#end (he bids him good luck with what seems like real sincerity)

[mariocki]

Donald Sutherland steals the show as a disarmingly charming bank robber (turned convict, turned escaped convict), as John Wood in The Saint: Escape Route (5.14, ITC, 1966)

#fave spotting #donald sutherland #the saint #escape route #1966 #classic tv #itc #followers of my faves spotted will know‚ as I've rambled about it in tags before‚ that prior to becoming a big screen legend Don spent #a couple of years in the uk as part of the rentayank crowd‚ making a couple of horror films and filling guest spots on genre tv #he'd already done a Saint (3.23 The Happy Suicide) which can be found if you follow my tag #mostly his uk tv roles were of one kind: creepy villains (or occasionally as in his prior Saint ep‚ a creepy red herring) #so this was honestly a delightful surprise; finally someone GOT Donald Sutherland‚ and he gets to play the kind of part #he'd be doing in cinemas in the following decade. he's fun! he's kooky! he's a bank robber‚ sure‚ but he's also just hugely #endearing. and that isn't just me‚ you feel like the script likes him too. damn it you feel like Simon himself wants him to get away by the #end (he bids him good luck with what seems like real sincerity) #hard to express just how adorable this hardened criminal is. in his first appearance he starts a fistfight in prison with Simon and as soon #as Simon gets carted off to solitary he's immediately like 'aww it wasn't his fault‚ i was the one being a dick' #he calls everyone baby‚ including the Saint‚ including numerous middle aged men #i mean SPOILER for the episode incoming but the escape route is so successful and nobody is ever found bc the bad guys are #murdering their clients (i guessed as much and was truly sad when Don got on the boat to get out of the country) which leads to an amazing #scene where Don's like 'Hey baby‚ where's the second boat to pick me up?' and when the gruff villain pulls a gun out he just says #'....baby?' as his final words. amazing. 10 out of 10 no notes performance

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch. 11)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Invisible Ties

Next Chapter: Goldenrod

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Additional notes: This is so funny but I made a mistake in assuming the previous Goodwill event was held in Tokyo. Rewatched JJK and found out it was in Kyoto so I had to rewrite it XD.

Chapter 11: Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill Event

Breakfast was a quiet affair. He brought out a short table and you had the meal side by side.

It was grilled salmon and miso soup. You both stole glances at each other when the other wasn't looking.

A domestic life with Noritoshi. Yeah you could get used to this. "Thank you for the meal Noritoshi." You smiled and offered to wash the dishes.

He stood behind you in the small kitchenette as you did, humming softly to yourself. Noritoshi was holding your waist gently and leaning his forehead against your shoulder. Thumbing small circles into the sides of your hips.

You quietly smiled at yourself, not expecting Noritoshi to love physical affection this much. After washing the dishes, you laughed as you placed your ice cold hands on his neck, forcing him to let go of you and flinch back with a frown.

Leaving Noritoshi’s dorm after breakfast had terrible timing apparently. You bumped into Todo senpai on your way out.

“Ah.” You both stared at each other for a bit. Noritoshi was still behind you, the door to his dorm room open. It didn’t help that you had your pillows and blankets in your hands.

And you were still in pajamas.

“So is this like a thing now? Congratulations on getting together.” Todo smiled down at you.

“Ah uhm- we- I- “ You stuttered, but Noritoshi wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you to him.

“Yes we are dating. And what of it?” He stared Todo down. You were flustered but incredibly pleased upon finally hearing a solid label between the two of you.

Todo just grinned. “So you actually have decent taste in women huh Kamo?”

“The best.” He replied dryly. You flushed and whined at Noritoshi, pawing at his robes. He just pulled you closer and hid your face in his chest.

“Didn’t know you had this shy side Tsuchi chan.” Todo was laughing. He bid both of you goodbye, and by the end of the day the entire campus knew both of you were dating.

But of course the both of you didn’t know it yet. “So…. you’re my boyfriend now Toshi?” you reached up to twirl his hair in your fingers as you made your belongings float in midair.

His eyes sparkled at the nickname. He leaned down close to you, “So it seems. Are you unhappy?”

“No. I’m happy.” You leaned up to press your lips against the corner of his.

Noritoshi sent you off, only letting you go after he had gotten a huge hug from you with a deep kiss to the cheek. He realized with a small jolt that he was pretty much touch-starved (no surprises there).

Wishing for more of your hugs and kisses already, and you just left for a few moments. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

Later that day, you bumped into Miwa as you were leaving your dorm. It was the weekend so you all had no classes and missions. She hesitantly called out a “Congratulations. You finally got together with Kamo senpai yeah?”

You looked at her in surprise. “How did you-”

“Todo senpai.”

“That man really doesn’t keep his mouth shut.”

◇◇◇

It was a different experience, having the other students tease the both of you about your new relationship as a real boyfriend and girlfriend. You felt weird by calling him your lover.

"I called it!" Mai proudly smirked down at you. "We all did Mai chan." Momo senpai giggled, bumping her hip with yours as you looked shocked over the bets they placed.

Noritoshi always had a soft smile for you. He recently managed his time better, finishing his studies very early so he could spend more time with you.

Not shy to take your hand whenever you meet in the hallways and drag you for a picnic under the huge Plum Tree or just to hug you quickly before going off to a mission.

You were more open, hopping up to him in the hallways and greeting him cheerfully. ‘It was nice’, you thought to yourself.

Ever the overthinker, you at times think of the secrets he mentioned having. Probably personal matters he wasn’t ready to talk about. That’s fine, you had your own fair share as well. Time will heal and bring whatever it may to the both of you.

◇◇◇

The Kyoto-Tokyo sister school goodwill event was drawing near. You and your fellow first years wished all your participating seniors good luck.

“I heard they also have a Special Grade 1st year student in Tokyo Tech.” You perked up at that, “Is that so?”

“I highly doubt they’d come though. Just like how you aren’t participating, Tsuchi. Usually 2nd and 3rd years are the ones participating. It is going to be held here in Kyoto Tech since we won last year.” Todo grinned.

You wondered about that.

◇◇◇

Just a few days before the goodwill event, Utahime texted you and said Noritoshi was injured from a mission. So of course you flew as fast as you could to his room, where he was being treated.

"Noritoshi!!" You wheezed out, entering his room in a burst of wind. You had come back from a lunch date with an old classmate from elementary.

You hurried over to his bedside and looked him over. He slowly turned to you, eyes widening. He smiled, "An angel is here."

You flushed and laughed out loud, "Noritoshi you've lost it. It's just me. Y/n." You brushed some stray hairs out of his face.

He continued staring at you dreamily, “Angel”. You were all dressed up, face fully made up. Rouge lipstick with a light touch of blush on your cheeks. You had your round shades on, prettily framing your face.

He used a free and uninjured hand to reach and cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch before pushing his arm back down. "You need rest." You said gently.

You placed your hands over his chest and activated your reverse cursed technique. He groaned as he felt his skin stitch back together. "Shhh, it will be fine."

He wasn't that badly injured thank goodness. “Angel, have you seen my y/n? I miss her.” He whined. You patted him on the forehead and shushed him with a quick kiss.

Why was he behaving like this?? You turned to the nurse packing their things from the corner, “I put him on anesthesia. He will be loopy for a bit.”

“Ah.” This might be a little bit fun. “Toshiii~ It’s me y/n how could you not recognize me?” You pouted. Noritoshi pouted and whined in return. The nurse pointedly ignored both of you and quickly left the room.

He stared at you with the biggest eyes he’s ever made, seemingly thinking hard. “Don’t think too hard, you’ll lose brain cells.” you whispered.

“Hold me.” He demanded not unlike a child asking for candy. And so you sat beside him and held onto his hand. You watched as he fell asleep, clinging onto your hand.

This loose-tongued and childish side to Noritoshi was just too adorable.

◇◇◇

Noritoshi stirred awake, seeing you so close to him. You were laying on top of his chest, one hand holding onto his.

He stared at your profile half sprawled over his blanket and reached to put a hand on your back and rubbed it soothingly. Then let his hand rest on the back of your neck while tracing small circles on it with the pad of his thumb.

You were so sweet on him. It was a wonder to Noritoshi, who felt as though he was always lacking in physical affection. To see someone sincerely take care of him without requesting anything in return was refreshing for a change.

He watched as you stirred, then your hand tightened in his and you brought it close to your lips, all while you were still fast asleep. Noritoshi’s eyes twinkled. What were you dreaming about? Was it about him?

He watched as you slowly woke up. “Mmmm Toshiii~” you blearily reached out for him. You were able to wash up and change your clothes while he was asleep.

He pulled you into his bed, making your half sprawl over his lap. “Why didn’t you get in bed with me? Surely your back must hurt? It’s late now, sleep with me.” You looked at the clock and to your surprise it was indeed late. 2am.

“Okayy” you were still whiny, half asleep, and slightly grumpy from waking up. You both settled in the bed and fell asleep holding hands.

◇◇◇

It was finally the day of the Kyoto-Tokyo Goodwill event. You were all out, 1st, 2nd and 3rd years with Utahime sensei and Principal Gakuganji, waiting for the Tokyo group to arrive.

Then you felt this ominous presence from afar. You took a few steps back, cursed energy flaring and winds whipping around you. Everyone looked at you in concern and Noritoshi whispered as he squeezed your hand, "Angel, you okay?"

You still found it funny how he now takes to calling you his angel when it’s just the two of you after you told him about his embarrassing moment when he was loopy on sedatives.

You stared off at a distance. "Everyone... Something… big is coming." You didn't realize that you felt Rika's presence from afar. Everyone tensed and looked in the same direction you were as the Tokyo participants came.

There were some really loud 2nd and 3rd years, but the one that stood out was a rather reserved boy with black hair. He had a Katana bag hooked over one shoulder. And a massive curse looming over him. ‘How is that thing not exorcised yet?!’

"Yooooo Everyone from Kyoto hello!!"

That voice. Your eye twitched. "Nice to meet you all again." Gojo Satoru cheerily yelled. Introductions were exchanged. The group challenge on the first day is Capture the Flag. The details for the individual battles tomorrow are yet to be announced.

Everyone was surprised to hear that the first year, Okkotsu Yuuta, the special grade cursed human, was participating to even out the numbers.

Based on that amount of cursed energy…. Tokyo school might win this year, you thought grimly. 'As long as there are no casualties please.' You prayed to yourself. You wished Noritoshi good luck with a quick hug.

After the participants were dismissed and released to their positions, the Kyoto 1st year's followed the two principals and Utahime sensei.

"Neko-chaaaan! How cruel, you don't wanna greet me?" His damn voice was so fucking loud everyone in the vicinity turned to Satoru.

(His nickname for you was cute but the story wasn't. When you were 4 years old, the Tsuchi family cat always ran away from you. You tried to be more catlike to befriend it, which Satoru found hilarious. Ergo, he started calling you Cat or Neko chan.)

Your eye twitched again as always does with Satoru. "Toru nii, it's been a while." You said, looking at the man leering down at your figure. He pulled you in for a side hug and ruffled your hair. "I missed you loads, it's been a while huh. How's school?"

"Not too bad." You fixed and patted your hair back down, aware of the eyes on you.

"Mmm, I bet." His bright blue [six] eyes could see the red strings linking your pinky to Noritoshi's. "You got a boyfriend by any chance y/n?"

You stopped at that and looked up at him. "Did Hiroki tell you anything?" "Nup" he always pops his P's obnoxiously.

You looked to the side and murmured "I do."

"You have a boyf-ooms" You slapped your hand over his mouth, floating up to his height. You could practically see his blue eyes gleaming behind those white bandages. "Keep your voice down dimwit." You hissed.

He licked your hand. "You're gross as always Toru," you wiped it on his sleeve as you walked on air to match his height.

"You should have told me you got a boyfriend. Anywayss, my students are gonna kick ass. Yuuta is pretty strong and he's the type to go all out you know?" He nudged you.

"Noritoshi and the senpais won't go down without a fight." You said. “Heehhh, is that so?”

You caught up a bit with him, making small talk as you made your way to the viewing rooms.

◇◇◇

Miwa later pulled you aside, "You know Gojo Satoru?! Isn't he, like, super famous?!"

"Uhhh?? He is?? … uhm I don't know. But we are family friends, he's like a brother to me really." You said confusedly. "The Tsuchimikado and Gojo clans always got along. His dad and my dad are friends."

"Ahhh I see." She nodded. She was still unfamiliar with the Great 3 clans and minor clans of Jujutsushi so it was understandable for her to be curious.

The rest of you filed into the room. The teachers allowed all of you to watch on the screens, so that you can get familiar with the goodwill event.

"Psst! Y/n sit beside me." You laughed as Satoru eagerly patted the seat beside him, sounding more like a teenager than a teacher. You scooted over to his side as he brought out snacks, chips, and popcorn. You stared at him. "You think this is a movie?"

"It's free entertainment." He shrugged.

And the event started. You all watched on the screens as both schools fought against curses while defending their home base flag and trying to take down the enemy's flag.

Todo, of course, was on the front lines, recklessly plowing into Tokyo high's home base. Hakari, a 3rd year, was facing him off, somehow holding his ground against him.

Noritoshi was following Momo around, taking down curses and stopping the other team's students from charging in.

But before they knew it, Yuuta was on the other side, flag in his hands. It wasn't a quick match but a rather rough one. At the very least, no one was injured badly.

Your eyes watched Okkotsu’s movements. It was very obvious he was new to fighting, but his brute force of cursed energy played well to his strengths. You were looking forward to tomorrow's matches.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi x you #jjk kamo #blood bound #red strings of fate #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi fluff #gojo satoru #miwa kasumi #todo aoi #jjk x y/n #noritoshi x y/n #noritoshi headcanons

[more-stuff-of-pi]

Believe Because He is Good

a/n: I’ve been thinking of writing something like this and I read these beauties by @volleychumps and was inspired to just write out what was in my head. This is very much a self-comfort fic regarding my personal experience, ofc featuring my og hq mans :)

notes: y/e/n = your ex’s name. requests are open :) find my masterlist here

pairing: sawamura daichi x fem!reader | genre: angst (w/happy ending) | warnings: asshole exes, implied past abuse (emotional, manipulation, slight physical), implied panic/anxiety attack | word count: 2,395

Balls were bouncing off the court, slapping the wood as Karasuno wound down, practicing serves. Even Noya tried his hand at serving, the ball smacking into the net. Tanaka laughed at Noya, ceasing when a volleyball knocked into his head. The culprit, Hinata, squeaked as Tanaka scrambled after him, Noya roaring with laughter all the while, gripping Asahi’s arm as he in turn knitted his brows together. Tsukishima rolled his eyes as Yamaguchi hid a giggle behind a hand.

Despite the chaos of Karasuno, an immense feeling of pure joy washed over you as you stood in the doorway of the gym. Nothing felt quite like seeing the team together. Their bond and their energy always lifted your spirits. And, of course, the handsome captain was the cherry on top.

“Great work today, guys!” Daichi called out to his team, signalling that practice was well over. They started to casually saunter over, Suga coming to take his place as vice next to his captain. “We’ve got a practice -- Nishinoya, Tanaka, shut it -- we’ve got a practice match next week, so I wanna see you all working hard to be ready. Shimizu and Yachi left early to run some errands for Sensei, so please do your best in cleaning up. Alright, get to it!” Daichi clapped, releasing the group to their chores.

As the group dwindled, you watched as Suga tapped Daichi’s arm and jutted his head in your direction. Confused, Daichi glanced towards you and instantly his face melted from slight exhaustion into absolute adoration. He bid goodbye to Suga who clapped him on the back with a mischievous grin in return, causing Daichi to cough.

You giggled, waving to Suga whose grin widened as he threw a peace sign up before turning to do his part in cleaning up. Daichi joined you at your place by the door, lightly touching a hand to your hip, leaning down to peck your lips in greeting.

“Hi, Y/n,” he welcomed warmly as he smoothly laced your hands together as if it were second nature.

“Hi yourself,” you replied. “Shimizu told me you’d need some help cleaning today.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Still, you didn’t have to come.”

“No,” you agreed, entertaining a wicked grin, “but I heard the captain of this team was really hot so I just had to come see for myself.”

Daichi grinned at your teasing. “Well, you should see the captain’s girlfriend. I heard that she’s a real looker.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, leaning in for another kiss which Daichi gladly gave. “So what can I help you with, Mr. Team Captain? Because with these boys you will most certainly need it.”

Daichi huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re telling me.” He looked around, scanning the gym for a task you could take up. “Ah! You could take care of the water bottles, if you wouldn't mind.”

“Just dump them out, yeah?” Daichi nodded. “Seems simple enough. I’ll go do that and then when we’re done here we could go out for meat buns, maybe.”

“You struck another craving, haven’t you?”

“Your treat!” you teased in answer, snatching up the carton of bottles and escaping from the gym before Daichi could reply. Stepping out, you begin absentmindedly busying yourself with unscrewing the lids of each bottle as you make your way to the outdoor sinks. Focused on the task, you don’t notice the person in front of you until you’re crashing into them, effectively spilling the water you were on your way to empty. Well, that’s one way to do it.

“Oh, my gosh,” you crouched down, quickly picking up the bottles, “I am so so--” 

“Hi, Y/n,” the boy said, looking down at you with a tight lipped smile. He was a year your junior and also your ex. You had broken up with him at the beginning of summer vacation but had fortunately not seen him since, even through several months into the school year. You had foolishly hoped that your luck would continue and you would miraculously not ever see him again. But he was also a student at Karasuno and shared not only many of your extracurricular interests but also a handful of friends, of whom were responsible for setting you two up in the first place. What they didn’t know is that they were setting you up for disaster.

The relationship had started with no base friendship or really any genuine knowledge of the other besides the words of others from the grape vine. In retrospect, it was a plain bad idea. You two had fun at first but soon into your relationship, your boyfriend had begun pressuring you. He started with little things, subtly manipulating you until it was hard for you to recognize what your own boundaries genuinely were, as blurry as he made the lines. He was cunning and cornered you into situations you didn’t want to be in as easily as he could talk. He never complimented you, never made an effort for you, never validated you. Normally, you would stand up for yourself, speak out against this mistreatment, but something about him made you weak. And not in that head over heels kinda weak. The type of weak that drained you, that made you doubt yourself where you wouldn’t have before, that twisted your own strengths to look like hindrances.

It seems that even after months apart, he still had that same, nauseating effect on you.

“Hi, Y/e/n.” You forced a pretty smile, trying your best to stay polite and to ignore all of the sudden flowing emotions, not wanting to admit to him -- nor yourself -- that the damage he had done was still raw. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Still ever the clutz,” he laughed, something cruel and mocking.

You grit your teeth, smile impossibly tight. Whatever semblance of sanity you had left pleading for you to remain polite. “I’m sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me--”

He abruptly put a hand on your shoulder to stop you. “Where’re you heading?” The thinly coated politeness was easy to see through when you had suffered through the consequences of believing it.

“To rinse these.” You lifted the carton of now mostly empty water bottles. You went to move past him and tried to brush off his hand, but it only tightened, his thumb painfully digging into the dip between your shoulder and your collarbone. You inhaled shapely at the resulting shock and pain.

The movement reminded you of other times he had done this subtle control, other times he had wanted you to just shut up and comply, other times he coerced you, forced you--

“Why don’t I accompany you, hm? It’s been awhile since we’ve had the opportunity to chat. Let’s catch up,” he said with a toothy smile that even his eyes carried. The familiarity of this compelled you to learned submissiveness, breaths desperately trying to claw their way from your throat. You tried to swallow them down, but they were clawing faster than you could handle.

“I have a job to do, Y/e/n.” Your voice sounded weak, even to your own ears. You weren’t fooling him. 

His thumb dug even harder. “C’mon it’s the least you can do after purposely spilling that water all over me--”

“It was an accident--!”

He raised his other hand, going in to grab your arm -- to gain more control over you -- when someone caught his wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A voice said quietly, eerily so. Despite that, under its influence and familiarity, an intense calm washed over you, wrapping you in comfort and relief.

Turning, the image that greeted you of Daichi’s wrath was that of an angel of death, beautiful and fearsome in all of his glory. In his eyes he held enough heat to burn the ends of the earth. And it was all for you.

Your ex shook his wrist from Daichi’s grasp, trying to subtly shake it out. His grip on your shoulder loosened though he didn’t pull away. “I’m just catching up with an old… friend,” he spat, his polite veil thinly covering his malice.

“I’ve never known old friends to hurt each other in greeting.” Daichi was fuming, to say the least. Whatever you had against your ex, you were amazed at his sincere idiocracy. That, or his delusionment that he could genuinely stand level to Daichi.

“I wasn’t hurting her,” he sneered, “I was just saying hi.”

“You could do that without putting your hands on her. I suggest you take them off.”

Your ex snorted and glanced down at you, his hand squeezing reflexively. “Are you really just going to cower there and let him speak for you? You were always telling me what to do, I’m surprised you’re actually staying quiet.” You instinctively flinched away from him, tears threatening to sting your eyes. You knew he was wrong, that he was trying to hurt you, but that broken part of you couldn’t help but believe him.

Daichi, from the corner of his eyes, saw your distressed state, the sight causing his heart to lurch. In his eyes, you were absolutely incredible. So kind and giving and loving and it angered him to no end that anyone would be able to make you believe anything otherwise. He loved you, so incredibly much and he wanted nothing more than to protect you and keep loving you.

“Get off of me,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself that your ex no longer had any control over you.

Your ex smiled wickedly, finally taking his hand off. “There you go, sweetheart. All you had to do was ask.”

“And all you had to do was leave,” Daichi seethed.

“Sorry?” Your ex asked lamely.

“You’ve had your stupid fun, now leave. I’m giving you five seconds.” You looked at Daichi and almost flinched away from the absolute hatred burning in his features. The fire that was there before had grown impossibly hotter.

He laughed. Your asshole ex actually laughed in Daichi's face. "And what will you do?"

"Stay longer than five seconds and find out." As much as Daichi was wonderful and patient and mature, if something really got him going, he threw that all out the window. And perhaps that was Daichi's one fault. That he would gladly abandon reason when it came to you.

"Really?"

"Daichi," you breathed, "he's not worth it."

"No," your boyfriend agreed, "he's not. But it would be so satisfying." Without warning, Daichi lunged and gripped the front of your ex's shirt, pulling the shorter boy roughly to be chest to chest with him. Your ex gulped audibly, his tough persona crumbling away far too easily at a single physical touch. Granted, an angry Daichi held all the fury in the world barely contained in a wall of muscle. Even the word intimidating would be too much of an understatement. "Don't you ever touch her again. Don't look at her, don't talk to her -- in fact, stay far away from her," he snarled, boiling over like an animal on the hunt. He threw your ex away from him. You watched as he stumbled, tripping over his own feet and landing harshly on his ass. Daichi took advantage of this, squatting down over him before leaning in and whispering, "your five seconds are long gone. You can either leave or stay and find out what I can do."

Your ex glanced between you and Daichi, defiance somehow still lingering in his features. Seeing Daichi, though, had given you some courage and confidence as being around him often did. You believed in yourself again, just enough to look your ex in the eyes.

"Goodbye, Y/e/n."

He scrambled from his place on the ground (where he surely belonged, you thought bitterly) and disappeared from sight. You gasped for air, relieved he was gone, the anxiety that threatened to overtake you flooding from your body.

Daichi immediately turned to you, worry and love replacing the wrath in his eyes. "Can I hold you?"

"Please," you gasped, tears that rarely ever came already spilling silently down your cheeks.

With your permission, Daichi rushed from his crouch, pulling you gently to him as his hand came up to card through your hair. You clung onto him, holding him impossibly closer as you sobbed into his chest. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, pushing hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear. You leaned into his touch, revelling in the love and comfort he provided.

"I love you, Y/n," he said as you lifted your gaze to meet his searching one, "I love you so much. I'm sorry you ever had to deal with that but… but I'm so glad that I'm here with you."

"I'm glad you're here with me, too," you sniffled, wiping at your face. "Where's everyone else?"

"Gone," he replied and you noticed for the first time that he was already changed out of his gym clothes. Just behind you was his discarded bag. "Suga and Asahi went on ahead. I thought it was odd that you didn't ever come back in so I came to check on you."

"I'm glad you did."

Daichi smiled softly. "I am too."

"I'm sorry you had to step in. I don't know why I couldn't handle it, I usually can it's just-- he--"

"Hey, hey," he lifted his other hand to your face, holding you as he gently coaxed you to look at him, "you have nothing to be sorry for."

"But--"

"No buts. You did a great job. You can't just erase what he did to you or how he made you feel. You're allowed to react the way you did, Y/n. Okay?"

You nod. "Okay."

Daichi smiled warmly. "Good. Now how about we put those bottles away and we go out for meat buns."

"Your treat?"

Daichi laughed, the sweet sound bringing a smile to your lips. "Yeah, my treat." He laced his fingers through yours, still grinning.

"Daichi?"

"Hm?" he hummed.

"Thank you. I love you."

His smile softened as he leaned down, kissing you softly. "I love you too, Y/n."

And because it was him, because Daichi was so kind and charming and good, you truly believed him.

taglist: @samwrights (ily mom)

#sawamura daichi x reader #daichi x reader #sawamura daichi #daichi #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #thanks for letting me tag you in my stuff mom ahhhhhhh #this is the definition of a self-comfort fic #it was really cathartic for me to write! #sorry if it went too hard for anyone yikes #tw: abuse #believe because he is good

[fridayfirefly]

Lost and Found [Part Eleven]

Masterlist | Ao3

Despite the fact that he didn't get to bed until 2 AM that morning, Damian still woke up at 6 AM with the sunrise. Sleep deprivation was the last worry on his mind when his Soulmate - beautiful, breathtaking Marinette - was sleeping just one hall down from him.

He met Alfred in the kitchen, already preparing for the meals of the day. The waffle batter was already mixed, coffee was already brewing, and butter was already softening on the counter. "Do you need any help preparing breakfast?"

Alfred shook his head. "Thank you for the offer, but I pride myself in my ability to keep this kitchen under control, no matter how many visitors we have. Besides, I'm sure you would rather spend your morning getting ready for your day with your Soulmate than in the kitchen with me."

Damian nodded. "I'll see you at breakfast, then."

"I look forward to meeting Miss Dupain-Cheng."

Damian left the kitchen and made his way to the gardens, thinking about the night before.

They had gotten back to the Manor at 1:30 AM, too late for the Parisian guests to meet the Wayne family. Damian walked Marinette to her room to let her get some rest, wishing all the while that they could stay up together until the sunrise. Rationally, he knew that Marinette needed her sleep, especially with the drastic time change, but his emotions refused to let her go so soon. However, logic won out in the end, and he kissed her cheek and wished her goodnight. As Damian walked Chloé to her room, taking over for Jason while his brother packed his bags back in his Gotham apartment, Damian asked Chloé for a favor. There was a certain plan he wanted to put into action, that he needed some assistance with. Chloé agreed to help him out and their plan was set: in the morning, Chloé would bring Marinette to her room so that the two girls could get ready together, while Damian brought to Marinette's room a vase of fresh-cut flowers and a handwritten letter asking to take her on a date.

Chloé called his plan "sickeningly romantic", but said it with the sort of wistful smile that made Damian send a text to Jason advising his brother to bring flowers for his own Soulmate. Maybe it was sickeningly romantic, Damian thought over the concept, but he knew that it wasn't a bad thing. Emotions had been difficult for him at first, growing up the way he did, but he now knew better than to try and hide that part of himself from Marinette.

Damian already picked out which flowers to cut days in advance, fragrant purple wisteria and delicate white roses, which he got from the garden before the morning dew had burned off of them. He placed them in the glass vase, arranging and re-arranging them the whole way up to Marinette's room. He knocked on the door, and when there was no reply, he nudged it open. A flash of red by the window caught his eyes, but by the time his eyes focused on the spot, nothing was there. Shrugging it off as a trick of the light, Damian placed the vase of flowers on her bedside table and set down the note beside it. The note, which despite its simplicity had taken several drafts to perfect, read: Dear Marinette, I hope you slept well last night. Breakfast will be served at 8:00 AM. With your permission, I would like to spend today showing you around the city. Once the wedding approaches, I'm certain that we will both be busier, so I would like to get as much time with you now as possible. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Damian

With his plan completed, Damian left the room to go get ready for his first day with Marinette. He quickly sent a text to Chloé, giving her the all-clear to let Marinette return to her room.

Damian had just gotten out of the shower when he saw a note sitting on his bathroom counter. In what was unmistakably Marinette's handwriting, Dear Damian, I would love to go on a date with you today. Sincerely, your Soulmate, Marinette.

Damian breathed out a sigh of relief as the lingering doubt that Marinette might have changed her mind in the last six hours faded away. It is a silly fear, one that Damian wasn't used to indulging in. However, Marinette seemed to bring out all the little human characteristics that the League of Shadows had trained out of him when he was young. A younger Damian would have hated Marinette for it, but in the present day, in the privacy of his room, Damian smiled and let the feeling of relief wash over him.

——————————————————————

Marinette, Chloé, and Nino were all at the dining room table with Jon when Damian entered the room. Marinette brightened up as soon as she saw him. "Damian!" If Damian thought that Marinette looked beautiful last night (which he did) with tangled hair and tired eyes from a seven-hour plane ride, she looked downright breathtaking that morning, in a pretty pale pink dress, with her hair done up in a bun, tendrils curling around her face.

"Good morning, Marinette. I hope you slept well."

"I slept great." A look of annoyance took over Marinette's face. "Even though someone woke me up early on someone else's orders." Marinette's expression shifted from indignation to a bright smile. "I did appreciate the flowers, though, so thank you for those."

"You're very welcome." Damian was pleased that she liked them. He was a little troubled by how intently he was watching her facial expression. "Concerning our date tonight-"

Damian was cut off by the sound of voices coming down the hallway. Richard walked in beside Babs in her wheelchair, the couple having a lively debate about what to do for their respective bachelor and bachelorette parties. "We have to hire one. How often in your life do you get the opportunity to hire a stripper?" argued Babs.

"Alright," conceded Richard, "We get one stripper, and we have him split time between both parties. Now onto decorations - I'm thinking we each pick the decorations for each other's parties, and then it's like a surprise when we get there. And I'm not only saying this because I found the best bachelorette decorations on eBay and I already placed a bid."

Chloé broke the silence that followed in the dining room, as a muffled laugh escaped the hand she had pressed over her mouth. "I'm sorry, but aren't you Waynes billionaires? Can't you afford to hire two strippers?"

"Not billionaires," Tim chimed in as he walked into the room with Connor. "Every time Bruce comes close to being a billionaire, he increases the wages of all Wayne Enterprise employees except for himself and donates a ton of money to charity."

"I suppose we could hire two strippers, but then what if one of them is better than the other. That wouldn't be fair," mused Barbara.

"We could have them switch halfway through, that way we each get the same experience," Richard added.

"How about, instead of arguing the logistics of strippers, you greet the Soulmates who just arrived last night?" asked Jon, with a tone of voice that very clearly demonstrated how absurd he felt their conversation was. Damian had spent too much time with Richard and Babs over the past few weeks of wedding planning - nothing that came out of their mouths phased him anymore.

"Oh, hello Soulmates of my brothers and Soulmate of my brother's Soulmate's brother. I'm Dick."

"Babs," said Babs with a wave.

"Tim."

"Conner."

Richard started pointing to each of the Parisians. "You must be Marinette, Damian's Soulmate. You're Nino, Jon's Soulmate. And you are..?"

"Chloé, my platonic Soulmate," said Jason as he walked into the room.

"I can introduce myself," snapped Chloé, glowering at Jason, who looked a bit sheepish as he sat down in the chair next to her.

Jason picked up his fork and waved it between Chloé and Marinette. "So you two know each other."

Marinette nodded. "We've all known each other since we were kids. Chloé, Nino, and I have been in the same class since maternelle - which you call kindergarten in America. We've been best friends for years now."

"Now that's a coincidence. Both sets of three Soulmates knew each other before they met up with their other halves." Richard nodded, looking the three Parisians up and down.

"Coincidence is putting it mildly. Statistically, it's incredibly improbable. I didn't run the numbers, but I'm sure if I did, it would be in the range of one in a trillion," Tim piped up.

"Good luck, I suppose," said Marinette with a shrug.

"Luck, coincidence, statistical improbability - call it whatever you want to call it. It's still mind-boggling that out of 7 billion people, you three - best friends who go to the same school - end up with Soulmates who are all family."

The conversation turned to other topics as the table waited for Bruce to arrive before they started breakfast. Richard got Marinette talking about her aspiring career as a designer, and it instantly brought Marinette out of her shell. Her passion and enthusiasm were contagious; Damian couldn't help but smile softly to himself as he watched her explain to Richard and Babs the inspiration behind her latest collection of dresses named The City of Lights, which incorporated elements of Parisian fashion throughout the ages, with a focus on finding innovative ways to incorporate light into the dresses. As Marinette was explaining in depth the pros and cons between tea candles and real candles (according to Marinette, an open flame near your hand-crafted creation is a very big con, but she felt so strongly against tea candle that she would rather her dress catch on fire than ruin the integrity of her design), Bruce walked in, wearing a bathrobe with the words World's Best Dad on the back, plaid flannel pajama pants, and fuzzy slippers. Overall, he looked nothing like the intimidating Batman and everything like a regular Dad on a Saturday morning. Damian had to admit, it was a good strategy for putting their new houseguests at ease, especially Marinette and Chloé, who were meeting their Soulmates' father for the very first time.

"Good morning everyone," said Bruce. He grabbed his coffee mug off the counter, filled it to the brim, chugged it all in one go, then refilled it and took it to the table. "What's for breakfast?"

"Pancakes," Alfred replied as he walked in with a platter stacked full of them. "Please don't spill any syrup on the tablecloth, it's a pain to get out. And before you ask, yes, I am talking to you, Richard."

"One time," Richard grumbled. "You spill an entire bottle of syrup on the tablecloth one time, and suddenly that's all anyone remembers."

Marinette laughed. "I take it I'm not the clumsiest person at the table, then."

"I'm not clumsy. I'm just sporadically situationally unaware," Richard defended.

"Clumsy," teased Babs, flicking Richard's nose and stealing the last bite of pancake off his plate. They were so effortlessly domestic, affectionate with each other all the time in a way Damian was beginning to envy. Damian kept his expression still as he sat in internal shock at the realization that he was jealous of what Richard and Babs had together. Damian was a naturally private person; he had assumed he would despise public displays of affection. However, with Marinette, he could see the appeal. Marinette had flipped his whole worldview on its head. Now he wanted romantic outings and for everyone to know that she was his. It was a strange and foreign feeling, but deep down it felt right.

——————————————————————

As breakfast winded down, Damian offered to show Marinette around the house. The first place he took her was to the gardens. Damian knew that Marinette didn't like surprises all that much, so he planned on explaining to her exactly what they would be doing for their date.

"The gardens are so pretty!" exclaimed Marinette. "Is this where the wedding will be held?"

"Yes. The ceremony will be at the gazebo in the center of the rose garden."

"I'm sure it will be lovely," said Marinette with a soft smile on her face.

"For our date today, I was hoping I could show you around some of my favorite spots in the city. If you would rather stay at the Manor, I understand but-"

Marinette cut him off. "I would love that. I might need to change my shoes though." She gestured to the three-inch heels on her feet."

"I would advise bringing along a pair of good walking shoes. I would hate for you to get hurt."

"It would be a shame to break my ankle on our very first date," agreed Marinette. "I'll just go grab a change of shoes and my purse, and then we can go."

Damian smiled at her. "I'll wait for you here."

Damian watched Marinette leave, thinking of all his favorite things he could finally show her, and all of her smiles he could finally see.

Taglist: @fanboy7794 @mikantsume @hetalia-lover-is-here @howtoshuckatlife @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @redscarlet95 @derpingrainbow @friedchickening @melicmusicmagic @beautym3 @kunstner1 @shizukiryuu @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @crazylittlemunchkin @black-streak @darkshadowguardian @mystery-5-5 @trubel43 @fandomfan315 @vincentvangoose @royalchaoticfangirl @mooshoon @drama-queen-supreme @kae690 @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine @zoerayne2426 @littleredrobinhoodlum @lunar-wolf-warrior @dani-ari @sam-spectra @be-happy-every-day-please @xxmadamjinxx @interobanginyourmom @northernbluetongue @eliza-bich @romanoff-queen @scribblinggraveyard @dur55 @jeminiikrystal @sassakitty @miss-mysterys-blog @aegyobutpsycho2 @pirats-pizzacanninibles @chaosace @pepelachanel @sturchling @amayakans @athenalovesredsblog @boxercity1

#maribat #daminette #maridami #miraculous ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #marinette x damian #lost and found #my work #fanfic #miraculous ladybug fanfic

[writeblrfantasy]

EXCERPT FROM ORENDA: CYGNUS’ FEVER DREAMS

click for better quality

this is my favorite part of orenda, and i wanted to share this with you all, i’m super proud of it 🥰🥰 i love writing dreams and nightmares because i love describing emotion, and scenes happening in characters’ heads where i don’t have to pay attention to movements.

transcription under the cut

taglist: @magic-is-something-we-create​ @sondials​ @mischiefiswritten​ @a-place-of-babble​ @myhusbandsasemni​

lmk to be added/removed!

As Cygnus’s fever ebbed and flowed, he dreamed.

He’d dreamt of grace before- they all had- but even at death’s doorstep, this was nothing like it. Dreams of grace usually included an all-knowing, caring presence, glimpses of white clouds and light, of peace and calm.

Instead, Cygnus dreamt of humans, except they weren’t. Gods. The foreign word flashed to mind each and every time he looked up into their cold, displeased eyes from his spot kneeling in the center of them. There were four of them, standing in a square so that they boxed him in, and they’d be there no matter where he turned. They seemed larger than life, though when they looked down on him, they were not any taller than a normal person.

Cygnus tried to rise, to ask who they were, why they did this, but he already knew the answers to those things. When he opened his mouth, nothing but a croak came out.

One intimidated him more than the others. The only woman, the one he always saw first in the dreams, with slicked back hair and gold earrings. A frown always graced her lips, her arms crossed, brown eyes regal and powerful.

The others were a man of fair features and kinder eyes than the rest, a man who looked like he could be Oshama’s unfriendly, stronger cousin, and a man with red hair that tumbled down to his shoulders, whose rings glistened when he moved.

Because of the dreams, Cygnus slept uneasily, often jolting awake in the middle of the night to see Hilary asleep on a bedroll on the floor. Sleep would eventually find him again, but so would the gods’ eyes, hard yet satisfied.

Finally, night after night, each of the men would disappear.

The blond went first, giving Cygnus an appraising look up and down before nodding once. He stepped out of his place and touched a fingertip to Cygnus’s forehead, whispering, “Begin to heal,” before floating away in a whirl of wind. Cygnus noted the floral perfume on his robes and the scent of herbs in the wind. He let out a ragged breath, coughing on the intensity of it, before the dream melted away.

 On the second night, it was the man with the rings who stepped forward. Fire gathered at the tips of his fingers. The heat burned near Cygnus’s face. He flinched away, but the man held his head in place with his other hand, touching the burning fingertips to Cygnus’s forehead lightly. The suddenness of it shocked him, but it did not hurt.

“Good luck,” said the god in a cheery tone, and left engulfed in crackling flame.

That day, Cygnus walked around Hilary’s house some more. She fashioned a club onto the end of the walking stick, as well as in the center, to make it easier for him to grip. Cygnus’s pain was better, but his fever hadn’t left completely. He went to sleep with aches as his wounds slowly healed, but Hilary’s sleeping spell eased him into gentle, easy peace.

This time it was the stoic look-alike-cousin of Oshama who came forward. Cygnus didn’t know what he was expecting. If there had been a kind man and a bold one, wind and flame, what would it be now, lightning bolts?

No, it was earth, Cygnus realized, as the man’s robes smelled strongly and distinctly of dirt.

There’s a god for you, Esther.

Cygnus locked eyes with the god as dirt gathered in his hands, dark and rich. Cygnus sincerely hoped that wasn’t about to be placed on his forehead.

To his relief, the god tossed the soil around Cygnus’s feet. Cygnus followed its path with his eyes, as ever he was locked in place and unable to speak.

With a wave of the god’s palm, the dirt began to sparkle and dissipated into the white ground. Cygnus raised his head. The god’s eyes flashed with a note of approval, but only for a moment.

This one said nothing as he left, just offered a grunt in Cygnus’s direction. He raised a patch of earth and stepped into the center of it, god and dirt fading away before Cygnus’s eyes, leaving behind only a whiff of soil in the air.

Something compelled Cygnus to look up. The fourth and final goddess stared back at him, arms at her sides for the first time. Just the two of them, alone in the white room. This woman could end Cygnus’s life with a thought. It was all too clear in her eyes.

The woman raised her chin a bit, appraising. She snapped her fingers and Cygnus watched her, the white room and the dream float away, until he landed back in his body, Hilary waiting to receive him.

His seventh night in Hilary’s care, Cygnus went to sleep praying, praying, praying that after this he would be free, that the goddess would let him return to health. When Hilary cast a sleeping spell over him, at his request, he could see his own nerves mirrored on her face.

If it had been real, his heart would’ve been pounding as he met the goddess’s eyes.

What makes you think this isn’t real? his brain wondered.

While still closed off, her eyes did not hold the same coldness that they had a few days ago. Her arms were folded, lip caught between her teeth as her eyes raked over him. Cygnus ached to look away, but her hold kept him there, under the careful scrutiny. He was closer to her, this time, enough to pick up on any scents. Cygnus expected rich perfume, perhaps, the holiest of holy scents, but Cora smelled of nothing at all.

After a minute of agonized silence, the goddess seemed to make a decision. “Rise,” she ordered, voice grating like a sword on its whetstone. She flicked her hand sharply.

Cygnus was jerked to his feet, making him stumble. He righted himself, smoothing his shirt, hoping to restore some dignity. At last, he could move.

But not speak.

Cygnus tried limping toward her, finger raised, but his hand passed right through her image. Surprised, he waved a hand back and forth through her head. A wry smirk crossed her face, a hint of amusement embedded in it. Her cold, hard gaze broke for the first time, and like a lock clicking open in his head, Cygnus understood.

She told him something, and Cygnus bowed his head, promising to do as she bid.

“Go,” she said after, summoning water to flow over both her hands. Raising them, she rained it down over him, only, like Elio’s fire, it had no effect on him. It passed right over him as if it were air.

“Remember this,” the goddess said, just as Cygnus felt himself beginning to drift away. “You may be a king, but you are not my king.”

#writing #writeblr #my wip #my writing #fantasy writeblr #fantasy #my oc #the eingard series #the eingard series: cygnus #bean's excerpts

[professoruber]

A swapped place in Sweet Jazz City Chapter 1: Masks and Faces (Epithet Erased Fanfiction)

Inspired by the Role Swap AU created by @spliinkles.

Synopsis: We all know the stories of Sweet Jazz City, people did things and other people reacted to those things. However what if places were switched? Banzai Captain Molly prepares for her first great heist while rambunctious twelve year old troublemaker Giovanni sneaks into a the Sweet Jazz Museum after hours.

Prologue: https://professoruber.tumblr.com/post/189820483268/epithet-erased-role-swap-au-fanfic-a-swapped

Chapter 1: You are here

==============================================================

Giovanni couldn’t believe it, real life criminal stood before him. He had a million questions to ask them and hoped they’d be impressed by the diabolical vandalism he has committed. Through his sheer joy he manages to get through a few words of excitement.

“Wow, criminals! Awesome!”

==================================================================================

Earlier that day….

==================================================================================

Detective Sylvester Ashling stood before the crime scene, analysing it with investigative genius mind. The crime had been committed without any alarms, the culprit or culprits having gotten in from cutting through the roof while somehow not alerting anyone or any security.

And while the good detective would never admit it, even he was mildly puzzled by this.

“So, what do you think detective?” questions the stressed gallery curator, who has been spending all their time since the robbery alternating between cooperating with police and apologising to wealthy patrons.

“Well it’s about time I was brought in to bring an end to this caper. Behold as I unleash the powerful mind of a master investigator” He answers dramatically, somewhat reassuring the curator.

He returned to considering the circumstances and events this this criminal act, all while absentmindedly swinging around his yoyo. The thieves in question got in from the roof, and by that he means burst through. The cracks are visible and it seems like they simply forced their way down by sheer weight pressure, something which would’ve logically caused much noise and alerted even the most asleep night guard. 

But security cameras showed all nightguards were doing their jobs, and neither security guards nor cameras recorded any unusual noises.

And then there were the teddy bears, these toys were left in place of these very expensive statues. They have already been taken in for examination but so far, no noticeable traces evidence could be found on them.

This is not the first time such an event has occurred. In past months alone there has been a variety of bear theme crimes, many committed in areas with high Banzai Blaster activity.

But as Sweet Jazz City’s most brilliant master detective, or at least that’s what he always called himself, Sylvie was sure he would get to the bottom of this in now time.

He gave a laugh which most definitely sounded awesome and showed his masterful genius and did not sound like clown laugher in anyway, which drew a few stares from others.

These criminals will rue the day they decided to commit crimes in the notice of Detective Sylvester Ashling.

==================================================================================

Dr Percival King stood admiring the fine exhibits of the prestigious Sweet Jazz Museum, honoured to be attendance of the fine work of noble historians. Truly there are few greater pursuits than that of knowledge, an ideal with Percy took to heart.

As a criminal psychologist her days consisted of long hours of analysing the sickening debauchery and vile criminal minds of her patients. Hers’ is a dangerous road yet she has chosen it nonetheless.

As she walks around examining these exhibits her attention is drawn to a tour group of children being led by two museum staff.

“Ah, I see that this museum makes sure to spread its knowledge to aspiring youths. Very excellent” she compliments to no one in particular as she was over to get a closer look.

The tour itself was fairly standard and admittedly lacklustre at time, however a notable occurrence was the information on the ‘Arsene Amulet’, a mysterious artefact capable of stealing Epithets.

Such an item would catch her attention both for her research into if a person’s Epithet affect their criminal capabilities as well as that such an item would likely come under threat of theft, and as such studying it would provide an excellent resource in delving into the dark motivation of criminals.

She respectfully waits for the tour to be finished and for the pair of museum curators to be free before approaching them.

Walking up to the young woman she believes was called Mera, Percy launches into introductions and explanations.

“Good day miss museum curator. I was hoping to discuss a hypothetical partnership with the Sweet Jazz Museum in order to further my research into the minds of the criminal element”

The museum guard in question looked caught off guard “Wait… what are you talking about? Who even are you kid?”

Percy looks somewhat embarrassed at her own forgetfulness “Uh of course. I apologise, I have not introduced myself. I am Dr Percival King, criminal psychologist residing in Sweet Jazz City” she explains matter of facty.

Mera meanwhile still looks confused and also doubtful “A psychologist? Really? Sure kid whatever you say, now did you need something”

“I can assure you I am a registered psychologist, as impersonating a professional would be a severe offence” As Percy hands Mera her business card and qualifications, she briefly notes Mera had a nervous reaction to the mention of impersonation.

Suddenly the other tour guide bursts into the scene and shouts “Greetings apprentice Mera and teenager I have never met!” He catches sight of Percy’s qualifications causing his eyes to go wide “Ah a psychologist I see. Greetings Dr Percival King, I am Indus Tarbella, the man whose Epithet is BARRIER!” He suddenly proudly shouts and flexes as his sentence finishes while he also shows off his barrier.

Percy merely nods in greeting “It is a pleasure. With your permission I seek to extend my research to that of the Arsene Amulet which I heard will be displayed in the Museum”

Mera looked startled at the mention of the Amulet, but kept her cool mostly “Uh… look ‘Dr King’, as much as we’d LOVE to assist in growing your bright young mind, I am afraid that we will be much too busy tonight with… museum work… for any ‘psychology research’ to be done”

Indus looks saddened by these works but nonetheless agrees “Indeed my apprentice speaks truthfully. Are work will take us to great lengths in the coming nights, am I am afraid we must tearfully stand in the way of your quest of knowledge”

Percy was disappointment but not upset “I understand, please allow me leave my details with you before I take my leave. And with that I bid you both good luck in dealing with the inevitable assaults on the sanctity of learning by the many vicious thieves who will no doubt be on their way here”   

Despite the sincerity and non-accusing nature of Percy’s words, it still causes a great deal of alarm in Mera, who begins waving her arms around in a panic “Thieves? Who said anything about thieves? What do know kid!” Her tone shifts rapidly from fear to accusing and back around again. Causing Indus to come in to comfort her and calm her down.

Percy takes some moments to analyse Mera’s reaction but otherwise seems unperturbed by the outburst.

“I apologise for my lack of explanation, I simply assumed you were already aware. As someone who has studied criminal psychology for a number of years now, I have come to find an understanding and pattern to their actions. An artefact such as the Arsene Amulet being placed in a museum would attract many opportunists and scalawags seeking the notoriety and validation that such a theft would be assumed to entail, of course their broken vile minds are unable to comprehend that crime leads to nothing but suffer, but I digress. With crime rate increasing and many of my disenfranchised troubled peers flock to criminal dens of debauchery such as the Banzai Blaster”

Percy looks to her personal belongings “it is for those reasons why I always carry this” she begins to motion to a real ass goddamn sword which she is carrying, causing another startled reaction from Mera and a look of amazement from Indus.

“Is that...?” Indus asks with a tone of wonder. Percy nods and confirms “Indeed it is. But do not be alarmed, I assure you on my honour as a psychologist that I am both fully trained and licenced to wield such a weapon and am prepared to only use it for the purpose of self-defence”

Indus and Mera both stare at her for a while, Indus is the one to break the silence with a request “Please remain here young psychologist, while me and my apprentice talk over there”

Both Indus and Mera scuttle off to a corner to talk, while Percy stands there politely waiting. After a while they return.

“So… look here’s the deal kid. We thought about it and with all these threats of thieves and stuff around, it might not hurt to have another ear in the museum. Just so long as you stay in the offices while we’re busy” says Mera, to which Indus smiles which prompts Mera herself to give a small smile.

Indus pats Percy on the back “It is our honour to support the troubles of a young scholar such as yourself”

Percy has a look of gratitude “As a fellow academic I thank you. And you have my word that I go over my research away from your work while you are busy. And also, that I will make sure to report any suspicious behaviour to you”

==================================================================================

Meanwhile across town Molly had just finished stocking the last of the shelves with the new toys she had made. Her face plastered with false joy for the sake of the annoying customers which just love to continually interrupt her stocking with obvious and meaningless questioning.

“Right over there, sir” “No need to worry sir” “What can I for you sir” “Sorry sir those coupons are for other competitors” “I’m sorry we failed to meet your satisfaction sir”

These are some of the phrases she has trained herself to repeat without thinking since she was ten. Even if her main job was filling her dad’s place as the toymaker, she did still have to deal with customers often, and Lorelai just loved every chance to outsource her own work to Molly.

False smiles and resisting the urge to hit people who deserve it so much has been Molly’s life. She would’ve gotten crazy by now if she didn’t get a chance to be herself around her friends, and by friends she means fellow criminals.

Stocking the last shelf, Molly proceeds to make her way to the counter, stopping several times to deal with customer, all while she retained the same level of faux cheerfulness that is expected of those in retail. She walked steadily forward in the heels she swapped out her working boots for, as her mother has always made sure Molly knew to keep up appearances when in working among customers.

“All selves are done Lorelai and my shift is over. I’ll just be clocking out and heading back to my apartment to get ready for night school now” Molly doesn’t wait for her sister’s response and instead simply takes her leave, clocking out and letting another staff member know just in case Lorelai wasn’t paying attention. With their mum still probably off discussing business deals across town, it would be up to the hired staff to keep an eye on Lorelai for the night, Molly gave a silent prayer for their continued relative sanity.

She takes off her apron and places it in a small back closet of the store and continues outside in her simple green dress after having her nametag placed in her bag, nothing about her would make her stand out but anything other than a normal woman. The special devices for the heist which she has made on the side were store safely to be ‘collected’ later. Having to juggle her legitimate and illegitimate work was tough but her first job as a Banzai Captain was worth it.

Making sure to get to the bus stop before it gets too dark, she rushed to the nearby bus stop just in time to catch the next one to her apartment.

She sits down and crosses her legs, looking like just any other passenger. And just like any other passenger gets up and calmly walks from the bus and to her stop when it is called.

The rest of the walk to her apartment is simple as she wears a mask, the mask which she has trained herself to wear for almost a decade. Token girlish giggles at compliments and flirts, smile at passersby, one foot forward at a time. Her mum had always ‘encouraged’ her to act as expected and in public nothing about Molly Blyndeff deviated from what one might expect a young woman in both life in the retail world would act.

She buzzed into the apartment complex, waving and smiling at any of her neighbours who by chance were also out and about across the building, even the rude ones. She gave a final token giggle and “Thank you” to the older lady who lived down the hall who had just told her that the heels she wears everyday look particularly nice tonight. She didn’t have anything against the old lady and she did seem perfectly nice to Molly, it’s just that Molly just barely had the energy to deal with anyone after work.

Entering her room with a smile which immediately dissolves the moment the door is shut, Molly collapses into her small bed. Finally feeling the effects of all the energy, she has expended across the day in wearing her mask.

 She just lays there for a while. Not moving. This is one of the few places she can still act herself, its why she worked so hard to get this tiny one room apartment, with the only attachment being a small walk-in closet sized washing room.

Getting up slowly she squeezes into the washing room and splashes some cold water on her face before taking off her dress in favour of some jeans and a purple singlet along with her favourite woolly jacket pulled over it. A cute mildly bear themed head band is snuggled into place among her hair as she takes out her retail heels in favour of criminal sneakers.

Going through her possessions to make sure tonight would go according to her plans, her eyes briefly falling to the smudged-up picture of her family, back when her dad was still alive.

It had been cried on, torn apart and put together again dozens of times and the damage showed, yet despite all this it was one of the few things Molly could see with complete clarity. 

In the picture her dad was alive and holding her mum’s hand. Molly and her young sister both stood between them and Molly had a genuine real smile on her lips, a rarity as the years went on.

“I’m sorry…” she said, and unlike her trained response to customers, this apology came from somewhere else.

Sighing, Molly tucked the photo deep under her clothes, out of sight and out of mind.

What happened all those years ago is irrelevant, all that mattered to Molly tonight was the heist. Night school had simply been a cover for her work with the Banzai Blasters, once Molly may have been uncomfortable with the lies but in the tightly controlled Blyndeff Household she quickly realised that it was the only way to survive.

Refreshed and ready for the night, Molly flashes a wicked grin as she got her bear claws, a literal bear life hand attached to a stick which she can use for self-defence if need be. As well as her pair of hand claws for climbing. Stuffing them into her back for now to avoid unneeded attention.

From the moment she exited her room the mask re-established itself naturally. She walked down the halls, briefly stopping to make some polite small talk with the old lady down the hall due to Molly now having more energy to deal with people.

Soon she returned to her walk. Heading down the streets of the town and towards the building where her night class was allegedly taking place. Her mum’s frequent insistence on keeping up appearance even through tragedy plays through her mind, making her work with ease and an aura of normalcy.

The cute smile of the young woman would seem perfectly normal to those passing by her. And yet a small tint of a maniacal grin itched itself ever so slightly into it, as Molly prepared to take one more step towards freedom.

==================================================================================

Molly sat in the passenger seat of the van, her friend Sound Phoenix, real name Phoenicia Fleecity, sat in the driver’s street. Molly took a moment to look at herself in the small car mirror, her new Banzai Captain uniform and cape caused a real smile to come to her face.

She reminded herself that while in this yellow uniform she wasn’t Molly Blyndeff, the hardworking and cheerful daughter of a respected businesswoman, she was Bear Trap, dark hearted criminal and newly minted Banzai Captain.  

She still remembers the thrill of finding out about her promotion. Her old captain Gorou Shimizaki had been promoted to Banzai Vice Principal despite admittedly not being the most competent individual, thanks in large part due to Bear Trap’s role in the heist of several expensive statues.

Afterwards he took her aside and told her that as his first act as Banzai Vice Principal was stealing a bunch of donuts for himself. She wasn’t sure how that was relevant to her but then he also mentioned that while he was eating those donuts, he thought about all that she’s done to help him and recommended her promotion.

No matter her opinion on the abilities or intelligence of her old captain, she was undeniably thankful to him for that. Being a member of the Banzai Blasters was one of the few things which was truly hers. Rising up the ranks of this pyramid scheme was her way to freedom.

The van pulled up in a hidden spot near the museum, any noise which may have come from it having been muffled by Bear Trap’s Epithet.

Sound Phoenix was left behind in case of need of a speedy get away. The rest of the Banzai Blasters proceeded with their captain while making sure to stay within her noise cancelling field.

They kept the dark sidelines and eventually snuck to the back wall of the building. Molly’s hand claws were may specifically for this kind of obstacle. She had also made sure to use the time she was suppose to be making toys in order to craft several more hand claws for her minions, it was hard but worth it.

The team of thieves proceeded up the wall and using a map they had found online of the semantics of the museum, they walked over to the entrance area, deeming it the best place to begin their search for valuable items to steal and be most alert of any potential dangers.

Sawing a hole in the roof took some time but Bear Trap’s epithet made it so no one could hear it happen. After several silent moments it was done and carefully placed out of the way as they begin lowering themselves with a rope.

Night Fright, also known as Molly’s friend Trixie Roughhouse, remained on the roof to keep watch of any potential dangers.

The rest of the Banzai Blasters entered the Museum along with their leader.

“Alright girls. This is the Sweet Jazz Museum. Now all that’s left to do is stick to my plan and commit all the crimes” she said with a wicked grin which was soon shared by her minions.

“Alright first let’s search this area…” Molly’s voice soon trails off as a young boy with a brush of pink hair atop his head suddenly popped out from behind a desk.

Her mind raced with panic as she rapidly pondered what this child was doing here this late. Where were his parents? Did they abandon him? Did he run away? Is he hurt? Will he yell for the staff? Are his parents the staff?

In her panic she barely noticed she had dropped her muffling bubble and now the silence which filled the room came only from the surprise and shock of those within.

She braced herself for the child’s screams which would no doubt begin once he realises that he’s alone at night with a group of dangerous criminals. She is about to move forward to silence the inevitable screams when to her renewed confusion his face begins shifting not into one of fear but into one of amazement and wonder.

“You’re, criminals! Awesome!” He said with a smile. Bear Trap…. No,… Molly paused in her place, unsure of how to respond to that.

#epithet erased #role swap au #molly blyndeff #slyvester ashling #giovanni potage #lorelai blyndeff #percival kng #indus tarbella #mera salamin #fan fiction #fanfiction

[allisonswritingcorner]

Challenge Days 1&2

I was super busy yesterday, so I’ve done 2k words today to make up for missing yesterday :) Characters belong to myself and @catherinewrites :D

This story isn't about my heroic deeds, some calamity I silenced, or even some woman I wooed. Frankly, this story isn't really about me at all. My name is Anton, and I've been on a few adventures in my time. It was twenty years ago when I first stepped foot on the path that would eventually lead me here.

I was born on the salty waves in a little fishing town far to the west of ____. My Ma always said I was born with the music of the ocean, and even my cries sounded like notes. My Pa would disagree. Whoever you believed, I grew up singing with them, ballads to bring in the salmon, a chorus to stay the sharks, and melodies to clear the skies. I always thought the songs must carry some magic in their key, but as I grew older, many others invited me along to sing with them as they sailed. It never rained while I was on deck, and I've never even seen a shark in my life.

At eighteen I started wondering if there was something to my luck, and saved my last pennies for my very own lute. It was old and worn, but I practiced for hours every night until I got even notes from the strings and I could tie together some kind of tune. The sailors, pirates, and tavern wenches always had a coin to spare at the end of the night, and we enjoyed many wonderful fishing seasons. But something was missing.

My missing piece found me one fateful evening in the form of a weather worn traveler at the front of the tavern. He watched me with a keen eye, and when I finished my performance, he beckoned me over. I took my complimentary tankard to his table and when he spoke, I suddenly understood the words my Ma had always used to describe me. His voice tumbled out in musical notes, though he clearly wasn't singing. "How long have you been performing?" He asked me.

"Professionally," I said as I took a theatrical swig of rum, "two years. But otherwise, Ma'll tell you I've been performing since birth." He chuckled.

"That, my boy, is clear. Tell me, how would you like to be a part of something bigger?" His voice took a conspiratorial tone as he tented his fingers in front of his face and looked at me expectantly.

I deliberated a moment over the rim of my mug and waited until I'd finished the rum off entirely before I answered. "Well, I'm certainly curious," I conceded.

"You, like so many before you, have a destiny, but it's not so flashy as you'll make it seem. Someday, somewhere, someone will need you. And you will be there for them, supporting them toward their destiny. You will never be a hero," he said solemnly, eyes piercing directly into my soul, "but you will be a part of something so much greater. A hero will not exist without you." I had so many questions, but he clearly had better places to be as he stood as soon as he finished talking. I rose to follow him, but he'd vanished as if by magic. There I stood, rooted to the spot, wondering just what he'd been talking of and why he'd disappeared, when I noticed something lay in the seat he'd vacated.

A well worn violin lay there, bow and all. I lifted it gingerly, afraid I might break it, and inspected the instrument. It had clearly seen many years of use, one of the strings needed replaced and the bow was threading badly. A long gash on it's back, from one end to the other, spoke of adventures as loudly as the mysterious man had. Strange as it sounds, this piece of wood and string sang to me, of wonder and adventure, of great deeds and incredible feats.

Much as I'd wanted to immediately take the bow to those strings, I knew it would only squeal in disapproval in its current state. I went to the peddler who'd sold me my lute and begged him to find some way to get it back into usable condition. He was clueless, a mere middleman, but directed me to the instrument's producer a town over.

I took my meager earnings and with them, my first step on what would become my new life. My new destiny.

This "Destiny", it would turn out, was tagging along on quests with other inexperienced teens to their inevitable doom that I would somehow survive, and then dragging myself to the nearest town to get myself patched up and, by some other miracle, weasel my way out of paying. After that, I found a slightly more experienced group of adventurers to follow, now with a few more songs and spells under my belt. The results were much the same. So much so that it became a routine.

Between the first band and now, I barely remember any of their names now. I learned over those years that the world is full of die hards, try hards, and blow hards, and dismally short of actual heroes. I'd just returned to a routine haunt after yet another horrifying disappointment a week before the real story starts. The tavern wenches all knew me, and the barkeep had my room at the ready when he learned I was in town.

On that stage, I sang as I always did, a few tunes that turned the room to merriment. They were all songs I'd learned elsewhere - I had been on no adventures worth relaying. This would be my life, I'd thought to myself as I drew the bow across strings that had become old friends over the last twenty years and let familiar words simply tumble from my lips. Honestly I didn't think I had another adventure in me. I knew I was getting old, becoming one of those has-been's whose glory days were long behind them. I'd expected so much more.

Feeling the melancholy tinge my words, I redirected my thoughts to perhaps something that might cheer me up. I scanned the faces at the tables, singling out any lovely young ladies that might turn my night around, if only the night. A lovely blonde in the front immediately caught my attention, entranced as she was in my performance. There was also a beautiful redhead leaning against the wall, looking all dangerous and exciting.

Neither gave me pause, however, like a young woman tucked away in the corner, dark hair spilling over her drawn shoulders, arms crossed on the table in front of her. She looked . . . tortured, haunted despite clearly looking quite young as well. She couldn't be over twenty, but when her green eyes rose to meet mine? I stumbled over my words for the first time since I was young. Something about her commanded all of my attention, and it took everything I had to finish the song I'd started. As I did, I took the violin from under my chin and bowed with my bow as I always did, and hopped off the stage. The barkeep shoved a tankard into my hand as I passed and I set a copper piece on the counter, asking for a warm cider as well. Armed with drinks and my good old bravado, I approached the corner of the tavern.

She seemed lost in her own world as I set the mug in front of her. Her eyes snapped up, wide and surprised as I sat across from her. "You looked like you could use a drink?" I started, tipping my own tankard toward her.

"I don't . . . drink," she said quietly, voice betraying perhaps a little more youth than I'd originally estimated.

"Fear not, my dear, it's cider, not ale." I took a swig of my own drink. "What's got you here in _____?" She didn't answer, instead more interested in the drink I'd brought her. She sniffed it curiously, suspiciously rather, then took a quick sip. It must have met her standards, as she immediately took a much bigger gulp after that. It took a lot of restraint not to laugh. "Are you from around here? I don't think I've ever seen you, though it's been a while since I've -"

"Listen," she interrupted, nearly slamming the tankard on the wooden table, "I don't know what you're after, but you won't find it here. I'm . . ." she trailed off. "I'm busy."

"Oh yes, busy," I chuckled, "sitting mysteriously in tavern corners all night?" She glared at me and I dropped her possible age down well below the twenty mark. This was a child I was talking to, and I felt her tug at some other part of me. "Are you on your own?"

"Yes, and I can handle myself just fine." She defiantly drank the rest of the cider and stood, turning sharply to leave. After a few steps, she paused and half turned around. "Thank you for the cider." But I was distracted by how . . . small she was. A full two heads shorter than most of the other patrons, and some intrinsic instinct in me pulled me to my own feet and out the door after her.

"Wait," I called, jogging a little to catch up. "Please." She stopped in her tracks but didn't turn around. I caught up and circled around her. "You must be after something, right? You look like someone searching for an answer." She broke eye contact, gaze falling to our feet.

"Why do you care?" She was defensive, well guarded.

"Everyone always tells me I'm too nosy for my own good," I joked. It fell flat, so I decided to take a more sincere route. "You're clearly young. Even if it's some simple task, you shouldn't be alone in places like this. Especially with a pretty face. Someone will nab you in a heartbeat."

"They'd regret touching me." I rolled my eyes. Was this why everyone complained about teenagers?

"Let me help? I have connections, experience, and the means to get you a room at the inn." She looked ready to deny me the same as she'd been doing all evening, when a gargling sound caught both of our attention. "Meals included." With a scowl, she crossed her arms over her traitorous belly.

"You'll get hurt. Probably die."

"Quit being so dramatic, that's my job. I've been through about two of your lifetimes. I think I'll be okay." I led her back toward the tavern. "What's your name?"

"Siren."

It was definitely a fake name, but I decided poking her anymore tonight was probably a bad idea. I requested another room and full dinner prepared, and the barkeep looked at me with confusion that I quickly dispelled with a gesture to my young new companion. He handed over a key that she took gingerly, making sure to keep from touching his fingers.

Her room was a number up from mine, so just passed my door. I bid her goodnight and heard nothing after save the wench that brought her dinner up from the kitchen. I had no idea what the next morning would bring, so I resigned myself to waking up before the sun.

When I woke, it was still dark out my window. I packed up my few belongings in my satchel and set off down the stairs. Siren was nowhere to be found in the dining room and I sighed, wondering if I'd been duped out of a room and food. Soft steps behind me denied this as I turned to see her not far behind me. There were dark circles under her eyes and she  looked even grumpier than she had last night. Clearly not a morning person.

"Where are we headed?" I asked.

"There's someone I need to talk to," she mumbled.

"Lead the way," I gestured in front of us. "Who is this someone?"

"He has information I need." Like pulling teeth. I concluded I'd spend much of our time together knowing absolutely nothing. Well, it couldn't be worse than being dragged into some deep cavern full of horrifying monsters just because someone sniffed out gold. She did lead, carefully, if a bit clumsily, weaving between people and not touching a soul.

-TBC-

#original story #original characters #alicatwritingchallenge

[kpopfanfictrash]

Blackjack (II)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jungkook

Rating: 18 + (explicit sex, mafia!AU)

Warning: public sex, spanking

Word Count: 6,525

Summary: Bangtan is one of the most vicious mafias on the west coast. Only six members are known by name though, with a mysterious seventh member dubbed only as ‘the shadow.’ When you become indebted to the worst of the worst – how, exactly can you find a way out?

“No,” you respond, automatic. Head spinning, you take a shaky step backwards. “No, this is Jungkook. You said he was a member of the police, Taehyung.”

Taehyung’s upper lip curls. “Not only that,” he grins, as though you have said nothing. “Y/N slept with you, Kookie, because of a bet owed to me.” When he laughs, it displays blindingly white teeth. “A debt she’s now free and clear from, though – thanks to you,” he says, clapping Jungkook on the back.

Shaking out of his grip, Jungkook surveys Taehyung coldly. “What did you tell her about me?” he repeats, his tone dangerous. “Tell me what you told her.”

Jungkook does not address the bet, but the lines around his mouth tighten. It seems he does not wish to discuss this yet – you cannot blame him for that.

Smirking lightly, Taehyung presses a finger to Jungkook’s chest. “Relax,” he says, arching a brow. “Look how well this all turned out for you.”

Though Jungkook’s expression is stoic, the air between them has thickened. “You had no fucking right,” Jungkook mutters, stepping forward. “You had no right to say anything, do anything to her.”

Eyes widening, you stare. It seems ridiculous for Jungkook to be sticking up for you right now. As Taehyung just explained to him, you lied. When you approached Jungkook, you pretended it was about him when in reality, it was about you and your debt. Everything after was true, but the rest was a lie. It makes your stomach sick just to think about.

The only reason you approached him was due to the debt – but then you realize something, freezing in place. Jungkook was not the only person lied to last night. 

“Taehyung,” you mutter, staring hard at the member. “Why the fuck did you tell me Jungkook was a cop? If you knew who he was, why did you lie about it? Why... why ask me to make him leave at all?”

Taehyung leans one shoulder to the wall. “I thought it’d be amusing,” he shrugs, grin broadening. “As it turns out – I was right.”

Jungkook growls, taking a step forward – until you thrust out a hand, fingertips grazing his chest. It is not worth it for them to get in a fight. Not when Jungkook has done nothing wrong. He freezes, gaze almost hesitant as he assesses your touch. 

Seeing Jungkook like this, Taehyung lets out a whistle. “W-ow,” he drawls, pulling out the word. “Looks like you’ve got the kid whipped, Y/N.”

That is it. Taehyung has shredded your last semblance of patience. Shrugging, you step out of Jungkook’s way. He smiles, lunging forward and you do nothing to stop him. 

Grabbing Taehyung by the front of his robes, Jungkook hoists him up on the wall – his face is taut, eyes dark. “I would consider your next words carefully,” Jungkook says. “Think hard before spurting whatever vomit you usually spew from your mouth.”

To your surprise, Taehyung does not respond. He glares hard at Jungkook, clenching his jaw – but says nothing.

Slowly, you step forward. “I – okay,” you exhale, reaching out. “Jungkook, let him down.”

Now, Jungkook looks at you. “Are you sure?” he says, adjusting his grip. “I might be the least known member of Bangtan, Y/N, but I’m the one no one dares cross.” His ensuing smile is grim.

When Taehyung does not correct this, you realize it must be true. Usually, Taehyung always has a smart remark at his bidding. Seeing him speechless is unnerving, at best.

“Let go,” you repeat, still glaring at Taehyung. “He may be an idiot, but Lena would kill me if anything serious happened to him.”

With an apathetic shrug, Jungkook opens his hands. Taehyung’s feet hit the ground, whirling to angrily disentangle himself from his robe. “Thanks,” Taehyung mutters, giving you a curt nod. “I’ll just let the two of you… talk, then.”

When Taehyung walks past, a lone muscle ticks in Jungkook’s jaw. Jungkook watches him go, staring until a far-off door slams at the end of the hall. Silence settles between you, a thick kind of quiet you cannot decipher.

Slowly, you face Jungkook. “So. You’re not the police.”

“No.” Jungkook continues staring down the hall. “So, you slept with me for a bet.”

Swiftly, your stomach drops. “It wasn’t – it wasn’t like that,” you protest, even though it was. Truthfully, you do not know why you are bothering. This was just supposed to be a one night thing. It does not matter what he thinks of you; not really.

“No?” Jungkookg looks at you, gaze dark. “Then, tell me – what was it? Was it good for you,” he murmurs, stepping forward. “Or did you fake that? I just – how can you even stand to look at me,” he asks, lips white with anger. “Taehyung made you sleep with me to rid yourself a debt. I – I didn’t know, Y/N. I swear it,” he confesses, gaze pleading.

He seems genuinely tortured by the fact that you might think this about him. This, more than anything, makes your heart hurt.

“I,” you start to say, then stop. Perhaps it was naïve of you, but you had not considered that prospect before. Jungkook seemed too sincere last night, too genuine to have been in on Taehyung’s scam. “I know that, Jungkook,” you say gently. “I don’t think that of you. All Taehyung asked me to do was get you to leave. That’s it.”

“Get me to leave by fucking me,” Jungkook corrects, bitter. His exhale is heavy. “I understand, Y/N.”

“No,” you insist, lowering your head to your hands. “No, no, no. That was separate,” you mutter between fingers. Your palms are easier to confess to than him. “I wanted to sleep with you, I wasn’t forced into anything besides talking to you. I swear.”

Jungkook pauses for a long moment. “Talk to me?”

Slowly, you look at him. “I lost at a table and Taehyung offered me a way out. The cost seemed simple, so I agreed. I didn’t even pause to think. I just,” you hesitate, lowering your hands. “I could have left once we got outside – but I didn’t.”

Silently, Jungkook stares. “Why didn’t you leave? If that’s all Taehyung asked.”

“Because,” you say, cheeks heating. “I didn’t want to.”

When you say this, Jungkook’s expression shifts. Somewhat hesitant, he takes a step forward. “Tell me why you didn’t want to leave,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to your hair. Gently, he pushes a strand from your face.

“Jungkook,” you say – trying and failing to ignore your racing heart. “You’re a member of Bangtan.”

“Yes,” he agrees, lowering his face until his nose finds your jaw. “I am.”

“Jungkook,” you whisper – so softly, he stops. “I don’t want to be involved with Bangtan.”

Jungkook stills. “You truly didn’t know who I was?” he asks, pulling away. “You didn’t know what I was?”

Gently, you shake your head no.

“So, when I said I was trying to keep a low profile.” Jungkook seems genuinely curious. “You honestly thought what – that I was a policeman?”

He sounds vaguely insulted but you nod. “Well, yeah. That’s what Taehyung told me.”

“And you believed him?” Jungkook responds, incredulous. “You thought that I – the shadow of Bangtan – was a fucking cop?”

He seems incensed by the idea and, for some reason, his reaction makes you grin. To watch one of the most dangerous men on the west coast disintegrate to pettiness over a comparison is amusing. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, trying hard not to smile. “What even is a shadow? Sounds like a comic book villain dreamt up by a twelve-year old.”

Irked, Jungkook’s tongue presses to his cheek. “The shadow,” he grunts. “Is whatever Bangtan needs it to be.” Taking a step closer, Jungkook slides a hand to the base of your neck. “The shadow is wherever he is needed to be,” he adds, thumb brushing a vein. “The position is night, untouched by the rest. The shadow moves quickly, unseen and barters in deeds left unsaid.”

“So – you’re Bangtan’s hit man,” you surmise.

Fighting back a smile, Jungkook arches a brow. “So much more than that,” he chuckles. “Hitman has such a… lack of feeling to it.”

“You kill, you steal, you maim.” You tick each option off on your fingers. “While you do this, you ensure no one sees – you make certain no one knows your face. Did I miss anything?”

Pretending to count, Jungkook nods. “You missed my dastardly good lucks. I usually start off with those.”

“Right.” Rolling your eyes, you duck free from his grasp. Seeing no more reason to stay, you begin to walk down the stairs. At the bottom, his hand finds your arm.

“Wait,” Jungkook blurts, pulling you to face him.

Blinking upwards, you realize you did not hear him follow. That, in itself, is unusual. Usually, you are very good at not being found. “What is it?” you say, glancing around.

Staring intently, Jungkook’s hand falls to his side. “Are you really going to leave?”

“I…” After a moment of hesitation, you nod. “Yes. Why – do you want me to stay? You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me, either,” Jungkook counters. “Can you truly say you don’t want to?”

Heart pounding, memories of last night return. The car ride home, Jungkook’s cock hard between your thighs, the press of his palms on your skin, how good he looked with his lower lip caught between teeth. You remember how easily he switched from dominant to submissive, how he made you come like no one else has before. The memories make you shiver. But –

“No,” you state. 

Your breath hitches when Jungkook takes a step closer. “No?” he whispers, lifting a hand to your cheek.

“I – is Jungkook even your real name,” you stutter.

“Of course it is.” Expression shuttering, Jungkook drops his hand. “You were the one who lied to me – remember?”

At this, you blink. There is accusation to his tone and you cannot help yourself, you get angry. After all, this is a member of Bangtan you are speaking with. Someone who just admitted to being a glorified hit man.

“And how did that feel?” you muse, tilting your head. No matter how good Jungkook is between the sheets, he is not safe for you to get close to – barely, is it safe for you to know his name. “How did it feel to be the one being tricked for a change?”

Rather than be embarrassed, Jungkook smiles. “Tricked?” He chuckles, lazy. “I had been watching you for over an hour that night. Believe me, if Taehyung hadn’t sent you my way – I would have come to you.”

His response stops you cold. “I – what?” 

Jungkook’s shrug is casual, as though he could not be bothered. “Yes.”

“But… why?” you blink, bewildered. “Why me?”

“Y/N.” Jungkook smirks. “Are you truly going to play coy after last night? You’re a beautiful woman. Beautiful, and yet – you didn’t seem to care for anyone there. I tend to notice outsiders and I’ll admit, you were intriguing. When you sat down at my table, my interest only grew.”

Breath catching, you look up at him. Jungkook is now close enough to kiss, to slide your hands around his waist – but you do not. “The reason I was alone,” you respond softly, “is because Lena does not know everything about me, nor my past. And – neither do you,” you add.

Turning around, you faintly run towards the front doors. Any longer and you are not certain you could convince yourself to go. Shoving open the doors to outside, you stare out at Jungkook’s front lawn. Only hesitant for a moment, you rush down the steps and out of his sight. The stairs are clean and white, curving onto an emerald lawn as the door falls shut behind you. For a second, you wonder if Jungkook will chase after you.

He does not.

Continuing down the drive, you find the entrance closed and at the bottom of the hill, you stare helplessly at the gate. You have no key, no access code, but just as you think this, the gate creaks open. Staring for a moment, you glance at the camera perched up above. The lens is swiveled your way, as though someone watches – so, you mouth, “Thank you,” before slipping past.

Outside, your stomach sinks again. You have no idea where you are. Everything from the night before is a blur and, lifting a hand to your forehead, you squint into the sun. If only you knew how to tell directions from the way the light falls. Your brother tried to teach you once, but you quickly forgot. Even worse, pulling your phone from your pocket – you find the battery dead, since running into Taehyung and Jungkook.

Even if you somehow manage to find the bus station, you do not have your bus pass. The train is a no-go, as well – you have no idea where the nearest stop is. The only option left is hitchhiking; which is wildly dangerous, not to mention humiliating. Closing your eyes, you exhale – only to jump, when a car horn blares behind you.

“Ma’am,” calls a voice. The window rolls down on a long, mirrored town car. Blinking, you recognize the same vehicle from last night. “I have been instructed to escort you from the premises. Master Jeon requested I drive you to any destination you choose.”

Staring back, you lift a brow. “And – why would Master Jeon do that?”

The ghost of a smile plays at his lips. “I do not question orders, ma’am. I obey them.”

At this, a chill runs down your spine. The words are too familiar. “What neighborhood are we in?” you exhale, uncrossing your arms.

“A far one.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes and consider. With your phone dead, you have few options left. Taking your chances walking is one of those options – or, you can get in the car. Nodding reluctantly, you grab the door’s handle. “Fine,” you exhale, sliding in to buckle your seat belt. “580 NW 14th St.”

With a curt nod, the driver places his car in drive. Pulling away from the house, you settle backwards and try not to remember last night. It is hard, since you are sitting in the same vehicle Jeon Jungkook kissed you hungrily in, his right knee pressed to yours while your heart hammered against him.

Still, you did the right thing. You know that this with certainty – and yet somehow, your stomach sinks at the memory. Even though Lena might be cleared by Bangtan, even though she might be considered ‘safe’ by their group – you are not. Jungkook does not know who you are, not really and if he did, he might think twice before inviting you to stay.

Eyes opening, you stare at the ceiling of the car. Your life has not always been like this; you have not always had a place of your own, have not been able to maintain a steady income, or hold down a job. Not long ago, things were much harder for you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you attempt to block out those memories. This is not something you wish to think about. Not now – not here.

It means you cannot see Jungkook again, though. You cannot, since you have no desire to ever remember that world. Bangtan is a life full with crime, full of darkness and shadow – pardon the name. This is the world Jungkook belongs to, and it is the world from which you have escaped.

While the driver car navigates the city, you begin to wonder what other trips he has led. You wonder what chases he has been on, what crime scenes he has fled from. He must have, working for Bangtan. The man has likely seen his fair share of sin, and you wonder idly how he got into this business.

Your meanderings are cut short by the appearance of your building; pushing open the door, you squint out at the day. Hovering on the sidewalk, you peer back at the driver. “Thank you,” you say, waiting until he looks. “I do appreciate the ride home.”

“Don’t mention it,” he responds, arching a brow – until you shut the door between you.

Turning around, you walk into your building. The apartment you rent is tiny, nothing to write home about. Climbing the steps to the fourth floor, you scan the brick walls of your building. Your main room is small, barely enough space to throw down your keys, but it is home. It is the first place you have ever called that word and meant it.

Even though your bed is also your couch, even though your counter is also your table – even though there is no microwave, no washer/dryer and the people below are always too loud, it is more than you have ever had before. Walking towards your bed, you tug your dress overhead to replace with soft sweatpants and a t-shirt, trying your hair into a bun to collapse onto the mattress.

Plugging your phone in, you wonder if Jungkook will call. He seemed the determined type, the type who might try and find you – but no, you specifically told him not to. If he does find you, Jungkook would be just like the others and would have proved your point perfectly. Stomach sinking, you stare up at the ceiling and attempt to squash the uncomfortable feeling that you just made the wrong call.

You do want to see Jeon Jungkook again. Sighing in frustration, you turn over in bed to get some more sleep. What you want does not matter. Not here, at least.

Weeks pass before you deign to talk to Lena again.

Daily, she calls to tell you she is sorry. Sorry she left, sorry that Taehyung took advantage of you like that. “Honestly,” she insists, pleading in her voicemail. “He hasn’t gotten sex since that night. I tease him, then I leave him with blue balls – I swear! Taehyung promised me, Y/N, that you were never in any real danger. He would have let you off the hook, he just wanted to make some money on those tourists. Y/N – I just,” she exhales, voice lowering. “I miss you. Call me back.”

After the nineteenth phone call, you dial Lena’s number. “Hi, asshole,” you greet, patting your face mask in the mirror.

“Y/N!” Lena gasps, yelping as she nearly falls off her bed. There is a rustling noise on her end before her voice reappears. “You called me back! I am so sorry,” she adds quickly, as though you might hang up before she gets the chance.

“Yeah, I got that,” you exhale, looking down. A smile creeps into your voice. “Look. I forgive you. Taehyung, on the other hand – he can suck my balls.”

Lena snorts, somewhat weakly. “I don’t know if he’ll be offended or pleased by that, honestly.”

“Yuck,” you whine, wrinkling your nose at your reflection. “I don’t know what you see in that guy, Len.”

“I don’t know what you see in Jungkook,” Lena teases, bed springs squeaking beneath her. “I saw the two of you leave the club. Tell me what happened – what’s he like? Taehyung never says anything about him whenever I ask. I assume he does something with Hoseok, or maybe with Jimin? Something secretive, something cool.” She giggles. “Either way, Jungkook is super-hot – so, way to go.”

Groaning, you lower your head. “It doesn’t matter how hot he is,” you say, turning away from the mirror. “I can’t see him anymore.”

“Really?” Lena sounds surprised. “Why not? I’ve never seen him talk to anyone at a party before. Not that he usually goes to those kinds of things,” she adds, thoughtful.

“Oh?” you ask, attempting to hide your interest. “Why not?”

Lena chuckles, not explaining further. “What does it matter if you don’t want to see him again?”

“Fuck you,” you exhale, flopping onto your bed. “I don’t want to see Jungkook again, I just – I was just curious. Listen, I need to wash this face mask off before my skin hardens irreparably. I wanted to call, though and say the freeze-out is officially over.”

Lena laughs, clicking her tongue. “Alright, fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. And Y/N,” she adds, voice softening. “I missed you. I really am sorry.”

You nod, although you know she cannot see. “I know,” you murmur, before hanging up.

Looking up from your bed, it is a struggle to recognize the girl in the mirror. You keep seeing the girl before now, the girl you have done your best to forget – then, you roll from the mattress and wash your face clean.

The clay runs smooth, like blood in the water.

“Holy shit.” Lena’s mouth drops staring up at the board. “Just one, Grande pumpkin spice latte is 260 calories. That’s insane – why don’t they just pipe fat directly into my veins?”

Snorting, you step up to the counter. “One, iced Grande coffee with a pump of caramel and room for milk,” you request, digging around in your purse. With a shrug, you glance at Lena. “You could just get it with skim milk, no whip.”

Lena groans. “That was with skim milk, no whip.”

“Really?” Eyes widening, you look at the cashier. “That is crazy.”

The guy laughs, unable to help himself. “I know,” he apologizes. “It really is dumb. You might as well eat a candy bar, right?”

Eyes brightening, Lena leans her elbows on the counter. “That’s what I’m saying,” she says, making the guy blush. “Finally – an intelligent person to converse with. Y/N, please leave us. Me and – Ben, right? – have important things to discuss.”

Ben flushes further, as you roll your eyes at the ceiling. Lena tends to have this effect on people. It is surprising Lena is flirting right now, though – the freeze-out with Taehyung must be more serious than you thought. 

Just as you think this, the bell over the shop door chimes.

Taehyung enters the shop, shaking hair from his gaze – only to stop, seeing the picture before him. Lena smiles at the male cashier, batting her eyelashes. Ben is clearly enamored, and Taehyung’s hands roll into fists in response.

From the sidelines, you see all this happen and groan when your drink is pressed into your hand. “Len,” you mutter, nudging her with your elbow. “I would stop now.”

Turning around, Lena blinks at the sight of her boyfriend. “Hi, honey,” she calls, waving.

Upon seeing Taehyung, the cashier recoils. Quickly turning around, he busies himself with things at the front counter. He seems to be wishing hard for invisibility. You cannot say that you blame him – Taehyung is livid, glaring lividly at Ben and not looking like someone to be messed with. The steam rising from his ears is practically visible.

Then – to your complete and utter surprise – Taehyung exhales. Slowly, he lets go of his fists and smiles tersely at Lena. “Hi, sweetie,” he drawls, walking forward. Brushing her waist, he places a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful today.”

Nearly choking, you sputter into your coffee – as Taehyung turns sideways to face you. “Something wrong?” he asks, sliding a hand around Lena’s waist. “I’m just making sure my girlfriend,” he says, looking at the cashier, “knows she’s valued. Making sure she knows I value her – both for her independence, and for her boundaries.”

Lena seems dangerously close to laughter. Lips turning white, she struggles to suppress her humor – while you stare at her boyfriend, clearly awed. “What was it you said to me other day?” you ask, raising a brow. “About your… friend, being whipped?”

Gaze darkening, Taehyung shrugs. “Maybe I was projecting my feelings.”

Lena’s shoulders start shaking, unable to control herself any longer. “Okay, this is kind of weird,” she grins, leaning up to kiss Taehyung’s cheek. “A good weird, though. Thanks babe,” she adds, so quiet you barely hear.

“Welcome,” Taehyung mumbles into her hair, pulling her close.

“Alright,” you groan, grabbing your coffee and turning away. “This is officially nauseating. I need to leave.”

When you move to walk past, Taehyung catches your elbow. “Hey,” he says. Surprised, you look and find something like remorse to his gaze. “I’m – I’m sorry,” he blinks.

You freeze.

In the entire time you have known him, you have never heard Taehyung apologize. He is more the, ‘this is me,’ ‘these are my views,’ type and, glancing at Lena, she merely shrugs. The corners of her lips are lifted though, and you get the feeling this is all her doing.

Taehyung’s seems words do seem sincere, though – which makes you pause. “Apology accepted,” you exhale, turning away.

For all his faults, Taehyung truly does love Lena. Even though he messed with you, even though he may have been serious about it – in Bangtan, the members of their family are untouchable. Taehyung is so high in their ranks; were anyone to threaten Lena, he would have full authority to kill them. There would be no consequences, no questions asked and that same kind of protection is extended to Lena’s loved ones, if she so chooses. For some reason, you have the oddest sensation this protection was just extended to you. Taehyung apologizing means he sees you as an equal.

This knowledge makes you dizzy as, walking towards the doors, you realize the implication. Before, you were worried about Bangtan knowing who you were – but they already do. Your name has already been noted, you are already being protected and before you can stop yourself, you are turning around. 

“Tae,” you blurt out, catching yourself by surprise.

His gaze snaps up, confused. “Yeah?”

“Is there,” you hesitate, swallowing. “Are there any more parties happening… soon?”

Discretely, he arches a brow. “We’re having one tonight,” he admits, glancing at Lena. “If you do decide to come,” he says, attempting to be subtle. “I bet someone else would, too.”

You stare at him for a moment, then nod. “Whatever.”

With that, you leave. The door falls shut behind you, heart hammering against your ribcage while you exit the shop. That was idiotic. You should not have done that, should not have said anything and yet – coming to a stop, you stare at the stop light. This still does not mean anything. You do not have to go, after all. You do not have to see him.

Even as you think this, you know it is a lie. These past few weeks, your thoughts have been consumed by Jeon Jungkook. In the precious moments between sleep and wakefulness – he is all that you think of. You think of his arms on your waist, his warm limbs pulling you close. The color of his eyes, the softness of his hair, the press of his lips.

The stoplight turns green. Realizing this, you dart forward and, sipping your coffee, decide that you will go to the party. You will go, if only to remind yourself that Jeon Jungkook is only human. He is not worth the obsession and, the sooner you realize this, the sooner you can get over him.

But what if – and here, you hesitate – what if, you decide you want him?

Shaking this thought away, you unlock your apartment to step swiftly inside.

The party is dark and noisy that night. 

Crowded with smoke and bodies, it seems more intimate than the last one you beheld. Stuck to the sidelines, you nurse the whiskey you hold with both hands. Lifting this to your lips, you wince at the recollection that you hate the burn of the drink. Even though you despise it, you cannot seem to stop drinking.

Taehyung and Lena stand at the bar, his dark gaze sweeping the room with a practiced air, even as his fingers trace circles over her lower back. He leans in, whispering something that makes Lena laugh, all the while looking at the man by the doorway. The man is unfamiliar to you; he seems to be to Taehyung as well, since you see him gesture once and tilt his head to one side. The movement is hardly visible, but Seokjin appears.

Seokjin glances at the stranger, eyes narrowed with displeasure. Leaning forward, he murmurs something to Taehyung before he withdraws. Intrigued, you watch Seokjin circle the dark edge of the room. He comes to a stop beside Hoseok, dropping his palm flat to the table. Hoseok leans back in his seat, listening to whatever Seokjin is saying. His gaze also finds the gentleman, arching a brow – and then he nods, crooking a finger.

If the stranger were intelligent, he would leave now. A woman appears at Hoseok’s side and, sucking in a breath, you look down. The woman you recognize as Poena – the only name you know her by, although she is sure to have others. Her hair is dark, like her gaze. She stares at the unfamiliar man, listening to Hoseok before she curtly nods. Posture lengthening, her gaze sharpens walking into the crowd. At the strange man’s table, she gently touches his arm. He turns, becoming ashy when he sees whom he faces. Expression shifting, the man stares and the woman’s lips curl into a blood-red smile. She nods at the men on either side until they grasp the stranger by the arms. When she speaks, they escort him from the premises and Poena follows, stride lazy – as though she wishes to take her time with this one. Poena is Hoseok’s highest enforcer. She is a member just below the original Board themselves, in a role she's carved out for herself determinedly over the years. She is Bangtan's torturer, their persuader; a woman capable of things darker than your deepest imagination. Hoseok watches her go, gaze stony and you know he will likely join later. He will, since Hoseok cannot resist the darkest lures of the night.

Poena disappears through the side door and you stare after, knowing full well what will happen. The stranger is an unknown to you, as well. Perhaps he was an informant, perhaps a member of a rival family, or undercover agent. Whatever his backstory is, the result is the same – Poena will take him into her back room, torture him for more information and upon deciding what usefulness he can serve, will either hurt him or kill him. Hoseok’s associates will clean up the mess afterwards.

“You came,” a voice murmurs, soft in your ear.

With a start, you nearly drop your drink as you turn. Jungkook stands before you, on shoulder leaned to the wall. He continues to hold your gaze, dark eyes rife with mischief.

“Jungkook,” you blink, turning away. You were wrong to come here, you realize. Seeing him in the flesh, you understand the lure was not merely your imagination. He is just as powerful, as all-consuming in person as he is in memory.

“Wait,” he says, hands encircling your wrist. “Are you not happy to see me?” Jungkook tilts his head. “I thought you were the one who requested my presence tonight?”

Looking down at your drink, you feel your cheeks heat. “I... well.”

Lifting a hand, Jungkook traces lazily over your collarbone. “Hm?” he murmurs.

When you glance at him, you fall victim to your first mistake. Jungkook is too real, too solid in his presence. His dark hair falls forward, brushing his cheekbones and you begin to lose yourself in his smile. He smells of cedar, juniper – it is a safe kind of smell, but also not. Hand dropping to your waist, Jungkook tugs you towards him.

“Jungkook,” you hesitate, gaze darting over his shoulder. You stare at the door through which Hoseok is walking. The sight turns your stomach and you recall, again, why you cannot be involved with these men. This is Bangtan, this is what Jungkook does – and it is something you never wish to belong to again.

Despite your current reticence though, you realize Jungkook is right. You were the one who asked Taehyung about the party, were the one who asked him to come. You are the one who sought out Jungkook, not the other way around. Despite your repeated attempts at convincing yourself not to desire him, it most certainly seems like you do.

This realization makes you shove his grip from your body. Jungkook’s expression flickers as he takes a step backwards. “I made a mistake,” you say, breath shaking. “I made a mistake in asking you here tonight.”

Turning around, you flee towards the door. Trembling, you shove open the door to the night. The street is dark, a new moon overhead and you take a few, stumbling steps in the direction of the parking lot. You were not required to turn in your phone tonight, which makes you wonder if you have somehow passed all their clearances. You should text Lena and ask, or at least tell her you have gone but somehow you cannot make yourself do either. Shutting your eyes, you squeeze the phone in your palms.

It was the right decision to leave. The sight of Jungkook was too tempting and if you had stayed, you would have gone home with him. Perhaps, you would not have even left the premises. There must be someplace at the club you could go – an unseen corner, an unnoticed room. That is Jungkook’s job, after all. He knows all the places no one else does. If you had stayed, you would have been fucking him by now.

Swallowing hard, you squeeze your phone in your fist. Concentrating on breathing, you push his name from your mind – until smooth fingers wrap around the case to cover yours. Eyes flying open, your breath catches when you see Jungkook standing before you. 

Taking your phone from your gasp, his gaze is hungry before you lift on tip-toe and kiss him. He responds instantly, not giving you time for excuses; his warm body is crushing, while his hands fist in your hair. Lips opening yours, his hips press heatedly forward.

With a groan, your hands slip to entwine with his own. Even though you should not do this, your mouth opens with his. Pulling him closer, you slide both hands under the lining of his jacket. Jungkook exhales at the touch. “You,” he murmurs, breaking away to mouth down your jaw, “are as delicious as I remember.”

With a grunt, he grabs your thighs to lift you against him. Legs wrapping tightly around him, he presses your body to the cold wall behind you. Hips rolling teasingly, he coaxes a whimper from your throat.

Yanking away, there is heat to his gaze. Jungkook’s free hand moves to tangle in your hair. “Just to be clear,” he murmurs, sucking a bruise on your collarbone. “You owe me an explanation. I don’t know what,” he says, thrusting forward, prompting a moan, “you think you’re doing. Asking me to come, then leaving me cold. Anyone would think you’re the one in charge.”

“I am,” you respond breathlessly, cocking a brow.

Jungkook looks up, fighting a smile. He pushes his hips forward, grinding his clothed core into yours. “Then,” he murmurs, sliding your skirt higher and exposing your thighs. “What do you want from me?”

Clenching your legs tightly, you already know that you are wet. The way he looks at you, the timbre of his voice, the skill of his fingers – he has had you soaking ever since entering the club. A fact Jungkook will soon discover, given the trajectory of his fingers. Moving them ever-higher, he brushes circles against your skin. His gaze drops from your face to your chest, then your chest to your thighs. Pushing himself forward, Jungkook stares at the place where your hips meet.

Swallowing hard, you suddenly realize where you are. Anyone could walk around the corner and see you pressed to the wall, legs wrapped tightly around Jungkook. This fact is so concerning that, staring over his shoulder, you fail to notice Jungkook sliding a finger beneath the line of your underwear.

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes dark with pleasure. “You’re so wet.”

Your gaze snaps to his, mouth opening. “Jungkook,” you hiss, breath quickening when he thrusts a finger inside. His thumb strokes your clit, watching your expression shift. “We’re in – oh, god – we’re in public.”

Jungkook doesn’t seem to care, bending forward to capture your mouth with his own. He sucks on your lip, index finger sliding in and out of your body. “So, what?” he murmurs, gently rubbing a circle. “I bet you’d just love to be fucked in public.”

When you fail to respond, Jungkook withdraws. Whimpering at the loss of contact, you shift subtly against him. “Why did you stop?” you whimper, biting down on your lip.

With a grin, Jungkook’s hair falls forward. “I want to hear you say it,” he murmurs, direct. “I want you to ask me. Want to hear you ask to be fucked against a truck, like the dirty girl that you are.”

A moan slips past your lips, turned on by the thought. Glancing the direction Jungkook looks, you notice the empty delivery truck parked off to the side. It sits abandoned, the front hemmed in by both sides of the building and for a moment, you consider saying no. You consider asking Jungkook to take you both home – either to his place, or yours. This brings forth a whole new level of panic though, picturing Jungkook standing inside your tiny apartment. You imagine sleeping again in his, with the other members of Bangtan nearby down the hall. The thought is too much, you are not ready for that level of commitment – and so, you groan.

“Fine,” you grind out, looking back at him. It is difficult not to reveal how turned on you are now. “I want it.”

“Sorry?” Jungkook slowly kisses his way down your jaw. “What do you want?”

“I want,” you gasp, head hitting the wall. “I want you to fuck me against that truck. I want you to fuck me right now, Jungkook – against a wall, a truck, wherever, just stick your fucking cock in me.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your throat before he lets go. “As you wish.”

Hands dropping, he lowers your body until you stand on the ground. Tugging you forward, Jungkook watches you adjust your dress. As soon as you reach the wall, Jungkook yanks you before him. His fingers interlock with yours, pressing you against the hood of the truck. He positions himself behind, one hand lowering your front to the hood. Exhaling, your blood thrums with excitement as he shimmies your dress higher; lifting slowly, hands caressing your ass.

Jungkook’s thumb traces your soaked panties. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he moans, slipping a finger inside.

With a whimper, you push back against his hand. The sounds of him entering you are slick, lewd – he moves fast, pressing your body tight to the hood. With a hum, Jungkook brings his second hand to your front, cupping your chest. He yanks the fabric down, exposing your breast and roughly rolling a nipple. Teasing you into submission, he flicks with a finger while his other one fucks from behind.

With a gasp, your fingernails dig into the hood. Bent half-naked before him, the pleasure is nearly unbearable. With a moan, you push your hips backwards and try to remain quiet. Leaving your chest, Jungkook slides his hand lower, in between the wetness of your legs.

“God,” you groan, when his finger circles your clit. Stroking over your sex, Jungkook adds another finger from behind.

“That’s right,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to your shoulder. With one final curl, he withdraws his hand from your body.

“Jungkook,” you whimper, glancing over your shoulder. You nearly lose control at the sight which greets you.

Jungkook has pushed his pants to his knees and strokes his cock with one hand, staring at your soaked center. Upon meeting your gaze, he lifts a brow and rolls the condom onto himself. “Turn around, babe,” he instructs, guiding your movements. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”

Stretching your hands on the hood, he nudges your legs further apart. As he does, you feel his cock at your entrance, drenched in your arousal. Jungkook slides his tip up and down, moaning in approval at the feel of your body. When he enters, stretching you slow, it is hard not to make any noise. He moves in gentle, shallow thrusts until you are wet enough to take him – until your body clenches around him, and Jungkook knows to move faster.

“Shit,” he groans, pulling out. Grabbing your hips, Jungkook pants for a moment before slamming suddenly in. “Your cunt,” he grunts, beginning a punishing rhythm, “is so fucking tight.”

Moving faster, Jungkook pushes you down on the hood. His hand slides down to your ass, grabbing tightly to fuck you against the metal. When he spanks you, the pleasure is unexpected. The sound of skin hitting skin greets your ears, his cock thrusting deeper with each punishing stroke. Gently, Jungkook rubs your stinging flesh with his palm and continues moving his hips.

“Oh,” you groan, when he does this again. His hand is loud, sting turning quickly to pleasure.

“You like that, don’t you,” he murmurs, bending forward. His hand moves from your ass to your front, finding your clit and fucking you harder. “You like being fucked from behind, like being spanked. God,” he groans, gently biting your shoulder. “You’re so fucking hot.”

You moan, unable to articulate around the thrust of his hips. Slamming into you deeply, he rubs tight circles on your clit until you start to see stars. Vision turning black at the corners, every part of you on edge, you feel yourself clenching around him. Jungkook begins to flick over your clit, whispering your name in your ear as your knees roughly buckle. Gasping his name, you come apart in his arms.

Jungkook continues to fuck you, moving faster until he empties himself deep inside. His hips gradually slow, motions oddly gentle inside you. It is hard for you to focus on anything but his hands on your body, or his cock softening within. Lips lowering, he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck. With a sigh, Jungkook pulls himself out and tugs your skirt over your ass. When you look back at him, bending to pull up your panties – all you can do is stare. No one – no one – has ever made you feel like that before.

Jungkook’s hair is slightly sweaty, fastening the belt of his pants. He seems flushed, satisfied – but most people are after sex. “Fuck,” Jungkook groans, catching your gaze. “Y/N.”

There it is. The sound of your name sends you into a panic, because just the word on his lips makes you weak at the knees. Already, you find yourself wondering about the shy smile he sends. It seems so out of place, with the way he just fucked you – and therein, lies the danger. Swallowing hard, you remember you cannot know more about him. More importantly, he cannot know more about you.

It was a mistake coming to come here tonight. It was a mistake to kiss him like you did. You have fucked up, royally and now you do not know how to stop. What is worse, though – the part of all this which is truly irredeemable – is that you find you do not want to.

[Master List]

Author’s Note: thank you so much, to everyone who read and sent messages! Thank you for your responses, your kind words - I hope that Part II is equally as exciting :)

© kpopfanfictrash, 2017. Do not copy or repost without permission.

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[lady-of-rohan]

My sincere and honest thoughts regarding The Evil Within 2:

So, I'm finally sitting down and writing out ALL my thoughts on TEW2... at first, I was kind of nervous. After all, I mean so many people are going to love it, right? Well, to put things into perspective, @detective-joseph-oda and I literally returned the game. I've never taken back a game in my life.

It's been a difficult rollercoaster for me. TEW fandom is my everything... so, it's not like I'm leaving, or going to stop being mama or shipping or cosplaying or anything like that. I love this community and I want to contribute and continue to support my kids. I also would never want people to not play a game, or not get enjoyment out of it by voicing my opinions. A lot of people have asked me what I thought ... so here's my honest write-up, as someone who picked up TEW1 on its release date back in 2014 and has been in the fandom ever since.

MAJOR SPOILERS naturally.

Let's start out positive with things we actually liked:

Stefano! He was a super cool character, a total flamboyant psycho, and I adored all of the artsy, musical-inclined deaths with the slow-mo blood. That was really aesthetic, and really gorgeously done. Like, I couldn’t get enough of it.

Obscura is also amazing, though her moaning noises were a bit odd.

Anima (the singing enemy) was nicely done.And probably the scariest thing in the game.

The graphics are beautiful.

Gameplay controls are good.

Music is also nice.

Save kitty and Tatiana are back, which was a brief treat, but awesome ones.

Green gel and syringes are back (eyyy~).

Getting to walk around KCPD in Seb's old office.

The beginning fire sequence with Seb entering the house. GORGEOUSLY and amazingly done... it really built it up and started out strong... but then... well...

General things I sincerely disliked:

Firstly, the OPEN WORLD SEGMENTS. Ugh... this was the worst part of the game. Hands down. It was unnecessary, and not remotely horror at all. It was easy to see where this game drew influence from other games recently, and quite honestly , it didn't work for me. It was wicked distracting and out of place. This does not belong in this genre, making the game feel like it was torn in several different gameplay directions. It couldn't decide whether it wanted to be linear or open world. The tracker was annoying, and straight out of Silent Hill Shattered Memories which is certainly nothing new.

The game also sometimes flipped from third to first person. Very distracting. To be fair, I think a lot of this game mechanic confusion happened due to the following reason:

It's American horror transformation from Japanese horror. I won't lie, I'm a Shinji Mikami fangirl. I find him to be brilliant.  Always have... and I stopped liking Resident Evil as soon as 5 came out, and he left as director. TEW was supposed to be his love story to horror fans. Something he could leave us, as he described in one interview, that didn't suffer from "sequelitis." So you can imagine my true horror when I heard that Johanas was the new director.

The jump from American horror from Japanese is stark, and shattering if you're a big horror gamer like I am. Japanese horror isn't afraid to leave things up in the air or neatly explain everything. They often leave you confused, and often in high anxiety or suspense. They don't give straight answers.  In TEW2, though, nothing is really scary any more. It also relies HEAVILY upon mechanics, plot devices, and gameplay from other games... most notably The Last of Us but also Uncharted, Resident Evil 7, The Division, Outlast, SIlent Hill and SH Shattered Memories, Layers of Fear. Of which TEW was nothing like ANY of these. And yes, I know the new director, Johanas, is the same as the DLCs... but at least the DLCs provided some sincerely terrifying moments.

(side note: I was the most peeved that the ending of both TLOU and TEW2 is literally carrying your daughter or daughter figure in your arms... and that the emotional moments between them take place in a vehicle as they gaze at one another. Influenced much?).

Which brings me to... the main thing a survival-horror game should have. Horror.

This game is not scary. Nor was it difficult in any sense of the word. Unless you count... actually getting through it, which was very painful at times.

We honestly didn't die once during our 12-hour stream. This was absolutely disappointing. And confusing. Why wasn't this game more difficult? Sometimes I still die in the beginning sequence of TEW1. It's still terrifying as the Sadist comes at Seb, he injures his leg, and Seb limps for his life.

Furthermore, the utter sense of isolation, confusion, and abandonment is gone. In TEW1, you literally have no idea what the hell is going on, left in the dark figuratively and at times, literally. That's what makes it scary, aside from the hideous creatures out for blood. With so many Mobius NPCs, you always know a safe house, or a safe room, is well within running distance. It's so easy to use avoidant tactics and not fight much, rather than fighting for your life every few minutes.

Which leads us into...

The NPCs. I'm sorry, everyone was so cardboard and generic. Also boring in my opinion. Their interactions with Seb felt awkward and forced. I didn't give a damn about any of them ( @detective-joseph-oda, liked Sykes, which is fair because he had the most personality out of all of them). Again, the isolation and terror is gone. You have friends... and not just Kidman in your ear telling you what to do. Unlike the first game, where you were absolutely alone 90% of the time, with increased anxiety every time Joseph left your side and you were left to your own devices again.

On that note, this game provides way too much information as you work with Mobius. TEW1 left theories in the online community for months. No one knew what truly went on behind Beacon. It was fascinating to theorize about the character's fates. Mobius was just a terror in the distance, vaguely mentioned and yet their symbols were emblazoned on doors every so often leaving a sense of intrigue and mystery.  What was real and what wasn’t? Not something to worry about any more, as everyone directly explains everything to you, every step of the way. Even the DLCs added more information than answered questions, and the fandom was, well, for lack of a better word, shook.

The DLCs suddenly made Mobius, and Kidman,  Administrator, etc... the main focus. Suddenly, Beacon wasn't so spooky any more because they were tugging the strings. Which brings us to our next point...

The importance is suddenly almost entirely placed upon Kidman as a side character (she's the only other one you play as, after all).  I get it. People love Kidman. She’s a familiar face. This was obviously shifting this way in the DLCs. Not only was this Seb's story arc (unless you count the DLCs) but it felt out of place seeing as you only get to be her a few brief segments.  It seemed to me like the game wanted to neatly tie up BOTH of their character arcs in one game, rather than provide another Kidman DLC to see how things went down on her end again. It felt like a bit much going on.. not to mention Joseph was Seb’s actual partner and his focus in TEW1. More on that later. On that note, The Administrator was such a wasted opportunity. Instead of being a creepy monster influence like he once was inside of STEM, he just sits in his chair like a typical Bond Villain and has agents do his evil bidding. He sits back and "MWAHAHAS" rather than actively playing a part in the events around him.

And now we get into the nitty gritty, and the things I am most passionately outspoken about with this game.

Stefano is HARDLY in it, and the game has far too many antagonists. I was so disappointed to see Stefano ended by chapter 9 because he was the best part of the game. That's only halfway through that he makes it, and he is the character they used on all of their promotional material, and even their art contest. Super disappointing.

New Seb... isn't our Seb. He's down on his luck, sure, but he's almost at peace with it given his other behavior. We only really see that Seb is downtrodden because he's written in a bar at the beginning of the game and he has a beard of sorrow. Everything else leads to Seb seeming pretty high functioning and generally in better spirits. It almost feels like invasion of the body snatchers. His facial features are different (rendered to be more classically handsome, perhaps). He's suddenly more sassy, and infinitely more talkative, making him far from the near-silent protagonist he once was. Instead of playing his cards close to the vest, he wears his heart on the sleeve, often openly emotional. Which, given the contrast between he and Joseph in the first game, is not his usual style. Joseph was the "emotional" of the two. He also hardly swears or even says his token trade-marked 'FUCK.' You can't get through five minutes of the game without him making some kind of snappy, cheesy one-liner or talking to himself. It’s hard to take the game seriously as horror this time around.The obviously new voice actor for him, compared to Anson's experience, is also a rough transition.

Is it because he's after his child, who he thought was dead that he's so different? I dunno... I don't buy it. And speaking of, Lily's crying was some of the worst voice acting I've heard in a game in a very long time. I won't say much on her, other than I was severely disappointed by the overly-happy ending, neatly tied up in a package with a bow. TEW isn't The Last of Us. It was never a "father saves his daughter" game. It was horror. Lily and Myra were there for backstory only.This seemed like a money-making gimmick to me, given the popularity of such series that have gone the familial route, rather than sticking to their original genres (Uncharted for example). Family sells. Saving your family sells. Although I'm happy for Seb, I truly am... it's absolutely jarring to see the end of this game compared to the first.It’s almost alien.

The characterization, and dialogue writing... overall was bad. Especially between Seb and Myra (O'Neal, too).

Myra... well, again, I won't say much. I was very disappointed that she had a redemption arc, and that she wasn't out against Sebastian from the start as the DLCs perhaps hinted at. She was a good wife. A good person. Very clean for a horror game. It was an easy out. And her design was a direct rip off Ruvik and honestly really reaching. Shoutout to the fact that she looks like literal cum.

Finally, and here we go... the original story arc was about Ruvik. His pain, his motivations, his invention of STEM to bring Laura back. As far as we know, he's still out there inhabiting Leslie as a vessel. This... was just dropped in favor of a retconned Seb saves Lily story. Ruvik was so much more interesting. They could have at least given him a little bit of screen time. I really feel like they dropped the actual horror ball, shifting the focus from the mind of a madman, as the original game called it.. to a very Umbrella-esque organization. Seeing Seb face Leslie/Ruvik in the real world was a HUGE missed opportunity.

And last but certainly not least.. the fandom's beloved Joseph Oda. Going back to Kidman who was the Junior Detective, and not Sebastian's actual partner of 9 years like Joseph was, it just hurts to see him discarded. Yes, we got our confirmation that he's alive which is something the fandom has theorized for years. Johanas himself had left Joseph with a heartbeat in the DLCs, hinting at his state of life. But you also have to work for it. HARD. To even see this happy information flashed on your projection screen, you need every single photo slide and side quest finished. It isn't even remotely satisfying, and again, it's another tease. Kidman gives you an excuse and dodges questions about his whereabouts, or how he is, or if he's just a brain in a jar...

The ending hints that someone is now running STEM again as the Core. Is it Joseph? Who knows... DLC perhaps? If so I'm not sure I'm interested. Joseph may not be who he once was if he gets the same treatment of the other characters.

Going back to Seb's characterization, (I think @debussyj will agree with me on this) his partner for most of his detective career has been supposedly "dead" in his eyes for three years.  He was willing to believe Lily was alive again, but why not Joseph? The care that they showed for each other in the first game was so apparent. All shipping aside. They cared for each other so much and yes, Lily is his blood, but Joseph was part of his life far longer. And now Joseph is just a footnote in Seb's life, because he got his daughter back. Blood is thicker than water I guess, but boy Seb, that's no way to treat the man who helped you through your personal tragedy, as the DLCs went out of their way to mention, and the partner you came to work beside, admire and respect. This more than anything felt the most disappointing and OOC for me. It felt downright disrespectful, especially since Ruvik pointedly mocks Sebastian by using Joseph in the first game ("poor little Joseph") and Seb's motivations throughout the first game are first and foremost, helping his partner get through it, too. It's like the two almost never existed as partners.

The TLDR version; this game is not an actual horror game, is a far cry from its original genre, theme, and atmosphere... it uses a heavy reliance upon other popular games, the writing isn't good or consistent, the characters feel entirely different, and no, Joseph is not in it.

#tew2 #the evil within 2 #lady reviews #sebastian castellanos #psychobreak 2 #my tew posts

[captainofthefallen]

The Stars May Fade but the Sun Must Rise

Fandom: Pillars of Eternity 

Pairings: Edér/F!Watcher, slight Pallegina/Maneha 

 Written for the first @pillarspromptsweekly at the last possible second. 

When she wakes up, it's quiet. 

 That's the first thing she notices. The memories are still there, everything she remembered of the Inquisitor, of Thaos, of Iovara, but the unrest is gone. So are the voices. For the first time in months, she enjoys a blissful moment of complete silence. 

 She rolls over, stretching and blinking her eyes open to meet the concerned stare of Aloth. 

 He blinks, as though to make sure he's not imagining things, and his face splits into the biggest smile she's ever seen on him. “You're awake,” he breathes. “You're all right.” 

 She smiles back, then looks around. None of the others are in sight. “Is everyone…?” 

 “Everyone's fine,” he's quick to reassure her. “We've begun searching for a way out of here, and the only way we can seem to find is the way Thaos entered. Which, if you'll recall, he caved in behind him. We've begun to tunnel our way out.” 

 She raises an eyebrow. “How long have I been out?” 

 He frowns. “At least half a day at my estimation, though it's difficult to tell down here. We all agreed you needed the rest.” 

 She pushes herself up into a sitting position. “Thank you,” she says sincerely. “I...well, you were right.” 

 He eyes her cautiously. “Are you… all right, then?” 

 She nods slowly. “The voices have stopped. The memories are all there still, but she's… settled, I guess you could say. I don't think I'll go crazy.” She pauses, shrugging a shoulder. “Though you never know, I guess.” 

 He laughs with her for a moment before getting to his feet. “I should return to work. Everyone will want to know you're awake.” He lowers his voice. “I suspect Edér would have stayed at your side if we hadn't needed his help.” 

That… her smile grows a little, and she ducks her head, breaking eye contact. There is little doubt in her mind that Aloth knows, and that he's probably teasing her. 

 She gets to her feet beside him. “Lead the way, Corfiser.” He starts to protest, but she shakes her head. “The sooner we get out of here the sooner I get a hot bath and an actual bed. I'm helping.” 

 He seems to consider for a moment, inclines his head, and leads the way out of their makeshift camp and out to the tunnel. 

 Most of the others are there, except those few whose turn it is to sleep. Edér is the first to turn at the sound of Aloth’s approach. “Aloth’s back,” he says. “Whose turn is…” He doesn't get beyond that; he trails off into silence the moment he sets eyes on Mara. 

 There's a moment in which his mouth opens slightly and his eyes fill with more hope than she's ever seen there, and then he's grinning and running over to the pair of them, wrapping her in a hug and lifting her into the air. He laughs joyfully as he spins in a circle before setting her down again and pulling away to get a good look at her. 

 At last he nods, grin still stretched across his face like he can't help it. “You all right?” he asks at last, looking a little more serious. “Just you in there?” He taps the side of her head. 

She smiles. “Yeah. Well, she's still there, but the voices have stopped.” 

 His hand cups her face. “You sleep all right?” 

She nods. “Better than I have in months.” 

 “Good.” The smile is back, joyful and relieved and so…him. “That's real good.” And he hugs her again. He pulls away a few moments later, still smiling that beautiful smile, and she loves him, so much it almost hurts to keep it in, and--

Hiravias clears his throat, and they break apart completely. She coughs awkwardly, casting around for a change of topic. “How's this going?” She gestures at the tunnel. 

 “Could be worse.” Hiravias shrugs. “Between my druid skills and the people with muscles, we should be able to get through in a couple of days or so.” 

She nods. She'd hoped for sooner, but Thaos had been thorough in collapsing that thing. “Might as well get started then.” 

 It takes them three days. They're all exhausted, sore, and covered in a thick layer of dust, but they're alive, and they're in one piece, and that's more than any of them had expected when they took the plunge to Sun in Shadow. 

Hiravias is the first out, breaking through the last rocks with a druid spell, and Mara is close behind him. There's a gentle breeze rustling the trees where the delemgan reside, the night air cool and soothing on her skin. 

She looks up. Stars glitter overhead, just like they always have, but somehow everything seems… so much more beautiful. 

She feels a hand on her shoulder and tears her gaze away from the sky. “You all right?” Edér asks, and as she nods, she realizes that she's crying. 

She looks back up at the stars. “I thought I'd never see them again,” she says quietly. “It's…” She doesn't finish. 

He understands, though. He always understands. 

 They spend two days in the Celestial Sapling before departing. Well, she does, and a few of the others. Durance is gone when they all wake up the first morning, leaving nothing but unpleasant memories and the promise of vengeance. Sagani bids them farewell and leaves not long after that, eager to see her family after five years of separation. 

Mara thinks she's the only one who notices when Grieving Mother departs. It's less of a goodbye and more of a… feeling, passed from one cipher to another. Gratitude, repentance, hope. She's at peace, Mara thinks, and she's glad. 

The others stay. There's celebration, relief, the kind of understanding that only those who have faced death together can ever really reach. A tipsy Maneha kisses Pallegina in front of the whole tavern, and though he'll never admit to it, Mara is convinced that Aloth is the one who starts the round of applause. (Granted, Iselmyr is the more likely candidate, but they're getting along better and better these days. Maybe it's both.) 

They leave together, two days later, heading back for Caed Nua. For home. Zahua goes off on his own first, bowing to Mara and expressing his humblest thanks (and leaving some of his malcachoa stash with Edér). Pallegina and Maneha go next, making their way toward Defiance Bay--the paladin needs to face her actions, but she does so with her head held high and Maneha at her side. 

She's sorry to see them go, but Mara is happy for them. And she makes sure they know they're always welcome at Caed Nua. 

There's little fanfare upon their return, but Mara prefers it that way. She ended Waidwen’s Legacy, she returned the souls of Hollowborn children to their intended bodies, and no one knows but her and those around her. She'll keep it that way, if she can help it. Being the Watcher of Caed Nua is fame enough for her taste. 

The mercenaries stationed on the outer wall give a cheer as the party approaches, and they fall into their usual banter--they complain they're not being paid enough, Mara reminds them who killed the adra dragon and suggests maybe they should take their extra pay from her hoard in the Endless Paths, at which they retract their statement and thank her profusely for being such an excellent employer. 

The remaining party members quickly settle in at Brighthollow, reveling in the fact that there's enough space for everyone to take a room. 

In the morning, Hiravias leaves too. When he hugs Mara goodbye, she's startled to discover that he's bathed for the first time since she's known him. She sees him off with a wave of her hand and best wishes for getting through to his tribe. 

The Devil of Caroc stays, though in truth she seems more comfortable with the mercenaries than anything else. She's quickly accepted into their ranks, and they adapt to her morbid sense of humor remarkably quickly (Mara wonders half-jokingly if she should be concerned that the Devil is going to turn all her hirelings into expert assassins. The Devil laughs and doesn't deny it). 

Kana is the next to leave, citing the need to return to his people with his findings. As she sees him off, she doesn't doubt that he'll “accidentally” get sidetracked once or twice. 

And then Aloth and Edér are the only ones left, and it's bittersweet, because she knows Aloth is planning to leave soon to begin his self-appointed task, and surely Edér won't be far behind. 

She's by the fire in her room in Brighthollow when the moment comes. These days she tries to get as much sleep as possible, as if to make up for all she lost while they were chasing Thaos, but tonight she's up late, staring into the fire and wondering what the hell to do with herself when there's a light knock on her door.   

“Come in.” She already knows who it is. Edér doesn't knock that softly and no one else would have any reason to be in her room at this hour. 

Aloth enters, as quietly as he ever does anything, shutting the door softly behind him as he moves to sit beside her by the fire. They sit in silence for a while before she speaks. “Is it time?” 

He sighs deeply. “I'm afraid so. I fear if I don't depart soon I never will.” Another sigh. “I simply… wished to reiterate how much your friendship has meant to me. Since we met, I…” He bites his lip. “I'm not sure I've ever had… friends... before. Certainly no one I trusted enough to tell them about Iselmyr. And your support… it's meant the world to me.” 

She covers his hand with hers, squeezing gently. “I know having you at my back has saved my life more than once,” she begins. “And I just… well. I can't tell you to be safe, but at least be careful. And if you ever need refuge, somewhere to hide, or just somewhere safe where you know you can rest, please come back here. If you ever need any help, don't hesitate to ask.” 

He gives a bashful smile, nodding his head. “Thank you, Mara,” he says. He stands. “I should… go.” 

She stands with him, pulling him into a hug which he returns. “Good luck,” she says. 

And then he's gone. 

She's out early the next morning, walking the grounds of Caed Nua just before dawn. The mercenaries know better than to disturb her; this is her time. There is only one person whose interruption she welcomes, and he joins her just as the last of the stars have been obscured by the sun’s light. 

She's sitting on the edge of one of the bridges, feet dangling and swinging, just… watching. Watching and waiting, because she knows it's coming; now that Aloth is gone, it's only a matter of time. 

So she welcomes his presence even as she fears its meaning. But neither of them speak. They simply coexist in silence, as they've done so often over the months since they met. 

Finally she breaks the silence, eyes fixed on the water below. “You too?” 

He doesn't have to ask what she means. “Yeah,” he says after a long pause. “Was thinkin’ maybe I'd head back to Dyrford. They could use all the help they can get, I think. And,” he adds, looking sideways at her, “‘s not too far from Caed Nua.” 

Her heart skips a beat in spite of her. But much as she wants to beg him to stay… she can't. He needs this, and Dyrford needs him. 

“Write me at least, yeah?” She looks over at him as she speaks, meeting his eyes, and there's a warmth there that she wasn't expecting. A smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, and he reaches up to touch her face, tucking back a wayward piece of hair and trailing his fingertips down to her jaw. 

“‘Course,” he says, his eyes growing even warmer, letting his hand settle where her neck meets her shoulder. 

She's leaning forward before she can even register what she's doing, drawn in by that warmth in his eyes, and he meets her halfway, hand slipping upwards to cup her jaw once again as he kisses her. 

It's over all too soon, but he's smiling even more broadly now. “Guess maybe I'll have to visit more often than I planned,” he says with a wink. 

Despite knowing he's leaving, she takes comfort in his closeness, in the fact that he's not going far. As they stand together, her smile matches his own. 

He takes her hand, the lovers’ rings on their fingers clinking together gently. “You ever need me, just call,” he says. “I'll come runnin’.” 

“Likewise,” she manages. 

He wraps his arms around her, holding her close, and she hugs him back, trying to memorize this feeling. When he kisses her forehead and pulls away, it's like she can still feel him. 

They're both smiling when he walks away.

#claire writes things #pillars prompts weekly #pillars of eternity #watcher x Eder #endgame #i fixed it #i hope

[owlish-peacock36]

FallOutLander: The Divided Kingdom 2

Chapter 2

Angus led Claire through the courtyard and into the castle. It was as if stepping through time. Without electric lights of temperature control, fires raged in every corner glowing orange against the dank, gray stone. It was the most homey building she had stepped in since the Vault. It was obviously lived in, and obviously well maintained.

Angus stopped in front of an ornate door, golden filigree snaking its expanse. He turned to her.

“This is the Laird’s room.”

“And, what exactly, is a Laird?” She had never heard of such a title. Perhaps the term went further back than her history texts.

“He’s in charge. Like a lord, or duke.” He shrugged. “Perhaps he could be compared to a sheriff or mayor.”

“Ah.” Angus opened the door, motioning for her to enter.

The room was good sized, large windows lining the walls with natural light. It was old, obviously, just like the rest of the castle. Wallpaper was tearing from the walls, the curtains dusty and faded. But, it must have been a beautiful place long ago.

In the center of the room was a large desk, dark wooded and more modern than anything else in the room. The man behind it looked small in comparison. He was pale and wrinkled, his gray hair falling past his shoulders. He glanced toward them as they entered.

“Yes?” Claire felt herself shrink under his gaze, his eyes steely in attitude and color.

“This is Claire,” Angus explained. “She’s a doctor. Says she can help us.”

“Leave us.”

***

Claire fidgeted under his scrutiny. Without saying a word, he seemed to know her inside and out.

“Weel, Claire. My name is Colum MacKenzie. Laird, though I suppose ye knew that. What’s yer story then?”

“I’m… A traveller. I have skills. I would like to use them for good.”

“Where do ye come from?” Claire hated this question. Her answer always made people see her differently. People from Vaults are weak and stupid, they’d say. People from Vaults don’t know how the real world is, they’d say. Sometimes Claire would lie, say from some distant place by the sea. But, she felt as if he already knew her answer…

“From a Vault. I was a doctor there.” He raised his eyebrows in response, but not in surprise.

“And, ye think yer Vault learning can be useful here?”

“It hasn’t failed me yet.” The grin that spread across his lips looked so odd on his stern face.

“Weel, Doctor Claire. Yer in luck, it seems. Our doctor died recently. Old age. So, we need someone to take his place.”

“Sir, I don’t plan on staying for very–”

“Ye’ll stay and help. Or ye can leave straight away.” That was it. Her ultimatum.

She stayed seated.

***

In the hall, Claire was relieved of her bonds by Angus. Sawing through the rope, he spoke. “Yer lucky, I guess. Colum isn’t always sae kind.”

“Is that what you call it?” Claire mumbled, not meaning for him to hear.

“I wouldna be sae angry at a man that just saved ye.”

“Saved me? I would have been all right.” It was a lie, and they both knew it.

“Aye. Okay, Doctor. Come with me.”

He led her through the flame-lit corridors, the thump of their boots echoing through the walls.

“Where is everyone?”

“Either in bed or the kitchen. Kitchen’s to the right, by the way. In case ye need something.”

They winded through the halls of the castle, ending in the very back corner. This corner was the reserved for the ward, apparently. The ward was long and rectangular, at least 20 small cots lining the walls.

“Yer bedroom’s in the back.” Angus pointed to the back of the ward, to a door. “This is yer area. Any questions?”

“No, thank you.” Angus nodded his head, and left, leaving Claire alone to absorb her new situation.

***

The next three days passed uneventfully for Claire. A couple scrapes and bruises came through the ward, but nothing of note needed her attention. She kept to herself; sleeping, eating the food she put back, and mixing medicinals for future hypothetical patients. She saw no need to socialize. She was only here to work.

On the fourth day, Claire was becoming restless. In such a secure place, the inhabitants rarely needed tending. It was less work for Claire. Fewer activities to fill her time.

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” She turned toward the door where a young man was running through, panicked. “Are ye the new doctor?”

“Yes. Are you alright?” She stepped over to him, looking him over in the process. He seemed to be in perfect health. No blood stains. Nice color. Standing steady.

“Nay… it isn’t…me. It’s Jamie…ken?” He spoke slowly through labored breath. “They’re…bringing him in. Wanted to make sure….ye were here.”

“Breath, now. Where are they? What happened?” She was preparing, mentally and physically. She poured an alcohol solution on her hands, and began sanitizing.

“They’re coming. Should be close. Wanted me to run ahead to make sure ye were here. It was a Deathclaw. Ye’ve seen them, aye?”

Deathclaw. One of the largest, fiercest beasts in the Wasteland. Towering at 10 feet tall, it walked on its hind legs. It’s front legs were used for attack. The Deathclaw didn’t get its name randomly. Its claws were the length of a man’s arm. Claire had seen bodies in the Wasteland, sliced in half by these animals.

“Yes, yes. How? How did it happen?” Before the boy could speak, a group of five rushed in, carrying a man above their heads. “Set him down over there!”

She herself rushed to the man lying on the cot. Pale as death, the only color that remained on him was the dark red bloodstain on his shirt, and the dark red hair to match. She leaned over, placing her hands on his face. His eyes barely cracked.

“Jamie, is it?” He groaned in response. “Jamie, I’m Doctor Beauchamp. I’m going to take care of you.” She aimed her next question to the small man beside her. “What happened?”

“Damn beast snuck up on us outside the gate. Caught Jamie in the stomach.” The man seemed indifferent to the situation, but the tight line of his mouth and the shine of worry in his black eyes told her differently.

“I’ll do my best.”

Claire began lifting away Jamie’s shirt, revealing the wound. It was a wound she never wanted to see. A three inch wide gash spanned the length of his stomach. She could see the organs inside, pulsating pink. How he hadn’t died yet was a miracle.

But it was fatal.

She turned to the worried man. She knew he could see the regret and sadness shining in her eyes. He shook his head.

“No. No!” She pulled him aside, away from the dying man.

“It’s fatal. A stomach wound. There’s nothing I can do for him.”

Nothing she could do. Unless… Unless…

She left the man frozen as she ran to her medicinals. She hadn’t used this but three times, and never in a wound so serious. But, he was dying anyway. It was worth a try. “Turn him on his side!” The men did as they were bid. Claire bent down, rucking down Jamie’s trousers to reveal fleshy backside. She pulled the enormous syringe out of her belt, the metallic liquid thick and viscous.

She plunged it into his skin, and pushed.

He cried out. She rolled him back over on his back, and checked his wound.

She watched as, before her eyes, the muscle began knitting itself back together. Small threads of skin attached to each other, effectively closing the wound. His flesh grew pinker and pinker to a healthy shade, and his eyes popped open.

“Wha–”

“I call it a Direct Stimulation Package.” His eyes flew to her. They were blue, she noticed. “It’s my own creation. It’s a healing medicinal, almost instantaneous.” She felt all of the eyes on her then.

“I–I–Thank ye, Doctor.” Jamie spoke with sincerity. He melted in the cot, exhausted from the pain.

“It’s my job. But I would like you to stay here for a few days so I can monitor you.”

“Aye. So long as I can sleep.”

#outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #chapter 2 #fallout #FallOutLander