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flowerwrites06 · 11 months

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lion and the fox viii — jjk

Plot: In a turbulent world of crime and intrigue, a fiery journalist makes an unlikely alliance with one of the country’s most notorious bosses. Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Jungkook x Journalist!OC (Name: Belle) Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+ Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series Word Count: 2.7k Genre: Mafia AU | Vintage (1940′s vibes) AU Tags & Warnings: crime, violence, sexual content, forced prostitution, mentions of racist/xenophobic implications and culture, mild scenes of harassment, some misogynistic behaviour, mentions of a war, heavy mentions of drug use, infidelity. Authors Note: hope you like this new chapter! Disclaimer: Please note that while some historical research has been done for this story, the MAJORITY of it has been altered in some way with creative liberties to match the themes and motifs of the plot.

Gaia rested by the pool of her house as the daily sun grew hot, baking into her skin. Her father was off gallivanting in other business leaving with the serenity of her own home again. Her own house. Not the house was bought for her so she could pose, smile and spread her legs whenever it was needed. She relaxed here, wearing her favourite blue swimsuit and relishing in the silence.

However, the silence wasn’t a long-term fate for Gaia. One of her guards stepped into the backyard, shoes tapping against the scattered stones. He bowed and said: “Kim Akira is asking for your audience.”

Gaia tried not to show her shock and frustration at the announcement. Clearing her throat, she rested back on the lounge chair. “Let her in.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Akira walk into her backyard. She wore a lovely silk white dress and red lips that looked like saccharine cherries even from a distance. “It’s good to see you, Ms. Takahashi.”

Gaia didn’t face her. What do you want, Kim?”

“Just here to speak to you personally.” Akira sat on the lounge chair across from her without asking for permission. She didn’t have to really, her family was highly respected by all Japanese syndicates. Gaia would do well to maintain some level of respect even though every bone in her body wanted to stab her eyes.

“I don’t want pity,” Gaia said.

“It’s not pity,” Akira spoke in an irritating sweet voice. “You’re not the only one who’s had to live in an allied marriage. For all the national pride my husband has, most of his funds come from my oppressive Japanese family.” She smiled a hint of sadness in her eyes. “What we did to them was cruel, I won’t deny it but this journey Seokjin embarked on. Using the sex trade to spark reputation crisis. It’s low even for him.”

At least they agreed on something. Except that wasn’t enough for Gaia. Seokjin didn’t just use sex trades to ruin their reputation, he invaded her personal life. Her intimate love life to get all this stinking information. Low was a term for victims. Seokjin crossed a line and Gaia would never forget it. “What’s your point?”

“My husband has sent his trophy to sway you into an alliance. Seeing a familiar face may soothe or comfort you but I will not sugarcoat it, Gaia, I don’t want your father as an ally.” Akira narrowed her gaze, the brim of her hat shadowed over her lips, turning sweet cherries into blood red. “Everything about this occupation disgusts me and your father is a representation of it. I don’t want him tarnishing whatever softness I’ve made in my husband towards my culture. You’ve lived with a Korean husband. And you’ve loved a Korean lover. You know they don’t deserve this pressure and suffering in their own country.”

Gaia scoffed out a chuckle. “Quite the cartwheel you’re making me perform.” She smirked. “Fine. But on two conditions. Your husband can’t buy out any more sex trades.”

“And?”

“Bring me that spy of yours.”

“You’re selling me away?” Jimin asked as Seokjin calmly sipped his tea in Peace and Honey. They were back to their usual establishment except the halls were empty, customers were barely seen in rooms and even the smell of tea itself faded from the paper walls.

Kim Namjoon usually showed humble nature when it came to the funds he had but it was now they had taken the heavy blows of his finances. But Jimin never thought Seokjin would resort to this. An alliance with the Takahashis. Another Japanese syndicate and at the price of his life no less.

Seokjin kept his soft expression like Jimin was but a bug that crawled up his arm. “It’s not a pleasant decision but we need this alliance with Hebi Pa.”

“But you asked me to investigate them, now we’re allying with them?” Jimin couldn’t control the shaking in his voice. He spent a whole year, living in a different house and getting close to Gaia only to go back as a poor rabbit in a snake’s nest. All the while Seokjin gets the blame transferred away.

“Don Takahashi still isn’t a fan but we’re trying to make arrangements.” Seokjin popped a small rice cake in his mouth. “This is good for you. You’ve spent a year with Gaia, it’s normal territory.”

“She’ll kill me. You’re sending me to my death.” Jimin felt the guards grab onto him, escorting him out of the room. “Master!”

“Gaia Takahashi has come into dealings with Kim Seokjin, projecting a possible alliance between the two gangs.” Belle read through the words in the newsletter spread through the underground. The air in Jungkook’s office turned sour and difficult to breathe as the news lingered. It didn’t help that Jungkook himself was on his second cigarette.

“Of all the fucking things he could do.” Jungkook’s voice sounded hoarse as he curled his fingers into fists. “And Gaia agreed.” He stood to his feet, pacing for a only few moments before standing at the window that displayed the setting sun.

Belle watched the veins of his hand's pulse, placing the newsletter on the table and standing behind him. “The plan can still keep going.”

“But this solidifies his power in the country.” Jungkook’s jaw flicked. “He’s going to be untouchable.”

Belle held onto his arm, squeezing gently to provide some comfort. The pungent scent of tobacco was thick in her nostrils. “No one is untouchable. There’s always something to pick at even with Gaia as an ally.”

“Hebi Pa is not a weak ally.” Jungkook turned his head then, his eyes full of anger but Belle felt his body relax briefly.

“But a spy managed to infiltrate it. It’s possible to still break him.” Belle lowered her voice to a small mutter so it was only the two of them.

Jungkook finally let out a sigh. “Any weakness.” He hummed in intrigue.

His silence didn’t comfort Belle. A new determination flashed across his eyes as he turned to face her properly. “A man like Seokjin can smell your panic a while away. So stay calm.” Belle pressed her palm against his chest, feeling the deep thrums of his heartbeat.

Jungkook reached out and cupped his cheek. No smile on his face. No softness but a heightened look of confidence. His fingers gripped her chin. “I can stay calm if you’re with me.”

Belle chuckled lightly through her nose. “You’re very persistent.”

Jungkook asked, nudging his nose against hers. “Wouldn’t have gotten this close if I wasn’t.”

Taehyung travelled back to his old house to see Angel. His bags were packed and his will was strong to put this life behind him and renew himself with the person he cared about most. The moon painted the world in soft silver as he opened the creaky door and stepped in.

His heart plummeted. The room was full of ten men, all adorning marks of the Tiger. Angel was tied to a chair, her hair in disarray but her eyes were harsh and glossed. She kept her lips pursed lips but her chest rose and fall as a ringed hand touched her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, no one lay a harmful hand on her,” Seokjin’s voice ran like ice spikes down Taehyung’s spine. His smile, which once looked like heaven in his aching hell, now looked bitter and vile. “I knew you of all people would never make such a clumsy mistake.” Seokjin smiled. “But I suppose the prize is quite exquisite.” He traced the back of his finger down Angel’s cheek.

“Let her go,” Taehyung said. He had trained for years to keep his resolve. So many years to break himself until he couldn’t feel anything for the ones he killed. But this. This he could not break. Anger flowed through him, trembled his fingers and shook his knees. Along with it an urge to hurt Seokjin.

“Why would you want to leave this job, Taehyung?” Seokjin asked, tilting his head with a mocking dumb expression.

“Are you joking?” Taehyung breathed out in disbelief.

“It’s not glamorous, but where would you go?” Seokjin waved his hands. “With your record so soaked with blood, do you think a normal life is in your vision?”

Seokjin knew how to talk. He knew it better than Taehyung ever could. This man had seen Taehyung when he was hungry, desperate and at his worst mindset. He knew the poison he could fill inside him to run him back.

But Seokjin made a mistake. He turned to Angel. “And my dear girl, it’s not easy having your body become your business but women rarely get worthy pay out there in the normal world. You’re at a wonderful place. You could even move to our syndicate and get taken care of much better than Jungkook.”

In all his desperation and hunger, Taehyung knew Angel deserved better than this. She deserved a life where her body didn’t need to be her business. Where she could do work in whichever place she wanted and choose who touched her. Taehyung felt the weight of his knife inside his boot. Thought about killing the man that was trying to poison Angel’s mind into his grasp.

As he reached for it though, the door burst through with a rush of guards. Panic rushed him as he thought Seokjin called for back-up but one of the suited guards sliced the throat of Seokjin’s henchman. Taehyung noticed the fox tattoo on one of their hands. Jungkook sent back-up, only for the two of them.

Angel ran and grabbed onto his hand, dragging them out of the fray as Jungkook’s guards gave them way back into the cool airs of the night.

Vans choked the outside of the house. Taehyung’s breath still uneasy as he stared back at the house. “We could end it here.”

“Don’t worry about him.” A deep voice moved them to stare at the raven-haired man climbing out of the van. Yeou Pa’s underboss, Min Yoongi. “We’ve got a different plan for our little tiger.” He smirked and gestured inside the van. “Your lift.”

Angel squeezed his hand and led him into the van. As the door of the van slammed shut, Taehyung let out a frustrated sigh.

“He’s going to escape,” Taehyung said as Yoongi climbed in the front seat.

“Well, we can’t exactly kill him, can we?” Yoongi asked.

“Why not?” Taehyung practically growled.

“Bloody hell, you’re not one of the smart members.” Yoongi flicked his cigarette away. “If we kill Seokjin here, what do you think his wife would do? Unless you have magic assassination skills where you can kill every connection of Akira Zaher’s family.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened, staying silent.

“Didn’t think so.”

Angel held onto his hand, moving her head so he would look at her and nothing else.

“He could’ve killed you,” Taehyung whispered.

“I’m fine.” Angel muttered, every ounce of kindness in her tone as she caressed the back of his hand.

“This is risky.”

“Look at me.” Angel held his face in her gentle hands. “We’re going to be okay. We have to be strong for this to work.”

She was right. Their freedom was close but they still had to keep pushing through. They were close. Taehyung wasn’t giving up now.

The night turned dark and quiet. Belle paced around the living room wearing a soft nightgown with nothing but the lamps glowing. Jungkook, on the other hand, relaxed on the couch as he calmly drunk his whiskey.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jungkook cleared his throat. “There is a chance that nothing happened.”

“Something always happens,” Belle said.

“You’re the one who said not to worry and stay calm.” Jungkook gestured with his whiskey glass, liquid gold glinting in the light.

Belle hummed, knowing exactly what she advised but that didn’t change her gut feeling. Not just her gut feeling but Seokjin slipped through cracks all the time. Especially with this new alliance, she had no idea.

Jungkook placed the glass on the table and grabbed onto Belle’s dress, standing up to his feet. “Come here.”

“Stop.” Belle tried to push away but Jungkook kept her pressed against him. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m calming you down.” Jungkook smiled, fingers tracing down her back as he leaned in and started nibbling on her neck.

Belle couldn’t help but laugh before they heard the door click. She patted her chest. “They’re here. Stop.”

Jungkook squeezed her ass for a moment just as Yoongi stepped into the living room. “There you are,” Jungkook said. “Took you a while.”

“Well, their romantic little cottage was far out.” Yoongi gestured behind him.

A wave of relief washed over Belle as she saw Angel and Taehyung appear. She intertwined her fingers together so her concern wouldn’t look so plain on her face. “You’re both safe.”

“You called them?” Angel asked.

“I figured you might need it.” Belle smiled.

“A word, Yoongi.” Jungkook squeezed Belle’s hand and walked past them, escorting Yoongi into his office.

A look of guilt passed across Taehyung’s face as he stepped closer. “I told them about your presence in the gang. Nothing in detail but they know who you are now.”

Belle’s heart squeezed but she took a deep breath. “It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” It was inevitable that Seokjin would know of her presence again. But her already frazzled feeling left her a little shaken. “Please, go rest in your new room.”

As the servants escorted Angel and Taehyung away, Belle made her way into Jungkook’s office. Yoongi and Jungkook were speaking to one another in a cloud of light smoke.

“The extraction should take a few days but we need Namjoon’s permission first.” Yoongi rested back on the chair, letting out a plume of smoke.

“We’ll get it, don’t worry.” Jungkook waved his hand.

“Namjoon’s permission for what?” Belle asked.

Jungkook’s expression softened as he saw her standing at the door. “We’re going to play a little game with Seokjin.” A smirk ghosted on his lips, that look of determination on his face. “Knowledge of his secret son is a dangerous one. Something that’s going catch his attention enough that he may face us in person.”

Belle’s stomach clenched. “The son?”

“Well, sons.” Jungkook shrugged. “Extraction of the Japanese son is also a priority.”

It left a bitter taste on her tongue at how casual he sounded about taking children away from their homes. “They’re children,” she said. “You’re involving children in this mess.”

“They’re heirs, it’s a difference.” Jungkook’s voice changed. So much that it felt like a strange for a few uncomfortable moments.

“No it isn’t,” Belle spoke through gritted teeth.

Jungkook sighed, a glimpse of annoyance on his face. “You yourself told me that we needed to find a weakness. And Seokjin took things too far.”

“You’re doing this because you feel some type of personal offense towards Gaia allying with Seokjin.” Belle shook her head. “If we think about it for a moment.”

“It’s my decision, Belle.” Jungkook’s tone turned firm. “My decision alone.”

Belle pursed her lips together as the air thickened.

“However, we may need you to convince Namjoon.” Jungkook turned back into a soft tone. The same softness he used when he invited her the first time.

Belle narrowed her gaze. “I won’t convince Namjoon of anything so long as I understand that no harm will go to the boys.”

“They will be placed in a safehouse until we make our move with Seokjin,” Yoongi said.

“And they won’t be harmed?” Belle asked in a slower tone.

Yoongi turned to Jungkook and the man was silent for a while. Longer than she liked. But then he smiled and nodded. “They won’t be harmed, I promise.”

Belle watched him, disappointment rushing through her as the realization weighed on her like a bag of bricks. No matter how many times Jungkook would paint flowers over the needles, it won’t change who he was. He was a boss in the underworld. Power and pride were all that fueled these people. Despite knowing this, Belle knew she had to keep the children safe. So she nodded. “Alright.”

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randomfoggytiger · 9 months

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The X-Files: Son of Egypt

First fic of all time (barring dabbles in my younger years off the internet that don't count.)

All credit goes to @television-overload's intriguing idea-- Samantha adopts and raises William Mulder-Scully (post here)-- with a Prince of Egypt-esque twist~.

Will Van de Kamp couldn’t remember how old he was (and couldn’t begin to take a guess now) or even what he'd said when his mother’s wistful, yearning look stopped him in the middle of a protest. “Your father said that to me, too,” she’d murmured, before quickly walking them away from the conversation. It was then he understood: Samantha Van de Kamp was his mother, Carl Andrew Van de Kamp was his brother, but the man he called “dad” was not his father.

~~~~~

He had just turned twenty-two when Will was finally allowed to join the raids.

Their base's Consortium quarters had been quiet, eagerly quiet as the Van de Kamp men represented their request. Will may have felt aged in his soul-- a cobweb weighed down with dust and filth and dead parts-- but he was young in their eyes; and against this fading generation, who had seen wars and brokered peace before their species was extinguished, Will had to prove he could handle the great risk, the heavy responsibility, the implied future work this one task would set him up for. That was easily done as he parroted back their secrets-- a young boy with a quick mind and a listening ear could learn a lot, particularly when firmly transplanted from his childhood farm into the middle of a Syndicate compound. And a boy who could turn that threat of exposure into a boon for his lords and masters was a gift to be cultivated and groomed. He was approved. In passing, a few half-remarks (“Perhaps he should have been left on the farm. To know so much of our inner workings and with so much history--”, “It was necessary. There was no other way to keep Mulder from--”) snagged at his mind, vaguely recognizing a few names and situations mentioned before; but his attention was caught by Van de Kamp’s reassuring grip and a few curious members striding over to weigh him in the balance for themselves. Later.

Later came sooner than expected.

The raid had been going smoothly. It wasn’t even a raid, Will discovered, but a routine drive-by meant to intimidate a specific helper or informant: a preening “you’re still in checkmate” boast. Elevated desperation reeked from their current victim, choking Will as thickly as Van de Kamp and Henderson’s ruthless satisfaction did. The interrogation ended badly: Henderson was knocked aside and Van de Kamp warned away from his charge by the muzzle of Henderson’s gun. Will Van de Kamp had his own weapon out and aimed at the man’s chest before he could become a hostage; but Will could not pull the trigger. The background noise faded out as both opponents faced each other, equal fear in their eyes. Then the man jerked the gun away, swiftly putting a bullet in his own skull.

Another half-remark haunted Will’s footsteps from the scene. “Can’t change a Mulder,” Henderson hissed under his breath, hand wrapped around his twisted fingers.

~~~~~

The Consortium appreciated the concept of genius but withdrew from his own. Bad blood on all sides, Will assumed; the dark, overcasting shadow of his late grandfather providing contrast to the spark of his intelligence. Eidetic memory was a negative in this den of bloated jackals, gluttoned as they were on easy power and declaring victories when they hadn't even fought wars (though against whom or what no one could point to.)

When Van de Kamp had told the family they were moving permanently on-base, everyone had assumed it was because Andrew had caught the Syndicate's attention. Cunning was prized by a group who had to lick their own wounds one too many times; and Will’s older brother had it in spades. It was ridiculously easy for him to spin anything to his advantage with everyone except Will-- the two brothers knew each other too well for those games to be ended between them in anything other than a fight, a good laugh, and another adventure. Andrew's harsher struggles trying to live up to his grandfather's legacy in the Consortium was harshly contrasted by Will's greater negligence in the name of freedom; and both brothers grew closer and further away as the group's requirements necessarily pushed and pulled at their relationship. There was love, Will knew; but suspicions this intense could only be dealt with alone.

“What’s eating at you? We all don’t take that first shot, it doesn’t mean--”

“Teach me to hack in, not get caught.”

Another tussle, another patch up, another bargain.

Will only gained fringes of information from slipping into those dangerous territories (most of the information having been kept offline since an incident in 1995, he gleaned); but two important pieces were worth the risk: former Special Agent Fox W. Mulder (recently exonerated) had continually entangled himself in Syndicate business while on a madcap search for his sister; and that sister was Samantha Mulder. Samantha Mulder, Samantha Van de Kamp.

He had to find those files.

~~~~~

It took longer than Will was willing to admit to recall where Van de Kamp stored his important documents, cds, and drives. Nocturnal adventures were not unusual for him, even with a mother who quaked with worry and a father who quietly guided him back to his room any time after 10 PM. With the tiniest flashlight he could find in one hand (being invisible was an essential skill to survive when surrounded by betrayals layered with suspicions) and a phone in the other, Will picked his way through the attic, recognizing various names or codes from his notes. Eyes growing strained in the darkness, he finally found a promising box: folder piles, papers filed together, pictures, notes… the X-Files. Or copies of them.

Will flipped around, brusquely set aside, and grabbed for stack after stack until he found his mother’s file. Although she was younger in this photo than any in the house, they still reassuringly shared the same nose (pinched at the bridge, widening out at the tip.) For a brief moment he wondered what his uncle’s nose looked like; but the word “Found” arrested his attention. Everything froze with him in shock, coming back to life only after he sputtered on a choked, belated gasp. Closed… found… 2000… died…starlight. Died.

He clutched as many files and cds as he could; then a box of them; then set everything aside, shaking, as he ruthlessly sorted between importance and paramount importance. Remaining undetected was the goal: it wouldn’t matter how much evidence he collected if he were caught.

~~~~~

Uncle Fox, Will discovered, was a fascinatingly transparent opponent to the Syndicate. He'd never hidden his motives or intentions, often defying the shaved-down FBI report regulations to get "the Truth" out-- conferences, interviews, even an odd media appearance (Cops was one of the notes he underlined.) The smaller, more humanizing details of his life were gathered through safer searches, having been expunged from the Consortium record for their unimportance. Special Agent Fox Mulder (Uncle Mulder) was always accompanied by his partner, Special Agent Dana Scully. And, fittingly he assumed, when Will saw them both for the first time it was together: his uncle’s wide smile and her serious frown captured on-site of one of their cases.

Former Special Agent Dana Scully was still being monitored by her enemies (likely a more indirect way to monitor her former partner): now a doctor at an Our Lady’s Sorrow hospital, her hair was longer and her face relatively unchanged, if the newest articles about her work were to be believed. It was a short leap from those articles to the sensationalism rags about her past, and an even shorter distance from that to tumbling into revelation after revelation: exoneration in 2008, fleeing the law with her partner in 2002… and adopting-out her son, also in 2002. William Mulder-Scully.

The thought flitted and was brushed aside; then slammed back with ringing clarity. Will scrambled for baby Mulder-Scully’s birthday and breathed a sigh: he was born in 2001. Five years too young to be himself, but a cousin nonetheless. He hoped wherever the boy was that it was far from where he was.

But “Closed… found… 2000… died.” wouldn’t leave his mind. Samantha Mulder was buried in North Carolina with a Teena Mulder; and, to Will’s shock, was briefly joined by Uncle Mulder himself for three months. The files he had on hand confirmed the public report, which left him shaken and reeling.

Closed… found.. 2000… died…. Resurrected?

And if closed, found, 2000, died, resurrected was a possibility, then there was an equal chance that born, adopted, given a new identity could be true as well.

A frantic, thorough, and looping search confirmed it: the Will Van De Kamp born to Samantha Van de Kamp existed only after William Mulder-Scully was adopted out. Thinking back, Will couldn’t personally prove his existence after his alleged birth in 1996. The life they lived had never allowed for natural curiosity or too many questions with silence so easily bought and paid for. Until now, he assumed “the work” was dangerous and fearfully weighty, something to be talked of obliquely or not at all. Now he wondered what sort of kingdom he and Andrew were being raised for.

~~~~~

Clones and hybrids and tortured children and harvested women and broken men.

That was their empire.

His mother, a tool of the Project. Carted out against her knowledge and against her will for her father’s (her creator's) means and goals, paraded before a brother she thought she had and married to a man that may or may not know she was inhuman. A string of children lost and born and dead before Andrew survived to carry on her creator's legacy. Complicit in the lie of Will's birth and parentage.

His brother, a tool of the Project. Elevated as its prince, honed to a weapon, and all-but-in-writing handed the keys of the Conspiracy. Immune before immunity was no longer required. Cunningly grasping for that power and for Will, unable to keep both but refusing to lax his grip all the same.

The Project: fruitless lies upon lies that saved no one, having merely benefitted from two opposing alien factions’ war and stalemate. Bullies left with too much aimless power and ashes at their feet.

Will knew he needed to leave. Soon. Immediately.

~~~~~

Andrew was furious Will was leaving without warning and almost without a goodbye. Their ensuing fight was left unresolved-- perhaps forever-- with the punctuating slam and screech of an angry driver venting his pain on the road. Will wondered if his family was doomed to be continually torn apart; and if Andrew would ever start or never stop looking for him.

His mother, Samantha, simply stared, silent tears marking the many years she'd chosen ignorance over truth. A soft then more desperate hug said everything for her; and she quietly slipped into the backroom, giving him time to grab what he needed and leave.

Van de Kamp barged in before Will left, breathless with pain. He, too, was silent; and he, too, allowed his son to leave.

Will knew all three wouldn’t betray him; but how much of that was motivated by love, loyalty, or a twisted sense of duty he couldn’t say.

~~~~~

Doctor Dana Scully was easy to locate but harder to follow, the Consortium’s search for him making it nearly impossible at first. Her frown was still serious and her hair was still long, but her spark was gone. He could only watch this new mother from afar, drifting in her wake-- hungry as she ate, parched as she drank, exhausted as she slept. He couldn’t approach her, the bereft ache in his last mother’s eyes always on his mind, foiling his best attempts to forget. Perhaps former Special Agent Dana Scully and he were not meant to be, or perhaps meeting her in person would turn her from a figment into flesh. Until he could be certain, he waited.

Former Special Agent Fox Mulder was nowhere to be found.

It was a week before Dana Scully led the way to her second home, a ramshackle abandoned house in the sticks. Will knew about this property, even came to scout it out once; but it looked dead from the road, and he’d hurried back to his previous task. By now, he should have learned that appearances are deceiving.

He left his car in the woods, slinking up the porch easily by crouching under the tall grass. The house was still dead-- no hum from the power, no creaking of the pipes, and no shuffling from the steps inside. Half remarks, easy to recognize from a lifetime of training, trickled outside; and Will inched closer to catch them.

Dana Scully’s voice-- harder to hear from where Will was positioned-- was softer than he’d imagined, especially when contrasted with the solemn expression that settled perpetually on her face. “...out here… this house… alone.”

“Well, you know me, Scully,” Special Agent Fox Mulder’s (Uncle Fox, Mulder, Father's) voice rang out, falsely cheerful. “You predicted how this’d go years ago.”

Will caught a mournful murmur.

“‘Catatonic schizophrenia’, I believe you called it.”

“Mulder.” He heard that loud and clear: no nonsense endearment. Amused and trying not to be.

“Though I think our story ended better than theirs. Though not by much.”

Although Dana Scully’s (Scully's) heels clicked close, Will could tell she was only drawing closer to Agent Mulder (Mulder.) There was a long, deep silence, a few deep reassuring breaths, and what sounded like affectionate ruffling.

“You’ll find your way back, Mulder. I believe that.”

Retreating from this intimate moment between two sad, broken people, Will felt fifteen years old for the first time in his false twenty-two.

~~~~~

Will didn’t leave Mulder’s house. He spent the next week or two losing track of time in the rhythm of Mulder’s world: quiet except for the wind moving through the trees, the grass, or slamming up against the lifeless windows. Food was easy to forget when he subsisted on various nonperishables; and the hours were whittled away plowing through various copies of unredacted files. Low profile didn’t seem to have existed in Mulder and Scully’s orbit, with more and more press and eyewitness accounts to corroborate or validate the various outlandish claims they’d both signed their names to.

It also gave him time to think. Losing his family was concrete and understandable even if it was gut-wrenching and grueling. But to have stripped him of his identity, of so large a factor as his age, was as baffling as it was appalling. Will had lived through each milestone, had graduated, had taken other secondary education classes and courses; and now he was left to second-guess everything he thought he knew. Tutelage tempered with lies under the Syndicate could mean anything: how effectively was he taught? Did he even graduate? Likely not, since a fifteen year old brain could not fit the knowledge required for a twenty-two year old collegiate. Had the Consortium fallen so far that they were sloughing off a piecemeal education on their next generation, not caring if they learned so much as they obeyed? If so, the whole structure would collapse within a generation; but then, what structure did they have left to uphold? The selfish men who bought and sold for power were dying out, and the next generation might be willing to take what they could from the scraps. But then why--

And underneath all of those thoughts was the one Will was trying to isolate from but kept finding over and over in the files, typed up plainly in Dana Scully’s neat sentences: “...if it’s only by knowing where he’s been that he can hope to understand where he’s going, then I fear Agent Mulder may lose his course; and the truths he’s seeking from his childhood will continue to evade him, driving him more dangerously forward in impossible pursuit.”

~~~~~

Mulder stepped out of the treeline, gun in hand.

Will realized, as he stared at this man chiseled by regrets and promises, that he had been disappointed in his father a week or more ago. He’d wanted to respect him, had even thought he loved him in a way; but had still withdrawn from the concreteness of his father's weakness, just as his father had. The Mulder standing before him was every inch the former Special Agent Fox Mulder he'd read about: danger in his stance, fire and fairness in his eyes. He’d never met Fox Mulder, but Will was glad to have him back.

Mulder stopped his string of succinct commands when his eyes fell on the files, breath catching as he looked erratically from one copy to the next before flying back up to Will’s face. There was fear in his eyes-- good fear, alive fear-- and his words caught a few times before he asked, “William?”

Fox Mulder, Mulder. Dana Scully, Scully. Will Van de Kamp, William Mulder-Scully. He could live with that.

There wasn't anything to say, so William did what Samantha Mulder had taught him, letting his smile say everything for him. Mulder's face split into the exact same, wide-open beam: he, too, had taught William in his absence. And William knew-- he just knew-- that Scully had passed on her ability to read the layers of emotions dancing across his father's neutral expression. And he could live with that, too.

William watched his father's smile slip as he swallowed back crashing emotions. "I tried looking for you, years ago. When you were a baby. And later, when...." Mulder paused, miserable in his failures.

There was only one thing left to say. "You did."

~~~~~

Acknowledgements: Thank you to @television-overload for coming up with the original idea and for naming Will's older brother. ;)))

Thank you to @ghostbustermelanieking and @o6666666 for creating short, beautiful AU fics that ultimately helped me flesh out the format for this one.

Thank you (in no particular order) @baronessblixen, @welsharcher, @agent-troi, @dd-is-my-guiltypleasure, @suitablyaggrieved, @pianogirlxf, @samucabd, @herdingcats12, @cecilysass, @amplifyme, @slippinmickeys, @enigmaticdrblockhead, @annablume, @spidey-is-tired, @two-microscopes, @spidey-is-tired, @mariaann, @chavisory, @medicaldoctordana, @ibringyouasong89, @cyb3rpeach, @mindibindi, @two-birds-alone-together, @invidiosa, @jessahmewren, @living-in-unreality, @mollybecameanengineer, @tossingmyglossymane, @demon-fetal-harvest, @settle-down-frohike, @storybycorey, @thescullyphile, @scullys-scalpel, @perpetually-weirdening, @teenie-xf, @captainsugarcane, @frogsmulder, @paperheartsarts, @unremarkablehouse, @cutemothman, @my-spookybunnies, @lindz-dude, @sonictacocat, @freckleslikestars, @kiivitaja, @today-in-fic and more for always being willing to engage with my work (and enjoying when I engage in yours.)

Thank you to every single one of the fic writers out there. Your work nudged me gently along to this point; and without your leaps I wouldn't be making these steps.

And thank you to each and everyone of my mutuals and lurkers-- keep on keepin' on~!

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

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fourgods-nobrakes · 2 months

Text

heretic Rogue Trader ficlet

I'm still in chapter 2 but the first encounter with Uralon has been haunting me, so here is a small horny fic where my Rogue Trader also can't stop thinking about it.

Seth von Valancius makes a bad decision and fantasizes about another one. Also on AO3.

Obscura isn't something a person with any ambitions can afford to make a habit of. Seth has known that since before he was old enough to get his hands on any, and it's no less true now than it was then, or later when his little syndicate was running black-market chems on a planetary scale, before Theodora's agents turned up to throw his life completely into disarray. But every once in a while, for a Rogue Trader who has access to the good stuff that's not cut with rat poison—not more than once or twice a voyage, tops—it's nice to have something a little more intense than amasec to relax with.

He tips a little powder from the last confiscated shipment onto the glass top of Theodora's desk, cuts it and lines it up with a shard of wraithbone blade, and snorts a nice long line of medicinal narcotic. His nose goes numb. The room slows down around him. His head gets a little floaty but not in a warp way.

He leans back in the too-fancy chair with its upholstery probably made from some creature that's been hunted to extinction. The warp shit... has been really weird. It would be, right, most people have at least the vague idea that warp travel is a nightmare. The layperson has no idea how fucked up it really gets.

Seth's throat itches. He rubs at it. There should be bruises there, or burns, or something. A mark on his skin instead of just in his mind. The vision on the way out of the Kiava Gamma Manufactorum was so intense, so vivid, he can't get it out of his head. He can feel that collar and the weight of the chains hanging from it, the chill of the floor seeping into his knees. His heart's speeding up now thinking about the looming, giant figure standing over him, the balefires, the voice that felt like it was shaking his bones. The taste of Chaos in the air and on his tongue.

Fuck, he could have gotten smeared to paste there. It wouldn't even have taken a weapon. The Obscura makes his skin tingle and his mouth feel dry as he falls into the memory. The giant armored hand gesturing in welcome, when it could have crushed his skull so casually. He unbuttons his trousers and reaches in; the Obscura means the first stroke down the length of his cock makes him dizzy, the ship swimming around him like he's back on that cold plasteel floor. He groans, closing his eyes to focus more on that image.

The Chaos Marine close enough to touch. The synthetic smells of the manufactorum overwhelmed by blood and a strange, bitter incense unlike anything the Imperial Cult uses. The weight of the crackling, sparking chains as Seth tried to look up at his captor and couldn't focus on the imposing presence. The arousal he didn't dare pay attention to then and can't deny now.

He's breathing hard, rubbing his cock to the vivid drug haze—the low, rhythmic rumble of the Chaos Marine's voice, like a sermon delivered by distant artillery. The growl of power armor and the flutter of vellum as he moves, the cold ceramite of his armored fingertips against Seth's face, a perfect threat. In the vision Seth couldn't look at his face, but in the dream his eyes glow a cold yellow and his teeth are pointed when he smiles.

Hear your very blood calling, he says in Seth's memory, begging you to submit to me, and Seth imagines a ceramite boot pressing threateningly against his dick and comes just like that, sick warp purples blooming behind his eyelids and tiny psychic shocks crawling over his skin.

The room is swaying gently around him as he falls back in the chair. He doesn't want to open his eyes, and the shreds of sensation are still clinging to his mind. He feels more unsettled than relieved. Surrender is a dangerous thing to be kinked for in a role like his, even when he doesn't really act on it, even when it's just an Obscura dream.

Well. He won't make a habit of it.

#rogue trader #male rogue trader #uralon the cruel

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dreamsclock · 1 year

Note

🐉

tgis one is more loosely linked but imagine cdream is crazy. like a dragon. fire emoji

warnings: torture, abuse, mental deterioration, toxic relationships, blood, injury, VERY dark c!madduo shit

“You’ve looked better,” is what Wilbur greets Dream with, a manic smile etching itself into his face, “then again, I bet you’ve been better too.”

Dream looks like a walking corpse - moves like one, acts like one, speaks like one: even when he clears his throat, it’s hoarse, gravelly, like he’s been shrieking and shrieking for hours upon hours with nobody around to stop him.

Maybe he has been. Wilbur thinks of Quackity and the blood under his polished nails and the splatters of blood on his clothes he thinks he’s cleaned completely, and his smile grows wider. He offers his hand out to Dream, sharp eyed, and pulls the other to his feet.

“You came,” Dream rasps, words barely understandable through the slur and gravel, “I didn’t-”

He staggers, and Wilbur doesn’t bother catching him; watches him careen into a wall instead, knocking his head off it and stumbling back. When his hands raise to his head, they’re coated in slippery red. For someone so weak and clearly struggling to stand, Dream is remarkably stubborn - he doesn’t ask for help, and Wilbur doesn’t provide any. If Dream is strong enough to be prideful, he’s strong enough to escape.

“You didn’t think I would?” He fills for his prisoner, chuckling. “You doubted me?”

For a second, the dead, hollow look in Dream’s bloodshot eyes sparks with anger, and Wilbur is reminded of how much of a ghost this Dream is of his Dream, the Dream who had shook his hand without hesitation and made a deal to destroy L’Manburg, the Dream who had been so strong and powerful, a god compared to this decaying form. “Yes.”

“Well, you doubted the wrong man.” With a clap of his hands, the bridge begins coming across - the Syndicate, though an institution he fundamentally disagrees with, is stronger than him, and he’s certain they’ve easily dispatched Sam and Quackity by now. “I wouldn’t leave my hero rotting in a place like this. What kind of devotee would that make me?”

Dream retches, and spits out blood. When he collapses on the bridge, he starts laughing: a horrible, wheezy sound that makes Wilbur’s skin crawl.

#> sparrow tag: old writing #tgis one was gonna be so awesome until i lost motivation

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poxinox · 2 years

Text

Meet the Muse: Mythrilon of Ul'dah

“No one but me determines my path. No one but me writes my own destiny and by the Gods I will march over and cut off the hand of fate itself to take control if I must."

Basic Info

AGE: 100+

ORIENTATION: Pansexual

GENDER: Agender transfemme- she/her they/them

HEIGHT: 7'0 / 210 cm

RACE: Elezen - Flamefolk / Void touched

Residence: Ul'dah

Relationship: Polyamorous

Occupation: Blood Mage / Sorceress / Tax Evader

Primary Element: Fire

Deity: Nald'Thal / Zodiark?

Relations

Mythrilon was born in Thanalan, descended from the Flamefolk Elezen. After running away at a young age, she has no current familial relations. Much of her relationships are purely for either business or pleasure, she keeps very few people close to her so long as they serve her interests. Her other source of relations has been through her sect of Nald'thal worship she runs under the nose of the main temple in Ul'dah. Some would call their rituals just a overindulgence in sex and other hedonistic pleasures veiled under the guise of piety. Yet, the elezen would insist their faith and reverence to Nald'thal is just as strong as any other acolyte, they merely differ in their intreptations of their God's ideals. Mythrilon is often considered an unofficial member of the Syndicate. Much of her operations exists within the underbelly of Ul'dah and conduct's business among more unsavory sorts. Though on the surface, some just know her as the rather aloof proprietor of several of Ul'dah's largest business ventures. She is not the warrior of light or has any connections to the Scions beyond a few brief arrangements with Tataru.

The Web of Ascians

Mythrilon did not simply stumble upon her wealth and influence. One hundred years prior to the events of ARR, Lahabrea had taken interest in the budding mage that was a young and haughty Mythrilon. Borrowing a body, he assumed the guise of a potential suitor and wormed his way into her life. He seduced and pushed her further down a path that would have her serve his interests. Though not everything was going to plan. Mythrilon found her heart wandering towards another. It was all very sudden as she was whisked away to Ishgard on the coattails of infatuation with her new lover. Yet, it did not take long for her romantic escape to Ishgard to completely shatter. Her lover blatantly showcasing his infidelity in public drove Mythrilon to make a choice that ultimately drove her out of the city. Lahabrea was there back in Ul'dah to greet the distraught and betrayed Elezen, taking the moment to reveal his true identity and intentions for Mythrilon, making her an final offer to give her true power. With his deal struck, Myth underwent a harrowing process. The experimentation warped the Elezen in both body and soul, effectively giving her immortality while also making her physically stronger and a much more potent mage. Despite the drawbacks of this ritual, Myth spent the next years carving out her stake within the city under the guidance of Lahabrea. Eventually meeting his fellow colleagues, Mythrilon also developed relations with Elidibus and Nabriales, sparking a decades long poly romance among all four of them.

The little things

Mythrilon is an avid coffee drinker who spends most of her time alone up in her high rise suite, looking over Ul'dah. Due to her nature, her body rejects attempts to eat most solid foods. She merely sleeps often and keeps her hunger fed through blood or other unsavory means. Often at her desk, tapping away at a typewriter, sorting through papers and other mundane task one such as herself would deal with.

When not dealing with her usual business partners or amongst her sect, she prefers to travel the city at night, visiting the few establishment that remain open so late. She keeps a small murder of crows trained to send messages as she needs. She also has a large pet cobra, though many question the exact nature of that beast.

Reference Sheet

Ask box open for any sfw/nsfw questions!

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #oc #trans oc #muse #headcanon #elezen #roleplay #rp

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hoetani · 2 years

Text

𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈. 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

✉ Relationship: Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

✉ Warnings: blood, mentions of a gun, mentions of feelings, sanzu, lil angsty I suppose

✉ WC: 1.3k

✉ A/N: The story’s nearly come to a close, maybe a few chapters left!! I feel so rusty writing this

⊵ next┆⊵ previous┆⊵ series masterlist

Coming home to the incessant ringing of your phone triggers a surge of regressed annoyance. Snatching it off the table, you glance at the caller and almost hurl it across the room, it’s a bleak reminder of the painful events that unfolded. It takes all of your composure to pick up with grace.

“What?” You ask, frustration leaking through. You’re not in the mood to talk to anyone right now, let alone Ran. Although he didn’t necessarily do anything wrong, you’re embarrassed to face him again, especially since you were so torn up about your traitorous kiss only to find your scummy boyfriend had been unfaithful.

“Helloooo…?” a bemused voice crackles through the receiver. Your exasperation washes away as soon as you hear the voice, one thing’s for sure, it isn’t Ran Haitani on the other side. Your head swims with a number of preposterous thoughts, what if he’s being held hostage by an international crime syndicate and they expect you to pay a ransom or better yet, someone’s stolen his phone and is calling every number to pass onto annoying third parties for some quick cash!

"Hello?" You reply with a healthy degree of uncertainty. Hand itching toward the house phone to call the police if necessary.

"I can’t believe it, the bastard has a girlfriend before me."

Confusion sweeps over you as you’re sidetracked by this stranger, “I’m not his –”

“The only person in his favourite contacts is his brother…and you, you must be someone pretty damn close to him.”

You splutter, unable to come up with the words to accept or reject his explanation, but there’s no denying the way your heart skipped a beat at the newfound revelation. He doesn’t care for your lack of response as he continues to talk, but everything drowns out as the next few words leave his mouth, “Ran’s bleeding out, mind if I bring him to yours?”

…

Everything is chaos. No more than two minutes later, the strange man from the phone barges into your apartment like he owns the place, plopping Ran down as if he weren’t bleeding a swimming pool. The whirlwind of confusing emotions comes to a halt as you’re filled with a bleak worry at the sight of his half-conscious body.

“Sanzu Haruchiyo at your service,” he smirks before surveying the room, whistling all the way, while twirling a piece of pink hair between his fingers. His eyes flicker over the furniture much too fast to appreciate any of it, “Nice place you have here.”

“What the hell happened?” You demand, ignoring his unbothered ramblings. Grabbing the first aid kit you impulsively bought for a spontaneous hike a year ago, you begin by peeling the muddy, blood matted clothes off. He’s still out of it, his hand subconsciously trying to push you away now and then.

He explains the situation between unhurried breaths as he continues his stroll around. His long-winded story causes you to turn a stern eye at the oldest Haitani, you can’t help but chastise him even as he’s bleeding out on your couch.

“You idiot! What were you thinking? Getting hammered and then starting a fight? In what world would that be a good idea?”

His eyes peek open as he calls out your name, missing a few syllables. The stench of alcohol makes your eyes water, you wish you had a clothes-peg to clog your nose.

“It’s your fault,” he slurs accusingly. Although it holds no weight, you find yourself reacting more dynamically – you blame it on the hysteria.

“My fault?! How’s it my fault?!”

His words blend to a halt as his head drops against the couch. Your eyes spark with concern as you turn to the only conscious man in the apartment for any sort of direction, but judging from the way he acts you doubt he’ll be much help.

“It’s just a bullet wound,” his scars stretch as he grins, “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish.”

“It’s not that, I don’t know how to help him!”

He notices the steady inclination of your voice and decides to take some pity on you, “I’ll get the bullet out, so go and help him relax or somethin’.”

You sit by Ran’s torso, pushing the sweat slicked strands away from his forehead. His skin is pale and shiny with moisture, his eyes flutter open now and then but other than that, he remains quiet. You make sure to monitor the rise and fall of his chest as a precaution.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” you whisper, but it seems like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him.

“Right, I’m gonna do it,” Sanzu warns as he picks up the sterilised tweezers from the tray.

Gently grasping his hand you give it a gentle squeeze. His body jolts when the tweezers make contact, low moans of agony filling the apartment. His brows are pulled down as you try to console him. Your meaningless words aren’t doing their job as he continues to writhe.

“Almost there, any second now,” you whisper into his ear. The unmistakable plink of metal against the plastic container has you releasing a breath of relief.

“It’s not over yet,” the pink haired man cautions and without warning, unscrews a bottle of liquor, takes a healthy swig and pours it on the bloody wound. Ran shoots up and you have to throw yourself on him to keep him down. His grip on your hand is agonising but you pull through for him.

The night peaks as Sanzu finally pulls out a wad of bandages and wraps it – surprisingly neatly – around his abdomen. After scrubbing him with a wash-cloth so he doesn’t track mud around the apartment, you and the pink-haired man drag him to your bed so he can finally rest properly.

…

Along with chucking you a few questionable pills you don’t dare let near Ran, Sanzu advises you to get some sleep, that everything would be okay now. That doesn’t stop you from sitting by his bedside for the remainder of the night, watching over him like a guard. You fret over every sound he makes, registering every wince of his face and twitch of his hand.

However, you must have fallen asleep as you jolt upright from the simple caress of your cheek. Just as quick as it was there, the warmth disappeared.

“I only wake up to your face in my dreams,” he gives a forlorn smile.

You don’t tell him that you feel the same. That you never thought you’d see this sight again, his messy bed head, and adorably droopy eyes. His groggy morning voice still sends shivers down your spine. Instead you look away, clearing your throat loudly, hoping to get rid of the lump in it.

He gets the hint and – thankfully – changes the subject, “Did you look at the folder?”

“I wanted to hate you for giving it to me,” you give him a wistful smile, “But I’m really grateful, thank you.”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

“Love always hurts me, maybe it’s just not in my cards.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It never works out! My first long term relationship in a while burned down in flames the other day. One more failure and my heart just might shatter.”

It’s a strange feeling, confiding in Ran after so long, just like the old times. The look on his face is bizarre and his mouth opens but just as he’s about to speak, the doorbell rings. He looks at you questioningly as you go to let the person in.

“I called Rindou.”

As the brothers catch up on last nights wild events, you set off to the kitchen for a warm drink. As the tea is left to steep, you check through your phone notifications, groaning at Yui’s missed calls. Promising to call her back later, your heart snags when you read over a work email.

‘If you’re ready to come back, we are now able to send a permanent manager to take your place in Roppongi.’

tagging: @q-the-rockaholic @rome-alone @chronic-claire-universe @prettyiolanthe @imjustaweirdnerd @himboos @touyasside @nalyana @rinrinfoxy @crown5 @hana-patata @minnieminnie00-got7 @shuujin

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ao3feed-crimeboys · 11 months

Text

Extinguished Sparks (That We Cannot Relight)

by W3llthatsprettyironic

Hands snaked down to wrap underneath his legs and back, pulling him back to rest snuggly against a chest. It was fuzzy, threads of yellow poking his cheek that he couldn’t resist pressing further into. And, most importantly, it was warm. Like the sun. Like flickering embers, giving out the last pieces of heat they could before dying.

He instinctively pressed his head into the elder’s neck, burying his face into the facade of safety it offered. Like he was back in his room, slowly drifting to sleep while wrapped in his brother’s possessive arms.

He was so tired.

---

or, Wilbur’s always tried his best to protect his little phoenix brother, Tommy, a fellow member of the Syndicate. but one slip-up can easily ruin everything :)

Words: 2032, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 13 of oh my god im writing angsty fanfiction about literal block men instead of attending therapy

Fandoms: Dream SMP

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Categories: Gen

Characters: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson | Philza, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Phoenixes, Phoenix TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Possessive Wilbur Soot, Protective Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit Needs a Hug (Video Blogging RPF), Alternate Universe - Wings, Serious Injuries, Blood and Injury, Gods, Goddess of Death Kristin Rosales Watson, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Confessions, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Cuddling, Memories, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Suicide Attempt

#ao3feed #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #crimeboys #crime boys #crimebois #crime bois #mcyt #This is an automated process #If you see any fic that breaks boundaries #or the fic is yours and you don't want it shared send an ask #it will be looked at and removed if need be

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fyeahnix · 2 years

Text

Title: The Syndicate Dog Pairing: Ash/Maggie (MadAsh) Other Characters: None Rating: Teen and Up for language Words: 676 Prompt: None Other Tags: Post-Match, Blood and Injury, Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Fist Fights, Injury Recovery, Flirting, Enemies to Lovers, Woof Summary: Maggie's defense; Ash's offense.

If you like it PLEASE REBLOG. You can read it here or on AO3, via the link found in the notes of this post. Please read on AO3 if you prefer correct formatting!

------

Maggie could take a scrap or two, whether down a back alley in Salvo or in the Apex Games. Ol' Wally might have stolen her thunder with that godforsaken cage fighting career of his, but she wasn't some defenseless sap. Been throwin' hands since she was two feet high. Black eye? Busted, bleeding lip? Cracked ribs? She's had it all.

Still didn't make it throb any less.

She hissed through her teeth at the disinfectant stinging her knuckles. They were shredded—skin peeled and cracked and crimson and blistering. It hurt like hell. The gloves she wore for protection were discarded off to the side. Thankfully, the med bay was empty this late at night. Sweet as. Didn’t need the entire cavalry knowing she ate shit earlier than expected.

"Stop. Tensing."

She cut her eyes at the simulacrum whose voice rang in two parts.

Adrenaline still rushed through Maggie, and it'd been a solid forty minutes since the brawl of the century on Olympus. Bones crunching under the weight of her fists had rocked her skull, loud in her ears; joints had popped out of place at odd angles. It was gratifying, a much-needed outlet at her first taste of true freedom and punishment for the sook jumping her Duos partner. So, no, "stop tensing" wasn't exactly on her fucking list of priorities.

Ash knelt beside her, tending to her wounds like some personal nurse. She had forced Maggie to shrug off the jacket to inspect her for damages. The protest and snarling hadn’t fazed her, and after rummaging through the cabinets for the proper tools, even got her to sit down. She worked with a level of dexterity and precision Maggie had never seen in any human being. Whether it was out of necessity in her previous life or a newfound skill, Maggie would never know.

"Do you regret forgoing proper medical attention now?" Ash asked, glancing up at her, voice unified once more.

"Piss off."

The simulacrum in question did not, in fact, piss off. She stared for far too long with those wolf-gold optics. A toothless remark, and if she'd been anyone else, Maggie wouldn’t have planted her arse in the first place. Lucky to have garnered some level of respect for her, even if she was just a tool of the warlord's sworn enemy.

Ash sighed before speaking again. "For what it's worth—"

"Not much…"

"—you fought… admirably. It's not often I see such bravery and finesse from humans, even in my Arenas." She dabbled more disinfectant across the cuts and scrapes on Maggie's arm and up to the angles of her collarbone, eliciting another hiss. "Too concerned with their own primitive survival instincts. No guts, no glory. Just cowardice and self-preservation."

Maggie rested her chin in her other palm. "If you're tryin' to say 'thank you,' you ain't gotta wax poetic about it. And—fuckin’ shit, that hurt—I know what my bloody skills are. I don't need no damn Syndi-cunt dog to tell me that."

"Hm. I'm sure you're aware, then, of how fiercely loyal canines can be?"

"Had a bunch of 'em."

"And I'm sure you're aware they don't tend to bite the hand that feeds them."

"What's your point?"

Ash's eyes brightened for a split second. A spark of humanity broke through—playfulness, excitement. "Then I'm sure you're aware they can also be… retrained. Under sufficient circumstances."

For once, Maggie cracked a smirk and leaned back into the chair, confident and swearing under her breath. It was absurd, sure, but Ash retained a buttoned-up and businesslike forwardness about her that Maggie had grown to respect. And, well, she hated to admit it, but it threw her for a loop long enough to divert her attention from having smashed someone's face to bits. Pain subsided, if only for several seconds.

But fine. She'd play along.

She closed the distance, face merely a foot away from Ash's. Blood and metal filled her nostrils. The golden optics sharpened to a pinpoint, focused solely on her. Maggie spoke—growled.

"Then heel, doggy."

#Apex Legends #Ash #Ashleigh Reid #Mad Maggie #Margaret Kōhere #MadAsh #writing #fanfiction #nix fics

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worldburnrp · 2 years

Photo

SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK presents RICHARD III

PART 2 : INTERMISSION.

As with any great tragedy, encounters either make, or break a scene. Morality changes in the blink of an eye, and fresh new loyalties spark before curtains fall. No character enters, and exits the stage the same being as they were before.

Pitch black now, in Central Park — save for stage lights still signaling audience paths. In the shuffling of the crowd, fate takes charge, and rolls a daring dice on how tonight will end.

Shakespeare’s words ring high, repeating themselves over and over in the crowd’s mind; each character hangs onto what feels truer to them. Is it really that fact imitates fiction — or the other way around?

In the tale of kings and wars they wage, The Brotherhood’s enemy is the same as it has always been. All they want is revenge: a leader jailed, in exchange for one that’s dead.

But ever virtuous, Brotherhood members aren’t ready to claim cold-blooded murder. The Syndicate, however, deals in that very coin.

Quid. Pro. Quo. A clean kill, for the territory wrestled over.

The Cartel isn’t ready for an attack, as they hold no guilt. Guards down, it’s all a game of taking aim, and making the shot.

OOC INFO

Part Two out of Four.

While open starters were allowed for Part One, they’re put on hold for Part Two. You aren’t required to drop threads from Part One, but we ask that no new threads are started then.

We also ask that Part Two threads are prioritized, as smooth development is key for this part. We also recommend the shorter, snappier format. This isn’t a rule always in place, but given the shorter nature of this event, it would be best suited. Don’t sleep on it: this event will run faster than most!

CHALLENGES

1. NARRATIVE CHALLENGE

50 POINTS will be rewarded to each character who participates.

Tag WBCHALLENGE on your post to get these points tallied.

The challenge consists of getting your character involved in the narratives outlined below, depending on what branch they’re in (gangs, civilians, etc). You can start threads with anyone you’d like, but the narrative given MUST be the driving force behind it — so, choose wisely.

While we encourage plotting through Wire, it will only ‘count’ once those interactions turn into threads seen on dash.

The narratives are:

THE BROTHERHOOD strikes a deal with THE SYNDICATE to have them kill THE CARTEL LEADER on their behalf. The payment? That sweet, sweet, formerly Diavoli territory they’d all been fighting for.

THE SYNDICATE LEADERS accept THE BROTHERHOOD LEADERS’S request, and the gang must organize themselves to kill THE CARTEL LEADER. Tonight.

THE GOVERNMENT also undergoes turbulence. Elections are soon, and decisions must be made. Are they aiming for re-election, are they quitting entirely? Did they beliefs change? Should they carry onto this path, or strive for change?

MEDIA & CIVILIANS are victims of it, too. Watching a show all about greatness and getting what you want by any means necessary, it sparks the question: are they happy, where they are? Or do they want more?

2. QUOTES CHALLENGE

50 POINTS will be rewarded to each character who participates.

Tag WBCHALLENGE on your post to get these points tallied.

For this challenge, characters are paired for interactions through Shakespeare quotes provided: out of the very play they are watching, Richard III.

Whatever route you take, is up to you — so long as the given quote is taken into consideration, and that you are writing alongside your assigned partner(s). The quote does not need to be spoken or explicitly a part of the thread, but can be if you wish.

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT is the name of the game. We encourage you to have your character enter the scene one way, and leave with somewhat of a changed perspective. This can be as subtle, or as intense as you see fit.

Should your partner(s) become irresponsive, you’re encouraged to make your prompt into an open starter instead. These open starters can be, and are encouraged to be replied by anyone who wishes to.

1. "Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, When such ill dealing must be seen in thought.” — Magnolia Dawns, Ludo Malatesta

2. "True hope is swift and flies with swallow's wings, Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.” — Tima El-Masri, Alan Dietrich

3. “So wise so young, they say, do never live long.” — Michael Sloan, Isabel Vasquez

4. "I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself. I am a villain. Yet I lie. I am not." — Michal Inoa-Naftali, Lev Movska

5. “Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe.” — Adam Starke, Samar Burman

6. “Bloody thou art; bloody will be thy end.” — Andrea Galan, Abel Rousseau

7. "My conscience hath a thousand swords, to fight against that bloody homicide." — Milo Ritter, Silje Erykssen

8. “What do I fear? Myself? There’s none else by. Richard loves Richard; that is, I and I.” — Val Malkovich, Manuel Narvaez

9. "No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity." — Adriene Padilla, Ava M Hollis, Lonnie Lewis

10. “My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.” — Lennox Monroe, Angelina Holbrook

11. "My conscience hath a thousand several tongues." — Odette Shaw, Rahi Kumar

12. “Tis better, sir, to be brief than tedious.” — Danny Elliot, Aoife Bryne

13. “What, do you tremble? Are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.” — Jack Malkovich, Dave Stoll

14. “As it is won with blood, lost be it so.” — Mathias Cain, Emine Avci

15. "There is no creature loves me, And if I die no soul will pity me." — Puck, Mirela Carter

16. “Now is the winter of our discontent.” — Vir Zafar, Samira Moradi

17. “And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.” — Lillian Okada, Hans Starke

18. “Thus I clothe my naked villainy with old odd ends, stolen forth of holy writ, and seem a saint when most I play the devil.” — Julian Berkeley, Catherine Creel

19. "Talkers are no good doers: be assured We come to use our hands and not our tongues.” — Lee Malkovich, Ingrid Cai

20. "True hope is swift and flies with swallow's wings, Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.” — Lola Villarin, Piper Holbrook

POINT SYSTEM

We’re so happy to introduce to you all, to our new point system. This is a tool we’ll be using to ensure high stakes equals high reward, and that the gameplay is made to be more interactive and fun than ever. Your hard work and beautiful writing means the world to us — and we want you to know it!

Please take a moment to read it over at /pointsystem and /store.

With this event, our offered rewards are:

1. KILL THE CARTEL: By the end of Part 2, the Syndicate character who has accumulated the most points will be the one who gets to kill the Cartel leader.

2. PROMOTION: By the end of Part 2, the character with most points (in any branch) will be awarded a promotion after the event ends. Restrictions apply; the character must follow the logical promotional steps, and the admins will work alongside the mun to find the best place for them!

3. FIND THE BODY: By the end of Part 2, the Law Enforcement / Cartel / Media / Government character who has accumulated the most points will be the one who gets to find the Cartel leader’s body.

* Should a character with the most points not want the reward, we’ll move on to the next highest, and so on. Only one reward allowed per mun.

Have fun!

#oc rp #crime rp #gang rp #mafia rp #mature rp #appless rp #semi appless rp #wb.event

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masqsims4 · 10 months

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News Around The World

Syndicated States of Strangreix

The hero of the Second Invasion, Ando Stovall, is officially crowned as Vengeance of Strangreix Ando Strangreix. As a teenager, he follows his grandmother's footsteps of becoming a world leader as a teenager and carrying on her legacy of ruling the wealthiest country on Earth. He his joined by his appointed advisor, Crux Fid Strangreix II (uncle), and his partner, Aarom Fid-Drodhoth.

Vengeance Ando does admit to being nervous, going from pauper to lost prince to war hero to king, but feels confident that he has a great support system in not just his court but his people. He claims to be asking for certain changes around the kingdom, with the approval of his court.

The people are happy to be free of tyranny and living under a blood-related monarchy again, but some have expressed their concerns of having a werewolf on the throne. How a Sixam alien prince managed to become a werewolf without dying is sparking some heavy debate around the world.

Strangerville Military State

After the Second Invasion, with the epiphany that Infected citizens could be hiding in plain sight, Strangerville once again has closed its borders until the entire population is genetically vetted as safe. Now that the new Vengeance has declared the Strangerville army independent of any country, the military is now free to conduct its quarantine as it wishes and make many alliances with other countries to bring its military might and scientific resources up to date.

With the loss of the Golden Needle, and Maximus Corp not willing to share its findings just yet, the Strangerville Army is looking to expand its scientific horizons to make an updated vaccine and genetic testing program to eliminate any Infected components of DNA. The current Strangerville research team is looking to move operations to nearby Chestnut Ridge, offering financial stability and environmental and cultural protection to the inhabitants in exchange to building one (1) research outpost. Talks are ongoing.

WhiteTree Forest

The coven is in mourning, switching their white robes to black, as their leader and modern day founder, Setarish WhiteTree, is finally laid to rest. It is customary for the coven to wear mourning clothes for a year, but the new High Witch, Rhomari WhiteTree, encouraged her members to take their time and cast their robes as they see fit. While many are left wondering of the coven's future, nothing seems to have changed on the outside. High Witch Rhomari has not issued any changes in laws, policy or traditions. Life seems to continue as it was for the spellcaster community.

Eighth Bastion

The small kingdom of vampires finds itself in a possible dark era. Both the Grand Count and Founder, Kristopher Lamia, and his son Victor Lamia, were killed in the Second Invasion, which leaves the young Nicolai Lamia as the next Grand Count and ruler. He will be throned and crowned to solidify his position within the next week, which would make him the youngest ruler crowned in history.

The widowed Grand Countess, Juri Uchibayashi-Lamia, will serve as regent until she deems the young Count ready to be a ruler. However, she has passed a new law that had been previously decided by herself and her husband, that next in line was to be decided by the heir's vampiric heritage and status rather than the gender at birth. Having vampiric boys had taken its toll on the previous two Grand Countesses, and Grand Countess Juri is still suffering from complications. The public has embraced this change, and promises to support it in the future.

Seindu Kingdom

The Kingdom of Seindu and the city of Brindleton Bay has always enjoyed an equal standing between royalty and its people. And King Tristiran has decided to proclaim a change in Seindu law to reflect this partnership. He announced that members adopted into the royal family will have the same equal standing in finding a king or queen as those born into the royal family, as long as the adopted share a common ancestor with the royal family. This has opened up discussion for the King's adopted daughter, Princess-honorary Nifsara La Croy, to take the throne if the royal family and the public desire.

Princess-honorary Nifsara has already shown her kindness, wit and dedication to the kingdom. However, the public does seem to favor kings, as queens do not have a good ruling track record and weren't popular with the public. The kingdom favors first born son, Prince Ari Seindu, to be the next king. But as the Prince is still a child, Princess-honorary Nifsara has a head start in proving herself worthy of being the next Seindu Queen.

Factions are beginning to form, and the Crown has constantly reminded everyone to be civil, respectful, and tactful with their support of royal heirs. No hatred or violence will be tolerated. So far, everyone has followed the rules, but favor of the next ruler continues to go to Prince Ari. Once the prince has aged into a teenager will the royal family make it's official proclamation.

Sulani

This morning, the environmental activist group and cultural protection society, The Island Divine, made a bid to the Council of Kings to be recognized as a ruling body of Sulani. The group has been controversial in not just its practices and treatment of its members, but also its aggressive tactics in spreading influence through different countries and cultures. Many rulers are not in favor of this "cult" and don't recognize it at a potential global power.

That being said, many members of different royal factions have joined the Divine's cause. The health brand Honey Clove was aquired by the Divine after it's founder, Princess-herald Miracle Inqai-Beerloith, was roped in through a whirlwind romance. Miracle's older sister, Princess-herald Miriela Beerloith, was a prominent member and financial supporter, until she fell in love and ran away with a non-member, and her reputation was tarnished since.

However, the Divine had been growing in power over the years, with the Sulani Conservation Society merged with them, they had become a growing authority in the island chain. That being said, even the Sulani native population is hesitant to let them become a government body or have royal power over the island. Talks are ongoing between the Council of Kings, the people of Sulani, and the Divine.

Komorebi Empire

After the death of the Fourth Emperor Kiraseindu-Yamaguchi Hanshiro, the country stood in long mourning. The country had also lost its prospective, but abdicated, Princess Ohara Miho, who had joined the fight in the Second Invasion to protect the people who discarded her. In their place, Queen-consort Yamaguchi Mai is holding the throne for the rightful heir of the now independent Komorebi Empire.

The agreement between herself, her husband and Emperor, and abdicated Princess, was for Ohara Miho's daughter, Princess Ohara Nadeshiko, to take the throne instead of her mother as a compromise for Ohara Miho's abdication. With Miho's death, Yamaguchi Mai is honoring this promise over her two children.

The country had grown so content with Yamaguchi Mai's grace and motherly stance that it was proposed to make her the next Empress anyway, which she had objected. Others have proposed that she make her first born son, Prince-consort Yamaguchi Mamori, the next in line, which she has also refused. The factions in Komorebi are growing more restless and tense, but all respect the Regent to act.

Faltal Industries (Oasis Springs) and Maximus Corp (Evergreen Harbor)

Two corporate industries have been recognized as world governing powers and their leaders invited to become part of the Council of Kings. Faltal Industries owner and CEO, Little Faltal, and Maximus Corp CEO Aarnav Gandhi-Maximus, now have seats with powerful world leaders.

Landgrave Little Faltal recently assumed power with their husband's permission. Former Oasis Springs land owner and "last of the Braie", Elrin Braie-Faltal, hadn't been seen since his parent's demise at home as he fought in the First Invasion. And while he did marry Little Faltal and had more children with them, Elrin had not been seen in public or made announcements in person or social media. However, all control of the Braie Industries company and land ownership of Oasis Springs was voluntarily handed over to Little recently, who merged the two companies into Faltal Industries and took control over Oasis Springs. This would be the second time the Faltal family had wrestled control from the Braie family to own all of Oasis Springs. Landgrave Little Faltal has been a controversial figure the world over, but has not responded to any criticism from the public or the royal family.

Maximus Corp has recently gained official power over Evergreen Harbor once the Golden Needle, the last remnants of Strangreix presence, was wiped out in the Second Invasion. The founder and former CEO, Cyrox McClure-Maximus, was previously listed among the dead of the Second Invasion, despite signing up for it and not being there. The revision was made after his wife, Tibia Maximus, explained that he attempted to personally invade Sulani to "kill all the mermaids." However, he suffered natural causes once they arrived, and the plot never came to be. Control over the company was given to heiress, Giuliana Maximus, who then passed it to her more business savvy husband, Aarav Gandhi. Gandhi had promised to put the company back on its more productive course of genetic testing, genetic therapy, vaccines and medicine, rather than its founding purpose of "killing all the mermaids," which he and his family publicly denounced. With Gandhi as head of the company, which now is the ruling power over Evergreen Harbor, this makes him the first human "king" in over eight hundred years.

New Sixam Empire, the Braieforma Alliance, the Tartosa Duchy

Even with the heavy loses and new changes in power, the territories have been peaceful and life goes on as normal.

#Sixam Royal Family #death tw #sim politics tw

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lil-tokyo-42 · 1 year

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Assassin of jazz Spike spiegel x Y/N

I am way to damn tired to actually try and recap what happened last time so i basically read my own draft

-After you and your new friends ate your food, Lucy was a bit concerned because ya'll were sent by Jason. Vicky had the right question to answer your curiosity. "How do you know Jason, Lou?" Lucy preferred if you called her Lou. "He was an old flame from the past, We broke up when i found out that he worked for a syndicate..." Lou went silent for a good minute, but picked up her confidence to speak again. " He would always come back with his blood or someone elses blood so I had to clean up after him" "Sooo it's like basically a romance TV show but it's a little bit...Sadder than it has to be?" Laura asked with the same level of curiosity that you had before. "Uhh yeah! You could put it like that"

-The rest talked but you could feel a cascading sense as if something was approaching you. Looking out the diner window you saw a shadow standing there holding a lighter, sparking it again and again. "Hey I'll um..Be right back." Walking out the diner as fast as you could but as calm as you could look. Outside was a woman with blonde faded hair with a red highlight on her bangs. Wearing a dark red button up shirt with a black dress jacket & shoes. Another thing was she had sunglasses so you could barely see her face. "Oh, hey kid. What do you want?" She asked in a tone as if SHE was the one who wanted something. But as if she wanted from you. "Why are you here? Can't you go smoke somewhere else? There's plenty of pla-" Cutting you off "Ah, Before you go on a rant... Let me ask you something"

-You had a bad vibe, but there were chances this woman was good. You didn't know what to do, y'know what? Fuck it. "Fine, ask away." You could just run back in the diner but, you could be careless. "You know the show Big Shot? The one that tells the bounties for the weeks?" It was quite popular ever since it aired. I mean it was one way to make some easy woo."The one with Punch & Judy?" Your memory was a bit foggy but you could remember watching your favorite show and it would cut off with Big Shot playing. Your father had to calm you down because you would cry every time it cut off "Bingo!" She said. "In this world it hunt or be hunted but what if you could feel like you weren't either of them?" She was trying to get your interest peaked and she did. "A world where you're on top you mean?"

-"Exactly"

-"You and I, think the same." She was right. And you couldn't deny it either. "What's your name hmm?" Asking you while handing you a card with the words "Syndicate of Lady Jo" (NOTE: I got the Lady Jo character from another head cannon of spike spiegel but i don't remember the name or author so if you know pls comment it) Thinking back to what Vicky said. ("What if i call you Delta, Delta Tokiyoma?) "It's Delta" It was better than any other name a stranger could call you. It was better than Curse even.

-"If you take my offer now, I can lead you into that type of world."

Ya'll im tired but still want to write so i'll probably post later today or tommorow. But good night/day Little ones!

#spike spiegel x you #spike spiegel #spike spiegel x reader

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racinguganda65 · 2 years

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Dasatinib stimulates oligodendrocyte differentiation as well as their safety in opposition to TNF-α from the activation in the fischer receptor PPAR-γ

Final results: 19 research including about 3700 contributors were included in the bottom line. The particular put final results proposed that lack of RKIP expression was connected with damaging OS (Hour or so Zero.Fifty-five #Link# , 95% CI 0.46-0.Sixty-five) and DFS (Hour or so Zero.Fouthy-six, 95% CI 3.30-0.62) between sufferers with digestive system cancer, whereas the main difference has not been in past statistics important in pancreatic cancer exclusively (Operating system, Hours 2.76; 95% CI 2.51-1.09; DFS, HR Zero.Seventy one; 95% CI 2.28-1.13). A conclusion: Decrease of RKIP phrase might be a completely independent signal of inadequate analysis within people together with digestive system cancers, which include esophageal cancer, gastric most cancers and intestines most cancers. Far more studies are required to even more clarify the particular prognostic price of RKIP inside pancreatic most cancers. Upcoming scientific studies, preferably big possible studies using formal sign assessment functions, are needed to create your prognostic value of RKIP prior to these kinds of final results may be medically applied.Background/Aims: We all aimed look around the #Link# immunological link between short-term emotional tension within apoptosis throughout peripheral lymphocytes along with different versions by sex and hormonal standing of people along with probable mediators with this discussion. Methods: Severe mind anxiety (computerized Stroop color-word disturbance and cool pressor tests) has been placed on adult men (in = 19) and ladies (n Equates to Of sixteen, in follicular along with luteal phases). Pulse rate along with blood pressure levels had been watched throughout the ensure that you as soon as the analyze until finally baseline ideals were noted. Liquid blood samples have been attracted for calibrating cortisol as well as n . o . (Zero) amounts and flow-cytometric mobile counting before the exam. Outcomes: Account activation with the tension method has been ascertained simply by increased heartbeat, blood pressure level along with serum cortisol ranges as soon as the check. In accordance with base line beliefs, serious mind tension changed the particular syndication involving Capital t and also all-natural great cellular material. There was clearly a substantial decline in T helper/T cytotoxic-suppressor mobile or portable proportion with an rise in apoptotic Big t asst mobile portion irrespective of sex or period stage. A greater variety of normal fantastic cellular material ended up being discovered in women, while it turned out diminished in men. Following strain induction, serum NO amounts continued to be the identical in females as well as improved in males. Although a new link has not been discovered among defense mechanisms alterations with no quantities, glucocorticoids seem to have a part in the seen variances. Summary: Intense #Link# psychological tension sparks apoptotic T helper cellular decline that was associated with strain system activation, and sex products and steroids affect the routine of stress-related defense mobile or portable submitting.

#Bortezomib #Dasatinib #Pentose phosphate pathway

0 notes

monotonemanday · 6 years

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Star Crossed Entertainers - Part 7

They’re back! 2 parts will be out tonight and they will both be shorter than the others! Simply because I need to take a break in between since it’s hard on my legs to type without my desk while I’m living in a closet lol. Hopefully parts will be coming out more consistently again! We’ve got more secrets revealed and obviously more angst!

Samantha opened the door swift enough for her hair to be blown back.

“Stop banging on the door! Yeesh! Get in here.”

“Oh did I...wake you?” Kaeli was smirking. She was definitely not convinced Sam was asleep.

“I was just out on the balcony is all.”

“Hmmm. Yeah.” A silence fell between the two as Kaeli began to change into a pair of shorts and Sam crawled into the left side of the queen bed in the guest room of Jumin’s penthouse.

“.......Jumin’s kind of loud huh?”

Samantha shot up at a 90 degree angle sitting up and gaping at the small blonde. “What? What do you mean?!”

“I mean, he’s not loud per say he just has a deep voice so it’s easier to hear when-”

“WHHOOOAAAKKAAYYY! We’re done. Not talking about this. Stop.”

Sam was blushing and Kaeli couldn’t help but smile like she was deranged.

“SAMMY!!! YOU LIKE HIM. YOU LIKE A BOY. YOU WERE IN BED WITH JUMIN HAN WEREN’T YOU?! OH MY GOOOSSSSHHH! I AM SO EXCITED! WHAT IF YOU GET TOGETHER? WHAT IF WE GO ON DOUBLE DATES. GASP!!!! DOUBLE WEDDING!!!!”

“Kaeli, stop. Keep your voice down. It’s not like that. I wasn’t in bed with him. (I mean, they weren’t banging quite yet.) Nothing is going to come of this.”

Samantha’s voice was cold and distant. Kaeli’s excitement dwindled in an instant.

“Why Sam? Because you’re scary? Because you were ‘meant to be a lonely person’? Because you can’t let people get close to you? Because of your past? God I am so sick of this! I am so sick of you treating me like a kid and trying so hard to let me live a normal life, despite our situation but not doing anything for yourself!”

Kaeli was climbing into the opposite side of the bed, her voice was sharp and her mood was uneasy but her actions didn’t mirror the fact that she was incredibly chuffed at her best friend.

“I don’t know how many times I've had to say it in these past couple of days but stop talking to me like that, Kay. A lot is happening. A lot is going to continue happening. Big things. I know you’re not a child. I just...”

“I know Sammy. I’m sorry. It’s just that I hate this. We’re in such a weird spot in life. We could either have anything and everything we want, or we could live normal average lives.”

The pair laid on their backs staring at the ceiling, listening to nothing but the curtains from the balcony doorway flapping in the breeze.

“Tomorrow I have to go to headquarters. I’ve always been reckless but this time I may have gone too far. Reagan is going to be at the meeting too. Are you coming?”

“I am. Baba is probably pretty mad I haven’t been around in awhile. So what are we saying about your hand?”

“As far as everyone else is concerned...Reagan did it.”

Kaeli wasn’t dumb, she knew there was no way Sam would get injured like that by the hands of Reagan. “And as far as the truth?”

Sam took a pause and let out a heavy sigh. “I did it to myself.”

No more words needed to be exchanged. The girls were exhausted. They each rolled on their sides with their backs to each other and fell asleep almost immediately.

Stepping out of the shower he wrapped one towel around his waist and used a smaller one to towel off his deep raven hair. Once it was dried enough he laid the towel across his shoulders and rested his hands on the counter. Looking in the mirror he noticed large bags under his eyes. Jumin didn’t get much sleep. His mind was racked and far away all night. After Samantha left his room he did nothing but sit up and think about what had just happened. What was this? Did he have feelings for this woman? Was he not feeling well? Acting on impulse? Was he acting like his father?

No. He didn’t know what this was or what he felt exactly. One thing he did understand was that he enjoyed her company. The night of the party, when they talked in the VIP booth he felt comfortable, calm and warm. He hadn’t stopped thinking about finding her. Then when he did she was cold and distant but he waited. He waited and she eventually came. And he was excited. This woman. Samantha. She sparked his interest and Jumin loved curbing his appetite for curiosity. He wanted to know more about her. He had learned about her past, and her questionable employment. It hadn’t bothered him and he knew that there was more he was missing.

Jumin gently slapped his cheeks to snap himself out of his thought. Right, these bags under his eyes. “Where was that cream that Ms. Kang suggested for these dark circles under eyes?”

After about 20 minutes Jumin was dressed and ready for the day. All that remained was picking out a tie. As Jumin sorted through his tie rack his cell phone rang. It was his father.

“Father, Hello. I’m just about to head to work. To what do I owe the pleasure? Oh? Is that so? ...I see. Father I think that’s rather unreasonable if you would just- ...No, of course. I understand. Yes Father. Thank you.”

Jumin hung up his cell phone, shoved his phone in his pocket and began to tie the silk black tie he picked out.

Once Jumin entered the living area in the penthouse he noticed it was irritably quiet. He backtracked and peaked into the guest room. The bed was made and there was no trace of anyone having spent time in the room at all. Noise was coming from the kitchen.

“Ah, good morning Mr. Han. Sorry to disappoint you but it’s just me.” Vanderwood was making himself a cup of coffee.

“Sam and Kaeli left early this morning. Kaeli told me to thank you so much for letting them stay here, that your home is very beautiful, that she loves your cat and uhm let’s see there was one more thing...”

“And Samantha?” Jumin raised an eyebrow at the long haired brunette man.

“Oh she said thank you as well, just in a lot less words.”

“I see.” Making his away to the coffee machine Jumin decided he would try to get as much as he could from Vanderwood. He knew he wouldn’t get far. He was some sort of super agent and he practically raised Samantha. He already got a gist of how closed off and secretive Samantha was so Vanderwood wouldn’t be a tough egg to crack. He decided he’d start off with something to peak his interest.

“Mr. Vanderwood,”

“Ah, you can just call me Vanderwood. No Mr.”

“Very well, Vanderwood. I received a phone call from my father this morning regarding a pretty illustrious event. His old friend Kang-Dae is throwing an annual party. My father always attends but he told me that Kang-Dae invited me to join as well. Apparently there is someone he would like me to meet.”

Vanderwood had his coffee cup to his lips and he paused. Kang-Dae. A name he was never happy hearing.

“Know any reason why he would be inviting me, Vanderwood?”

“Look. I’m not really on the up and up with you corporate cats. And dealing with Kang-Dae...well, that’s more of a Samantha and Kaeli thing. There’s still a lot that you don’t know. You’re a smart man so I don’t feel like there is any advice that I could give you to be helpful.” Vanderwood stood up, grabbed his jacket off of the back of the couch and made his way to the door. “I’ll leave you with this, you seem like a very calm, rational man who lives a very ordinary, rich business man type of life. If you’re willing to have that taken away, or shaken up, by all means keep pursuing all of this. If not, I’d forget all of us who aren’t members of the RFA and get back to that money grind, corporate prince.’

Jumin silently sipped his coffee and Vanderwood looked over his shoulder before making his final exit.

“Oh right, I remembered the last thing that Kaeli wanted me to tell you.”

“And that was?”

“Well I don’t agree with it but...she said, don’t give up on Samantha.”

The car pulled up to the towering building. The driver opened the back door and the doorman had approached the car, Offering his hand to usher them out. As the two ladies walked through the halls, and took escalator and elevator one after the other, doors were held, people greeted them with smiles, bowed out of respect and didn’t over step any boundaries.

Kaeli was wearing a yellow sundress. The straps were wide and the neckline went straight across. The dress hugged her hips and sat far above the knee. She had white wedge heeled sandals that tied at the ankle. Her hair was worn down and on top of her head was an oversized sunhat that matched the color of her dress. Samantha was wearing a high waist pencil skirt, black, a silk burgundy camisole tucked into the skirt underneath a long sleeved grey cardigan. She was wearing stiletto heels and walked in them with flawless dignity and grace. Her hair was softly curled and pushed to one side.

They reached the top floor and two body guards opened the large cherry wood double doors. Ushered inside the girls stood in the center of the entrance while the doors were closed behind them. Samantha cleared her throat to make their presence known.

Steps led down to a large leather sofa and matching square leather chairs. Across the seating area, stairs led to a large marble desk. The entire back wall was made of ceiling to floor windows. A view over the whole city. Reagan stood to the left of the marble desk. He was wearing a 3 piece suit. He cleaned up nice but he certainly didn’t look as good as Jumin or Zen. Reagan was by no means bad looking, he was actually quite handsome but he was a monster and a snake. To the right of the desk stood the madam, dressed in her normal gaudy robes and too much make up. She should have been at the Night Club working either the regular floor or the VIP areas. The fact she was here instead of on the clock said something.

Sitting at the desk was an incredibly built man. His chest was very defined, his shoulders incredibly broad and his biceps were like mountains. This man looked like he lifted trucks for a living. Seriously, how did this guy fit in a suit? His hair was slicked to the left. Kang-Dae. Respected business man, property owner, donator to politicians and charitable causes, father, crime syndicate leader, mafia don and the biggest king pin in the area. He was going over documents. The sound of Samantha clearing her throat broke him from his work. He stripped off his reading glasses, stood up and outstretched his arms.

“My girls!” He smiled widely and Kaeli ran to the man to be picked up in a spinning hug.

“Baba!!”

“My little princess, it’s been awhile! Is Samantha keeping you caged up again?”

“No Baba! I’ve just been so busy with the new musical I am in! Sammy isn’t keeping me locked up. In fact she’s always busy! I never see her. You work her too hard.” Kaeli pretended to pout.

The large man set her down and looked toward the door where Samantha was still standing. Her arms were crossed and he immediately noticed the bandage on her arm and hand.

“Samantha...come here.”

Sam walked around the outside of the lounge area and passed directly by Reagan. He was sweating and his eyes were darting around nervously. She smirked at him.

“Sam...what happened? Were you being reckless? Was this your temper? Did a client get handsy? You tell me. This instant.” The man grabbed her face roughly in his hand.

Time to act. Samantha jerked her head to the side, pretending like she didn’t want to look him in the eyes. He let her face go and changed his approach.

“Samantha, if someone hurt you then it means things got out of hand. You’ve always been able to defend yourself. I need to know who did this so they can be punished.”

“It’s nothing. It’s fine. It just happened because, well, I didn’t want to cause you anymore trouble.”

“That’s a first.” The madam scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Silence.” The man didn’t have to raise his voice to make an impact. “Samantha...tell me.”

Enter Kaeli. The two were a team after all. “It was Reagan! He came to the apartment again. Demanding Sammy accept a marriage proposal! It’s becoming every other night now! She tried to get him to leave but he just wouldn’t.” She sounded distraught, traumatized even.

“She’s lying! I never went over there! Sam came to me and-”

It sounded like a battering ram breaking through a door. Kang-Dae had made his way to his son and cracked the back of his hand across his face. Cuts and the imprints of large rings broke his skin underneath large amounts of blood. The madam rushed over and tried to offer Reagan a handkerchief but was stopped by the brute mans deep voice.

“Leave it.”

“Kang you can’t do this! Those girls may be the Princesses of The Spark Blood Syndicate but this is your son! Your own flesh and blood! My son! Our Son! Whether you acknowledge us or not you can’t just-”

Another smacking sound. This one not as hard or as loud. Just enough.

“I’ve spoken my piece with both of you. Out of my sight.”

Reagan wrapped his arm around the madam’s shoulder, and holding his face, escorted her, his mother, out.

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yostressmininggirl · 3 years

Text

Menestheus

Pair ¦ Syndicate x Reader (All Canon; Technoblade, Philza, Niki, Ranboo)

Count ¦ 3700+ words

Warning ¦ Blood and war mention, out of canon for obvious reasons, there is a prologue for this.

Summary ¦ The newest member of the Syndicate is supposed to be a fearsome friend of Technoblade. You’re no monster, not a feared fighter in combat, but somehow next to them seems like the most natural place to be in. At least in the eyes of everyone else.

Despite being an obvious fact, it seems to have passed everyone’s heads that Technoblade had been somewhere far before being called on to the lands of the Dream SMP. But it was a topic seldom spoken about for many reasons that everyone had come up with, tho if you were to ask the half piglin man himself, he would answer as simple and concise:

“Because no one asked?”

The existence of Philza and the demeanor of Technoblade felt like enough of an answer for anyone. And besides, Philza never really said any other detail that would say anything else about Techno, not knowing the fact that even the immortal had limited knowledge over the topic either.

So when Techno talked about recruiting outside help for the Syndicate, an honorary member that hails from a background of actual anarchy, everyone calmly lost their shit.

“HOW COME YOU NEVER TOLD US ABOUT THIS BEFORE?!”

“HEH?! Because it just came up???”

Fair enough. And the meeting goes as usual, except everyone else on the table are preoccupied with thoughts and theories in their heads of this inbound newcomer to their little gang and ultimately, the server.

The trust and respect that drips off from Technoblade’s words made them picture a more intimidating version of the Blood God, drenched in blood and parading with hundreds- no, thousands! - of withers in their entry. Lands of anarchy are full of chaos, griefs and explosions, right? What if the current state of L’Manberg were magnified to happen to the whole SMP?

Safe to say that Technoblade was the only one present in mind during the duration of the meeting, something about the updates regarding the Egg. Ranboo in particular was more aware of everything else going on outside of the things Techno was talking about, how Philza and Niki were staring with a thousand year stare, and something akin to falling rocks somewhere in the stronghold.

So when the ceiling directly above the table suddenly collapsed and a figure fell with the dust from the fallen debris, everyone stumbled over themselves with frantic shouts of confusion, trying not to fumble with their weapons and equipment to confront the intruder. “Technoblade!” The Syndicate members froze at the unfamiliar voice, said figure leaping off the table to tackle the man in question, “You didn’t give me the proper directions, you idiot!”

“Heh?! Wait, wait, you’re here already? I haven’t even done the mysterious introduction for your arrival yet!”

“Stop stalling and just hug me already, nerd!”

Menestheus, the sixth member of the Syndicate.

The things Technoblade, Protesilaus, spoke to everyone about the new recruit was nothing like the real deal. Perhaps it was due to their imaginations sparking about the anarchaic reinforcement that seems to have earned the Blood God’s respect overestimated your true form, because not a drip of intimidation comes from you as everyone else watched you chatting next to Technoblade.

You donned simple, casual clothes with no hint of armor on you, just a hint of freshly made iron tools that you used to mine your way to the meeting room. The smile on your face as you caught up with your old pal felt too carefree. And the way you had to crane your head to look up to the Piglin hybrid felt cuter to look at than anything else.

Soon enough after the initial incident, the rest of the group introduced themselves to you and it went smooth sailing from there. As you were new to the server, there were a lot of things you lacked before you can fully settle in so the rest of the meeting ended up being an informative talk and planning of your settlement for now.

Given the basic directions of where the things are beyond the tundra such as the village area and where the spawn area was, the older man couldn’t help but be amused of how easy you settled into the routine. Watching you flee from your house at the start of the day, coming back from your foraging and mining with plenty of items from the overworld and nether.

Or he had assumed you’d done that seeing as your trusted friend lived in the area.

The snowy tundra was a harsh environment that lacks the necessities a simple plains or forest could give, so it was a huge surprise to Philza that you chose to hang around their ‘retirement’ area for a permanent home.

The avian hybrid wanted to offer help, he really did, but it felt obtrusive and belittling considering your status to think that you couldn’t live by yourself.

What really sold Phil came from a random night out, when his curiosity gave him more than an answer.

Your sunny routine turned into after dark rendezvous, and he always caught a whiff of gunpowder every time you two would greet each other for the day. TNT probably? Explosions are after all a usual in the world you lived in as well as tied to their ideals.

Yet when you stood a few miles away from the snowy plain, past the snowy hills that crowned the houses, the curious bird cautiously followed as sneakily as he could. He was a good distance away and out of sight when catching up, an invisibility potion in his hand in case he needs to go for that measure.

Why was he so paranoid when he trusted you in the first place? Philza was really just into the unknown more than he cared to admit.

“You can come out, you know? I can’t really hurt you for multiple reasons anyways,” there was a chill breeze of air before Phil finally moves on from the initial heart attack, stepping out of hiding spot from behind the tree to see you just a few feet away. How you came over so fast without making noise was beyond him.

“How did you even find me? I was sure I was being sneaky,” he didn’t miss the way you looked past his shoulder to look at his wing, the damaged one, and he fought all the urge to retract them in shame.

There was a curious hum as you tilt your head, proceeding to ignore his question with another, “Do you know about elytras? I heard a lot about how wise and old you are from Techno.”

He would have laughed on the implications, he would have answered (if it was a lie or an honest one, he didn’t know) but when you took off your cloak, he couldn’t help but feel enamored. The familiar scent of gunpowder entered his senses as you held the firework in your dominant hand, the glistened wings flexing behind you.

Technoblade woke up to distant laughter the next day from the two people he trusted the most. And when he walked out of the porch to greet you two, he commented on just how messy your hair were akin to a bird’s nest. With this Philza shared a look with you before doubling over in laughter, leaning on each other to keep yourself from falling on the snowy ground in a fit.

Niki looked over her shoulder after taking out the best bread she had baked yet during a tour to her underground city, when she saw your awed expression at the grand expanse of her project. This was at the time when you had finally settled in the lands of the Dream SMP, where a majority of the people finally knew about you and toured you around the area, some even inviting you to their territories and factions.

The nightly routine of lending wings and exploring became a sacred ritual between the two of you, fighting over who was better at gliding as you traversed the world together in amazing speed. There would be a new and unbreakable bond between you two, something everyone else had noticed with a smile.

But of course, you’d refused on the offers.

“Damn, this is already huge for a one-man project,” Niki giggled at the compliment, almost missing the melancholic flash in the eyes of her companion as it sweeps the area one last time. You gave a firm nod, mocking an art critique as you inspected more of the floor, “the craftsmanship of the stone brick path is truly a technique used by a building connoisseur, astounding.” The giggles turn into a fit as it reverbs against the walls.

While passing by the prime path, you stumbled upon the city entrance and decided to investigate, realizing that it was Niki’s doing who was more than happy to show you around. It was her proudest work yet.

“Do you need help of any way?” The female tilts her head in confusion before warily refusing the offer, making you gasp in offense after realizing her thought process. “I know how to build and stuff, I know what you’re thinking! Even in anarchy servers, building is still essential and can be beautiful- Niki, don’t you dare laugh at me!”

“Thank you, thank you.” Niki mocks a bow before continuing her tour of the specifics this time, offering you her baked goods during the end when it was finally in the best temperature.

Of all things to happen today, making an anarchist flustered was not what Niki expected, but the exhausted look and flushed face totally made her day. It was the best company she had yet and after some more reassurances (the cottage you made did indeed look nice and cozy), there was planning of materials and more expansion left. The iron blocks were priority for a complete beacon and you took it upon yourself to mine the remaining blocks needed for full power.

Niki stood in the main room by dusk time with leftover chatter, finalizing things before you left for the day despite the dangers of night time. But the time didn’t seem to bother you that much, not after you finally got yourself a full enchanted netherite set.

That was the plan until multiple, uninvited footsteps start descending from the entrance.

She didn’t think much of it until she realized you were already stancing yourself next to her protectively, eyes squinted at the top of the staircase where three familiar silhouettes slowly descended.

“Well hello there, Niki! And (Y/N) is here too, fantastic!” The Eggpire. Niki instinctively steps back at the sight of you stepping forward, an arm stretched protectively in front of her. “The Egg really, really wants to negotiate the terms of you two joining. Especially you-”

“We’ve already made it clear that we don’t want to join, Bad.”

“Ah but that’s the thing, muffin. The Egg wants to talk to you two directly now, it’s sure you won’t refuse this next talk,” the Eggpire trio suddenly brandished their axes and shields. “And this time, we won’t accept any refusals.”

Before any of them could step forth, Niki watched the series of events happen in what feels like a split second after you pushed her back, further away from the inevitable fight.

You splashed down three potions in a matter of a split second, the particles around you a strange mix of colors. Niki recognized strength and speed from the bottle, but there were dull red particles surrounding you from the first unknown bottle you threw.

From the first sign of defiance, the three enemies already seemed irked and dashed into battle. The fire aspect enchantment didn’t seem to phase you in the slightest, while the three males always backed away to replenish their hearts a few seconds. Niki watched with her feet glued to the floor in astonishment at how well you were holding yourself.

Their fatigue had you laughing as you chugged another extended potion of the dull red particles (Niki came to find out it was the first tier of the potion of turtle master, realizing the speed potion countered the slowness effect), knowing full well that you’re going to end this match soon. And pulled out your secret weapons that the three on the staircase realized too late.

Niki turned away with her hands pressed tightly against her ears as two explosions set off. And then silence came afterwards. Fearing for the worst, she turns back to the staircase-

Only to see a stray obsidian block and three corpses on the floor, not a single block in her underground city were destroyed. Somehow Niki felt her breathe stuck in her throat.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt by the crystals? I’m sorry if it did, it was just the easiest way to dispose them!”

The next time you two met after that encounter happened in your home this time. As a little thank you gift, Niki thought it would be nice to bake a cake for you with nice lettering in sweet syrup over it. She didn’t expect Technoblade to come by there first, beckoning her over to the double chests placed against the walls of your basement filled with multi-colored tipped arrows.

“Do you want the tea or not?”

You may not be as good as Technoblade in full on combat, but your arsenal of tricks and equipment earned Niki’s full respect and a hint of fear. At least the cake was full on delicious.

Despite the numerous meetings that had passed, the way they go always managed to replicate the atmosphere of casual friends hanging around with serious business. As the Syndicate’s espionage and info broker, Menestheus was in charge of keeping the most up to date with everything important in the SMP for leverage, because ‘leverage is good’.

“For the last time, it’s called an intelligence report.”

The kind of information they always unearth always astounds Ranboo, sometimes it was unnerving just what you can find. From hidden things to secret conversation you somehow heard. Even knowledge no one else knew as something you kept from the previous places you’d been in.

“So here’s the tea-”

“You know this? What- what does it say?” He was a bit flustered for a second at the thought that his mind entered ender state to make him write in Enderman language.

“Lethe? Ranboo?” The enderman hybrid snapped out of his stupor to realize that the meeting already ended, somehow he’d completely blanked out during the whole thing. And when he looked down at the paper he brought to take important notes as the unofficial minutes man, it was filled with otherwordly symbols he himself couldn’t understand. “Huh, that writing seems familiar.”

“I think uh- I think I read about it in the stronghold library, we can go there if you want-” Without another word, he was already stood from his seat in his full height, eagerly following you over to a random wall. The last thing he remembered before disappearing to the rest of the stronghold was Phil’s screaming about ‘breaking the walls and ruining the aesthetic.’

The next time Ranboo came back to his mind was a memory he could never forget no matter how hard he tries.

The first thing that registered in his mind was the heavy weight of a sword in his hand, before a blood splatter suddenly sprayed onto him. The purple particles around him seemed to depict his frazzled self, blinding and overwhelming him to step back from the scene. A scene he just caused.

“Good, good, you’re finally awake,” there was a quick flash of bright green at the edge of his peripheral vision, but the red was too distracting for him to notice.

The shield with Ranboo’s sword embedded into it slowly lowers before finally dropping to the ground, revealing your injured and scuffed state as you glared at the treeline in the distance, trying hard not to show your pain from the stab wound on your side. An angle that came from the breached weapon.

He didn’t know what to do other than panic, hovering over your figure as he noticed more and more injuries from other places. Did he do all of that? What in the world had happened? Ranboo wanted to help desperately yet the fear of hurting you again pushed him back into making any contact.

It wasn’t until you placed a fairly stable hand on his arm did he finally break from his frustrations, seeing your reassuring (yet still tired) smile after you gathered up your thoughts. There were no potions or food left between the two of you to help with your weakened and weakening state from a leftover poison arrow.

“Where are we- what happened to you?”

“I saw you wandering around in your ender state so I came to check on you. We’re very far away from the mainland,” Ranboo suspected you were omitting a lot of details but didn’t dare press on it, opting to help you up from your slouching form on to his back. “I’m glad I checked up on you, that skeleton cold have gotten your first canon life.” You laughed to lighten the mood, but Ranboo was too busy devising a plan on how to go back with half a heart left in you.

God, how would Technoblade react if he found out he was the cause of his friend’s first death?

“You know you can just leave me here-”

“No! You know I can’t do that!” Breaking through the forest, the sight of a large expanse of a desert almost broke Ranboo’s resolve, more so when nightly terrors started spawning in the terrain. No sign of a village nor any food to help in recovery.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, finding no energy in you to laugh about your predicament. Trying again on convincing Ranboo to abandon you, it surprised you when he instead pulled out an ender chest from his inventory. “Take this, please, it’s all I had that can help but it should be enough,” the glow of the item in front of you had you gasp, calloused hands grasping the enchanted golden apple with great hesitance.

“But, these things are so rare here, Ranboo.”

“What’s the use of their rarity if you don’t use them at all? You need it, so please take it.” You heard about the tales of this apple that he collected from voyaging the vast world of this server, and the weight of his work rests in your hand as you took a bite. You made a silent vow to replace it in the future.

It was around day break of many nights after that you and Ranboo finally arrived back in the tundra, bruised and tired from the long walk from here to there. You both wanted nothing more than to hibernate for three weeks like Technoblade, but when your intercoms suddenly buzzed from a private message, you knew that plan would be delayed.

“You two look awful.”

“Thank you, you look quite dashing yourself, Tech.”

Despite the limited ventilation, the Syndicate’s meeting room felt more comforting than the outside as you practically collapsed on your designated seat, Ranboo replicating your action next to you. Philza and Technoblade had an inkling of what may have happened when they tried to look for the both of you in your respective homes, but refrained on commenting as the table chatter came on updates on the progress of everyone’s works.

There was a silence in the room that didn't fit the usual atmosphere it held despite the seriousness of the meetings, and everyone refused to acknowledge the elephant in the room including you.

Halfway through the meeting, the quaint space was affected by dual snoring and the rest ended the session for the betterment of the slumbering duo.

Technoblade’s ears flicked once again and he fought the urge to turn away from his work, trying to have a moment with chat while ignoring the teasing voices here and there. No, he was totally not aware of the eyes aimed at him, not at all aware of the stare that kept following his movement.

“Did you need something?” That sucked, bro.

In all honesty even he was unsure of his own sudden demureness on the situation. Perhaps if it was a situation from before he would have already talked up a storm, yet in the moment there were no excuses on why he was being like this, to an old friend, of course. When nothing changed besides the location.

“Nothing really.” And the conversation ended as quick as it started. And once again he was alone with the mocking, nagging voices in his head intensified from his shit attempt.

Kinda scary. No, no, they’re probably bored. You should go chit chat. What kind of host. Technoscared? He’s flustered. Defo.

He left in good terms, he made sure of that, and yet he’s still having a hard time trying to make eye contact or small talk.

“Don’t,” he breathed in, exasperated, aiming to turn to stop your spiel. “You feel guilty, you’re not at fault for leaving.”

“I know- I know. But still, I left in the middle of a war to wage another, and here I am. Betrayed one after the other, I don’t think I accumulated good enough karma.” He didn’t like the pity that came from your eyes but he knew it was probably the best he could get, it was natural that you’d react this way.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t survive the anarchy without you?” If not for the teasing lilt in your voice and the taunting smirk, Technoblade would have gone into a flurry of excuses, “Come on now, I don’t want to come in this place just to be a reminder of the past. Besides, you didn’t even know shit, you were hibernating.”

“Fair, fair,” defeated like usual, the piglin breed instead spread his arms begrudgingly (at the suggestion of the voices, he swears) while averting his gaze in embarrassment. You’ve always expressed yourself with hugs, and the both of you needed to tie this loose end even if it was only like that for his perspective.

He was definitely not touch-starved.

At the feeling of your arms looping around his frame, his form slackens in instinct, leaning on you slightly as you enjoyed each other’s company after months of being separated. There was a lot of catching up to do on both sides, but as he revels in the silence of the voices and the tundra, at the familiar scent and warmth of you being nearby he wants nothing more than to pass the time enjoying the moment.

“Why is your hair short?”

“Uhh, something about a tournament, got it cut in the process. I won tho.”

“Yeahh, that’s what I thought.”

“...You don’t like it?”

“...It’s cute too.”

“You hesitated.”

“Wha- no, no, I didn’t.”

“You did it again!”

#mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #ranboo x reader #nihachu x reader #philza x reader #technoblade x reader #mcyt fanfiction #fluff?#mine:emerald

532 notes · View notes

universallychaoticpan · 2 years

Text

The whole world's a game if you know who to play

dabi x reader

This isn't proofread, but I hope you enjoy. As always, requests are wanted and appreciated. <3

You were never afraid whenever you walked among the degenerates and lowlifes of the city's underbelly. It was a strange and dangerous mesh of thieves and mercenaries, the people you'd grown up around. There, on your right, was the alley you'd gotten your nose broken in, and where you'd thrown your first punches. There was the bar you'd practiced fighting in after hours, the owner taking a kind of fondness to you the way one grows fond of a stray cat. Walking through the streets, your very presence sparking a quiet fear in those who saw you. Formidable and skilled, you ran one of the city's top crime syndicates while projecting a languid and relaxed attitude, as if royals themselves were beneath you.

Today, though, you were tense and shaken, a hooded figure following you silently as you made your way through the dark alleys and winding tunnels that led to the place you currently called home. Still, you could feel someone behind you, vanishing quickly as you stepped inside. You weren't scared of what they could do to you. Everyone and their mother knew what you did to anyone who tried to come after you, and if they didn't, they learned damn quick. Your reputation was such that even the King's men knew you were best left alone. Like a snake poised to strike, you had an uneasy agreement with your enemies; stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours.

No, you weren't afraid of what they could do to you. You were scared of who it was.

As the faint smell of ash and old smoke filled your nostrils, you felt your hand grip the knife at your hip, head raising with your back turned to the intruder.

"The hell you up to now, Dabi. Thought I told you to scram after that last job almost got us caught."

He chuckled in response, his voice low and raspy like it always was. Part of you wished you could forget that sound. Still, you couldn't deny it sent an odd rush of anticipation coursing through you, like lighting had been poured into your blood. He'd always carried the thrill of the hunt with him wherever he went, bottled in his pocket for whoever could pay. You both knew you were doomed to him from the start.

"Just one job, doll. What d'ya say?"

You'd taken him up on his offers before.

It was taking him up on one that had led to you falling in love.

What was one last time.

"You get me stranded again and I swear I'll kill you myself." Your voice was low but not soft, the words biting and harsh as you crouched down, eyeing your mark with careful curiosity. He looked completely out of place, even at the very outskirts of the underground. His face was too soft for the underground, gaze too sure of himself with his head held far too high. He carried himself with a different kind of pride than the one you did, or anyone else in your world. You weren't sure where he got it from, but it was clear he wasn't from around here. "Who's he? Pretty sure I told you I don't go after kids."

"Relax, princess. I know him. Actually, he's the job."

"We s'posed to kill him or what?"

"Nope. Actually, we kill him we kiss our reward goodbye." His eyes were trained carefully on the boy, who could be no older than seventeen. His heterochromatic eyes scanned his surroundings carefully as Dabi watched him, blue eyes glowing in the dark.

Without another word, he stepped out of your hiding place, hands stuffed into his pockets as he strode confidently towards the boy. You had to give it to him, he'd always been a cocky bastard, and right now, it was serving him well. They spoke hurriedly for a moment before Dabi gestured for you to come out as well. Approaching them, you glanced accusingly at your partner, to which he only nodded at the boy in question.

"Y/n, this is Shoto. And as of right now, he's our number one priority. Shoto, this is Y/n. All you need to know about her is that she's gonne save both our asses sooner or later. Don't ask questions yet, 'cause we don't have the time. But he needed my help slipping someone out from hands that aren't his, and I knew you were just the one for the job."

"And what am I getting out of this exactly?"

"That's the fun bit, babe. If we help him, he's agreed to help us cross the border. We'll finally get out of this hellhole. Both of us, together. And all we gotta do is a simple jail break."

Your smile was real now, the thought of actually making it out of the underground finally within your reach. Despite your best judgement telling you to be cautious, you couldn't help the real excitement in your voice as you looked at your latest client.

"You get me over that border, pretty boy, and a jailbreak is the least you could ask of me."

Five days later you were up top, the sun high and bright in your eyes, assaulting your senses after the thick, smoggy air of your home.

Not for long, you thought. Soon I'll be out.

Behind you, Dabi kept watch on the street below, tensely waiting as you picked the lock on an ornate door.

"Relax, dummy. I lie about a lot, but you know I'm actually pretty good at this shit. What even is this place?"

"Loony bin. Glorified hospital, really, for people who lost their minds. The woman we need to get out is in there."

"We're breaking out an insane person? Sounds smart to me," you muttered, the lock clicking satisfyingly as the knob turned in your hand.

"She's not crazy. Now let's go, we'll only have one shot at this. So whatever you do, don't fuck up," he answered, brushing past you crisply. His voice was short and clipped, leaving you confused at his reaction. Brushing it off, you gathered your things and stepped inside.

It was cool and dim, the tile floor spotless and the hallway pristine as you padded through the labyrinthine facility. The doors were identical to the point of making you uneasy, the numbered plates beside them the only indicator that some different person inhabited each one.

Finally, you stopped in front of number 413, just another faceless door, who's lock was picked in a matter of seconds. By now, Dabi was downright restless as he walked into the room ignoring your hissed warnings to be careful. Your heart nearly dropped when you watched him approach the woman seated on the bed, turned away from you both, and kneel down in front of her. You watched him take her hand gently between his own before diverting your eyes, hearing him speak lowly to her before pulling her to her feet. Looking up again, you could see how frail she looked, even in comparison to Dabi, who you were sure hadn't eaten a full meal in years. She clambered onto his back and held tight there as Dabi opened the door to her own balcony. The nearest rooftop was just a leap away. It would be easy to make it back across to Shoto.

Too easy.

"Hey! The hell do you think you're doing!"

The voice came from behind, from the still open door. In it, a furious looking guard stood, baton in hand as he raced towards you.

"Dabi, run! Get back to Shoto, I'll take care of it!"

Dabi could only spare you one last glance, nodding to you before he jumped. As much as he wanted to help you, it would do neither of you any good to fail now.

On the other side, you ducked before the guard's fist could even come close to touching you, sending him spiraling around himself with the force. With a kick to the back of the knee, you sent him careening into the wall, sending an ugly picture of a fish down with him with the clatter of glass. Turning, you made to leave, taking a running start before a hand pulled your ankle out from under your body.

Crashing to the floor, you felt blood burst from your tongue as your teeth rattled in your skull. Turning around, you thrashed wildly in an attempt to loosen your attacker's hold on your leg, eventually catching his nose with your foot. As blood poured from his nostrils, the bones obviously broken, he shouted in pain and clapped his hands instinctively to his face.

Taking the chance, you launched yourself from the edge of the railing, crashing onto the roof and sliding down a drainage pipe before hitting the ground running. No one here would recognize your face, but even so, you pulled your hood over your head as you ran through the streets. Pushing past several people and leaving them stunned, you ran until the buildings were falling apart around you, and then further until you were once again just another part of the maze of the underground.

Letting your pace gradually decrease, you walked down the bar you'd met Dabi at after every job, hoping he'd be there. If the dick had left you, you swore you'd-

Sure enough, there he was.

Actually, he looked almost...scared for once. He was watching the throngs of people intently, the woman you'd gotten out standing next to Shoto who had an arm around her protectively. When he found you, you saw him relax, smirking a bit to show you knew he was at least a little worried for you.

"Awww you love me," you taunted, smirking a little and then groaning as Dabi punched your shoulder playfully.

"Oh shut up, dumbass."

"Thank you, both of you."

Shoto's voice startled you, if you were being honest. It was lower than you thought it'd be, and quiet, but not shy. It was the voice of a person who knew they only needed a few words to hook an audience. taking your hand, he pressed a bag heavy with coins into your palm, along with a piece of folded parchment.

"That'll get you on a boat out of here. Captain's an old friend of mine. It leaves tonight, so you'll need to hurry, but they already know you should be coming. They're sailors though, so they won't wait up. You're either there or your your not. It's short notice and I'm sorry, but it's all I-"

Quite suddenly, you hugged him tightly, realizing that all you ever wanted was coming to pass because of him.

"It's perfect," you whispered as you let go. "Thank you."

"I should be thanking you," he replied, still shocked but rapidly regaining his composure. "Now you'd better get going. You have a boat to catch."

Looking at Dabi, he jerked his head off to the side as if telling you it was alright to go. He was only a few moments behind you, some whispered words shared between he and Shoto as you walked away.

If you had looked back, you might have seen the way he'd embraced the woman before he vanished into the crowd at your side.

You might have seen the tears in the woman's grey eyes as she realized this was probably the last time she'd ever see her son. The same tears that were in Shoto's as he said goodbye to his brother.

The sun sank low with the waves at your backs as the boat rolled on the water. You stood next to Dabi with your face warmed by the dying sun, hair pushed from your eyes by the wind. Shoto had called in a favor with the captain, a loud and brash blonde who wouldn't have let you on at all had it not been for his first mate. Even now, you heard him muttering at the wheel as you stood at the prow, Dabi smiling at your content expression. For once since he'd known you, you seemed happy. You seemed freer than he'd ever seen.

"Hey Dabi," you said, turning to him finally. "Why'd you even bother coming to find me? That job was easy, you could've done it yourself."

He laughed a little, the honest one you remembered from when you'd run wild through the streets in the years before.

"You don't think I forgot did you? What you told me the night I left?You told me there was nothing more you wanted than to get out of the underground and live. That's what you told me."

You remembered it all. Your tears, voice loud as you screamed your fury out the world. He'd almost gotten you caught, gotten you caged like a bird. You would've died in chains, strangled by the weight of what you yearned for.

"You told me you wanted more, wanted to see what was out there for you. We were a dead end for the both of us. But when I got this job, all I could think about was the promise I made you then. I promised you I'd come back and get you out. That you'd find what was out there."

"I never told you I was always out there for you. I never stopped loving you, y/n, not after I disappeared, not after I was stupid and almost got you arrested, not when you told me to leave because there was no way out for you as long as I was by your side. I found you when I got that job because I wanted to be the one to show you what this world holds for you. It's selfish, but I wanted to be there when you realized everything you ever wanted is just at your fingertips. And now that I've done that, you can live the way you always wanted to. You'll never see me again, y/n, not unless you want to. But I've done enough to last a lifetime. You deserve a break from me, so go live why don't ya. No one knows you where we're going. Make good use of it."

He turned to go, making for his cabin below deck, stopped by your hand on his shoulder. Turning, he met your eyes, bright with a hope he'd never seen in you since the day he'd met you. Back then, you were wary, but you still clung to that hope like a leaf clings to a tree in the wake of an autumn wind. Now it was back, blooming in you as you pulled him close.

"Let's see it together, then. Let's vanish together and make the world sing our praises on the wind."

In your eyes was a dare; it was a risk, delicious and dangerous, just like you.

One last adventure.

What do you say?

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #todoroki touya x reader #mha x reader #mha dabi x reader #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader

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