static on your arms
Title: static on your arms
Pairing: Suho/Kai, eventual other pairings
Rating: G for now, possibly R in future
Genre: The Mortal Instuments!au, angst
Length: 2096 for now (est. 15-20k)
Summary/Warnings: character death, mild violence
Junmyeon merely chuckles when his daughter slumps onto the coach, groaning as she whines about training exercises. He feels somewhat for Jia; he knows how exhausting it is all too well and even when you think you’ve got something down, there’s more to learn. His husband is nowhere in sight and Jia is just mumbling incoherently.
He gets up and heads to the kitchen, grinning when he finds the bar of chocolate he keeps hidden from his husband. The younger disapproves of sweet things despite being a baby himself but Jia shares his sweet tooth and they keep their secret trysts with the mundane delicacy hidden from his spouse. Jia looks up when she hears the snap of the chocolate bar, grinning victoriously when she sees Junmyeon.
“What about dad?” He settles next to her on the sofa and she curls into his side, long hair everywhere (and all he feels is pride towards his daughter. Pride and an immense happiness that nothing can compare to).
He gives her a piece of chocolate, popping one into his own. “It’s our secret Jia.”
“You’re making me feel like a kid again daddy!” She says it around her mouth of chocolate and Junmyeon refrains from telling her she has chocolate stained teeth.
“You’ll always be my little girl Jia, you know that. You are our only child and after your dad, sometimes before him actually, you are my happiness. How was training?”
She groans audibly, hiding her face in his shirt as Junmyeon strokes her hair.
“Horrible. I think Gabriel was trying to force us through the kama sutra without the sex part.”
Junmyeon cracks up, clapping his hands together and jostling his daughter. “That does sound like torture. How were the others?”
She sighs against him, almost melting into his side and his arm comes around her shoulder to cradle her close. “They’re okay too,” She pauses, looking into her father’s eyes, her eyes, before plucking up the courage to continue “They’re all better than me.”
“Nonsense!” Junmyeon interrupts, playing with stray strands of her dark hair between his fingers. “You’re going to be one of the most talented Shadowhunters of the century and do you want to know why?” His daughter gazes up at him expectantly before he leans down to whisper by her ear.
“Because you’re my daughter.” He plays it off as a joke but deep down Junmyeon knows that one day she will be a powerful Shadowhunter; she could be the Inquisitor if she wanted it. Maybe even the Consul. Jia playfully bats at her father’s arms as he attempts to pull her closer, peppering her forehead with kisses because he knows how much she secretly loves all the attention, also because he really doesn’t show her enough how much he really cares for her.
A parents love for their child is truly unconditional, but Junmyeon’s love for Jia stretches further than that, because she’s not really his own. He would fight for her, stand for her, die for her. He nearly did once, a long time ago.
“There’s this... group of people? Valentine Morgenstern is the head of it and they’re all the best Shadowhunters. Especially Valentine. He speaks too much about how we need change.”
Junmyeon watches as she stumbles over her words, his precious little Jia. (He has to remind himself she's sixteen now and he's...not as young as he used to be.) “He’s weird, I don’t like him.”
She pouts a little on the last statement, arms coming up to fold over her chest in a sign of defiance. It reminds Junmyeon so much of his husband when he was younger that there are no qualms over who Jia takes after.
“You don’t have to like everyone,” Junmyeon murmurs, nimble fingers twisting Jia’s hair into a braid. “That’s not your job.”
“I don’t want to be left behind daddy.” Her voice is petulant now, and it warms the core of Junmyeon’s soul.
“As long and we’re still together, you’ll never be left behind.” Jia looks marginally pleased, stealing a melting piece of chocolate from him.
“Hey-”
“Thanks appa.” Her voice muffled by the chocolate and hidden behind a grin. Junmyeon smiles because really, he can never deny Jia what she wants. The last time around (two days ago), Jia had wanted a broadsword and he’d gotten it for her.
Much to the disapproval of his husband.
("Women of this age are allowed to fight, yes, but I hardly think you want Jia to go around stabbing people with that thing." Junmyeon had placated the raven-haired man with several kisses before his resolve crumbled, assuring him that Jia was responsible enough.)
“One day all this training, this hard work, everything you do is going to count. You could stop a war,” or start one. The words hang in the air, unsaid and Jia visibly shudders. He pets her shoulder comfortingly; let’s not talk about this now.
“Hey daddy, tell me a story.”
“Hmm?” He undoes the braid, twisting her hair into a fishtail instead.
“I’ve seen our family names in the Codex. I’ve never read it before, it seems too complicated but it concerns The Accords and the Kim family too. Not yours. Dad's. They say it’s more fae law than anything else and The Codex only contains excerpts. And according to Gabriel, some other family’s line ended with what you did.”
Junmyeon regards Jia with careful eyes; there is still so much his princess is sheltered from and yet she deserves the right to know. She has to know in fact; what if she runs across the same thing one day?
“The story isn’t a happy one. It’s filled with deceit, Downworlders, unrequited love and it doesn’t exactly have a happy ending either. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
Jia stills beneath his touch and brings her head to rest on his lap while his fingers card through her locks, styling and restyling the delicate strands in patterns his mother used to wear.
“I’m sure.” She whispers, eyes half closed and breathing even.
Junmyeon knows she might not stay awake through the whole thing but the laws of reality blur between the lines of the story almost as if it were a dream so it was probably a plus that her body was still exhausted from training. Much of the story was gory and Junmyeon’s heart aches thinking about it.
About the love lost. (And gained, there was definitely love gained but everything else overwhelmed the few good things that came out from it.)
“It all started about twenty years ago, around the same time grandpa and grandma took over the Beijing Institute...”
part i: deadly. dangerous. hot.
“So what’s the Inquisitor’s son like?” Jongin glances up from sharpening his kindjal, watching Sehun nook an arrow and draw his bow. Inhale, exhale and the younger releases it, face breaking into a smile when it splits the previous arrow in half.
“I only know his name, Sehun. It’s Junmyeon with skin like those Irish fey and hair like a bloodsucker’s next meal. And he’s no longer the Inquisitor’s son.” He tosses the kindjal from hand to hand; daggers are meant for people with cunning, people who can organise their thoughts and strike precisely. People like him.
Jongin likes to think that Sehun and him make the perfect pair; Sehub is impulsive during fights and he’s more collected. More collected and easily rattled, the one time he cried over killing his first werewolf fresh in his mind. Jongin was big in stature, small in mind. And Sehun was his counter balance.
“We’re still going to be considered second to him until we go to Idris, which is like, never?” Sehun nooks another arrow and Jongin hums in acquiesce, picking up a few seraph blades.
“Ambriel.” The flare of the seraph blade is welcoming, the initial burn uncomfortable but after so long, they start to feel like an extension you know? Jongin doesn’t know why he’s naming them, he’s just hoping maybe they can get out of the Institute and do something, put all the training to use.
The door creaks open and Sehun whirls around, arrow let loose. There’s the thud of an object hitting wood and a shocked gasp escapes a really nice pair of lips and Sehun wants to know how anyone could look that angelic.
“I’m Kim Junmyeon and I’d appreciate if you didn’t try to stick an arrow between my eyes next time.” Junmyeon’s smile looks genial but there’s an undertone of hostility, a reminder Junmyeon was born and bred in Idris. Sehun instantly turns contrite and Jongin wants to laugh at the way his best friend acutely resembles a goldfish but Junmyeon’s there. Watching.
“Kim Jongin, and this is Oh Sehun.” Jongin watched as Junmyeon sizes them up, probably calculating how long it would take for him to have them on their asses using the contents of his leather jacket and the arrow now protruding from the wooden archway. They always were trained better in Idris. Sehun raised a hand warily in greeting and Junmyeon acknowledged it with a tilt of his head. The sunlight drifts through dusty windows and sets Junmyeon’s hair alight- not literally, but with the effect it had on Jongin, it might as well have been.
“Pleasure to finally meet you.” And Jongin really means it because wow. As far as first impressions go, Junmyeon sure leaves a lasting one.
Junmyeon has a build like Sehun; lean, and built for speed but Jongin is used to Sehun, has grown up with Sehun. Now there’s a Junmyeon in the equation and he doesn’t know where Junmyeon is going to fit into a friendship ten years in the making. He seems like he’ll do well though. All the Idris born Shadowhunters never have problems with making a name for themselves.
“Likewise,” Junmyeon mutters, inspecting the weapons room in all its dust covered antique glory. Dust collects on his fingertips as he traced the handles of axes and blades of scimitars, ancient weapons still smeared with age old demon blood, trophies. His eyes lit up with wonder when he reached a particularly tarnished broadsword; Morgernstern star decorating it’s hilt and Jongin watched in amazement as Junmyeon hefted it off its mounting on the wall, testing the balance of the blade in both hands before grabbing the hilt with both and swinging it down in an arch...
Slicing off the left arm of their practice dummy.
Sehun lets out a small gasp and it’s there that Jongin can see Junmyeon is no one to mess with despite his smile and his small stature, that getting between Junmyeon and something he wants could actually mean death. It’s always the Idris ones, the real “bad boys” in the block.
“Don’t fuck with me.” He’s grinning when he says that, all cheery as fuck like he didn’t just display how he could decapitate both Jongin and Sehun.
They’re still slack jawed when Junmyeon turns and leaves the weapons room, letting the rusted blade fall to the floor with a clang. Sehun doesn’t talk until Junmyeon’s footsteps are a distant echo in the stone corridors.
“Don’t fuck with me? Really? Ha! Who does this guy think he is?” He storms angrily over to the sword on the stone tile and lifts the steel onto the mount with ease. Jongin can see the ‘I’m still the best’ grin on his face and decides that he’s not going to make Sehun aware that he didn’t slice the limbs off any inanimate objects like their newest addition did with a broadsword that looked almost double his weight, and anyway, everyone knows that Sehun’s ridiculously strong when it comes to this sort of thing.
Yet Jongin can’t stop his mind drifting back to the way Junmyeon’s arms looked, sword raised above him; lithe muscles bulging under skin, poised to strike. Deadly. Dangerous. Hot.
It’s in that moment that Jongin realises as much as Junmyeon is a prick, he wants to know why Junmyeon is a prick. He wants to get under Junmyeon’s skin (and he wouldn’t mind losing a few limbs in the process if it meant toughening him up a little).
“Do you want to ask him to follow us when we go tracking later?” Sehun looks at Jongin like he’s mad.
“Fuck if you want to get your head cut off, go ahead, be my guest Kim.” Sehun pulls out the arrow from the arch, collects the broken ones, tossing all of them into a corner.
Pairing: Suho/Kai, eventual other pairings
Rating: G for now, possibly R in future
Genre: The Mortal Instuments!au, angst
Length: 2096 for now (est. 15-20k)
Summary/Warnings: character death, mild violence
Junmyeon merely chuckles when his daughter slumps onto the coach, groaning as she whines about training exercises. He feels somewhat for Jia; he knows how exhausting it is all too well and even when you think you’ve got something down, there’s more to learn. His husband is nowhere in sight and Jia is just mumbling incoherently.
He gets up and heads to the kitchen, grinning when he finds the bar of chocolate he keeps hidden from his husband. The younger disapproves of sweet things despite being a baby himself but Jia shares his sweet tooth and they keep their secret trysts with the mundane delicacy hidden from his spouse. Jia looks up when she hears the snap of the chocolate bar, grinning victoriously when she sees Junmyeon.
“What about dad?” He settles next to her on the sofa and she curls into his side, long hair everywhere (and all he feels is pride towards his daughter. Pride and an immense happiness that nothing can compare to).
He gives her a piece of chocolate, popping one into his own. “It’s our secret Jia.”
“You’re making me feel like a kid again daddy!” She says it around her mouth of chocolate and Junmyeon refrains from telling her she has chocolate stained teeth.
“You’ll always be my little girl Jia, you know that. You are our only child and after your dad, sometimes before him actually, you are my happiness. How was training?”
She groans audibly, hiding her face in his shirt as Junmyeon strokes her hair.
“Horrible. I think Gabriel was trying to force us through the kama sutra without the sex part.”
Junmyeon cracks up, clapping his hands together and jostling his daughter. “That does sound like torture. How were the others?”
She sighs against him, almost melting into his side and his arm comes around her shoulder to cradle her close. “They’re okay too,” She pauses, looking into her father’s eyes, her eyes, before plucking up the courage to continue “They’re all better than me.”
“Nonsense!” Junmyeon interrupts, playing with stray strands of her dark hair between his fingers. “You’re going to be one of the most talented Shadowhunters of the century and do you want to know why?” His daughter gazes up at him expectantly before he leans down to whisper by her ear.
“Because you’re my daughter.” He plays it off as a joke but deep down Junmyeon knows that one day she will be a powerful Shadowhunter; she could be the Inquisitor if she wanted it. Maybe even the Consul. Jia playfully bats at her father’s arms as he attempts to pull her closer, peppering her forehead with kisses because he knows how much she secretly loves all the attention, also because he really doesn’t show her enough how much he really cares for her.
A parents love for their child is truly unconditional, but Junmyeon’s love for Jia stretches further than that, because she’s not really his own. He would fight for her, stand for her, die for her. He nearly did once, a long time ago.
“There’s this... group of people? Valentine Morgenstern is the head of it and they’re all the best Shadowhunters. Especially Valentine. He speaks too much about how we need change.”
Junmyeon watches as she stumbles over her words, his precious little Jia. (He has to remind himself she's sixteen now and he's...not as young as he used to be.) “He’s weird, I don’t like him.”
She pouts a little on the last statement, arms coming up to fold over her chest in a sign of defiance. It reminds Junmyeon so much of his husband when he was younger that there are no qualms over who Jia takes after.
“You don’t have to like everyone,” Junmyeon murmurs, nimble fingers twisting Jia’s hair into a braid. “That’s not your job.”
“I don’t want to be left behind daddy.” Her voice is petulant now, and it warms the core of Junmyeon’s soul.
“As long and we’re still together, you’ll never be left behind.” Jia looks marginally pleased, stealing a melting piece of chocolate from him.
“Hey-”
“Thanks appa.” Her voice muffled by the chocolate and hidden behind a grin. Junmyeon smiles because really, he can never deny Jia what she wants. The last time around (two days ago), Jia had wanted a broadsword and he’d gotten it for her.
Much to the disapproval of his husband.
("Women of this age are allowed to fight, yes, but I hardly think you want Jia to go around stabbing people with that thing." Junmyeon had placated the raven-haired man with several kisses before his resolve crumbled, assuring him that Jia was responsible enough.)
“One day all this training, this hard work, everything you do is going to count. You could stop a war,” or start one. The words hang in the air, unsaid and Jia visibly shudders. He pets her shoulder comfortingly; let’s not talk about this now.
“Hey daddy, tell me a story.”
“Hmm?” He undoes the braid, twisting her hair into a fishtail instead.
“I’ve seen our family names in the Codex. I’ve never read it before, it seems too complicated but it concerns The Accords and the Kim family too. Not yours. Dad's. They say it’s more fae law than anything else and The Codex only contains excerpts. And according to Gabriel, some other family’s line ended with what you did.”
Junmyeon regards Jia with careful eyes; there is still so much his princess is sheltered from and yet she deserves the right to know. She has to know in fact; what if she runs across the same thing one day?
“The story isn’t a happy one. It’s filled with deceit, Downworlders, unrequited love and it doesn’t exactly have a happy ending either. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
Jia stills beneath his touch and brings her head to rest on his lap while his fingers card through her locks, styling and restyling the delicate strands in patterns his mother used to wear.
“I’m sure.” She whispers, eyes half closed and breathing even.
Junmyeon knows she might not stay awake through the whole thing but the laws of reality blur between the lines of the story almost as if it were a dream so it was probably a plus that her body was still exhausted from training. Much of the story was gory and Junmyeon’s heart aches thinking about it.
About the love lost. (And gained, there was definitely love gained but everything else overwhelmed the few good things that came out from it.)
“It all started about twenty years ago, around the same time grandpa and grandma took over the Beijing Institute...”
part i: deadly. dangerous. hot.
“So what’s the Inquisitor’s son like?” Jongin glances up from sharpening his kindjal, watching Sehun nook an arrow and draw his bow. Inhale, exhale and the younger releases it, face breaking into a smile when it splits the previous arrow in half.
“I only know his name, Sehun. It’s Junmyeon with skin like those Irish fey and hair like a bloodsucker’s next meal. And he’s no longer the Inquisitor’s son.” He tosses the kindjal from hand to hand; daggers are meant for people with cunning, people who can organise their thoughts and strike precisely. People like him.
Jongin likes to think that Sehun and him make the perfect pair; Sehub is impulsive during fights and he’s more collected. More collected and easily rattled, the one time he cried over killing his first werewolf fresh in his mind. Jongin was big in stature, small in mind. And Sehun was his counter balance.
“We’re still going to be considered second to him until we go to Idris, which is like, never?” Sehun nooks another arrow and Jongin hums in acquiesce, picking up a few seraph blades.
“Ambriel.” The flare of the seraph blade is welcoming, the initial burn uncomfortable but after so long, they start to feel like an extension you know? Jongin doesn’t know why he’s naming them, he’s just hoping maybe they can get out of the Institute and do something, put all the training to use.
The door creaks open and Sehun whirls around, arrow let loose. There’s the thud of an object hitting wood and a shocked gasp escapes a really nice pair of lips and Sehun wants to know how anyone could look that angelic.
“I’m Kim Junmyeon and I’d appreciate if you didn’t try to stick an arrow between my eyes next time.” Junmyeon’s smile looks genial but there’s an undertone of hostility, a reminder Junmyeon was born and bred in Idris. Sehun instantly turns contrite and Jongin wants to laugh at the way his best friend acutely resembles a goldfish but Junmyeon’s there. Watching.
“Kim Jongin, and this is Oh Sehun.” Jongin watched as Junmyeon sizes them up, probably calculating how long it would take for him to have them on their asses using the contents of his leather jacket and the arrow now protruding from the wooden archway. They always were trained better in Idris. Sehun raised a hand warily in greeting and Junmyeon acknowledged it with a tilt of his head. The sunlight drifts through dusty windows and sets Junmyeon’s hair alight- not literally, but with the effect it had on Jongin, it might as well have been.
“Pleasure to finally meet you.” And Jongin really means it because wow. As far as first impressions go, Junmyeon sure leaves a lasting one.
Junmyeon has a build like Sehun; lean, and built for speed but Jongin is used to Sehun, has grown up with Sehun. Now there’s a Junmyeon in the equation and he doesn’t know where Junmyeon is going to fit into a friendship ten years in the making. He seems like he’ll do well though. All the Idris born Shadowhunters never have problems with making a name for themselves.
“Likewise,” Junmyeon mutters, inspecting the weapons room in all its dust covered antique glory. Dust collects on his fingertips as he traced the handles of axes and blades of scimitars, ancient weapons still smeared with age old demon blood, trophies. His eyes lit up with wonder when he reached a particularly tarnished broadsword; Morgernstern star decorating it’s hilt and Jongin watched in amazement as Junmyeon hefted it off its mounting on the wall, testing the balance of the blade in both hands before grabbing the hilt with both and swinging it down in an arch...
Slicing off the left arm of their practice dummy.
Sehun lets out a small gasp and it’s there that Jongin can see Junmyeon is no one to mess with despite his smile and his small stature, that getting between Junmyeon and something he wants could actually mean death. It’s always the Idris ones, the real “bad boys” in the block.
“Don’t fuck with me.” He’s grinning when he says that, all cheery as fuck like he didn’t just display how he could decapitate both Jongin and Sehun.
They’re still slack jawed when Junmyeon turns and leaves the weapons room, letting the rusted blade fall to the floor with a clang. Sehun doesn’t talk until Junmyeon’s footsteps are a distant echo in the stone corridors.
“Don’t fuck with me? Really? Ha! Who does this guy think he is?” He storms angrily over to the sword on the stone tile and lifts the steel onto the mount with ease. Jongin can see the ‘I’m still the best’ grin on his face and decides that he’s not going to make Sehun aware that he didn’t slice the limbs off any inanimate objects like their newest addition did with a broadsword that looked almost double his weight, and anyway, everyone knows that Sehun’s ridiculously strong when it comes to this sort of thing.
Yet Jongin can’t stop his mind drifting back to the way Junmyeon’s arms looked, sword raised above him; lithe muscles bulging under skin, poised to strike. Deadly. Dangerous. Hot.
It’s in that moment that Jongin realises as much as Junmyeon is a prick, he wants to know why Junmyeon is a prick. He wants to get under Junmyeon’s skin (and he wouldn’t mind losing a few limbs in the process if it meant toughening him up a little).
“Do you want to ask him to follow us when we go tracking later?” Sehun looks at Jongin like he’s mad.
“Fuck if you want to get your head cut off, go ahead, be my guest Kim.” Sehun pulls out the arrow from the arch, collects the broken ones, tossing all of them into a corner.