#ive never felt the need to hold them on a ranking system

[flutterbysnowflakes]

Vipers And Dragons

PART IV

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter IV

Fury ignited in Y/n's chest the moment she stepped through the doorway. There, sprawled across her leather armchair, was Jimin, looking like a panther draped across its kill. He was all cool confidence, a smirk playing on his lips that did absolutely nothing to lessen the heat that flared in her core.

"Park," she spat, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud that echoed through the office. "What unwelcome surprise do I owe the pleasure of?"

He tilted his head back, a single black eyebrow quirking upwards. "Always so dramatic, Viper. Can't a man visit a business partner on a rainy night?"

His casualness grated on her. This was her territory, her sanctuary. His presence here was a blatant violation of the fragile truce they'd established.

"Business can wait," she said, her voice clipped. "Unless you've lost your men and need a Viper to clean up your mess again?"

He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine despite her best efforts. "Never underestimate the Dragons, Viper. But speaking of cleaning up messes..." He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a dangerous amusement. "We have unfinished business."

The air crackled with unspoken tension, a potent mix of hostility and something far more volatile. Y/n crossed her arms, refusing to be swayed by his sudden shift in tone.

"Business was the Falcones," she reminded him, her voice firm. "That's done."

"Not quite," he countered, his smile fading. "There's been a complication. A leak in one of our factions. Someone's feeding information to the Crows." The Crows, a rival mafia outfit notorious for their ruthlessness, were a constant threat.

Y/n's pulse quickened. A leak in their ranks could spell disaster for both the Vipers and the Dragons. "Who do you suspect?"

Jimin shrugged, his movements fluid and predatory. "That's for you to figure out, Viper. You have your informants, I have mine. Consider this a joint investigation."

Joint investigation. The very idea was laughable, considering their volatile history. But the threat of the Crows was a bigger concern. Y/n knew this wasn't just about business. This was a game of control, a power play disguised as a collaboration.

"Fine," she conceded, the word leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "But don't expect me to share my intel with you, Park. This is a Viper operation."

"As long as the Crows are dealt with," he responded, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that made her cheeks burn. "Besides," he added, a slow smile creeping back onto his face, "wouldn't working together be a bit more… interesting?"

The implication hung heavy in the air. The sexual tension that thrummed between them was no longer subtle. She hated the way his words affected her, the way his nearness sent a jolt through her system. He was the enemy, a viper in his own right, yet she couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her veins.

"Interesting, perhaps," she finally said, her voice husky despite her best efforts to appear unaffected. "But don't forget the game, Park. Alliances are temporary. Victories, however..." Her voice took on a dangerous edge. "Those are permanent."

He met her gaze, a spark of something dangerous flickering in his eyes. "We'll see about that, Viper," he said, rising to his full height. "This game has just begun."

As he walked towards the door, his cologne leaving a lingering scent in the air, Y/n felt like the ground beneath her had shifted. The lines between enemy and something more were blurring with every encounter. This joint investigation was a gamble, a dance on a knife's edge. But as she watched Jimin disappear into the rain-soaked night, Y/n knew one thing for sure: the heat of this game was only going to rise.

[lowpolyshadow]

sonic frontiers review go!!!! (non spoilers then MASSIVE spoilers under the cut) TLDR overall score: i would say it's an objective solid 8/10, but for me personally i just. i just had so much fun. 10/10

gameplay (combat/bosses) 9/10 gameplay (cybers) 6.5/10 gameplay (shmovement) 8/10

i fucking Love. Comboing Shit For Video Game Combat. it's Fun. it's Exciting. I Love That Shit. excellent combat system, i just wish either skills were harder to unlock or there were just more to unlock (preferably the latter i guess, but i can't think of anything i want ... added ... it's just that skill points are so easy to come by and i maxed out the tree pretty fast, so i have a bunch of excess points for nothing. tbf i have a LOT of excess EVERYTHING but)

bosses were fucking excellent. THE highlights imo. mob fights and stuff are fine, everything manages to be its own puzzle which i adore but mini bosses and bosses are the shit. the cyberlevels are fun genuinely but either too short to get into, have some jank physics in a couple of them, or . well some of them aren't that fun GJKLASDF but i didn't hate them! ive only played sa2 so i only recognized those ones + the Super iconic ones (chemical plant and all that) and that probably affects judgement since blind reacting to a sonic stage is the fun part imo

they're ridiculously easy (to... me at least) though. besides 1-2's s rank which i finally got, i was able to get all four missions done for every cyber level within one sitting ... on average like . 3 tries per i'd say (blind first, going back for any red rings or ring reqs, and then speed) with some taking a few more for speed but never more than like. 10-20 min tbh. in general i almost want a very hard mode bc the game overall was a very chill time, which is fine but sometimes i want my shit rocked

parries being Not timing based both threw me off (bc i would try to let go at the exact time when in fact you just hold it) and made them feel a little less ultra cool since sonic will just hold the parry for as long as ... you do, essentially (though there is heavy end lag on it so if you don't parry anything that's at least punished) it's a minor tryhard gripe where i wish there was like a PARRY parry i could toggle or smth

i like being sonic in a big environment it's just fun. the amount of fucked up shit you can do is great, he truly is a prime candidate for bigass open areas (and he controls pretty nicely, just got a couple weird moments and things like he goes into 'trick' mode too easily or some platforming things don't work the way they're supposed to bc you go too fast lol)

story…… 8.5/10 characters 10/10 i like them :)

character writing was absolutely the highlight for me this game, good banter, many quips, overall just characterization i adore and love to see i was well fed this game with my beloved little scrimblos it was a good time

the story itself went pretty hard ngl, a lot more lore than i expected and generally it was sonic taking its ridiculous plot seriously again which is all i wanted !!!! it's like somehow ridiculous but probably the most straightforward story they've done in a while, but that's not a bad thing. good story i pogged a few times

music 11/10 straight bangers they just don't fucking miss

i don't think i have much spoiler stuff i'd wanna say other than i genuinely think they hyped themselves too much at the start. like the gameplay was fun learning how it works, how movement goes, the setup and everything etc. etc. i always 100% the map first thing as soon as i can then go through for anything i need/pick stuff up along the way and then i do the boss fight

and that first boss fight. is so fucking sick. oh my god. i felt like. if i was 12 and played this and got to experience that boss fight the way i did now it would've literally changed the trajectory of my life. it DID change the trajectory of my life right now at 23 it was just pure hype, i was so giddy, i had the biggest fucking grin i was literally ready to physically pop off yelling LETS GOOOOO i just let the little tutorial popup chill while i head banged to the song like dear fucking god dude. INSANE intro they set the bar way too high off the bat

wyvern/second boss was perhaps my favorite mechanically just bc it really goes at you the most, you gotta react a lot and parry a lot to get through the fight which is Fun .... giganto/first boss tho. easily the most memorable experience in gaming that i've had in years. it was just so phenomenally done, probably biased bc it's the first one but shadow of the colossus-ing your way up to his fucking head to get the emerald, turn into super sonic, hear that FUCKING SONG

but this game has sonic be so fucking anime and that means knight/boss 3 easily has the best fucking finisher when sonic picks up a sword the size of the island itself and does the most anime cut in half shot he possibly can god it was so fucking SICK THIS GAME IS SICK SONIC IS THE COOLEST

the story weakness imo is the ending where they had so much build up but not a Ton of payoff, not even talking about sonic like essentially dying in soul/mind and then being revived with friendship (based tbh) but like the last boss fight and last islands just weren't nearly as cool as the others imo .... supreme was a lil similar to giganto and went by a lot faster than expected, probably bc by that point sonic's probably juiced up from upgrades (i went all in on attack no defense too lol sooo) ... i love a good bullet hell but i wanted a super cool super sonic fight, a hyper sonic fight, something that lets me go to town and see a fucking Spectacle

fun bullet hell but that wasn't what i'm HERE for (also finally hearing im here was sick but the fight itself really was so short/not quite as hard or anything innovative that it.... ehhh .... plus it was oddly quiet compared to the other songs i think, like, the sound mixing)

the ending feels a liiiittle rushed? The End is cool as a concept especially with how fucked up we know it is but i dunno, it really does feel like it blew the load a little too early and the ending just didn't live up to earlier hype/expectations

but it was still fun it just. it just didn't make me Feel the way giganto did, the way wyvern did, knight was where the hype started dropping off a liiiittle but knight was still a fucking SHOW where sonic beats a mf with his own shield AND THEN BLOCKS A SWORD BIGGER THAN MOUNTAINS WITH HIS OWN FUCKING HANDS THEN USES IT AGAINST HIM ITS' SIK IT'S SICK the final boss didn't have any truly THIS IS FUCKING AWESOME bits that really let you walk away going YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH and that's the part they need to fix

also no boss rush :/ brings the score down tbh i want to relive these things so fucking bad

the character relationships were soooo good though i just. gughugh. i don't want to get emo again but GOD they're such good friends they love and care about each other, i'm obsessed with amy saying how sonic loves the world and he has so much love to show because it's true sonic just LOVES living he loves life he loves getting to just Be and

tails is growing up on him faster than he expected .... uuu ....

and the fucking SONIC AND KNUCKLES BAYBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAHYEAH BUTTING HEADS SNARLING AT EACH OTHER LAUGHING AND GIVING FIST BUMPS AND TALKING SHIT THEY WERE SO GOOD YEAHYEAHYHEAY MOTEHRFUCKING KNUCKLES SWEEP BABY LETS GOOOO

god. so good. so fucking good. this is a game about love (sonic and his friends, eggman and sage of all people, the koco and their. selves? their history?, even chaos technically ....) and who am i if not a fucking Sucker for that shit. lets show that creep the real super power of team work

i did not actually hear vandalize in game yet because that is apparently only if you go into the final fight on easy or normal (i played to completion on hard exclusively) but the "true" ending song by nate goddamn wants to battle is INCREDIBLY sonic. one way dream is soooo reach for the stars/endless possibilities. it just makes me Feel happy. it's a little melancholic the way all of frontiers sort of is, but it's still hopeful and all about like. going forward. overcoming anything in your path and getting better for it and seeing the start of another new adventure and that sure is sonic the hedgehog

[khodorkovskaya]

15.06.23

so today was eventful and uneventful at the same time. i had my lesson with lucien this morning, then went to the library, then there was the q&a session with the differential geometry assistant, then i went back to the library. so i was quite productive but it didn't really feel like it.

i started watching the new video lauren southern put out about her divorce. and likeee. she's so cringe idk. youtube's been forcing tradwife content on me lately. like i think it started with me watching fashion shorts, then i started getting a bunch of those like "dark femininity" and "old money aesthetic" videos and now it's straight up "here's how i became a traditional wife". like im so glad im not an impressionable teenager anymore. because imagine. like back in the day we had our fair share of brain rotting anti-sjw content but nowadays it's even worse.

but anyway, back to lauren southern. she's so stupid! like idk if it's her neurodivergency or what. and i want to be empathetic. but like. the decisions she's made and still makes like. girlie.

it's funny bc i skimmed thru a video essay the other day about like tumblr culture and microlabels and mogai and stuff like that. and it wasn't a super interesting video bc being on tumblr you kind of absorb all of this information against your will lol. but the person was saying that basically a lot of neurodivergent teenage girls found those microlabels and various neo gender identities comforting. because a lot of neurodivergent people feel the need to like organise everything into categories and assort and classify everything in their brains. and when the video essay author said that i was like oof i feel that so deeply. like my whole personality basically consists of lists and categories i feel very strongly about for no logical reason. everything i like or identify as has to be sorted and classified into "favourites" and "hate lists" and different levels and ranks and stuff. so i do think that if i grew up even more chronically online than i did, i could've definitely been some kind of surrealgenderkin neopronouns weirdo.

and i was thinking about that and how growing up with this kind of weirdly wired brain was very strange. because i could never like something in moderation, no, i always had to be obsessed. and i couldn't just be obsessed, there were always some kind of rules i had to follow. i had to classify my obsession, study it deeply and behave accordingly. i had to absorb it all and become my obsession.

and the funny thing about this, is that no matter how consumed id always felt by my obsessions, it was all very surface level. it felt like trying on an intricately made beautifully detailed costume, but a costume nevertheless. like when i went thru that lizzy-grant-i-like-older-men phase, it was never about actually liking older men or actually being attracted to them or actually believing that it was natural to be attracted to older men, or whatever bullshit i would say. it was about being consumed by the aesthetic of it, all while convincing myself that if i pretend and fit in hard enough into the cage i had once again forced upon myself, this lifestyle will finally make me feel at peace. and every time i would try on a different belief system, a different political point of view, etc, i would just try to follow the rules of it and force the dogmas of it onto myself, without digging deeper or asking myself why and if i actually liked the thing i was obsessed with.

like it's weird and it's illogical. but ive always perceived the world as something that comes upon you from the outside that you have to get used to. meanwhile in reality, your opinions, desires and beliefs come from within you. and ive only figured that out literally this year.

so i remember being a teen, struggling with trying to find peace with transitioning into a young woman, trying on different belief systems, convincing myself that one of them has to hold the truth. but it was the wrong way to look to begin with! you have to find your values first and then see if maybe they align with anyone else's. not the other way around! it sounds stupid when i say that, but when all you've been doing your whole life is classifying things and sorting all of your interests into boxes, you don't ever realise that your thoughts can come from within! you feel like an empty vessel, needing to be filled with obsessions from the outside world. but those obsessions will never make you feel at peace because you have to produce your own thoughts and beliefs and have your own values. and that concept is still very hard for me to grasp.

so now this is where i see the problem with lauren southern. i feel like she too was in the same scenario with her failed marriage. as a young woman she became an anti-sjw activist and then pushed herself further and further to the right, all while having the most basic and surface-level understanding of it. she followed all the steps laid out for her by the ideology she chose: be catholic, marry a man, have a child, be a housewife. and shocker! those weren't her values to begin with. so she became unhappy.

and there's something so relatable about that. like i remember being obsessed with B, the same way id be obsessed with anything. i pushed this obsession on myself and then tried to convince myself that it was for me, all while staying superficial, never questioning my choices or values. why did i like B? why was B a good fit for me? why did i have to be with him? i don't know, i just had to. it was some supernatural force i guess, convincing me that i had to follow those rules in my brain in order to be happy. but why? i never asked myself the question.

and now lauren is like "i married the guy bc he promised me i could be a housewife and he was catholic and traditional". like you see how superficial that is? it's literally the same story as collecting microlabels like pokemon bc your neurodivergent brain finds it satisfying. like catholic man? check. traditional catholic man? check. housewife status with traditional catholic man? check. baby with traditional catholic man? check. but now what's next? what's the essence of it all? why did you convince yourself that this was good for you? do you even know why you believe what you claim to believe? it's all for aesthetics and obsessive compartmentalisation.

anyway, i didn't watch the whole video because it's like an hour+ long and i have shit to do. but i did watch a bit of lana lokteff's reaction to it. and god she's such a vile woman. like as soon as i saw the thumbnail of her video in the recommended bar i had a vomit reflex lol. but in her video she was basically scolding lauren for making bad choices and not thinking things through, all while saying how marriage is so much deeper than what meets the eye and marriage is great basically. and yeah, you can't argue with that. marriage isn't just some life trophy to collect, it's a whole thing. but does the altright ever explain that to women? are those tradwives making tiktoks showing what marriage actually is? all rightwing women hear is "get married, have kids, it's great" and that's it. and if your understanding of the world is flawed because of the weird mechanics of your brain, you're gonna understand just that. and marry the first catholic man you meet like lauren southern. and be unhappy because you were never taught to question why.

[blazinginbus1]

#1: (Finding out about Larry anon again. Although I don't know if my other messages actually sent so if you didn't get it just tell me). I'm still bummed out about Larry. I genuinely thought Larry was a made-up ship that fans were obsessively delusional over and I made the mistake of watching their videos and I'm so sad, as terrible as it sounds, to see how close they were. There's a difference between regular bromances, like Ziam, or Lirry, (I wouldn't consider Zouis a bromance because they

never really play up their relationship. Actually they don’t show much of it to the public eye) and Larry. In 2011 to early 2013, they seemed REALLY close. Always touching, always staring, always having sexual innuendos. Sure, maybe that seems like nothing because the other guys do that, but there’s a difference. You can tell when the other guys do it (including Louis and Harry to other people, not each other) that they have the intention of playing around and not meaning anything. Like when Harry went over to Zayn with his candy thong and Zayn bit in right next to his crotch? A joke. 100% funny joke that they honestly would not even think about later or just think anything of it. The guys groping each other, Liam tackling Zayn on stage, the guys saying they’d date each other, kissing each other on cheeks? Hot, but a joke. Nothing serious, nothing actually holding any real meaning behind it other than the fact that it’s funny for guys to be gay with each other for some strange reason. And I just, maybe because I just love Zayn/Louis so much, but I never really took Larry seriously until watching all these non-edited moments of them and literally the majority of them were just private moments. They literally never had any platonic moments. Every moment would be used as a sexual innuendo opportunity, or little tiny winks or touches behind the table or small whispers of sexual flirtation. I just don’t get it? There’s so much I can’t even understand. There’s so many things that can’t be marked as a coincidence. And trust me, I know Larries can be extreme and sometimes make everything about Larry (though that’s usually after 2013 to now). But in 2012, I just can’t wrap my head around it. I don’t like it. Why were they so close? Why did they genuinely flirt, and I actually mean it, actual flirtation (most times actually private and not drawn attention to). Am I missing something? They were so close and suddenly they just stopped? I don’t get it? Either the fans made them uncomfortable with their whole pushing and obsessiveness which explains why they didn’t really interact at all for the next three years (unless they did act like regular and people are over-exaggerating) and they were still close off-camera or they just grew up and honestly just weren’t that close anymore? I have to ask, since I’m assuming you’ve been in the fandom for a while. Did Larry hang out a lot off work together like Zouis in later years? Or was it just in interviews and concerts that they seemed close and they actually weren’t as close as people make them out to be? Which would mean they all were fairly equal in closeness and Larry were just playing in interviews and when there were no cameras around, they weren’t actually that close? have to admit though, when Zayn and Louis were asked if they were in a relationship together, they put their arms around each other’s shoulders and had no problems saying that they were not together. No hesitations, no struggles, nothing. When Louis is questioned, he always says “fans /genuinely/ believe we’re in a relationship, and he always seems walk around the question and struggles? I don’t like the idea of them being together. don’t know. It just bums me out. But were they together? Ever? Or was it just for fun and they really have no interest in each other? I just feel strange because there honestly seemed to be something there in the beginning. But I like Zouis :/ 

I’m so sorry I haven’t responded back to you sooner, babes. However, I did receive your other messages. I’ve just been a little off my game lately, so do forgive me. I’m sorry you’ve been hit with some conflicting thoughts regarding the dynamics of Zayn, Louis, and Harry’s relationships. I really cant tell you what to think one way or another, gorgeous. It’s ultimately your call how you assess it. Just bear in mind there’s a lot more to a friendship than the stuff we see at the surface, so be conscious of that. We only see a fraction of them and how they interact, so I don’t think we could get a really fair assessment of their relationships in their entirety with the little we see or know.

Admittedly, I don’t often discuss Louis and Harry’s relationship too often on here, simply because it attracts a certain kind of attention I’m not necessarily interested in bringing on to my blog. Just to clarify, I’m not into tinhatting, simply put. Any discussions I make about the boys, I speak in metaphoricals and from a place of figuratives rather than solid fact. And I’m sure you do too. I value Louis and Harry’s friendship, as anyone would, but I think the innocence and harmlessness in it has far surpassed its boundaries. They used to be great in public, and didn’t often think too much of policing themselves, so you did see cheeky moments where they joked around and had their fun, not thinking it would be microanalyzed the way it had. They literally were roommates at one point. So of course there was an air of comfort there; there’s no denying that.

However, *I* myself have never really conformed with the idea that Louis and Harry’s interaction were somehow deeper than any of the others. I think it should be known that videos like the ones you’ve mentioned often rely on a little bit of a manipulation tactic in telling you to focus so intently on that *one* particular subject matter or that *one* particular moment, and disregard anything else other ships do similarly that would ‘disprove‘ it, so to speak. Its like putting on horse blinders, and telling you to focus on what they want you to see right ahead; don’t bother looking off the right where so-and-so are doing something as cheeky. They’ve all made comments, they’ve all had their moments of cheekiness with one another, and they’ve all built personal relationships outside of what would be considered work obligations, but there’s an odd double-standard that I myself don’t quite understand. When so-and-so do something, its almost instantly written off as ‘a joke’ or ‘a bromatic moment’, but Louis and Harry doing it is automatically branded as something more? Like I said, darling, I don’t get it. And I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you, but that’s just me.

Obviously I cant see the ‘Larry” that others may see, but then again, plenty of people cant see, or choose not to, see the Zouis I see either. Louis and Harry had far less to worry about being interactive and friendly in their younger days because back then, it was still being treated more as a joke, or a figurative thing, a nice concept. But somewhere along the way, the lines got blurred and things got far less innocent and playful, prominently in how the fans reacted to it. Things had to change because at that point, Larry’s interactions didn't just have an impact on them. In fans heralding Larry moments, their real partners—of whom they've publicly declared they were dating—often got harassed. Family, friends, partners, staff. I’d venture to say Louis and Harry didn't think this would be the adverse reaction to them joking with one another.

This is all over the place and I left it on a really open, ambiguous note with no right answer to tell you, because I don't think there is a solid answer here. Feel how you want to about the ships you want. I don't see Larry in a profoundly deeper way that some may want me to, but that's just my outlook and I cant explain why. Louis’ relationship with Zayn is different than Louis’ relationship with Harry, which is different than Harry’s relationship with Niall, and so on. All are valued in such unique ways, and all boys have personal connections and a certain love for one another. That’s just how they are. They were uninhibited, they were shamelessly endeared by one another, and as a dear friend of mine on here says (shoutout @alligatornyc), they're practically made in a lab. Because their big ot5 love fest is so unexplainable, but works so incredibly well. I'm sorry this answer is shit, babes, but I appreciate you sharing your thoughts. Continue loving Zouis. Continue appreciating Larry. Hell, maybe even check out some Narry, if that tickles your fancy. But don't feel like you need to place one ship over another; they're all different, but equally as meaningful.

[burnedbyshoto]

shinsou and the very terrible, horrible, no good, very bad shift

— You, a new sidekick, screw up a case for a Pro Hero Shinsou, and he demands compensation.

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pairing: older!shinsou hitoshi x younger fem!reader

warnings: age gap (shinsou 25, reader 18), nsfw, 18+, pwp, DEGRADATION, power imbalance, spanking, marking, cursing, shinsou is a major asshole, mindbreak, sorta subspace, happy ending for shinsou, depending on person unhappy ending for reader, public sex, dubcon because of power imbalance

word count: 3,892

a/n: happy halloween. this is mean degradation imo like I thought ive done degradation but this made all those look like praise kink. be careful and click out if its too much

kinktober day 20 main kink: degradation | kinktober masterlist

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How you ever forgot that as a high school hero-in-training student, you were a big fish in a tiny pond was beyond you. Well, to be quite honest, you never thought yourself to be a big fish, to begin with.

You were eighteen, a few months from turning nineteen and had just graduated from the hero course over at UA. That in itself was a huge accomplishment, one that you should take with bubbling pride and joy, but to be quite honest, having such a big name attached to you only made you nervous. To tell the truth, you often wondered just why a hero within the top 50 even scouted you to work as an intern with them and then offer you a position as a sidekick as soon as you entered your third year. Still, it seemed to be a common predicament with BMI Hero: FatGum.

Today was your first day on the job, no longer a student part of a hero work-study, but as a physical, government paid hero — a fickle sidekick! You shuddered as you slipped on the shoes to your outfit, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you made your way out of the locker room, ready to report to your first assignment.

FatGum agency was quite a lovely place, loud and warm, being the first two adjectives you thought of when you first joined their ranks. It did wonders for your self-esteem, and seeing newly turned Pro Hero Suneater, who apparently was a million times more of a nervous mess than you were, made you feel oddly in good hands.

But still, nothing could keep you from the shock that ran through your body when FatGum proudly thrust forward a patrol route for you to follow.

“Alright, pipsqueak,” FatGum jovially spoke, his eyes closed while he smiled. “This is your route for the day! It should take about an hour to get through unless anything happens! You’ll go on the route every three hours, and in between those patrols, it’s the same paper system as before! Good luck out there, y/h/n, you got this!”

“Oh my god, no, I do not?!” you spluttered, hands shaking wildly as you went through the folder Fat had so quickly presented. “What if I die?!”

“You’ll be fine. Remember how Deku and Ground Zero complimented you the other day?”

“Yeah!” you exclaim, your face burning with your shame as you remembered that confrontation. “But that only happened because Deku is a living saint, and I spilled my noodles all over him and Ground Zero! Ground Zero was also, by the way, forced to compliment me by Deku! And all he said was that my combat skills were absolutely shitty but not as shitty as he thought they would be!”

“Ah yes, I remember Red Riot discussing how his friend was less than inept at expressing his gratitude,” FatGum hummed in memory, although that dumb, proud smile never left his face. “If I remember correctly, that means he has great respect for you!”

You made a dying noise at the back of your throat.

“But Deku doesn’t lie! He speaks honestly, so all his compliments were definitely true. Now, y/h/n, let's get through this day together, ne?”

You didn’t agree, but that wouldn’t stop him from throwing you out to the streets, your heart hammering in your throat as you walked through the path he used to take you on every day. Your smile was shaky and wobbly as the people you recognized waved and cheered you on. They were all excited to see you on your own. 

However, they did point out that you were here an entire hour earlier than usual, but hey! That’s what happened when you went from being a student to trying to function as an adult!

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” you chanted as you passed by the spookiest alleyway on your patrol.

The hour-long patrol was almost done if your watch wasn’t lying to you: a full patrol and not a single instance of needing to help. Well, you had assisted some people in carrying groceries and holding a child as a mother shopped for dinner that night, but there were no altercations, nothing out of the ordinary. 

You marched through the alleyway, your fists in a shaky clenched grip as cold, nervous sweat dripped down your neck.

You were okay, you are okay, you will be okay.

“Nothing to be afraid of! Just a normal, average, no villains insight day!” you spoke to yourself, your body shaking as you pass an opening in the alleyway, and you turn your head to look and freeze.

“Alright, and I don’t want fucking nobody hearing goddamn shit about this drug, got it?!” a man with a quirk that made him look like a blowfish snapped.

Six men stood in the alleyway, all with tall, massive, threatening vibes. You didn’t make a single noise; you knew that for a fact, but their gazes still fell on you the moment the man stopped speaking. A horrible, stupid movie cliche that happened too often in hero life.

Your life probably flashed before your eyes at that single moment, your body and mind instinctively moving to call the heroes before realizing that you were the hero now. What do you do?! What could you do?! Drugs?! Did they have drugs?!

Panicking greatly, you watched their mouths move, but you couldn’t hear them as you took in their faces in a blur. Before you knew it, your mind shut down, and your body took over. You weren’t sure what it was. If you were way stronger than the entire group or if you just had an untapped potential that burst open right now, because you blinked and suddenly there were all thrown onto the floor, busted and bloody and tied up.

You… you did it?!

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, your hands rising to your mouth as you looked at each and every one of their smushed, dirty faces. “I WON?! I won, oh my god, I won — wait?!”

You stepped over to the purple-haired man on the floor, his mouth stuffed with a cloth fabric you probably shoved in there at some point.

“M-Mindjack-sensei?!” you cried, your excitement of betting this drug handoff simmering off immediately. “W-What are you doing? Were you gonna stop this drug handoff? I — oh my god, let me get this off!” You scrambled to get the restraints off of Shinsou, unaware of the way the other captured men glared at Shinsou, utterly shocked and betrayed as you cleared him.

“Thank you for the capture, y/h/n!” a police officer congratulated you as you freed Shinsou, and you smiled, nodding your head. “Is it just four of them?”

You froze.

You had counted six men at first, and with Shinsou recovered, that made five men.

“I didn’t… I lost one of them?” you deflated, all sense of confidence draining you as Shinsou remained on the floor.

“Ah,” the police officer grimaced, his head shaking before he paused and looked up at you with a halfhearted smile. “Well, you still did good work! We’ll see what drug they were talking about, and if it’s nothing too crazy, they’ll be good to go!”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile weakly, feeling ready to cry as you hold onto your wrist.

“But, uh, who’s the guy on the ground?” he nodded towards Shinsou, who was looking entirely pissed off and ready to bite like some cornered, raging animal.

“Oh, Mindjack!” you respond, hands motioning toward one of the other older Pro Heroes you looked up to. 

The police officer stared at Shinsou, an unconvinced look on his face.

“I thought he was… ah, well, old? And didn’t he have black hair?” he muttered before shrugging. You didn’t manage to stutter out your knowledge of the older man with black hair being Eraserhead because he was long gone already, fingers pressed to his radio, chatting with his HQ.

Breathing out a nervous sigh, you turned to Shinsou with a shy and fully apologetic smile. “I am so sorry for hurting you! Are you okay?” you asked, your eyes scanning the older heroes' stance, unable to read anything but annoyance radiating from his body. 

“No, I’m not okay, actually,” Shinsou spat, his face finally looking up from the floor, and you felt your throat run thick at the rage and anger simmering from his face. 

“W-Wha—” you stammer, taking a step back, overwhelmed.

“You just fucking ruined six months of undercover work,” he seethed, his feet moving to stalk towards you. You found yourself stumbling backward, looking everywhere but at him. You can feel your balance giving; the cold filth of the alleyway wall your saving grace as his fingers grabbed your jaw, forcing you to face him. His purple eyes black in his fury. “I don’t think you realized just how badly you fucked up?! You stupid fucking child!”

A wash of ice-cold realization flooded through you, the horror of what you knew you just did completely dawning on you as tears sprung in your eyes. You felt nauseous, utterly sick to your stomach because this seasoned Pro Hero definitely had shit to do, and you practically shat all over it.

“I am so sorry,” you whimper, pain shooting through you just slightly at the grip he has on your chin. “I am so so sorry, i-is there anything that I c-can do?! How can I-I fix it?!”

“You think I need help from some crybaby?” Shinsou snapped, thoroughly unimpressed by you, his eyes narrowing further. You didn’t even realize you were crying already. 

“I-I’m useful, I promise!” you cry a bit more, your body struggling as the older hero trapped you against the wall, his face glowering down at you with the intensity of a million suns. “I-I’m a sidekick over a-at Fatgum’s agency, but, oh fuck, I’m so sorry! I’ll do anything you ask of me!”

There’s a looming silence, a heavy tension as his eyes drop from your eyes to your parted wet lips. He’s much taller than you, and you can feel every heavy breath expelling on your face. 

“You think a pathetic, worthless little sidekick is able to do anything for me?” Shinsou snapped, his eyes narrowing as he loomed even closer. “A pathetic fucking bitch like you? I don’t think you can give me even a simple fucking action that would prove your worth.”

The words are hot embers on your ears, making your jaw drop, and your body trembles at the simple degradation. You feel your tears hot on your cheeks, your parted lips invaded by his dirt-covered fingers as he pressed onto your tongue. It had to be the shock of it, the reality of the hot, hard dick pressing into your stomach and the way he was staring at you like some piece of fucking meat, but you gagged around his fingers.

“Why am I not fucking surprised, you goddamn fucking whore,” he sneered, his fingers shoving faster into your mouth, pressing dangerously hard against your tongue, trying to get you to gag and choke around his fingers. “You fucking sure you’re a fucking sidekick? Look at you, pathetic, stupid, crying like a baby in an alleyway? You’re a hero, aren’t you? Fucking save yourself from this, you fucking bitch.”

You violently shake, your hands finding themselves tethered to his shirt, your head shaking nonetheless.

“Oh, you don’t want to save yourself?” He coos, his expression turning the slightest bit amused, maybe a bit possessive, but it lasts a second. You blink, and anger has replaced the amusement, red streaking in his vision. “Why the fuck not?”

“B-Because,” you strangle, your tongue flat against your mouth, your throat instinctively opening and closing against his fingers. “I said I’ll do anything y-you wanted!”

There’s another pause, and you wait pressed against the wall, your chest heaving with your anxiety and weird turned-on state. Shinsou was a Pro Hero, someone who was eight years older than you, someone you had respected since you were in grade school. Yet, here you were, looking nothing more than a slab of meat to him, a hole for him to abuse in his anger because you had fucked up.

“Oh, you stupid fucking slut,” he laughed, his teethed bared into a feral smirk. “You want this, huh. You want to please me any way I see fucking fit, fucking perfect. Turn around.”

There’s no room to argue or think; he turns you around without a second's notice. His hand shoving your chest into the wall, and you cry at the discomfort. He grabs your ass, pushing you uncomfortably into an arched position as he tears your pants down from your legs.

 “You’re a worthless fucking cumdump. Not even noon yet, and I’m going use your fucking body however I see fit.” Shinsou promises, fingers raking down your supple ass. Nails tearing into your skin, fingers slapping your covered cunt. “You worthless fucking slut, dirty fucking whore, already goddamn wet.”

“I’m n-not wet!” you cry, hips spasming against his rough hold, and slaps to your aching cunt. You know it’s a lie, you know that clear as day, but it doesn’t keep you from lying. Doesn’t stop you from shivering when he pinches at the cloth of your panties and removes them from your sopping wet folds.

“You think I don’t know if you’re wet or not?” Shinsou growled in warning, his fingers pinching together your soaked folds. An action that makes you cry loudly, the sharp pain too much for you. “You think I’m some fucking idiot?”

“N-No!” you cry, his fingers shifting to where your throbbing entrance is and his other hand going to your mouth, once again claiming your lips as his nails purposefully impose pain on your heated cunt. 

“You must think that since you’re lying to me,” he snaps, his mouth pressed to your ear, his hot breaths making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You want to speak up, say something, but his fingers are fucking your mouth, keeping you from speaking back. “But again, you aren’t fucking worth anything, are you? You’re not fucking anything.”

Those words whip against your skin, making you twist in his arms, hot tears pushing past your eyes again as you cry.

“Oh, you don’t like that?” Shinsou comments, his fingers pinching and pulling your tongue, and his hips begin to grind his hot, burning flesh into your ass. “Well, you better stop fucking crying because I’m not gonna stop until I’m fucking done — until I’m fucking relieved. This isn’t about you; this is for me. You aren’t shit, fucking worthless piece of shit whore.”

You sob into the brick wall, the tears unable to be stopped, unable to clear as his fingers that were scraping at your folds begin to fuck you at the same time as he fingers your mouth faster. The sensation of being outside, finger fucked in an alleyway by a Pro Hero you admired and respected beyond comparison, made you tremble with want and need. His cruel, completely degrading words a warm fire in your belly and against your skin. 

The sounds of the wet caverns he was currently fucking begin to echo in the wall, his throbbing cock grinding against your ass. It’s a sensation that makes you cry with need, your ass shifting back to feel him more, to get more from the contact he’s giving you.

“Of course some screwup like you likes this shit,” Shinsou grunted, his fingers fishing and rubbing against the spongy warmth of your walls, fingers scraping ever so gently against the velvetiness. You spasm against his touch, your whiney, pleasure-filled noises filling up the alleyway almost as loudly as the choking and the squelching of your pussy.

His hands suddenly leave your mouth, and you’re heaving at the deserted feeling in your mouth. You whip your head around, trying to see just why he had abandoned your mouth, desperate to please him more in any way he saw fit. But instead, you’re met with the sicky coldness of your saliva spread across your face. Almost instantly drying against your face as your still tear-soaked eyes looked into his dark ones.

“Don’t look so fucking sad, stupid cockslut,” Shinsou snapped, his hand that had been fucking your cunt abandoning your warmth and meeting your face. You whined, unable to come up with words as he spreads your slick against your face. A shiver wrecks your spine, a pathetic whimper at the smell, and the feel of the warm thickness of your slick. “You wanted this, fucking asked me to wreck your worthless holes.”

“I-I’m not sad,” you try to defend yourself, your body shaking as you feel the heated warmth of his cock suddenly between the curves of your ass. It presses heavily onto you, skin twitching and throbbing with its emitting warmth and simmering heat. 

Shinsou pauses, his eyes deadly and threatening as he glares at you. Unamusement heavy in his gaze, his mouth set in a small, teeth-baring snarl. “Then why the fuck are you crying? You think you deserve to be crying right now? No. You fucking worthless slut, you don’t. You ruined my damn shift, my damn case, I should be the one fucking crying. Your pathetic ass is worthless and tried to make my life the same, and that won’t fucking fly.”

The words tighten at your throat, your body trembling as tears continue to flow. His words are white-hot against your skin, and although it hurts to hear it, your cunt clenches in response, slicking even more.

His hand comes down suddenly onto your ass. The slap sharp and stinging, echoing loudly against the alleyway walls as you scream in pain. It throbs, your back contorting as you try to stretch the skin that makes you ache. But Shinsou spanks your ass again, without warning, his hand unmerciful against your soft, swelling flesh. You yelp again.

He spanks again, and again, and again. Each echoing action sending your voice screaming, counting them without even being told, succumbed to him and his every action and thought without needing to be. He spanks you until your ass feels raw and bloody, the bruises undoubtedly forming as he pinches the folds of your dripping cunt.

“Stick your ass out more,” he growls, tugging at the fold, making you stumble. The cock pressing onto the split of your ass feels heavy, and you twitch at the seeping pre-cum dripping onto your muscled rim. The bricks scratch at your face, and you find your ass wiggling out further from the wall, your back arched more as the cold wall sings through the clothes on your breast. “I’m not gonna put more fucking effort into fucking a goddamn worthless bitch than I should.”

And with that, your ass perfectly exposed for him to use and fuck. His throbbing cock presses through your pussy and slams all the way into you.

There were many pains you were used to as an aspiring hero. You were used to being punched, kicked, stabbed, thrown about, etc. Each of those pains were something you had been taught to make feel better, each pain demonstrated to you so that it wouldn’t be the thing that took you out. But there was no training for the way that his thick cock pressed through your impossibly tight entrance. There was no pain that could relate to the white fire of your rapidly fluttering entrance that was trying too hard to keep up with his slamming thick cock.

“IT HURTS!” you shriek, body twisting, tears flooding your cheeks as you feel weak in the legs. Body moments from falling. “It hurts so much! Please! It hurts!”

“Oh? It hurts? It's supposed to fucking hurt you fucking idiot, fucking whore,” Shinsou snapped in return, his hips firing into even faster than before. His massive body practically caving onto you as his cock rockets into you. Unforgiving, relentless, and with the drive to make him cum. Your vision swirls and spins as the pain reaches its peak, your mouth opening, your voice no longer working. But oh, how the saliva dripped from your mouth as his hands abandoned your waist to grab onto your stretched cheeks. He held onto your cheeks like some gag, slamming your head into his chest so your dazed eyes could stare up at him as his menacing gaze bore down on you. “You think this was supposed to make you feel good? I don’t give a shit if you cum. This is for me. I’m not fucking stopping until I’m done using you, so shut the fuck up.”

Your whimper is soft, no longer able to keep up with the pleasure your body begins to reach as the pain becomes one of pure bliss. Your eyes crossing as every thrust of his welcomed cock drives you further and further up the wall. The squelching of your meeting sexes almost sounds like a nursery rhyme. A pleasant noise that makes you giggle deliriously as Shinsou continues to degrade you continues to spout how insignificant you are.

“Your only purpose in your shit life is to be my fucking cumdump, fucking bitch, do you understand me?” Shinsou spat, his thrusting becoming barbaric, stammering in his power and speed. You laugh, your head nodding as you stare up at him with loving eyes, the drool and tears on your face trailing down your throat, soaking your uniform. “Tell me what your purpose is?”

“To be your cumdump!” you laugh, elation bubbling in your chest, fluttering deep around your cunt until you felt Shinsou’s teeth sink into your throat.

The feeling of hot, sticky cum expelling into your cunt feels like blistering euphoria, his heavy, rough breathing on your skin, making you moan softly. Your own orgasm hits, much softer, much more controlled than his as your walls clamp down like a vice around him. Your orgasm is warm, sounding deep within you that you almost didn’t realize you were dropped to the floor.

A soft, pitiful moan sounds from your lip, your eyes focused on Shinsou, who’s shoving his limp cock back into his pants, but his eyes are on the skyline.

“I-I’m sorry for messing up your… your case,” you rasp on the floor. 

Shinsou shifts on his feet, his gaze lingering longer onto the skyline before finally setting onto you. The anger seems to have disappeared, a look of slight boredom but the excitement in his eyes as he leans down over you. You feel breathless when his mouth presses against yours in a short, chaste kiss.

“I think you just helped me keep my cover, slut; maybe you do have some worth,” he laughed against your mouth.

He leaves you there, your body going limp and blackness taking over the moment he disappears.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

I Don’t Think You’re An Angel (Anymore)

A Lewis Nixon x OFC One Shot

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Thank you to @basilone​ @softspeirs​ and @mercurygray​ for all your help on this! I am much happier with how it turned out thanks to y’all’s suggestions :)

Warning(s): Some suggestive language, but that’s about it

***

Her father once told her that nursing would make her feel fulfilled. It would get her back on her feet after such tragedy struck. Nothing healed like giving back and healing others, he said. Especially after downing whiskey and kissing strangers didn’t work, she thought. 

It did the trick, to be sure. Nursing school was rigorous, but it taught her a lot about herself. She met some of her greatest friends there, and new connections soothed the ache from the burn of the ones she lost. With a new support system, she wearily clawed her way out of the ashes of her grief, and stood up again. And when the war came, she and thousands like her were able to charge into the fray. 

But the last thing Bonnie wanted now was to be on her feet - in a much more literal sense. The Austrian sun shone outside, calling to her, coaxing her to come out and warm her face and rest her sore feet. But she didn’t have a day off for another two days. And after almost eight hours at the hospital, there were still more patients to check on before she could clock out. She felt that familiar throb in her heels as she headed into the next ward. 

Shit.

There he stood. The man she once knew as Lewis Nixon, but for many years, only referred to as “The Worst Mistake I Ever Made.”

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit.

He was coming closer, accompanied by a red-headed major she didn’t recognize. To her dismay, they headed for Sergeant Grant’s bed, the very patient she was supposed to check on. He was still recovering from his surgery until he was well enough to be moved to England. 

She decided to grit her teeth and bear it. Years had passed. Why should he bother her now? He probably wouldn’t even recognize her. She knew herself to be an unremarkable part of his life. How else could he have done what he did?

She strode over to the bed and ignored the men standing beside it. She lifted Grant’s chart and scanned it, but she couldn’t absorb anything. She could feel Lewis’s eyes on her. Moments that might have been hours passed as he stared, and she pretended she didn’t notice.

“Bonnie?”

Shit.

Biting back a groan, she looked at him, and met his eyes. Those eyes that once made her legs weak and her heart soft. But now only activated her punching reflex. She glanced at his collar to get his rank.

“Captain,” she said coolly. 

She returned her eyes to the clipboard.

“Okay, I know it doesn’t take that long to read a chart,” he said. 

She snapped it shut and glared at him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were a medical professional. Would you like a white coat and stethoscope? Just clock in since you seem to know so much!”

“Still mad, I see,” he said with a grimace.

“Oh, get over yourself,” she shot back. 

“So, you two know each other?” the red-head observed, cutting the tension. 

“It was a long time ago,” she said. “We went to school together.”

“We used to date,” Lewis added. 

“Could not have been more obvious I preferred to keep that private, but I guess we’re in this room now,” she said. 

“Dick, this is Bonnie Butler,” Nix said. “Bonnie, this is Major Dick Winters.”

“How do you do?” she said politely. 

“Nice to meet you,” Dick replied. “Bonnie Butler...like the little girl from Gone With the Wind?”

“If fairness, I had the name first,” she pointed out. “And I haven’t broken my neck falling off a horse, but I avoid them just in case.”

They both chuckled, and she refrained from smirking with satisfaction. Her need to impress him disturbed her. 

“I gotta admit I’m surprised to see you here,” Lewis said. 

“We haven’t spoken in years, Lewis, anything I’m doing should come as a surprise to you,” she returned.

Now that the initial contact was made, she had an easier time going about her job checking on Grant. It was pretty basic, just taking vitals and ensuring he was still stable. Which he was.

“Well, I’ll let you visit now,” she said.

She started to go.

“Kathy’s leaving me,” he blurted out.

She turned to face him, expression level. “Is that supposed to mean something to me, Lewis?”

It should have felt like victory. Like justice. But it only made her sad. None of it meant anything now. Her loving him, him loving Kathy, and Bonnie hating them both for it. The agony she faced because he chose her friend was only worth a few years of marriage. 

Did everything have to fall apart? Was nothing truly built to last? The war showed her that even thousand-year-old buildings would crumble under a bomb. Just as she crumbled when Lewis dropped the truth about him and Kathy. But now they were in ruins as well, so what was the point in any of it?

He shifted his weight between his feet, as he always did when he was anxious. He looked at the ground and then back at her, his eyes revealing how deeply he was stung. 

“Guess not,” he said. “I’ll see you around, Bonnie.”

She didn’t answer for so long he feared she would not at all. But she was still looking at him.

“I should hope not, Lewis,” she finally said. 

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the wing. Dick looked at Bonnie and then at his friend. He had never seen Lewis look so guilty. There was a deep remorse there, which indicated a great impact on his life, but Dick could not recall Lewis ever mentioning this woman. 

“What did you do to her?” Dick asked. 

Lewis cleared his throat before he answered. “Did I ever tell you how I met Kathy?”

Dick shook his head. 

“Well, Bonnie and I were dating,” Lewis began. “Kathy was her best friend. And, well...we fell in love. Behind Bonnie’s back. We had an affair for six months before we came clean.”

Dick blinked, taken aback. He knew Lewis was not the most ethical person in the world, but he did not expect his friend to be capable of something like that. He didn’t blame Bonnie at all for the way she spoke to Lewis. That kind of betrayal went deep because it was not just her boyfriend, but the one person she was supposed to be able to rely on when her boyfriend messed up. And then, to add insult to injury, they ended up married. Now, Dick was impressed with how Bonnie handled the news of the divorce. She had every right to laugh in his face. And she didn’t.

“Did you apologize?” Dick asked. 

“Oh, only about a thousand times,” Lewis replied. “And even after some time went by, Kathy and I tried to reach out again, but she wanted nothing to do with us. And we didn’t blame her, of course, but it still hurt.”

A beat passed. Lewis watched the door where Bonnie disappeared and wondered now if his split from Kathy was his punishment for what he did to her. That he and Kathy - because they started as a transgression - were perhaps doomed to fail. 

“C’mon, Nix,” Dick said. “Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Or dink,” Lewis returned. 

They left the hospital, but he found himself wishing he could find her again. Explain some more. But he knew better.

The following morning, Bonnie went to change an IV for a young corporal who had drunkenly jumped from a fourth story window and broken his leg. Many of the injuries she treated these days were caused by the jubilance of VE-Day, and she couldn’t say she blamed them, but she did wish they would be more careful. 

“Thanks, Nurse Butler,” the corporal said. 

“I’m just doing my job,” she replied gently. “This’ll only take a moment.”

She reached for the bag, when she suddenly heard a dreaded voice from behind her. 

“Careful with those, they can get messy,” Lewis said. 

She whipped around. 

“I’m sorry, don’t I first open my eyes and realize it’s a new day?” she asked sarcastically.

“I didn’t -”

“What is this magic bag in front of me?!” she exclaimed, holding the IV bag out with taunting wonder. 

“Look -”

“I’ve done this before,” she said sharply, becoming serious again and facing the patient, who was snickering.

“I know that,” he said.

“Then stop telling me what to do,” she retorted.

“I was joking,” he said calmly. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be,” she shot back, with a bitterness that told him she meant more than just the joke.

He did not speak again until after the IV was replaced. When she finished, she ignored Lewis and began walking away. 

“Bonnie, wait, I think we should talk about things,” he said, trailing behind her. 

“I disagree,” she replied. “Besides, I’m working.”

“When is your shift over?” 

“You know I’m not going to tell you that.”

“Please -”

She halted and whirled around. He skidded to a stop a few feet away. 

“What is it you’re so desperate to tell me?” she demanded. “That you’re sorry? Because I’ve heard that before, Lewis, and I don’t care.”

“You really can’t forgive me?” he asked. “After all this time?”

She wondered that herself often enough. But there was too much. Not only the betrayal, but the effects of it. How could she forgive him for the worthless way she felt? How could she forgive him for her now ingrained lack of trust? How could she forgive him for the nights she spent crying on the kitchen floor, convinced that this was what love felt like? 

His eyes clung to her gaze, and she endured a long moment of weakness where she felt totally incapable of turning away from him. But she knew she could now because she had done it before. 

“No,” she said, surprised by the croak in her voice and the lump in her throat. 

She didn’t wait for him to answer. She walked away, and thankfully, he didn’t follow. 

Another day passed. Lewis did not return to the hospital, and Bonnie was relieved. She worked the rest of her shift in peace. The only disturbance was a violent thunderstorm, which rumbled in the sky and pelted rain down against the roof all day.

When her shift concluded, it was still raining. Unwilling to get drenched, she went to the doctor’s lounge, which nurses frequented as well, for a drink. She had the next day off, so she figured she could afford to get a little tipsy. Her true goal was to get Lewis Nixon off her mind, but as she walked in, she met a dismal sight. There he sat at the bar, nursing a whiskey, looking sadly at a letter. 

She looked at the heavens to address God directly.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

She waited a moment, but received no reply. So with a sigh, she went over to the bar and took the stool beside Lewis. 

“You know, if you’re not medical personnel, you’re not really supposed to be in here,” she said.

He looked at her. “Are you speaking to me now?”

“I never said we can’t speak in general,” she said. “Just not about our past.”

“I see,” he returned. “Well, to address your earlier statement, this is the only place they have Vat 69 in all of Europe apparently.”

“You’re still drinking that nasty stuff?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.

“You’re not?”

She shook her head. “No, I’ve moved on.”

With that, she ordered a gin and tonic. They waited in silence as the bartender prepared it. The soft clink of ice and pop of the gin bottle might as well have been explosions. There were no other patrons to fill up the space. 

“So, are we gonna catch up?” he wondered. “Like old friends?”

“I don’t think we were ever really friends,” she replied. “If we were, you wouldn’t have done what you did.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he warned jokingly. “That is forbidden territory.”

“Do you wanna talk or do you wanna fuck around?” she retorted. 

“If we’re not gonna address the elephant in the room, I’d argue that all we’re doing is fucking around,” he said. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at that. As she relaxed into her chair and took a sip of her drink, memories of them laughing together swam before her. Those tidbits of happiness that she locked away so that they couldn’t hurt her anymore. Back when she thought of him as her whole world. 

“Alright, let’s fuck around,” she said. 

She let him go first. He talked about his son, then about joining the Airborne, about meeting Dick Winters, and he even admitted that he never fired a shot in combat. She told him about nursing school, enlisting, and a bit about her journey through Europe. It was all very surface level and appropriate. But it wasn’t them. 

“Would I be trespassing if I asked about your parents?” he wondered after their third round.

She considered it as she sipped her fourth cocktail. They grew up together, so she supposed it was fair. 

“Fine,” she said. “But it might depress you. Dad passed away, and Mom really hasn’t been the same since.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “They were always nice to me. Even after…”

She nodded, turning her glass on the counter, keeping her watering eyes focused on it. As her mother deteriorated, she kept asking where “that angel Lewis” was. Mrs. Butler doted on Lewis Nixon as if he were her own son. And Bonnie’s was not the only heart broken when everything happened. But now Mrs. Butler was stuck in a time before that, and Bonnie never had the heart to remind her that things were different now. 

“She asks about you,” Bonnie blurted out. “Mom does.”

“And what do you say?” he asked. 

“I tell her you’re coming any day now,” she said. “Of course she doesn’t know the difference. She can’t remember anything.”

He half smiled. “Well, I better go see her so I don’t make a liar out of you.”

She half smiled back. “That’d mean a lot to her.” 

She paused a beat while a doctor and another nurse filed in and took up two stools just a few seats away from her and Lewis. The other two were obviously romantic - their knees touched, their hands lingered close to each other, and they hardly looked at the bartender as they ordered. They were so wrapped up in each other. Bonnie felt the distance between her and Lewis was cavernous in comparison. She took a dink.  

“Um, how are your folks? Feeling alright?” she asked after swallowing.

“Oh, they’re the same as ever,” he said. “A little cold, a little rich. They’re gonna lose it when I tell them about the divorce.”

“You’re a grown man,” she reminded him. “What could they do?”

“You act like growing up means your parents can’t be obnoxious,” he said. “They can and they will.”

She bit her lip with hesitation. “Can I ask you something? It might be crossing a line.”

“Honey, I’m on my fifth whiskey, you can ask me whatever you want,” he assured her, knocking back the last gulp in his glass.

“Why can’t it work between you and Kath - your wife?” she asked. 

She couldn’t bring herself to say the name. Calling her “Kathy” made her who Kathy was. Bonnie’s former best friend who betrayed her in the worst way possible. Calling her “his wife” reduced her to an abstract. She could be anyone in theory. 

“She met someone else,” he answered. “Ironically enough.”

The air around them felt thick again. 

“You can laugh,” he said. “It must feel like poetic justice or something to you.”

She shook her head. “The last thing I feel like doing is laughing. That kind of hurt is not something I would wish on anyone, not even you.”

“It feels like you’re supporting me, but just barely,” he joked. 

She offered a smile. “I’m sorry, Lew. Really, I am.”

“Thanks,” he said. “But how on Earth are you so goddamn understanding?”

Her brow furrowed. “What? I’m not being understanding. I still think you’re rude for what you did.”

He blinked. “Rude?!”

“Yes, rude!” she cried. “You wanna cheat on me? That’s fine! You wanna marry that girl and get her pregnant? Fine! But to make it my best friend? That’s just rude!”

He laughed. An old, buried admiration for his smile crept up into her heart - right along the very cracks he had created and she had forced back together, never fully repairing the damage. She looked away, only to see the other couple was kissing now, and Bonnie had to turn her back to them.

“Well, I apologize for my rudeness,” he said.

“Based on the situation, I’m sure it won’t happen again,” she replied. 

“Ouch,” he said. “But well deserved on my part.”

“I’ll say,” she agreed. “But...can I ask you one more thing?”

“We have already crossed way beyond the line, go ahead,” he said.

“If you two felt that way about each other,” she began. “Why didn’t you just tell me? If you had been honest, I would have told you I’d be fine. I would never have stood in the way of your happiness. The lie hurt me more than the blow to my ego.”

He took a drink of his fresh glass of whiskey and swished it in his mouth briefly before swallowing - a tactic she was familiar with. He was constructing a careful answer.

“First of all, in fairness to us, we had no way of knowing that,” he said. “Second of all, and perhaps worst of all, we...we didn’t want to hurt you.”

“But don’t you see how it’s worse that you -”

“Of course,” he cut across her. “Of course we see how what we did was worse. We were young and stupid and afraid. And look where we are now.”

At that, they both finished their drinks. She bounced her foot a moment as what she was about to say bubbled up. Could she really say it? Did she mean it? She glanced at his face and got her answer. 

“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready.”

“To what?” he asked. “I hope it’s to tell those two to get a room.”

He nodded down the bar at the doctor and nurse. Their drinks remained untouched, but the same could not be said for their legs or their backsides. Bonnie snorted.

“C’mon, give them a break,” she said. “You remember what it was like when it was new.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said fondly. “Remember that time at Joan Watson’s party, when you and I went upstairs and -”

She squeaked to cut him off and her face went beet red. A fleeting memory of his hands on a lot more than her legs made her squirm in her seat. She cleared her throat. 

“As I was saying,” she said firmly. 

“Right, sorry,” he said through a chuckle. “What is it you’re ready for?”

“To forgive you,” she told him. “We’re both different people now, aren’t we?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I’d say that’s true.”

He sat up a little straighter, appearing lighter. He pursed his lips too, fighting the grin that was spreading across his face.

“Wanna get out of here?” she suggested. 

“I’m still enjoying my whiskey,” he said. 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough whiskey for - I dunno - a lifetime?”

“Not my lifetime.”

She rolled her eyes. He met her gaze and smirked. Then, he got to his feet, and offered her his hand. She took it, and they touched for the first time since what they each thought was to be the last time. Who could have imagined they would find each other again in Austria? So far from home and everything they knew together? And yet, through clasped hands, they felt that home was not so far away after all.

He helped her off the stool, they paid, and then walked outside together. The clouds had disappeared and the sun was beating down a fresh, fragrant warmth. The air was clear. The storm had passed. 

[tipsycad147]

Using Magical Poppets and Dolls

You're the only one who can decide what's ethically acceptable for you. Michelle Constantini/Getty Images

By Patti Wigington

Updated January 05, 2019

The magical poppet is one of the most commonly used implements in sympathetic magic, which follows along on the theory that “like creates like.” Although TV shows and movies typically show poppets as the stereotypical "voodoo doll," poppets have been around for a long time, and used in a number of different cultures and religious belief systems. There are many ways to create a poppet, and they can be used to harm or to heal; if you create a poppet of a person, anything done to the poppet will affect the person it represents. Bear in mind that some magical traditions discourage the use of poppets. If you're not sure whether or not it's okay for you to use poppet magic, you may want to check with someone in your tradition.

A poppet is usually made from cloth or fabric, but you can also make one from clay, wax, wood, or just about any other material. You can fill your poppet with herbs, stones, bits of wood, paper, or anything else that suits your needs. In addition to magical items, it's a good idea to include some cotton or polyfill as stuffing material.

Once the poppet is created, you'll need to connect it to the person it represents, which is typically done by using a magical link of some sort. Remember, the poppet is a useful magical tool, and can be used in a variety of workings. Use it for healing, to banish harmful people from your life, to bring abundance your way — the choices are practically limitless.

Poppet History

Fetish dolls on sale at a market in Togo. Danita Delimont/Getty Images

When most people think of a poppet, they automatically think of the Voodoo doll, thanks to this item's negative portrayal in movies and on television. However, the use of dolls in sympathetic magic goes back several millennia. Back in the days of ancient Egypt, the enemies of Ramses III (who were numerous, and included some of his harem women and at least one high-ranking official) used wax images of the Pharaoh, to bring about his death. Let's look at some of the historical uses of poppets in spellwork.

Greek Kolossi

It wasn't uncommon for the Greeks to use sympathetic magic in workings related to love or war. Christopher Faraone, Professor of Classical Languages and Literatures at the University of Chicago, is one of the foremost authorities on Greek magic today, and says that Greek poppets called Kolossoi were sometimes used to restrain a ghost or even a dangerous deity, or to bind two lovers together. In Idyll 2, The Witch (Pharmakeutria), written about 200 b.c.e., the tragedian Theocritus refers to melting and burning wax dolls. He relates the tale of Simaetha, rejected by Delphis, attempts to get her lover back with magic.

The Princess Who Played with Dolls

Wax dolls certainly weren't limited to the ancient classical world. The one-time Princess of Wales, Caroline of Brunswick, was married to the man who later became King George IV, and evidently couldn't stand him. She spent many hours forming wax dolls of her husband and jabbing them with pins. Although there's no concrete evidence as to what this may have done to George, when Caroline ran off to Italy with her young lover, George didn't object. The royal couple remained married but lived separately until Caroline’s death in 1821, according to Witchcraft and Evidence in Early Modern England by Malcolm Gaskill.

West African Fetish Magic

West African slaves brought with them a doll called a fetish when they were forced to leave their homes and come to the American colonies. In this case, the doll is not so much representative of an individual, but is in fact possessed by spirits connected to the doll’s owner. A fetish contains significant power and is typically worn or carried by its owner as a talisman. During America's Colonial period, slave owners were allowed to kill any slave found with a fetish in his possession.

American Hoodoo and Folk Magic

In American Hoodoo and folk magic, the use of poppets as a magical tool became popular following the Civil War. There is some dispute as to whether the dolls are used at all in Haiti, which is the home of Vodoun religion, and a few sources disagree on whether the use of poppets is truly a Vodoun practice or not. However, the Voodoo Museum of New Orleans does stock a variety of dolls in their gift shop.

Regardless of how you make your poppet — out of cloth, a chunk of meat, or a glob of wax, remember that poppets have a long tradition behind them, and that tradition is influenced by the magical practices of a wide range of cultures. Treat your poppets well, and they will do the same for you!

Make Your Own Poppet

Photomorgana/Getty Images

A poppet can be as simple or as elaborate as you like — it all depends on how much time and effort you want to put into it. You can construct one out of just about any material — cloth, clay, wood, wax. Use your imagination! In some magical traditions, it's believed that the more work you put into it, and the more complex it is, the stronger your link will be to your goal. Because a poppet is a device for sympathetic magic, all of its components will be symbols of what it is you hope to achieve.

You can do your poppet-making as part of the working itself, or it can be made ahead of time so you can use the poppet later on. Which method you choose is really up to you.

Remember, your poppet represents a person, so figure out before you begin who it symbolizes. Is it you? A friend who's asked you for help? An un-named lover you want to bring into your life? A gossip you want to shut up? The possibilities are endless, but just like in any spell working, you'll need to set a goal before you begin. It keeps you from having to deal with "do-overs" later. These instructions are for a basic poppet construction, using fabric. Feel free to modify your design as you need to.

Selecting Your Fabric

There are no real rules when it comes to choosing your material, but it's not a bad idea to select fabric based on your goal. If you're doing a money spell, use a piece of green or gold cloth. If you're looking at healing, perhaps something in a soft blue or silver would be best. Check out fabric stores around the holidays, and you can find all kinds of neat patterns.

Valentine's Day designs are perfect for matters of the heart, and there are plenty of prints with dollar signs, coins, stars and moons, and other fun designs.

Another option is to use fabric that links the poppet to the person it represents. Doing a healing spell for a friend? Ask the person for an old t-shirt. If you're trying to draw love into your life, consider using a scrap from that sexy lingerie you wore last night. If you just can't find the right material, use a plain muslin or white felt. Here are a few ideas for designs and colors for poppet magic.

Animals: Brown or green fabrics, patterns with cats or dogs, anything pet-related

Banishing: Black fabric, designs such as swords or wands, dragons or fire

Creativity: Orange or yellow fabric, prints of suns or other fire symbols

Healing: Silver, white or blue, with designs of clouds or other air symbols

Love: Pink or red material, designs like hearts, roses or other flowers, Cupids

Money: Silver, gold or green fabric, or designs of dollar bills or coins, cups or earthy symbols

Protection: Red or white material, with patterns of shields, keys or locks, fences, mistletoe

When it comes to types of fabric, use what's easiest for you to work with. Cotton prints are easy to sew, but if you've never used a needle and thread before, you might want to try something stiffer like felt — it comes in every color you can imagine, and will hold its shape as you sew. If you're an experienced sewer, use anything you like.

A poppet represents a person, so ideally it should look (sort of) like a person. Give it a head, two arms, two legs, a torso. You can make your own outline or you can use the ultimate poppet pattern — a gingerbread man. If you're doing a spell for an animal — such as a healing spell for a sick pet — make the poppet shape accordingly. Your poppet doesn't have to be huge, but it should be big enough that you can stuff it with your ingredients later.

Take two pieces of your fabric, and place them right side together on a flat surface. Place the pattern on top, pin it in place, and cut it out. Leave a little room around the edges for a seam allowance — usually a 3/8" margin is good. Remove the pattern, and there are your two poppet shapes. Time to start sewing!

If you've never sewn anything by hand before, don't panic. It's not hard, but it does require some patience. You could always use a sewing machine if you're pressed for time, but most experienced poppet-makers agree that it's worth the effort to do it by hand. Pin the two pieces of material with the right sides together, and stitch around the edges. Leave an opening somewhere, wide enough to stick a couple of fingers in. Turn the poppet inside out, and begin stuffing.

Personalize Your Poppet

Fill your poppet with something soft, like polyfill or cotton balls. Old pantyhose work nicely too. Work the stuffing all the way into the nooks and crannies of the arms and legs, and then fill the torso and head.

This is where you'll place your spell components — herbs, stones, whatever. In some magical traditions, something from the person represented goes inside the poppet. This is alternately referred to as a taglock or a magical link — it can be bits of hair, nail clippings, body fluids, a business card, or even a photograph. Once everything is inside, sew the poppet completely shut.

The more you can customize your poppet, the better. Even if you've placed a magical link, or taglock, inside, you'll want to decorate the outside too. Draw or paint or sew a face onto your doll. Add yard or string for hair. Dress your poppet in something that looks like the person's clothing. Copy any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing features onto the poppet as well. Add magical or astrological symbols if you like. While you're doing this, tell the poppet who it represents. You can say something along the lines of, "I have made you, and you are Jane Jones."

Your poppet can be used for any number of things—love, money, protection, healing, to get a job. Anything you can imagine, you can make a poppet to bring it about. Simply figure out your goal and the means to achieve it. The only limits on poppet construction are your own creativity and imagination.

6 Easy Poppet Projects

Make protective poppets for each member of your family with modeling clay. amanaimagesRF/Getty Images

Not sure what sort of poppets to create, or how you can use them in a practical application? Try one of these six easy ideas for making and using your own poppets.

1. To Get a Job You've Applied For

Material: satin, green or gold or silver

Herbs: clover, chamomile, ginger, cinnamon

Gemstones: snowflake obsidian or sodalite

Create a poppet to represent yourself. As you make it, focus on the positive attributes that you possess which will make you appealing to a potential employer. Another option is to create the poppet in the image of the employer (include business cards or letterhead inside, if you can get them) and tell the employer poppet why you're the best person for the job.

2. To Protect Your Family

Material: Modeling clay

Herbs: Basil, patchouli, coffee

Gemstones: Hematite, amethyst, black onyx.

Create poppets that represent each member of the family, blending herbs and stones into the clay. Put them in a safe place in your home, such as near your hearth, and utilize magical shielding or cast a circle of protection around them. This is actually a fun project you can get your kids involved in as well — let them each make their own poppet person!

3. To Heal a Sick Person

Material: White cotton or unbleached muslin

Herbs: Lemon balm, feverfew, ivy, and pine.

Gemstones: Bloodstone, turquoise

When you make this poppet, be sure to indicate what you are trying to heal, whether it's a case of tennis elbow, a chronic infection, or even a broken heart. Focus all of your energy on the ailment in question.

4. To Bring Love Into Your Life

Material: Red or pink silk or cotton

Herbs: Rose petals, parsley, and peppermint

Gemstones: Barite, jade, rose quartz

Make a poppet to represent the object of your affection — remember that in some magical traditions it is frowned upon to make a specific person the target of your working. If you are simply trying to attract love to yourself, but you don’t have a specific person in mind, focus on all the desirable qualities you want to see in a potential lover.

5. Silencing a Gossip

Material: Ground beef or other squishy meat

Herbs: Horseradish, pepper, rue, yarrow, valerian

Shape the meat and herbs into a person, and create a "meat puppet" in the same way you'd make a fabric one. As you make the doll, tell it that it's time to be silent, and tell no more gossipy stories. Remind it that people who can't say nice things shouldn't say anything at all. Dispose of the doll by either burning it on your grill and burying it someplace far away, feeding it to your dog, or leaving it out in the sun to rot.

6. Emergency Poppet on the Fly

Material: Aluminum foil

Perhaps something has come up in a hurry, and you feel it needs immediate magical attention. Use a piece of aluminum foil to whip together a quickie poppet — shape it into the figure of a person. Fill with any magical components that might be handy — bits of wood, dirt, grass, even a name scribbled on a piece of paper — and personalize the poppet.

Need additional poppetry ideas? Try making a magical gingerbread poppet, or put together a portable poppets kit to keep in your magical arsenal!

https://www.learnreligions.com/what-are-magical-poppets-4072783

[sanstropfremir]

please let me join the dance conversation since it's the form of art i am actually the most interested in. i've been dancing as a kid for 6 years, and i don't mean to say that that gave me any type of authority in the domain, but it did leave me with the slight ability to recognize a good performance (or whatever makes a good performance to me, personally) and a great appreciation for valueing dancing as acting, like you said. too often i've seen dance ranking videos from actual life-long dancers who value technical skill above anything else. even if they take into consideration the facial expressions, it doesn't hold much weight and that always lowkey pissed me off. because when i am watching a performance, i care way more about the emotional delivery rather than the technical one. of course, this is not to disregard skill, because emotion without skill just ends up messy. good enough to appreciate as a form of authentic self-expression, but still messy, and mess won't make you a good dancer.

i've really enjoyed seeing you say dancing and acting have a mutual component since i've always felt that way too but never knew how to put it in words. two groups that come in mind when thinking about this are blackpink and itzy, i have no idea how familiar you are with them so i'm sorry if the following come across as foreign to you. but i gotta say, regarding bp, i think there's always been discourse over lisa vs rose as the best dancer. technically, everybody knows lisa is miles ahead, and i have to say she has decent stage presence and some pretty nice facial expressions too (taking into consideration how limited bp's concepts have been so far). rose, on the other hand, has a certain style that appeals to a specific audience (which i am not a part of, her lack of body control is so irritating sometimes) but i can see why some would find her charming. i would say her stage presence is decent too, but i can't help but choose lisa over her, and not just because i'm biased. but because in order to be a true dancer, you need the right balance between technique and emotion that gives your performance that star-value and appeal. and let's be real, kpop is really lacking in that "true dancer" department.

another dancing discourse that goes on is in the itzy fandom, where fans are pitting yeji and chaeryeong against each other. their techniques are quite different but they are each very good in their respective style. now, i've seen people call yeji the better "idol dancer" since she has better developed facial expressions, and chaeryeong the better "overall dancer" since people value her technique more. and i'm just like, no. emotion makes or breaks a dancer. everyone can learn technique, but emotion is hard to fake, and when you do, the non-authenticity is very much obvious.

that's why i love san as a dancer. he might not be the most technically skilled, but he is skilled enough to hold his own. and his way of living in the performance, of just letting every feel of the song wash over him and show the audience 110% and more - nothing compares to that, no amount of technicality. stage presence is something you just have, and no matter how much you train for it, you will pale in comparison to a natural.

wow, this is really long so thank you if you take the time to read it all and respond. english is not my first language and sometimes i'm having trouble finding the right words to get my point across exactly how i think of it in my mind, so i hope the message is delivered accurately, haha :D also, i must add i love the way you talk, your speech has a flow and a uniqueness to it you don't find everyday. and we love a developed vocabulary<3 may i ask how old you are?

thank you for the compliment, thats very sweet of you! english is my native language and i have spent just as much time, if not longer doing academics as i have doing performance work so at this point ive developed a very specific style. there’s a joke that theatre design is 90% communication and only 10% design, and it’s not wrong. it helps that i like to talk and my brain works very fast sometimes.

im glad you took the time to write this out! and don't apologize for your english, it's excellent and very clear. you are correct i know very little about blackpink and itzy but i would likely agree with you, dance is equal parts emotion and technique and that is my preference in idols as well. but i don’t think that the kpop industry needs to have ‘true’ dancers, though. yes it is fun to watch those who are technically and charismatically gifted in dance, it is only a portion of the experience that they market. also i think we lose a bit of objectivity in kpop because all idols are required to dance, but i dont think ive seen one recently that's a legitimately bad dancer. even the ‘worst’ dancers that i can think of are still leagues better than the average person on the street, but we see them as ‘bad’ because they work directly alongside peers who are legitimately gifted and have a passion for dance as a form. 

it's interesting to hear you say that everyone can learn technique but emotion is hard to fake, because i hear a lot of dancers say that. i think this comes from a misunderstanding of what exactly acting is and how it works. i would argue that a statement closer to the sentiment that you (and many others) are trying to get is ‘not everyone can do both at the same time.’ the average person is no more predisposed to acting then they are to dance, because acting is a skill that can be taught and exercised in the same way dance can. sure, there are people that have a higher latent ability, but if you put in the work, you can learn. why do you think there are acting classes and schools and conservatories? you can get a doctorate in acting if you really want to. the thing about acting is that in order to be good at it, you have to both understand and be able to implement the correct postures for mimicking human emotion. this is an insanely complex task when you get down to the brass tacks of it. just think about your face and body posture for a moment. why are you sitting/standing in that particular way? why is your face in that particular expression? what do you think your posture is saying to someone who is observing you? how would you change it if you wanted the person to start a conversation with you? if you wanted them to leave you alone? 

there’s also a general assumption that acting comes from a place of genuine or authentic emotion, and this is the fault of modern ‘method’ film acting. i have a very long thesis about how much i hate method acting and i can make a separate post about that if people are curious. but suffice to say, acting very rarely comes from a ‘genuine’ place. it may be informed from a genuine place, but by nature it is not real. thats what makes it acting. and i think dancers seem to be under the impression that showing emotion while dancing has to come from the dancer personally feeling those emotions, when thats not the case at all. this criminal fancam is a perfect example of exactly how good taemin is at putting on a character for a performance. you can very clearly see him drop character after the main camera cuts, and pretty much any concert footage shows this as well.

now, being able to do both a complex system of physical movements with your body and also control the minute details and timing in your facial muscles and posture? thats pretty fuckin hard. not a lot of people can do that, it takes just as much practice as learning technique does, just not in the way that people might think. but it is possible.

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Part One

An AU where All Might is dead and villains run wild, and heroes have gone into Hiding. Shigaraki finds a tiger running around causing problems and takes it back to the League only for it to turn into a little girl with no memories.

Spinner Logs

September 1st

12 PM

Echo won't leave Boss’s side for any reason. I think she imprinted on him or something. Dabi thinks its funny because she literally follows him everywhere around the hideout. All For One thinks its bothersome i i think, he pulled them both into a room to talk to them about something. Don't know what.

Boss has not said anything to Echo about her following him. She grabs hold of his shirt when he walks away to do something, me and Dabi were dumbfounded when we saw it.

Mr Compress should be back soon, i think he was scoping out the Post All Might scene or something. I cant wait for him to meet Echo i think he will like her.

It's my turn to go get food I guess. I wonder what kids eat . That's all i've got for now. 🦎

Dabi Logs

September 1st

1Pm

Lizard you really should learn to hide things better, this little log book you have of Echo is cute. I guess ill clue you in on what's going on while you get food, better have my ramen.

After you left Boss told me he was going to play some kind of online game or whatever as if I cared to know. The pipsqueak was going to follow him to his room but AFO grabbed her and she freaked out .

Something about needing to focus on the mission , i don't know of any mission. Boss told us to lay low for a while. Echo started crying, it was hard to listen if i'm being honest. Boss did not do anything, AFO told Boss to go do whatever he was going to do and he just left.

I can kind of hear AFO talking to Echo but its hard to hear over her sobbing. The hideout has never been this loud before.

Well imma go outside for a cigarette i guess , it's quiet outside. Till next time, Lizard🔥

Spinner Logs

September 1St

2:30PM

Dammit Dabi..

Well whatever , at least he logged about Echo. This was at 1pm? I just got back and she's still crying..where's Boss? His room? He can hear it right?

What does All For One want to talk about so bad? Shes a kid. I hope he's not planning to turn her into a weapon. I hope she calms down soon..im going to unpack this food.

Thats all ive got for now🦎

Spinner Logs

September 1st

7PM

Echo calmed down a half hour later when AFO finally let her go. I heard a door open and then slam shut it sounded like Boss’s door so Echo must have gone in there.

I got Dabis damn ramen he loves so much, my favorite snacks along with Mr Compress’s sushi and Boss’s foods he likes. I ended up getting cereal for Echo, i got the one with the bird on it. I never thought the hardest decision of my life would be between a bird and a caveman on a box of cereal.

AFO asked me if i liked going to get food and i was a little shocked he even talked to me. I was not sure how to answer him but i don't think he cared for my answer anyway because he said he was going out.

The hideout was calmer once he left, Dabi came back as well to scope out the food, he smelled like a pack of smokes. I like Dabi, hes easy to talk to , well for me he is.

Mr Compress came back around 6. I'm relieved he's okay. Boss emerged from his room finally to greet him, with Echo behind him peeking over his leg at Mr Compress. The look he had was priceless to everyone.

The first thing he asked was if Boss had a secret love child. Boss chuckled and Echo hid behind his leg while Boss explained the situation to his friend.

Dabi made ramen at some point at the bar, Boss and Mr Compress moved to the couches to talk , Echo right next to him. He explained AFO would be around a lot and Echos quirk, he called it Morph.

All we really know is Echo can turn into a tiger whenever she wants. Its an interesting quirk to say the least.

Mr Compress tried to make light of the conversation by showing Echo a card trick . She looked like she enjoyed it, Mr Compress always gave me the impression he was good with kids.

Echo was dozing off on Boss’s arm while he played his switch. She's so cute to me, it looked like she had never seen a Switch before too, her eyes were huge with interest, Boss even explained the game to her. Its nice seeing him so calm.

Mr Compress told me about the scene outside and I told him my food adventure. Mr Compress told me The Pro Heroes are in hiding, even Endeavour. The rank system for Heroes is no more, UA is locked down for who knows how long and Villains are running around free. My experience was about the same. No Pros, no Quirkless, only villains. Oh well, free food.

That's all ive got for now. Im sleepy 🦎

Shigaraki Logs

September 1ST

1PM

What am I going to do with you two idiots?

AFO took Echo away to talk to her I guess. I felt weird watching her cry. Why did i feel weird? AFO is great. I don't understand.

I could not focus on my game with her crying so i just stared at the screen listening. She follows me around constantly for whatever reason , even grabs onto my shirt like a lost puppy. I don't understand.

She's still crying and I want to go comfort her. What's wrong with me? I should be thinking about ruling the world. Its mine now. But all i can focus on right now is telling Echo everything will be okay. I don't understand.

The crying stopped and I heard my door open and slam shut. Echo ran over to me and before I could say anything she climbed onto my lap sobbing. My arm was around her before I even realized I did it. I don't understand.

She told me AFO was scary and she did not want to do jobs for him or train. It was confusing because AFO is not scary, hes great. I tried to tell her this and she shook her head disagreeing. I don't understand.

Mr Compress is back and Spinner got food. Of course Dabi is eating his ramen.

I was amused over Mr Compress’s little joke. Haha. Hes lucky hes a vital member of this League. It was good to catch up on how things were outside and with him. From what he said everything was up for grabs and those dirty Pros were all gone or hiding.

I wonder when AFO is coming back, Echo really likes my switch. Her eyes follow everything that moves like a cat. Her quirk is an interesting one that's for sure. Im curious if her tiger will get bigger as she grows.

Echo fell asleep on my arm so i brought her to my room to put her to sleep. She woke up though once i set her down on my bed asking me to stay and tell her a story. Do I look like I know a kids bedtime story?

I thought of something of course, after a minute of thinking. She looked like she enjoyed it. I decided to stay till she actually fell asleep. Only one up right now was Dabi anyway.

Echo called me father. I dont understand.

Till whenever, i guess. 🐯

••

@bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @squeaky-ducky @thegirlwhoharnessedthelight

[fireinmoonshot]

REBEL | ARMITAGE HUX x READER | PART SEVEN

CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE RISE OF SKYWALKER.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX Summary: Armitage Hux finds himself strangely fascinated by you, a Resistance fighter and pilot, even though he knows he shouldn’t. You know that there’s much more to him than you see on the surface. Pairing: female!Reader x Armitage Hux Fandom: Star Wars Word Count: 4560 Warnings: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER SPOILERS, death mentions.  A/N: First of all, thank you for being so patient in waiting for this one! I’ve had the absolute busiest couple of days after Christmas, especially with work and going to see TROS again on Saturday. I’m a bit uncertain about this chapter simply because I’m terrible at writing Star Wars battle scenes... but I tried my best and did a few drafts of this and now I’m just putting it up so I can move on to writing Part Eight. Anyway, thank you for all the love so far. I hope you enjoy this part – the longest so far! Read it on Ao3 here.

Armitage Hux has never particularly been a fan of hot weather.

In the hours he’s spent on Ajan Kloss, hidden away in the caves of the Klosslands and moving back and forth between your quarters and the Tantive IV – what used to be General Leia Organa’s command ship – he’s witnessed two spontaneous downfalls of rain followed by an unfair amount of sun, and the warmth that came with it was the worst of all. He really wasn’t used to it – on the Steadfast for the past few months, he’s been surrounded by a constant generated cool air. Here, there’s no such thing.

He shrugs off his coat when he sits down in your quarters, even though it’s the lightest one you could find him. He doesn’t mean to make himself too comfortable, though, so it remains on his lap. This is, after all, your place, and not his. He can’t assume. But the thinner shirt is much more comfortable in the afternoon heat of Ajan Kloss, and you don’t seem to mind as much about the formalities of uniform here, not like the First Order. He’s noticed that half of the Resistance don’t even wear their rank on their sleeves.

It’s refreshing.

–

With him here, now, you feel as though you’ve discovered an entirely different man. Armitage, a Resistance fighter has an entirely different manner to General Hux of the First Order. You’ve taken the time to study the differences in the silence of the afternoon while you wait for any kind of good news, though you fear it may never come.

He sits on a chair across the room from you and stares out the open curtain at the bustling Resistance base outside. The quarters that you live in are nothing special and were assembled quickly, which explains why you can hear the buzz of everyone still talking and working outside. It’s something you’ve grown to find quite reassuring, though you’re unsure what Armitage has come to think of it.

It must be a large change for him.

He still holds himself as tall and proud as he did when you saw him on the Steadfast for the first time, a member of the First Order through and through. He still has trouble allowing his emotions to pass over his face without hiding them immediately, which is something you assume he was taught. Yet sometimes you spot a vague smile on his lips or the beginning of a small twitch of laughter. Every time you notice something like that, you’re even happier that you made the choice to offer him your hand and that he made the choice to take it.

Perfectly timed, and just as you open your mouth to break the silence, a frantic knock sounds on your door. Armitage looks away from the outside, at the door and then at you.

“It’s open.”

The door clicks open and Rose stands on the other side. “Artoo, he’s found something. You need to come and see this.” Her eyes flick between you and Armitage. You notice how her eyebrows furrow briefly. And then she surprises you. “Both of you.”

–

Poe is standing alongside Finn, Rose, Chewie, Beaumont and Larma when you both arrive. He’s staring down at something on the screen in front of him, a small moving dot, with a grin on his face. It’s the happiest you’ve seen him look in a while. Finn wears an equally large smile on his own face as he sees you.

You lean down and look at the dot yourself. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Red Five – the infamous X-wing of Luke Skywalker.”

“Oh, it’s Rey,” you breathe, and then you laugh to yourself.

She’s transmitting the location of Exegol to you. She’s leading you right to it, and right now you’re more proud to be her friend than you ever have been.

There’s a smile on your face when you turn and look up at Armitage, and he almost wants to smile at you in return – if only because you seem so infectiously overjoyed. “This is your moment. Is there anything we should know before we follow her?”

Armitage stares at you for a moment, shock filling his system. You’re turning to him for information. You’re counting on him for the help you need. The others around you all follow your lead and direct their attention to him, and he can’t help but perk up a little at the attention. It’s been a while since he’s felt useful.

He doesn’t know just how much information he can give you. But he scours his brain for anything anyway because the feeling of being included is one he finds unfamiliar in a good way. Actually being needed fills him with hope, because after so many months of being pushed back by Allegiant General Pryde, he’d started to feel as though he wasn’t that necessary after all.

–

There’s a buzz in the air as the Resistance runs. Pilots sprint past you to change into their suits, fighters run to the weaponry to stock up on blasters. You notice people hugging, making their goodbyes, and you can’t quite believe that this is it. That after years of fighting, this is the moment it’s all come down to.

Poe gives you a look as he runs off to change, and just as you’re about to make your move to run back to your own quarters and change too, Armitage holds out a hand to stop you.

“Where do you need me?”

“Where do you want to be?”

He pauses. He’s never been in the center of the action. He’s never been a fighter – he’s always been the one to oversee the fighting. To watch on, to tell them what to do and where to hit the hardest. But he knows that he can’t just sit and watch on this one, no matter how dangerous. He can’t sit back, let you and the rest of the Resistance fight your own way out of this and wait for the outcome, whether good or bad.

He has to fight.

“I can’t fly, but I’m not bad with a blaster.”

It’s half a lie. He’s not very good with a blaster in combat.

You don’t see through it, though. You’re impressed, only you hadn’t expected him to offer to fight alongside you. “You heard Finn talking about the ground team he’s leading to take out the nav system? What do you say to joining that team and helping to take it down?”

“I say that sounds entirely acceptable.”

Rose runs past you, and you hold out an arm and stop her. “Hey, you going to the armoury?” She nods. “Can you take Armitage? He needs a blaster. He’s gonna join you on the ground team. Get him kitted up, I need to go change.”

“Yeah, but we need to go now.” Rose beckons him.

There’s no time to waste.

“I’ll find you before we leave!” You point at him, and then you run.

–

Armitage stands and waits by your X-wing – a T-70 X-wing starfighter, black in colour with flares of bright green on the nose. Rose had pointed it out to him when they’d left the armoury and he’d told her he wanted to wait for you. He’s glad he’ll hopefully be able to pick it out among the other X-wings on Exegol.

And you, you keep your word.

You’re dressed in the orange suit of the X-wing pilots when he spots you, much like the suit he’d seen Poe wearing when he’d walked past him to his own X-wing only moments earlier. It’s a different look on you compared to the muted browns and greens of your Resistance uniform, but it suits you – the look of oncoming battle. You look strong, fierce, ready for whatever awaits you on Exegol. He’s a little uneasy at the thought, but he puts his best front on for your sake.

He’s really never fought like this before.

“I got you a little something on my way here,” you say, and he notices you’re a little out of breath, likely from the chaos of getting everything in order before the attack. You hold it out towards him. “Since your First Order buddies took my last one on Pasaana, I figured we should start over, find a way to still keep in contact. And this is the only way we’re gonna be able to stay in touch when we reach Exegol.”

In your hand is a small comlink device.

He takes it out of your hand and then attaches it to his ear.

“Are you positive about flying? You are still injured.” He tries, once.

You fix him with a look. “I’ve done this before, remember? I’m fine. You are the one you need to worry about. You’ve never seen combat like this before, have you?”

And just like that, you catch him.

He clears his throat. “No, not necessarily.”

“Just… follow Finn and Rose’s lead. They’ve got your back. I know it. We all do. As long as you don’t have a momentary lapse and can’t blast the Stormtroopers… you should be fine.”

“There won’t be any problems there. I have blasted some before, you remember.”

You smile. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

Armitage stands tall, glances at your X-wing and then back at you. “You stay safe. I’ve heard and seen that it’s a dangerous business, flying a starfighter in an air fight.”

“You’ve heard right.” You pause, and then look down at the ground for a second, unsure if you should say what you’re thinking. But then you decide to bite the bullet and do it – because you know you’ll regret it if you don’t. “Listen, if I don’t come back from this– if things go wrong and I don’t make it out alive, which is a very real possibility, just stick with Poe or Finn and–“

He snaps. “Don’t say that!”

It’s the first moment in a long while where he’s truly reminded you of the General Hux you’d heard the stories of. The famed General Hux of the First Order, destroyer of planets, killer of civilisations. His eyes get darker, and even though he looks like a Resistance fighter with his brown cotton shirt and slightly messy red hair, you can still sense his upbringing behind the uniform, the remains of a lifetime on the dark side.

And all at the suggestion of your death.

Armitage realises his mistake too late. He swears under his breath and drops his eyes to the ground. He hadn’t meant to say it like that– he’d just wanted to stop you. “Forgive me.”

He peeks up at you through his eyelashes with slightly red tinted cheeks.

His eyes are no longer dark. His expression has changed from the harsh one to a softer one and you see the Armitage you know coming back. You nod slowly at him. “Forgiven.”

And then you surprise both him and yourself by throwing your arms around him and pulling him into a hug.

It’s a little lopsided. He’s taller than you. But you both make it work.

It takes a moment for Armitage to hug you back. It takes him off guard. He’s never… has he ever been hugged before? He can’t recall. But his father was never one for those sort of pleasantries, and he can’t remember a moment in his past at all where he remembers the sensation of a hug. But then he allows his arms to wrap around you and hold you back.

His first hug, and it’s you.

“I meant what I said. You be safe on that ship, Armitage. You come back.”

You pull away, but you keep him at arms length.

“I meant it too.”

Your astromech – R6-LE5 – beeps impatiently from behind you where she waits at the foot of your X-wing. Everyone else around you is getting into their fighters and getting ready for departure, and she’s urging you on. Time is running out, and goodbyes should be brief.

“I’m coming, Leefive. I’m coming.” You turn back to Armitage. “I’ll see you back in this very spot when we win.”

And with that, he watches as you climb up the ladder to your X-wing and slide inside. As you close the roof of the cockpit over your head and secure your helmet. As your droid slots herself into place behind you.

You wave at him as you start the engine.

This time, he waves back.

–

Your first sight of Exegol is enough to inspire nightmares.

The fleet is bigger than you ever expected it to be, and your first sight is soon enough marred by the starfighter beside you being blown to pieces. You swerve to the left, avoiding the debris as much as possible, and wince. You’d never thought this was going to be easy, but you’d had better hopes than this.

Below you, the fleet have begun to fire their cannons at you, and you fall back into the habit of flying your X-wing easily. After months of switching between it and Armitage’s TIE fighter, it feels good to be flying something that’s entirely yours again. It’s dangerous, but you’re filled with adrenaline as you dodge the blaster beams and fire back.

It’s not long after that your excitement is squandered.

“The navigation tower has been de-activated!”  

“What?” Finn sounds panicked.

“The ships need that signal. It’s gotta be coming from somewhere.”

“They figured out what we’re doing. Call off the ground invasion!” Poe calls in, and you can’t help but agree with him – how can they take down the navigation tower when the First Order has done it themselves?

But Finn has other plans. The channel goes silent for a moment, and then he speaks, more confidently than ever. “Wait… the nav signal’s coming from that command ship. That’s our drop zone.”

“You wanna launch a ground invasion on a Star Destroyer?” Lieutenant Tyce says everything that you’re thinking.

“Finn, you can’t be serious!” It’s your turn to object. “You can’t do that! It’s too dangerous! We have to find another way!” You’re worried about his safety – and Rose and Armitage’s safety too. Allowing him to set foot on the destroyer that you’d helped Armitage escape from hours earlier was too risky… what if you lost and they took him back?

“I have no choice! I don’t want to, but I have no choice,” Finn yells in reply. “We can’t take out that ship’s nav system from the air. Give us cover. We gotta keep that fleet there till help arrives… we hope.”

You dodge out of the way of an oncoming blaster charge and your X-wing spins, but through the chaos you manage to hear two more words – not spoken by Finn or Poe or Rose, or even Tyce, but the voice is still familiar. It’s Armitage, and it gives you the boost you need.

“Trust him” is all he says.

Finn looks at him, eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and something passes between the two of them. It’s not admiration, not love, not friendship, but some kind of respect – they’re words Finn never thought he’d hear Armitage say. But Armitage nods at him once, and Finn nods back, and they know they’re both on the same page. This is the time to be brave.

–

When the landers set down on the Steadfast and the Resistance begin their invasion, blasters raised among those fighting and firing towards the Stormtroopers that have covered the top of the destroyer in an act of defiance, you try and look for Armitage among them, but it’s a failed attempt.

You’d thought he would be easy to spot, but there are too many people, too many blaster shots and you can’t get a clear look at anything on the ground, let-alone in the sky around you. Smoke and debris floats around you and dodging it as well as the attacks from the cannons is hard enough.

And you’re too pre-occupied with not being blown up yourself.

Below, on the Steadfast, Armitage fights against those he once trusted. He has to admit, it is rather thrilling to fire blaster shots at Sith Troopers and have them fall at his hands. From when he first did it hours ago with the Stormtroopers to now, he feels like he’s getting the hang of it – and he’s not sure whether to like that or not. He’s doing his part, though, and that has to be worth something.

He’s not very good with his blaster in combat, and he dodges a few blaster shots from the First Order several times. The near misses, he decides not to tell you about. He thinks he will tell you about blasting the Sith Trooper that got a little too close to comfort by Rose.

And you, flying up high in the sky above you. He thought he’d have a chance to at least pause and try and find you, to make sure you were still flying and not destroyed by the First Order, but it’s so fast paced and frantic on the ship that he barely has a chance to breathe.

His attention is forced away from worry as an explosion up above knocks the nav tower offline, and he stumbles backwards from the force of it alongside several other Resistance fighters beside him. One of them turns to him, grins and then whoops rather loudly, and he has to smile back.

They’ve done it.

Armitage holds up a hand to the comlink at his ear. “Did you see that?”

You can hear the excitement in his voice, and you wish you could see it on his face. “I saw that!”

“Nice one, Finn!” Nav signal’s down, but not for long!” Poe yells over the comms.

And then the people around Armitage are turning the other way and running back towards the landers. It’s time to leave now that they’ve done what they came for. In the distance, his eyes fall on Finn and Jannah – they’re stopping, looking at something, and then he watches as they run in the opposite direction.

Something deep within him itches to follow them. To do more than necessary. To help them in whatever they’re running away to do. But he can’t bring himself to follow the feeling. He’s a runner, not a fighter. He’d be more of a hindrance than a help. And he hopes you and the rest of the Resistance can forgive him as he turns and begins the run back to the landers, choosing safety over glory.

Any part of him that truly remained General Hux of the First Order, he leaves behind on the Steadfast as soon as his feet hit the ground of the Resistance lander.

–

It’s exhausting. The constant jump back and forth between feeling like you’re winning and feeling like you’re losing. And just when you think you think everything is going well, when the nav tower is knocked offline, when you start to gain the upper hand, things start to crack and crumble again.

The fighter beside you goes up in flames.

Poe warns Snap about the TIE fighters on his tail. He says he sees them. And then you watch him go down, hurtling to the surface of a destroyer… you’re yelling and you don’t even realise it – another member of the remnants of Black Squadron gone, a friend gone…

You start to wonder if you can even win this at all.

Another fighter close to you is blown up, and you swerve away from it, missing a blaster shot from an oncoming TIE fighter by inches as you do. Your comms are filled with the voices of the other pilots – they’re asking Poe what to do, and you see several other members of your team go down in flames as you hear them.

But what can you add? What can you add to make them feel better?

Nothing.

You’re floating in midair trying to catch your breath when Poe finally tries to find the words. They’re not the ones you wanted to hear. They’re not the ones you need to hear. But he says them anyway. “My friends… I’m sorry… I thought we had a shot… but there’s just too many of them.”

And then… another voice.

“But there are more of us, Poe. There are more of us.”

It’s instinct, how you spin your X-wing around and fly a little higher. You feel like the air is swept entirely from your lungs as you see hundreds of thousands of ships. They came – this time, they came for you.

The exhaust you felt from being whipped back and forward by the winning and the losing is gone entirely at the sight of the ships. Because you know you have this now. Your fleet is bigger, it’s better… and it’s filled with thousands of people from all over the universe who want to see nothing else but Palpatine and the first order taken down.

Poe is clearly invigorated by the realisation “Hit those underbelly canons, every one we knock out is a world saved!”

And you do it. You turn back and hurtle towards the closest ship, your blasters firing at the canons underneath until finally, they explode into a fiery orange burst of hope. You’re laughing as you dodge it and move onto the next one.

You’ve got this.

–

His lander is yet to move from the surface of the Steadfast when everything starts to fall around him, quite literally. His heart is beating fast from the adrenaline and he’s collapsed onto a crate in the corner of the ship in an attempt to catch his breath when he sees something out of the small window on the opposite side.

An A-wing, falling – free falling through the air, but it looks perfectly normal. It’s not on fire, from what he can see, it hasn’t been hit and– then there’s a flicker of something.

Armitage is on his feet in seconds, standing by the window along with several other Resistance fighters who have noticed something is wrong. It looks like… lightning. He’s never seen anything like it before.

He feels like his heart stops as he sees the familiar black and green of your X-wing following the A-wing rather rapidly towards the ground. He steps back, allows the others to crowd around the window, and tries to reach you.

“Do you copy? I repeat, do you copy? What’s going on? Are you all right?”

Armitage glances back at the window, but he can’t see your X-wing anymore. He falls back on the crate, heart racing just as fast as it was before, perhaps even faster, and holds his breath.

He’d thought things were going well.

He should have known better than to assume something good.

–

You definitely do not have this.

The screen of your X-wing starts to flicker. Your controls – you don’t have control anymore. You try and move your X-wing, but nothing is happening.

“Leefive, what’s happening? My systems are failing! I don’t have control!”

She beeps, but you can’t make out what she says. And nothing happens. She doesn’t reboot the systems of fix anything, and you fiddle with the controls inside your X-wing but nothing is working. Your stomach drops as your X-wing falls.

You try again. You’re falling – you’re falling and you have no control.

“Does anyone copy?” You call through the comms. “Armitage, do you copy? I’ve lost control, my systems are failing. I’m going down, I repeat, I am going down! Poe, Finn– Armitage, does anybody copy?”

The screen flickers again, and you suddenly stop falling.

Poe’s voice is in your ear like he never left it.

“This is our last chance, we’ve gotta hit those cannons now!”

You’re confused. You’re more confused than you think you ever have been in your entire life. You feel sick to your stomach from the drop, but your systems are back online as if they were never offline in the first place, and behind you, Leefive is whirring and beeping happily. You take a second to breathe deeply before you launch your final assault.

“Armitage, do you copy?” You’re saying the words before you even really meant to.

It’s instinct.

His reply comes moments later, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice.

“Are you all right? Are your systems working?”

“I’m okay– they’re back now. What about you and the others?”

Armitage looks around the lander. “We hadn’t left the Steadfast when whatever that was happened. It didn’t seem to affect our ship. It just affected you.” He looks out the window again, just in time to see you whizzing past towards the ship. They’ve taken off now, left the Steadfast, and he’s airborne again. “I saw you falling.”

“I know. I know. But I’m good.”

If he says anything in return, you don’t hear it. You’re firing on the cannons, and then– the command ship, the Steadfast, the place you’d been on hours earlier and the place Armitage no longer called his home, starts to fall.

–

Rey joins you in Luke’s old X-wing as you leave Exegol.

You can’t seem to wipe the smile off of your face as you pull your helmet from your head, giving yourself some much needed air. It’s warm in your fighter, and you wipe the sweat from your brow. You hope you never have to see Exegol again.

“We did it,” you breathe. “Leefive, we did it!”

She beeps excitedly behind you, and you grin.

“Hey Finn, Poe– congratulations, Generals.” You follow the Falcon as it speeds off ahead of you and back towards Ajan Kloss. Poe had told you briefly before you left that he’d made the decision to bring Finn on as a co-general. And now, you were certain he’d made the right decision.

Without Finn, who knows what could have happened?

You hear Poe’s laughter as his only reply.

–

Down on the lander, flying beneath you all, Armitage listens in with a small smile on his face. You’d won. The Resistance had won, and he was on the winning side. Long gone were the days where he wished for Kylo’s loss and nobody’s win.

The comlink in his ear fizzes.

“Hey, Armitage. You hearing this?”

“I am very much hearing this.”

“I’ll see you back on Ajan Kloss, right? The same place as before?”

Armitage nods, and then realises you can’t see him. “I’ll be waiting.”

Your face breaks out into a grin. “Not if I get there first.”

He has no chance.

The comms go out again, and he allows himself a moment to think about how it feels to hear your voice again – this time not frantic or rushed from the chaos of the fight. But just calm, relieved. There’s an edge of excitement in your voice and Armitage likes hearing it.

He had his doubts about the Resistance’s win. When you’d said you’d see him back on Ajan Kloss when they won, he’d walked away unsure if he would see you or Ajan Kloss again. But now, as the lander picks up speed and begins the journey back, he knows he will. He knows that Allegiant General Pryde is dead. He knows that the First Order is as good as. He is all that remains. And he is better than what they became.

–

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[esonikofanfiction]

K: TALES OF MIDNIGHT: CHAPTER IV: ROOK

"You should rest, Mr. Fushimi," The Captain offered.

"Like hell," came the reply. 

While all the ranks of Scepter 4 had been deployed from Headquarters and Akira Industries to the unlit realm of darkness that was Tokyo, Fushimi wasn't about to let the tediousness of sleep obstruct him from snatching his last opportunity to catch the aggravating Rei Kiyoka, the nemesis he loathed, the one with whom he shared an equal blame in causing recent events. The blackout, having thus deposited the city into darkness, cast it likewise into chaos, a chaos that the Blue King was then forced to sweep back into order, lest the city overrun itself. 

While, no doubt, the police were busy quelling violence springing up amongst the general populous, Scepter 4 had its hands full of criminality pertaining to the realm of the supernatural. Therefore, if Fushimi couldn't sleep on account of utter rage and a thirst for vengeance, it was a guarantee he would find no sense of peace when all of Tokyo lay a seething mass of lawlessness and turmoil. 

Fushimi's abrupt response to the Captain's thoughtful — albeit unrealistic — suggestion, was met with no resistance. The Captain made no effort to instruct him on the proper course of action he should take (or not take), nor to inquire as to what Fushimi planned to do instead. He said nothing, which Fushimi ascertained as an unofficial signal to continue in whatever manner he saw fit. It appeared that Munakata had some faith left in his favorite of the Blues, a sentiment that, earlier, Fushimi deemed as pointless and unnecessary. Only then did he discover (however faintly) that while faith was never needed for assurances of friendliness, it did have a way of making his job easier to do.

With this in mind, Fushimi ventured out alone into the dim of early morning, that unpredictable landscape to which, from every shadow in the city, all the little terrors had sprung, wreaking havoc in abundance, free from all restraint, until societal decorum should restore itself again. 

Fushimi had spent enough time in dismal situations both personally and — if one could speak thus of the likes of Homra — professionally to know what he was up against. He knew what sort of creatures lingered in the dark. He, himself, for all intents and purposes, was one of them. In places where no sense of light could penetrate, those unpredictabilities and dangers, held no power over him; nor at the very least, on his subconscious. Therefore not an ounce of fear prevailed itself upon him but the thought of Rei Kiyoka and the urge to bring her down.

Just one clue — abysmal and, in truth, perhaps a dead end — was left to him: the ‘circle’ was indeed complete, as Munakata said. The inner radius of Tachibana, Yotsuya and Yoyogi stations left some sleuthing still to do. 

If I'm going to find anything down there, he told himself, now's the time: while the city's in shambles. Wait too long, and whatever evidence is down there'll be long gone — that's even assuming something’s there to begin with. That psycho played me twice already. It's not like I'm holding my breath. 

Once again, Fushimi understood the sheer absurdity that came from his obsession; likewise he could see the paradox, grumbling at the actuality of it: I can't just leave a clue, no matter how pointless. What’s worse is that she knows it. 

If, by some odd chance, obsession and a hunch paid off, Fushimi had hoped to pick up Kiyoka's trail. But then, when are the odds ever reassuring? He fought inwardly, rubbing tired fingers over dreary, blood-shot eyes. Either it’ll lead me straight to her, or it'll be a shit waste of time, or both. Outwardly, he sighed. “Geez.”

Not long after, he was at Yoyogi Station, the most recent place in which he'd picked up Kiyoka's signal. In the dull, deserted station, he switched on his wrist device to reveal a holographic screen: a 3D map of Shizume’s metro system. However this one carried further into the deep labyrinth of windy sewers, tunnels, all those incomplete passageways beneath the subway lines. As it was, no modern map existed of the vast, elicit network known as the Shizume Underworld, nor would one have helped. Part of the mystery surrounding the Underworld was that it was constantly evolving.

Nevertheless, Fushimi had his ways of proctoring the data that he needed, layering what intel he could find until an adequate map had pieced itself together. Riddled still with gaps and forcing him, in sections, to maneuver blindly through, he carried on, unhindered in his search.

Silently, he trekked his way down concrete stairwells, past the service doors, scaling afterward, a rusted iron ladder, to the grime-filled sewers below: the upper echelons of the Underworld. 

It smelt of dank and thick precipitation, every little sound a harrowed echo running through an endless web of corridors. 

Approaching a massive cavern indiscernibly deep, he found another metal ladder that descended into it, seemingly to nowhere. Without a care, he ventured down, his holographic map his sole illumination in the dark. 

The ladder carried down about a hundred feet or so. When at last he reached the bottom, he was met with yet another set of stairs, at the end of which, passing through an arched walkway, he came upon a larger, surprisingly less disgusting chamber than the others; nor was it so life-suckingly dark: a vague inclination, he suspected. It was indeed a contrast to the overly decrepit halls left totally abandoned near the surface: A tactical decision, he divined. If it looks like no one's home, they won't be bothered by too many visitors — only those who come here looking for them. 

Further signs of life revealed themselves the deeper in he went. Observing the walls, he found them littered with graffiti, coded guiding signals, evidence of secret trysts: messages encrypted in the slang that only those within the Underworld could read. The damp, as well, had greatly eased itself; the smell of rot and filth had faded to a mild, somewhat cool scent of stone.

Fushimi had hypothesized that many of the Underworld had stolen street-side, no doubt anxious for a chance to enter the festivities. But surely not everyone, he figured, peering all around. The place had seemed unnervingly deserted up until then, an observation that had begun to make him wary. Even those astute in keeping themselves hidden from his eyes could not have managed to conceal a sense of presence that Fushimi would have naturally discerned, and yet he felt nothing, nothing whatsoever; until at once, he did. From utter emptiness to an all-invasive force, he sensed a set of eyes, distinct, pursuant of him and him alone, approaching from behind. 

Fushimi didn’t stop. Hiding his perception in his movements, he journeyed on as though he hadn't noticed. Meanwhile, his is slim daggers hidden neatly up his sleeves crept silently into his grasp.

He wound down more deserted halls and stairwells, following his makeshift map, thoroughly engrossed within the maze. The eyes followed.

After some time, sensing the inaction on the part of his pursuer, Fushimi began to feel a bit restless. Let’s see what you're made of, shall we? He decided. 

Abandoning his slow and steady course, he jerked himself around the nearest corner, feigning escape. 

He broke into a jog, weaving round one corner, then another. Then for the first time, he could hear the steps of his pursuer speeding up to match. Not just a pair of eyes now, are we?

Coming to a forked path, Fushimi didn’t hesitate. Picking one at random, he removed his wrist device and set it on the ground, the holographic map igniting him in dim electric hues. He quickly rose and crept his way down the adjacent fork, hiding in the shadows. 

A moment later, he could hear the steps of his assailant growing, thumping ever-louder before stopping altogether.

Peering from his hiding place, he saw the darkened silhouette of a somewhat slight figure, hooded, stooping to retrieve his wrist device. Silently, he crept out from the shadows, taking stance directly in the figure’s rear.

“Looking for me?” He said. Before another movement could be made, he had the figure pinned inside a power hold, a red-soaked dagger drawn below the neck.

His captive cried out in alarm. “Wait! Hold up! I didn’t mean anything, man! I swear!“

All at once the tension ceased. Fushimi slumped with thorough agitation. “You must be joking,” he said, spinning round the figure. Swiping back the hood, he found a grungy teenage boy, staring horrorstruck at him. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry!” He stumbled out, holding up his hands in a surrender pose. "I just thought I’d make an easy score, that’s all!”

Fushimi clicked his tongue. Just an ordinary nobody.

“Look, man. Clearly I was wrong but –”

 “Damn right, you were,” Fushimi interrupted, releasing the boy with a shove. The boy gave back a slight, uncertain look. “Go,” Fushimi ordered. “And don’t come back.” 

The Underling perceived. He fumbled back a step, nodding furiously. “Y-you got it, man! I...thanks!” And with another a cautious glance back to Fushimi, he took off in a run, scurrying back the way he came. 

Fushimi ran his fingers through his hair, grumbling to himself. “Kids.”

After that, he met no other obstacles, nor could he detect the eyes of further Underdwellers lurking in the shadows far beyond. He was alone, almost uncomfortably so, and then he realized why. I must be getting close, he ascertained. Wherever there are aura-wielders, normal people tend to run and hide – If you could really call these people normal, he added, thinking back to the boy he nearly sliced up with his dagger by mistake. From the look of him, the boy was all of thirteen years of age, yet even then Fushimi saw in him a slithering creature doomed to a degrading life of darkness and betrayal, of filth in every aspect, of lying, cheating, stealing, of ignorance and carelessness to every other form of life beyond that which he knew; but above all, Fushimi saw death – not immediately perhaps, but slowly over time, a festering decay that eats the soul away until there’s nothing left to call a man human anymore. This particular thought brought to Fushimi’s mind all sorts of other things, things he had forgotten, things too close to home. Sensing this, he quickly pulled away as one might redirect himself on taking a wrong turn somewhere. Thereafter, he referred back to his wrist device, following his map as thoroughly as before, lest he start to wander once again throughout a set of mental halls more intricate than those inside the Underworld.

He guessed that he’d been wandering around for about an hour when he came across a thick metal door - the first he’d actually come to that wasn’t already open or partially broken in. On the contrary, this one seemed relatively new. Adding to suspicion, it was locked. Fushimi found this amusing. You’d be better off hanging up a sign that says, ‘Here we are,’ than putting something so obvious as a locked door here. Of course I’m going to go in.

Less than a minute and Fushimi had successfully cracked the keypad and trekked his way inside. 

Standing at the threshold, he peered into a room chock-full of blinking screens reflecting neon glimmers off the lenses of his glasses. "Now we're talking," he said, slipping inside. 

Near the end of the room, he found a small cluster of monitors and slid into the chair before them, pulling out a thin magnetic disk, which he plopped atop the drive. Instantly, he set to work, scanning lines of code, gathering what intel he could find.

As he did, a screen behind him sounded out a little ding. Spinning round, he found a small IM box open on the lower left-hand side. The chime had been an alert, signaling an incoming message. 

Sliding over to it, Fushimi skimmed its contents, subsequently pausing as he read the final line. 

“Kawaguchi Industries: Payment received from Aka Shinku Technologies - item K004: localization complete // algorithm link established.”

"A transaction?" He said, squinting. “So Kawaguchi Industries sold the algorithm? But that can't be right. The algorithm was stolen from Kawaguchi. How could they have sold something they didn't even have? And who the hell is Aka Shinku Technologies? Why do they need the algorithm? Or do they actually have it?" Skeptical, he read the message over. Localization complete. Algorithm link established. "But that would mean..." 

Scowling hard, his eyes roamed out to all the other monitors, their glowing screens replete with running lines of code. Subconsciously, he followed them, searching, thinking. Something didn't add up. 

"Wait a second," he said, checking them again. "The algorithm: it was never actually uploaded to any physical drive, was it? The reason why I haven't been able to find a location for it is because technically, it isn't anywhere. Or I guess, it's currently everywhere at once. It must still be swimming around in some sort of an online matrix. That way, it wouldn't need a facility to house itself, and you could feasibly tap into it from anywhere in the world and have instant, total access to it. And yet, its supernatural influence must be what's making it so impossible to find." Then all at once, it dawned on him. "So that's how she did it. The only way to keep it safe while letting it roam out there in the open is to tie it to an aura, a very unique aura, one that no-one else has. Therefore, the only person who can access it is - “

"The one who holds the aura," came a voice behind him. 

Fushimi whirled around, only to be taken all at once by supernatural arms that thrust him by the shoulders to the ground. His limbs as well were bound by glowing chains that suddenly appeared — conjured by two Strains who stood on either side. The more he tried to squirm, the more tightly they would bind themselves around him.

Their task complete, his attackers stepped apart, leaving him to fidget in his place. Struggling uncomfortably, he peered up to encounter Rei Kiyoka propped inside the doorway, her features calm, her arms crossed lazily before her. 

For a moment there was silence. Neither one of them moved. How long has she been here? Fushimi wondered. And how much did she hear?

"You'd be right, you know," Kiyoka informed him, stepping into the room. "As it is, you cannot access the algorithm. No one can. No one except me." 

Fushimi cocked his head, sending out a look of pure annoyance. "What you're saying doesn't make sense. What about Kawaguchi Industries?”

"What about them?" 

"You know damn well what. You said you created the Kawaguchi Algorithm, and yet you also stole it from them? Why would you steal something you supposedly created?" 

Kiyoka tapped her fingers on her chin, humming at the ceiling. ”Is it technically stealing if you're just taking back what’s already yours?" Peering back at him, her emerald eyes took on a neon glow from that of the screens.

"Kawaguchi stole it from me. I simply stole it back,” she explained. "Or rather, I stole all of Kawaguchi Industries in addition to my algorithm. Girl needs payback every now and again. So I guess you can say, I am now Kawaguchi Industries.”

Fushimi scoffed at her. ”You?”

"What? You don't believe that I would use the very algorithm I created to commandeer the company that stole it from me, so becoming the head of my own organization?”

"A corrupt organization, I'm sure,” he mumbled under his breath.

"But you're not so sure, are you?” She said, her eyes fixated on him, glowing, searching, eerily calculated. “I can see it,” she went on. “Something in your eyes that tells me, even in its smallest form, that you believe me. But of course, it's only natural that one creator recognizes another, you being the one who built the Yuishiki System after all." 

Fushimi scowled, taken aback. "How did you – ?"

“Admit it. You believe that I would create something as outrageous as the Kawaguchi Algorithm because it's something you yourself would create. You have already created it, in your own way. So why is it so hard to believe that someone else could ever be like you?”  

Blinking wide, Fushimi stared at her. Like me? He thought, suddenly speculative.

“But if you insist on being stubborn, go ahead, look into it," Kiyoka offered. "Take a peek inside Kawaguchi Industries. Plug it into your prize, the Yuishiki System, and see what you find." 

Hold on, He thought. Clearly she’d have a lot to gain from holding me captive. So why is she telling me all this? “Are you saying you plan to me go?” He said aloud. “Again?” 

Kiyoka shrugged. “I thought I made it clear - “

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You can’t kill me because He wouldn’t like it. But just who is this ‘He,’ you’re referring to? Anyone I know?”

Just then a little glimmer flashed across her eyes; or perhaps it was the haze from all the screens. Either way, Fushimi caught it, and Kiyoka blinked away, almost self-consciously.

“So you let me go,” Fushimi said, ”And in the meantime, you just get to disappear, am I right? While you send me off on another wild goose chase, off you go scot free." He shook his head. “I don't think so. I'm going to find out what it is you’re planning, and when I do, I will stop you. You don't get to be the one left standing at the end of this.”

“And I suppose you believe that you deserve that right instead?" Kiyoka asked, recovering her playful attitude.

"No one deserves that right," he shot back. "Besides, simply being the one left standing doesn't necessarily mean that I've beaten you. You will have tried, failed, and lost, all on your own. And what do I get? Some pathetic sense of victory that doesn't mean shit. That's not winning. The rules of this world don't allow us the luxury of winning. That's why I change the rules. If I'm not the one left standing, it's because I will have made sure that you're the one to fall, even if it means tying a noose around both our necks. I'll take you down with me if I have to.”

Kiyoka clicked her tongue. ”What a stupid way to go." 

"For you, maybe. But not for me. Because unlike you, driven down against your will, I will have chosen for myself, a decision you will have failed to take away from me. As it happens, I will be the one who inevitably strips you of that right. That’s when I’ll know that I’ve won: when I’ve taken everything from you, even your ability to choose.”

At this, Kiyoka paused, nodding slowly. ”I see.” Eyeing a chair beside her, she reached her fingers out, fiddling the upholstery. “And are you so certain that I’ve not already made my choice? That I've not already found the path I wish to take down into hell, and that this isn't just my way of carrying it out?" 

Gradually, she turned to look at him, a darkness in her eye. 

“Perhaps this noose around my neck has already been tied, but it was I who tied it there; I who am now counting on you to let go of the other end, to give the final push. And for that, I can’t have you diving in head first before it’s time.”

”What are you saying?” Fushimi asked. “That you actually want me to kill you?" 

“Kill me?” She chuckled sharply. Then her tone fell flat. “If only it were that easy. No, what I’m saying is this: that if I can't rely on you, Saruhiko Fushimi, then what really is the point of you?” All at once her playfulness subsided, as though it were a mask, finally stripped away. Not even in her eyes did he detect a sense of cunning anymore. As it was, her bluntness, almost human in simplicity and earnestness, had thrown him off completely. 

“The hell?” He said in actual bewilderment. 

Kiyoka didn’t stop. “You know, it would be one thing if you were simply unreliable. But after what you just said — all that blind talk of taking me down with you — you're not even that, are you? You're worse. Because you still can't even bring yourself to figure out why you should be relied upon, and why it is you can’t be. You’re too busy obsessing over the wrong things to even notice the bigger picture.” She shook her head slowly. “Someone with that big of a propensity for oversight is nothing more than a waste of good intellect – not even useful enough to be used.” She made a turn for the door and paused, her voice weighed down, strained. “What a disappointment.” Then with a tired flick of her hand, signaling her men, she exited the room without another word.

Feeling oddly anxious, Fushimi opened his mouth to stop her. Her words, he found, had left a sinking feeling in his chest. Not that he quite figured what to say to make her stay, only that by letting her continue, to watch her walk away, out his sight, he’d somehow lose her further to the darkness, one that no one else could see nor venture through but her. Somehow, this unnerved him, and prompted him to call her back; yet as he did, the aura-chain that bound him rung itself more thoroughly around him, burning him as would a red-hot iron pressed against his skin. He let out an instant cry, mainly from surprise, and that’s when he heard it: the item he'd been waiting on: the metal disk he placed atop the computer drive let out its own alarm. 

Sudden action flooded into his face. With a rising grunt, he forced his limbs against the chains, unleashing both his auras in a two-fold blast that overwhelmed his captors, obliterating them, the chains, as well as half the computer room; more importantly, the evidence that he had seen regarding Aka Shinzu Technologies, information he was then certain Rei Kiyoka had no knowledge of. For once, he’d gained the upper hand.

Snatching up the disk, he ducked out through the newly blasted wall, only to discover a small army of aura-wielders in the presence of Rei Kiyoka, turned to witness the commotion.

For but an instant, their eyes met. Something of alarm — no; excitement, maybe? — carried in Rei Kiyoka’s gaze, and then she gave the order and her followers unleashed themselves. 

Fushimi held a lasting glance on Kiyoka, observing her, then drew his saber outward in a flourish of his power, and vanished into the darkness.

He could still hear the shouts of Kiyoka issuing her orders to pursue, even when he was certain of escape, and it was several more moments before the final hints of aura flashes dwindled away behind him.

At last, he gained the fresh clean air and early rays of dawn atop the surface, though feeling somewhat strange, empty, as though inside the darkness of the Underworld, where Rei Kiyoka lingered, a part of him belonged: where the fierceness of the light forever failed to penetrate.

Exhaustedly, he stared up at the sky, sensed a gust of wind and closed his eyes against it, letting out a long, unhindered sigh.

Reflecting on Rei Kiyoka’s words, everything about her, everything that happened, none of it made sense. She won’t kill me; she won’t take me hostage; she knows I’m powerful enough, and that those chains would never have held me had I really wanted to escape. She could have used her own aura to stop me, but she didn’t. She let me go. But she wanted me — no, she wanted them to think she did everything she could. 

Faced then with the unavoidable truth, he caved. She’s right, I’ve been obsessing over the wrong thing. There’s something more to it. I just can’t seem to see it yet. And that’s the thing: I do actually believe her, or rather, I believe that everything she’s telling me is just one piece of the puzzle - only half the truth. Before, I mistook that for lies, but now I get it. Only half a truth doesn’t necessarily make it a lie. It just means there’s more that needs to be told. And obviously she has a reason for not telling me, which makes her dangerous. I just have to figure out the rest of the puzzle. Only then will I be able to…

Again, he sighed, uncommonly troubled. 

Opening his eyes, staring at the yellow morning glow, he hailed the Captain on the comms. 

"I was wondering when I'd hear from you, Mr. Fushimi," the Captain answered. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Yes. No. Hell, I have no idea, he thought. Why does that question seem so hard to answer right now? Therefore, instead, he simply asked, “What do you know about an Aka Shinku Technologies, Captain?”

There was a slight pause. ”Very little, I'm afraid. Merely that it is an organization in name only, but that below the surface lies a collection of supernatural beings with, shall we say, questionable motives."

"You could just say 'terror organization,’ Captain."

"Very well, then. From what I’ve gathered, their primary focus lies in exercising supernatural dominance over those they deem as lesser or sub-standard.”

“Sub-standard? You mean regular humans?”

“Precisely. They believe supernatural beings should be at the forefront of society. Therefore, they employ certain criminal tactics centered on aggression so as to bring about fear, and ultimately submission to that same dominance they believe is owed to them. But why do you ask? What is their affiliation with this case?”

"I believe Rei Kiyoka is working with them. Somehow the algorithm's involved, too, but..." 

"But what?" 

“I’m not really sure. It could be just a feeling but…whatever it is she's planning, and whatever she’s about to do…I think she wants me to stop her.”

(Chapter III: Hakkā // Chapter V: Allegiance)

(K:Tales of Midnight is an Eso Niko Fan Fiction series based on the anime/manga series K, written by GoRa and produced by GoHands. All fan fiction works written by Eso Niko are categorized as ‘unofficial fan fiction,’ and are in no way affiliated to GoRa and GoHands.)

[mycatmoo]

The Great Escape (Oumota Weekend)

Oumota weekend

Villain vs Superhero

“So this is it. The final battle.” A voice said out of nowhere as Kaito, Maki, and Shuichi entered the final room of the villains lair.  

“Huh?” Kaito asks, looking around the dark room. He could barely see a foot in front of him, and he most certainly couldn’t see their enemy.

“Such a shame too. This is the most fun I’ve had in a loooong time.” The voice says with a dramatic sigh.

“Show yourself, Kokichi. We know its you.” Maki hisses.

“Maaan, still quite bitchy, huh, Maki Roll? Weell, if you INSIST. It is quite boring to have a conversation with people who cannot see me.” Kaito waited with baited breath to see the person the three of them has been chasing for a long time.

For some reason Kaito didn’t understand, he felt excited to see the smaller boy, but also anxious. Seeing him again would mean they would have to fight, and this fight would mean that they would never get to see him again. And something about the thought of never seeing Kokichi again made Kaito feel… hollow.

They waited a bit. Then a bit longer. Then a little bit longer. But still, he didn’t show up.

“Uh… where is he?” Shuichi asks, looking around. After that, they heard a “nishishi” come from behind them. Turning around, the three saw Kokichi in all his glory, wearing his cape and hat.

Immediately, Maki whipped out her gun, and pointing it at Kokichi.  

“Aah come on Maki Roll! Don’t be like that! After all, the villain is supposed to give a villainous monologue before the big fight! It would be no fun if you put a gun to my head beforehand!”

“So give that monologue so I can shoot you and get this done with.”

“Maaan. You always were a buzzkill. Definitely my least favorite out of your little band of heroes. By the way, where’s Kaede and Rantaro? Seems strange that you’d leave them out.”

“They stayed in case anything went wrong.” Shuichi explained.

“Well then wouldn’t it have made more sense to bring Kaede along instead of you? After all, if what you’re thinking does happen and I wind up defeating you, wouldn’t it make more sense to have “the heart” there to keep you all going instead of “the smart guy?”

“What are you going on about this time?” Kaito asks.

“Oh, you know. Just me being me. Just spouting out random nonsense that comes to my brain.”

“That has to be a lie. You never just “spout out random nonsense that comes to your brain.” Maki growls, eyes narrowing.

“Aaah man. Ya caught me. Yes, there was a point.” Kokichi says with faux disappointment, his smile still present on his face.

“So what were you talking about?” Kaito asks, putting his hand behind his head in confusion.

“If you beat me I’ll tell you! After all, I still haven’t given my villainous monologue!”

“So get to it.” Maki growls.

“Alright alright, you don’t have to rush me!

…

…

..

Oh would you look at the time, seems I gotta blast.” Kokichi says with a laugh.

‘What?”

“Well, as it turns out, I’m not actually the final boss! The boss has finally entered the room!” And with that, Kokichi runs to the door, throwing it open then slamming it shut. Kaito hears a click come from the door, and when Maki (after chasing after Kokichi) tried opening it, she found it locked.

“Its locked.” She simply says. Then, the three of them were pounded with a blinding light. It took a bit, but soon enough, Kaito adjusted to the light.

“Thaaaat’s right losers! The dude you were following all this time? He was just a ploy! I am the actual mastermind behind everything!” A voice announces. Turning to the front of front of the room, he could finally see the rest of the room. It was like a throne room, with massive windows, elaborately decorated, and a red carpet leading to massive throne. And sitting on the throne was a woman, about their age, with pinkish-blonde hair in two ponytails.

Kaito immediately recognized who it was. It was the woman who had helped them multiple times throughout this journey.

Junko Enoshima.

-

“Gotta get to the secret door, quickly.” Kokichi mutters, rushing around the floating airship that his “boss,” Junko, calls her villainous home.

He knew from the beginning that Junko was the big bad terrorizing the city. After the first bank robbery where the only thing left was a simple black and white bear hairpin, he knew it. And he knew he had to stop her.

He was one of her first “followers”, and got to the second highest rank rather quickly.

She didn’t have a clue about his plan to stop her.

As he ran through the passageway leading to the throne room, he could feel his heart rushing. His brain was working in overload. He could stop worrying that his plan would fail.

That any of those three would get hurt.

That Kaito would get hurt.

At the thought of Kaito getting hurt, he shoved the feeling into a box labeled “repression.”

It wouldn’t matter what his opinion of the “hero” was, he had more important things to worry about.

Soon, he got to the door. Grabbing a taser gun attached on his pants, hidden by his cape (he left his hat on the run here) he opened the door slowly. Looking around, he saw what he estimated would happen. Junko giving a monologue while holding Shuichi to her, holding a gun to his head. Kaito, with his sword drawn, was trying to talk her out of it, while Maki looked around for a solution.

Junko had her back to him. Good. He could work with this.

Walking out slowly, he sneaks closer to Junko, making sure he cannot hear his footsteps.

It was Kaito who saw him first. He looked about ready to say something to Kokichi, but Kokichi put his finger to his mouth in a “shh” way. As soon as he got close enough to Junko, he raised his taser, and shot her square in the back.

With a scream, Junko let go of Shuichi as she fell to her knees, shaking from the taser.

“Shuichi!” Kaito immediately exclaims, rushing over to the shaking boy and throwing his arm over his shoulder.

“Come on you three!” Kokichi immediately yells, rushing over to the secret door.

“Wait, what about Junko?!” Kaito immediately calls.  

“There is something MUCH more important to worry about right now!” Kokichi yells back, throwing open the secret door and turning around.

“And why should we trust you?” Maki asks with eyes narrowed.

“Just trust me. I’ll explain later.” And with that, Kokichi rushes through the door, not looking back to see if the three of them was following. With Junko out of commission for a little while, he could focus on the more threatening person to his plan. Monaca. His mind set, he rushes over to the control room of the ship.

Behind him, he could hear three sets of footsteps. So they WERE following him. Good. His plan was going swelly.

In fact, it was going too swell. Something about that didn’t sit right with Kokichi.

Soon enough, the group was at the control room. Putting his eye to the eye scanner, Kokichi opens the door. Peering inside, he didn’t see the little girl.

Good.

“Come in. I’ll explain.” Kokichi says, walking into the room. Letting the other three enter, he closed and locked the door.

“Why did you lock the door?” Maki asks, glaring at Kokichi.

“Relaaax. Its locked from the inside. Press the red button and you can leave.” Kokichi sighs dramatically, walking up to the computer. “Aaaanyway. As for the reason I stopped you from killing Junko and ending this here, well… It’s simple really.” Kokichi says, digging in his pocket for a flashdrive. Finding it, he sticks it into the computer, turning it on.

“If you DID kill her, it would initiate plan two of her Destroy the World plan.”

“What?!” Kaito exclaims.

“How would killing Junko be the start of a plan two?” Maki asks.

“All of her followers would be enraged… They would follow her plan to end the world if she died…”

“Ya. That’s why we have to defeat her without killing her.” Kokichi says, half paying attention. He had to take control of the ship and manage to pilot it to where DICE was hiding. From there, the police would swoop in and arrest everyone inside.

This plan would only work today. He fought tooth and nail to get all of the Remnants of Despair inside the ship today, and this was likely his one shot.

Only a few people knew of the secret door, and Junko would likely be able to narrow it down to him.

“Need help with that?” Kaito asks, surprising Kokichi slightly.

“Nishishi. I doubt YOU of all people would know what to do here!”

“Well it looks like you’re having some trouble with that.”

“Aaah. Does Kaito-chan CARE for me? The guy who was harassing you for how long?”

“Well it’s obvious that you are actually a good guy!”

“I prefer “anti-hero” y’know. Their more fun than just a boring old good guy. Just like you!”

“HEY!”

“Aaaand… Got it.” Kokichi mutters.

“Got what?” Shuichi asks.

“The wheel to this thing it based off your fingerprints. And it doesn’t recognize my fingerprints. I had to hack the system to reset the fingerprints. Sooo.. does any of you know how to drive an aircraft?”

“Wait, you don’t know? Isn’t all of this YOUR plan?” Maki asks.

“Uh yea. I know how to drive one of these things. But I just saved your asses. I think it’s time I get a break.”

“...Fine. I’ll do it.” Maki says with a sigh.

“Great! Put your fingers on that thing!” Kokichi announces, pointing to a small circle near the steering wheel. Putting her fingers on it, a robotic voice announces;

“Fingerprints detected. Allowing access to steer the ship.”

“Alright, where am I taking this thing?”

“Here.” Kokichi says, pulling up a map on the computer, inputting an area, and setting it to give directions.

“Alright. Lets go.” Maki sighs, grabbing the steering wheel, allowing the computer to give her directions on where to go.

-

When Kaito saw Kokichi sneaking up behind Junko, he felt his heart skip a beat. At first he felt anxious, scared that Kokichi was going to shoot one of them. But then he realized something when he pointed that gun at Junko.

He was on their side the entire time.

Suddenly, so much made sense. From the multiple encounters he had with Kokichi, he said many cryptic things. But now, seeing this, he realized their meaning.

He was alluding to his plan, and how he was going to betray Junko.

So, without another thought, he followed Kokichi.

Why did his heart skip a beat when he realized this?

And now, looking at the smaller boy sitting in the corner with his eyes closed, though not really sleeping, he saw him in a new light. And why is Kaito’s heart beating so fast?

“Uuh Kaito? Can you stop staring? Its kinda creeping me out.”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry.” Kaito says, quickly turning his head away.

“Neeheehee.” Kokichi says. Despite trying his best to make it not seem like he’s tired, Kaito could tell that he was. Scooting up to the smaller boy, he attempts to strike up a conversation.

“So, all this time, you were just playing Junko?”

“Yup!”

“And you were on our side the entire time?”

“Well I wouldn’t say I was on YOUR side. I was on MY side, which just happened to align with your side.”

“So about that conversation we were having before you ran off?”

“I told you. I’d tell you what I meant if you beat me, and you didn’t, sooo…”

“Ah come on, man!”

“What? You wanna fight? I still got my taser!”

“If either of you fight then I am turning this ship around.” Maki growls.

“Sorry Maki Roll.”

“Stop calling me Maki Roll.”

And the conversation started up again from there. Granted, Kokichi and Kaito DID get into an argument. Like pretty much every other encounter they’ve had. But whatever, it’s kind of expected at this point.

Eventually though, there was a knock at the door. Then another. Then a lot more.

“Huh. Guess she finally decided to show up.” Kokichi sighs, getting up and pulling out a small taser and a strange bomb. Walking over to a small trunk, he removes two strange hammers, handing them to Kaito.

“Who?” Shuichi asks.

“Monaca. She’s the technician of the group. She’s the person I was most concerned about.”

“What are these?” Kaito asks, looking strangely at the hammers.

“Electrohammers. Hit a touch, they can knock out any electronics. Monaca’s power comes from primarily from electronics, so these will be useful. And these.” Kaito says, holding up the bombs. “Are electrobombs. They block out electromagnetic waves.”

“Ah. So we’re going to have to fight robots?” Shuichi asks, grabbing a hammer.

“Most likely. Maki, don’t stop steering. No matter what.”

“I can’t promise anything.” Maki sighs.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” Kokichi says, holding up the taser, facing the door just as it opens. Just outside the door, Kaito could see a little girl with green hair.

“Huh? You technician, and the one you were most worried about, was a little girl?” Kaito asks incredulously.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover. I’m pretty fearsome.” Monaca says with her creepy smile. “You did so well, getting to this point. It took us a while to realize that you incapacitated Big Sis Junko and that you were here.”

“Nishishi. Glad you’re proud of me.” Kokichi says, putting his hand behind his head.

“Too bad that all that work was for nothing. You are a traitor, and I will not let you get in the way of Big Sis Junko’s plan.” And with that, 5 robots appeared behind Monaca. “Have fun.” Monaca says in a sing song voice, stepping behind the robots.

“Okay, the electrohammers will only be able to knock out one of exisals. There are 6 inside the trunk. I’m going to go for Monaca.” Kokichi whispers to the two boys. “Lets go.” And with that, the three of the charged.

Kaito immediately went for the exisal closest to him, a yellow one. They didn’t seem to expect this, and Kaito managed to get a clear hit on the exisal’s leg. With a sputter, the robot slumped to the ground. While he didn’t see it, Kaito felt Kokichi run past him, and past the exisal. Next to him, Kaito saw Shuichi knock out a pink one.

“Good job Shuichi! That’s my sidekick!” Kaito called with a thumbs up.

“Hey knuckleheads! Focus on the robots instead of your bromance!” Kokichi shouts, nearly dodging an arm of a red exisal swinging at him.

“Kokichi!” Kaito yells, running inside the control room. Throwing his used electrohammer, he grabs two more, Shuichi grabbing one, and runs back out. Charging at the red exisal harassing Kokichi, he swings at it, knocking that one out. He could hear Shuichi knocking out an exisal behind him. “You alright?”

“Yea, thanks.” Kokichi says without thinking, charging after Monaca, who ran away. Quickly taking out the last exisal, Kaito chases after Kokichi, throwing his two electrohammers in a random direction again.

“Stay with Maki! I’m going to help Kokichi!” Kaito yells to Shuichi as he runs. He didn’t wait for a response. Despite trying his best though, Kaito wasn’t able to keep up with Kokichi. Soon enough, he lost track of him.

Skidding to a stop, Kaito has only one thing to say. “Shit.”

Without another thought, Kaito starts running again, this time following his gut. And it seemed like his gut was right, as he soon heard a loud bang and a scream.

“Kokichi!” Kaito yells, running to where he heard the scream. Quickly, he throws the door open, and sees a simple room. Kokichi was kneeling, holding an area in his stomach, with Monaca standing over him, a gun in her hand.

Without another thought, Kaito rushes Monaca, pulling the gun out of her hand, and shoving her away from Kokichi.

“Stay away from him, you brat!” Kaito yells, standing in between the two of them.

“Kaito…” Kokichi says weakly, before Kaito heard a small thud from behind him.

“Kokichi!”

“You’re too late. Kokichi is going to die.” Monaca says cheerfully.

“Fuck you!”

“That’s a harsh thing to say to a kid.”

“I don’t care! Just come here, you brat!” Kaito yells, rushing at Monaca again, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

“Let go of me!” Monaca cries, kicking and screaming. Not affected by the weak kicks and punches from the 8-something or other year old, Kaito gently picks up a knocked out Kokichi, rushing back to the control room.

“Shuichi! Help me!” He says as soon as he gets there. Upon seeing the heavily bleeding Kokichi, Shuichi gets to work, attempting to slow the bleeding. Kaito puts the still screaming Monaca in the corner, blocking the doorway.

From there, Kaito was mostly in a daze. Before he knew it, the ship landed and police rushed inside. They put Kokichi in an ambulance, and he was rushed to the nearest hospital. And before he knew it, Kaito was passed out at the side of Kokichi’s bed, head resting on the side of his bed.

-

“Ngh..” Kokichi groans tiredly. He couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t see anything. And he was too tired to process anything. It felt like forever where he laid there, nothing happened, before he slowly opened his eyes. It was blurry at first. Okay, for a while. But soon enough, he got his vision back. He got his senses back. And he could finally feel stuff. He felt something in his arm. He felt warmth from the blanket. Soon enough, Kokichi realized he was in a hospital.

It took him a bit, but soon he remembered what sent him into the hospital in the first place.

“Kaito…” Kokichi whispers, too tired to be any louder. His voice was cracky, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time. Which was likely.

...How did he survive?

Managing to look around, he saw Kaito, sitting on the side of his bed, head on said bed, sleeping. He looked so peaceful.

Kokichi could feel his heart flutter. And this time, he was too tired to bury it. His box labeled “repression” burst open. Kokichi couldn’t help himself after that. Despite being tired, he slowly and shakily raised a hand to Kaito’s face with a tired smile.

When Kaito stirred slightly from the touch, Kokichi’s hand gave out. He started drifting off to sleep again. But Kokichi had one last thought before sleep consumed him again.

That he loved Kaito, and since Kaito was the one worriedly by his side when he was hurt, he likely did as well.

[bubbleshowerlalalala]

Longing (Byun Baekhyun)

Disclaimer: I do not own the attached picture, and please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Warning: Small mentions of alcoholism.

Pairing: Mafia!baekhyun x Surgeon!reader

Genre: Mafia au. Angst, fluff and slight smut.

Word count: 4.5K

Summary: Things with your boyfriend went askew, wanting nothing more than to see him again he came back to you in a state you dreaded more than anything.

Another day has passed without hearing from him, and with the way you both parted you couldn't help but think of the worst. After all, its been around seven months since you last saw him. The air seemed to be tight around the headquarters these days, but you couldn't show any signs of weakness as you are a very vital member in the organization.

You had just finished stitching up two members that had 'just a brothers brawl' which ended up with a broken nose and some bruises. Sometimes you think they all just liked getting bruised and scarred.

Yeri, your sweet apprentice, seemed to notice your gloom even though you didn't tell her anything, told you that she was going to hold a picnic in the west garden today since Joy and Seulgi returned from a mission recently. You dressed yourself in a plaid summer dress, you thought that wearing a cute attire might lift your spirits or keep your mind off of Baekhyun for a moment. Irene and Wendy were also joining as there weren't any threats on the system and Luna told them it was okay to take the day off.

"Come on lets go, the snacks and drinks are already there. Plus I got you you're favorite iced tea!" Yeri chirped as she linked arms with you on your way out to the garden. You chuckled and held onto her arm "You're the cutest, do you know that?" Yeri is like the little sister you never had.

Soon Irene, Joy, Seulgi and Wendy joined you together at the garden and honestly what you might have needed all this time was spending time with your friends like this. Just as Joy was telling you about what happened at the club during their mission, familiar black vans and cars started pulling up the gates of the west garden, and people you recognized started running out of the cars to help the injured get into the base. In the midst of all the yelling and running, your breathe hitched in your throat and you felt your heart drop to your stomach as you saw the one thing you dreaded most.

Baekhyun knocked out cold and drenched in blood.

The sight of his injured body drenched in blood, in the arms of a running panicked Chanyeol was going to be engraved into your mind forever. Suho came in after them yelling, "Get [Y/N]! We need her right now!" His white shirt was tainted in blood, and scattered bruises painted his face but that didn't seem to stop him from running right after Chanyeol.

The sound of your name being yelled broke you and of your trance, and you took Yeri's hand and started running into the building to the medical wing without saying anything. You had to focus on one thing right now and it was saving Baekhyun's life. The medical wing was the nearest building to the west garden gates, that's why Suho must have chosen to get the vehicles pulled over out here. There must be a significant number of injuries.

"Yeri can you take care of Suho and the others?" You asked her as you reached the medial wing and started to disinfect to get ready for Baekhyun's surgery. "Yes but you need help with Baekhyun" she insisted as she tied up her hair and started disinfecting the tools.

Sunny and Winwin came in from the entrance pushing Baekhyun on the wheeled stretcher, with Chanyeol and Suho right behind them. Krystal, Doyoung and Jeno started mending the mildly and conscious injured members along with Yeri. As Winwin pushed Baekhyun into the operations room, Suho approached you but before he could say anything you turned away.

"[Y/N]-" Suho called after you but you just went in the operations room. "Now is not the time Suho, go get treated now." Sunny told him before going into the room too. It took both Yeri and Jeno to usher Suho on one of the beds to get treated, Chanyeol just quietly followed after, but kept looking at the operations room's door. The light switched on red to indicate the operation was in session, and even though the members were in pain and the healers were treating them they were all praying for Baekhyun's recovery.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

Baekhyun woke up in the recovery room, it was really bright for his eyes as he felt super groggy but could see that there was no one else in the room but him. He felt disheartened that he didn't find you by his side when he woke up like always, but that did seem farfetched with how things were left between you. He missed you so much and he just wanted to apologise and hold you in his arms and never let go. But there was this voice that tells him that maybe you wouldn't forgive him, or that maybe you had moved on.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Sunny came into the recovery room and broke his train of dark thoughts. "Never better," he smiled but instantly regretted that as the stiches across his cheekbone burned. Sunny had a lot to say to Baekhyun but chose to stay quiet only because he's very frail and honestly, looked so sad right now. While Sunny was checking his vitals and putting in a new iv bag for him, Baekhyun broke the silence. "Where's [Y/N]?"

"Baekhyun if she wanted to talk to you, she would've stayed by your side like always." That statement stung Baekhyun's heart, he just wanted to make things right again. "I didn't want to bring it up, but [Y/N] has been so quiet since you left, she's been drinking stronger than usual too. And today after your surgery she immediately left to her room and locked herself there, just so she wouldn't breakdown in front of us."

Baekhyun looked down and sighed. "Thank you, Sunny. I'm sorry." Sunny softly smiled and gently cupped the side of his face, "It's not me who you're supposed to apologize to, Baekhyun." she said as she got up and left him alone in the recovery room.

Baekhyun leaned back and closed his eyes, he knew that the love of his life was hurting all this time and he couldn't stop her pain. What he did was wrong yes, but he didn't think the mission would take seven months. What he had in mind was a short mission, then he would come back, beg for your forgiveness and kiss you, and hopefully you would kiss him back.

But unfortunately that Baekhyun type of thought process was far from reality.

His right hand was connected to the IV, and his left was broken at the wrist plus he was sure there were bullet wounds or broken ribs to explain the chest pains he was feeling. But that wasn't going to stop him from looking for you. Gripping the IV pole for support he got his legs, leg by leg, out of the bed. He soon got into a sitting position and took a deep breathe as slowly as he could to minimize his pain. Baekhyun knew to stand up as slowly as he could so he wouldn't pass out. As he managed to stand up and go for the door, he started his way to your room and hoped your door would be unlocked as he just wanted to collapse on any bed.

Just as Baekhyun left the recovery room, he felt the strength fade from his legs. He saw Jeno on the end of the corridor, it was like an angel was sent to save him.

"Hey! Jeno! I need your help." Baekhyun almost cried out as he saw his guardian angel. His right arm was aching from supporting his body. "Baekhyun what are you doing you're supposed to be in bed!" Jeno exclaimed and opened one of the wheelchairs folded at the side. "I'm strapping you to the bed,"

"No! I have to see [Y/N], you have to take me there" he said almost too quickly as Jeno made him sit down. "Please." He added as Jeno started pushing him towards the recovery room. With that plead Jeno stopped pushing the wheel chair. "If I take you to [Y/N], will you promise that you guys are going to make up?" He asked. Baekhyun felt a little embarrassed that almost everyone in the organization, even the younger members, has news about what happened between him and [Y/N].

"Yes, I want to go and apologize to [Y/N]." Baekhyun told him seriously. With that Jeno gave him a smile that could melt ice and purify the world from pollution, and started heading out of the medical floor and to [Y/N]'s room.

Her room was surprisingly unlocked and empty, there wasn't any noise coming from her bathroom too. Jeno pushed Baekhyun inside, "Do you need anything else, Baekhyun?" He asked before leaving. "Jeno, I seriously owe you a favor. Just tell me anything you want and its yours." Baekhyun sincerely told Jeno as he slowly got off the chair while holding the IV pole for support to get on the bed. "Get well soon, Baekhyun." Jeno chuckled as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Heart pounding in his ears, Baekhyun lied down with a groan, his head started pounding and he needed some aspirin. He roamed his eyes across the room looking for some, he did find some aspirin on her desk table, along with empty bottles of bourbon beside it.

"Fucking hell.." he sighed with a swore, he didn't really want to get up for the aspirin as he felt his eyelids get heavier. 'I'll just stay here until she comes' he thought as he lost consciousness.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

The air was tense as the older generation and high rank members of the organization gathered at the meeting table. An attack to the headquarters happened a few days ago from a rising and much smaller organization. There were fatal injuries and property destruction as it was a surprise and strategically planned attack. Most of the skilled fighters were out of the headquarters on that godforsaken day, which lead to the number of injured memebers and plant damages the organization currently suffers.

Suho was furious as he felt responsible, even though there were older members around like Leeteuk and his group. But as he was the heir to the organization, he took full responsibility. He called out an emergency meeting to all the council members from all of the branches around the region.

"They really thought they could attack us like this, on our property? Our headquarters?" Key scoffed.

Your role and rank were both high in the organization, you were one of the few surgeons in the entire organization and Suho's parents were your godparents. Your real parents passed away in an accident when you were young, and were from the older generation of this organization. Suho's parents were your godparents since you were born and took it upon themselves to treat you as their own daughter since they owe your parents their lives.

"We have to fight back. This is our territory and they thought they could take us on. To attack us when our main base was empty is cowardly and foolish. And now, they will pay." Amber declared from beside you.

Some members opposed some agreed, but they all started arguing and you stopped listening as you were thinking about checking on Baekhyun as soon as this meeting finished.

Baekhyun was one of the few fighters left to protect the headquarters from the surprise attack. He and the few other members did manage to secure the base and beat the attacking gang, but not without suffering fatal injuries. Thankfully his injuries weren't life threatening but he need a long while to recover. You just wanted to go back and check his vitals again even though you just did before coming to the council meeting.

"We are going to attack them in two weeks, they wouldn't see it coming but we need participation from all of the groups." Suho looked over Leeteuk, Key, Amber, Yunho, Hyoyeong and Taeyong.

Everyone was in favor of fighting back and you were about to raise your hand in favor too but what he said next stopped you, "Of course, all members of my group are needed with us."

"Excluding Baekhyun." You said more of a statement than a question. Suho gave you a hard look, he knew this wasn't going to be easy. You stared back at him, unwavering, and felt everyone's eyes on you two.

"I need him, [Y/N]." He said shortly, clearly he didn't want to argue with you not when he has to think of an ambush plan and sort out all of the preparations. What you were asking for wasn't unreasonable, Baekhyun was still on bed rest, he suffered many injuries including a bullet wound to his shoulder which ruptured his tendons. You needed to be there for his rehabilitating exercises and even if he didn't have fatal injuries, taking him to fight in a couple of weeks is basically murdering him.

Everyone else had left the room after sensing the tension between you and Suho. They thought preparing for their upcoming battle would be better than sticking around the council room to watch you guys fight.

"Have you seen the state of him, Suho? He'll die." You found it hard to control your breathing and walked over to where Suho was standing. "[Y/N] he's one of the best fighters in this entire organization, he has to be there." Suho spoke to you in a low voice, but you could tell he was nowhere near calm.

"He can't move his shoulder, Suho."

"Lay will be there to help him out."

You couldn't believe how stubborn he was being right now, "You know how he is, how he throws himself on the line he'll die if he fights this fight!" You're voice was raising with each word. And you were pretty sure anyone outside the room would be able to hear. "You feel responsible and guilty for what happened and I know you want to fix things, but this is insane Suho!"

"He needs to be with us!" Suho slammed his hand on the table. The sound slapped through the entire room. "God dammit, [Y/N]!" He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked away from you, if there is anything Suho hates, its fighting with you.

You stepped back and tried to even your breathing, you needed to think rationally in all of this insanity. "You won't touch him before he's healed." You turned around and left the room.

Days had passed since the meeting, and Baekhyun was well enough to leave the medical wing to stay in his room. He still couldn't do basic routines without any help as his shoulder still needed a lot of care. He still joked around with everyone else, but you knew he was frantic deep down as he wanted to prepare for the upcoming battle alongside of his group members. Suho came into Baekhyun's room later that day to get into the bottom of things. "Have you told [Y/N] that you're leaving with us?"

Baekhyun was in fact going with everyone else, when he had told you that he'll stay with you until his shoulder got better. He knew it was a douche thing to do, lying to you, but he just couldn't stay in the headquarters when everyone else is going to battle. And he thought, by the time his shoulder healed, the battle may be won without him taking part in it. And that seemed to be the worst case scenario for him even if it had meant lying to you.

"No."

"Are you serious? Baekhyun you should tell her the truth, you can't just leave her without-"

"She'll understand." Baekhyun cut him off. He was sure you'll understand, you were all mafia after all.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

You walked into your room and saw Baekhyun sleeping on your bed. You had a feeling something like this might happen as you weren't the first thing he saw when he woke up. Seeing him lying on your bed like this reminded you of the last day you saw him. He promised he would stay, but you woke up to an empty bed. You were so disappointed that he lied to you, thinking that your relationship was transparent and mature for something like that.

You wanted to kick him out of your room but his current state just broke your heart. Sitting on the side of your bed you checked his vitals, and noticed that the IV bag was empty.

Baekhyun woke up and his breathe was caught in his throat as he saw you removing the IV cord from his hand. You're as beautiful as he remembers, and you still smelled like heaven to him. He still remembers how his heart raced like a school boy whenever you passed by him and the smell of your perfume would make him think about you for days.

You still treated him like he was made of glass like always. "I missed you." He said in a raspy voice and held onto your hand. "You weren't in the recovery room when I woke up." He pouted and brought your hand to his lips. You gently took your hand back, "You were supposed to stay in the recovery room, Baekhyun." How he missed hearing his name coming out of your mouth, you couldn't imagine.

Seeing you stand up made him panic, "Wait! Don't go!" he croaked. "I know we need to talk but can't we put that on hold for a second?" He pleaded. Watching him plead in his injured state just wrenched your heart, you were just so thankful he was alive. "I was just getting the ointment," you softly told him and sat down again on the side of your bed. Gently dabbing the anti-biotic on the stitched wounds that went over his left cheekbone and the bridge of his nose. His face was really colored with bruises too.

You felt your eyes watering the more you looked at his injuries. You could barely stop the internal bleeding when he came in, if he was any moment late you wouldn't have been able to save him. "Don't cry [Y/N], I'm fine." He lifted his hand to stroke your cheek. "You saved me like you always do." He looked into your eyes. Your tongue wet your lips and you swallowed as you held onto your tears. You gently pushed his hair back out of his face, and Baekhyun closed his eyes and nuzzled into your palm.

"Please lie with me," he said with eyes closed. You were so mad at him and wanted to punch him so bad, but right now you were so grateful he was breathing in front of you. Sighing, you gently lied down next to him, and he slowly tried to put his head on your chest but you stopped him. "You have to lie on your back." You took him by his shoulders and put him back on the pile of pillows you made for him.

"But I want you to hold me," he whined a tad too loudly for an injured person. He had always been a difficult patient, but you always put up with him. You complied, and lied onto your side, facing him so he wouldn't whine anymore.

"Your hair got longer," he looked at you.

"I'm still mad at you." You stated bluntly even though you obliged to his every need. "You lied to my face, Baekhyun." Your heart ached looking at his busted form, but you still remember how it hurt to be lied to by the person you love the most. Baekhyun tried getting on his side, as much as he could, "What I did was really shitty, I'm the worst boyfriend ever [Y/N], I know, I wish I was more considerate and brave," he took a shaky breathe and held your arm, resting it over his waist. "I was really scared. I'm really sorry [Y/N]."

What you didn't know was that since you both parted, Baekhyun regretted not being open with you and telling you everything he was feeling and thinking. The amount of regret was compiling each day, and he was about to compromise their location multiple times by trying to send you apology letters. Only wishful thinking of you kissing him as soon as he came back is what kept him going. He held onto your arm and you knew he was trying to stay awake but drowsiness got the best of him. You thought about leaving but you stayed and held him as he slept.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

If you had a penny for every time you took a bullet out of your friends' bodies, you'd have enough to get your own private island. You jotted down another glass of bourbon and rested your head in your hands. The bar was empty, which was a perfect time for you to wallow in your self pity. You knew being a doctor was hard, but being your friends' private doctor and constantly seeing them in critical condition was the absolute worst.

Your late parents' only condition to comply to your wish of studying medicine was if you become the organization's private surgeon. It would be safer than working in a hospital, they insisted. They sure didn't know the mental toll that came with it. And you just couldn't help but think of the day when you wouldn't be able to save someone's life.

What would you do then? How would it feel to hold their lifeless form?

"Drinking hard tonight?" A playful voice that you very much knew broke you out of your darkest thoughts. Baekhyun sat on the stool next to you. He had just kissed you and told you that he 'really really liked you' for the first time yesterday, and even though he seemed confident, his palms were clammy on your waist. You've always thought that Baekhyun was very cute, and your heart swelled with so much happiness when he told you that he liked you too.

"Yea I couldn't sleep," you hummed.

"Well you should've come to my room," He winked and took the half full glass out of your hand. He always thought it was cute with how you gave little hints that you liked him better than the other members. Like how you gave them all plain band-aids but only gave him the band-aid with characters.

Perching his elbow on the bar, he put his warm hand on your cheek, "A frown doesn't suit your face, babe" he said tenderly. Whenever you found yourself drowning in darkness, Baekhyun always came in and brought the light to you. He got off his stool, "Come on, I'll make you tea and then we'll cuddle,"

Baekhyun helped you off the stool but you stumbled and put your arms around his neck. He swallowed as you pressed your chest against his and looked at him with half lidded eyes. You figured that you should make the most out of every moment you have as they might be the last moments you share.

"Baekhyun," your lips hovered over his, you smiled and pressed your lips onto his. You kissed his lips slowly, wanting to savor this moment forever. But Baekhyun groaned as he found it hard to take it slow and pulled you closer, if that was possible, by your waist; his strong grip caused you to gasp and that gave him an opening to dominate the kiss with his tongue. You broke the kiss with a huff, and he began kissing the side of your face until he reached a spot under your jaw and started sucking. You let out a shaky breathe as he sucked harder and his hands traveled south, gripping your ass to tease you more. He released your neck with an audible pop, and licked the tortured spot teasingly one last time.

Gripping his ruffled hair, you pulled him back to your face to kiss him again. Kissing you back strongly, he surprised you by lifting you in his arms. As you let out a surprised gasp, he giggled and nuzzled your forehead. Putting you down on one of the back sofas, he put himself between your legs, making sure one of his knees were so close to your core. Looking at you under him, lips swollen and breathless, you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He was truly the happiest when he was with you.

"I love you, [Y/N]." He smiled before kissing you again.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

The next few days were peaceful. Baekhyun for once didn't make things difficult for you or anyone working at the infirmary. He was so happy to have you back, he didn't want to step on your toes or upset you anymore. Afterall, he thought you would've dumped his ass. He also promised you to be completely open with you about everything, you knew that it would take time but appreciated him challenging himself like that.

Suho came in a few days ago to clear the air between you two, he brought a bouqet of lavender Hyacinths, apology flowers he called them. Of course, Suho had always been so dramatic with everything, growing up with him has been so eventful. There wasn't really anything to clear except that he knew Baekhyun lied and kept quiet. You also wished he would listen to you more and not make headstrong decisions.

You knew Suho never meant to hurt you in any way, and you had to understand that being in his position at a considerably young age is pretty tough. But happily, he told you that they 'showed the other gang who's boss' and you pretty much knew what that meant.

Baekhyun knocked at your office door even though it was open, he entered and sat on Yeri's wheeled stool and wheeled himself to your chair. "We're taking off the stitches today right?" He asked hopefully.

You smiled and rolled your eyes, day after day he whined about the stitches ruining his pretty face. "You know, I kinda like them on you," you mused as you put on your gloves and started to disinfect the scissors and tweezers. He pouted his lips and hummed as he took a close look at your desk mirror, "Huh. Maybe it makes me look tougher," he wondered. You wheeled him back to your chair by your leg, "Baby, you could never look tough your face is just too cute," you stated matter of factly, cutting the thread that sewed up his skin together.

"Yea my cute face makes you scream my name at night- AH!" He yelped as you purposefully pulled the thread quickly. "Sorry, I didn't catch that." You told him innocently.

"Ah, [Y/N]!" He whined loudly as you laughed. Honestly its been a while since you had a good and genuine laugh. Baekhyun smiled as he watched you laughing, the most beautiful sight, he thought. He rested his unbroken hand on your waist, "[Y/N], do you forgive me?" He asked seriously as he looked into your mesmerizing eyes.

You knew he learned from his mistakes as his lie had a big toll on both of you. You know that people make mistakes and learn from them to grow and become better people, and Baekhyun seemed to learn his lesson this time. Not to mention, you just loved this boy to death and couldn't bare to part with him.

"Yea,"

As soon as you replied he started attacking your face with kisses while saying I love you multiple times. He stopped as he reached your lips and lingered them over yours, as if asking for permission. You cupped his face with your gloved hands and pulled him to your lips, kissing him for the first time since he left.

You knew the days coming on weren't going to be all sunshine and rainbows, but your boy is enough sunshine and rainbows to your life.

[idolizerp]

LOADING INFORMATION ON R!OT’S MAIN RAP, VOCAL LEE JIMIN…

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: N/A CURRENT AGE: 20 DEBUT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: 99 Ent. ETC: this member participated on UPRS and came in second prior to debut

IDOL IMAGE

with her mature features and sharp eyes paired with that deep voice and intense rap, jimin embodies the “cool girl” aesthetic. her personality is blunt yet rough around the edges, her anger and attitude often coming close to crossing the line into “unacceptable” territory. she’s far from tame and most would think that no company would want to take the risk of debuting her just yet, however, she was added to the r!ot lineup anyway and made it into the group with her list of flaws still a mile long. though, they knew exactly how to play it just right. jimin is not a “typical” idol, but then again that’s exactly what 99 is going for with r!ot—a group of girls meant to be just catchy enough to draw you in and just intimidating enough to make you keep your distance. her aggressive and loud stance is exactly what the group needs to stand out she bring their concept home.

her confidence paired with the skills she spent years cultivating makes her worth the risk, especially with the heavy criticism of idol rappers growing each new generation. however, her own attitude towards them is what holds her back. she never wanted to be an idol, hated idols even, and it shows in her performance. the occasional lazy movements, lip syncing instead of singing live with the rest of the group, slacking off on practice. she’s far from enthusiastic about her position as a member of the group, doing the bare minimum to keep her spot and avoid confrontation from the members. when the cameras are on her, she can do what she has to get by, but when the others are trying their hardest to stand out with so many groups debuting every day, she’s doing her best to fade into the background.

that doesn’t stop 99 from pushing her as an mc and on variety shows. her blunt attitude and quick wit make her easy to crack jokes with and keep banter going, her harsh nature coming off more as a dog that’s more bark than bite when combined with the typical wacky editing. she’s a tool to get her group out there, no matter how much she dislikes it. she feels it undermines her as a rapper and a musical artist to be paraded around like a show pony and make everyone like her. she should be loved for her music and music only, not her visuals or anything else irrelevant. while she can’t exactly take back the contract she signed, she can stage her own form of protest in being as bare minimum as possible.

IDOL HISTORY

Early Life

from the moment she was born, jimin was put at a disadvantage. coming from a single mother family with two children and being from a small time, their family was always the topic of whispers and rumors. her mother never finished school, meaning the only jobs she could get were those at a store, cafe or hair salon—never making enough money to care for her and her older brother. options were limited with her mother having little family willing to take on two kids with no guarantee she’d ever come get them, and ultimately her mother decided to give the two of them up by the time she was 4 and he was 6, sending them off to live with their grandmother.

needless to say jimin and jungmin, her brother, were as thick as thieves. they were unable to be separated even before they went into the system together. despite the closeness in age, jungmin did his best to take the role of parent with how often their mother spent out working or with “friends”, and even more so when they felt they had no one else they could depend on. and jimin did what she could to keep him safe, despite being younger. whether it be fighting on his behalf whenever he would be picked on by the other children, or waiting for him when he got back from school so they could walk hand in hand home.

their dependence on each other was a crutch and a weakness. they could hardly go the school day without one another and it only got worse as they grew older.

II. Adolescence

jimin has odd hobbies for someone her age. most kids frown at the idea of writing and willingly spending extra time in school, but it was what she enjoyed. particularly, spending hours on end writing stories or poems in her little notebook her brother got her with the little pocket money he had. it was something she was always drawn to, from when she was younger and writing diary entries to school age when she would always get the highest rank in the subject. combined with her odd childhood fascination with spiders and various other creepy crawlers and her bad attitude, she was naturally seen as a bit strange. she was never a people person—coming from her relying solely on her brother and her fear of abandonment coming from her relationship, or lack of, with his mother—but jungmin was instantly popular.

where jimin was awkward and aggressive, jungmin was kind and gentle. where jungmin was bright and energetic, jimin was gloomy and sluggish. polar opposites despite spending nearly every waking moment together for years. there came a time when they began to stray away from one another, more so on jungmin’s part. when they were younger, there was no problem with letting the rude little sister tag along with her older brother’s friends, but it became increasingly awkward and weird. eventually he began telling her excuse after excuse, lie after lie, to keep her home and away from him. he loved his sister, he did, but he wanted to be his own person. jimin couldn’t seem to understand that.

as the gap between them grew, so did her tendency to isolate herself. she focused solely on her studies, her writing. she didn’t have many people who could put up with her snapping at them, and thus didn’t have any real friends close enough to reach out to her. she was alone. and that was when she found music.

III. Discovery of Music

when she found music, she felt like she finally found herself. while jimin loved writing, she always felt something was missing. her teachers suggested an extra curricular or something to do instead of spending all her free time alone. the standard kpop groups she would see her classmates play or she’d overheard her brother talk about never interested her, and as she further explored music she found she had a strong dislike toward them and the treatment of music on their part. they didn’t appreciate the real art of it all, they didn’t understand what that music could really mean to someone. it was annoying in a way she couldn’t put into words.

that was what helped her discover the rap scene. living in hongdae, it was hard to really miss the huge hip-hop scene there, but it never occurred to her that she of all people could be a part of it. to say she was immediately good would be a lie. jimin started out participating in freestyle events and becoming more and more fascinated with the world. her craft was rusty, but she eventually managed to make a name for herself and felt like she fit with the people around her. it was real, the words truly meant something to them. it wasn’t like the music she heard her classmates gush about—it was raw and made her feel like part of a real movement. she loved it.

jimin didn’t start really rapping seriously until she was 15, attending proper competitions and turning her poems into raps and her stories into songs. it was like she was reborn as someone with confidence to be herself, her own person, regardless of the flaws and whether people liked her or not. she could let out all her pain and struggles, or everything that made her smile. it was an amazing feeling.

though she was young, she earned a decent amount of respect for her skills and ability to hold her own among older rappers. she was far from amazing, sure, but for her age she had a very solid foundation. that was probably what led to her being scouted. hongdae was known for the hip hop scene and the people within it, so it wasn’t strange for scouts for 99 to hang around the known populated areas for talent. jimin wasn’t the first or only choice, but she was recognized as someone who had potential and was called for an audition.

she initially decided to not go. it wasn’t her thing—she wasn’t idol material nor was the lifestyle what she wanted. but she was still young and immature and the scouts were very sweet talkers, and so she agreed to go. in heavy contrast to herself, her brother was excited to hear it. he followed all kinds of groups, especially girl groups, and the idea that his sister had the opportunity to work alongside them was almost too good to be true. and it was, because though she passed the audition, the moment she became a trainee was the moment she discarded it all.

IV. Trainee & Idol Life

needless to say jimin was unhappy as a trainee. the promises they told her and the lies they sold her to get their there were quickly thrown out the second she signed her name, leaving only anger and disappointment. the only reason she remained even after her hopes were crushed was because she couldn’t bring herself to let down the little family she had, who were so excited at the idea of seeing their little girl on the big screens in front of the whole country. she couldn’t bring herself to let them of all people down.

despite her reluctance, she wasn’t bad at it. rapping was naturally her strong suite, but dancing and singing weren’t particularly difficult for her. she was a natural, some praised her. it made her sick. jimin was completely at the mercy of the company and trainers, singing how they told her, dancing how they told her, rapping what they told her. it went against everything she knew and she hated it. there wasn’t much she could do, however. the longer she stayed, the deeper in debt she grew, and there was no way her family had the money to pay for any of it. her only option was to debut, and no matter how much she looked down on the others or how much she hated the idea, she worked toward it harder than anyone.

when she got the offer to be sent to a competition show while still as a trainee, she naturally hesitated. the competition among trainees was already more than she bargained for after all. but the possibility that she’d get to rap what she wanted, how she wanted, was just too much to give up.

when she was a contestant on unpretty rapstar, it was like a whole new world, but somehow the same one she’d left. she’d never tried “dissing”, not really, after all she was young and no one would truly try to take her down hard before. but that wasn’t like then. no one would go easy on there and she had to deliver the show people wanted to see. her cocky attitude and aggressive nature came in handy in a way it hadn’t before—she was exactly what people wanted to see when they turned the television on. she was all confidence and power, even if she lost or was less perfect on her rhymes. she held the attitude of a winner and when you have that, it doesn’t matter where you place. however, lucky for her, she managed to come out second and helped 99 solidify their plans for her.

with the hype surrounding her from the show, it wasn’t hard to figure out that she would be one of the girls debuting next. it was both a blessing and a curse for someone like jimin, but there wasn’t much that was within her power. when she was announced as r!it’s main rapper, she didn’t celebrate like the other members chosen. it was like one weight in her shoulders was exchanged for an even heavier one and it only got worse as the debut day grew closer. the only saving grace was her being allowed to have a hand in a track, allowing some ounce of actual jimin to be poured into the music she wanted to hate.

even while promoting as a member of a rookie group, jimin never changed who she was. she never forced a smile, never faked a giggle to seem more likeable. sure it made some variety appearances awkward, the hosts and members trying their hardest to joke her blank face off but she stayed true to who she was. lucky for her, it went hand in hand with the way the public viewed her based on her uprs appearance—confident, unshakeable, and powerful. somehow, her disinterest only propelled her forward, landing her a job as an MC of all things. if given the choice, jimin would happily hand the job over to another member, but the excited calls from her brother and grandmother after seeing her on television made it hard to hate. after all, it was the only thing that could get her to smile and act energetic with her co-MCs and that frown could only get her so far.

[ratretro]

Title: Obstacles

Pairing: NaLu

Prompt: NaLu Angst Week 2018 - Obstacles

Rating: M; Ages 18+!

None of these characters are owned by me, they are all owned by the wonderful Hiro Mashima!

A/N:

I hope this came out well because I wanted to make it kind of fun and kind of awful

But the good kind of awful

Idk my angst game is weak rn im sorry tbh

Of course it happens right as angst week writing begins lmao heres an arranged marriage au for you all

also I won’t be doing tomorrows prompt unless i have time to complete it ive got some stuff to work out

FF.net

           The male beside her had eyes the shade of the night sky on the new moon; cold and empty. His hand was resting comfortably on her hip, but she’d felt his fingers twitch each time she walked by. The she Lucy was referring to was not herself, but a smaller girl on the other side of the room. The girl with the flowing, soft blonde hair that fell in waves with ribbons adorning both sides of her head in perfect symmetry. Her gown was a shade of pink that reminded Lucy distinctly of cherry blossoms, and though it was elegant she could tell the fabric was lightweight and the design specifically made to appear as though it matched the overall feel of the party. This made sense considering Mavis was cunning, and tactful. She needed to be quick on the floor, but she also needed to blend in. She was her father’s advisor, and an outstanding one if this party wasn’t a testament to her hard work.

             The manor they lived in was all shimmering gold, and sparkling wine. The chandeliers were perfectly lit, and every bulb had been replaced in light of tonight’s event. Once again, her husband’s hand twitched as the sprite of a girl passed. Lucy didn’t much care on the transgressions of her husband. They’d made an agreement after all. That didn’t stop her from glowering at him. He was an idiot, and it was like he wanted to get caught. In truth, he probably did. Then he could stop the charade and be with the woman he actually loved. However, that wouldn’t do well for Lucy. Her father would just find another man to marry her to and she couldn’t have that. She may have wished it in the beginning, but too much was at stake now. Her father wouldn’t care if the male beside her was having an affair, but to bring public shame to the family would be a disgrace.

             “Careful, darling.” She placed emphasis on the pet name, and once more her smile full of lies graced her face. “You’ll get us caught.” She mumbled below her breath to keep their conversation from being overheard.

             “The only reason I agreed to your deal is my brother. Otherwise, I would have left with her long ago.” He muttered back to her. His tone having shifted from ‘overly excitable husband’ to ‘don’t get cocky’ in a matter of seconds. Two could play at this game.

             “I know that. I don’t care. Don’t. Get. Caught.” Each word was said through gritted teeth.

             “Oh my! Look at the happy couple!” it was her aunt Supetto for the third time that evening. “You look marvelous, my dear!”

             Her cheeks turned a shade of rosy pink as she knelt to her aunt’s height, and gently gripped her hands. “As do you, auntie.” The two separated, and she watched her aunt wander back out to the floor. She’d certainly be back.

             “You say I’ll get us caught. His face has been the epitome of ‘don’t touch her’ all night.” Shots fired. He was right though, Natsu had been throwing a silent tantrum since they’d descended the stairs arm in arm, with smiles of a happy couple. She didn’t want this anymore than he did. Zeref’s hand returned to her hip and pulled her just an inch closer. They’d come up with a system in their closeness. This marriage was one of necessity and convenience. Neither wanted this, but still. Zeref couldn’t shame the Dragneel name, and neither could she to the Heartfilia Konzern. Both would be inevitable as the affairs they both engaged in continued. And yet the pair of them felt addicted to their other half.

             “Surely, we could separate for a moment.” It was a suggestion that Zeref posed nearly every political event. He couldn’t stand to be there like some exhibit for very long, and truth be told Lucy couldn’t stand to have someone other than him touching her.

             “Surely, we could.” She echoed, and the pair separated. Both gave each other their signature smiles, and that lingering glance that they’d practiced and become sufficient at. It was like when she had played pretend as a child. Her performances could give a professional entertainer a run for their money. She crept down a small hallway that normally led towards the restroom, but instead of entering the ladies’ room she ventured to the left. The door shut softly behind her, and there she waited.

             It wouldn’t be long now, she hoped. And she was right. She heard his stomping before he even entered the room, but once he did she felt like her skin was on fire. Her father was insistent on marrying into a family of dragons for the status, and the fame but she’d always wondered what his thought process was on that. Did he think they’d be controlled? Impossible.

             “Natsu, could you please turn down the furnace. It’s rather hot.” She teased. Though, from the look on his face it was clear he was past the ‘joking to ease tension’ phase. Dragons were peculiar that way. They got insanely territorial over what they felt was theirs. It was how she’d first noticed Zeref’s feelings for Mavis, and it was how she’d discovered Natsu’s for her. She had been drawn to the mysterious air of the elder Dragneel, but immediately felt he was too tense, and stuffy. Natsu had been like a breath of fresh air in the spring. Zeref felt like a cloudy day with a one hundred percent chance of rain and high humidity. Yet, Mavis loved him with everything she had. To each their own, she supposed. Her own was right in front of her.

             Natsu wasn’t about to just let Lucy slide with a joke like he normally did. He’d watched them practice flirting, and getting the timing of their own lies together the entire night. That hadn’t bothered him, much, but the one thing he’d forgotten in his entire time with Lucy was that their parents had expectations. His father expected Lucy to bear the next heir of the Dragneel name, and of course Lucy’s father expected the same. He’d heard them practice what to say to their respective father’s, but both had become silent. Every single one of them knew that the argument wouldn’t hold out.

             Zeref’s eyes had been the color of blood red, and Lucy couldn’t even bother to face him. She couldn’t bear to tell him the truth, and he knew that. He knew that one day she would have to bear the child of his brother. It was either that, or she get sold to some other high ranking socialite. Zeref could easily sway their father to choose Mavis, but he hadn’t out of respect for Natsu. Natsu appreciated it in ways his brother would never truly understand, but Zeref was at his breaking point. It wouldn’t be long before he called it quits, and Lucy knew that too.

             They continued to refuse each other in this small room. Natsu never moving towards her, and Lucy staring into her hands like they were the most interesting thing in the world. He couldn’t stand it any longer. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. He moved towards her, and the movement startled Lucy into looking up.

             She could barely see through blurred vision as the water pooled, threatening to spill over. His hand touched her cheek, and she could feel the weathered skin, and each scar across the tips of his fingers and his palm. A tear slid when her eyes closed and she relaxed into his touch. His thumb ran under her eye to brush the liquid from her cheek.

             Not even a single tear should stain her cheeks. He’d decided this when they first began their arrangement, but that was then, and this was now. He couldn’t make this better. The greed of her father far outdid that of a dragon. He wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but he highly doubted he could ever think something nice of Lucy’s old man.

             “Stop cryin’, Luce. It’ll be alright.” She gripped his suit jacket tightly and nodded before tugging him against her. Her forehead nuzzled softly into his chest.

             “I know. I’ve been thinking lately… what if we all just ran away? Me, you, Zeref, and Mavis. Couldn’t we just leave?” if she cried anymore she’d ruin her makeup. Appearance was everything. She had to keep up appearance.

             “That wouldn’t solve a damn thing. My father would hunt us to the ends of the earth, and so would yours.” That didn’t mean he didn’t want to, because fuck did he want to. He could run to hell and back as long as it was her by his side. But they couldn’t. They couldn’t just leave.

             “What if—” she stopped herself. One ‘what if’ was all she could afford. Any more than that, and she’d have actual hope. His rough hand gently raised her chin up to look at him, and he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

             “I love ya. And if that means I gotta fight an army to keep ya then I will.” She didn’t want him to. Anything that would hurt him, she could never forgive. Even if it was herself.

             “Please don’t. I don’t want you to get hurt, idiot.” She lifted to her tip toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was soft like it always was, he mused. Her lips were sticky from the lip gloss she’d chosen. It tasted like watermelon. She had always liked those flavored ones, and he couldn’t help but agree. He licked her bottom lip, and she giggled – a real giggle – for the first time that night. The sound was like music to his ears. His own private symphony.

             He pressed his head into her neck, and his hands gripped her hips. She gave a small gasp that had him growling softly. Then, a scent rose to his nose. It was buried beneath her floral perfume. He was glad she chose the softest one she had in her array of scents. It hadn’t taken the heiress long to learn the sensitivity of a dragon’s nose, and since then had only worn soft scents that smelled of vanilla or a flower shop. Today was the flower shop. Still, that wasn’t the problem. No, his problem lay under that.

             Lucy noticed quickly the change from playful growl to territorial growl. She froze on the spot, and then she waited. Territorial Natsu could sometimes be a hassle, between sibling rivalry, and his disgust about their situation it often gave her trouble. Tonight, for example, he likely smelled Zeref on her skin. They’d had to do a ‘lover’s embrace’ in front of their fathers. Complete with longingly staring into each other’s eyes, and happy smiles. They joked about how disgusting it was later.

             In another life, she and Zeref would have been friends. She thought so anyway. Here they had a mutual partnership. One that likely wouldn’t make it much farther. It was just as she thought. They should all just run away.

             Natsu’s breath on the crook of her neck distracted her from her thoughts, and she tensed while a shiver ran down her spine.

             “Your father sucks.” He muttered, resting his forehead to her collarbone, and gently pushing her backward. It wasn’t long before she bumped into the desk at the far back of the office. This idiot was going to try that in a place like this.

             “He does. But you know what’s worse?” she was setting him up for a joke. Just like when she’d entered, but his brain didn’t want to hear it. Her dress had been distracting him all night, and with the scent of Zeref on it that was making it all the more irritating. It was tight, black and boy did it fit her like the perfect sized glove. He shivered the second his fingers caressed the fabric. His hands were gripping her hips again, which in turn made her nervous. She’d chosen the dress with slits on both sides with the purpose of riling him up, but she didn’t mean for right now, she’d meant for later. When they were alone in their chambers, and the party goers had gone.

             “Hmmm.” The sound vibrated against her neck as a tongue lashed out to lick her skin. A whimper slipped through her lips, and the grip on her hips tightened.

             “Happy’s going to destroy the furniture before we get back.” She deflected to the feline for aid in distracting Natsu from his current activities.

             “And when he does we’ll confiscate his prized fish as punishment.” A gasp of horror came from her body, but he was more than aware that she was joking. Soon, another giggle erupted through her ribcage.

             “And then we’ll have to buy a new couch. Again.” She mumbled.

             “What can I say. He really liked the old one.” Natsu wasn’t distracted one bit. In fact, his lips were kissing trails up her neck, and she was doing her best to hold it together.

             “For someone who owns a cat, you’re such a sly dog.” He bit into her neck softly, but she got the feeling that if he ever could, he’d leave nothing but marks on her pale skin to show everyone who she was with. She was his, and he was hers. This situation just complicated matters was all. Lucy rocked her hips into his, and he grunted.

             “Dragon. I. Am. A. Dragon. We are majestic!” he groaned loudly in annoyance with her terms, and she supposed he was right, but she wanted to make the joke, and so here they were.

             “Yes, a mighty dragon. He who lays claim to all treasure.” She had deepened her voice, and added a tone that sounded a lot like a story narrator.

             “If we lay claim to all treasure, then you’re mine. You’re my pile of golden coins.” He brought her hand to his lips, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. She flared a vibrant red, and her face felt like it was on fire all the way up to the tips of her ears.

             Their lips met again, but this time more urgent. Her fingers dug into his hair, and his hands finally found their way to her thighs. He squeezed one as he slid his other hand up her inner thigh to reach the seething warmth. A shaky sigh left her lips, and with one touch to the clothed flesh she was throwing her head back, and biting her lip to keep from making a sound.

             His grin was devilish as the finger began to rub up, and then down. Up. Down. Up. Down. He continued the slow pace, and the deliberate stroking even as her grip on his hair tightened. She breathed, and his name flowed out. His finger stopped abruptly, and he pulled it back. Then, once more a searing kiss to her lips.

             A knock at the door startled her from her haze. She froze in fear until she saw the look of irritation on Natsu’s sharp features.

             “We’ve got to get back.” Zeref’s voice echoed from behind the door, and she nearly cursed before pushing past the pinkette. She straightened up her appearance before hanging her head and mumbling something. Natsu had heard her, and all be damned he was a dragon. And wasn’t it a dragon’s duty to kidnap the princess and hide her where she’d never be found again? Her hand pressed to his chest, and she left him with a soft, lingering kiss. It was so pure and tender. It was so full of love that it nearly ripped out his heart to watch her leave arm in arm with Zeref.

             With her lingering glance on him as she left he silently promised the world would fear the wrath of Natsu Dragneel if it meant he could live a full life with her.

[sariasprincy-writes]

Blurred Lines - part vi

Blurred Lines MadaSaku Rated T

part i      part ii      part iii      part iv      part v

part vi

The burn of hard alcohol seared Sakura's throat as she pounded back a shot of whiskey. Her glass clinked loudly against the counter as she set it down with more force than necessary and she grimaced against its strong taste before her gaze sought out the bartender again, only too ready for another shot. The effects of the alcohol were already raging through her system, making her feel light and fuzzy around the edges, but it did little to help her mood. Or her temper.

She was angry – beyond furious – but rather than take her fury out by doing something more productive and healthy like a responsible adult, she had marched herself into the very bar she used to frequent with her old partner and ordered a shot of cheap whiskey, something – anything – with some kick. That had been half an hour ago and though she'd had enough alcohol to mostly impair her motor functions, she hadn't had enough to cool her simmering anger.

Tapping her nails obnoxiously against her glass in the hopes to capture the attention of the man behind the bar, Sakura glanced up at the television screen above her only to still her impatient fingers as a preview for the nightly news interrupted the sports game that had been playing. Even without the sound, the familiar picture of her agency's deputy director was enough to let her know what they were reporting as she felt her chest warm with renewed vengeance.

"Another?"

"Yes," Sakura said sharper than she intended, her gaze still glued to the screen.

Normally she would have apologized at being so short with someone who was not the source of her irritation, but she just couldn't bring herself to say the words as she read the caption below the news anchor: 'Deputy Director Danzo dies at age 74'.

It was only because the information hadn't been fully released to the public that it didn't say 'murdered'. The high-ranking member had been found dead in his home earlier that afternoon from what had been originally believed to be a self-inflicted gunshot wound. They would have ruled it a suicide if not for the fact there had been a calling card on the table next to him – quite literally. A single, clean business card had been left behind with nothing written on it; only a picture of a tradition Japanese fan – the symbol of the Uchiha Clan.

Sakura had no doubts Madara was behind the act, that he had ordered the assassination if he had not orchestrated it himself, and the concept that he had struck her agency left her furious, among other things. It seemed that perhaps she didn't know him as well as she had thought she did.

An unconscious glare settled upon her face as the bartender topped off her shot glass again. She reached for it immediately and, just like the rest, threw it back quickly with a slight hiss before she dropped the crystal back onto the bar top as loudly as before. Her finger traced the rim as she stared without seeing at the empty glass, inwardly debating whether she should head home for the night or continue to drown her anger.

Her decision was made before she even fully asked herself the question.

Casting her gaze down the bar, she sought out the bartender again as she felt someone slide into the seat next to her. Absentmindedly she side-glanced at them only to grow rigid as she recognized that mane of silky hair, the aristocratic features, and those eyes of volcanic glass. Madara. Her anger roared.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she spat.

"I came to see you."

"You have some nerve showing your face after what you did today."

He was unfazed by her venom. "The events of today are exactly why I'm here, Sakura," he said calmly. "I need to speak with you."

She scoffed lightly as she suppressed the urge to swing her fist at him. She wasn't entirely sure she was sober enough to make contact and so she purposely cold-shouldered him as she resumed impatiently tabbing her fingers against her glass, her expression murderous. "I don't care what you have to say," she hissed. "Get out of my face before I put a bullet through yours."

Silence briefly met her words as she felt his gaze pierce through her. She could feel him studying her, observing her; then he spoke, his tone that of genuine surprise: "Are you drunk?"

With a roll of her eyes, Sakura turned back to him to match his mildly stunned expression with an annoyed one. "I am in a bar, not that it's any of your concern."

"Of all days to get plastered," he murmured with an impatient sigh. Then he took a deep breath – whether to calm himself or press upon her to importance of his appearance, she didn't know nor did she care. "Sakura," he began, his voice full of forced patience, "I need you to listen to me very carefully-."

"No, I'm not doing you any favors," she interrupted, her expression hard and unforgiving of both him and herself. "You think you can just stroll in here like we're on the same team or something, but we're not. You have your side and I have mine," she said harshly. "I've done enough for you. I should have said no when you asked me to arrest your brother-."

She wasn't given the opportunity to finish her sentence before Madara grabbed her by the arm in a firm grip and dragged her off her stool. It was the first time since she'd entered the bar that she'd stood and now that she was back on her feet, she realized just how intoxicated she was as she was dragged away from the rest of the bar patrons and into a more private, side hallway.

Her world felt off-balance and she stumbled as Madara stopped her to spin her around. Her back hit the wall with some force, but she quickly met his smoldering gaze with a glare. "Do not forget who you are dealing with, Sakura."

His dangerous tone sent shivers up her spine, but she didn't flinch away from him. "As if I could ever forget," she hissed. "You've wheedled your way into my life, manipulating me and pretending to be…" she trailed off, unwilling to name the term she had been warring with herself over for some time. "I don't know…and for what? So you could assassinate my agency's second in command and turn to me for help?"

Madara took a step towards her, his larger frame further trapping her against the wall, and effectively caging her around him, but she refused to acknowledge the way her body warmed in both fear and something else entirely as his tailored suit brushed against her and his familiar scent intoxicated her already hazy senses. With his proximity, she didn't miss the way the edges of his expression were hard in anger, but there was a shadow of something behind his gaze that was far darker and her breath hitched. She was suddenly only too aware of the fact she was unarmed, her gun left at home.

"I may have done much in my time, Sakura, but I never manipulated you into believing I was someone I am not. I am a murderer and a dangerous man, and if you chose to overlook that then that is of no one's fault but your own. But I did not come here to discuss your internal dilemma."

He stepped away from her then, allowing some distance to fall between them and she quietly released the breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Slowly Sakura pushed herself off the wall, her gaze never wavering from his, before she ran her fingers through her tresses, both in an attempted to smooth down the locks and to shake the small tremor in hands. "Then what do you want, Madara?"

His hard gaze softened fractionally, but she could still feel the irritation radiating from him as he spoke: "Your honored deputy director, Danzo, was not as respectable as everyone believed him to be. He was planning a coup, intent on dismantling the task force designed to target and eliminate illegal arms being smuggled in and out of the country."

Sakura crossed her arms as she shot him an irritated and doubtful look. "And why would he do that?"

"For the same reason anyone does: money and paid loyalty," Madara answered, his tone strained as he suppressed his impatience. "He was looking to gain friends in some not-so-friendly places to assassinate key political leaders that had the ability to thwart his attempts to gain power."

"To gain power," Sakura repeated. She was still very much aware of the alcohol coursing through her system, but she cocked her head at him as she pretended to be far more sober than she actually was. "Danzo was a Deputy Director of one of the most important and influential agencies within this country. He was already powerful."

"Not more so than the Director," Madara supplied.

"And you think he was going to have Director Sarutobi Hiruzen, one of my agency's most successful leaders ever, assassinated?"

"I do not think; I know. I have irrefutable intel."

"What intel could you possibly have that is so credible-." She stopped abruptly as the pieces clicked together. She suddenly felt more clearheaded as her earlier suspicions returned and a heavy weight settled in her chest as she stared back at Madara. "You did kill Danzo, didn't you?" she asked quietly.

Madara was unfazed by her direct questioning. "He had information that I required-."

"So you tortured it out of him and then put a bullet through his head," she provided, her voice low.

His eyes were darker than the midnight sky as he observed her silently. She could sense his impatience and frustration simmering just beneath his cool expression and her heart began to hammer out a hard rhythm against her ribs as his gaze pinned her in place. "You seemed to have no objections to my actions before," he murmured quietly.

Sakura immediately tensed in defense. "Orochimaru was a kidnapper and murderer," she hissed.

"And Danzo was a corrupt politician and traitor to his country."

"Then what do you care?" Sakura retorted. "His crimes have no effect on you or your organization-."

"On the contrary, it does," Madara interrupted sharply. "Because the very criminals Danzo was aligning himself with, are people I cannot afford to have power or leverage within this country."

Against her wishes, Sakura felt herself grow curious. She tried to fight back her questions, her interest, but the words slipped off her loosened tongue before she could stop herself, "You're the leader of the Uchiha Clan; your criminal empire is known on every continent. Who exactly is capable of threatening your family into action?"

Her question hovered heavily in the air as Madara's eyes narrowed menacingly. Even in her intoxicated state, she could feel the dangerous waters she was wading into, but if there was one thing she had learned in her experience with dealing with Uchiha Madara, it was if one wanted answers, one could not back down no matter how much he redirected or threatened.

And so, she met his murderous gaze evenly and eventually, to the relief of her pounding heart, Madara relented. "There is another 'criminal empire', as you so termed it, in the west run by the Senju Clan. We have been in conflict with them for many decades. It was their leader, Senju Hashirama, that Danzo was attempting to align himself with and had they been successful, not only would your agency have fallen into the world of corruption, but my clan would have been forced into war as well."

Sakura suddenly understood why Madara had left a calling card with Danzo's body, but whatever reply she was preparing was cut off abruptly as the swinging door at the end of the hall was pushed open. A waitress came through with a stack of plates on her arms, obviously just having come from the kitchen, as she walked down the hall and towards the rest of the bar. She nodded politely at them, obviously uncomfortable with having interrupted their private conversation, and it suddenly struck Sakura that they looked more like an arguing couple than a federal agent and notorious criminal discussing national security.

The thought made the uncomfortable weight on her chest return and she leaned back against the wall for support as nausea briefly overcame her. It felt like she couldn't breath as her emotions twisted and knotted together behind her ribcage.

"Is any of this true?" Sakura asked quietly after her sickness passed.

Madara's gaze returned to her as the waitress disappeared into the bar and she took some comfort in finding his expression unreadable; it was more bearable than the cool anger. "Yes. However, Danzo was just as stubborn as was rumored and he was unwilling to admit to everything," he explained, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

She froze in shock before she felt her rage warm again. "Are you telling me that you not only murdered my agency's director, but you did so without evidence?"

"You will come to find in the criminal world, Sakura, that word-of-mouth is the only evidence needed. It is how we survive," he told her indifferently.

She felt a large lump settle in the bottom of her stomach. His obvious lack of remorse shook her to her core and reminded her for the first time in months exactly who Uchiha Madara was and what it was that he did. She didn't know when she had come to have such a romanticized perception of him, but it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her head and she was seeing her whole world clearly for the first time since she could remember.

Swallowing thickly, Sakura held up her hands as though trying to give herself a physical barrier. "You should not have come to me," she said, shaking her head slowly. "You should have left me alone."

"Sakura," Madara sighed.

She tried to step away from him as he reached for her, but in her intoxicated and distressed state, she stumbled. She felt Madara wrap his hand around her upper arm to keep her upright, but she only attempted to jerk away from him again, wanting nothing more than to keep her distance, and he pulled her towards him until her back collided against the wall once more.

The moment her world stilled, she snapped her eyes opened to find Madara was all but pinning her down. His chest was pressed flush against hers as his face hovered inches from her own, their breath mingling. She could feel his body heat soaking into her as the noise of the bar faded and her world narrowed until it was just the two of them.

Her heart hammered against her ribs and her skin broke out into goosebumps as she realized just how intimate their position was. She could feel every inch of his body where it pressed into hers, from their thighs to their chests. His hands were warm against her arms and a pleasured shiver raced up her spin as he trailed his fingertips from her shoulder and up her throat until he cupped her jaw.

Gently he angled her face up to his as his thumb swept across her cheek in a soft caress. There was a softness about his expression and a tenderness in his gaze she hadn't seen before and she closed her eyes as he slowly bent his head towards hers–

"Don't," she breathed, her voice that of the barest of whispers.

Madara froze but she didn't dare open her eyes.

"Please…don't."

A lifetime passed before she finally felt his grip loosen before it disappeared completely. She thought she felt his fingertips trail across her jaw a fraction of a second longer, but with how tightly wound she was, she couldn't be certain and it was a moment more before she finally cracked her eyes open.

Madara was standing only a step away, his expression and gaze void of any emotion as he watched her, silently waiting for her to make the next move. She was nearly shaking as her emotions twisted and warred within her, but her gaze was unwavering as she made her final decision.

"I can't do this anymore. I'm done."

There was no tremor nor quaver in her voice as she spoke. Her words came out strong and unyielding even though they were quietly spoken, and for a long minute, she believed Madara was going to say nothing as his dark, fathomless gaze bore into her.

Then he nodded, his expression indecipherable. "Very well. Be careful, Sakura," he murmured gently. "You may come to find that, perhaps in some instances, we are on the same side."

There was no tone in his voice, only his smooth tenor as his obsidian eyes kept her pinned to the wall. He seemed to be studying her, attempting to come to terms with something she didn't know but after a long, silent moment he nodded politely at her before he stepped away and gracefully made his exit without a backward glance.

She watched him go without a word, watched his familiar figure disappear into the crowd until he was visible no more, but even then she did not return to her stool as she tried to convince herself the pain in her chest had nothing to do with Madara; that her heart was not breaking. Her heart was not breaking.

Her heart was not broken.

tbc…