Merci (etchedindigital) wrote,

[Tekken] Bind (prompt table)

Title: Bind
Author: Merci
Source: Tekken
Rating: R
Pairing: Kazuya/Lee
Summary: A series of vignettes about Kazuya and Lee
Warnings: Yaoi in places, incest in places.

Disclaimer: I am making no profit from this fanfiction. I do not own Lee, Kazuya, or Tekken.
Notes: I had started this table for Jin and Hwoarang. And then I went to write more HJ but I started doing some prompts for KL, so I figured, what the hell, and started this for those two as well.

001.Evidence 002.I'm here 003.Funeral 004.Puppy love 005.Gloves
006.Blackboard 007.Muse 008.Magic 009.Clean 010.Secret
011.Superstition 012.Fantasy 013.Test 014.Tease 015.Storm
016.Strawberries 017.Weapon 018.Beach 019.Lost 020.Cry
021.Aloof 022.Blood 023.Tower Block 024.Taxi 025.Search
026.Writer's Choice - Zombie 027.Writer's Choice - Zombie 2 028.Writer's Choice - Beauty 029.Writer's Choice - Sick 030.Writer's Choice- Zombie 3
30 Prompt Tables - Table A (30-A)


Dark clouds rolled overhead as the winds picked up, bending the palm trees to the ground. Lee walked along the beach, leaving his mansion behind, barricaded against the coming hurricane. His soaked clothes clung to him like a desperate lover and the raindrops stabbed at his eyes as he looked out to the waves thrashing about in an impossibly huge sea of violence. Lightning scarred the sky and the unearthly thunder beat a path straight through Lee’s ribcage.

He barely slowed his pace as the world rocked around him, his heart beating steady and sure, ready to face the oncoming storm. He’d fared worse, and nature was nothing compared to Heihachi’s tutelage.


Kazuya wielded the chalk like a weapon, stabbing at the problem on the blackboard with a determined edge that had his classmates (and teacher) in awe.

Lee narrowed his eyes and watched from his seat at the back of the room. The problem was a complex college-level challenge their teacher had presented without thought that anyone would take it up. It was meant to intimidate and show students why they should apply themselves at a high-school level if they wished to be prepared for post-secondary classes.

Nobody was supposed to beat it.

Lee smirked. Nobody knew how hard Heihachi trained them.

The class erupted into cheers and impressed whistles when Kazuya stabbed the blackboard as he punctuated his answer. Lee nodded, but didn’t applaud. He’d solved the problem seconds before his brother, and there was no honour in second place.


His hands were twisted, calloused slabs that didn’t feel pain anymore. They were more comfortable balled into fists than resting open, and Kazuya felt tingles of pleasure in them each time he pummelled an opponent to defeat. The pleasure came if it was a training dummy or a live opponent. Putting his gloves on was foreplay; the soft leather sliding over his calloused fingers, fitting tight around his palms and wrists. When his gloves went on, his breathing grew heavy, his heart beat faster, and the anticipation filled him with a low-level euphoria that only intensified with each bone-breaking hit.


Kazuya has a secret. He doesn’t know yet that Lee knows, but that will change when he finishes his training and returns to his room. Then he’ll find his closet door ajar -- not how he left it that morning -- and when he looks inside, his heart will catch in his throat and his mind will race when he sees his secret compartment -- the one Heihachi doesn’t know about, the one where he hides his secret stash -- also ajar.

Lee waits behind his desk, crouched low, ready to jump out and surprise Kazuya. He’s wearing only a smile and Kazuya’s newest acquisition: a pair of vintage Flagg Bros red high tops. The idiot had saved for months for the overpriced footwear, and if he wants Lee to keep his secret from Heihachi, he’ll have to pay the price.


Chaolan’s first funeral was a double-feature for parents whose faces he couldn’t remember. The details were hazy, as were the names of the relatives that wanted nothing to do with him. Then he’d been homeless, but a child crying for their mother wouldn’t last long on the streets, and so little Lee Chaolan had forgotten his grief and toughened up quick.

His second funeral came when he was an adult, and the details were more easily remembered, for the fear he carried as he snuck in to pay his respects. He slipped behind Heihachi’s business associates -- people there for their own political reasons, than to actually mourn a man they didn’t know. Lee quietly put his hands together and bowed his head, feeling Heihachi’s eyes on him as he quickly prayed to a photo of Kazuya.


They’d been apart for years, and still Lee felt a pit of emptiness strike at him when he read the article announcing Kazuya’s death. Heihachi’s media machine was quick to reveal the heir’s plane had crashed into a volcano and the head of the Mishima Zaibatsu was holding a funeral, open to all business associates and politicians who wished to pay their respects.

Lee tightened his jaw and sat back in his chair. He’d done everything he could to move beyond the foundations of his old life, and now that the only person that he didn’t completely hate was gone, it would be easier to make a clean break.


“Where to?” the driver asked, not bothering to look up until the door shut and his passengers had drunkenly crashed onto his back seat. His heart palpitated when he saw the flash of red in his mirror, and his eyes locked on the shadowy figure that reeked of evil.

He looked at the other man, and felt a little relieved. He was illuminated by light shining through the window. His light features were almost angelic, though his eyes betrayed his drunkenness. “The Mishima compound,” he said with a honeyed voice of refined experience.

The fear came slamming back and the driver knew this one was just as dangerous. He began driving with a white-knuckled grip and hoped he didn’t anger the Mishima devils behind him.


“I need another pair of sneakers!” Kazuya barked suddenly.

Lee carefully eyed his brother and then the bag of sneakers he’d just purchased from the store they’d just left. “What’s the rush?”

Kazuya grumbled and stalked away from Lee before swivelling around and marching back up to him. “These shoes are my one-hundred and forty-fourth pair!”

Lee tried to feign understanding, but a slow nod wasn’t going to cut it.

“Forty-four!” Kazuya bellowed, eyes shifting from side to side as he drew attention.

“Oh…” Lee began, suddenly realizing. “OOOOHHHHH!” He tried not to laugh. “Y-you’re superstitious! Right, I forgot.”

“I need more shoes!” Kazuya grabbed Lee’s shoulder and dragged him back into the store.


Lee stepped carefully over his fallen enemies, absently looting their bodies as he moved further into the tomb. His heart pounded in his ears. All they needed to do was retrieve the blue crystal that adorned the death mask of the faceless king. The number of skeletons popping up to stop them were becoming troubling, though. “Kazuya!” he called head to his brother as he tightened his grip on his daggers and waved his staff ahead, looking down a corridor of felled enemies. “Don’t aggro more of these assholes than we can handle!”

But Kazuya was too far ahead to hear the warning. He grinned with berserker glee as a swarm of the undead leaped from their graves, swords in hand, ready to fall before the rage of the barbarian Mishima.


Lee answered the door covered in red. His fingers dripped onto the floor, and his mouth was smeared in a bloody-red smile that set Kazuya’s heart racing. His reason for coming suddenly didn’t matter as he shoved Lee inside and pressed him to the wall, licking at his throat and sucking the gore from his lips. Bodies throbbed and rubbed together anxiously, like horny teenagers looking to get off and not caring how ridiculous they looked while thrusting their naughty bits against each other.

After, Lee returned to the kitchen to finish his bowl of strawberries. There was a reason he ate them when he was expecting Kazuya. There was a reason he was so messy about it, too.


They tried to keep it under wraps. It didn’t exist. It wasn’t real. It was too wrong to be real, and there would be two teen-sized graves if it came to light. They covered their tracks by fighting and yelling and accusing each other of the same old shit every week. Their father was too pleased in the wanton aggression to notice what was there.

Because it was real. It was obvious. It was there in the way they entered the dojo, how they faced off with roving eyes, how far apart they walked when going to school, and it was especially there in the dishevelled uniforms with mysterious stains buried at the bottom of the laundry hamper.

Zombie (artists’ choice)

It wasn’t so bad. Lee smiled in -- he hoped -- a smug and infuriating way as Kazuya pulled him up onto the bus. Lee held his side as he stood by Kazuya and they both looked back at the carnage below them. Bodies lay on the ground, with a few figures bent over and consuming the dead. Everything had degraded so quickly.

A new Iron Fist competitor had died in the ring. When she sprang up to attack the ringside medics, the crowd thought it was part of the show. When the blood-soaked medics attacked security, spreading the violence, panic ripped through the crowd.

Lee and Kazuya had just made it out. Lee smiled and felt his vision blur. It wasn’t so bad. They were survivors; Heihachi had made sure of it. Kazuya could survive without him.

I’m Here

Lee came to and opened his eyes. He opened them wider. Was he awake? His vision was filled with darkness.

Fighting the surging panic, he focused on his other senses. The ground felt hard and rocky, he could detect a burning smell, and he could hear the echo of vast nothingness. Was he dead? No, there was another sound: uneven footsteps, slow and deliberate.

Then there was a grunt and hands were on him. “Chaolan…”

“Kazuya?” Lee looked in the direction of the voice, but the darkness still consumed him and he reached out towards his brother.

A strong hand took his. “Such an idiot. What did that power do to you…?”

“I don’t think I handled it very well…” Lee tried laughing, but ended up coughing and spitting out what tasted like blood. “How bad is it?”

There was silence, then the hand tightened.

Puppy Love

His condo floor -- the one he’d paid extra to get in that shade of white with silver flecks -- was covered in newspapers. It was surprising how quickly his life was taken over by a roly-poly puddle of fluff with oversized paws and sharp, blue eyes. At first he’d taken the dog in as an act of compassion upon finding the too-small pup sniffing around the trash. He’d intended to turn the filthy fluff into a rescue organization, but the hours between finding the pup and the time the rescue centre opened were his undoing as those big, brown eyes looked at him with something he’d never felt before and he felt his resolve melt.


The eighteenth-century Venetian mirror cost Lee more than he’d care to admit, but he was smitten the moment he saw it. He had to have it. What seemed to be a waste of money for the sake of vanity turned out to be a wise investment as the enchanted glass gave Lee a bonus to his charisma each morning plus extra inspiration points increased the success rate of whatever project he worked on that day. His reflection became a guide to the magic within, inspiring his subconscious to masterful heights, and charming him with ancient magic that had been looking for a new focus.


He spent his nights working through coding problems until the sky grew light and the morning birds began their song, and then, if he was on a role with connecting the dots and making the programming as tight as possible, he kept going until noon. Combot had to be faster, stronger, harder, better… he sometimes felt like his adoptive father with how ruthlessly he pushed his creations to perfection. And as Lee subconsciously followed Heihachi’s lessons, he did so with Kazuya illuminated in his mind’s eye as he went on, building his machine to be the perfect fighter who could take any abuse.


Lee’s concealed weapon is a thing of beauty, for those who are lucky enough to appreciate it in its full glory. Hidden beneath fitted suits and a disarming smile, the only part of his weapon is visible in his hands -- calloused and skilled -- and in the charming words that roll off his tongue -- cutting with an edge that leaves his clients feeling both elated, defeated, and aroused. He dabbles in robotics; modifying complex machines of his own creation, refining them, making them tougher, harder, stronger… but none compare to the weapon that is Lee’s own body; tightly wound, sharpened by severe tutelage, and ready to kick to kill.


Kazuya glances at Lee as he struggles to relax. He adjusts his head against the cushions and clenches his fist, but he just can’t get comfortable on the lounge chair. His jaw tightens on instinct and his side-eye turns to a glare.

“I know it’s hard, Kazuya,” Lee says without looking over. “You’re doing good. Just relax and you’ll last another fifteen minutes.”

Kazuya frowns and resist folding his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “I don’t know how you can do it… it’s a waste of time.”

Lee turned his head and lifted his sunglasses to actually look at Kazuya. “Endurance is just as important as explosive power, and I trained on all the beaches of the world.”


Lee had done all right for himself; earning his fortune, being his own boss, and generally being one of the most sought-after bachelors in the world. He was beautiful, smart, strong, rich… and he was happy to cultivate this reputation with every press conference and interview.

He was normal.

“Normal” was his mantra when things got dark and the uncaring hollowness ate his insides. He academically knew things were important, and threw his money behind worthy causes, but the things that should have tugged at his heartstrings missed the loose and unconnected ends that were cut long ago, disconnecting his tears.


He arrived at the first tournament jetlagged and reeking like a coach-seat transatlantic flight. Still, he polished up well in the airport bathroom and rolled onto the red carpet of the first Iron Fist tournament with a winning smile, a flick of his hair, and a positive impression made on the reporters and screaming fans. Heihachi’s money was well spent as he learned business in America and picked up on how to win over a room full of visually-driven idiots. He was worthy of the Zaibatsu and he’d prove it. He scanned the crowd for the only competition he expected to face.

Zombie 2 (Artist’s choice)

Lee woke feeling like a bag of smashed assholes. He cursed in a non-verbal, hungover groan as he groped beside him for the only asshole he cared about. Nothing. Kazuya had vanished. He cracked an eye open, but the sky was dark and dusky and he gingerly lifted his head to confirm he was alone atop the bus. He groaned again and forced himself to stand. The world was coming into wobbly focus as his vision improved, but his hearing faded and then his balance felt off. He heard the disembodied moans rising from below and he knew he was surrounded by those creatures. How long had he been unconscious?

He leaned over the bus to observe the horrors below but lost his balance. The ground rushed towards him and he hit. There was a crack. He felt his arm, but it didn’t hurt. Huh, that was lucky. And the animated corpses seemed to be ignoring him. More luck!

Lee groaned again as his head throbbed and ebbed on a sea of pain and he shambled off in search of Kazuya.


They’d struck a careful balance when they were younger; the balance of winning and losing. Winning too often increased their father’s expectations, making life difficult for the winner. Losing too often obviously earned the loser more beatings, increased brutality in daily training routines, and generally a shitty life of all hell. So Kazuya and Lee conspired to develop a non-verbal system of blinks and gestures that would help them discuss who would win or lose the next match, depending on Heihachi’s mood towards either, as well as who was willing to blow the loser as a thank you.

Beauty - Writer’s Choice

Kazuya glared at the bathroom mirror, turning his head from left to right.

“You’re wonderfully intimidating,” Lee said, appearing behind Kazuya and rubbing his hands over Kazuya’s naked chest. “Your scars are wonderful.”

“Of course they are, but the wrinkles…”

“Ah, I have just the thing!” Lee said cheerily, spinning Kazuya around indicating he should kneel. “Nothing tightens your skin up like a facial!”

Kazuya looked at him skeptically, but then saw something in the way Lee’s skin was still firm after 50. He grunted and dropped to his knees, finally understanding the ulterior motive behind those daily blow jobs!


It was one of those fights; the kind that sent someone to the hospital. It was the kind of fight that Heihachi ruthlessly encouraged. It was the only kind of fight Kazuya ever engaged in. He watched his brother get to his feet and wipe his mouth with the back of his fist. The action smeared his cheek with blood. The colour stood out against his light and bruised skin. Red looked good on Lee. Kazuya had always thought so. He side-stepped another sloppy attack and casually punched Lee into the ground. That silver hair was beginning to turn a pinkish red and Kazuya’s pulse quicked.

Sick (artist’s choice)

Balled up tissues were his first clue as Kazuya walked into Lee’s condo. While they could have been evicence of a successful orgy, absent was the smell of fucking that usually saturated the air, instead, his nose detected something else in the air. Animal instinct warned him to stay away, but Kazuya’s sense of fear was under-developed and he proceeded inside until he found a pile of shivering and coughing blankets on the couch. It explained why Lee had been absent from board meetings all week and why his text messages were illegible. He grunted at the blankets and then went to prepare some hot tea.


Some of Lee’s staff had noticed their employer’s change in demeanour. His smiling morning greetings had lessened to a smile and a nod, and then just a nod, and even that had whithered to barely lifting his eyes from his work as he went about his day. Nobody knew him well enough to investigate the change, and even Lee’s assistant, Giselle, who was braver than most and willing to ask tough questions, kept her distance. She had noted that this behaviour manifested roughly the same time of year, but even she could not know the exact date of Kazuya’s death.


“Do you trust me?” Kazuya asked, holding out his hand for Lee.

The silver-haired devil looked suspiciously at the purple man who had flown down from the clouds to ask him this peculiar question. “Are you reinacting Aladdin?” he finally asked after a long pause. “Am I Jasmine?”

Kazuya smiled at that and alighted on the balcony railing. “You pass the Disney test. We can be friends now.” He smiled widely.

“But my favourite Disney film is Beauty & the Beast,” Lee said, carefully.

Kazuya’s smile turned beastly. “Well, if you’ll have me as your guest, I’ll put your patience to the test…”

Lee’s smile turned Jafar-like. “Yes, we can be friends now.”

AN: Please laugh at this. I’m trying to hard!!

Tower Block

Kazuya stepped from the elevator to a smelly hallway. Somewhere, a baby cried. He felt severely overdressed as he proceeded down the hall, noting in places the malodorous mix of ganga, sweat, and vomit that congealed in the atmosphere in places. At the end of the hall he found the apartment number matching the scrap of paper that Lee had slipped him at school.

Lee was quick to open the door and even quicker to pull him inside. “Why are you dressed like that?” he hissed, looking up and down the hall before slamming the door shut and locking it again. He was dressed down so far that Heihachi would disown him, and Kazuya mused that might have been part of the plan.

AN: First I had to find out what a tower block is. Then I had this idea in my mind of the reputation of some of those types of buildings I’ve been in. I had the thought that Lee would want to escape from Heihachi and do the exact OPPOSITE of his upbringing, and he’d invite Kazuya out to experience a weekend without parental supervision.


Lee needed a new look. The 7th King of Iron Fist tournament was fast approaching and he’d garnered a reputation for flashy outfits and entrances. He needed to wow them with something new, and so he gorged himself on American 80s glam rock and decided that facepaint, glitter, and crimped, teased, hairsprayed hair would make the impression he hoped for. He spent months preparing, growing his hair down past his shoulders and perfecting his makeup.

The day of his first match, he screamed when he realized he’d forgotten his comb. Kazuya rushed in and casually ran a comb through his hair while offhandedly saying he hoped Lee found his comb. Then he left. Then Lee rushed out to kill him and steal his comb.

And that is how Lee canonically won the KoIF 7 tournament.

Zombie 3 (artist's choice)

Kazuya was fucked, and not the way he liked, either! Those fucking zombies were never ending, and while he enjoyed breaking many faces with his fists of fury, even his godlike stamina was starting to wane, and he hated to admit that there were more idiots to kill than he could manage. He spat and kicked another zombie in the head before something caught his eye. A violet-clad zombie staggered towards him and his heart sank.

He’d never get fucked the way he liked again. :(

Kazuya tightened his fists and readied to put his brother out of his misery. It’s what their father would have wanted. He rushed forward, a howl of rage in his throat and he leapt into the air, ready to put his brother’s shambling corpse down permanently, when Lee suddenly shifted to the side and avoided the attack. Kazuya landed and spun around for another hit when Lee caught his fist mid-air and shook his head. “Is that any way to thank me for rushing over here to help you?”

“Lee, I…” Kazuya stammered. “I thought you were DEAD, idiot!”

“Yeah?” Lee patted his bite marks. “All the precautions I took against you infecting me with your devil seed must also work for this infection…”

“Wait, you… what?” Kazuya was clearly confused, and exhausted, and Lee decided to have mercy on him.

“The author likes me too much to kill me off so easily.”

Kazuya nodded. “Fine, then let’s get out of here. I’m bored of killing these guys.”

“I have a helicopter on the roof,” Lee offered. “And I doubt the zombies have made it to the Bahamas.”
Tags: ! fanfiction, !general, !slash/yaoi, (tekken), (tekken) kazuya/lee, (tekken) lee/kazuya, .crack/humour, .intimate, .prompt table, .slice-of-life, .vignette, /kazuya mishima, /lee chaolan
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