#that's a lot stronger to me. what if they cared? what if they cared so much. what then.
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perfect together
#smg4#smg34#hi guys😲🤚#hey look that's the outfit I've been meaning to give 4#I said fuck it he's just getting it#may my silly lil guy just get mauled by the bootleg plush#...... okay that's not what actually happened- but I don't really care anymore. I have so much on the mind n I already wanted to just#draw 4 in this and post him like this#the cute outfit was stronger than me#but yeah my#lil guy is safe they'r ehaving coffee at 3's cuz their energy got drained to shits n they need to get that shit back#weak ass mfer uses one ability and immedaitely runs out !!!#and the big ass plush would've been caught by these 2 together#because 3's slay would've been too much to handle for it#but I just. didn't quite have the passion for this like I do for a lot of other things that I want to do
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LOUD.
a Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan AU
Introspection fucking sucks, according to Commander Fox.
The thing about him is, he’s been made out to be a bastard and ever since their batch found their calling or whatever he’s embraced that role.
Every batch needed someone who didn’t secretly want to be cuddled, who pushed others away so he could keep track of the big picture.
Cody had competed for the role for a while. As did Wolffe.
For Cody, his heart, big and fragile once you got to know him, got in the way in the end. He sees the whole picture, craves it so he won’t go crazy from the losses. But he believes in people and their goodness.
Fox doesn’t.
Wolffe made the mistake of getting the galaxy’s best General. General Koon shits rainbows and glitter, from what Fox has been forced to listen to.
Fox has… the Chancellor.
He takes a swig of water and wishes it were something stronger. But Quin is on the other side of Fox’s desk, reading glasses ever so slowly slipping down his nose while he’s crunching and tracking the numbers to prove the Chancellor is, indeed, siphoning credits off the Republic to giftwrap them for the Seppies.
He takes another swig.
Wouldn’t surprise him if Palpatine turned out to be the villain of the whole story.
Brought Fox to drink with the kind attitude, the cruelty so expertly hidden from first glance, cushioned in false promises and support.
Hadn’t been pretty. But it had been easy. You go to the right places, people are only too willing to shell out for some drinks. Entertainment and morbid curiosity what brings a clone to their knees.
Some found the lisp he has because of the scar that ransacks through his lips and tongue endearing but most hadn’t bothered with wanting him talking.
Some wanted to inspect the changes in the Corrie armor up close and cozy.
If shit hadn’t already multiplied, Organa came flouncing into the Guard offices every two weeks with a new design like they were his little dress-up dolls.
The last design, the one that stayed, had a dummy connector installed in the backplate.
Fox hadn’t mentioned it. Had stewed over how the Guard, already isolated from the rest of the GAR, wasn’t even considered for the neural network that would make them more efficient, more deadly if activated. Treated like scum on a pedestal, overlooked and taken for granted.
Fox takes every advantage he can squeeze from that.
Every batch needs a willing loner who’s got the big picture in his head at all times and doesn’t care for the minutiae.
Fox had been comfortable in that role, really. He saw Thorn and Stone and Thire and the rest of them making friends and lovers and heartbreak, and that was the last fucking thing Fox wanted.
And then came Vos. Appearing from the shadows like a designer nightmare.
For such a short time they’ve sure gone through a lot together.
To the point Vos became Quinlan became Quin became Vos again became someone Fox clung to while fighting fucking addiction and the realization that he is stupid enough to become addicted.
No matter what Quin had said, Fox was supposed to be the pinnacle of cloning and artificially creating the perfect soldier. Addiction is a weakness and fault.
Fox almost did something extremely stupid over that one.
Turns out it’s all part of the sentient experience.
Fucking sucks.
Quin had laughed at that, ugly and bruised laughter, continuing to comb his fingers over Fox’s head. “Tell me about it.”
An eloquent way to say Quin was going through withdrawal himself.
They got outside help after that.
“Hey, Depa,” Quin murmurs absently after answering his comm, pushes his glasses up.
“Quinlan, is your line still secure?”
“‘Course. Especially after Fox got his grubby little hands all over it.”
Fox shows him the middle finger of one of his grubby little hands.
“Good,” General Billaba clips out. Quin straightens up, and maybe Fox’s attention isn’t misplaced here. “Good. Commander Cody was activated by the Sith Lord and he’s bringing Obi-Wan to Coruscant.”
Activated.
Quin is silent. Blinks up at the ceiling. “Can you run that by me again?”
“Quinlan, we have reason to be believe the Chancellor is the Sith Lord.”
Hah. Fox got that one right on his bingo card, at least.
Cody got activated.
As they’ve learned, the neural network - battlefield mediation, in fancy Kamino speak - is activated by a designated Force using GAR personnel. Surprisingly, the status is even an optional display on the screens of every trooper’s vambrace. Or not so surprisingly.
Cody got activated by the Chancellor. Who is the Sith Lord the Order has been hunting.
Fox will deal with that later or never, whatever comes first.
He’s comming the Guard all across the planet, checking the weapons on his person, while General Billaba explains the situation. He appreciates her succinct manner, he’s gotta say.
“I’m on the way to detain Anakin. Mace is following the ship Commander Cody captured but we need someone to intercept them on Coruscant before he reaches Palpatine.” She halts for a brief moment. “Obi-Wan seems to believe the Commander has betrayed him when he knows about the neural link inside the clones. We are fearing the Darkness is deliberately attacking and clouding his senses.”
“I’m on my way,” Quin nods, adds with a calculating glance at Fox, “I’m not sure I have back-up.”
“Funny thing about the Alderaan design of the guard armor,” Fox comments, checking the plasma charge on his DC, and vows to give Senator fucking Organa a sliced fruit platter, “the Guard doesn’t have the connector to the neural link.”
He comms their resident medic next and orders every gundark-level tranquilizer delivered to him.
Cody got activated and is following the orders of a Sith Lord.
Stars help them.
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A Friend In Me: Chapter 4
Yandere Platonic Toman
Chapters 1 | 2 | 3
Masterlist
my usual pink line divide no longer works because it messes with the tags ;^; have this divider from angelfire instead
The world around Mikey came to a standstill. His ears buzzed with static, unable to process anything as his mind raced. In a sole instant, everything clicked together as if an incomplete puzzle finally being solved, and the Tokyo Manji Gang president could see the full picture, though the surprise at this revelation never made it to reflect in those abyss eyes.
It made sense now, the blond-haired boy mused, watching the other five Toman founders burst into action in slow motion around him. He understood. Why you were attracted to two fighting delinquents instead of beating a hasty retreat like everyone else when you first met them, why you never seemed bothered by them turning up with small splatters of blood on their disheveled uniforms, why you could so effectively patch up injuries. You had never divulged or discussed your home life nor your childhood with them, and he had never bothered pressing you for details. Because why would he, when all evidence pointed to you living alone and having always lived alone? Having followed you home countless times to an empty house, you were always alone at all times of the day. No laundry or carelessly strewn clothes to be found, no closed or locked room that indicated another resident in your home. Even the pictures that decorated the walls and your bedrooms have always just been you and them.
“Hey!” From behind Mikey came a shout from Mitsuya, quickly followed by the telltale sounds of a tussle between the Toman Vice President and the Second Division Captain over you in the middle. “Don’t pull like that!”
You had grown up beside a delinquent. Your older brother whom you had never cared to mention was himself a fearsome and borderline insane delinquent - they had doubetlessly heard of Madarame Shion’s brutality and his supposed involvement in underworld crimes even before their paths crossed. Of course nothing they did would surprise or scare you if this was the normal behavior you were exposed to all your life.
Abyss eyes turned to take in the expression on your face, the horror at what was happening slowly settling into your swollen eyes even as tears continued to streak down flush cheeks. Yet, all it took was the merest exposure to what was the normalcy of any delinquent’s life for you to break down - a telling-off, a by-far bloodless fight, nothing that would raise the eyebrow of a seasoned onlooker really. So how much did you really know? Did you know of their previous clash with Shion and the ninth generation of Black Dragons back when from the founding of Toman? He doubted it - your reaction to them after their fight would have been a lot stronger if you did. But most importantly, why didn’t you tell them earlier about having an older sibling?
A muffled shout from your still-connected call to your disgrace-of-a-delinquent older brother was enough to draw Mikey’s attention back to the current situation at hand, though he all but ignored whatever that goon had to say. No, you couldn’t know, he determined, because if you did, you would clearly see that they had no reason to fear a shithead like Shion. They had beaten him and his gang once already, what was a second time? But he could get the answers out of you later, once you were safe and away from this mess. For now, the Toman President mused, as time returned to its usual speed and the world exploded back into its full chaotic state, there were more important things to settle.
The mere thought of possibly losing you to this black-haired homewrecker you called Koko, or even worse, the loser of an older brother that they have already beaten to a pulp once; his heart raced. He couldn’t accept it. These weak-willed losers couldn’t be allowed to win him, especially not in a matter as important as this.
Pivoting around, your watery eyes were helplessly fixed on the brawl going down right in front of you, phone clutched in a white-knucked grip. This was all for your own good. He was just protecting you from the wider world, the Toman President tried to convince himself, his slippered feet starting its ominous route towards the brawling four, his hands tucked almost casually into the pockets of his school pants. Your eyes immediately snapping to him and your lips falling apart as you watched him move.
Not because Mikey needed your support and your attention; no, he didn’t need you as much as you needed him. He was strong, the unshakable pillar of the Tokyo Manji Gang, not soft and weak and a crybaby like you. His heart wasn’t aching at the mere thought of never being able to see you again, never having you pamper and lavish him with attention and love and filling the hole in his heart - the palpitations was from excitement, the itch to fight and drive away the enemies of his friends.
He was the Invincible Mikey, and now more than ever, he needed to make sure that everyone knew why.
Ninth Generation Black Dragon President. You heard Koko loud and clear right before the momentary tranquility went straight to hell once more, but now you could barely think amidst the cacophony. Individually, the words made sense, yet strung together, it became incoherent to your spinning mind. Too many, too much. Watching Baji once more take aim at the opposing delinquent, you staggered a step forward, your heart urging you to take action; do something, do anything. Before someone gets hurt again.
You were yanked back before you could take another step, vaguely registering Draken’s voice snapping at you but nothing registering in your mind. Fixated on the fight going on its second round, the white of Inui’s uniform, combined with his sunflower-blond hair, seemed to almost glimmer in the sunlight as it caught your eye, and the memories you had long lost to the back of your mind came surging back to the front. You had seen that uniform before, having washed and scrubbed the blood from the white fabric before Shion moved out. It’s happening. Again. Any control you felt you had left over your own life was slipping through your fingers once more; the way of your life that you had so painstakingly built, the personality you had so carefully tailored, everything was falling apart in front of your eyes. All over again.
Those stunned expressions you just saw simply couldn’t be faked, you knew instinctively, not with how all of them wore the same look on their faces. For reasons beyond you, everyone present all knew your older brother, and vice versa. They all hated each other, and you were caught right in the middle. How could you have known that the only friends you had knew of and hated each other? What more could you have done? What could you have done differently?
Maybe you should have heeded Mikey’s and the other’s warnings about Koko. Maybe if you hadn’t gone looking for that CB250T. If you hadn’t-
Every breath became heavier and heavier, faster and faster, and you struggled to fill your lungs, the air sludgy and thick. The world around you was all too much. Too loud. You couldn’t-
A fresh pair of arms enveloped you, and you were pulled into a tight hug. “Breathe.”
You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding, your body shuddering as the atmosphere instantly thinned out. You gulped down as much oxygen as you could, your sweating palms glistening in the light of the afternoon sun.
“Are you alright?” Mitsuya’s voice was calm, soft, those calloused hands gently running through your hair as he bodily blocked you from the fight that was occurring just a stone’s throw away.
Unable to speak, you simply nodded, wiping your fist on your shirt. I’m fine, you mouthed, though you knew that Mitusya knew it was a lie, your skin having turned several tones lighter from the lack of air. But you had other more important things to concern yourself with (at least in your view), as you attempted to look over your friend’s mob of purple hair. What had you missed?
“Relax,” the Toman founder tried to convince you, resting one hand atop your head yet not forcing you down by any means despite Draken’s annoyed ‘tch’ from behind you, where he continued to hold on to you tightly. “Let them handle it.”
Let them handle it? Giving a shaky glance you hoped was reassuring at Mitsuya, you turned your attention back to the fight, right as Kazutora broke past Inupi’s defense, his fist outstretched and jealous anger fully directed at Koko.
In a single blink, you broke free from both Draken and Mitsuya’s grip, your long strides closing the distance between you and Koko. “Tory, stop!”
The last thing Koko expected was to see you flying towards him, putting your decidedly much more fragile self between him and the Toman founder.
”Fuck- Watch out!”
An exceptionally hard yank from Koko had both you and him flying backwards, but the loud smack of a fist into the back of your head as the two of you fell towards the ground was unmistakable. His gut dropped. Damn it. Too late. Landing with an oof on the hard ground and you atop him, the infamous financier could hardly acknowledge the ache of his back, not while his thoughts were focused solely on you. “Are you alright?” What on earth were you thinking? He wasn’t exactly a delinquent but he sure as hell could take, if not dodge, a hit better than you - he just preferred standing behind others.
You winced, rubbing what should be a forming sore spot where you were hit. “I’m fine,” you assured, the momentary crinkle of your forehead as you carefully shifted tilted your head telling otherwise, though it was quick to evaporate as the realization of who cushioned your fall hit you. You scrambled to stand, but you were instantly tackled to the ground once more by a bawling Toman founder with black and yellow hair and nearly falling over again - Kazutora, if Koko remembered correctly.
”I- I-“ Barely able to speak, your own injury was forgotten as you instantly shifted to attempt to soothe the wailing boy with an undeserved gentleness. “I hit-”
”I’m fine, I’m fine,” you tried to reassure. “It barely touched me.” It was obviously the wrong thing to say, your voice quickly drowned out as Kazutora only cried harder, burying his face into your shirt, fists clenching bundles of your school shirt.
Koko could only watch on as you caught his gaze, returning an apologetic one of your own as you did your best to soothe the bawling delinquent - a sight that he never thought he would witness. He did already have a good idea of what your self-proclaimed Toman friends were like, having been forewarned about how protective they were of you (some of your stories truly did raise an eyebrow or two). And sure, Inupi had whirled around at his alarmed shout with what should be an intent to help, but his attention had been forced back to the fight on hand almost instantaneously when Baji had attempted to take advantage of his momentary distraction to go in for a sweep; it's not as if his friend didn’t care at all. But expecting to have to throw hands was one thing, understandable even, given how he would be associated with Inupi and thus the Black Dragons, but this level of attachment? Were all these waterworks even real?
A set of footsteps stomping in his direction had the notorious financier look up, and straight at the Toman’s Vice Captain towering over him. But the other’s ire surprisingly wasn’t directed at him, and instead, you were bodily lifted by the front of your shirt, forcing Kazutora off of you right before you were shaken like a stuck salt shaker. “What the hell were you thinking?! That was insane!”
“I’m alright-” You barely got two words out before being cut off again.
“YOU ARE NOT OKAY,” bellowed back an uncharacteristically furious Draken, and you threw both hands up in surrender even as you continued to be shaken around like a martini. “YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN HURT. OR KILLED!”
Kazutora only started to cry harder at his words, babbling incoherently as he tried to latch onto your legs.
At least the Toman Third Division Captain was on your side, stepping between a furious Vice Captain and you and prying you free with little effort. “You’re making it worse,” Pah said simply, echoing Mitsuya’s earlier words.
“-ey! HEY! ” The vague screams of Shion echoed out from beneath you, alerting you, Koko and everyone else to the fact that you had yet to hang up on your previous call. Fishing around beneath you where your phone had most likely fallen earlier on, your older brother’s frankly annoying shrieking was finally noticed, now that the general mayhem had died down.
And much to Koko’s annoyance, you visibly stiffened upon hearing Shion once more, like a bolt of lightning ran up your spine, and you bent over to gingerly pick up your dropped phone. He hated seeing you scared of someone as useless as Shion, a scumbag even Inupi wasn’t impressed with. If he could make your problem disappear, he would in a blink. Not that this would be right time to tell you this.
The clash of delinquents had long driven off any last soul left that tried to wander down this street, the road deserted of passerbys of any kind. Even the wind had long died down, and Koko hastily dabbed away the sweat forming along his upper lip. “Ah, nii-san-” You mumbled out under your breath, though that was most likely more to remind yourself who you were dealing with on the other end.
“FUCKING FINALLY! YOU GET YOUR ASS HOME NOW!”
Deflated, you looked defeated at your older brother’s orders, your shoulders slumping over. “I-”
But Shion was not done. “AND DROP THOSE TOMAN FUCKS, UNDERSTAND?”
And that was apparently where the former Black Dragon President crossed the line. In a blink, your phone disappeared from your grip as if by magic. You barely had time to react, the small, outdated electronic now clutched tightly in Mikey’s white-knuckled grip, a speed that took even Koko by surprise. When did he get that? Where did he even come from?
“I’ll kill you,” the threat from the Toman President was loud and clear, the sheer rage burning behind those empty eyes enough to have even Koko recoil. “You try anything funny, and I’ll kill you, right here, right now.”
A snort. “Try it, motherfu-”
It was a loud crack, followed by a small fizzle, an unremarkable show that marked the untimely end to your device as Mikey crushed the phone underfoot without an afterthought. Your jaw dropped. Koko estimated you must have lost the equivalent of several months of work in one inconsiderate move.
Not that the Toman lowlives you called friends knew, of course, seemingly failing to notice you staring on speechlessly as Baji proceeded to grind the heel of his foot into the electronic device, spitting curses probably meant for your brother. You no doubt knew full-well by now that they were pissed to hell and back, both at Shion and at him, but did they have to take this out on your poor, defenseless phone?
A shove from Mitsuya quickly broke Baji’s rampage. “Stop that!” The purple-haired boy scolded, as he pushed the other Toman founder away, earning himself an irritated “Huh?!” from the First Division Captain, though that did little to scare Mitsuya. “You’re making it worse!”
The breaking of your phone was of relative insignificance to Koko at least, watching you dejectedly shuffle forward to pick up the broken pieces of the devices to stuff back into your pocket; the short tranquility he got now from the previous chaos was worth the cost to replace it for you at a later date. Even better, he could get you a nicer model, something pretty and slick and get into your good books, perhaps convince you to get an additional number that only he would have? That would definitely put him ahead of the Toman boys, at the very least.
“Hey.” A short shuffle, and Koko looked up, his eyes instantly focusing on your outstretched hand.
Inupi had long stepped aside, not eager to be pulled back into this particular lover’s squabble, those blue eyes content with observing as the Toman founders were once more embroiled in pointless arguments once more. Complete with threats of violence and withholding of lunches, it was Mistuya this time that was caught in the middle, attempting to scold both Mikey and Baji with backing from Draken.
You, though, had turned your attention instead to him. “Are you alright?” Your voice was soft, barely audible over the other loud voices. Even with all that happened, you hadn’t forgotten about him.
“Ye, I’m fine,” Koko assured. “Just a bit sore.”
Yet as he reached out to accept your offer of help, it was a sudden recognition of the situation he put himself in that rang in his ears and rattled his mind; the sensation much as if he was waking from a trance the black-haired boy hadn’t even realized he was in. Widened almond eyes met yours, the realization lighting up dilated pupils: if he had known any better, you would have been the last person he would ever want to court, let alone be in any sort of relationship with, coming laden with so much baggage. Anyone would be insane to want to be involved with a walking spark like you.
Alas, the sensation was momentary, and the thought of letting you slip away from him - letting someone Koko cared about be stolen away from him again - was accompanied immediately by a heart-throbbing sense of loss that came surging from his gut. Could he truly live without you to fill the hole in his heart? More importantly, did he dare to attempt to?
Too lost in his thoughts, it was a subconscious catch of movement in the corner of his eye that snapped Koko out from his inner turmoil. It was of course you, though the disappointment was already written on your face as you began to pull away and straighten up, words tumbling free from pressed lips. “Ah- I’m glad,” you muttered, starting to turn away from him. “Hopefully it doesn’t hurt bad.”
How long had he been trapped thinking in real world time? Long enough for you to notice his hesitation, at the very least. Panic now kicking his reaction back into high gear, Koko all but threw himself after your now-retreating hand, catching it just centimeters away from where it had been, a nervous smile pulling at his lips. “Thanks,” was all his heavy tongue could stutter out, the black-haired boy trying desperately to pretend that nothing had happened as he pulled himself up, taking care to rely as little as possible on you. You said nothing, but the upturn of your lips told him everything he needed to know. You didn’t even pull away from him when he had surreptitiously intertwined his fingers with yours, quietly pulling both your hands behind him so the others couldn’t see.
See? There was no doubt - you wanted to be with him. The little moment however didn’t last long, as Koko forced himself to focus back on the issue at hand. He had to solve this issue before they could take you away from him. He couldn’t lose everything again. Wrecking his brain, the solution that Koko arrived at was surprisingly simple.
Money.
It was money that could have saved Akane, so maybe money could save you too? That was it. Money. Money could solve everything, couldn’t it? “How much?” Koko found himself blurting out before he could stop himself. Those two words were enough to dumbfounded everyone there, with eight pairs of eyes turning to stare at Koko. Were they really that surprised? Or just waiting for an offer?
“A hundred thousand yen,” the black-haired boy clarified. And he didn’t need to clarify what he was saying - a hundred thousand yen for them to give you to him. He didn’t want to fight, he was barely interested in being a delinquent as it is. All he wanted was you, no matter the cost. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand yen.”
“What?” You were the first to speak, your slack jaw and furrowed eyebrows sending a throb through his chest. Damn, was his offer too low? You were priceless of course - no matter how vast Koko’s fortune was, you would always be unattainable - so were you going to think that he was being cheap? That you were only worth so little in his eyes?
Even Inupi had raised an eyebrow at his named price, and though the surprise was written all over his usual stoic expression, the blond-haired boy said nothing.
But before he could try and revise his offer, to make sure you knew just how much Koko was ready to spend on you, it seemed his words finally set in in the others’ much slower minds. “Do you think we’re just going to sell-” The vein bulged prominently on Baji’s forehead as he once more lunged forward, and would have reached his target if not for Mitsuya grabbing the back of his shirt. “You son of a bitch!”
“How fucking dare you?!” Kazutora snarled, and Koko braced himself for another fight as the duo-colored delinquent made to pull away from you.
“Honestly why is it everytime there’s a ruckus, it’s always you, Mikey?” A new voice sighed out from behind Koko, catching all present by surprise. Those abyss eyes were an exact carbon copy of the Tokyo Manji Gang President’s, though the man that they belonged to was one that Koko was thankfully still on rather good terms with. “Can yall at least keep it away from my shop? Bad for business and all.”
By now, the once clear sky had filled up with clouds that blocked most of the light from the afternoon sun, the oppressing heat somewhat dissipating as the breeze picked up once more.
From where you were at the center of the mess, your ears perked up as if a dog recognized the word ‘snack’. “O-oji-san?” You sniffled a little, though you quickly pulled yourself together, rubbing your nose on your forearm. Eyes, though red and swollen, were now dry.
“I’m not that old!” Shinichiro froze right as the words left his lips, blinking as he stared back at you, the gears very clearly turning behind his eyes as he took in the entire scene that had unfolded right in front of his shop. “Oh,” the man mumbled, as if all the puzzle pieces had just fallen into place, gaze turning from you to Mikey before landing on Inupi and Koko. A pause, and he sighed, resting one hand on his hip. “It’s you, huh?”
Kazutora shuffled protectively in front of you in an attempt to hide your figure from the older man’s view, your arm interlocked tightly with his as he glared back. “You staring?” The sandy-brown eyed boy demanded, puffing up his chest the same way a cat poofed up its fur, a 180 from his childlike state just minutes earlier, the tears now all gone as he scowled at the newest entry.
This, however, only earned him a whack to the back of his head by Draken, after which the boy deflated. “That’s Mikey’s older brother, dipshit.”
Shinichiro seemed to barely notice the small squabble taking place, his hand dipping into his pocket to withdraw a small, slightly crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Sliding the stick into his mouth and lighting up, the older man took a long inhale, his voice slightly raspy as he spoke. “So,” he started, looking at Mikey. “This is the buddy you’ve been telling me about?”
Yet before Mikey could answer the rhetorical question, Shinichiro had already turned to Koko. “And also your little birdie?”
“No.” “No.” Both Mikey and Baji snapped irritably together in response to the second question, with Baji seemingly just a hair’s breadth away from flying straight at Koko once more, his fist clenching with anticipation.
“He,” Baji very pointedly hissed out, sharp yellow eyes glaring across the aisle at Koko. “Needs to stay away.”
You meekly shuffled your feet, your eyes turned down towards the ground as your Toman friends turned on cue to shoot you a stink eye. Ah. Caught breaking the rules again. “Koko’s just a friend,” you offered weakly, though it didn’t seem to convince anyone.
Koko could only feel the growing pit at the base of his gut as Inupi threw a similarly dirty look his way, though the sunflower-blond Black Dragon member still raised his pipe in defense. Fuck. To be fair to him, Koko reasoned internally, he hadn’t known about your ties to the Tokyo Manji Gang back when he was standing outside Inupi’s door in the rain, but he did casually fail to mention it even after he knew. Now that it was out in the open, there wasn’t really anything more he could say.
Shinichiro let out yet another ragged sigh as he took another breath, exhaling the smoke into a column that hung lazily in the still, humid air before speaking again, this time his words directed at you. “And you’re related to the Ninth Generation Black Dragon President? The one that Toman bea- OW!”
You were slightly confused at Mikey’s sudden move to stomp on Shinichiro’s foot, the abrupt sentence stop only leaving you to wonder. Was Shinichiro trying to say something that Mikey didn’t like? Shrugging it off as something you wouldn’t be able to find out anyway, the side eyes sent Shinichiro’s way were hard to miss. “Madarame is my nii-san,” you nodded, reaching down to gently touch the remnants of your phone jiggling in your pocket. “He moved out from our family home years ago, but it seems like he’s back today for some reason.”
Hopping around the pavement, the man’s expression was twisted in pain radiating from his bruised foot, with Mikey still scowling at his own older brother. “Ah, i-in that case,” Shinichiro managed to grit out as he shuffled back to lean against the glass windows of his shop. “You should go home and see what he wants.”
That turned out to be a highly unpopular opinion, and the disagreement your friends felt necessary to voice was made obvious even with the respect the delinquents had for Shinichiro, Mikey being the loudest in his protest.
“No!” “Absolutely not.” “Are you crazy?!” “NO!” The torrent of disagreements were certainly surprising to you, and you blinked owly as you were physically pulled further away from Shinichiro, as if the older man was going to personally rip you away from your friends and bring you home.
Shinichiro, however, was undeterred by the outburst that half the neighborhood must have heard, waving his arms downwards in an attempt to restore the peace, waiting for the chaos to die down before continuing, his smoking cigarette lightly gripped between two fingers. “As I was saying, you should go home and see what Shion wants first, since he is your older brother. And then Mikey and your friends can meet you after. I’ll settle things here and then send them over, alright?”
It was phrased as if it was a suggestion, but there was no negotiation to be had. Now that Shinichiro was present, he was in charge.
You seemed hesitant, but ultimately agreed. That did make sense to you, given that if Shion was planning to move back home, there were arrangements that would have to be made, and changes in your schedule. And with how much your older brother and Toman seemed to already hate each other, it would be better to allow tempers to diffuse before combining both halves of your life. “Alright, I’ll head home first.”
“What if she isn’t safe at home, Shinichiro-san?” Draken pointed out, his arms crossed, Pah nodding sagely along, joined by the frantic bubbling and wailing from Kazutora, who had done another u-turn from badass delinquent to bubbling and wailing mess, attached to your side like superglue and refusing to let go.
Mitsuya straightened out your school uniform for you, a more levelheaded presence though still physically blocking any view you had of Koko further down the street. “Are you going to be safe?”
You paused, your head cocking as you considered what Mitsuya was asking, before slowly nodding. “Madarame-nii won’t hurt me,” you tried to assure, though you didn’t sound very confident yourself. “I should be fine.”
“They won’t be long here,” Shinichiro promised, grabbing Mikey by the back of his shirt as said boy attempted to make a break for you, before he turned to almost effortlessly snag Kazutora in the exact same manner.
Koko’s heart sank when you turned away from him, but with Shinichiro’s stronger-than-it-looked hand resting on his shoulder, Inupi was already distancing himself from the Toman boys, all he could do was watch you say your goodbyes to your Toman friends before disappearing round the bend, with no say on whether he would ever be able to see you again. Maybe, maybe all he needed was more money.
Fourteen years in the future, the atmosphere that blanketed the headquarters of the feared Tokyo Manji Gang syndicate was not too dissimilar to the delicate yet weighty tension outside of Shinichiro’s shop. It was by every account a gorgeous day outside, the bright afternoon sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and catching in the gold trimmings of each and every fitting of the opulent home. Yet, the hallways of the penthouse were unusually empty of the usual black-tie suited gangsters and guards and the like that usually teemed this area, the deafening silence weighing down what was the epitome of luxury. But it was hardly a concerning issue to Kisaki as he stalked down the wide corridors, casting a shadow on the priceless art and other masterpieces as he swept past, the crystals that decorated the chandeliers hanging above chiming lightly as they jingled with the air conditioning. After all, he did know why everyone had been sent away, and he did hold a very slight responsibility for the cause.
His destination was at the end of the corridor, a simple white door fitted into wallpapered walls that stood out like a sore thumb amidst the lavishness, a curse from a different time that continued to haunt both him and Mikey. Because it wasn’t just the door that was a specter from the past, Kisaki knew. The sole rap on the door was a courtesy, and the suited man didn’t wait for a response to enter.
The room he stepped into looked ripped straight from a common suburban home, unfitting for a multimillion dollar house right in the heart of Tokyo, even less so for a yakuza boss with the entire underground world at his fingertips. Simple painted walls, a hardwood flooring, and well-worn furniture that had seen better days, things that Kisaki wouldn’t even give a second glance yet things that would get him shot between his eyes if his fingers lingered on them for a second too long. “Mikey,” Kisaki greeted, cutting a straight path to the single armchair turned to face away from the entrance.
There was no response from said man, abyss eyes staring blankly out clear, streakless windows into the open sky, though his gaze did turn to meet Kisaki’s as the door swung close with a soft click, the dragon tattoo decorating his scrawny neck contrasting greatly with his pale skin. A sky-high view of the city skyline worthy of the sky-high price, but again, not what he was here for.
The Toman second-in-command held up a sheaf of papers, his other hand pushing up his glasses. “Need your sign-off on these.” It was rare for him to have to do such menial tasks as delivering paperwork - that is the sole purpose he pays for Mikey to have a dedicated secretary - but with it being this time of the year again, the reports were once more starting to be returned unsigned and unread.
Yet for all the effort Kisaki undertook to come here in person, it meant nothing to Mikey, the yakuza boss simply ignoring whatever his right-hand man had to say as he turned his gaze back out the window once more. The spectacled man tried again, taking a step closer. “Mikey,” he insisted, hand reaching out in an attempt to pass on the papers on hand.
But it was the distinctive click of a gun’s safety being switched off that had Kisaki retract his hand as if burnt, the anger that had sparked in those usually empty eyes clear as Mikey swung around to glare at him. Throwing both arms up in surrender and under the other’s deadly scowl, he backed away slightly; an inch closer, and those reports would have brushed against the delicate decades-old fabric of the armchair. Your armchair.
That heavy pressure was palpable as the silence weighed on the passing time. A heartbeat, then two. “What?” The biker gang president-turned-mafioso finally growled out, voice hoarse from lack of use - it must have been at least a week since he last spoke, Kisaki noted.
”Your sign-off.”
”No.”
Kisaki let out an exasperated sigh. “Mikey-“
”No,” Mikey repeated. “Leave.” And that was that, with said man refusing to look at him a moment longer, flopping back down into his armchair limply, the momentary energy from a rush of adrenaline dissipated back into the cocktail of depression and drugs the former delinquent had been indulging in.
There was nothing more that the second-in-command could do but to obey and leave. But he did understand the reason behind Mikey’s foul mood - it was just about a month out from both Shinichiro’s and your death anniversary, after all, even if both events were several years apart. Pausing at the threshold of the room, Kisaki used the moment it took to open the door to subtly glance around; it was rare that he ever had the chance to see the inside of this room.
After all, the ghost that still haunted them was you.
This was, or had been, your room, with every last item and detail having been painstakingly removed, transported and reinstalled when the yakuza boss had finally been convinced to relocate from what had been your home in the suburb for his own safety. That armchair, your bed and covers that Mikey still sleeps in, the wooden floor panels and the old plastered walls and ceilings. Even this blasted door which formally served as your bedroom door. It was all you.
And your death hadn’t even been planned. Sure the spectacled man knew of your existence, but you had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had been caught up in an attack meant for another.
Carefully closing the door behind him, Kisaki shook his head, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The once strongman of Toman, the invincible delinquent, could conquer anything he set out to - the spiral into crime, the murder of his former friends, the whole of the Japan underground world. Yet twelve years on, Mikey just couldn’t let you go, long after you had breathed your last breath and torn the entire Toman apart.
The good thing was that at least Kisaki doesn’t exactly need the Toman boss’ approval to get things done around here; it’s far easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
Back fourteen years in the past, you hardly had the time to worry about what time would eventually bring to your doorstep, knee-deep in your current problems. The moon hung mockingly high in the sky as you closed the door gently behind you, tweaking the knob slightly as it latched back into place to stop its usual click. Your efforts, however, were in vain, and you froze as the all-too distinctive sound echoed through the otherwise silent night. Carefully pressing one ear against the wooden front door, you held your breath, waiting to hear that distinct stomping of feet down the stairs in your pursuit and the roar of your name.
The past weeks have been nothing short of hell. With your older brother Madarame temporarily moving back into your family home, it went without saying that you were no longer permitted to see your Toman friends going forward, let alone have them come over. Biting your lip, you would simply agree and say nothing more, careful to tread on eggshells around the volatile boy. With how closely your older brother has been monitoring your every move, you hadn’t dared to step out of line - you did previously have a front row seat as to what happened to the people around you the last time you dared to openly disobey.
Yet time and time again, it was Mikey and the others that persisted in swinging round to pick you up in the evenings against your brother’s orders in the one and half week since the fight, exactly as Shinichiro had predicted, even doing several very loud donuts that your neighbors would not appreciate outside your house just to make sure that Shion knew they were there. To your surprise, it was your brother who has done nothing more than scowl at you running out to meet them from the window like a disapproving mother before disappearing into the house, failing to even bring up your cheeky escapades the day after. Him and the Toman founders definitely weren’t on speaking terms, you determined, but there was more to it that either party was willing to say.
But all this was far from your concern at the moment.
Tonight was one of those rare nights: with your brother fast asleep in his bed instead of out and prowling the streets, and the mobs of various-colored hair were nowhere to be seen lounging along your street, busy with a gang meet at Musashi Shrine. A rare chance to take advantage of this extraordinary situation where you have finally been left alone for just a small window of time. That is, as long as you didn’t get caught first - and your brother would 100% tattle on you to your friends if it would get you in more trouble.
The summertime heat was already in full-force by now at the start of August, and though the blazing temperature has at least cooled somewhat with the absence of the sun from the night sky, the humidity had yet to let up. Beads of perspiration that dotted your forehead trailed their way down your forehead as you waited, your heartbeat racing with every second ticking by. Was this it?
A minute passed. Then two. And the inside of your house remained as quiet as the dead of night, the peace of your neighborhood unbroken. Heaving a sigh of relief, you quickly turned heel, fleeing down the lifeless main street before taking a corner at the first alley, coming face to face with a familiar grinning face waiting for you under the flickering light of a weary streetlamp. “Took you long enough,” Koko chuckled, both hands tucked into the pockets of his pants.
“That’s not very nice!” You tried your best to put up an indignant front, but the facade collapsed into a wide grin too quickly for any part of it to be taken seriously. “Did I keep you waiting long, Koko? Sorry ‘bout that.”
The black-haired boy waved off your apologies, pulling himself up from the wall he had been leaning against. “Nah, it’s just been a few minutes,” he admitted. Offering a hand to you, you were glad to accept, gently intertwining your fingers with his as he led you through the dark alleyway, your duo’s footsteps barely echoing amidst the silent residential buildings. “Any place in mind?”
You shook your head. “Didn’t think about it cause I know you do.”
“Ah.”
You laughed as Koko rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. You did know him well enough to assume otherwise. Letting out a hum, you allowed the other to tug you closer to his side, to which you responded by resting your head on his shoulder. “So where are we going?”
If you could be honest with yourself for a moment, Koko was the breath of fresh air you had been looking for. It was a truly ungrateful feeling to harbor, especially towards your Toman boys who had been the ones to take you in and accept you as a friend, but he was an escape from the constant neediness and possessiveness. You did love them dearly, really, but sometimes it all just got too much for you, with the final straw being that particular incident outside of Shinichiro’s shop; you had never been frightened of Mikey or Baji or the others before, yet seeing them snap before your eyes at another that you held dear to you - it was all too much, on top of having to deal with new tension at home.
All you wanted was to be able to hang out with a friend you made yourself, someone you didn’t have to give constant attention to. A friend who wouldn’t put you on a pedestal.
“There’s a nice karaoke place in town,” Koko replied almost absentmindedly, his well-gelled hair bobbing slightly as it caught the occasional light as the two of you stepped out of the alleyway and back onto a main street. “We can take the train there.”
Your mind immediately thought to the last round your Toman boys had invited you to karaoke with them, the session ending with you having to cool heads when they started bickering about whose turn it was with the mic. “That’s a good idea,” you nodded. Those places were open pretty late, right? Plus a private room would make it a lot harder to get caught.
The area the two of you ended up in was a location slightly outside of town, which you recognized as not being too far from Shinichiro’s shop - the now-closed small convenience store was the same one that Mikey had been dragging you past just two weeks earlier. This was definitely a more uptown area compared to where the bike shop was, you noted, the stores though all closed at this hour were steadily getting larger and more luxurious the further you and Koko strolled down deserted streets.
“It’s so quiet,” you found yourself musing out loud, earning a soft exhale from the other.
You rarely venture to this part of Tokyo City, it being well out of your usual sphere of life with good reason, though even with the handful of visits under your belt, the difference between day and night was still starkly visible. A flood of business suits and their occupants busy on the phone, with the rare occasional student weaving their way through the crowd, these streets were hardly catered to a younger audience, the prices well out of the range of what any student could afford, and you would assume the same, even more so in fact at night. The last thing you would expect to find here would be a karaoke, but perhaps you simply missed it before.
“This way,” Koko tugged you through an unassuming door, tucked neatly between two shopfronts and one you would have completely glazed over. Up a dimly lit stairway and with a light knock from your friend, the well-worn steel door opened to reveal a backdrop of high ceilings and a chandelier, framing an elegantly-dressed lady ushering the two of you in, the door swinging shut behind you with a quiet click. You felt your jaw dragging across the floor, eyes glancing around and taking in as much as you could. What even was this place?
Shiny, polished granite floors sparkled with specks of yellow reflected from the dim lights above, the walls trimmed tastefully with gold and decorated with flourished wallpapers. The crystal vase in which an enormous bouquet of flowers had been professionally arranged, atop a spotless dark wood counter, combined with the staff here wearing full suits, was all rather intimidating.
Vaguely noting Koko saying something to the lady who had welcomed you at the door, his words blending into the soft classical background music, you were only grounded by the fact that your hand was still laced with his as you shrunk shyly behind him. Needless to say, you felt extremely out-of-place, dressed in nothing more than your usual outing attire having expected a simple date. Were they going to kick you out?
Not just yet fortunately, as you were led down a velvet-walled hallway instead, lined with doors that ran the entire length, before being ushered into the room right at the end. Koko had stepped into the booth first, holding the door open as you quickly followed suit, and much to your relief, the inside looked similar enough to a regular karaoke room. Letting out a sigh of relief, you settled on the sofa, patting the area next to you. “I thought it was going to be so different,” you admitted, snuggling in close to Koko as he sat down next to you. “The outside looks so fancy.”
Said boy laughed, shaking his head as he leaned over to grab two microphones off their stands. “I thought it would be better since it's unlikely you’ll be found here.” By your Toman friends, that is.
“Not that I don’t like it,” you hastily added, accepting the device from Koko. “It’s lovely, thank you. And I doubt they know this place even exists.”
“No way,” the financier rolled his eyes, earning a giggle from you. That goes without saying. “Come on, pick a song, I’ll order us some drinks.”
Time slipped through your fingers, the minutes flying by without your notice. Though you barely had a sip of alcohol (Koko refused to let you have any more than a taste of his cocktail), you were sure that you were giddy enough from giggling the entire time, your newest plushie sitting snug on your lap.
”I still can’t believe you managed to nail that song!” You laughed out, lightly tapping on the black-haired boy’s arm as you carefully stepped across the curb. “I sounded completely off, I swear.”
“No way,” Koko disagreed, a tinge of red brushed across both cheeks as his gaze fell away from yours, though from the alcohol or otherwise, you couldn’t quite tell. He has had several drinks, after all. “You were great.”
Definitely the alcohol, you mused to yourself, squeezing his hand lightly as you gracefully ignored his voice trailing-off. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight, Koko.” And you meant it - with everything that had been going on at home and with the Toman boys, you truly did need this break from the hum and drum of regular life, even if you didn’t know it before. “I really had fun.”
No response, and none was needed, the other only returning the squeeze of your hand, face still turned away from yours. Strolling down the quiet street, it was late into the night, way past the time that you were usually already tucked into bed, your lights turned off and usually accompanied by one (or more) of the Toman founders. Yet your life these past months have been anything but usual, and having been unable to see Koko without getting him into unmeasurable amounts of trouble that would most likely end up with him in the hospital, you did miss him dearly. You will deal with the consequences of a lack of sleep tomorrow, you determined.
The music of yester-hours still buzzing in your ears and a hum under your breath, it would have been a perfect ending to your night if all the excitement ended there.
“Hey assfaces!”
A sudden loud voice from behind that reverberated across the silent night had you jump a foot into the air like a startled cat, and you whirled around to locate the source of the disturbance. Koko, though, seemed barely bothered, his light tugs at your hand urging you to keep walking before trouble found the two of you. Too little, too late; your paths were quickly being blocked by several punks with aggressive hairstyles that you quickly identified as delinquents, though they didn’t seem to have a uniform of any sort, with the attire consisting of a mix of ruffled school uniforms and streetwear. “Strolling through my territory, huh?!”
Your heart skipped a beat - did they know who you were? Were they looking for Koko? No, that couldn’t be it. You decided that being friendly couldn’t go wrong, maybe it’s just a case of mistaken identity. “Hello,” you greeted. “Can we help you?”
A jeer rippled through the crowd in response, and you shrunk back. That was obviously the wrong move. Worse still, your voice seemed to have triggered a memory recall. “I’ve seen you somewhere before,” the seeming group leader muttered, squinting as he leaned in towards you.
The grip Koko had on your hand tightened ever so slightly even as the expression on said boy’s face remained relaxed, almost as if bored. He must have gone through this multiple times, you reckoned, as you tried to shift away from the other.
“Ah,” the recognition settled into the other’s eyes as he pushed his face into your personal space, and you recoiled at the spit flying out from his mouth at you. “It's the shitbag always hanging off of Mikey, aren’t ya you little thing?”
Uh oh.
Another wave of sneering washed through the gang, though this time, the scorn was audible.
“I got beaten up by those Toman fuckers last week!” “One of them burned my bike!” “He stole my lunch!”
Your heart dropped into your gut. Fuck. You never thought you would be recognized.
The head delinquent’s smirk only grew larger as the displeasure boiled over into calls for Toman’s death, and he made to grab at your arm. “You’re quite the cute thing. Those fuckers have good taste. I think I’ll have some fun fir-”
A loud crack! - and you whirled around to the sight of a delinquent crumpling to the ground, clearly having lost consciousness. And there was Koko, calmly withdrawing his fist, simply not having the disrespect. “I rather you pick on someone your own size,” he stated, as if it was another usual day.
Time seemed to have frozen for a second, with the rest of the delinquents present turning almost robotically to glance between Koko and their downed buddy, the moment bringing with it an unexpected peace. But alas, it did not last as pandemonium quickly broke back out, the hoodlums sent into an uproar. “I WANT BOTH OF THEM DEAD!” The gang leader roared.
Koko shoved you. “Run!” He yelled, as he started beating down whoever he could reach. “Get to safety!”
You took off, drawing half the crowd with you, that distinctive side-swept mob of black hair quickly disappearing behind a wall. Fuck.
Shit shit shit- your feet were all but flying over the pavement at this point as you sprinted down the street as fast as you could, taking random rights and lefts in an attempt to shake off your pursuers. But alas, enraged delinquents weren’t as easy to lose as you had hoped, and the stomp of their boots echoing behind you only ate away at your gut more and more. The light of the streetlamps overhead flashed and disappeared as you bolted through each and every circle of illumination, the environment all but a blur - you were sure you were completely lost at this point, though all your mind was urging you to just keep running.
What on earth were you going to do now? What could you do?
Your thoughts wandered back to Koko whom you had abandoned on the main street as you took another shark right, and your heart clenched, the guilt already starting to gnaw away at your gut. The last glimpse you had, he had been surrounded by so many of those fierce delinquents; yes, he had taken one of those builds down easily, but with opponents of such numbers? Maybe you should have stayed, but you didn’t want Koko to have to not only fight but also watch over a useless you. And, you tried to reason, with you running off, you at least have managed to draw some of the crowd away to chase after you.
But now that you were on the run, easily recognized by the self-declared rivals of the Tokyo Manji Gang, you were no doubt only creating more trouble for Mikey and the rest of your friends. No matter what you decided, no matter what you did, you only seemed to drag more and more people you claim to care about into the mess that was your life.
Turning down yet another side alley, your lungs were beginning to burn from effort, every breath you took becoming heavier and heavier as your calves yearned for relief. You couldn’t recall the last time you had to assert such consistent effort, but you urged yourself on, forcing yourself past your limits as the adrenaline rush slowly ebbed away. You needed a place to hide and rest, somewhere safe - but where could you go?
Bursting out back onto a main street, it was a familiar white awning that caught the corner of your eye, and though now folded up, you could recognize the partially hidden words and logo anywhere. S.S Motor…you weren’t sure if anyone was still in the shop at this time of night, but it wasn’t like you really had any other choice now. The white awning was calling to you as if it was your salvation as you closed the distance in under a minute, slamming straight into the locked front door. Damn. The door wasn’t going to give way no matter the amount of desperate rattling, and you should have known better, yet here you were, wasting precious time.
Letting go of the worn brass handle, it was the bloodthirsty calls for your blood growing nearer and nearer, accompanied by thunderous footsteps, that had you hesitate to leave the minute safety that the indent of the shop doors allowed you, with each precious second passing decreasing the amount you would have had to continue your escape. But even if you wanted to, your body was already at the point of giving up - you were physically incapable of running any further, your legs urging you to give up as you doubled over, pressing your hands against your knees in a bid to catch your breath. This was it, you supposed. You were going to make more trouble for Mikey and the rest, and probably get beat up in the process.
You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and turned around. No, this was not the end. You weren’t going to give up so easily and disgrace your Toman friends here. You had fists just like them after all, you could at least put up some resistance.
The click of a lock opening had relief that flooded into your system when your name was called by a recognizable name. Looking down at you with furrowed abyss eyes was none other than Shinichiro, that signature bluish-gray overalls of his tied still around his waist, spanner in hand. “What ya doing here at this time?”
”Chased,” was all you could hurriedly say in the time you had, as you glanced backwards at a roar that sounded just a turn away. “CanIcomeinplease?”
Shinichiro seemed to understand almost immediately. “Hide and call the police,” he grimaced, holding the door open and allowing you duck in under his arm. But much to your surprise, the older man didn’t follow you inside, instead stepping outside to block the path and line of sight of the horde of delinquents who have finally caught up to you. “Can I help you?”
Scurrying behind a motorcycle and rolling up into a ball in an attempt to make yourself smaller, your shaking hands could barely grasp your small phone without almost instantly dropping it, and you struggled to make sense of the keypad through teary eyes as you followed the commotion outside through the commotion alone, scared to give any visible indication of your presence to the angry gangsters outside.
Demands for Shinichiro to step aside, to bring you out to them, the threats of death and torture, and all the while the man was attempting to calm the mob and diffuse the situation. He was depending on you, you tried to tell yourself, finally punching in the emergency hotline, the dialing and connecting noises sounding as if they were echoing through the whole shop and not just in your ear, as if those ruthless hooligans outside could hear.
But they must have sensed your panic, your fear like a predator in the dark woods. A scuffle, and your heart sank like an anchor as a loud clunk rang out through the dead silence of the night, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. Grabbing the nearest tool, you flung yourself out from your hiding spot, and sprinted towards the shop exit.
Your hands were still shaking as the blue and red lights of emergency responders illuminated the once-quiet neighborhood around you, the foil blanket that the paramedics had wrapped around you doing little to stop the cold from seeping in. Seated just outside of the parameter of the yellow crime scene tape that now lined the parameter of S.S Motor, you barely registered the policeman attempting to talk to you to get your witness statement, his words flowing like water past you, reverberating into an inaudible distant mess in your head. Those lifeless eyes were all you could see, that accusatory stare that haunted you no matter how hard you tried to push it away. The ambulance had already taken your victim away, the first responders claiming that he was still breathing and that they could still save him, but Shinichiro-san?
He was already cold when the first sirens arrived.
And it was in this broken state that Mikey finally stumbled across you, his phone gripped tight in one hand. Black, empty eyes wide with what could only be shock as he took in the chaos that had unfolded outside of his older brother’s shop, his gaze eventually falling on you, a trembling and responseless form on the sidewalk, a splatter of blood across your once-pristine clothes. In an instant, the Toman President had pulled you to your feet and straight into a tight hug, your face pressed tight into the crook of his neck, much to the surprise of the officer.
He didn’t need to say more. The last of whatever control you had left fell apart, and the tears trailed down your face, the hiccups uncontrollable. “M-mikey,” you wailed into his skin, your fingers gripping the back of his shirt as the past hour flashed in the back of your eyes. “I-I’m-”
“What happened?” The blond-haired boy’s hair was soft, hoarse, the disbelief clearly tinting his words. It couldn’t be Shinichiro underneath that cover, could it? It couldn’t be. But that call, this scene.
“I killed him,” you whispered out, pulling away, as you looked back down at your trembling hands. “H-he attacked Shinichiro-san, so I…I-”
There was only one covered body, yet two weapons. Mikey pulled away, eyes staring at you, trying to read your thoughts. You couldn’t have killed Shinichiro-san; so who?
Those five minutes were burned into your mind. You standing from behind the motorbike to find one of the delinquents with a blood-splattered steel pipe in hand, and Shinichiro sprawled out on the pavement right in front of his shop, the blood trickling down the side of his head; something washing over you as you had grabbed the heavy wrench with two hands and bursting through the shop doors, swinging the tool with all your might. The connecting blow that reverberated through your bones, and the other continuing to stand for a moment longer, swaying, staring blankly at you before crumpling to the floor. The rest of the ruffians dispersed as the authorities approached, leaving you behind trying desperately to administer first aid and CPR to Shinichiro, all the while fervently trying to ignore the other boy downed by your hand.
“I killed him,” you mumbled again, your voice haunted as the tears flowed once more. “I-I didn’t mean to- I swear-”
But the last thing Mikey could care about now was some nobody. “What happened to Shinichiro?” He repeated, this time more firmly, both hands gripping you and pinning your arms to your side. “Why him?”
“Protecting me. Th-they’ve seen me with Toman…”
Mikey audibly snarled. “And why were you here? Why aren’t you at home?!” The boy all but shouted at you, shaking you vigorously. You couldn’t blame him. It was all your fault.
Your mind jumped to Koko, where you had left him fighting that group of gangsters back along the shopping street. You couldn’t get another into trouble - not when you had committed the ultimate scene. And with the turmoil boiling in your stomach, you did something you never thought you had the stomach to. The tears started once more as you pressed your face into Mikey’s jacket, fist clenching around the white fabric. “Was looking for a job so I-I can move out,” the lie slipped out from your lips, each word burning your tongue as you mumbled out. “Th-they said they pay well.”
A murderer. You thought you would be better, better than the clusterfuck that was your family. You had tried to be better, striving to be kind, thoughtful, open-hearted. Yet here you were, you thought bitterly. The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.
The policeman seemed to have heard enough, one strong hand coming to rest on your shoulder as the other shook Mikey off of you. “You need to come with me to the station.”
A liar and a murderer.
#tokyo revengers#yandere tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#yandere tokyo revengers x reader#mikey x reader#baji x reader#mitsuya x reader#kazutora x reader#pah chin x reader#mitsuya takashi#draken x reader#kazutora#sano manjiro#keisuke baji#draken#kokonoi hajime#kokonoi x reader#shinichiro#inupi seishu#shion madarame#yandere platonic mikey#cheesus drabbles
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omg your könig posts just heal me. how do you think he’d deal w/ someone who just gets sad a lot?
He’s just awful!
König has braved an eternal winter his whole life. He knows what depression feels like, knows how sadness and badness can creep in even during your happiest moments. Considers that he’s already met the demiurge and is punished with an everlasting purgatory.
And König also knows loneliness intimately. He never had an arm around him those nights he spent curled in his bed sobbing far away from where any eyes could see. His “comfort” came in the form of demands from both internally and externally; his father’s voice always rung out far above the rest. Be stronger. More of a man.
With you, a part of him breaks.
Because despite knowing these things down to the marrow, helping with them has never been a skill of his. He can kill a man in seconds, ram through a door with practiced posture in less than a minute, but helping you when you’re sad is entirely foreign to him.
It’s hell entirely, because you’re sad so often. He does what a good lover should: fetches you gifts and food, holds you tight, buries you in nothing but words he deems sweet enough (even if they’re a bit crude).
And often you don’t want any of it.
You shutdown when he hovers and badgers, always pleading with you to explain what’s wrong. You’re curling into yourself, facing away when he tries his best to pull you in. Sometimes it’s an aggressive sort of love — forcing you into his lap and holding your face while you cry your little heart out, dragging you out of the house to sit in the sun while you babble about your woes (or even lack of, really, he just wants something to go off of), and an abundance of unsolicited advice as to what may help your mental state (as though he himself has not ghosted every poor therapist he's ever had). The gifts only increase and your every need is taken care of as though you were physically ill.
He’s aware enough to know that he’s being a total nuisance, too. He expects you to lash out, tell him to stop his pestering and coddling. And König would even enjoy your anger, because it’s something other than being sad and withdrawn. All of this only stems from what he felt he may have needed when he was a pitiful, lonely boy.
So, he holds you close, pampers you like the finest treasure, speaks softer and chooses his words a little better. There are no threats of hours of unhinged sex now, but he’s still a pervert: offers to lick you to take your mind off of whatever is going on. It’s a good distraction, he’s certain, because a wank in the barracks usually does aid him when you’re apart and that sadness creeps its way in.
And more often than not, he’ll question if it’s he who caused all of this. He’s not a good man, never pretends to be. He’s brutish and socially stunted in ways only seen in feral people or beasts in myth. König won’t ask for reassurance directly, very rarely wants you to see him seeming so vulnerable and small, but it’s evident how this growing aching reflects your own. The confessions of love come tenfold, not just for you, but because he needs to hear you say them too.
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His Story (Jeremiah x MC)
Warning: None
Pairing: Jeremiah x Reader , Xavier x Reader
Tags: Light Angst, Unrequited Love
It was already late. You and Jeremiah had been waiting for Xavier. Xavier asked you to wait at Philos, and so here you are, trying to coax Jeremiah to tell you a story to ease the boredom.
"Come on, Jeremiah. Any story will do. Horror, comedy, drama, love story, it doesn't matter. Just please tell me a story."
"Can you just play with your phone or something?" Jeremiah asked in exasperation. He really didn't mind listening to any of your requests, but he was a bad storyteller. And he wasn't even sure what story to tell. Unlike Xavier, he was not a massive book reader. He had a lot of books, yet they remained untouched for hundreds of years.
"I already did, and I'm still bored," you stubbornly said.
"Fine," Jeremiah sighed in defeat. "I don't know what story to tell, though."
"Come on, I'm sure you can think of something good. I mean, Xavier can do it despite his stories being really bad," you said with a small chuckle.
Jeremiah laughed and relented. "Fine. I have an idea of what to tell now."
You looked at him excitedly. "I'm listening."
A small, sad smile appeared on his lips. And then, he began:
"This story is about my friend. He was goofy, cheerful, friendly, and a little full of himself. He was liked by everyone despite that, though.
One day, he went to this school. And there, he met the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. At least at that time, he thought she was the most beautiful woman. He befriended the woman and realized that she's not only beautiful but also very kind and caring. He fell in love with her. She's the love of his life, his sweetheart, his queen.
But one day, the lady introduced him to someone else. Another guy. A guy who was much more handsome, much stronger, much calmer, and above all, a prince.
He was everything that he wasn't, and the guy couldn't help but feel hopeless and defeated.
He also noticed the way she looked at the princely man. A gaze full of love and adoration. He was sure she didn't realize it, but he knew. He knew because that was how he also looked at her. What made him more hopeless was the way the princely man also looked at her. Right at that moment, he knew. He knew that the feeling was mutual. He knew that they both loved each other.
He had to make the hardest decision: to step back. Because he knew that the other guy was the man who could make her happy. At least that was what he thought until he noticed how he was treating her. No, the other guy was not treating her badly. It was just that it seemed like she was not his first priority. He always disappeared for long periods of time without telling her, and she obediently waited for him. Whenever that happened, he second-guessed his decision to give way.
Maybe this was not the right choice. Maybe he should have at least fought for her? And yet, whenever he saw her eyes light up whenever the other guy appeared, he would think that maybe this was how it was supposed to be.
For years, the cycle happened continuously: he'd disappear, she'd wait, he'd return. Every time it happened, he would stay beside her, listen to her complaints, and give snarky remarks or insult the other guy in return.
As time passed, the young man's feelings for the woman remained unchanged. Despite the pain of watching her with another, he couldn't deny the love he harbored within his heart. Yet, he continued to hide his true emotions, burying them beneath a facade of friendship and support.
And then, the prince disappeared again, this time, for much, much longer.
No one knew where he was, and everyone had already given up on him. Most of them thought he would never return. And yet, the lady remained, waiting for him. The other guy decided to stay by her side even though it hurt him. Seeing the woman he loves pining for another man is painful, but for him, it would be more painful to see her face the loneliness alone. And so, he stayed at her side.
And one fateful day, the prince returned again. This time, he seemed different. He was more determined about something that only he was aware of.
The other guy then finally talked to the prince. And then, the prince finally confessed what was going on.
Let's just say it has something to do with saving the life of the woman they both love. Determined, he decided to join the prince in his quest to save their beloved's life, making a sacrifice of leaving the woman where she would be safe.
Jeremiah ended the story and looked at you.
"That's kind of sad," you said, looking back at him. "Did your friend and the prince manage to save her?"
Jeremiah smiled a little. "Not yet. They're still working on it."
"Oh. So... Your friend still loves her even up until now?"
Jeremiah chuckled. "Well, no one could change his love for her, but he realized that the prince loves her more than he loves her. In the end, he met another woman named Bella and dated her. But of course, he is still determined to save the life of his first love."
You smiled. "He seems nice."
Jeremiah smiled back. "Nah. He's a shitty guy."
Just then, a light beam covered the area as Xavier appeared.
Jeremiah sighed. "You promised to use the door instead of teleporting, Xavier."
Xavier apologized with a deadpan expression and turned to you before smiling and offering a hand.
"Let's go home?"
You smiled and took his hand. "Yeah," you said and turned to Jeremiah. "Bye, Jeremiah, and thank you for telling me the story. I hope your friend finds the happiness he deserves."
Xavier looked questioningly, but you only gave him a secretive smile.
Jeremiah smiled and nodded. "Yeah. Me too."
As Xavier and you disappeared, Jeremiah let out a defeated sigh. "As long as you're happy, I'll be happy, my queen."
END
MASTERLIST
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Would you be willing to elaborate on your bi label and how it relates to your aroaceness? I think I faintly grasp what you mean, but I'd like to hear more from you.
Yeah I literally love talking about my thoughts and opinions!
I'm gonna take each orientation in turn, starting with asexuality cause it's the most concrete & defined in my head. I don't feel sexual attraction to anyone, and I don't ever have an explicit desire for sex. I consider myself sex-neutral, which is to say I don't mind sex, but it's not particularly compelling to me. It's about as interesting as scrolling instagram (regardless of partner - i'm pretty sure I've had both "good" and "bad" sex and it's all just slightly boring to me). I do sometimes have sex with people if we already have an established relationship and I trust them, but it's pretty much always in service of another goal for me - getting emotionally closer to them, doing something nice for them, maintaining a healthy relationship, getting cuddles for myself, etc. I don't dislike sex but it's not something I miss when it's out of my life.
OK next aro - this is probably the part of my identity that's hardest to wrap my head around, but the label feels right at the moment so i'm keeping it for now. I don't know if I feel romantic attraction to people or not, because I can't tell the difference between the feelings I feel for my friends and the feelings I feel for a partner (this is probably why every partner I've had was my friend first lol). In a lot of ways, I feel like my feelings for my friends are much stronger than most alloromantics'. One friend said the other day that he would take a bullet for his partner, but not his friend, but I would take a bullet for my friends instantly. I love them deeply and I care about how those relationships are going just as much as I care about how a romantic relationship is going. I also don't feel particularly compelled to have a partner, though it might be nice. As long as I have a strong network of friends I can rely on, a partner is just a bonus. But I don't mind having partners so even though I'm not actively looking to date, if someone wants to date me i'm not necessarily opposed to it (though obviously we have to be compatible - sexual/romantic attraction is just not part of that compatibility equation for me).
So with all that said we come to bi - this is probably the simplest part of my identity & it's just that I would date and/or have sex with people of all genders. I think women, men, and others are all handsome & pretty & cute. I'm just not sexually or romantically attracted to them inherently. If we've got a good vibe though, I don't have a gender preference for people I date or sleep with.
Does that answer your question?
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ghosts - batman: haunted knight
[ID: A multi panel sequence of Bruce Wayne as a child on Halloween. He's dressed up in a Mask of Zorro costume and is excitedly running down the stairs while holding two swords, calling out for his mother happily. He tells her that he's ready to go trick or treating. Martha Wayne has her hand on his shoulder and is smiling as she tells him, “your costume looks great!” Bruce replies, “Thanks, I made it myself. Alfred sorta helped. Is dad home yet?” Martha draws her hand back hesitantly and says his name. Bruce already knows that that means there's bad news. He tells her, “don't tell me,” before she continues and says his father called. Bruce has his head down, angrily finishing her sentence, “he's gotta work late!” He looks out the window as if his father will appear and says, “It's not fair! He promised he would take me trick or treating!” Martha soothes that she knows as Bruce repeats, “he promised,” to himself disappointedly. She tells him, “But there was an emergency,” which makes Bruce snap, “There's always some emergency!”
Bruce continues to stand in front of the window as Martha looks at him. Bruce announces, “I'm gonna wait for him. Even if it takes all night!” as he tensely clenches the handle of his sword. Martha reaches out for him sadly and suggests, “Bruce, I could take you out myself. Or, we can call some of the other children at school and go out with them.” Bruce, as an adult, somberly says off panel that, “she doesn't know...” as his kid self stares out the window still. His hat casting a small shadow on his face as he tells her, “There are no other kids to call. I have no friends at school.” Martha says his name again but doesn't know how to comfort him. Instead, she just silently places a hand on his shoulder. We see a silhouette from far away of her standing next to him as Bruce waits for his father to eventually come home. END ID]
#hey do you ever think about bruce's childhood and feel your chest hurt#like even before the murders. just how lonely he was a boy and how that loneliness only grew after watching his entire life and people he#had be ripped away from him. sure he had alfred but his entire life and world was contained to that big scary house that was suddenly so#much emptier. the constant reminders and seeing what was once there and triggering it again and again and again ontop of ptsd and ocd...#also martha?? love her. hes the biggest mama's boy you cant change my mind.#<- again using this tag because if thomas worked a lot and bruce obviously didn't have friends to go out with#then the only person he ever actually talked to and interacted with was his mother and alfred#the man hired to care about you and the woman who gave birth to you. thus that attachment being stronger#but also the 'people have to be trapped to want to be around me'... a man hired to be your friend and take care of you...#ur own parents not wanting to/avoiding that responsibility and involvement.... yeah.#anyways ! happy halloween !! heres a child being disappointed !#bruce wayne#baby brucie#crypt's panels#c: batman: haunted knight | ghosts#martha wayne#bruce & martha#bruce's childhood
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how do u like ur toast? i’m bored as hell and will do literally anything but draw. lemme know which and why, and what do u put on it (if u do)
#honestly i will literally do anything but draw#these past few months ive been doing…idk if u can like#call it self care or what#but i been tryna eat a lil better and move a lot more#so i been playing basketball#not like a match or whatever bc idk shit#and then lifting weights and running#bro i swear to god i have weights in my room now#kirishima are u proud of me#ive also been looking to join some kickboxing classes#literally doing anything BUT draw#HAAHHAHSHHFHFH#but HEY!!! im stronger than before now#and i wanna learn how to punch a bitch and make it hurt yanno#and hopefully one day i will be able to lift my weight and more#god i rly do wanna go back to drawing tho#but i do wanna keep on playing bball#and still lift weights#and theres just so little time like why do i have to choose like this#i also wanna be good at dancing#listen theres just so much i wanna do now#i miss drawing#this looks like an ad ngl
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How I sleep understanding my favorite villain's personality and backstory and why they work so well while also throwing key aspects of it away for the benefit of my own indulgences btw ^_^
#📡 incoming transmission 📡#once again talking about frieza. mostly. their backstory and direct mirroring of goku's is the strongest in the series#they never had to life a finger for anything ever and thats the point#but.... sometimes a guy has certain needs and urges#i also mess with buu and cell but thats after they died so i can do whatever. like introducing a character for them to bounce off of#is one thing but changing their backstory is another. do you see it? i dont think i need to do that to tell a meaningful story#for frieza however i do not want them 'going soft' for anyone ever. i want them to have been soft from the very beginning#that's a lot stronger to me. what if they cared? what if they cared so much. what then.#any other changes i make to characters i like esp villains is more... well. where can we go from here buddy?#and less What would happen if your backstory was a moved a little bit to the left. it just genuinely depends on what works best ^^#self insert#selfshipping#f/o#selfship#self ship#also bc its driving me up the wall:#me whenever i tell you that frieza cannot be enjoyed separately from their femininity and poise so frieza with a square jaw means nothing#and cell was hard for me to grasp but the truth is that the more human she became the scarier she got.#like another false sense of familiarity almost#and buu is all over the place because buu is buu and makes little to no logical sense#this has nothing to do with the post. sometimes i just like to sound smart#and as a proof that i do know frieza plenty well i just love to fuck with them and make them care for someone
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kinda drives me up a wall when people go "hey i think x action in a war/combat scenario is inhumane and cruel and shitty" and someone responds with "oh but within the laws of war it's allowed or there's procedure for it etc etc". it doesn't have to be a war crime to be unforgivable man it's a shitty rulebook anyway
#like whether or not something's bad isn't determined by whether or not it adheres to arbitrary rules people made up and never obey#i thought we all knew that already. c'mon man. get a grip#obviously war crimes are bad but that's not where the badness potential ends y'know#this post is due to my dad talking about smth i sent him mentioning US troops firing on a bunch of guys in smth on deserters and he was lik#well they're not like citizens or refugees or deserters they're retreating enemy combattants. so it's different.#it IS different but isn't it still like. overly brutal? idk.#like would you want them to pursue Your ppl regardless? are they not allowed mercy just because you proved stronger? your positions could#be swapped easily and you'd think that as fellow combattants you would feel that deeply. idk maybe i'm just too soft or whatever but like.#seems stupid to me. war generally seems stupid to me but this specifically right now seems stupid to me#yes i know there are practical concerns and sacrifices in combat that make sense when you're actually there and me saying there should be n#wars and we should make it a fucking priority to not have wars doesn't mean ppl already in a decision-making role in the field should do#what i (an idealist) would do. they're responsible for minimizing loss and shit. whatever. doesn't mean it's not fucked up anyway.#and that's assuming the best case scenario for a leader in such a position. usually they just want to minimize Their side's losses. usually#by maximizing the other side's. or they just want to win and will sacrifice anyone for it if it's practical#which happens a Lot. usually it's a mix of the latter two to my understanding#as if americans' lives matter more than anyone else's and the other side doesn't have a right to mourn bc they offended us somehow#ugh that shit irks me so bad dude. there'll be like a terrorist attack in europe or smth and the news'll be like#ONE AMERICAN WAS KILLED. and twenty swiss. THE AMERICAN WAS VISITING FAMILY THERE ON SUNDAY MORNING WHEN TRAGEDY STRUCK etc etc#fucking hate that. i don't care if they're on 'my team' or whatever they're all equally human and equally dead#why the hell should i care if one of them was an american. just say 21 people died. like i get reporting on it briefly ig to like notify#ppl At Best but like. it's so grating. why can't you be normal about other people fucking goddamn you#why is this a controversial statement. why is giving a shit about people killing each other (often for like 10 ppl's financial gain) wrong#like. come on. i don't care if they 'deserve it' or whatever because i don't think they do. and even if they Did i don't think it's#America's Time To Step Up!!! every time smth like this happens (but only when it is financially beneficial to us to do so#such that we ignore atrocities all the fucking time bc it's inconvenient. we're not superheros. we're cops.)#not saying america shouldn't do anything bc like. idk. you screw everyone over to have all the power maybe you should use that influence fo#good. but my definition of 'good' is wayyyy way different from everybody who's ever held office here apparently so like. nuts to that#eugh. anyway im cutting myself off here rant over. for now
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oh my god. i just got an ad that said that you can lose weight better if you let out your pent up emotions. once you have a good cry you can finally start 'slimming down.' someone fucking help me. what in the pop psychology. like. ok. i don't really have anything extremely articulate to say right now but i just. come on. that's like a whole new level of just blatantly taking advantage of people's poor emotional state and body image. because at this point people are at least a little more aware of how harmful diet culture is, so now we're hiding behind this veil of being wholesome and self aware. we're not like the other diets because we care about you, so now we're weaponizing this culture of mindfulness and surface level mental health to take advantage of you and get your money. i. like maybe i'm reading too much into this but ohhhh boy did that make me angry to see on my dash just now. anyways i hope you're doing ok and i love you and please i hope you are loving yourself as well in the new year <3
#boink#look im not gonna claim to be an expert on health and shit#but i just think that that's a horribly malicious and intentionally manipulative thing to be putting out#like oh your exercise isn't making you lose weight the way you want#so buy our program and cry and then you'll lose weight?#it's healthier for you?#fuck that#ive always been self conscious about exercising and stuff bc im not small#im not thin and im not athetlic and i feel like thats not for me#and its taken me a long time to sort of be ok with and love my body#and its still hard for me to engage in that bc i still feel like i dont fit#i want to go to the gym and i want to do sports but bc people are shitty a lot of the time#ive sort of spent a lot of time being in those spaces and just not feeling super comfy there#and you know what#what's helped has been acknowledging that im doing it for myself#not for anyone else#not for people to be more comfortable looking at my body#but because i want to take care of myself and that is independent of my weight#and of others perceptions of me#i can go for a run bc it makes me stronger and i dont care if i lose weight or not because thats not what its about#and just#like a lot of people i know what its like to be in a very emotionally charged state#and to have that be connected to the way i perceive myself and my body and my worth#and again. it's just so shitty to take advantage of that#so openly i think too is why this was so. fjjs idk.#you know#anyway#sorry vent over ig lollll
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i understand that the way language arts is taught makes the whole study of literature and narratives and themes and such seem like a boring, pointless endeavor. but it is so important to me and my sanity that you pay attention to the information presented to you in those classes. because it is integral. you will never be able to approach art in any form and come to your own, unadulterated conclusions and interpretations. you will not recognize propaganda when it is being spoonfed to you. and you will not understand that yes, the messages of the media and the art you consume do in fact subtly change your psyche and that’s why you can’t just blindly consume shit
#like you know the whole argument with the blue curtains example. 'the blue curtains symbolize the character's sadness' vs#'the curtains are fucking curtains.'#<- that latter viewpoint upsets me soooo fucking much because like oh my god you are missing the point#perhaps the author or the artist or whatever did not intentionally include blue curtains to symbolize sadness#in fact it's pretty likely that it wasn't intentional at all because that's just how creating art works#the POINT is you can draw out details to support the overall themes and messages and make them stronger and come to your own conclusions#different people will hone in on different details. that's the beauty of art.#you don't need any sort of 'correct' interpretation spoonfed to you and you should not expect it#so like. yeah the curtains might just be fucking curtains but how does approaching them as a Symbol affect our understanding of the story?#does the character open the curtains to let in the sunshine - thus freeing themself from their sadness?#or do they close the curtains and hide in the dark - trapping themself in the same miserable cycles?#sometimes things are just things to populate the empty spaces of a story and you don't necessarily need to think about them#but you Can think about them and that will make your experience all the more richer.#anyway.this whole thing means like a fucking lot to me 😂#i'm pursuing the career i am without caring about the difficulties and the dangers because i want to do what i can to be like.#a good fucking high school language arts teacher. and to properly impart the value and the IMPORTANCE of these lessons.
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Ahh I’m so excited to see what’s cooking up with former heroes especially bc I know some of the things that bothered you with season 3 were some of the plot points I have the most so I’m excited to see how you change them. Also I’m excited to see the rise of Joyce Byers, love triangle fiancée who is on fire ! (And hopefully not with a hopper that was s3 Hopper) Robin and Steve still scooping maybe?? Nancy and Mike being peak siblings and also Lucas hopefully getting some time shine.
Also I was wondering you hand any sneak peeks available for the Bodyswap AU or the Vampires+Steve pt3 fic!!
Hello hello nonny!
First and most importantly, I am fistbumping you through the computer screen over season 3. I'm really hopeful that this AU version is going to be satisfying, and avoid the major issues I had with season 3 without being unrecognisable from the canon. While I was considering what changes to make and how, I tried to tie it back more meaningfully to the themes of seasons 1 and 2, and I'm pleased with how that's coming through in the outline so far. Hopefully it'll work in the finished product! (Also, I can promise considerably more Peak Sibling Nonsense, and considerably less of season 3 Hopper. Although I am not making any promises at this time on the matter of dumb teenage romance bullshit.)
Also, because you asked so nicely, from the third and (hopefully) final chapter of don't let the sun go down on me:
“Did you hear? They found the Byers kid.”
Steve doesn’t have any kind of a response to that, beyond a blank stare. It’s too fucking early in the morning for how fucking early in the morning it is. He was up way too late last night, again, thanks to Nancy and Jonathan. The last thing he’s prepared to process is Tommy Hagan’s weird enthusiasm about knowing some piece of gossip Steve doesn’t.
Ordinarily, Steve wouldn’t rise to the bait. He’d play it cool, like he doesn’t actually care. Tommy will fill him in eventually, whether he cares or not.
But ordinarily, Tommy isn’t casually dropping a bombshell that could decide the future of Steve’s sanity. If they’ve found Will Byers – then there’s no reason left for Nancy and Jonathan to stick around. “What? Where?”
Tommy’s shit-eating grin gets even wider, and he slings an arm around Steve’s shoulders, steering them both deeper into the crowded, noisy halls. “Floating facedown in the quarry. Sounds like maybe whatever took a swipe at you decided to go after easier prey.”
Tommy keeps talking, but Steve barely hears him. There’s a weird roaring buzz rising in his ears, drowning out all but the pitch and cadence of Tommy’s voice. Suddenly, the crowded hallway is suffocating.
Steve barely manages to mumble out some halfassed excuse before shrugging off Tommy’s arm and breaking for the bathroom. He tries not to look like he’s running. He doesn’t know if he’s succeeding.
He’s no sooner made it into a stall than he’s hitting his knees on the grotty tile floor, clutching the porcelain bowl as his hasty breakfast makes a surprise reappearance. That bagel hadn’t tasted like anything special on the way down. It’s not improved the second time around.
When his stomach seems to be finished turning itself inside out, Steve sits back on his heels, coughing out the last lingering flecks of vomit as he wonders what the hell just happened. It’s not like he ever actually met Will Byers. Or like he’s known Jonathan for more than two days. And Steve had spent part of one of those days thinking Jonathan was a murderer.
Except. He’d been so angry when he’d thought Jonathan was a murderer. Like Jonathan had personally betrayed him. Steve’s not sure what that means. If it means anything. He’s not sure he wants to think too much about it.
Whether or not Steve actually cares about Jonathan Byers and how hurt he’s going to be by this, though – still. Still. That’s a kid. Will is just – was just a little kid. And – Steve’s memory, unhelpfully, decides to play him the highlight reel of that monster’s teeth, his dad telling him there were bites missing, Tommy saying easier prey, the excruciating pain in Steve’s stomach where the monster had slashed him open –
He wonders, with fresh horror, whether that thing got Will while Jonathan and Nancy were busy taking care of him. Even though that timeline doesn’t make any sense, he still has to dry-heave over the toilet again.
“Stevie?”
It’s the last voice Steve wants to hear right now. He groans as he twists to look over his shoulder at Tommy, and it’s only half exasperation.
Tommy ignores him. “Hey, man, you okay?”
“You look like shit,” Carol says, with a pop of her ever-present gum, following Tommy into the boys’ bathroom like she belongs there. “Rough night last night, Steve-o?”
She’s giving Steve an out. A way to save face. He flashes her a grateful smile, and hopes he doesn’t have bits of upchucked bagel stuck in his teeth. “Guess I must still be hung over.”
“Aww,” Carol tuts, with a sarcastic pout, as Tommy leans over to offer Steve a hand up off the disgusting floor. “And you didn’t invite us?”
“Hey, I know what’ll make you feel better,” Tommy announces, like he’s about to put a man on the moon. “We skip first period and hit the diner. Get you something hot and greasy to fill that bottomless pit.” He thwaps the back of one hand against Steve’s stomach with a grin.
Steve’s stomach gives another lurch. He swallows bile.
“Thanks, man,” he says, when he trusts himself enough to open his mouth. “But the diner’s been closed since Monday, remember? The owner killed himself?”
Tommy’s face falls. Steve swallows around a stab of guilt. Tommy’s his friend. He’s trying to help.
He just – he has no fucking clue what Steve’s gotten himself into this time. Neither he or Carol do.
And it’s gotta stay that way.
“Good idea, though,” Steve offers, an olive branch. “Skipping. Think I’m gonna ditch for the day.”
Tommy doesn’t totally lose the kicked-puppy look, but he does try for a smile. “You want us to tell Sanderberg you’re out sick? Sorry, sir, he was throwing up all morning,” he says, to the absent first-period teacher, voice pitched up and eyes wide in a mockery of innocence.
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Steve says, knowing Tommy will at least get a kick out of winding up the notoriously suspicious Mr. Sanderberg. “Thanks, man.”
“Don’t mention it,” Tommy says, slapping Steve on the back just a little too hard.
“Are you actually sick?” Carol asks, or maybe ‘demands’ is a better word. “You’re acting weird lately.”
Steve forces a smile, hoping it doesn’t look too much like a grimace, as he shuffles over to the sinks to rinse out his mouth. “Nah. Told you. I’m just hung over. Gonna head home and sleep it off.”
Carol, in the mirror behind his head, does not look convinced. But she doesn’t say anything more, either.
Steve does feel a little bad about leaving her and Tommy behind, as he heads out to the parking lot and his car. But they’d never understand. They’d never believe him. Hell, in the cold, bright light of day, Steve barely believes himself.
And, he thinks, as he peels out of the high school lot, there’s no way he could bring Tommy and Carol with him where he knows he has to go now.
#chatter#this is mary's fic tag#stranger things#figuring out that the themes of seasons 1 and 2 included both 'what happens when love becomes stronger than fear'#AND 'things are not always as they seem'#really brought it all together imo and I do have to thank season four for providing me with clarity on that front#(also a bit of plot inspiration which I have blatantly stolen)#writing the vampire fic at the moment feels kind of like speeding down an icy hill in a car that is on fire#we're going somewhere and we're going FAST and things keep happening! but if I am not careful to keep in control#the wheels are going to come off#I think it is going to need a lot of editing to turn what made it onto the page into something that has the impact it had in my head#sometimes you get possessed by an idea that is SO COOL that you forget not everybody can see all the cool parts inside your brain#and you write it down very very fast and then have to give it a little while to cool off before you can look at it with a stranger's eyes#and go 'oh yeah I totally forgot to explain why that bit matters didn't I'
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#i do not want to work tomorrow i want to lay in bed and be sad#i’m really realizing how miserable of a person i am i am always fucking Sad and when i do feel happy i cry when it’s over#and i can’t even resemble a human being without medication and i know that’s fine but i’m still always sad. it doesn’t go away#i feel like nobody deserves to have me weighing them down like i’ve cried in front of people three times this week and i know it’s fine#but i feel so fucking guilty about it and i feel guilty about everything i feel like i’m doing nothing right and i’m not dealing with thing#right and i’m not living right and i feel like it must be so fucking difficult to love me and i don’t know how people do it#i don’t even feel capable of asking for. any sort of love ever#i feel like i don’t deserve like anything. i feel like nobody actually wants to do things for me lol#every single dsy i’m like wow i want to be held and every single dsy i feel bad even asking for a hug from someone#when i need reassurance i’m afraid to ask because what if i’m just being annoying and overbearing and too much Bad#i never feel like too much good. only bad.#i know a lot of these shitty thoughts are just because i’ve been unmedicated (meds will be ready tomorrow lol) but it just like#it sucks to know medication just kinda hides these thoughts better and that deep down i feel like this because i don’t want to#i feel like everyone in my life doesn’t deserve someone who doubts everything all the time#i think my mother deserved a stronger daughter and i think my friends deserve someone that’s not always breaking and i just don’t feel Good#i don’t know why anyone keeps me around#sometimes i feel selfish for sticking around and that sounds so awful and i’m not gonna act on it but i just feel like a waste of a person#the last week has been so good and now i’m just a fucking mess and i feel so fucking guilty about that :)#i feel like no matter what i always just default to miserable#i don’t feel like i’m doing enough at all#i’m struggling in school i don’t work enough i can barely take care of myself#like i wouldn’t even properly take care of myself if taylor wasn’t helping me i feel so guilty about that all the time#i feel so guilty for even thinking any of this right now and i’m trying to remind myself that i’m unmedicated and i’ve had a long day#and my best fucking friend just went back home and i’m allowed to be sad about that but i just. feel like i’m making excuses i guess#it’s not immoral to be sad but maybe when i’m wanting to die all the time i’m the problem. idk#anyway i’m gonna go to sleep and i’m gonna try to convince myself tomorrow will be better#sndnsksjkakejdkalwosjhdkwosjdjsk. i will be fine
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i get blamed for fucking everthing literally the other day he pushed me out of the way and hurt me and i wasnt even doing anything that time but i was STILL blamed when i told my mom
#the most she tells him is 'youre a lot stronger than your sister' but like. yeah he fucking Knows that. what makes you think its by ACCIDENT#he is trying to hurt me on purpose. dumb fucking bitch#but its stupid to expect her to care when she hurts me too so. whatever
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our girl — j.m & r.c.
pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader x rafe cameron
warnings: smut 18+, violence, polyamorous relationship, threesome, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), possessiveness, degradation, praise, fingering, hair pulling, creampie, squirting, spitting, kelce and topper walking in lol
word count: 2.6k
summary: your boyfriends show their possessive side when they see someone flirting with you at a party.
a/n: based on a lucid dream i had. i died while writing this
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“You want another drink?” Sarah asked, downing what was left of her drink in one gulp. “No thanks, I’m gonna look for Rafe and JJ actually, haven’t seen them yet” you replied, your surroundings slightly spinning as you were already feeling pretty intoxicated. You smiled briefly at Sarah before walking away from the pool and heading inside Rafe’s house, the music of the party increasing.
It’s been a few months since you started dating your boyfriends— yes, boyfriends, because both of them were too obsessed with you so they decided to share you, treating you like their princess. It was intense sometimes, especially at the beginning when they had to get used to one another. Besides, a lot of people had various opinions on your relationship, but you still felt thankful and privileged to have boyfriends who were so sweet and caring. Especially considering that many girls would die to be in your position. Tonight is another one of Rafe’s parties, inviting all his kook friends as well as some pogues since JJ insisted on his friends being invited too.
You walked inside the crowded house full of intoxicated people and kissing couples, trying to find them. You glanced around, seeing many familiar faces but not your boyfriends. Just as you turned to go into another room, your arm was suddenly grabbed firmly. “Hey, beautiful.” you felt relieved, thinking it must’ve been Rafe or JJ when you realised you didn’t recognise the voice. You turned around in confusion and saw a blonde frat-looking guy check you out with a smirk on his face and a red cup in his hand. His blue eyes were fully fixed on you with a cocky smile on his face.
“Do I know you?” you asked, brows knitted together in confusion as you tried your best to refresh your memory, afraid that your intoxicated state made you forget who he was. “I’m Ryan. I used to hang out with Rafe, you know, back when he used to fuck a different girl every week” he said with a chuckle as you arched an eyebrow, unsure why he would bring that up. His smile vanished at the sight of your serious expression, before continuing, “Anyway… you want a drink, sweetheart?” he asked, motioning towards the drinks table. You gazed at him, wondering if he was aware of the dangerous game he was playing.
“No, thank you. I have to g-“ you started but he quickly cut you off, “Oh, come on! You think I’m scared of your boyfriends? One drink won’t hurt, loosen up a bit” he argued before he dragged you to the drinks table. You attempted to break free from his hold, but you were too intoxicated to react quickly and he was way stronger than you, clearly taking advantage of the situation.
“Here you go.” he said, handing you a new drink as you looked at it nervously. When he noticed your anxious expression he slid a hand around your waist as he came closer to you. “Hey, hey, don’t worry. Just wanna get to know my friend’s girlfriend, that’s all. I respect Rafe, you know.” he explained, easily convincing you in your drunken state as you took the cup from him with a relieved smile.
“So, tell me about-“ he started before being interrupted in an instant when his name was called, “Ryan!” You peeked around Ryan’s towering frame and saw Rafe and JJ making their way to you. Ryan instantly took his hand off your waist and went from having a relaxed stance to one that was stiff and nervous. Rafe had a menacing smile on his face as he eyed Ryan and JJ walked next to him, toying with the toothpick in his mouth.
“I see you’ve met our girlfriend.” Rafe said, standing just inches away from you two. “Such a pretty little thing, hm?” JJ added with a cheeky grin, clearly not taking the poor guy seriously. “Yeah man, we just talked about… stuff. She-she’s nice” he stammered, evidently nervous. Rafe nodded with a downward smile on his face and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “I see, I see…”. “Look man, nothing happened, okay? We just talked, that’s it.” Ryan spoke up, trying his hardest to explain himself while JJ and Rafe exchanged glances, before giving each other a nod. “Fucking dumbass.” JJ sneered under his breath as he walked over to you, an arm sliding around your waist as he placed a kiss on top of your head.
“I understand man, no worries.” Rafe reassured before placing his arm over Ryan’s shoulder, “Let’s catch up outside, hmm? We haven’t spoken in so long, lots to talk about.” Rafe said as he led Ryan outside, making you turn to face JJ with a worried expression on your face. “What’s he going to do with him, J?” you asked, your brows knitted in concern. “Sssh, don’t worry about it, baby. He’s just gonna ask him to leave, that’s all.” he reassured, taking the toothpick out of his mouth and moving his head closer before pressing his lips on yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth as you were heavily making out against the table, causing you to forget about everything else. You were so caught up in the moment that it took you a while to eventually pull away from JJ as he gazed down at you with a loving smile on his face.
When you glanced over JJ’s shoulder, you gasped as your eyes widened and your jaw dropped. Rafe leaned over Ryan, who was on the ground, repeatedly punching him until blood was everywhere. “JJ!” you yelled in horror while pointing at the scene. “Oh, fuck” JJ muttered, not necessarily because of Rafe beating him up, but because of you witnessing it. He quickly spun you around so your back was facing the scene before cupping your face in his hands and desperately kissing you again in an attempt to distract you. You instinctively wrapped your arms around JJ’s neck, your intoxicated state causing you to forget about the situation again and only feeling hungry for JJ as you pressed him closer to you. His hands already found your ass as he squeezed it, not giving a fuck about anyone watching.
“My room. Now” Rafe ordered as he suddenly walked past you both, causing you to pull away from JJ as you watched Rafe climb the stairs. JJ grabbed your hand as he smirked at you, “You heard him, princess. Let’s go.” he said, pulling you along and leading you upstairs.
“Am I… Am I in trouble? you asked with a soft voice, following JJ in the hallway as you passed several kissing couples. JJ chuckled as he held the door handle to Rafe’s room. “I think we both know the answer to that.” he replied, making you gulp for a moment as he opened the door.
Rafe stood in the centre of the room, his arms folded with an angry expression on his face. Rafe's intimidating frame was accentuated by the lack of light in the room, as only a few red LED lights provided illumination. Even though JJ shut the door behind him, there was still a faint sound of shouting and music coming from downstairs through the walls. “Rafe, listen, I-“ Rafe interrupted you as soon as you attempted to explain, “We do the talking here, alright?” Rafe growled as JJ joined him, standing next to him as both of them eyed you while you walked to the bed, sitting down to relieve your sore feet from the heels you were wearing.
“You didn’t have to beat him up Rafe, I swear he didn’t do anything! He just offered me a drink and-“ you stopped when you heard both of them chuckle, looking at each other before gazing down at you. “I think our girl is a little confused, whatcha think J?” Rafe smirked while approaching you. “Nah, you’re right man. I think she forgot who she belongs to.” JJ agreed, nodding as he watched Rafe walk towards you.
Rafe bent down to get at eye level with you, then aggressively gripped your face, forcing you to look at him. “Two boyfriends is not enough for you? Hmm? God, you’re such a dirty little slut.” You were too afraid to speak as you gazed up at him. “Open that pretty mouth of yours” Rafe ordered and you obliged, opening your mouth widely before Rafe spit in it, “Swallow.” You swallowed while keeping your eyes on him, faces mere inches away from each other. A satisfied smile swept across Rafe’s face as he released his grip on your face, “Good girl.”
Rafe then moved aside, allowing JJ to approach you. JJ wasted no time and pushed you onto the bed, caging you in before planting sloppy kissing all over your neck and undressing you simultaneously, causing you to moan. “Tsk, what a dumb girl we have, Rafe.” he growled, sliding the straps of your dress down your arms before fully taking it off, leaving you in just your underwear. “But so fucking beautiful.” JJ took in your beauty with hungry eyes while biting his lip. He then discarded you of your underwear as well, tossing them across the room. “Make Rafe feel good, baby.”
JJ pushed himself off you while Rafe completely undressed himself, his fully erect cock leaking precum causing anticipation to rage through your body. He looked so beautiful— the red light accentuating the muscles on his body as he gazed down at you with dark eyes. He got on the bed, sitting against the bedframe before he grabbed your hair and pulled you towards him. “Be a good girl and suck.”
You drew your head nearer, licking up the precum and swirling your tongue around the tip, earning a groan from him. He impatiently pushed your head down, forcing you down his cock. His hand grabbed your hair in a ponytail, preventing it from falling in your face as he bobbed your head up and down. “Fuck, just like that.” Rafe groaned as JJ slapped you on the ass, causing you to jolt forward.
“Our pretty girl.” JJ praised while he teased your entrance with his fingers, gathering the wetness and drawing circles on your clit. You moaned around Rafe’s cock, only egging him on as he bucked his hips upwards, causing you to gag. JJ then inserted two fingers into you with ease, as far as they could go. “So fucking wet for us.” JJ curled his fingers up inside you, pushing against your g-spot, causing your eyes to flutter shut as you let out a loud moan around Rafe’s cock once again. Rafe now grabbed your head with both hands, fully face-fucking you, using you as his personal toy, while JJ’s fingers increased their speed, causing your orgasm to approach.
“Cum around my fingers, sweet girl. Make a fucking mess.” JJ’s words pushed you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you as you felt wetness all over. “Holy fuck, she squirted everywhere” JJ exclaimed, a chuckle leaving his mouth before he licked his fingers clean. “Dirty girl” Rafe groaned, his voice low and raspy as he continued to fuck your face.
You then heard the buckle of a belt behind you, and not much later you felt JJ’s cock teasing your folds, before fully pushing himself in. “Still so tight, fuck.” He groaned before setting a steady rhythm that made you grip the sheets. The sensation was almost becoming too much— the way JJ’s cock hit your g-spot repeatedly and Rafe fucking into your mouth, saliva running down your face.
Just as you were about to come, the door suddenly swung open, the music and yelling from downstairs filling the room. JJ's thrusts came to a half when all of you looked to your side as your eyes began to widen. “Hey, Rafe, you got some- No fucking way.” “Goddamn.” Both Kelce and Topper stood in the doorway, a smirk on both their faces as they eyed every inch of your body. “Well, this is awkward.” JJ uttered as his lips tightened into a thin line. An irritated sigh left Rafe’s mouth as he rolled his eyes, “Get the fuck out before I fucking kill both of you!” He shouted, Kelce and Topper snickering when they left the room and shut the door behind them.
“Now, where were we?” JJ asked before abruptly slamming into you again, causing you to fall forward on Rafe’s chest. “Hey, hey,” Rafe took hold of your head, pulling it up with both hands as he raised his eyebrows at you, “Did I say you could stop sucking? Don’t think so.” He pushed you back on his cock with his hand behind your head, guiding you. You could feel JJ’s thrusts getting sloppy and lose rhythm, knowing he was close. “Fuck, gonna cum so deep inside this pretty pussy.” he growled before painting your walls with his warm cum, his hands firmly gripping your hips. You could feel his sperm dripping onto the bed as soon as he pulled out.
Rafe shoved you off him, causing you to look at him with a questioning expression, given that he hasn’t cum yet. “ Wanna cum inside that tight pussy of yours, filling you with both our cum.” he said as he stood up and flipped you over, causing a small squeal to leave your mouth as you were lying on your back. He grabbed your legs and spread them wider before spitting on your cunt and pushing into you in one quick thrust, making you scream out his name loudly. He immediately set a relentless pace, gripping your waist as he pounded into you while grunting, your tits bouncing to his rhythm.
“Doing so well for us, princess” JJ praised as he sat next to you, grabbing your face and kissing you passionately with his other hand massaging your boobs. You moaned into JJ’s mouth as Rafe placed your legs over his shoulders, reaching even deeper parts inside of you. “You wanna cum?” Rafe asked as you nodded, your eyes closed as your vision became blurry, “Then fucking beg for it.” “P-please, let me cum. I need to!” JJ chuckled as his hand slowly travelled to your core, drawing fast circles on your clit. “You hear that, Rafe? Our poor girl needs to cum.” Rafe groaned as he increased his speed and placed quick kisses on your legs. “Then let’s help her.”
JJ’s fingers quickened their speed as he marked your neck in hickeys, causing you to grip his arm hard, your nails leaving crescent shapes in his skin and Rafe was close to coming too, his cock hitting all the right spots inside of you. “Gonna cum for us, sweet girl?” JJ whispered into your ear and you could only nod, unable to speak. “Gonna fill you up so fucking good, like the dirty whore you are.” Rafe groaned before his orgasm struck, filling you to the brim with his warmth. You came not long after that, walls fluttering around Rafe’s cock as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, the grip on JJ’s arm tightening. “Just like that, princess. Good girl” JJ praised as you came down from your high, chest heaving up and down as you tried to catch your breath.
Rafe pulled out slowly and bent down to place soft kisses on your cunt before getting dressed immediately, causing you to look at him with a confused expression. “Be right back. J, take good care of our girl.” He instructed before exiting the room. “Yes, sir!” JJ replied jokingly before shifting his attention back to you. “W-where is he going?” you stuttered, still feeling disoriented due to your orgasm. “Probably killing Kelce and Topper for walking in and seeing you. You know how he gets.” JJ shrugged as he picked you up bridal style before you could say anything else, taking you to the bathroom, “Don’t worry about it. Come on, lemme take care of our pretty girl.”
reblogs and comments are very much appreciated !!
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#❥ ari's works#rafe cameron#jj maybank#rafe cameron smut#jj maybank smut#rafe cameron x fem!reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x female reader#jj maybank x fem!reader#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x you#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x female reader#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfiction#jj maybank fanfic#jj maybank fic#jj maybank fanfiction#rafe cameron imagine#jj maybank imagine#outer banks#obx#outer banks smut#obx smut
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