#i got this one done early but i won't be able to continue for another week or so 💦 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sdaomine · 11 months

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'til death do us part... or 'til i kill you first

Things take a sharp turn when Marius and Vyn discover each other's secret identities. Filing a divorce is on the table, but Vyn takes matters into his own hands—after all, he'd rather end the marriage here than in court.

A/N: Finally, FINALLY done with this fic that has long been rotting in my drafts! I've been wanting to write a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU for my favorite gay ship but lacked the time to actually finish it (but here we are!). I wrote this in 2022 but only concluded it today, AMIDST my many, many university backlogs <3 Anyway, I know some stuff here won't make sense but this is a self-indulgent fic so... yeah.

wc: 13.8k words.

Six years in.

Six years of a wonderful marriage. Six years of black tea and chocolate drink during early mornings. Six years of intoxicating kisses, sweet and zealous; six years of what the youngest von Hagen called the best fuck he’d ever get in his lifetime.

You see, when you marry the love of your life and spend wild, beautiful years with them, you start to think you are building your relationship’s mighty foundation—that sooner or later, the two of you would be able to finally lower those invisible walls which had always separated you, because admit it or not, there is no marriage built without deep, dark secrets.

But six years in and Marius von Hagen finds himself holding tightly onto his gun—a pretty sleek silencer he so cherished, a gift from his brother—his back pressed hard against the wall just beside the stairs, waiting.

“Hah—shit. Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his chest heavy, almost suffocating. Marius pressed one hand against his heart, feeling its erratic pace and, at this very moment, he was all but trying to calm his rapid breathing.

But then there was a quiet creak on the wooden stairs.

Marius’ eyes screwed shut. Fuck fuck fuck—

Marius threw himself to the side, hiding further beneath the wall, just in time—just in time before a series of raining bullets holed through the wooden wall and the staircase banister, which was soon followed by another round of rapid firing. Marius shook his head as he waited for it to stop.

With one arm protecting his head, Marius leaned slightly against the safer side of the house. Deep down he cursed and cursed the sheer agony of having to prop himself like that against the wall, right after he had dived into the floor like it was some massive pool of water. “Goddamn,” he cursed quietly, and however could he not? His once neatly painted Victorian walls that probably cost some other person’s soul were now ripped into shreds, the wood falling off, their deadly splinters scattered around. There were holes all over, both small and wide, and Marius took a little peek.

There he is.

Vyn Richter, Stellis’ most esteemed psychiatrist: well-mannered, elegant, so fucking pretty. Marius was in awe even when the doctor, who still wore his pearl, white coat, carried two massive rifles in both of his hands. Fucking assault rifles. Just where the fuck did you keep those in our fucking house, Vyn?

A sly smirk curved the doctor’s lips. Vyn caught a glimpse of his husband peeking through the small holes and asked, a little too seductively for Marius’ taste, “Darling, you are still alive?”

Dammit!

Vyn held back a scowl when he heard nothing. Marius used to surprise Vyn whenever he came home from work, so it was not impossible the young CEO had already switched hiding places. And so Vyn, as silently as he could, made his way down the stairs—

“Still am, baby.”

Vyn dived down the stairs instinctively, hissing out small, foreign curses as he landed—crashed—on the floor. He helped himself up with animalistic speed and grabbed his weapons, dashing towards the room opposite the wall where Marius continued to fire his silencer gun.

The doctor clutched his side and winced. Two minutes in and he already got himself a bruise.

“Stupid brat,” he muttered sharply as he reloaded his rifle. “Whatever crossed my mind? I should have killed him that fucking night.”

Two nights ago.

Vyn—in his white Mercedes—took a sharp turn round the bend of his English garden, leading out of the mansion gates. He was running, no, driving away from Marius. Why? Nothing much, really. Just that after six years of marriage Marius found out that aside from being a psychiatrist, his dear husband actually worked as an assassin. Learned that Vyn was a killer from another agency, which unfortunately for Marius was PAX’s worst rival with… well, dirty work.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Marius was an experienced killer, too, a secret even the best psychiatrist in the country must have somehow missed.

So… shit.

It was supposed to be a romantic dinner date. Vyn came home earlier than usual (he had to call off his assassination schedule that night) so he could cook his husband’s favorite dinner. The ever-so-loving Vyn Richter even lit candles on the table, did some last-minute flower arrangements, all so they’d have a good time (He even had half a mind to light candles and scatter rose petals across their bedroom, for a change). It had been a while since the last time he’d eaten a proper meal with Marius, anyway.

But there was something amiss, and Vyn was upset. Upset with the fact that he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Or what could possibly go wrong.

Although he was quite certain it involved his husband. And involved he was indeed because Marius was all but suspicious that whole evening, asking this and that, inquiries Vyn himself often utilized whenever he questioned a target or a client. And he wouldn’t have been a renowned psychiatrist if his husband’s dubious actions went unnoticed. Marius. I did not know he would be this daft.

Until the bottle of wine Marius was holding suddenly slipped from his grasp, and Vyn—who was seated, his back turned away, his attention wholly fixated on anything other than Marius and his wine—caught the bottle swiftly with one hand.

It was then he realized he’d made a grave mistake, because if anything his husband’s grip was always firm, and not in this life would Marius von Hagen let a million-stellin wine slip from his hands.

Marius let it slip on purpose.

And now Vyn drove his Mercedes the way a lunatic would their car, ramming on the trash bins and fences and even some of the patches of roses from his beloved garden, all to escape from his husband. Because apparently, his dirty secret’s out, and Marius is out to get him (perhaps).

The car screeched as he took a sharp turn, finally out from their mansion. Was he a free man, now? Not exactly—Marius von Hagen suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, running. Vyn muttered under his breath. Goddammit. He took the shortcut. I forgot about the shortcut—

A bang sounded, and the next thing Vyn knew, there was a crack on the windshield. The car halted abruptly.

Vyn scrutinized the crack. A bullet.

“Did…” he mused—hissed, rather—as his eyes trailed to where Marius was knelt on the ground, slowly helping himself up. “Did this bastard just try to shoot me?”

Marius almost flinched when Vyn, just a meter or two from him, slammed his hands on the car horn repeatedly. If it wasn’t his pretty little husband Marius would’ve just shot the car until the tires go off and the driver dead; but then again it was Vyn inside that car, and—

And the windshield… has a crack. And I have a gun. And I…

Marius swallowed. And he must’ve accidentally pulled the trigger when he hopped out of the bushes from the sidewalk and tripped. And now Vyn thinks he tried to shoot him.

“Baby, accident.” Marius now stood in front of the car, and the sight of his husband—who looked angry as hell—could be seen clearly from his line of vision. He hoisted both arms, the way a cornered, guilty criminal would, and repeated his words gently, “Baby, accident. Accident.”

Marius gestured to his gun. “I tripped. Accident,” he shouted. Marius didn’t really give a damn anymore whether or not the neighbors would hear him. “Baby, accident—no, stop!”

Marius inhaled sharply as he heard the engine rev—and it revved loud, as if a warning, more than enough to tell Marius if he didn’t step out of the way at that very moment Vyn would drag him to death by way of a hit and run.

And he did not hesitate.

“No, stop! Wait!” Marius waved his arms frantically, almost throwing away his gun just so he could show Vyn he wouldn’t dare hurt him. However it was his mistake that he pondered it at all, because Vyn Richter was the pettiest man alive, petty enough to actually hit the gas and hurl the vehicle towards Marius.

Oh, shit. Is this my end?

The car steered forward, its speed almost inescapable (for anyone in Marius’ situation). Marius gathered all his weight and lunged at the car, and Vyn then piloted the steering wheel in a rapid pace, left and right, in an attempt to haul his husband—probably ex-husband soon—out of the car, but to no avail. “Get off my fucking car!” he yelled irritably. “Marius von Hagen!”

Marius even managed to smirk as he held onto the side of the car (for dear life). “Stop the car—” he shouted back, his face almost hitting the windshield. “Vilhelm von Hagen!”

“Fuck you.”

“When?”

“Saturday, if I have not killed you yet by then.”

“Sweet.” Marius took advantage of Vyn getting carried away by their banter—Vyn could only hiss out in frustration as Marius broke the passenger seat window with the handle of his gun. It didn’t take long before he was halfway inside the vehicle, and Vyn was fumbling with his seatbelt.

But Marius was a second too late. The moment he’d gotten inside entirely, Vyn had already thrown himself out of the vehicle, and the Mercedes, along with Marius, was heading straight to the dark woods.

“Fuck you,” Vyn spat, still lying on the asphalt, catching his breath. He had wounds and scratches all over his skin—so much for all his skin routines—but that did not matter at the time. He fished out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

“Good evening,” he greeted rather blandly. “Yes. Please fetch me, and bring something sweet. I need my sugar levels to spiral.”

Present times.

And so they are here, trying to shoot one another’s head. Marius had initially come to gather his hidden weapons, only to find them gone. Vyn must’ve found out. The psychiatrist, on the other hand, returned home and got his guns ready. Heck, Marius even considered the great possibility of his husband setting up traps within the house.

Now we can tell who loves who more.

Yeah. That would be me, Marius would say. I love this sick fuck more than he loves me.

He peeked at the stairs. Marius caught Vyn claiming the opposite wall as his barricade, swore to god heard his muse wince at what could’ve been new bruises. He chewed on his lower lip as he crouched and stalked along the hallway with confident precision—he moved the way shadows would devour the night, utterly soundless as he coursed towards their dining area, which was also a connecting room to their massive kitchen.

To Vyn’s kitchen, his mind noted, almost like an instinct. His beloved had always been the one to cook all their meals, bake mouthwatering desserts and mix their cocktails and most times they’d end up hot that Vyn would find himself bent over the counter with Marius railing him from behind. Sometimes atop that long table, where Marius would feast on his husband the way he would his favorite meal; in return, Vyn knelt on the carpet under the table and sucked Marius’ hard cock until he moaned and screamed his name and squirted his cum on Vyn’s crystalline smooth face.

Marius was never in the kitchen, that sacred place. Sacred to his husband, at least, but when he did go there, it was always to admire Vyn while he prepped their meals.

He let out a bitter chuckle as he entered the dimmed space. Good old days.

Marius scanned the room, one he was most familiar with, before he proceeded to check under the table and chairs, ran his hands along the wall, removed the exquisitely-framed portraits hanging on them as a precaution. He knew Vyn couldn’t have been here for long; he wouldn’t have ample enough time to set up his baits within the house, but just in case.

He’d learned well not to underestimate Vyn. Vyn Richter, of all people.

Keeping his steady stance, Marius trod towards the high archway that led to the kitchen hall. He moved with a spy’s practiced grace and quiet, walking about the area as he quickly drafted a plan in his head. It was safer here, he thought, for almost little to no lights were switched on, and none of them would dare, since the lights could only be opened with two claps or a snap. Even without Marius’ careful movements, Vyn won’t be able to locate him that quickly. Especially since their house was a goddamn mansion.

No, screw that. A goddamn castle. If Vyn had not declined his husband’s initial offer with regard to housing, their residence would have looked like Buckingham Palace, except it was in Stellis.

Well great. How nice would it be to reminisce while your husband’s lurking in the same house, trying to kill you? Marius blew a sigh through his nose, frustrated. Couldn’t this be resolved with yet another delftware imported from France—

Marius went cold. “Fuck.”

He went cold because somehow, he’d forgotten that he didn’t really own this kitchen. That even though he’d been here a lot of times to fuck his husband on that table and over that counter, he wasn’t there enough to fully know and memorize each tile, each wall, each delftware that perched on display. Because somehow, Marius had focused on the possible threats that he’d missed the most unsuspecting yet lethal ones: Vyn’s decorative collection of teacups and teapots and plates.

And perhaps the odds were not in his favor tonight, because Marius accidentally bumped into one, and the teapot—even though he had caught it with his hand at first—proceeded to take its fall and break itself into hundreds of tiny shards. Marius stilled, his blood thrumming in alarm.

At first, there was silence. The eerie kind.

And then rained a series of bullets from the dining room entrance.

“Fuck fuck fuck—”

Marius dived into floor, clutching his silencer. He crawled swiftly under the long table until he reached the archway to the kitchen. He stood on his feet and snatched his other pistol from its belt holster, scanning the kitchen—a fucking enormous kitchen—for efficient shields, weapons, or if the heavens somehow favored him again, a possible way out. An escape from his deranged husband.

He’s too beautiful for someone demented, though.

He heard footsteps. Slow and steady, its familiar, elegant cadence enough a warning for Marius to keep his guard, his guns hoisted and at the ready. In one stride, he took refuge beside the fridge, the opposite side of it facing the entrance.

And then there was a distant, honeyed voice. “You dare break my delftware.”

“You fired because of a fucking teapot?” Marius sneered, but cackled all the same. “You’re crazy.”

“Your fault for marrying me.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

Vyn pulled the trigger and fired, the bullet merely grazing past the fridge. A warning. “I gathered. Seeing how you are out almost every other night, only to a foolish spouse will that go unnoticed,” Vyn uttered, his voice laced with venom—bitterness. “Tell me, darling. How many ladies have you fucked while you were gone?”

Marius resisted the urge to step out of his hiding spot and confront his husband head-on. “Fucking stop it, Vyn. Are you serious? This again?” he complained, the grip around his silencer tightening in his simmering anger. “I never cheated on you, godammit. I told you—I was out for business. How many times do I have to drill that into your head?”

“Ah, yes. Business. And what exactly is your business, Marius?”

Marius chuckled. “I could ask you the same, baby,” he said in his smoothest, sweetest voice, then strode out from his refuge, aiming his silencer at Vyn. In those few, shared seconds of conversation he’d noted where his husband stood, where he was facing, the appliances which surrounded them—Vyn won’t be able to duck anywhere, and could not possibly sprint too fast to shield himself from Marius’ attack.

But then again—he shouldn’t have underestimated.

Because when he’d stepped out, Vyn was not there.

He was already behind him.

“Shit—”

He did the most possible, most horrible thing he could think of: as he swiveled round to Vyn’s direction, Marius hooked his fingers under the fridge’s recessed handle, pulled it open, then slammed its massive steal door against Vyn.

“Scheisse.” The fridge door rammed against him face-first—Vyn’s nose throbbed with a nasty pain, and he sensed hot liquid leaking from it, tasted the coppery tang of blood when it drifted further into his mouth. “Fucking. Swine.”

He knew the fridge door would be a serviceable shield, knew the bullets he’d fire would protect Marius no matter what and doing so would only be a disadvantage. However Vyn blasted back that instinct, that knowledge, and proceeded to rain yet another series of bullets towards Marius (or the fridge, actually), all because of sheer aggravation. How dare he slam that door into his face—was he not his muse, his darling? Was he not this ethereal man Marius had always drawn and sketched and painted on his canvases for he wished to preserve his beauty?

Goddammit—the curse looped inside Vyn’s head, his nose flaring with rage. His nose fucking hurt.

And Vyn screamed along his firing, both weapons aimed toward the fridge. The kitchen was dimmed, with no lights on and so all he could see were the blazing yellows and oranges and reds, could only hear the all-too-familiar bangs and booms as the shots blasted through the metal.

He stopped attacking. Vyn wept the blood from his face with the sleeve of his once immaculate, white coat, wincing as he did. His nose stung so much and it rendered him so very, very furious. “Marius von Hagen,” he said. Hissed.

A low chuckle. “Vilhelm von Hagen. Or would your surname be back to Richter now?”

And there was silence, utter silence, before Vyn’s life flashed before his eyes.

The psychiatrist could only slide back as the fridge—which was a whole lot bigger than him in all aspects possible, completely towering over him—started slanting from above and down to crush him. It was too swift that he could only clumsily stumble back, almost slipping on the tiles and making a fool out of himself.

Marius heard Vyn curse in a vague, foreign language—German, no, Svartian, probably—as he scurried to save himself and dodge his husband’s pretty little trick. Actually, screw that, Marius thought. Pushing this goddamn fridge might very well be his disadvantage: one, it was too heavy it took a lot of effort and energy, and two—the kitchen was a spacious room and he threw his only barricade away.

No matter. He will just have to remedy that, in whatever way he can.

Like taking advantage of his disoriented, recuperating rose by means of taking their electric stove and throwing it in Vyn’s direction.

He’d turned away before that stove hit his husband.

No. He didn’t want to see that.

Didn’t want to see his husband hurt.

He released a sharp breath and looked skyward, then blinked his eyes repeatedly, well-aware of the stinging tears threatening to flow. He ran to the exit all the same, his only goal to escape—he didn’t wish a violent shoot-out with his love, inside their home, no less, but he needed to return the act lest he got killed.

All this—the thought of killing Vyn would kill Marius just the same, anyway.

Heh. He didn’t seem to hesitate shooting me, was what roved in his mind as he made his quick escape. God. That hurt. That fucking hurts.

And he was now well on his way out, finally, with only a step before the archway when Marius peered over his shoulder—then regretted it shortly after.

A kitchen knife had grazed past his ear, the tip of its blade hitting the wall with a dull, slicing thud.

Marius stood there for a while, utterly shocked. Vyn hurled the blade too skillfully that blood trickled down his ear—only a slight brush with the knife, truly, and there was only a minor sting—and Marius recalled it again and again, the way that knife went past him so swiftly, almost like a soft winter’s breeze.

Maybe he deserved it. He’d broken not only Vyn’s delftware but his nose, too.

“Just to remind you, my darling.” Vyn stood steady far across him, his gun hanging by his side, his other arm still held forth after throwing the knife like a sports dart. He was bleeding, his nose and his arm, yet his poise was much like a prince’s, still, as if he hadn’t partaken in this chaos of an indoor shoot-out.

Oh and despite himself, Marius swooned when Vyn had addressed him darling.

“That you destroyed my fridge.” He leveled his gun, his aim at Marius’ direction. “And inside that fridge were all the pastries I had worked so hard for this goddamn week—more particularly that matcha cake.”

Ah, Marius thought, almost nodding unconsciously. I’m thoroughly fucked, then.

The psychiatrist fired another time, only once, but close enough to shoot off Marius’ ear.

Thoroughly, completely, perfectly fucked.

If that bullet blasted a few inches down Marius was sure he’d only have one serviceable ear left. Fuck it. Vyn’s aim was as good as his so thank the heavens the odds somehow favored him tonight because if they didn’t, his head would be pounding with a static burn at this very moment for he got his ear blown off to oblivion.

Marius sprinted. Not out, because the hallway was narrow and with how accurate Vyn’s aim is, he was certain he’d get shot at some point. So instead he darted to the side at lightspeed. “Goddammit, Vyn!” he shouted as Vyn fired constantly, following his every stride; thank goodness there were no kitchen lights and Vyn couldn’t see clearly even with those ugly glasses. “You’re really going to blow off my ear? How am I to hear your needy moans then?”

“You will not hear them again.”

“Not of pleasure,” said Marius as he slid behind the mid counter, hiding away from Vyn. He tugged open the small cabinet and swiftly made a slice on the gas hose before he slithered away like a madman and out to the archway. It would be nasty with that leaking gas and Vyn’s shotgun.

Wow, thank god we weren’t all into electric shit.

When Vyn fired, the kitchen exploded in flames.

Vyn threw himself back, and he crashed into the wooden floor, breaking his glasses in the process. Every part of him ached, and his head pounded; his vision was obscured without his glasses, the narrow hallway a distant horizon he was not sure he’d reach because he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—

His thighs burned, a hot, searing pain pulsating within his loins, and it was only then that he realized he was on fire. Like it was his second nature the doctor halted thrashing and crawled to the nearest open space, that area near the archway, and rolled himself across, exhausting the flames on his person.

He wouldn’t dare glance at his burns. He couldn’t stomach them for sure.

Not because they were gruesome, no, but because he cared greatly for his vanity, and now his efforts had been all in vain. So much for face and body value.

He snatched his gun, then, and hastened out of the burning kitchen and into the dining area.

Vyn didn’t mind the burn, the throbbing, the pain that wished to devour him. Not when his adrenaline was spiraling and begging to be put to fucking use. His instinct—an assassin’s or a husband’s, he couldn’t discern—led him out and around the lobby, up the stairs, to that one, distinctive chamber his husband treasured most.

The Atelier.

The memories rushed in with each step, every soundless stride. He’d designed that room with Marius, had decorated it day and night with him. Had baked cookies and delivered them there, so Marius would have something to eat as he worked on his new opuses; had stayed by his side as he recounted stories with his paint.

Had taken off his silken robe as he perched on the chaise, naked, looking so ethereal as Marius painted him, brought his beauty to canvas.

The reward? Marius had fucked him silly all through the night, on that very same couch.

Vyn took deep breaths. He acknowledged those memories, accepted them. Then locked them all away.

He hoisted his gun, and tiptoed close, closer. No signs told him Marius was inside, but Vyn steered forward, trusting his gut as it churned at his intuition—he is here. I do not know why, but I know he is here.

He ticked that box with a check.

As he entered the room a silencer shot, hitting just behind him. Marius stood by the opened windows, his weapon in hand; a thick cable wrapped around the atelier’s metal handle and it fell outside, down to Vyn’s precious garden. He was escaping.

“Heh.” Vyn aimed his gun at Marius, the smirk on his face menacing. “Planning for escape?”

Marius threw him an annoyed glance. “You put the house on a fucking lockdown.”

Vyn shrugged his shoulders. “You were able to open that window,” he said. “Whatever happened to the alarms?”

“Switched them off first.”

“And the window?” No one was supposed to open any part of the house when it is on lockdown.

“I know shit on this house that you don’t know of.”

“Ah. Well, that does not matter.” Vyn trod forward, careful. The weapons were still aimed at one another as he neared a small, circular table where Marius’ rarest pigments sat in glass bell jars. “What matters is… oh, look. These are your pigments.”

“Vyn.”

“Such rare pigments,” mused Vyn, eyeing the expensive, imported, rare set of paints atop the table.

Marius took a cautionary step forward. His hand reached towards his husband, the gesture as if attempting to halt whatever deranged thing Vyn framed out to do. “Vyn—”

“Imported from Italy, yes?” The older man trailed, his finger brushing against the glass. “Ah. And this one was from our Grand Tour—France, if I remember correctly. From Louvre.”

“Don’t shoot it.” Marius’ voice shook. “Don’t fucking shoot it.”

Vyn stopped. He chuckled—then looked up at Marius. “All right,” he said with an innocent smile, “I won’t.”

Then struck the table’s legs so it tumbled down, onto the floor, the special paints now mere, vibrant stains that tarnished the wooden tiles.

Vyn sneered at Marius. “Screw you.”

And proceeded to fire not to his husband, but everything inside the atelier: the canvases, both empty and brimming with colors, the vases and the chairs and stools, the portraits on the wall, the unfinished sketches and all the works in progress—the Seti Falls among other brilliant landscapes of their travels in Skadi, in and around Stellis, all the way to Europe.

Marius seethed, and one may even argue he was about to breathe out flames. “You fucking fiend—”

Vyn halted his advances when his aim pointed to an unfinished portrait of him.

Gods, he looked beautiful in it. Like the image of a prince, one of which a hopeful maiden would see only in the fairytales she reads, wondering if she’d ever snag a man as handsome as him. His lips were curved into a half-smile, all so lucious, and Vyn felt that familiar, rancid guilt tug at him—only a little, he wanted to deny it—as he wondered the many hours Marius had worked to capture him as beautifully as he could. Not that it was a hard task, for Vyn had always been a most spectacular muse, but still…

He lowered his gun and spared that portrait from his rage—saved himself from his own, unfettered violence.

But soon enough, Dr. Richter would realize that only portrait Vyn had been granted salvation.

Vyn nonchalantly aimed at his husband another time, did not hesitate, even a sliver, as he pulled the trigger toward Marius. But Marius dodged and rolled to his back, deftly until he tumbled against the wall under the window, and with a terrifyingly calm expression poised himself to kneel on the tiles.

Vyn reloaded his gun. “What are you doing, kneeling there?” he seethed. “Have you given up, darling?”

“No,” said Marius, a chuckle rumbling down his body. His amethyst eyes had darkened, and Vyn tensed, feeling gooseflesh all over his skin as Marius took something out of his person—a hand grenade.

“You know what,” the young von Hagen began, his voice low and cold, “I shouldn’t have tended your garden during the days you weren’t here.”

“You are to stop this instant.”

“What do you say? Fuck off and say adiós to your precious little garden.” It only took a split of a second as Marius pulled the pin with his mouth, and tossed it behind him, the grenade hurtling over his husband’s precious sanctuary of roses and lilies.

Only a split second before Vyn Richter’s garden exploded into a thousand, splendid fireworks.

And if it weren’t for his unmitigated, passionate fury thrumming with each breath, each step, and every thunder of his heart transcending over the harrowing, golden flames burning in the dead of night, of which singed the beloved flowers he’d tended to for years, Vyn would’ve fallen to his knees onto the wooden tiles, and cried his heart out in heavy grief.

But Vyn stood there, not moving an inch, as he watched the scorching fire. The flares flickered in his eyes, round and round the deepest trenches of those golden hues, until all he could see and feel was…

Well, nothing. As if unbothered.

However his mind, his brilliant mind toiled clearly—too vivid, the thoughts smooth-sailing in his ocean of schemes.

“Dieser verdammte Marius,” he muttered—that goddamn Marius—as he strode near the doorway, opened an emergency cabinet, and pulled the heavy, metal handle, activating the manor’s fire sprinklers.

Wet chemicals erupted from the ceilings, all over the house. Vyn navigated the halls and the rooms with precision, checking the bedroom, the lounge, the bar, in a search for a certain von Hagen.

He hoisted his gun as he trod to each chamber, each corridor. Vyn went down the stairs and proceeded, with much caution, to the main living room—

When a click sounded behind him.

“Let’s stop this now, Vyn,” Marius said quietly as he drew closer, his silencer only a meter or two away from his husband’s back.

“Unlock the house, and we can separate in peace—”

Vyn swung around, pivoting on his heel, and knocked Marius’ weapon out of his grasp.

Marius stumbled to the side, but maintained his balance almost as instantly. “What the—”

“You are naive to think that after all this, I would let you out.” Now it was his time to brandish his gun, leveling the weapon slowly to Marius, who now had both hands raised in surrender. He was on the farthest corner of the room, trapped; his only escape was the very path Vyn stood on, getting in his way out, deliberately so. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

“Your loving husband.”

Vyn’s brow raised, and his features scrunched into disdain. “I would not say that—”

He was cut off by Marius pouncing onto him with all his weight, Marius’ hands wrapped around his own, restricting him and the gun. And before Vyn could even try to get away Marius sent him to the ground—Marius had forcefully slid his leg against Vyn’s, and when his husband lost his balance, the two of them plunged into the floor.

At the impact, Vyn’s grip loosened, and Marius kicked the gun away from them as he helped himself up.

Oh, zounds. Why did I kick it away? I should’ve taken it—

A flower vase came hurtling toward him, and Marius shielded his face from the glass, letting it break into tiny shards as it fell to the floor. And his jaw might’ve been broken, too, for Vyn had suddenly appeared in front of him, and threw Marius the best jaw-breaking punch he had ever received.

“Fuck—”

It was painful, to be sure, but he had no time for such. He caught Vyn rushing to the doorway.

What’s he doing?

Marius’ face scrunched and he winced, the pain in his jaw utterly excruciating.

Oh.

Fuck.

He’s going for the gun.

“No way in hell.”

Marius the nearest object he could find—a mini coffee table—and hurled it in Vyn’s direction.

He stood on his feet and sprinted to the doorway. The table had hit Vyn’s torso, the impact heavy on his waist, and he dropped to the floor, groaning in pain.

But before Marius could reach for the gun himself, Vyn held him by the leg.

He landed face-forward. His arms, thank goodness, saved him from rendering his handsome face wretched. Marius rolled onto his back, only for Vyn to lunge at him.

Vyn first threw a punch to his jaw yet again, but Marius caught his wrists. With a mighty force Marius was able to toss Vyn to the side—he was the stronger one, after all—and Vyn ended up with his back against the couch.

Vyn was still recuperating when Marius came to wrap his hands around Vyn’s neck, restricting his breathing. His hands went instinctively around Marius’, punching and pulling and desperate to get away. At last Vyn gathered enough strength to move away from the chaise and to the side, bringing Marius with him; Marius who, despite his strength, admitted to struggling with Vyn’s futile attempts to escape.

But the next thing Marius knew, he was throwing his husband across the room.

Vyn flew directly to the massive grandfather’s clock, the glass shattering and raining over him.

Blood now stained the doctor’s face, his body. But at that very minute he wouldn’t feel any wound, any injury. Just the unfaltering will to fight to death with his husband.

He felt betrayed.

He was scared. He was so scared he would lose him—to a woman, to PAX, to this. Add the five consecutive nights he’d prepared dinner for them and Marius never came home.

He’d rather end the marriage here than in court.

Marius dashed towards him, ready to pounce. Vyn caught sight of the expensive wine bottles on the table beside him.

And so he snatched two of the wine bottles and smashed them on either side of Marius’ head. The bottles crashed, and Marius bellowed in pain. Crimson leaked in his skin, his clothes—was it the wine? His blood? Vyn swallowed as took in the sight of his husband, hands on his head, moaning in deep pain; he looked away immediately and strode out from Marius’ reach.

Marius chuckled. “Of course you’ll go for the gun.”

“Do you not think it the easiest way out?” Vyn merely said, his voice higher, obviously vexed. Yet the way he spat those words was honeyed, still. “I shoot you, I win.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Marius staggered, but pressed onward. “Then you’re not getting that gun.”

In quick strides Marius threw himself at Vyn, but the older man rolled himself easily over the couch. Marius pushed the chaise to the side with one swift move, and only the oval glass-lined coffee table separated them.

Like that table’s gonna do shit.

And it all began with footwork. In his fighting stance, Marius assessed his husband, the two of them circling around the table slowly, vigilantly. Waiting for the other to hint at their weakness, to give away their hidden cards—neither knew the other’s tricks, having only found out their secret careers this evening.

But goddammit, Marius cursed inwardly as he observed his muse with that perfect sparring form, however his bearing elegant, still. The lock of his shoulders, the way his forearms were bent to his elbows, his knees curved just right; that determined face, his brimming confidence—goddammit, goddammit, goddammit.

Perfect.

He’s perfect.

I love him.

“Well fuck me. You always made me carry your heavy stuff, but now you look like you’re ready to carry me to my grave.”

Vyn smirked—then pushed the table with his foot.

The force was too strong that Marius knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it on his own, and that he’d only hurt whatever part of him that met the table’s edge. The table slid forward, launching straight at Marius, and all he could do was leap on top of the table.

It was small, that table. Marius lost his balance and fell face-forward to the marble tiles.

“Fuck it,” he groaned, his elbows stinging. “I fucking hate you—”

Vyn gripped his shoulder and swung him around, his back now on the floor. “Hello, my love,” he purred as he pinned both Marius’ hands atop his head, then straddled him. “Do you like this?”

Marius smirked. “You on top? Hell yeah.”

Vyn’s fist went flying to his face.

“FUCK—” Marius groaned, his nose stinging. He could almost taste the metallic tang of blood. “I can’t believe you ordered me to carry your shit around when you can punch this hard.”

“You betrayed me.” Vyn landed another punch. “You are a liar! You lied to me!”

“Look who’s fucking talking!”

“Go to hell.”

With his weakening grip on Marius, the young von Hagen was able to snatch his arms and finally turn the goddamn tables. He wrapped his legs around Vyn’s torso and flung themselves to the side.

Vyn gasped. Marius now sat on top of him, towering over him. His grip on Vyn’s wrists was too tight they could’ve been red with the mark of his fingers, or a nasty purple because of bruising—god, they could’ve been a pale blue for that grip might as well halt the blood from coursing through.

“Now, now, sweetheart.” Marius pinned his lover’s wrists on the floor. He noted the slightly frantic tussling, Vyn’s… sexy labored breathing. “I think I like this better,” he whispered. “Me on top of you.”

And Vyn could only gasp as Marius grappled his throat. Not to kill him—to weaken him, somehow. To make him lose consciousness. And then he’ll decide from there.

“Hck—” Vyn’s choking filled his ears and, even when he wanted to, he couldn’t look away. “M-Marius—”

Stop it. You’re hurting him.

His grip did not weaken.

“Hck… P-Please—”

Don’t say it. Don’t.

Say it. Vyn hurt you. You’re just returning the favor.

I can’t...

“Look at you. I love choking you like this,” Marius spat, his eyes dark and wicked. I’m going to hell for this—I’m sure of it. “If only this were a different circumstance.”

He caught Vyn’s arm flailing to his sides, and Marius wondered why he’d suddenly stopped grasping the hands that throttled him—until Vyn seized something and smashed it to his head, sending him backward.

A lampshade this time. From yet another small desk drawer just beside them.

Well, Marius thought. I should’ve seen that coming.

Vyn was, however, still frail from Marius’ attempt to strangle him. His breathing was strained, his face breaking out in cold sweat.

And hot tears rolled down his pale, bloodied cheeks.

However his adrenaline pumped again, and again, and even when his head pounded a fire burned from within, and he tried to go on all fours, a futile attempt to stand.

Marius now stood, albeit unsteadily due to the impact of the lampshade on his temple. “Come on, honey,” he managed to say despite himself, imitating a sparring stance, “come to daddy.”

Vyn inhaled a sharp breath.

He turned on his back, then, and used all his remaining strength to kick his husband’s groin.

“Fucking fiend—” Marius moaned in agony as he fell to his knees.

“Heh,” Vyn chuckled darkly. “Who’s your daddy now?”

“Ahahaha,” Marius managed a laugh. For some reason, it did not sound even the least sarcastic. In fact, it sounded so… genuine. “That’d still be me, Vyn,” he breathed, “still me.”

Then he rolled to the side, Vyn the other way around.

When they got up to their feet, nimble as men who were yet to be injured and beaten up, Vyn and Marius found themselves in a rather precarious situation:

Their guns on each other’s heads.

Blood coated their faces. Some trickled down, some already dried from earlier’s violence, the crimson-brown marking their skin as if pinpointing just where they had tried to inflict pain on one another. Desperate breaths filled the thrashed room, heaving in attempts to ease the thumping hearts, seemingly beating for something other than the desire to kill—perhaps beating for love, still.

The room had now quieted. No more crashing and shattering and heavy thuds brought about by relentless kicking and punching and hurling. The once catastrophic space was now but a peaceful one, at least in terms of sound and every other external force of nature.

“Let us end this here.”

Vyn’s tone never wavered. It was still as honeyed, elegant. But neither had the strength to actually ask, is that what you really want?

“Baby.”

“Stop,” he said, or rather breathed, as if Vyn had drained all capacity to speak, and Marius almost didn’t hear it, but he did. He always did. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Okay.” Marius nodded. His gaze remained fixated on Vyn, who so determinedly held out his gun, although Marius wondered why his finger was a little far off from the trigger. He took that as a good sign—something to hold onto. “So,” he began, his silencer still aimed towards his husband, “what now?”

I do not know, he had the urge to say. But he wouldn’t say it. Not in this life.

“Are we to stay like this the entire night, Vyn?”

“No, of course not.”

“Should I worry now?”

“As you should.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

Vyn’s eyes snapped to him, meeting those eyes of dark amethyst, and Vyn realized he hadn’t been looking at Marius this whole time, only to a random part of his face so it would seem like he was strong enough to take this head-on. But when their eyes met he felt his breath catch, and gods did Vyn want to whip everything back in time just so this didn’t happen. Just so he would have him back.

It is still him, he told himself. This youthful man, so willingly returning his gaze even though Vyn bore some brutal promise, always the man who could see him, who chooses to see through him and accepts what sought refuge beneath the facade—still Marius.

My Marius.

Vyn gasped, more loudly than he’d intended, when the silencer dropped to the floor.

His line of sight panned up to Marius. “What are you doing?” he hissed with unmistakable, rising fury. “Pick it up.”

Marius raised his arms, slowly, in surrender. “I don’t want to.”

“Pick up the gun.”

“I can’t.”

He inhaled sharply that the air could cut his throat, which was painfully drying, his heartbeat starting to race another time as he attempted to persuade him, “Pick it up, Marius! Pick the fucking gun—”

“No,” Marius said, shaking his head in regret.

“FIGHT. FAIR. THIS IS NOT FAIR.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Believe me.”

He was pleading, and Vyn knew that. Not pleading for his life, but pleading his love.

Until Vyn asked, “Why did you do it?”

His eyes lit up. It didn’t matter whether Vyn would accept his answer, he didn’t even care if he would believe him, but he was so damn happy Vyn was at least interested to know. And he deserved the truth—he ought to grant his husband that.

“I’m…” He breathed in, his line of sight entirely on the floor, trying to find the perfect explanation. “I don’t know. I guess I just love—”

“Killing other people?”

He looked up at Vyn. “Bloodlust—that’s it, yeah?”

Vyn scoffed. “Bloodlust. Are you kidding me?”

“I had killed someone for Giann. Accidentally,” he began, “an act of self-defense, to save myself and him. He was drugged and unconscious and we were alone, and we were kids.

“And I felt like a different person, you know? Stabbing that man to death. Torturing him until he begged that I end his suffering. Instead I got a blunt knife…” He trailed, his voice now dripping with that familiar longing, that familiar tone of satisfaction Vyn so knew about him, “started carving the family insignia deep into his skin while I listened to his pleas, his screaming, and watched the way his blood leaked from his cuts…

“It was, to say the least, a feast to my senses.” Marius chuckled, his voice dark, almost evil. As if Vyn’s kind, youthful husband had gone, had turned into someone unspeakable, someone he didn’t know. Or perhaps, a Marius he has yet to meet. “That was when I realized I let another me live within. He’s someone who loved drawing blood, someone who craved for violence. All of this, Vyn—I do it all for fun. I couldn’t get it out of my system. So, yeah.”

“You could have told me,” whispered Vyn. Marius wanted to believe he saw those golden irises soften, even only for a passing beat. “You could have trusted me.”

“I trust you, baby. But no,” he said resolutely, “I love you, so damn much, and I wanted to be perfect for you.”

Marius took a step forward. Vyn’s grasp tightened around the gun.

But Marius pressed forth. Arms falling heavy on either side he took yet another step, his mouth curving on a slight, sad smile as he walked closer, and closer, dangerously closer to the beautiful man who carried such a hideous promise.

“I want to be the perfect man…” Marius halted, just a few breaths away from the gun aimed directly at him. He crouched a little, leaned forward—

Vyn gasped. His whole body tremored, a sudden chill running all over his skin.

Marius wrapped his long fingers around the gun’s barrel, tugging it towards himself, pressing his chest against the hot muzzle. “The perfect husband for you.”

He observed as Vyn continued to nibble on his lower lip, biting it hard that it reddened with the threat of blood, and Marius’ chest tightened as he saw those golden hues now glossy with emerging tears. Vyn’s breathing had gone from composed to ragged, and soon the hand which held the gun started to shake.

“Vyn,” his husband called softly, “I love you, okay?”

He was surprised to feel hot tears filling his eyes, a stray of it rolling past his bloodied cheek. “Marius…”

“Vyn?”

“I…” he paused, grasping for words, suddenly losing all the vigor to fight. His heart shattered at this, at everything—at himself for being such a petty husband who never truly gave Marius the chance to prove himself, all because of some missed dinners. Who never gave Marius the benefit of the doubt even when Vyn saw in his eyes a flicker of hope.

He was so lost swimming in his ocean of thoughts that he never noticed Marius, who started easing away the gun ever so calmly, and Vyn—exhausted and drained out of his wits—allowed him his weapon to make its descent, down until he himself decided to drop it to the floor.

And he seemed to be in a daze indeed as Marius pressing closer to him went unnoticed, until Vyn realized, only after almost a minute, that Marius had gotten their bodies closer, almost skin to skin…

Marius knew he was quite awake now—from all his little reveries—and while he expected Vyn to land another blow or finish him once and for all, he was surprised when his husband’s gaze flitted from his lips before it settled up to his eyes, his pale, slender hands sliding to his chest as he whispered, “I love you too, Marius.”

Then Vyn was pushed onto the couch.

The doctor gasped, too surprised that it was a pitch higher than usual, and for a moment he was afraid that Marius had gotten the upper hand with his trick and now he ought to strangle him, but his gut believed otherwise, and his gut turned out to be right because Marius leaned down to kiss him—rough and wet, hungry as his tongue lapped in his mouth, a quiet sentiment of how Marius would rather kiss and touch and fuck him instead of sending blazing bullets all over their house.

“Mm—oh, Marius…” he whined as Marius pressed against him, almost straddling him, his hands relishing the softness of Vyn’s face and disregarding the feel of dried blood there, and now making their way towards the back of Vyn’s head, fingers brushing, tangling, pulling on those silver locks.

He felt his pants tighten at the sound of Vyn’s moans, and he grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged his head back, suddenly feeling the lust of tasting Vyn’s exposed neck. Marius leaned down, his mouth pressed against his neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along soft skin, tasting blood and hot sweat. He bit lightly at the hollow of his shoulder—

“Ah!” Vyn cried in perhaps both pleasure and pain, his fingers clutching desperately on Marius’ sleeves—sleeves that were rolled all the way up near his elbows and it was so sexy Vyn almost wanted to wave the white flag, in the middle of their shoot-out, just so he could fuck him. So he could kiss him, kneel in front of him, fulfilling his husbandly duty of sucking his cock. “Marius…”

“We literally just started,” Marius said as he looked up to meet Vyn’s eyes, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

“Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m about to.”

“Well why don’t you get on with it? Or would you rather waste my—oh, fuck—Marius!”

Vyn could only screw his eyes shut, and Marius could only let out a satisfied groan as he ground his hips against Vyn’s, biting his lip as he felt that hard erection, the proof of his husband’s growing need and oh, how he’d love to satisfy him. “What was that?”

“Will you ever stop talking—”

Marius shut him up with another kiss on the mouth. Vyn tasted sweet, as usual, however Marius made out the metallic flavor of blood, but it’s not like he would mind. It’s his husband’s blood, anyway, and he’d be most willing to take a sip of it, drink it, chug it until it sank down his throat the way he would his chocolate drink.

Ah, but Marius loved it more when it was Vyn who did that with his cum.

As he kissed Vyn he continued moving, grinding his hips until all he could hear were the melodies of Vyn’s whines and sighs, and gods was he so distracted Marius failed to notice Vyn already taking the matter into his own hands unbuttoning Marius’ shirt, and with fervent speed at that.

He suppressed a laugh as he bowed his head, watching in awe as Vyn fumbled with the buttons of his black shirt, breathing so hard and sensually as if he could wait no longer. In fact it felt like Vyn would be very much happy to just tear his shirt apart—not that his husband would mind, either.

“You were so determined to kill me earlier,” Marius said as Vyn unbuttoned the very last one, “but now you’re so hot and horny for me. I told you I did like your mood swings—hmph!”

He was cut off by Vyn’s mouth claiming his own—much to his delight—and soon he found himself hooking his arms under Vyn’s spine and the back of his legs, his feet then making way to their bedroom on the second floor. Vyn wrapped his arms around Marius’ neck instinctively, even pulling him closer as if he needed more, plenty more of him, and Marius loved the way his husband craved for his kisses that it must have given him some omniscient power to navigate the halls and the stairs in the dark so precisely.

In a minute a heavy thud reverberated, echoing across the massive bedroom as Marius opened the door—or rather twisted the knob then kicked the door—and went towards the bed with much haste. He’d licked, bitten, lapped at Vyn’s mouth one last time before he dropped him to the king-sized bed, covered in midnight-lacquered sheets, and proceeded to take off his shirt—

“Wait,” Vyn protested, but before his husband could respond he hooked his two fingers round the belt loop of Marius’ pants, and tugged him closer. It was so damn hot Marius’ cock twitched.

Suddenly he wanted to grab a fistful of Vyn’s hair and make him suck his dick. He’d fuck Vyn’s mouth so well with his hard cock the man would be a beautiful, crying mess the moment he swallowed his cum.

“I…” Vyn turned a little red. “I want to suck you.”

Marius swallowed as he hurried to comply, feeling a certain heat within him intensify. Vyn was already kneeling on the bed, making quick work unbuckling Marius’ belt and letting his cock spring free and fuck, Marius’ cock was heavy and warm and slick with precum, and Vyn felt his own twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He did not waste time. Vyn wrapped his long, slender fingers around his husband’s cock, feeling Marius throb against his palm, his cold fingers. He had sucked Marius dry since god knows when, but suddenly he felt like this was all new, that he was nervous and shy again, and it was as if he was taken back to their first night as two married men. That first night after Vyn said Yes, I do, I shall marry you, and Marius beamed and Vyn thought his husband could rival the sun. Funny what some husband quarrel and house violence could do to you—

“Just so you know, Vyn.” A low, impatient voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “I’m this close to shoving your face down my cock, if you don’t mind.”

Vyn bit his lip as he saw yet again that massive, hard cock staring right in front of him, waiting to be devoured. God, his husband’s cock was so beautiful, thick and velvety soft that his breath caught. And realizing once again that someone was getting impatient, Vyn leaned in and licked gently under the crown of Marius’ dick.

“Fuck.” Marius’ head dipped back, feeling his cock twitch against Vyn’s tongue. “Please—”

He rasped as Vyn complied, letting his mouth close around the head of his husband’s rock-hard cock—

“Fffuck,” Marius breathed, panting as Vyn made swirling motions with his tongue as he slid halfway down his length, “Fuck, Vyn!”

His eyes screwed shut, his hands clutching onto Vyn’s silver locks, and moaned out a broken cry as Vyn sucked his whole length, deep throating him, his wet, warm lips touching his Marius’ hot skin. “Fuck, Jesus.”

Vyn moaned around his cock, and as Marius felt it vibrate around him he dipped his head back again, seeing the goddamn stars. Vyn’s moaning didn’t stop even as he sucked his husband’s dick, Marius’ cock moving in and out of his mouth. Marius tasted so good. Every time Vyn sucked him it seemed he tasted even better and better, as if there were new flavours to his taste of clean sweat, of salty skin, and god even his precum seemed heavenly to Vyn’s tongue, melting like chocolate. His eyes fluttered shut as he sucked. God, he would suck this man’s cock forever.

Until Marius tugged Vyn’s head back, “Fuck, wait.” He panted heavily, and as he saw Vyn lick his lips—still glistening wet from his own saliva and Marius’ precum—Marius wanted to plug that pretty little mouth with his dick again. But he held himself together and said, “Wait. I’m… I was about to…”

“I’d swallow everything, Marius.”

“Fuck, stop it. Stop it or you’ll have to choke on my dick the rest of the evening.”

“What is the matter?”

Marius’ cheeks tinged a bit pink. He looked much like a teenager who wanted to try sex with his crush. “I want to… I—”

“Too good?” Vyn smirked.

“Fuck you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. Marius caressed Vyn’s hair, as softly as he could. “I want to come inside you.”

Vyn swallowed, his mind once again drawn to their little memories of fucking every night until both their legs had given in, and Marius thought the same. God, he couldn’t stop staring at his husband. Vyn looked ethereal bathed in the bedroom’s soft orange glow…

However this time it was Marius who was stripped—so quickly—from his reveries as he was pulled, thrown to the bed, with Vyn taking off his shirt, leaving his necktie around. His shirt was hauled off to the floor in a second, and now Vyn looked like some fallen angel as he straddled Marius, untying the silken tie with deft fingers, his wet lips parted in awe…

“What are you gonna do with that, huh?” Marius’ hand slipped round his husband’s waist. We’ve been married for years but goddammit, your waist is so fucking small.

“You’re gonna use that on me?” he added, whispering against the shell of Vyn’s ear, making his husband shudder. God, he loved it when Vyn did that. Loved it when his ministrations, even the smallest ones, had a great effect on him. “And look at you, don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion?”

“I—ah—”

His cock twitched again that it almost hurt, as if begging to be hilted inside Vyn’s ass. Vyn had the sexy habit of whining and making those kinds of sounds whenever he’s surprised or caught unawares, like that very moment when Marius stripped him off his vest with one go, the buttons clinking on the floor in unison. Marius didn’t waste a second and gripped the sleeves of his doctor’s coat, tugging it off him.

Until Vyn caught his wrists and said, “Let me.”

The muse started taking off his vest—slowly, tantalizingly. He knew all too well this act was a feast for his husband’s eyes, for his cock. The slutty bottom that he was, Vyn removed his clothing alongside his heavy, sexy breathing, his mouth slightly ajar, with some stray, silver strands falling over his eyes.

The vest went abandoned. Thrown to the floor just like all else. The shirt followed, Vyn making sure the sounds he made were heard, acknowledged—oh acknowledged indeed, what with his husband’s erection poking against his leg—and he couldn’t help but suppress a smile knowing Marius was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

When everything was unbuttoned, Vyn let the right sleeve slide down his arm, revealing some skin on his chest, his collarbone, his shoulder. Marius had seen it all, but still he thought he looked so ethereal, and so hot all the same that he was torn between treating him right—sweetly, gently—and fucking him so rough and so hard he won’t be able to walk the next day.

By instinct, Marius looked away. He bit his lip as he did, setting his sights away as he was suddenly so overwhelmed, so doubtful—do I even deserve this, he asked himself, realizing that it had been his fault why the shoot-out occurred in the first place: he missed a lot of dinners with Vyn. He was always out for his business of killing other people. He hurt him in all ways possible, especially tonight.

But then, “Marius.”

His gaze returned to Vyn. “Darling?”

“Do not look away.” Vyn’s hands, soft and cold, reached to caress his face. “Just look at me,” he said, his voice like that of an angel’s, “this is all yours—all of me. I am yours.”

Marius made sure that shirt was off his husband immediately.

He’d kissed him again, a mix of love and dominance, of lust and longing. Arms tight around Vyn’s waist he pulled his muse close to him, skin to skin, but he wanted them to be closer. He wanted to be inside him—to own him, body and soul.

He loved Vyn. Marius wouldn’t know who he is without him.

“I love you,” he grunted as Vyn ground against his erection, “I love you.” His hands wandered up his spine and down his ass, squeezing it, eliciting a moan from Vyn. “I love you.”

But it wasn’t long until Marius took his black, silken tie, staring intently, lustfully at Vyn before he hoisted it in between them, “May I?”

Vyn raised his wrists in answer. “And my tie?”

“For your eyes,” Marius said, his eyes darkening. “I was thinking your mouth, but I love hearing your noises.

“I love hearing your moans. Your whines. I love it when you scream my name.”

Marius licked his lips, and his chest swelled with triumph as he saw Vyn shiver again, turned on by a few words. Vyn gasped in surprise as Marius finished tying his wrists, pulling on the knot a bit harshly than he’d intended.

“Now,” Marius said as he worked on Vyn’s red tie, “you love the dark, don’t you darling?”

A whine escaped his lips as he was pushed to the bed. He couldn’t even recall how Marius looped and that red, silken tie around his eyes. All he knew now was he’s on the bed, on his back, his hands tied in front of him. “Ah, Marius…”

“What was that?”

Vyn could only nibble on his lower lip. “Please… oh!”

He moaned as he felt his husband’s mouth, warm and wet, close around his nipple. His toes curled at the sensation, especially at how Marius knew just how to kiss, lick, and suck his nipple and make him cry and moan so loud. His body moved frantically, the pleasure almost maddening now that his vision was obscured, and not knowing what Marius was gonna do next was killing him.

However soon he felt large hands grip his thighs, hoisting them, and Vyn most willingly submitted by wrapping his legs around Marius’ hips. He was now on top of him, could feel his hot, ragged breaths against his skin.

“You’re so hot,” Marius whispered as he kissed Vyn’s beauty mark, that one on his collarbone, “I just love fucking you so much,” he said, before unbuttoning Vyn’s pants and sliding his hand down under, wrapping his fingers around Vyn’s length.

“Oh! Marius, ah—”

“Yes, just like that…”

“Please!”

“You like that? Damn, you’re actually making this harder for me… let me just…”

Marius stopped, his hurrying hands fumbling on Vyn’s pants, in much haste to get inside him. Oh how badly he wanted to fuck his husband when he all but looked like a willing captive, writhing underneath him—he let his fingers travel down under, lingering on Vyn’s back, then trailing further south, massaging his arse, lifting Vyn a little in the process.

Marius did not waste any more time and took the head of his own cock, moving his hard-on closer until it rubbed softly, carefully over Vyn’s hole. He rasped as he did a little push inside. “Shit.”

“M-Marius…”

Marius took that as his signal to push further, letting out a small grunt as he moved another inch, then another, and he took satisfaction witnessing Vyn’s mouth parting as he whined, silver brows furrowed in pleasure. “Ohh, Marius—”

Marius gripped on his husband’s waist and hilted his entire cock inside him.

Vyn whined again, so loud Marius wondered if his voice reached the outside, even with their windows closed. Vyn cried as Marius moved inside him, his thick, warm cock fitting perfectly in his ass, hilting deeper and deeper with each thrust that Vyn couldn’t stop muttering curses and Marius, Marius didn’t have any words for it—just sounds, low and needy. Just grunts, and moans, and whines and cries.

Marius thrust again. Harder, deeper—

“Ohh, just like that!”

“Yeah?”

“Mm—ohh, f-faster please—!”

Marius nodded frantically, and he thought how much Vyn had an effect on him that, despite Vyn being the one tied up and writhing underneath him, Marius was actually the one in his mercy.

Good. Deservedly so. Vyn Richter was his Saving Grace and he’d worship the man forever.

“Ah—fuck! Marius…!” moaned the older man, biting his lip as he welcomed the familiar pain—and pleasure—down his nether part. It was only then Marius realized he had been too excited to claim Vyn that the thought of using a lubricant or even covering his dick with saliva never crossed his mind.

“Fuck, Vyn. Does it hurt?” he asked, but never stopped moving, pulling and pushing back in.

“N-no! It feels good. You feel good…” he moaned as he shook his head, “I’d rather you—ah!—fucked me hard.”

And it was enough to make Marius pin his husband’s hands atop his head, cursing as he thrust in, and out, so hard and so deep tears started rolling down Vyn’s pale cheeks. “Faster?”

“Y-yes!”

Marius gripped hard around Vyn’s wrists, railing the man as hard as he could, making Vyn cry with each powerful thrust. The sounds of wet, forceful squelching echoed across the room and, partnered with Vyn Richter’s needy moans, Marius thought damn, I should’ve brought a recorder.

Well, it’s not like he couldn’t do that soon. Pretty sure Vyn would be most willing to film all their blasphemous activities together. “I’m close.”

“M-me too…” Vyn bit his lip, his back arching in ecstasy brought about by their bodies, skin to skin. Marius pounded faster. It felt like fire, really, and he felt his stomach surging and ebbing and surging again and again with pleasure. They moved in sync now, Vyn’s hips thrusting to match his husband’s pace, and he knew he was close when he felt that electric sensation zipping through his veins, his loins, his cock. “M-Marius…!”

His balls drew up tight as Marius slammed into him, again and again. Vyn could only let out a broken cry as he sensed Marius’ hand grasping his cock, jerking it as fast and as hard, perfectly matched with the way Marius pumped his dick inside him in a relentless rhythm.

Vyn came. Loud, majestic, his hot cum spurting on Marius’ stomach and making a beautiful mess there, much like the way he was one. His head was fucking spinning and he thanked Marius for it. And he kept on crying out even as Marius came, his fresh seed filling Vyn up like he was always meant to.

He kept on going. Grinding in him so deep, so sensual, thrusting again and again and letting his very hard cock feel inside Vyn, helping both of them through the very last of their orgasms. Again, then again. One last time, until Vyn croaked weakly, and Marius grunted as he fell on the empty space on the bed, beside his husband.

Despite the exhaustion, he shifted to his side. Took the blindfold off his husband. Vyn’s eyes fluttered open immediately, albeit blearily, the fringe of his long, silver lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He gave Marius a weak smile. “That was…”

Marius let out a soft laugh, feeling the last bits of his energy dripping away. “I want to fuck you again.” He relaxed, but felt himself stiffen at the sight of his husband: ethereal. Beautiful with his cheeks flushed and mouth parted, his neck and chest gleaming in sweat. Vyn Richter, once again, in the afterglow of mindblowing sex.

“I love you,” he whispered, though he was not sure if Vyn heard. His eyes were already closed, and he looked like he was fast asleep. Marius smiled and snuggled close to him, with Vyn’s soft breathing lulling him to slumber.

Sometime around his dream, if he ever truly dreamed, he heard a silken voice say, “I love you, too.” Felt a gentle kiss on his forehead once, twice. Then another, “I will love you forever.”

When he awoke in the middle of the night, the quiet surrounding them, he saw Vyn was sound asleep. He rested his head against the hollow of Vyn’s neck, inhaling his sweet scent, and wrapped his arms around him. “Vyn,” he whispered, “I’ll love you forever, too,” before he kissed him on the cheek.

Somehow, Marius knew he hadn’t dreamt it.

Vyn awoke three hours earlier than usual, his eyes bleary, almost blind as he stared at the digital clock which blinked 5:58 AM. He wouldn’t be up this early, but his phone rang so alarmingly in the distance—atop that couch beside their bed where Marius fucked him the whole night—and with a ringtone he wouldn’t dare not pick up, lest he received yet another lecture. An hour or two of it, even if that lecture came from his, well… not his superior, because he was the superior.

He sighed—it was his junior calling. “Good morning, my rose.”

“DON’T ‘MY ROSE’ ME, RICHTER-VON HAGEN!” came his beloved junior’s rather sweet response, and Vyn instinctively pulled his phone away from his ear, unless he wanted his hearing damaged forever. “WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO YOU?”

“Language, beloved.”

“VYN!” Ah, there it was. He knew she was suppressing those sobs. It was conspicuous she had been pulling back tears the moment Vyn answered the call, the moment she’d heard his voice and confirmed he was alive, although not much well. “I was so, so worried about you… I thought… I thought you were—” she paused to take a light sniff, “dead. The squad is on their way. What happened?”

“I… I cannot tell you right now. I am sorry, dear,” he said, his gaze drifting to his husband who was still snoring in his sleep, and gods did Vyn thought Marius looked ethereal even during his most vulnerable moments. He fucked me so well last night…

“And please, Rosa,” he said, “tell the squad to halt their mission. I am all right—harmed, but I am faring well. And so is my husband.”

“Oh, my god. Mr. von Hagen was a witness?”

“Sort of. I shall tell you all about it when we meet.”

“Which is when, exactly?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied, his fingers running across the bare skin of his chest, wincing at the hurt from where Marius bit him. “You are in charge for now. Make certain the HQ is still up and about,” he said, “you are my second-in-command, so do what you must in my stead. Meet me tomorrow, same place.”

“Oh, uh—tomorrow, you said?”

“Yes. Is something the matter, dear?”

“Er, well…” she trailed, and Vyn’s brow arched in curiosity. He tried to rewind their past conversations, see if she’d mentioned anything she ought to accomplish tomorrow. There was nothing in particular, and Vyn was about to tell her twice until she cleared her throat and answered, “I actually… have a date tomorrow, Vyn.”

Ah. Understandable.

However, “I have taught you of the risks which comes along with our line of work. I hope you do keep your emotions out of your job—”

“What a hypocrite,” Marius muttered beside him. Was this idiot fake-sleeping the whole time?

“Never you mind. I am not against your relationships. I will meet you in two days, then,” Vyn continued—not without glaring at his husband first and foremost in the morning—and added, “but of course, what is this lucky lad’s name? Age, hair colour—”

“Luke Pearce, thirty years old. Coral eyes, chestnut blonde, and very cute.”

“Make certain you put up his records in the office. That aside—please enjoy your date, Rosa.”

Vyn pressed on the end button. He was thinking whether to check up on his husband or do a background check on Luke Pearce first, but he heard another phone call—this time from Marius’ phone—and even though he never truly meant to listen… well, however could he not?

“Hey, Luke?”

Vyn’s ears perked at the sound of his name. Luke.

“Yeah, sure. Wait, you can’t tomorrow?” Marius asked through the phone, his voice getting inaudible as he yawned, “oh, man. Congrats on bagging your first date—oh, wait a minute. Is this girl Rosa you’re going out with?”

“Who is that?” Vyn mouthed to him with those piercing golden eyes. My junior, his husband mouthed back, shrugging his shoulders. It’s not like I can hide it anymore from you.

Well, Luke was not his junior since Luke was older by a few years, but Marius had been an assassin earlier than him. And, well… he was Luke’s boss.

Vyn didn’t need to do a background check. He’d have to pester Marius for it. Just great, what are the odds that their juniors were going on a date?

The first thing Marius did when he ended the phone call was tackle Vyn into a hug, which the older man reciprocated much lovingly (despite his grumpy morning face). He was still scowling, but it was a contrast to the warmth which he gave Marius in return, and the eagerness emanating from him as he pressed closer against Marius’ exposed chest. It wasn’t very soon that Vyn had started nuzzling his face against his husband’s cheeks, like a cat trying to be sweet.

“Vyn.”

“I thought you addressed me as darling or love or baby, but I suppose we—”

“Really, Vyn? This early in the morning?” Marius laughed as he cuddled him more. “You know, I was just gonna ask you something…”

“You want to fuck me again?”

And there it was, that familiar pout and puppy eyes, all too powerful even for Vyn that he knew immediately he wouldn’t be able to deny him. Well, it’s not like he’d decline some more good fucking. “Don’t you want me to?” Marius said, his pout much guilt-enducing now.

But not until Vyn pushed the sheets down until it reached his thighs, revealing his now bulging erection, his sudden craving for Marius. “Whatever are you waiting for?”

“Fuck. You sure know how to—”

Another phone call.

Vyn sighed and took the phone. His eyes widened, only for a fraction of a second, upon seeing the caller ID.

“Please tell me you’ll ignore that.”

“Unfortunately for us—” he slid a finger down the green button, “we cannot decline this one.

“Good morning, Captain Morgan.”

“This is Artem,” came that deep, familiar baritone, and Vyn felt himself shiver from the way Artem sounded in the mornings. The senior lawyer had always been a morning person, but there were times too wherein he was too lazy to get up for work—can you actually believe that?—so Vyn had to do all sorts of things to get him moving. His voice during those moments hadn’t changed at all: deep and husky, almost seductive.

“Artem,” he repeated, and the name seemed to capture Marius’ attention, too. “Good morning. Why are you calling this early in the morning? And why are you using Captain Morgan’s phone?”

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. “Darius forgot to bring his phone,” he answered. “I called to let you know he’s coming, along with his squad. Too many noise complaints last night. They’re going to investigate.”

“Just so you know, Wing—my house is an estate. I am quite certain no one was bound to hear us…” Oh, shit. Marius threw a grenade in my garden.

He shot Marius a glare before he returned, “Tell Captain Morgan to go home.”

“I kept telling him that,” he replied, quite vexed now. “It was supposed to be our day off, Vyn. Our only day off, and you just had to ruin it.”

“It is not my fault you cannot persuade your boyfriend to stay in bed with you.”

“Are we—”

“Hello there, Artem.” Marius had snagged the phone away from Vyn, having felt that impending argument that would probably last hours—he wouldn’t admit that he was only jealous because Artem was Vyn’s only ex-boyfriend, almost husband—and had taken matters into his own hands. “We’ll meet Captain Morgan when he gets here, all right? I’ll tell him to go home, so let’s have peace, yeah? Bye!”

“I could have handled that, Marius,” Vyn spat, but not before Marius hopped out of bed and went to browse through his cabinet. He got himself a clean set of sleepwear in pastel green, Vyn’s most adored colour, and threw the shirt in Vyn’s direction. “Give me the pants as well.”

“No,” said Marius, already in the process of wearing it, “you take the shirt, I take the pants. It’s too long for you, anyway.”

Vyn crossed his legs, folded his arms. “What are you planning?”

“We’re gonna give ‘em a show.”

When Vyn opened the front door to their house, he was met with the rather hot welcome of flashing lights, towering video cameras, fully-dressed reporters and papparazzis in all black. He could make out the faint sirens coming from the police cars parked outside the estate, and he only hoped no one was able to round the bend leading to his recently-bombed garden.

“Vyn Richter, is it true there was a shoot-out here last night?”

“Vyn, did you have a quarrel with Mr. von Hagen?”

“Vyn, the people are curious—is divorce on the table yet?”

“Are you and Mr. von Hagen are going to be available in the marriage market again?”

“Vyn, rumors say that you and Mr. von Hagen are involved in matters of Mafia and secret services. Is that true?”

“Vyn, are you pregnant?”

His eyed widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“VYN!”

If he really ought to be true to his role of being a… babygirl who would pretend to be lightheaded or unwell after coming across crazy reporters with no sense of privacy, he would’ve done it after a few more moments or so. However Vyn truly was made unwell by said blinding lights and mad interviewers, and by instinct he pressed a palm against his temple and leaned against the doorframe, suddenly dizzy at the commotion. “Please…”

“Give him space, everyone. Move, move!”

Oh, dear. Thank goodness for Captain Morgan, he thought as Darius practically shoved the reporters out of the way as he reached for Vyn. A strong hand gripped him by the arm, enough to steady his slowly unstable body. “You okay, Richter?”

“von Hagen,” he corrected. “And not quite, Captain.”

“You can hold onto me,” he said, then faced the crowd of reporters again, “stop it with the cameras. If I see another shot I’ll have you all arrested—”

“You better listen to him.” Marius stepped beside Vyn, and in a heartbeat slipped his arm around his huband’s slender waist. Vyn felt his cheeks grow warm at the feeling of Marius’ hand holding him around the waist, in front of all these people—not to mention he was only wearing a green button top and Marius only in his pajamas. Thank god the cameras had stopped—courtesy by Darius who threatened an arrest—because those dark red hickeys and bite marks were clearer than the clearest of blue skies.

This man, Vyn thought as he leaned against Marius’ chest, he really likes to show off, doesn’t he?

He tried to hide a chuckle. It was true Marius loved to show off, but he loved it most when Marius showed him off for everyone to see, for everyone to know who owned him. At this moment, the message was pretty clear. Even the most senseless person would make sense what Marius wanted to say—that Vyn was his, and Marius was Vyn’s. It was written all over the young von Hagen: from the smirk on his lips, the red marks on his exposed chest. The top which covered Vyn’s probably hickey-filled body.

And so Vyn acted the part, pretending to be nauseous as he rested his head against his husband’s shoulder this time, and hooking his arm around Marius’. “I am not feeling very well…”

Marius squeezed his waist gently. “I’ll get you inside,” he said, and Vyn nodded faintly. Marius then turned to Captain Morgan, who was staring at them rather incredulously. It was conspicuous he never wanted to be here, to witness all this—he’d rather spend the day fucking Artem. “Sorry, Cap. I’ll give you a call and help you fix our mess. For now…” he paused and gestured to an exhausted Vyn, “my husband needs rest. You’ll handle this for now, yeah?”

Darius sighed, massaging his temples. “Yes. I’ll also let Artem know.”

“You better go home to him. He was pretty pissed with us this morning.”

“And whose fault is that, Mr. von Hagen?”

“Ehh ~” Marius pouted, but before he could say another word Darius asked, “What am I going to report? There were a lot of noise complaints. Some said it sounded like a grenade.”

“The answer is right in front of you.” Marius winked. “You see, this is what happens when you’re away for work too long. You tend to really, really miss your husband…”

Darius wanted to roll his eyes—no, he wanted to punch Marius. Does this brat really expect me to write ‘very loud, earth-shattering sex’ as the reason for those noise complaints?

Whatever could he do, though? He couldn’t possibly deny the Marius von Hagen of all people. Besides, he was not anointed as the newest NXX member for him to report Marius and Vyn just like that. Fine—he was going to write that unreasonable reason.

Marius seemed to know Darius was not going to deny him, and so the captain was met with the von Hagen’s signature, youthful grin that seemed to say: Hehe, you can’t deny me, can you?

Darius eyed Vyn one more time. He didn’t seem as sick as he appeared, but Darius knew he was indeed exhausted. However he wondered, as he waved the couple goodbye and ordered the reporters and paparazzis to keep out lest they get arrested, how can Richter—er, von Hagen—be this radiant after that violent shoot-out?

The moment Marius closed the door, Vyn muttered:

“Tell Vincent to arrange you an appointment with me,” he said, almost half-moaned, “based on my findings last evening, you need psychiatric help.”

… This hypocrite!

#vyn richter #mo yi #tears of themis vyn #tears of themis #marius von hagen #tot artem #artem wing #darius morgan #rosa tears of themis #tears of themis luke #luke pearce #vynmarius #marivyn #vyn richter x marius von hagen #artem wing x darius morgan #lukerosa

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nawilla · 5 months

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So, 2024 has continued to suck.

Hopefully none of you remember exactly why last weekend, the first weekend of the new year, was incredibly NOT FUN, let's just say it involved plumbing distress that led to having to pee in the shower and time bowel movements for when I was at work until it was resolved and I spent a day at work hiding in my office so I could be near a toilet for female reasons. It was functionally resolved by Sunday evening (thank deity of choice) and between bleach and scrubbing bubbles cleanup was emotionally difficult but not physically difficult. (Full cleanup of the whole room is ongoing, but it's the basement, so that's okay).

The second weekend of 2024 is a three-day weekend in the US as Monday is a government holiday (MLK Day). It is also a university holiday which is shall we say, not universal in academia. (I finally remembered why it wasn't a holiday at my alma mater. It was because spring semester classes didn't start that early).

In order for me to take a weekday off of a three-day weekend, I still have to get Monday's work done over that weekend for the rest of the week to go smoothly. While I can choose whatever day I do it on, and it's a half-day's work, not a full day's work, it still needs to get done and I'm almost never going to be able to squeeze it in on Friday. This past week, one of my bosses had a meltdown in the animal room due to bad lighting and him probably needing new glasses. Regardless, it put me behind on my own work, so rather than stay at work Friday past 10 pm (and stand on concrete floors and aggravate my plantar fasciitis again, I came into work Saturday morning, worked a good 4ish hours, took an extended lunch break (got writing done, yay) and worked another 4ish hours to get Friday and Monday's work done, so I could take off on Monday. Oh, the things I could do. Some quick shopping. Laundry. Take N the Cat to the vet because apparently, she was hiding feeling under the weather.

On Sunday I get groceries for the first time in 2.5 weeks (plumbing issues last weekend) and notice I'm starting to cough. A lot. Darn, a cough. Could be my allergies. It's been raining a lot which sets them off, and we are also experiencing a cold snap which leads to me huddling on the couch under blankets and N the Cat, which can result in acid reflux due to my prone position for long periods.

In the middle of the night on Sunday, the unrelenting sinus headache hits. OMG. Ow. This is why I was coughing. The allergy meds probably masked it. Also, I'm less cold all of a sudden, which is not a weather reversal, I have a fever. I finally get a weekday off free and clear and I'm fricking sick and my head just won't stop hurting. Mind you, it's tolerable pain. It's not a migraine. It just won't stop. It woke me up from sleep.

The next weekday I will get off from work is March 15th, the last Friday of Spring Break. I will probably not get to take it off because I will still be waiting for people to get their data in Thursday at 6 pm. The university skips a lot of random government holidays to keep the term going and gives us days off between Christmas and New Years instead.

I am not amused with 2024.

#2024 #2024 sucks #sick on holiday

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litterateur97 · 5 months

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Lol 2023 has been a hell of a year, but I played so many incredible games this year! So I wanted to share a list of my top 10 favorite games I played this year!

10. Crab Champions

You get to be a crab! What's not to like? But seriously I've had a lot of fun playing this with my friends this year, and for an early access game they've done a good job of having a good bit of content!

9. Coffee Talk

This game was just so sweet. I loved getting to know all of the characters and their stories. I do wish it had been a little longer, but I know there is a part 2, so I'm excited to play that some day!

8. Unpacking

I absolutely love easy going games like this one. It was just oh so calming to play. Really hit the tism in the right places!

7. Cozy Grove

The coziest game. No but seriously it's so cute, very animal crossing like. There's only so much you can do each day, but I kind of like that. It's a game I won't play all night, but can play every day!

6. The Outlast Trials

Yet another early access game I played this year and man does this one actually scare me! I've played a lot of horror games and few have made me jump like this one. And I get to play with my friends and hear them scream too lol! I'm excited to see what they continue to add to this game!

5. Pathologic 2

I think this is the most stressed I've ever been playing a videogame ever lol! This game makes me second guess myself constantly and I still haven't finished it yet! But the story is fantastic. A game that makes you feel hopeless but still makes you want to play it!

4. We Were Here Forever

What an incredible conclusion to the We Were Here series! I have enjoyed all of the games, but this one really had the best puzzles and added so much to the story! And of all the finales to these games, this one was the best for sure!

3. Lethal Company

There's a reason it's gotten so big on TikTok, this game is so much fun! With the more company mod I've been able to play with so many of my friends and enjoy the utter insanity of it all! I may always die in this game, but at least I always laugh while playing lmao!

2. Hades

I've been wanting to play this one for a long time and I'm so glad I finally did! I'm not usually one for roguelite, but this game was incredible! I romanced all the romance options and got to be poly! I found my mom! I pet Cerberus so many times!! I died a lot before I finally beat Hades, but I got there eventually lol!

1. Baldur's Gate 3

There's a reason this won game of the year, it absolutely deserved it. I am 200 hours in and haven't beaten the game because there's so much content! So much to explore! So many wonderful companions, making it impossible to choose who to romance!!! (I romanced the twink, of course) I love this game. I may even love it more than Skyrim, a game I've put 1500 hours of my life into. I think bg3 is going to beat that.

#top 10 videogames 2023 #i like making lists #but seriously this year had so many good games goddamn #i will be playing bg3 for the next decade i think lmao #after a decade of playing Skyrim the torch has finally been passed to a new fantasy game

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 2 years

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The Reaper and The Death Angel Part 31

This will be the second last to the last chapter where the sexual violence of season two will be a large part of the story, as always triggers will be put between XX. Happy's getting a lot more back story, there's also a lot of highly unrealistic change to the canon, if I give the reasons it will spoil future plans.

Series Masterlist

Part 30 Snippet 4 - The Charming Gazette

Contains: Brief discussions of sexual assault and past domestic violence, angst, hurt/comfort, smut (fingering, P in V), murder involving a child, forensics. Follows the plot of 2x11 and 2x12.

6.3K words

Comment if you want to be tagged.

The only good Nazi is a dead one

"I wanted to tell you, but I'm not going to apologise for keeping her confidence."

Jax nodded, "you did the right thing, keeping her secret. You had no choice."

You nodded, "I would have kept it even if I had the choice, it's not my place to tell her story. What are you going to do about Zobelle? I don't think your dad's book covered something like this."

Jax shook his head, "if Gemma had been beaten and almost gang-raped on John's watch, he'd have written a whole different book."

Knock knock knock.

Jax took his gun out of his kutte, you both went to get up but Jax put a hand on your shoulder, "it's alright, I've got it." Clay and leaning on the wall when Jax opened the door.

"Sorry, I know it's late."

Abel was crying, "he needs food, I'll get him." Jax shook his head, "I've got it, just bring the bottle in." You nodded and went to the kitchen while Clay and Jax went into the nursery.

You waited a little while before going in, it seemed they had worked something out. You knocked on the door and handed the bottle to Jax, turning on your heel and walking away, "stay, please."

You were shocked that Clay asked. "I'm sure you know a lot more than we do."

You nodded, "I have the files in my car, some of the Anvil guys and I have been doing surveillance and recon since it happened, I know everything there is to know about all of them."

Upon seeing the file, they decided to wait till tomorrow at church to go over it. Clay left with another apology and a promise to do better by both of you.

"I'm sorry y/n."

You tilted your head, "why are you saying sorry?"

His eyes were downcast, "you've been doing everything these last few months, raising Abel, working, doing all of this, your book. I feel like I've been neglecting you."

You shook your head, "I like to stay busy Jax, it keeps me sane."

He closed his eyes, "I….I."

You cut him off, "it's done Jax, I knew what I was getting into when I started this. Things will slow down and go back to the way they used to be and you can make it up then if you feel the need. Until then, I need sleep, I have a very big day tomorrow."

*****

"Good morning beloved." You were already up and dressed when you woke Jax up, "I won't be at the Clubhouse for long, I have another thing tonight so I'll be home early morning."

Jax blinked the sleep out of his eyes, "I'll meet you there."

You waited outside the Chaple while Jax and Clay told the Club what was done to Gemma, about twenty minutes after they went in, Sam came out and got you.

"Over the last two months, I've collected enough evidence for you to be able to bring Zobelle down." You handed each of them a file.

"Zobelle and Weston get most of their muscle for a faction of the Aryan Brotherhood. Weeks before this started, I got a call from a shot caller who I met when I did my thesis, all he said was that I needed to watch my back, when I asked for clarification, he said it would take me calling in my favour." They were all listening intently.

"I saved his life, I didn't even mean to do it and I told him as a much but he went on a rant about being an honourable white man and while I never planned to cashing it in, I had to."

You continued, "I spoke to him just after Gemma was attacked, he didn't tell me much, only that Weston was on a short leash and most shot callers hated him because he had no problems recruiting sex offenders into his ranks which goes against the AB by-laws." You shrugged, "he won't cause problems for you if you kill Weston, and he'll make sure no one else does."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

You took a deep breath, "Zobelle has sanctioned gang rapes in every place he's landed, Weston has always been the leader but it's different men everytime." There was a sharp inhale from someone.

"Two of the men who assaulted Gemma are already dead, one of them was one of the men that attacked me, the one I didn't allow to speak, and the other the was the one that died from that bee sting that was in the paper. Before you go off, this was done to Gemma, I asked her if she wanted him dead and she said yes."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

No one protested, "another thing before I leave, I think Zobelle might be working with the feds. I can't do too much looking because it will set off alarm bells but I'm willing to bet he is."

Clay smiled, "any way we can prove that?"

You nodded, "if Zobelle is arrested they will have to intervene."

A resolve came over the table, "thank you."

The sentiment was shared by everyone, "as much as I would like to stay and help, I got a call while I was waiting outside, hikers found a child's body in the woods, I need to get to the scene."

****

The little girl had gone missing in Texas, when you talked to the mother, she insisted it was the father that did it. She wasn't really coherent after that. You were filing the paperwork for the cops when Happy arrived.

"Umm, Mr Lowman at the door for you."

Poor Travis, that man was a saint, "thanks T, let him in." A few seconds later, Happy was at your office door.

"Hello, you don't normally come for a visit, is everything ok?"

He didn't say anything, "is it your mum or aunt?"

He shook his head, "you doing ok?"

You nodded, "as ok as I can be. It's you I'm worried about, you have been very quiet these last few weeks, even Sam brought it up."

He rubbed his face, "it's a lot to deal with."

You sat down next to him, "I imagine this is bringing up some very unpleasant memories." There was a flash of surprise on his face.

"I did a pretty extensive background check before I moved. I know you're father, if you could call him that lived with you on and off. I also know that your mother had multiple trips to the hospital when he was living with you. However, each time something happened to you, he left." Happy swallowed.

"I also know that he was killed in what appeared to be a gang shooting when you were sixteen. But I don't believe that for one bit, the way he went indicates that it was very personal, broken fingers, shot multiple times after death, whoever killed him was filled with rage." His head dropped.

"I don't blame you for protecting your mother, and I know there's a very deep, dark part of you that worries you're just like him. But I also know you've never killed a woman, and all the women at CaraCara and the Club hang arounds love you. None of this is your fault and you can't blame yourself for what's happened." His head fell against your shoulder and you reached up to rub his scalp.

"I know it comes from a good place, and the anger you're feeling now seems righteous but it will just cloud your judgement." He was too far into his own head to listen.

"The reason I'm so hardcore on inmates' rights is because of what I experienced when I wrote that paper. I worked in the three gang units most of the time, but when it came time to write a clinical sexology paper on sex offenders, I went to a different pod. It was in the same building as the gang pods just down a long hallway." He seemed to be listening a little more now.

"Whenever I would go back to the gang pods, I would get questions, my answers would often be followed by some violent fantasy one of them had about getting inside the unit."

He nodded, "then a riot broke out and they did get inside. I've never seen so many rival gangs working together, I could hear the screams for the other end of the building. I thought the violence would stay in the pod but I was wrong, I went to get something for the commissary which had been broken into, on the way I walked by a bathroom." Happy had an idea about what you were going to say.

"When I looked in, four men were skinning a child molester alive. I locked eyes with one of them and kept walking, it felt good, I felt vindication for the victims that monster had left behind."

He swallowed, "what I'm trying to say is that I understand why you've been feeling so off, but there's a reason they say revenge is a dish best served cold. Your anger won't help, calm calculation is far more terrifying than rage."

He sat up, "thank you."

You smiled, "feeling better now?"

He nodded, "yeah, Jax is lucky to have you."

He stood up with you and you gave him a hug, "you know my number, if you want to talk about anything, I'm here."

Without another word, he left.

****

It was later in the day when you got home, Jax jumping as you walked into his bedroom. There were some boxes already stacked in the corner but he was busying himself gathering his guns.

"Hey, I thought you were at work."

You shrugged, "it seems pretty open and shut. A father kidnapped his little girl, she had a medical episode and died. The cops already suspected him so my work's done until the test are back."

He nodded, "did you see my mum?"

You shook your head, "no Happy stopped by to talk about some things but I talked to her over then phone, she's pretty numb. I'll keep an eye on her until I have to leave for the other thing."

Jax smiled softly, "thank you."

Jax walked up to you, picking up your hand and bringing it to his lips, "I love you."

You smiled, "I love you too." Jax walked away, you stopping him before he could get out of inside voice range, "do you want me to take these boxes to my place?"

"Please Darlin."

****

You went to T-M to see your brother, only to be greeted by Tig, "hello, is Sam here?"

He shook his head, "out with Jax looking for Weston."

You nodded, "thank you." You were about to leave when Tig pulled you into the garage then into the Clubhouse.

"You don't like me very much, do you?"

You took a deep breath, "I will not lie to you, the answer is no."

He crossed his arms over his chest, "why?"

You straightened up, "because you're a disloyal coward. Not only did you go after a member without the Club's approval but you killed his wife because you couldn't stand to look your friend in the face before you shot him in cold blood."

You put up a hand when he went to defend himself, "Stahl didn't pull the trigger, Stahl didn't choose to not identify the target before firing the gun, Stahl didn't keep the truth from Opie, you did." He was taken aback by your frankness.

"I imagine Clay let you know that I knew?"

He nodded, "I found your hair, it popped on the database. All I can say to you is that I betrayed my most sacred morals on your behalf and now you are indebted to me. I'm not going to tell you to tell Opie, you need to come to that on your own." He looked lost in thought.

"Do you know the fable of the scorpion and the frog?"

He nodded, "I can't fault you for what you did because I believe it's in your nature, you didn't kill Donna by mistake because you loved Opie, you killed Donna by mistake because it's in your nature to be weak spined."

You turned when you heard Opie's bike, "speaking of the frog."

He stopped you from walking away. "I wanted to talk to you because I'm going to tell him, now in fact, I just wanted to know if you thought of me the way I think you do."

You nodded, "I probably think far worse of you than you know, Mr Tragger, but perhaps if you choose to take full responsibility for your actions, you will change my mind. If part of me didn't think there was some good in you, we wouldn't be having this conversation." With one last look, you left.

Tig swallowed and took a deep breath, walking over to Opie as he was fixing the old bike he found on the highway. Tig didn't know where to start, after a brief mention of Gemma he asked Opie why Donna was driving the car that night.

Opie clued in pretty quickly, then Tig fully admitted it. He thought back to what you said about Stahl not being the one to pull the trigger but there was a part of him that didn't want to admit that it was his fault so he went for the middle ground.

"Stahl put bugs in your car, made you look like a rat. Clay and I didn't want to bring it to the Club, we were worried about it ruining the charter so we decided to deal with it ourselves."

Opie didn't care, he was punching Tig like he was trying to kill him. Tig for his part, did the honourable thing and took each blow. Jax pulled into the lot and stopped it before it could get worse.

Once Opie had walked away Tig went into explaining what had happened, "I had to tell him."

Clay was mad, "tell him what?"

Tig was looking at the grey sky, "that I killed Donna."

There was a charge in the air, Jax ran off to stop Opie from killing Stahl and the rest of them stood around staring at Tig and Clay. Chibs out a firm hand on Tig's arm, "I'll clean you up."

****

Sam had turned up at your office just after you did, "'Tig said you were looking for me?"

He nodded, "yeah, after what just went down, everyone's staying away from T-M."

He sat on the couch, "that's understandable, have you seen Ope?"

He nodded, "he just got back, he went after Stahl but he didn't do anything." You breathe a sigh of relief.

"I don't blame him if he hates us, we did keep it from him."

Sam nodded, "I know, why did you want to see me?"

You smiled, "I need you to keep the Club distracted tonight, nothing serious I just want them away from Mainstreet for a few hours around midnight."

Sam nodded, "I can do that easy, I'll just say you're doing more recon on Zobelle and don't want to spook him."

You clapped your hands, "great."

Sam shook his head, "what are you planning?"

You smiled again, messing around with the papers on your desk, "all will be revealed."

Sam shook his head, "how did it go with church?"

Sam took a deep breath, "Opie doesn't want it to escalate, he says he's staying."

You rubbed your face, "he's a better man than me, I would have shot both of them the moment I had the proof. He has every right to hate us for keeping this from him."

Sam nodded, "I know."

You titled your head, "are you hiding something?"

He smirked, "Piney almost killed Clay."

You could hold back the smile, "good for Piney."

Sam went over to the table and got himself a cup of coffee, "Your recon panned out, it looks like Zobelle might be looking to work with another Club."

Sam handed you a cup, "who?"

"Calaveras MC, Alvarez hates the guy but he isn't willing to do much more than voice his support for the Club to be gotten rid of."

You waved your arm "this is too much for me, I can't put out that fire too."

Sam nodded, "yeah, this is Clay's bed, he's going to have to lay in it."

"Agreed."

****

Sam had put dinner on the table, it was pretty quiet for most of the meal, "how was work today?"

You shrugged, "the case was rough but the father confessed just after he was arrested, I'll be into the next one in two days once the paperwork clears."

"Did you and Lyla get the distribution contract?"

Ima nodded, "yeah, four more paid porn sites are taking on the Saffron Sisters."

Sam smiled, "what about the underwear line?"

She shook her head, "it's been put on hold because of a problem with the fabric production, we're trying to secure another American manufacturer."

"Have you asked Francine? She might be able to hook you up with someone."

Ima nodded, "good idea, I'll go with Luanne tomorrow."

Sam chimed in, "if she does give you the option, it's a bonus that you can say it's all small business based."

Jax laughed, "since when did you all become business people?"

Sam chuckled, "nah, I think that's just y/n and Ima." The rest of the night was very much the same until Derek's car horn sounded outside your front door.

"Well lovelies, that's my ride, I'll be back at around three. Don't wait up."

****

"Oh hello."

Aden was in the backseat waiting for Derek to talk to you, "I thought we could use the extra pair of hands."

You drove Jacob Hale's office under darkness, waiting until the street was empty to get out and start. It took a matter of minutes for it to be done. There was no need to worry about cameras, small chips on your shirts caused CCTV within a certain range to show nothing but static.

You got home just after two-thirty, Jax was awake rocking Abel back and forth when you went into the shower, "I thought I told you not to wait up."

He chuckled, "I didn't want to but Abel did, he's such a momma's boy." You towelled off your hair and took him from Jax's arms.

"Don't listen to him little one, he's just jealous because you're a cool baby and he's a boring adult."

Jax shook his head, "did you do what you needed to do."

You nodded, "yeah, you might want to take Mainstreet to work tomorrow, there's a surprise along the way." Once Abel had calmed down, you put him back into his crib and went to bed.

"Good night y/n."

"Good night beloved."

*****

Jax was a little excited when he woke up, running downstairs to shove breakfast into his mouth while Sam chastised him about getting the hiccups. Ima was glued to the paper, reading it with an increasingly angry expression.

"What is it Darlin?" She shook her head and closed the paper and passed it to him, the front-page story was pretty to the point.

"Fascists at our door."

Jax sped through the article, he had read enough of your books to know that you at least wrote the draft.

"On the second of September 1945 World War Two ended and the world celebrated as the Nazi scourge was wiped off the face of the planet, but this is not the case in our small town. A place where there are people from all different walks of life, including a Holocaust survivor and his decedents, come to live a quiet, small-town life, Charming is now host to a group of violence Neo-Nazi and their supporters."

There were four photos of Ethan Zobelle and his men, surrounded by Nazi propaganda.

"Worse still, one of Charming's most promising sons is leading the charge, Jacob Hale." Another photo of Hale shaking hands with more than one of the men.

"Is this the man you want as our Mayor?"

Jax smiled, yelling a quick goodbye and kissing Ima on the cheek before getting on his bike and driving up Mainstreet. When he drove past Hale's office there was a huge crowd gathered out front, he parked his bike and got off, the group moving aside at the sight of his kutte.

He didn't know whether to smile or jump for joy, the whole front of the office was covered in blown-up photos. Jacob shaking hands with Zobelle and his men, pictures of the men next to their rap sheet filled with hate crime convictions and violent offences. Close-ups of their racist tattoos and photos of Zobelle and his men throwing up the Fascist salute with Hale in the crowd.

The last few photos really took his eyes, David Hale punching his brother, David Hale arresting some of Zobelle's men and two of him leaving Weston's place waiting for CPS to arrive.

At the top of the door, in messing red spray paint, was a statement that really hammered it home.

"A Nazi collaborator works here."

The people were enraged, he could overhear some of them talking about going to Impeccable Smokes to send a message. Jax got on his bike and headed to T-M, when he got there, everyone was reading The Charming Gazette and talking about what they saw at Hale's office.

Clay came up smiling, "I guess we'll never have to worry about Hale developing Charming."

Jax shook his head with a smile, "no, we won't." Jax went into the dorm and called you.

"Did you see it, did you see it?"

He laughed at your childish tone, "yeah Darlin, I saw it."

He could hear a soft squeak over the line, "yay! As much as I would love to brag, I'd rather do it in person tonight."

Jax shook his head, "alright, keep your secrets. I love you, I hope you know that."

"I love you too Jackson, now get out there and have fun, I'm sure Hale will come crawling for PR some time today."

****

The whole incident was the talk of the town, Jacob Hale started his day by being greeted at his door by his brother and some deputies, "something has happened at the office, we're here to take you there safely."

When he got there, the people milling around started jeering and spitting. David raised his voice, "we're not going to stop you from exercising your first amendment rights but you need to clear a path."

It was the same story with Zobelle but he had his goons standing outside four abreast, he pulled Weston aside, angrily ranting in the back.

"Do we know who did this?"

Weston shook his head, "no but I know what happened to the two men we sent to Teller's bitch's house." He pulled an envelope out of his pocket, opening it to show a tanned tattoo, a Norse symbol. There was a note along with it.

"The only good Nazi is a dead one."

Zobelle shook his head, "I thought we tracked their phone to the Mexico border?"

Weston nodded, "we did, there was traffic footage of them in the car at the border."

Zobelle rubbed his face, "it seems we underestimated all of SAMCRO's women. We need to change plans, the people of Charming no longer want us here."

Weston left without another word.

Jacob Hale's day only got worse, when it was clear the photos weren't just going to come off, he went to hire the local pressure washing company but was turned down. His lawyer said suing The Gazette would just make him look even worse since they had proof which meant it wasn't deformation and half his investors had cancelled by midday.

David, on the other hand, had already been thanked more than once. One person even asked if he and his brother were really related. Unser had pulled him aside and asked if he knew who did it, he had an idea after thinking back to your comment about handling his brother in public, he was sure it was you, but he wasn't going to say that.

There was no way he wouldn't make sheriff now, no matter what his brother did.

****

"Nazi scum at the door for you y/n."

You weren't surprised, "Hale?" Travis gave an affirmative grunt, "check him for weapons, thoroughly, then send him in." It took a little longer for Hale to arrive at your door.

"What do you want?"

He walked in, doing his best to ignore the death stares from the other staff, "I….I. Did you have anything to do with this?"

He showed you the newspaper, and you shook your head, "no, nor did I have anything to do with what happened at your office."

He took in your nasty smile, "again, what do you want?"

He shook his head, "stop wasting my time, I warned you what would happen and you didn't listen. What happened is your fault, now get lost or I will be responsible for what happens next. I'm sure the Feds would love to know where your money is going."

You pressed the intercom, "please come and remove this man from my office, I can't stand to look at him one moment longer."

****

The second Jax got in the door, you were being picked up and kissed, "you are a genius woman, I think that was the most amazing thing I've seen in years."

You smiled and returned the kiss, "which Hale showed up first?"

Jax rubbed your nose with his, "David, he just came to ask if we knew anything, then he apologised again for even thinking about working with them."

"What did Jacob turn up for?"

Jax smirked, "he wanted to borrow detailing equipment, half of Charming were there bringing their grievances about him to Clay so it didn't go over well." You put a hand on his arm, gesturing for him to help you get dinner ready.

"It won't matter, he'll need a special solvent to get both the paint a glue off. Did Jerry call Clay?"

He nodded, 'yeah, Clay and some of the other guys made comments, they're going to be published tomorrow. Did you make one?"

You nodded, "yep, I even mentioned that I brought my concerns about Zobelle and the League to both Hale's and only David listened. I can't wait to read the story." Jax wrapped his arms around your waist while you made the sauce, "it will help with the charges too, I imagine the people of Charming are far more supportive of the Club's actions now?"

Jax kissed your neck, "yep, we got it all day long, some people are going to write letters of support to the court." As you got dinner on the table and Sam and Ima wandered in, Jax whispered in your ear, "I hope you're not planning on any more fun tonight, because I need to thank you for all your hard work."

****

The night was enjoyable, Ima had to leave the table more than once to talk to Luanne about more movie requests "sorry about that, we've been getting a lot of requests since we expaned."

They cleaned the dishes while you fed Abel and put him to bed. Jax was waiting for you when you got to the bedroom, pulling you into his lap as you climbed into bed.

"I missed you."

You giggled, "it's been like a week."

He leaned down and kissed your neck, one of his hands coming up to stroke your nipple through your shirt, "you know I can't get enough of you."

You shifted further into his lap, pressing your chest closer to his, "you're very warm."

Jax lifted his eyebrows, "yes, and your hands are very cold." You smiled and ran them over his belly under his shirt, Jax twitching away from you before taking his shirt off and bringing your hands to kiss his lips to kiss them.

You leaned back slightly so Jax could pull your top off, his lips wrapping around one nipple while his fingers brushed the other, you sat and on your knees for a moment to pull your underpants off, Jax's free hand going to your centre.

"Shit, you're wet, I guess you missed me too."

You giggled and kissed his cheek, "truth? Last night kind of got me going, I forgot how intoxicating adrenalin can be" Jax smirked against your skin, his middle and index fingers making lazy circles around your clit.

He slid two fingers inside you as you wrapped your arms around his torso, his fingertips were rubbing your G-spot with practised expertise, his lips never leaving your skin.

"Jax please, I want you inside me."

He smirked against your skin, his fingers rubbing a little harder, "I am inside you Darlin."

You turned your head a bite his skin, "I want your cock inside me." He pulled his fingers out, sucking them into his mouth before shifting so he could take off his boxers.

"I can do that." Jax wrapped his arm around your lower back and helped you lift yourself up while his other hand held his cock in place. You pressed your lips to him as you slid down, the hand on his cock moving to your clit.

"That's it." Jax hands never left your skin, his lips moving from yours to your neck at random, your chests were pressed together and your hands clutched his back.

One of his hands moved over your crow, his fingertips rubbing gently. "I love you so much."

You were holding onto him like a koala, your hips moving in time with his, "I love you too Jackson."

The fingers on your clit sped up and you tighten your arms around him, "fuck you feel so good."

"Jax, please."

He buried his head in your neck, "I know Darlin, I'm right behind you." You moaned into his ear, Jax grunted as the sweet sound reached his brain.

His breath caught in his throat as you contracted around him, "fuck."

His fingers sped up further, "come on, give me one more." You were powerless to deny him, your nails digging into this skin as you peeked again.

His teeth met your neck as he came inside you, he was breathing heavily, his forehead pressed to yours. "Shit I missed you."

You lifted your hand, brushing hair off his face, "I missed you too." You rubbed your noses together, Jax smiling softly, "I love you."

"I love you too beloved." Jax got up and got a cloth to clean you up, throwing the blanket over you once you returned from the bathroom.

"Are you packed for the lockdown tomorrow?"

You nodded, "all packed, I've basically got an OR in my bag."

He laughed softly, "it will all be over soon and things will calm down. Nothing else is going to happen to you, I promise."

You nodded and kissed his neck, rolling over to lay your head on his chest, "I know, we're all going to be ok."

****

There was a rush to get to the Clubhouse; you, Lyla and Ima arrived a little early to help with the food and drink. Soon enough, the Clubhouse was full of people and music was playing over the speakers.

Jax signalled for the music to be cut off and Tig yelled out, "EVERYBODY, LISTEN UP." Clay walked to the middle of the room and cleared his throat, "I wanted to welcome you all to Club Reaper, I'm glad you made your reservations early because as you can see, we're all full."

He continued talking up the Club and after the show with Jacob Hale's office, everyone was supportive. With a shout and a round of applause, they left for the chapel.

The plan was simple, convince the Irish that Hayes and his kid were the rats and not Chibs. Next was talking to Weston, it took all of Jax's self-control not to kill the man the moment he saw him.

"It seems your great white hope only cares about one colour, green. He's dealing heroin with the Calaveras."

Weston screwed his face up after Opie made a comment about the guns, "you're talking out of your ass."

Jac shook his head, "I followed Zobelle and some of his guys, they met with Salazar and left with a duffle of heroin." The conversation went on, becoming more and more heated, then Opie was pulling Jax away.

"Say hi to your kids for me."

*****

To say O'Phelan was unimpressed was an understatement, he was already in shit with the kings but his right-hand man turning rat was just the time of the iceberg. Needless to say, he caved to SAMCRO's demands without protest.

He had to come up with a plan so he didn't face the same wrath that Hayes was going to, it was just a matter of how he was going to swing it.

*****

"Hey Kip, how are you feeling."

He had stopped by the Clubhouse to get something to eat with his medication, "disappointed."

You put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry it turned out like that, medical technology is always adapting and advancing soon enough, the VA will be signing you up for another kind of implant. It's just a matter of waiting."

He nodded, "I don't know if I want one, I thought it would change how I felt about getting blown up but other than looking differnt, I felt the same."

You nodded, "all that matters is that you're happy."

To your surprise he hugged you, "thank you, for you know, always being nice to me."

You returned the hug in earnest "no worries Eddie."

****

To Weston's rage, they were right. After killing everyone at the warehouse, he went off to get revenge for all the lies he was told. But Polly pointed a gun at his face and he didn't get his righteous vengeance.

To make matters worse, he was called to the station, his children were being taken from him.

Jax was there when he arrived, standing off the side smugly. "I see your kids are taking that little trip I arranged."

Weston managed to keep his anger under control, "son of a bitch, you wanna kill me, time and place."

Jax smirked, "access road, timberland, eight o'clock, your ten best against mine."

Jax got within breathing distance of him, "either you or me, goes home in a bag."

"I'll be there."

****

Jax breathed a sigh of relief, even after Chibs and Jimmy'o butted heads, they still got their guns and went to put the rest of their plan in motion. ATF showed up right on time, looking around for the Irish and their guns, they found nothing but two deads rat in a crate.

"Can we go now?"

Bobby snarked, "maybe we should wait for gold PD, file some assault charges."

Just before they left, Chibs sat a bloody mouthful on the floor, "you hit like a girl."

****

Everyone was standing in the lot, you were talking to Jax in a hushed tone, "do whatever you need to do to come back to me my love."

He nodded, kissing you softly, "everything's going to be ok." With one last kiss, he left you a climbed on his bike, your brother giving you a soft nod as if to say, I'll look after him.

Gemma pulled you, Lyla and Ima into her arms, kissing Lyla and Ima on the cheek, "it will be alright. Let's get everyone inside."

****

The sun had set by the time they got out there, the air was buzzing with tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. It was just like they had expected with the Ayrayns pulled up, there was way more than ten of them and they were armed to the teeth.

"Whatever happened to ten on ten, no weapons?"

Weston snarled, "fair is for losers, I'd like to win."

Jax smirked, "yeah me too." He waved his head and Tig whistled, then Niners, Mayans and the triads were coming out of the bushes just as armed.

"Put your weapons down."

Weston signalled and the guns were dropped, "let's just stick to the plan."

With a war cry, the two sides met. It was a bloody fight, blows were traded back and forth and the sound of fists hitting flesh filled the air. Jax considered snapping Weston's neck, Sam had shown him how to do it with speed and precision but he thought back to what he had added on at the end.

"I don't like to do it that often."

"Why?" Sam smiled.

"Because it's very quick."

Just as Jax felt some kind of relief from his burning rage, the cops showed up, "this isn't finshed." Weston took the shove, "I'm not going anywhere."

Hale was angry but let them go, so they put the second part of their plan in motion and headed to Zobelle's. The place was a bit of a mess when they got there, Unser was already waiting in the store, the windows having been broken by angry residents.

It didn't seem like Zobelle was there at first but after Clay put a gun to his daughter's neck, he came from the back, "Poly, Poly." Tig grabbed his and Opie pulled him in front of Clay.

"What do you want?"

Clay sounded calm, "to talk, outside Charming."

But Zobelle wasn't having it, "if you want to kill me, do it here on Mainstreet." Clay was fine with that, shoving Zobelle to his knees.

Then Hale showed up, his chest puffed out. "I got this deputy, there's been no crime here." Hale looked over the scene, after a moment of thought, he turned on his heel and started to leave.

"Officer, my daughter and I are in possession of illegal narcotics. There's a load of them under that cash register in the centre drawer." The officer looked under the drawer and pulled out a foil-wrapped block.

"It's here."

Zobelle yelled his demand, "there arrest us, do it." Hale hauled Zobelle onto his feet, the other snarling at him as they were walked out. Jax leaned in close just before they left.

"We're going to kill you." He meant it with every fibre of his being.

Part 33

I hope everyone liked it, it's another chapter that's a bit all over the place but if I included every plot point in each episode, it would will a million words long. Season 2 concludes next chapter.

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hyperfixation-hideout · 6 months

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The fact that there was no post credit scene is kinda sad, why not have a quick little look at the reno team or see how qrows doing. We’ve spent the entire volume in the neverafter but we barley touched on the entire thing going on with sending the majority of a cities population into another part of the world. Hell the characters don’t even mention it

I felt the same way when the finale aired, especially since Oscar is my special interest, but also because ending v9 without the reunion felt wrong to me and unsatisfying.

HOWEVER, after seeing the clip of the storyboarded post-credits scene, I'm kinda glad they're gonna have more time to tweak it, as the reactions felt lukewarm and ooc at times (Qrow and his nieces just casually smiling at each other for a sec??? He thought they were DEAD!!!) Tbf it did seem a lot changed since they made that storyboard, though, considering it had them arrive in Vacuo via Raven's portal, which was not present in v9, so maybe they knew they were coming? Idk

I get they wanted a contained vol for this arc, but I can't help but feel it would've fit more cohesively at a different point in the story. Then again, having it right after Atlas' fall does put them in a heightened emotional state that was key to the volume. (As you can see, I have mixed feelings despite enjoying most of the volume :P) As you mentioned, they could've done a lot more with having them reflect on Atlas' fall. They make comments here and there, but don't really delve into it much or come away with new conclusions/viewpoints, at least that I've gleaned. Weiss especially I wish had more dedicated time to sort through her feelings about Atlas. Her monologue early in the vol was a great and promising start! It just didn't go anywhere (or at least, not far enough for me). Plus I wish it'd been clearer that Jaune killing Penny had been communicated to Ruby, or that she got to bring it up, even if the writers didn't wanna have her be mad at him or anything.

The finale in general was underwhelming (and frankly disappointing) for me considering how great the volume had been, though I understand they intended the vol to be longer and likely had to cut a lot. I do maintain that ending it without the reunion left it feeling open-ended, like a continuation of the arc -- not so much a cliffhanger as the last couple volumes (which were well done, to be clear!), but not as much a conclusion as, say, volume 5's finale -- ending on the reunion would've been a lovely bit of closure for the Atlas chapter of their journey.

All I can hope now is we don't brush past what OLVE went through during the timeskip, and that we still get to explore the effects of v8 on those characters & the furthering of the character arcs prominent in v8. I worry with SO many characters in one place, we won't be able to focus enough time for that (and it'll be hard to do without feeling like the audience is simply "catching up"), but given how central and/or pivotal the character arcs of those in OLVE were in Atlas, I imagine we won't be dropping those threads.

#rwby meta #rwby volume 9 #rwby9 #crtq #rwde #not rude rwde but analysis rwde #you get the drill lol it's for ppl who wanna blacklist crit posts :)#quinanswer #Anonymous #quinpost

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steddiebang · 1 year

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Hi mods! I have a question regarding the fic claims for artists. Do you already have a plan on how that's going to happen? Will each artist hand in a list with faves and you mods assign fics and artists OR is it going to be on first come first serve basis? I'd kinda like to know before signing up bc i cannot get up in the middle of the night to claim my preferred fic in time due to timezones differences. 🙂

We've done claims for past bangs and used the first-come, first-serve method, so we're planning to stick with that this time around. We absolutely get that it can be difficult (especially in wildly different time zones from the bang!) to be able to make it at a specific time - and those of you who have participated in bangs before know that during claims, fics can be snapped up really, really quickly. (I've been in bangs before where almost all fics were claimed within the first hour of claims opening! It was wild.)

However, while there are definitely pros to having artists email in their lists for mods to arrange teams, it's just not something either of us feel will work best for this bang. Claims are still a ways off, so obviously we can't say for certain we won't change our minds on that, but for right now, we're planning for the first-come, first-serve method.

As for specifically how claims will work, our plan is outlined below. Keep in mind that claims are in June, so we might update or shift this around as needed.

Authors will submit their fics to be claimed starting June 3 via Google Form. Mods will add their claim submission info to a slidedeck, which we will send out to artists to preview during the week of June 5 - 9. We will continue to accept fic submissions through June 9, and close the form late evening on that day.

On June 10, artist claims will open. We have not yet decided the exact time, as it will depend on mod schedules (since we will be very busy during claims) and what time works best for any overlapping time zones. It will likely be morning or early afternoon CST. Artists will have a Google Form they will use to submit their top five (potentially seven, if we get a lot of project submissions!) choices to claim. Since claims will work on a first-come, first-serve basis, artists will be assigned their first choice if it hasn't yet been claimed, their second if their first has already been taken, and so on. If all of their choices have been claimed, they'll be asked to resubmit a list with different choices, until they claim a fic.

We will likely do different "rounds" of claims to allow for artists to claim multiple fics (if they want) and to make sure all fic projects are claimed. First round would allow all bang artists to claim any fic, second round would allow all bang artists to claim any remaining unclaimed fic (even if they've already claimed a project), third round (if needed) would allow pinch hitters and non-bang artists to claim any remaining unclaimed fic. We will likely also do a quick bonus round of claims where we will open up all fics, regardless of if they have already been claimed, to be double-claimed (e.g. two artists on the same project). That would only happen if we get all projects claim - we're of the "everyone gets a plate before anyone gets seconds" mindset for claims.

Once again, all of this is still up in the air, since we're a few months out from claims. We're flexible on making sure they work for everyone, but this method has worked for us in the past to ensure all projects got claimed.

UPDATE: We forgot that one way bangs have mitigated the time zone issue is by offering artists the option to find a proxy claims submitter. They would have another bang artist, usually someone who lives in a closer time zone, submit their claims choices on their behalf. We’ll add a discord channel to request this as we get closer to claims.

#mod answer #steddiebang23

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neodarkdark · 10 months

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Okay so I was thinking about the dash game I posted earlier (the what's peculiar about your soul one). The your soul is bleeding. Almost every time I've done that quiz that's the result he got and I was never sure what to think of it (except maybe the last sentence or two) so I don't think I posted it.

It is bleeding all the time. Sometimes it’s a gentle, almost unnoticeable trickle. Other times, it drips from your display and floods onto the carpet. It frequently needs to be dealt with- wounds that never seem to heal must be resutured and rebandaged.

Bro, like, there is some terrible thing here that won't heal. It's pretty nasty. and also dramatic. I didn't associate this kind of dramatic imagery with Svern, especially not one that revolves around being in so much hurt. Maybe that's a leftover from early on when I wanted him not to have any big dramatic trauma that was the reason he became a villain character, and before I fully worked in all the smaller things that damaged him in other ways.

Actually he is always hurt and in his main verse he never heals.

You are screaming. You are in agony. Every twitch sends another rocket of white hot pain through you.

Again this was difficult for me to associate with him because so much of Svern's deal is that he Doesn't suffer. Not recognisably so. Mentally and physically he can tolerate way more than most people because he doesn't process things the same way as most people. He didn't build this up, it's inbuilt, so considers himself mentally indestructible in a way. Even if he was in agony, would it get such a reaction out of him when his natural state is not reacting?

Nevertheless the source of this apparent resilience is inextricably entwined with and almost the same as the source of the wounds that won't heal.

That aside though, there's another thing that makes me tie this to mainverse specifically. That's the Shadow Crystal. The Shadow Crystal is what wrecks any future chance of Svern experiencing growth or healing because it locks him into a static state of ecstasy. Meaningless ecstasy, and one that only has destructive outcomes, but to someone who was only ever apathetic and who lacks fixed morals that's like. He's totally fine with that.

The problem is that eventually that will give way to agony. By that point it will be long beyond the point of no return and any possible fixes will be a dream in the past. There will just be powerless regret.

You assumed life after death would be painless. You assumed incorrectly.

This result is a bad end Svern description. Part of the reason Svern is able to have a devil may care attitude is because he doesn't care much whether he lives or dies, he's not afraid of dying, because of two reasons. One being his typical lack of fear and the other his inability to find meaning in being alive, the inevitability of death both being something not to be afraid of since it's, y'know inevitable, and to him it's a relief sometime in the future. To put it this way, Svern doesn't feel strongly enough on it that he'd ever be looking to die, but if it happened, he wouldn't be sad about it. Living is a chore to him.

The Shadow Crystal takes this future relief from him (he doesn't know it yet) and in exchange gives him a seemingly inexhaustible source of wonder, joy, feeling. Svern doesn't know! He doesn't know. He's too caught up in the meaningless ecstasy in the present. He gladly wastes his life on it since otherwise he'll just be struggling to continually find things that make living less of a drag anyway.

Problem is that now when he dies he won't get to actually pass on because he's stuck as something tied to the Shadow Crystal (and that underlying the Shadow Crystal). And he'll probably be okay for a while. But eventually even that ecstasy is going to wear off and he'll have to face an indefinite and still empty existence. And that will be agony.

All the unpleasant things he thought he could shed when he kicked the bucket are going to hang over his head because the option of moving on was taken from him (he handed it away thoughtlessly), and he never learned how to heal it because he spent all his existence either ignoring or feeding into it, and so now he just can't. And also, once he has to be aware of it, the stuff he's tied himself to itself can only breed negative emotions, so is only capable of worsening it even more. And it will make it worse, because that's what it does.

I don't know if he will end up screaming about it, but it will be an extremely unpleasant situation, so the result is way more apt than I realised.

#ask to tag #girl What do i tag this as.#boredom is so terrible like a dread disease (headcanon)

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bmacreadz · 1 year

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"The Prison Healer" by Lynette Noni

I am wholly stunned and in awe at "The Prison Healer." It's saturated with romance, suspense, friendship, heartache, and mystery. I'm going to do my best to avoid spoilers as I unload everything that is this thrill of a story.

"The Prison Healer" follows Kiva, a seventeen year-old healer at the notorious prison of Wenderall known as Zalindov. The entire story takes place within the prison and the author so graciously included maps to everything, that I referenced several times throughout reading.

Kiva has done her best to stay alive within the prison for ten years, and in doing so, she's made some enemies. However, this story also introduces her to a cast of characters that soon become essential to her survival in the prison, despite Kiva's attempts to remain isolated. I loved reading these characters together so much. Tipp, Naari, Mot, Rooke... Jaren. The author wrote them and their relationships with each other incredibly well, and I would not want to imagine this story continuing on without any of them. I don't know how to explain it, but the whole dynamic just worked. It was the best group of characters together that I've read in a long time.

I won't give anything away, I promise, but I will say that not everything is as it seems in this book. "The Prison Healer" was full of twists and provided a genuinely thrilling experience for this reader. There were some things I suspected fairly early on, but other things that completely blew my mind. By the final page, I was thoroughly shocked, and my mind was reeling with all the possibilities that could come from these new revelations. I cannot wait to see what happens in book two, "The Gilded Cage." (It's supposed to be arriving at my house THURSDAY, which seems way too long for me to sit with all of this. I can't imagine having read this when it first came out.)

On another note, I love romance novels - especially fantasy romance novels. There is a much larger story brewing beneath the surface in "The Prison Healer," but I was pleasantly surprised that it wasn't lacking in the romance like I initially thought it would be. A bit of foreshadowing makes me believe that romance will be a key element in the sequels, and I'm ready for it. We all know I love Happily-Ever-Afters and I'm hoping beyond hope that this series turns out in my favor.

The writing itself was phenomenal. The story flowed seamlessly and I respect that Lynette Noni was able to keep me so interested with such a "small" setting to the story. Her timing was spot-on, her twists came out of nowhere, and she answered the right questions without overloading the reader with extraneous information that didn't matter to the story. I thought Kavi to be a little naïve at times, but I never got annoyed with her and that's all because of the author. This story was also written from a third-person perspective, which I'm usually indifferent to, but I think it worked supremely well here.

I genuinely liked everything about "The Prison Healer." It's unique and I definitely think more people should be talking about it, which means yes, I highly recommend reading it! I haven't read the other books yet, but I believe it's only going to get better from here - and only a lot more interesting.

A special thanks to @wellwhatisnttaken for recommending this book to me! You definitely hit your target with this one, and I'm so glad to dive into this story.

#book review #the prison healer #lynette noni

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lo1k-diamonds · 3 months

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Carnation 💜 Chapter 1

PAIRING: idol!Jin x OC

SUMMARY: In early 2018, BTS were at a crossroads: after working so hard to set foot in the music industry of South Korea, their sudden jump into stardom became something they never anticipated. Jin believed in his dongsaengs but was just as lost as them when his soulmate entered the picture.

WORD COUNT: 3.3k (Total: 25.3k)

GENRE: Soulmate AU, s2l

RATING: Teen (for drinking, cussing and tension)

WARNINGS: mild angst for talks of disbanding and burnout

(You can also read it on AO3, originally posted June 2023)

A.N. I have this poll I've been meaning to do about my soulmate series and to do so, I thought I should probably introduce those stories first 😅😋Jin's story is the first of the Soul Palette Series though it serves as a prequel to Call You Mine. I'm thinking of uploading each story's 1st chapter to give you all a taste 😋

Masterlist | Scroll my stories on Tumblr | Schedule and WIPs

“ARMY! I remember early this year. We were mentally struggling at the beginning of the year. While talking amongst ourselves, we even considered disbanding. I’m relieved that we got ourselves together and were able to bring good outcomes. I want to thank our members who helped me get myself together and the ARMYs who love us. Thank you so much. ” Jin, MAMA, 2018

January 3rd 2018

“It’s hard… It’s really hard.”

Jimin’s words were lost in the silence of the room as the seven Bangtan members looked either at the floor or at nowhere in particular while they went over everything that had been said.

Jungkook never knew anything else but that life with his brothers and had stated very clearly that he wanted to fight until he couldn’t breathe or move anymore. His passion was only matched by his perseverance because they all knew how hard he had it, how tough it was, and the sacrifices he had to make growing up totally lined up for that life only. It didn’t make the others feel particularly better, but they understood his feelings.

Taehyung was teary-eyed and looking at a random place on the wall. He was quiet, he had the tendency to turn inwards when he was facing something extremely difficult. He admitted he was unhappy with the constant pressure that sometimes felt like a gag, with the continual invasion of privacy, with the lack of control over what the future looked like.

Jimin understood his feelings and agreed. He pointed out the only silver lining — the ARMYs who supported them unconditionally and had done so from the start.

“It feels somehow… like a failure, to disappoint them like this,” Yoongi had quietly answered then. “Because we fought so desperately to be worthy of their love, and now that it’s getting so big… it risks being too much.”

“I feel so ungrateful, seriously,” Hoseok had said in contempt of himself, hiding his face.

“They would understand,” Namjoon said.

Their leader was sitting on a table, stiff body clearly physically fighting that difficult topic with all its might. He would usually give them the stability they needed but at the expense of his own insecurities and doubts.

Yoongi had expressed he wanted to make music, purely and simply. “After all this time… I can’t see myself without BTS. We’re family, you are family to me.”

“Ah seriously,” Hoseok complained, cleaning his tears as were all others, to one degree or another.

“Hyung,” Taehyung complained.

“You choose to tell us your heart right now?” Jimin added, cleaning his eyes.

“Of course right now, keep going Yoongi,” Jin enthused, and Yoongi nodded with a small smile.

“My heart… would be incomplete without you guys. It would get lonely, in the studio too. My music… would get quiet without you guys. But I won't pressure you, because you’re so precious to me. I just want you to be happy.”

“Hyung—” Jungkook’s voice vanished in tears.

“We’re happy by your side,” Taehyung cried, hiding his face.

“We’re family, that will never change,” Namjoon declared, sniffling right after.

“But can we keep giving a perfect performance?” Hobi’s jaw was a firm line as he suppressed his emotions to be able to ask them clearly. “Can we keep this up? Because I’m not sure what I fear most: disappointing ARMYs, or disappointing ourselves.”

“It’s hard… It’s really hard.”

And now, there they were, staring at each other quietly. Until Jin decided to smile and say something, seeing that even Namjoon was stumped in his own thoughts.

“We should all sleep on it and not decide anything immediately. We started this together, we can decide this together. Tomorrow we can talk better about this.”

“But… we’re not disbanding, right?” Jungkook asked, voice shaking as he eyed his hyungs anxiously.

“No.”

“No, we’re not,” Hobi smiled.

“We’re talking and we should think about this. Jin-hyung is right,” Namjoon said, getting up. “We can think of ways that could make this work and of how to better ourselves. If we decide to disband, it won't be for lack of trying to figure this out.”

Every member got up except for Jin, who stayed behind sitting on a chair while everyone passed by him, and Namjoon, who heaved a deep breath and hid his face, the pressure finally cracking through. Jin could read his tension and stress like one reads the time on a clock, and as usual, he felt for Namjoon. He was the leader and felt like he was failing them at a deeply personal level, and it was so hard for him. He could act tough and provide everyone with the smarts needed, but deep down he was hurting and doubtful.

Jin got up and placed his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, who then raised his head.

“This is not your fault. If anything, you guided us well thus far. You’re also a member of BTS, so go and think about yourself as an individual, as an artist. We’ll talk about this again tomorrow.”

Namjoon rubbed his watering eyes and sucked it all in before nodding. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Of course,” Jin smiled reassuringly. “I’m going for a walk, don't wait up for me.”

“Now?” Namjoon frowned in confusion and Jin scoffed.

“It’s like ten pm, it’s not that late. I’ll be right back.”

He waved Namjoon goodbye quickly after getting ready and rushed out. He needed to breathe as well and the cold new year air would do him some good.

It was hard, it was really hard. However, he felt sort of stuck in a position where he couldn’t say much. Yes, it was hard, but it had always been hard for him.

He was the oldest, not the leader but definitely the one that looked after them from the day he joined. From making sure Namjoon and Yoongi sorted their differences, to scolding Jungkook for staying in his room by himself, to reminding Tae and Jimin to do their homework, to ordering Hoseok to rest or else, to cooking for all of them— He had become the hyung they needed and he was very thankful he did. He would have never become who he was today otherwise.

But giving and taking care of them was a responsibility, not a chore. What really made it difficult was, well, all the ways he was lacking. He was scouted for his looks, what the heck was that worth?

He chuckled as he made his way down the street to his favorite park. His freaking looks when the others were rappers, lyricists, producers, dancers, and singers. Sure he thought he could act, but that didn't measure up to the others.

So he was always behind and that was really hard. He was the hyung, he had to set an example, but he was lacking in every single aspect of what would make a valuable member. But he tried. That was it, that's all he did. He heard the hate, the harsh comments, the criticism, and he agreed. He was behind, he was slower, he wasn't sharp, he had less vocal range, he—

He sighed, it was hard. But for them, he tried. He wasn't perfect, he was still lacking, but he had worked hard to improve in every way. He had to do it to be able to even show his face to his precious dongsaengs.

So now what?

He didn't want to yell at them for giving up when he had tried so hard, but a minuscule part of him wanted to. Not because his own work would go to waste, he was a better man now than he could have ever hoped to become, but because if they didn't deserve the hype, the praise, and love, then who the hell did?

No one deserved it more than them, absolutely no one! That was what truly made him mad — for all the bullshit they had to take, they deserved every fan, praise, award, and gentleness. They were incredibly talented and kind human beings, he believed they had so much more to do still. So why not stay together?

Was that selfish of him? Sure, every single one of them individually could achieve greatness, be it as musicians, artists, actors, what have you. But he… he loved being with them, being in the group. That life, that family, he didn't want to let it go. He didn't want it to end.

The end was… suffocating. He knew it would come one day, whether now or later, and in many ways it was healthy to debate the end and choose to continue. Only then could everyone be on the same page and happy with the future. But damn was it suffocating. It was worse than letting go of a first love, it was like cutting off a limb. He couldn’t live without them.

They had all done so much. He had managed to graduate from university while shooting and promoting and it had been the most draining experience yet. But he couldn’t hold them back, 2017 was the year of breakthroughs, of pioneering and his degree was in many instances not a priority at all.

They finished the Wings tour while already preparing for the Love Yourself phase, where they finally had nearly full control of the full artistic process. He was so looking forward to it, it spoke of their fears and wishes to a visceral level. It was their message, ideology, and the footprint they would leave behind. Hopefully, if it was worth it, their legacy. They had to go through with it, the world had to see it.

But in order to go through with it, they had to decide. If the company was to schedule the world tour for the second half of the year then they had to commit. They couldn’t announce projects and concerts and then fall through. And that was where all problems started.

It was just too hard. They had fought so hard to have a spot in the limelight, but now they were basically being thrust into it successively and carelessly.

Of course they never knew it would get this big, so at first it just sounded good, a worthwhile opportunity to do more, to reach further, to spread their positive message. UNICEF heard of the ‘Love Yourself’ message and one domino pushed the other. They just couldn’t refuse to use their voice for the greater good. They dedicated themselves to spreading the message, creating merch to donate to the cause, and to making ARMY proud. And in return, ARMY helped them reach new heights.

With every award, from Best in Music at the 9th annual Shorty Awards to Top Social Artist at the 2017 Billboard Music Awards, they had hoped to bring someone closer to peace, fend off loneliness, and have more people enjoying their vibe. They were the first K-pop group to enter the Billboard Hot 100 with a single, 'DNA', and album, 'Love Yourself: Her'. They were thankful to their fans, who gave BTS the opportunity to be at the Billboard Music Awards in what was their first television appearance in the US, so later when they were asked to perform, they said yes. BTS was the first K-pop act to perform at the American Music Awards with DNA, and from then on the ball kept rolling. They filmed so many shows, Jin wasn’t quite sure what was what and when. And now they were just back from performing at Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve in Times Square, New York, and they couldn’t stop. The next phase was here, not even a week of rest and they were back in the company deciding things and planning. It was exhausting, hallucinating, frightening and that was why they were at the rope’s end.

The company wanted to profit from the wave, the producers wanted recognition, the fans wanted them to achieve new unsurmountable records every day and meanwhile, BTS was just left exhausted, trying to not bite off more than they could chew. Now the opportunity had turned into a heavy constant pressure on their neck that they couldn't shake off. They couldn’t say no, that would be spitting back at ARMYs, that could never be. It was just… hard.

He knew it was, he could see how draining it was but… he still wanted to push through. He didn’t know how exactly and that was what he needed to figure out, because as their hyung—

He suddenly stopped his thoughts and looked around, confused. Yes, he was there at Yeouido Hangang Park as was normal for him when he strolled. It was maybe ten thirty in the evening now, but the street lights made it look almost like daytime. There was no crowd at that hour, but there were still a fair amount of people either coming off work or going to work, or drunk after dinner or going to have dinner. He looked at those people passing him by from where he was seated on a bench and he wondered what was wrong with him. Clearly, everything else seemed normal.

Then what the hell was that hum? He looked down at his own chest and laughed in disbelief at himself. His chest was buzzing, almost vibrating. It was so comical, was he finally losing it with the stress? Was he sitting there, wondering about ways to help the members while his own body was calling it quits?

Tears came to his eyes, he was touched so deeply the hairs on his neck stood on end. He was definitely not above crying, that was not an issue for him if that would release his stress, but that was when he realized he didn’t feel stressed. No, the buzzing hum was warm and soft and gentle, like perfume, and he got up from the bench and started looking around.

Why was he looking around when everything looked absolutely normal and that feeling was deeply sprouting out from his chest? No idea. He just had to go, there was something he needed to find. If there was a perfume, there had to be a flower, right?

There was this unmistaken breeze guiding him somewhere, he felt like a paper wind vane being blown on in a specific direction, but he couldn’t see anything that—

He froze with wide eyes just looking at the woman rushing towards him like a gust of wind. He was standing right in her way, they were on a collision course, but she was looking down while utterly absorbed in the phone call she was having. That’s when he thought, Jin you idiot, you should have been listening, not looking.

The corners of his lips rose the second he predicted she would crash into him, which he absolutely wanted for some reason, but she subverted his expectations. His features went from cheeky to slumped when she dodged him expertly and just walked right past him without even looking up.

He turned to widen his eyes at her in a complaint, but she was walking steadily and quickly away without looking back. Well, he scoffed, how could she just focus so hard on her call or whatever that she didn’t see him standing right in her way? One should pay attention to their surroundings instead of—

He gasped, Wait!

It had to be her, there was no mistaking the happiness in his heart making it bounce around inside his chest. The wind was blowing him in her direction, it was her. Her, huh? He grinned widely in the last meters to get to her, he couldn’t believe he had found her.

He grabbed her hand and she immediately turned around with shock on her face. She had been saying something on the phone, but she was now muted just staring at him with big wide eyes.

He could tell her eyes were big and expressive just at that moment, but he wondered how they would look when she smiled. Her cheeks were pink from the start of the year cold, and the little cloud of steam in front of her small heart-shaped mouth as she breathed was freakishly cute. Her long brown hair was tied in a ponytail and her jacket covered her almost to her knees, not letting him actually see much of her.

He caressed her hand with his thumb gently as he smiled at her, giving her time to come to the same realization as him — this was it. Meanwhile, a tingly sensation was shooting up his arm and filling him with an indescribable euphoria that just confirmed his belief. His eyes were shining as his lips curved in a smile full of endearment.

Yet she was just shocked, staring at him. She had felt the breeze playing with her feelings, but she thought it was the stress, the burnout, so she just focused on getting home. But that tingly sensation… it had to be, right?

But how could it be him?! He was gorgeous, what the heck was that? It was hard enough to believe they had just crossed paths like that at Yeouido Hangang Park (what were the chances?!), but how could he be so… beautiful? Symmetrical? Proportional? Flawless?

Was he real? Was he a painting? A doll? Was he just a dream? Was she dreaming?

“What’s your name?”

Her brain short-circuited. “I’ll call you back,” she murmured without thinking, putting the phone down instantly.

His voice was beautiful too, but that wasn’t possible. None of that could be happening to her, how could destiny do that to her?

“Jaehwa,” she breathed, still quite unsure if she was dreaming, and kind of hoping she was.

He smiled but looked down, he was seemingly shy yet meanwhile she could only focus on his pouty lips. He looked so adorab—

What the hell was she thinking?!

“My name is Jin. Kim Seokjin.”

She nodded, still with wide eyes though now they were staring at his chest as if she couldn’t face him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, raising their hands still clasped together in between them.

She blinked, a deep shade of crimson spreading on her cheeks. She could barely breathe, this wasn’t natural. What was he, a reincarnated prince?!

She stammered, “I’m… I’m not sure about what’s happening.”

“I think we’re soulmates,” he told her calmly, like a summer breeze whispering a secret. She felt a shudder, that was not possible. How could he feel so… intimate with her, like they had no secrets, when she just met him. “You know, tingling sensation and all.”

She swallowed hard, refusing to blush even more, then she bit her lip. Right. She couldn’t even bring herself to walk away, no matter how incredulous she was. She couldn’t rationalize her way around that feeling, and her skin was still humming all the way to her chest now. Her heart was reveling in the feeling as if she had been waiting all along. Well, maybe he was right. It was absolutely impossible and ridiculous but… maybe?

She took a deep breath and adjusted her coat around her neck, preventing the cold from slipping in, and to do so she had to let go of his hand.

“This will sound weird but… would it be okay if I just gave you my number?” She asked and he blinked his long eyelashes in surprise. “I’m sorry, I’m just really tired and I fear I’m just hallucinating this whole thing.”

He chuckled, “I see, I understand. We’re both quite tired, I think.”

She looked up at him — he did look tired with dark circles around his eyes, despite his smile.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, “How about you give me your number and I message you in the morning? Then you know if you got a message, it’s because it’s real and this really happened.”

Her eyebrows furrowed for a second before she nodded curtly, “Fine, that sounds good.”

You can go here to keep reading [ao3] (this story is finished) 💜

#Soul Palette - Soulmate AU Series #bts fanfic #bts #bts imagines #ao3 fanfic #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fanfiction carnation #bts jin #kim seokjin #bts angst #jin fanfic #jin fluff #bts soulmate au #soulmates #lo1k-diamonds writes 💎

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