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sprinklesandshatters · 3 years

Text

A Review on NCT 127′s 3rd Album <Sticker>

So NCT 127 just came back with their 3rd Full Album <Sticker> and this is my first 127 comeback since I became a fan last year! Neozone is such a special album for me as it was their first album that I explored entirely. I've known NCT as the group who never fails any expectations so I've kept mine up although I know they'll exceed it anyway. And guess what, they did! I absolutely love their new album hence this review~

This isn't a technical music review—as I am not a musician myself—but rather a listener's honest takes, goofy notes, and interpretation on each of the tracks in the album. I admit I've also struggled to build my own opinions on some of the tracks until I listened to them over and over again.

I have also heard there are mixed opinions on the title track <Sticker> and a lot says it's another acquired taste. But I think it's not just that, as it can be a grower, just like how most of NCT's songs were for me. Maybe after a few listens and a right passage of time, it will grow on those people. The bottom line here is, I like it a lot! 😛

So I listed down the songs according to their respective track numbers and followed each with a bulleted list of my opinions and interpretations.

(Viewer/reader discretion: before you continue, minors, do not interact as there are few 18+ contents under the cut. Thank you.)

1. Sticker

THEY DIDN'T JUST PUNCH A NEW NOTCH ON THE BELT LIKE THAT

THIS SONG SLAPS, LITERALLY SLAPS… AND WHIPS

The recorder at the intro boyyyy I thought something was wrong but then I remember it’s NCT lmao

It already stuck in my head from my first listen from the Instagram audio.

With Taeyong opening the verse with his divine rapping, I knew I'm in for a new ride.

STICK-UH STICK-UGH STICK-UGHGHGH

To those complaining it sounding like noise music, imagine it sounding generic. I don't think it would fit as the title track. Not a b-track or in their repertoire, even. They are called NCT because they define the NEO in the music culture and music technology!

It honestly was an unorthodox, just like all of their title tracks, which I’m inherently here for.

Literally, no one does it like them!

The growls and the vocal flexes and adlibs! (You can tell it has Yoo Youngjin's brand.)

The crisp metronome sound that’s consistently ticking except for the pre-chorus and the dance break adds depth to the soundscape. I love how it’s used instead of the usual snaps.

The production quality blew my mind. Like how can someone think those melodies would sound so exquisite? CAN I CALL THEM GENIUS?

The piano at the back, oh my God—Yes! It adds this mystifying element to the song.

I'm not sure if it's a midi violin at the pre-chorus, but it added thrill to the song. It was a great transition from the bass line in the verses to the combination of the flawless harmony with the same instrumental.

"You treat me like a boy, like a grown-up child chasing a dream" JUNGWOO BABY NO MORE HUH

Taeil, Doyoung, and Haechan—the bridge vocal trinity!

But why the heck are they cowboys? I dig the concept, but why? LMAO

BTW GUNSLINGER MARK I’M ON MY KNEES YEEHAW

This is easily one of my favorite tracks from NCT 127's entire discography 💚

2. Lemonade

(⌐■_■)

Jaehyun starting off this song with his deep voice eee

The song opens to a verse oozing with chill confidence. They're like, yeah you're lurking because we’re cool.

This is such a huge slap to their haters. NCT's not chillin' like a villain, nah they're the main characters!

Well maybe they’re villains, but still ya not cooler than them ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Funny enough how they could have just referred haters as simply lemons whose sour/bitter to the taste, but 127 squad's success is sweeter than all the haters' spiteful remarks so yeah, SIPPY SIPPY LEMONADE 🧃

"WOOF"

I might have just barked too wOW

Yuta’s vocals hooooO his voice just sounds so glamorous mhmm

Also Mark referencing their previous title tracks such as: Firetruck, Cherry Bomb, and Regular (it's Irregular in the lyrics) in his rap part 👌💅

I just love Mark's energy when he raps. HE RESOLUTELY BITES AND STRAIGHT UP EATS EVERY TIME HE DOES.

3. Breakfast

Now breakfast time, oh jeez!

AAAHAHFU—

Summer 127's bestie!

If Summer 127 talks about dancing all night long, Breakfast is the morning after.

You know what it is.

"Even if I gulp and drink you, it's not enough for me." oho Taeyong no you ha—STOP

Sexual innuendos aside, isn't it just sweet if someone tells you they'd want to have breakfast with you every day? Okay maybe I'm melting at the thought 😩🙈💞

And I can see myself dancing to this song as I make breakfast (in the afternoon or at midnight bc I’m crazy)

This was an okay b-track for me at the first skim on the album, but boy it grew on me wildly.

Honestly one of my favorite tracks in this album.

4. Focus

Did I just invade a private call? LMAO

The analog voice filters make it like so.

Dude, this feels intimate in the level of eavesdropping a phone call between seasoned lovers. Then you realize you hear them whispering their kinks over the line and you're ooh, that's sexy! hfgklhfhf

My first listen to this, I almost went feral because,

"I can't wait to eat you…" when it's actually "I can't wait 'til we chill…" aahaha

"Baby call me when you want me." OKAY!

This sounds relaxing and chill. I'd love to play this on a late night drive or just before bed time along with Fly Away With Me, Sun & Moon, My Youth, and Long Flight.

Belongs to ‘make out session’ playlist ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

That was lowkey a playlist recommendation, huh?

I'd be kidding if I don't say I could touch myself while listening to this song AHAHAFGHFJFJ

I didn't know this would grow on me this much lol I love love LOVE THIS!

5. The Rainy Night

Ooh, the holy melancholy!

Piano at the intro—I knew I'd cry to this.

This song isn't just about break-up, but the heartbreak after one.

The yearning; the remnant pieces from the shattering of what was once there.

I think I crumbled from this one.

This hit so hard I felt like I fit in the shoes with the lyrics throughout the entire song.

What’s fascinating is I clearly forgot the title when I mentally said this sounds like a sad rainy day song from the first listen.

Something I’d turn up when it suddenly rains, just because I want to feel the blues.

Taeil and Haechan singing in lower register? I wanna cry :( they’re just one of the best vocalists in K-music industry right now.

Could have been also nice if they added Yuta to the vocals.

"My selfish heart who waits for you to come back," OKAY WHO HURT THEM?

And the fact that they sang it so good that it translated every ounce of the emotions well even before I looked up for English translations is the reason why I love this song too.

6. Far

Hmm… What the hell?! Do I like this? Wait...

Alright!

The jumpy vibe from the first verse to the pre-chorus set the mood for this song. It sounds merry and heavy. It was honestly too much to take until I’ve reached the chorus part.

Honestly, I think this song could fit NCT Dream better, as it gives off a vibe similar to Hello Future's b-tracks. If some credible source say this could have made HF’s track list, I might believe you too fast.

Also Dream’s Deja Vu where they go na nananananana na na na~

Playful yet confident! That’s what I mean!

As usual, the vocals are insane! Vocal flex from left to right!

I swear Jungwoo sounded a bit like Taemin at the second verse that I had to replay it hahaha

I love hearing Johnny as a vocalist! SM, how many signs do you need until you utilize his vocal talent???

Taeil's part where he sings, "go nuts, go nuts, 'til we go bust, go bust" IDEK BUT I SNORTED A LAUGH AT FIRST LISTEN HFCAHKFHK

Not my favorite, but still great though!

But wait it’s actually stuck in my head???

7. Bring The Noize

Yes, they never beat those noise music allegations

HERE'S SOME NOIZE, BITCHES

I love me some noisy percussions. AND THE BASS YO

This screams so much confidence!

The build up from the pre-chorus to the chorus—FIRE!

This song reminds me a lot of SuperM's Super Car, especially with the engine roar samples and the battle cry-like singing at the chorus.

JAEHYUN RAPPING? You mean Jaehyun the visual, the vocalist, the actor, the model, the funny dude, aka my everything?! (markie bb look pls look away for a moment)

THEY DELIVERED IT STRAIGHT FROM NEOCITY THAT'S SOME NCT MUSIC RIGHT THERE NO ONE DOES IT LIKE THEM

When I said I'd play Focus on a late night drive, and if I add this in the playlist, VROOM VROOM SPEED LIMIT WHAT

OUTTA MY WAY

“We got no shame” ouh TAEYONG’S FLOW IS JUST VERY HIM AND HE’S IN A LEAGUE OF HIS OWN

You know what's so clever about this song? It's how it ended with Mark's final rap without any instrumental, leaving you standing there with a doppler effect-like post experience.

A super car on a super speed just whooshed past you and you look its way as it zips through the road. It's gone in an instant but you're floored dumbfounded at a sidewalk. That's how I describe this song.

8. Magic Carpet Ride

This song… Wow. Oh gosh it's so beautiful.

Their harmony in the chorus—it makes me want to kiss someone so passionately that I'd cry.

This makes me want to feel love that transcends the universe. Literally, just please take me on a magic carpet ride :(

The background harmonies too oh my goodness—HEAVENLY.

Jaehyun's voice is so warm and soulful it fits perfectly with songs of this genre.

Okay alright Doyoung Grande!

And Taeil makes me feel like I'm listening to old school R&B.

The first time I heard this from the track video, I can't stop replaying because it's just that great.

This makes me want to love. I think that sums it up.

9. Road Trip

This is such a soothing song for me, especially how I easily become nostalgic thinking about the road trips I've had.

Whenever I listen to this, my brain immediately conjures up thoughts of my ideal getaways. Gazing at the sky through the car window, stirring up from a nap in the middle of the ride, and eventually reaching your destination.

Oh, to travel around anywhere... (curse you covid-19)

Okay that's it. I'M PACKING UP.

But where do I go—

I could also imagine Mark playing this on the guitar and the other members sing along together, something like that.

Just Wholesome™ vibes.

I love how it evokes such a nice emotion within me effortlessly.

This isn't my favorite, but I still love this.

10. Dreamer

Eyyyy such a refreshing song!

This song is so bright it makes me want to dance. I play this first in the shower!

It reminds me so much of Elevator (from Neozone)

The horns make it more lively I think!

Yuta and Jungwoo's voice suits lively songs like this.

The background vocal in low register in Taeyong's part in the first verse is so good ahhfhf

Taeil, the R&B vocal king you are...

There's this part where Doyoung and Johnny harmonized, that at first listen they seemed to clash, but it sounded actually fine after a few listens. Maybe it's just that I've never heard them do it before.

And I think it's Doyoung's laugh at the end of the bridge? Oh my goodness I really love this too!

11. Promise You

MY FIRST LOVE AND MOST FAVORITE SONG IN THE ALBUM!!!

The first time I heard this from their NCIT Sharehouse Sitcom, I fell in love with the song already.

It sounds like something you'd feel from a warm, welcoming hug.

The lyrics are so beautiful and endearing. It's definitely a be-there-for-you type of song that will touch your heart.

It definitely sounds like a promise.

A song about platonic intimacy.

This really fits to be the closing song of the album. It's like the end of it but holds a promise that says “see you soon.”

Because they cherish their fans like that.

It's also like I've watched a movie with a happy ending, where the camera pans up to the clear sky and this song starts playing.

Speaking of ending, I would love to hear them sing this as an encore stage in their concert. You know, that moment just before the stage lights die down at the end of the concert where they send final blows of flying kisses to NCTzens. Then you come home smiling and crying.

This wasn't supposed to be this long since I originally planned to write this with just simple phrases and emojis but I got too engrossed lol. I also meant to include my own ratings but I figured it’s pointless since I can’t really decide about them hahaha

I really enjoyed the whole album and I love how they're progressively defining what NEO means by breaking through standards. It's not NCT music if it doesn't make you say "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?" But then you realize it’s stuck in your head and you’re enjoying it already.

✨ OVERALL RATING: 127/10 💚

if you’ve reached until here, thank you for letting me share you a braincell or two 💞

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akakeiiji · 4 years

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Hi! This is my first time requesting something, i was wondering if you could do headcanons or reactions for Oikawa, Akaashi, Atsumu, sugawara and Nishinoya who have an s/o who is a medical student and works as a paramedic in her free time and tends their injuries after games or durning them, especially oikawa 😔🙏🏻

Omg anon, if this ask is based off of you then you are amazing!! Keep up the great work!

Also I finally broke through my creative block and actually wrote something, I actually finished these hcs a few days ago but my laptop died before I could post so I had to start from scratch huhu (having to start over drained me so much hence why this took so long to post)

✂︎・・・masterlist

-`,✎Oikawa, Akaashi, Atsumu, Sugawara and Nishinoya’s reaction to their S/O tending to their injuries

Oikawa Tooru

Oikawa is the king of overworking himself

Even when he doesn’t have any matches to worry about, he’s in the gym practicing and practicing till he physically can’t anymore

It’s no wonder why he gets injured a lot, he just never knows when to stop

If it weren’t for you his body would be in horrible shape

You always know what to say and do to get him to stop practicing for the day, and you’re always the one tending to his sore and exhausted body ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

He loves flexing you, he needs everyone to know how smart you are

When I say everyone, I mean everyone

You turn around for a bit and he’s suddenly telling the cashier how amazing you are for being a paramedic

Contrary to popular belief, Oikawa is actually very smart so sometimes he’ll study with you in his free time, helping you out by quizzing you and stuff

He studies your material sometimes, idly reading through your papers and textbooks sometimes

He’ll just randomly blurt out random medical facts, which may or may not be a ploy to impress you

One day when it was reaching the end of a match, you could tell that something was wrong with Tooru, it wasn’t obvious but you knew when he was in pain

You internally screamed at him, urging him to sit the rest of the match out but this was Oikawa you were talking about

Luckily the match ended quickly after that with Oikawa’s team winning but he almost collapses from the sheer pain he was feeling on his leg, it had been acting up again from his old injury

You were absolutely livid because it wouldn't have been so bad if he stopped playing when it started hurting but you were too worried to lecture him

There are tears prickling his eyes but he’s still smiling and telling everyone he’ll be okay because you’re there

“They’re the best of best, they’ll be able to help me!”

He’d be bedridden for a while and, of course, you’d be by his side the entire time

You scolded him for an hour and he couldn’t run away so he had to endure it all

For the first few days, everything would be okay, but after a while, he starts getting restless and keeps trying to get up to do things by himself

You would physically restrain him to the bed if you could

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

JUST KIDDING….Unless

He wants nothing more than to go back to training, he’d literally start dreaming about volleyball on some nights

You have to constantly remind him that if he doesn't recover properly he’ll just worsen his leg so that he doesn’t run away while you’re at school or at work

“If it gets worse, they might have to amputate it.”

“What?! You can’t be serious…you’re joking, right?”

Since he can’t go out or train anymore, he spends the rest of his time trying to get your attention

He’s so pouty and whiny, always calling for you for no good reason

While you’re studying in the other room, he’ll suddenly call for you saying he needs you

When you go over to him, he’ll just be like: “I need you~” and you’d have to fight the urge to strangle him

He really just wants your attention, pls help him

In all seriousness though, he’s so thankful to you and truly appreciates what you do

While you’re checking on his leg one day, he’d take your gentle hands in his and pull you in for a hug

“Thank you for putting up with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“…also I need to pee.”

Akaashi Keiji

My son

My precious boy

It pains me to write about him getting hurt

He’s so supportive of you and your studies, he knows how hard studying medicine is

He always checks in on you when you’re studying or working

He’s the type of boyfriend that will give you little snacks while you’re working and remind you to take breaks

Whenever he feels sick or gets hurt, you’re the first one he calls because he trusts you the most and because he knows how capable you are

But this happens very rarely because he’s really careful and knows his limits

During one of his matches though, he suddenly falls over after setting a ball, clutching his leg

He’s immediately rushed over to the infirmary but when they arrive you’re already there wheezing and panting after running all the way there from the bleachers

The nurse tells you that he sprained his ankle pretty badly and that he’d recover just fine but you still felt so bad because you could see how much Akaashi was in pain

I'm legitimately hurting rn while writing this

After getting injured, he starts overthinking so fricking much

He’ll start thinking that he was pulling his team down and begin questioning his skills as a player

You literally have to slap some sense into him or he’ll just drown in his thoughts

You’ll have to cup his face in your hands and urge him to look at you while you tell him how much of an amazing player he is and how injuries like these are inevitable when playing sports

He’ll only start feeling better after this but he still needs a huge dose of your hugs and kisses to fully recover

Out of all the boys, he’s probably the easiest to take care of (he’s prolly tied with Suga)

He’s more obedient and doesn’t mind staying in bed for a long time

But at the same time, he’s so stubborn and says he doesn’t need your help

He just keeps thinking that he’s burdening you while you have so much on your plate

“I don’t need your help, love. I’m completely fine.”

“Keiji, there are literally tears in your eyes.”

He subconsciously gets clingier than usual as the days go by, always trying to get your attention

He isn’t as obvious as other ehem tooru and tries to do so in more subtle ways

Like he’ll just accidentally drop his book and when you go to pick it up he’ll pull you onto the bed and before you know it you’ve been cuddling for two hours straight

The extra affection is his own little way of saying thank you

While you’re checking on his injuries he’ll grab your hand with his and press your knuckles to his lips

“Thank you, love.”

My heart burst

Miya Atsumu

Oikawa part 2 but snarkier

He just doEsn’T kNow whEn to StOP

He always finds some nitty gritty detail he absolutely needs to fix during his regular practice and stays after hours to work on it

He can train for hours without realizing it, before he knows it it’s midnight, he’s the only soul left in the building and his legs are dying

Other times, when you arrive home to find your boyfriend missing, you immediately head over to his gym and drag him home

During a match, he dives down to save a ball only to crash on the ground awkwardly and injure his shoulder

He’s forced to leave the court after failing to convince the referee and his coach that he was fine and he was absolutely livid

Not at them but at himself

He thinks that the injury was a sign that he was slacking off or losing his edge

He goes off on a tangent about how he needs to practice more and how he can’t afford to waste time

Nobody could calm him down until you arrived

After you got there and talked some sense into him, he finally complies and lets himself be lead away to the infirmary

He’s down in the dumps for at least a week, usually found grumbling at the tv, unsure of what to do with this unprecedented free time

But soon after a lot of talks lectures with you and food sent by his brother, he starts going back to his usual old self

He’s absolutely basking in this extra attention from you, he secretly loves being doted on

It used to really irk him when he finds he can’t do certain things with his injury like opening a jar

But once it dawns on him that you’re there, he will totally abuse this just to get your attention and to bother you

“Hey, can you help me open the fridge?”

“You can do that by yourself.”

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WON’T HELP YOUR INJURED BOYFRIEND.”

Whenever you’re checking on his shoulder, he always distracts you by kissing your lips or neck while you’re trying to be a good s/o and it always ends up in a makeout session or more

Because he’s got so much more free time, he’s usually found in your shared apartment, clinging onto you while you’re studying waiting for you to finish

“Are you ready to dote on me?”

“No, be patient.”

“>:’(”

When the doctor tell him he’s fully recovered, the first thing he does is lift you in his arms and twirl you around

Sugawara Koushi

Precious bby

This mama bear rarely gets injured, he’s usually the one nursing others

You two are like this wonderful duo with magic curing hands

He absolutely loves that you’re pursuing your dreams of being in the medical field and low-key shows you off to everyone he knows

Especially to his parents, they love you almost as much as they love him don't tell him that tho

He’s really careful while playing because he hates being in pain, like more so than the average person if you get what I mean

While blocking though, he ends up injuring his wrists from the sheer strength of the spike and the not so ideal positioning of his arms

He has tears in his eyes while he’s being brought to the infirmary and your heart literally broke as you watched from the sidelines

He was stuck with a wrist splint for a couple of weeks

Like Atsumu he constantly needs your help to do mundane things like open cans and such

Unlike Atsumu though, he’s less whiny and more distraught over the fact that he’s always being doted on

He isn’t used to being the one taken care of

He always tries not to burden you and always tries to do things by himself

“Koushi! What was that crash I heard?”

“Nothing! Don’t mind me, just focus on your work.”

“WHY ARE YOU COOKING!?”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, DAMNIT—”

He broke two plates that day trying to make your favorite meal

Apparently cooking with a splint is pretty difficult, he takes note of this

He becomes guilty when you do things like cook and clean, he tries to help as best he can but you always tell him to just sit back and relax but he jUSt cAn’T

He doesn’t want you to worry about stuff like that because you need to study!! He feels so helpless sometimes

While you’re cooking dinner, you’ll just turn to the side and do a double take when you see him staring at you with wide, concerned eyes

“What?”

“I want to help :(”

He’s literally the living embodiment of this emoji: 🥺

You let him help with little stuff like stirring and watching the pot while you cut the vegetables and stuff

He immediately feels better after this, he wants to feel at least a little bit helpful

At the end of the day, while you two are in bed, he’ll nudge closer to you and pepper your face with kisses

“What was that for?”

“I just love you so much, thank you.”

Nishinoya Yuu

Sorry but everyone at the ER is on a first-name basis with Nishinoya

LISTEN HE’S SO CHAOTIC AND WILD, HE ALWAYS GETS HIMSELF INTO DUMB SITUATIONS

His grandfather didn’t even bat an eye when the school nurse would call him informing him that Nishinoya managed to break his arm during his math exam don’t ask

When he found out about your studies and your job he was so giddy and kept telling you that it was fate and that you two completed each other

He’s literally the proudest boyfriend that you could ever have, always telling everyone about how smart and talented you are

“Yeah, you may be a rocket scientist but you will never be as smart as my s/o!”

“Yuu, what are you doing—”

He loves having a smart s/o, he’s always being wowed by your vast knowledge

You can always find him silently cheering you in the corner while you’re studying

Basically, he’s your number one fan and supporter

Asides from that, he’s also your number one patient

Whenever he gets hurt, you’re the first one he turns to, he tells you it’s good practice and that it’s helping you improve your skills in an attempt to stop you for scolding him

One time, he sprained his elbow while trying to do some new move he saw on tv

Insert vine: I don’t care that you broke your elbow

Except you do care, a lot in fact

He’s lowkey tearing up when being rushed to the infirmary because it hurts but mostly because he just wants to play

You have to be so strict and stern with him

He’s so energetic and bouncy, he definitely doesn’t respond well to being bound with bandages or slings

If it weren’t for you, he probably would have worsened his injuries, but he’s a huge simp so he listens to everything you say…mostly

Since he can’t use his energy for volleyball and sports, he’ll direct that energy towards giving you attention

He becomes sooo affectionate and clingy, he just wants to shower you with love

He gets restless often, whenever he does he’ll plop down beside you and wrap his good arm around your waist while you’re working as a way to remind himself to stay put and to not jump out the window from boredom

“Kiss my boo-boo?”

“What are you? Five?”

Unlike the others, he’s very very open about how thankful he is to have you taking care of him, he would scream it out the window if you would let him

He reminds you every day how blessed he is to have you, at the most random of times actually

“Can you open this bottle for me?”

“Sure.”

“GOD, WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE YOU?”

“CALM DOWN—”

He’s so in love, please save him

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iwillhaveamoonbase · 4 years

Text

Replay ch. 4

Callum gulped as he sent the text to Rayla. She was fully in her rights to reject a drawing session in the woods. Not only that, but he was asking her to bring her own clothes because he didn’t know her exact measurements. Was he asking too much? He read the text again. ‘If it’s not too much trouble, I was really imagining drawing you among the trees, like a faerie or an elf. If you have any flowy clothes that you are alright with getting dirty, please wear those. I’ll send you the location if you’re comfortable. If not, we can do the beach or my backyard. I just can’t imagine drawing you in a confined space like my studio. I don’t think it would fit your spirit.’

Callum internally screamed. Did he really send that? She was going to rescind her acceptance of his request to draw her, wasn’t she? ‘Her spirit’? He had met her once! What was wrong with him? It was true, though. That was something about her that, despite the suit and the situation that they met in, made him feel like she would be more at home running barefoot through the forest or relaxing by the sea.

Either way, now all he had to do was wait for her to reply back. If she rejected the offer, well, he didn’t want to think about that, because that meant he probably was never going to see her again. Meeting her once was enough to make her haunt his every thought for the past three days. While he and his friends had finally ironed out how they were going to go full-time with YouTube, she had been right in the back of his mind.

He had looked up her name and ran across a few things. She really was the daughter of two bodyguards of the British royal family and her adoptive fathers ran a famous Celtic jewelry shop in Aberdeen, the designs being a mix of traditional shapes and styles and new materials. She did dance for years as a way to channel her energy. There was even a video online of her at sixteen doing a ballet routine to a Kylie Minogue and Madonna compilation. She had inserted traditional Irish step dance in a way Callum never would have thought worked but it did. Maybe that was because of the sheer joy on her face as she moved. That made her departure from dance all the stranger and it’s also where information about her basically stopped. The most recent thing he found was that she worked for Patel and Associates Anti-Fraud Law Office.

A lawyer…his faerie was a lawyer. It certainly explained the suit but it was almost absurd. Here he was imagining her running through the trees and she was surrounded by paperwork in her daily life. Did she enjoy it? Did she like spicy food? What was her type?

Callum hit his head against his desk. He needed to stop letting his mind drift to her and whether or not she could ever be interested in him. There was no way someone like him was her type. She couldn’t hide just how toned her long legs her in her suit. She probably worked out often while he was a lazy twig that indulged in sleeping in too much. Also, she was a lawyer. A lawyer falling for a YouTuber/artist? Yeah, right.

A stray chip hit his forehead. Callum looked up to glare at Soren. “What?”

“You thinking about that hot girl at the cheese shop again?”

“What? No!” Callum could feel the blush creepy up on his cheeks and all the way to his ears.

“It’s fine if you were. She was smoking hot. I never thought I would find white hair hot, but DAMN.”

Claudia hummed in acknowledgement. “I’m calling it now; she’s Bi or Pan.”

“What makes you say that?” Soren mumbled around a bunch of chips.

Claudia winked. “Gaydar.”

“Wishful thinking?”

“Maybe some of that, too,” Claudia shrugged.

“She’s got two dads,” Callum mumbled.

Soren, Claudia, and Ezran all turned to him. “Does she now?” Claudia asked.

“Yeah. She told me at the shop. It was the painting of Aunt Amaya and Aunt Janai that made her accept my offer. She was raised by her parents’ friends, hence, two dads. They run Gael Jewelers in Aberdeen.”

Claudia immediately pulled out her phone, probably to look them up. Shortly after, she whistled. “Wow. She comes from a really good-looking family. Her mom is a totally MILF.”

Soren rolled his eyes. “Claudia, you can’t just-” Claudia shoved the picture in his face. “MILF alert.”

“Mm-hmm.” Claudia scrolled through. “Ethari and Runaan and are also incredibly attractive. Damn. What is in the water in Scotland?”

Callum rolled his eyes. “Guys. Let’s focus. Do we need a production manager?”

Claudia shrugged. “My vote is you’re in charge of creative for group projects, we run our own channels, and we hire an editing assistant.”

“We also need a social media manager. Ez can’t do it all on his own while he’s in school.”

Ezran nodded. “It’s nice that you guys do your own channel stuff, but, sometimes, it would be nice to have some help.”

“Do we need a strong social media presence? We have YouTube and Twitter. Isn’t that enough?”

Ezran scratched the back of his neck. “Maybe? Claudia’s got a large following on Tumblr ever since she came out during one of her make-up tutorials. Her super casual ‘my ex-girlfriend taught me how to do this and this is the first time I’ve done this eyeliner look since we broke-up’ just made her blow-up and our channel gained thousands of followers over-night.”

Callum nodded. “We gained a lot of followers after I did that art tutorial with Janai, too. A lot of people just went gaga over her and I see a lot of requests for her to come back on the channel.”

“Which is where a social media manager could come in handy. Maybe they could track requests so we don’t have to?”

Soren sighed, taking another handful of his chips. “We also need someone to help us with events. Getting us into them, working booths…being famous is hard work.”

“We aren’t famous, Soren.”

“Beg to differ. I get stopped all the time.” Soren flexed his arm. “And it’s not just because of these guns.” The other three in the room rolled their eyes.

“Himbo,” Claudia coughed, no-so-subtly.

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?! Stop using words I don’t know!”

“Stop being a himbo.”

“CLAUDS!”

Ezran and Callum shared a look, snorting at their childhood friends’ teasing. Soren and Claudia couldn’t go five minutes without teasing each other or making a serious situation humorous. “Can’t take them anywhere,” Callum whispered.

Ezran nodded. “Bait is better behaved.”

Callum eyed the frog in the glass bowl Ezran took with him wherever he could. “He’s glaring at me again.”

“Because you won’t stop thinking about that girl.”

“It’s not my fault she won’t leave my head. You saw her, Ez.”

“Yeah, she’s beautiful, but she’s not running through my head like she is your’s. Are you even ready for another relationship? After Melissa-”

“Melissa was a nightmare. She constantly asked to be introduced in our videos. I didn’t know at the time, but you were right, she approached me because she wanted to piggyback off our growing fame.” Callum ran a hand through his hair. “I was an idiot.”

Ezran put a hand on his shoulder. “I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say that Melissa really hurt you and I want you to be careful. You didn’t even like her that much, if I remember correctly.”

“She was nice, pretty, liked some of the same things I did. But she didn’t really inspire me to be better or push my art. She only encouraged the YouTube thing, not what I actually like.”

“She is why we got almost fifty thousand subscribers in one week, though. That story broke and you had to give that little video and it really stuck with people.”

Callum remembered that video. As a way to quiet down any questions, he had made a short video detailing how they had met (in a coffee shop), why they had never gone public (he had wanted to keep his private life and his YouTube life separate), that she had met his family but they kept it hush-hush (impossible not to meet Ezran after knowing Callum for a week), and that the break-up had not been mutual. Callum had broken-up with her because he had felt that it wasn’t working because they wanted different things. Melissa pushed the YouTube thing, and there was nothing wrong with that, but, if Callum was going to be known for social media and videos, he wanted to be proud of what he put out into the universe. He loved his art more, and, if he could, that would be all he did. Melissa had wanted to do sponsorships and Callum hadn’t. They just had different values and desires and no one else was owed this knowledge, but Callum had been forced to do damage control because people would not stop asking. “Yeah. I was really surprised that that happened.”

“People value honesty. I think it comes across in our videos and your art tutorials that you are not in this for the fame. We’ve done meet and greets and you are just awkward as anything. Melissa showed her true colors on her own with posts afterwards.” Callum didn’t even want to think about how Melissa had tried to monetize their break-up. It had been bizarre to see her sponsored by a make-up wipe company to tell her side of the story, which basically confirmed everything in Callum’s video, but with the caveat that she had wanted him to reach new heights and that YouTube and not his ‘lame art’, as she had put it, was the way to do that. Their fans had not taken kindly to that and Melissa had lost thousands of followers she had gained overnight in even less time.

“Social media is weird, Ez. No matter what, we have got to stay away from the drama. We do not want to be involved in any of that.”

“Yep. That’s why I think a social media manager could help. A good one.”

“I’m all for it if that’s what keeps our noses clean.” Callum straightened when his phone alerted him to a text.

He opened it to see it was from Rayla ‘The woods? OK. I’m still bringing my friend. When’s good for you? It would have to be on a weekend for me because of work. Sorry about that.’

“Holy shit,” Callum whispered.

“What?” Ezran looked over his shoulder to read the text. “That text sounds weird. Callum-”

“I know, Ez, but she didn’t say ‘no’. She didn’t reject me.” Ezran raised a brow. “You know what I mean.”

“You’ve got it bad.”

“I just need to draw her to get her out of my system.”

“Either that or she is your muse. Poor Aunt Janai. She was having so much fun being your muse. So was Khessa.” Callum chuckled. Khessa, Janai’s older sister, did enjoy modeling for Callum. His exhibit on women of color had been a smash hit in part because of her always accepting when he asked. She had once modeled with a crown while sitting on a throne and that particular piece now hung in her house in her living room, showed off to everyone who came over. Callum smiled as he remembered that exhibit. His crowing achievement, to this day, was the portrait of his mother, eyes softened, and an easy, loving smile on her lips. People thought of her as this rough former military general and tactician who once taught at military academies. They didn’t know that she had a sweet tooth or that her relationship with Callum’s father had led her to leaving the military because she saw that the push for peace was more important.

She was now known for her discussions on US-South Korean and US-Thai relations because both her parents were immigrants and her own history in South Korea. Sarai and Amaya had both spent half their childhoods in South Korea in Korean schools, helping Sarai learn how the rest of the world saw the States. She and Amaya and joined the military because it helped pay for university, but both found they were really good at it. So good at it, they extended their contracts before finally leaving to focus on family and peaceful negotiations. Callum was proud of his mother’s work and was proud of the picture showing the softer side of her so many people didn’t see.

He shook his head and sent a quick text to Rayla that next Saturday worked for him if it worked for her. This Saturday was in a few days and, if things went how Ezran wanted, they were probably going to be doing interviews all weekend for a social media manager. “Let’s get a social media manager, Ez.”

“YES!”

------------------------------------------

Rayla smiled at the text. The woods was a bit of a strange option, but she was excited. She hadn’t had a chance to go running through the trees barefoot in years. She was going to have to ask Corvus if he was willing to head out early so she could do so. She mentally thought of her wardrobe and realized she didn’t have anything flowing that she was willing to get dirty. She was going to have to go thrift store shopping.

Was she really going to go buy a dress so a random artist that she had met one time could draw her surrounded by trees? Yeah, she was and she was going to look so good she was going to haunt his mind like he haunted her’s. His voice followed her and she had watched all of his videos in three days. She barely slept because she wanted to hear him more or see him smile or laugh. She felt like one of those stalkers who was convinced a famous person was in love with them, but she had met him in real life. He had approached her, he had asked to draw her. Either way, she wanted him to be tongue-tied when he saw her and, hopefully, she was going to quell some of the fire that refused to leave her belly since they had shaken hands.

#replay #rayllum #rayllum fanfic #tdp #the dragon prince #au #moonbase fanfics

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sablelab · 4 years

Text

Covert Operations - Chapter 101

SYNOPSIS: The Section One teams converge on the monastery to rescue Jamie and Claire. However, ever resourceful James Fraser manages to free them both just before the team arrives. A new field operative is a huge surprise to Claire and Jamie when they hear a familiar voice. The team finally makes its way to egress with their rescued operatives hoping they won’t encounter any more triad hostiles. Meanwhile, Karen, Jonathon Randall and Wang Yu are nearing their destination.

My heartfelt THANKS for reading, liking and reblogging my story. ❤️ Also THANK YOU for your lovely comments on my Valentine story at the end of Chapter 100. ❤️

Next month I will try and post twice a week on Wednesday and Saturday as I have a few chapters under my belt at the moment.

Previous chapters can be found at …https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

CHAPTER 101

The gas permeating through the room was having a quicker effect on Claire than on Jamie. Struggling to keep alert she felt the heavy weight of her head on her neck as it lolled forwards. Although she struggled to keep her body upright and had little control over her head’s movements, Claire forced herself to push her head backwards again. However, it was an effort to keep conscious as she felt herself becoming more and more lethargic. Suddenly she fell forward again and her mind began to hallucinate.

Once, travelling at night, I fell asleep in the passenger seat of a moving car. Lulled by the noise and the motion into an illusion of serene weightlessness. Then the driver took a bridge too fast. And I woke to see the world spinning outside the car windows, and the sickening sensation of falling at high speed. That is as close as I can come to describing what I experienced here in this chamber. But it falls woefully short. What? When confronted with the impossible, the rational mind will grope for the logical.

However, Claire fought valiantly against the need to go to sleep and suddenly a sound caught her attention. What was that noise? Was her mind playing tricks on her? She could have sworn she heard gunshots. Was she hallucinating? Surely Jamie had heard them too?

The sound repeated ... It was gunshots.

Slurring her words somewhat Claire tiredly turned her head sideways and uttered, “Jamie ... did you ... did you hear that?” Jamie’s hand tightened on Claire’s and his body became rigid. “Aye ...” he replied realising that the team had finally arrived but knowing that they must leave this room as quickly as possible if they were to stay alive. He’d seen how rapidly the gas was starting to have a harmful effect on Claire. Her consciousness was deteriorating at an alarming and accelerating rate. Her words were sluggish and control of her body was diminishing too. There was only one thing he could do, what he must do. With grave urgency and with one last mighty effort Jamie willed his wretched, bruised body to react. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, then moving about, he managed to lift his body placing his legs underneath his torso. His thighs bulged with the strain as he knelt back then forward on his feet. Flexing his hands over and over then tightly gripping the arms of the chair, he stared ahead channelling his inner strength and Section One training. With determination, Jamie pulled his body up with all his might and managed to break the arms from the chair thus freeing himself. Rising from the chair he immediately shook off the wooden arms and once one hand broke free of his restraints, he quickly loosened the rope bonds of his other. His next thought was to free Claire. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ In the interim the hiss of the gas unexpectedly ceased and as the door suddenly swung wide open, a rush of fresh oxygen filled the room. Jamie breathed deeply when he immediately noticed a difference in air quality. It was such a welcome relief to be able to breathe fresh air back into his lungs as the gas had rapidly taken hold of their bodies and had especially affected his Sassenach.

The team leader, Geillis Duncan quickly and expediently rushed through the door. Her eyes immediately took inventory of the two operatives as she quickly glanced from one to the other. Seeing the lethargic state they were in, particularly Claire, it was obvious that the team had definitely arrived just in time to avert a disaster.

“Jamie?” She stated as she watched him kneeling before Claire.

However, he was intent on what he was doing to release his Claire. He was in the process of freeing his love for the quicker the gas dispersed the quicker they would both feel more lucid. Nonetheless he turned at the sound of his name and acknowledged her. Then without missing a beat Jamie quickly continued in his task of untying his Sassenach from her restraints. Although she opened her glazed eyes, Claire was oblivious to Geillis Duncan who had just entered the room. Rushing over to Jamie, the team leader pulled off her balaclava, so he could see who it was. Laying her weapons on the ground she knelt beside him then assisted him in releasing Claire by helping to remove the various ties binding her to the chair. Claire had not spoken or otherwise indicated that she realized that the team had finally arrived or was in the room.

Geillis briefly examined the two operatives. Claire Beauchamp appeared to be just holding on. She seemed to be in a very bad way with the effects of the gas. Sweat was pouring down her body and she seemed barely conscious. Her face was bruised from torture but James Fraser was no better although he seemed to have become less lethargic since he had been able to breathe fresh oxygen back into his lungs. Seeing him attend to Claire reinforced her thoughts.

Another operative quickly followed close behind on the heels of his leader. He ran into the room with the sole purpose in mind to free Jamie and Claire and get them out of this room as soon as possible. However, he stopped in his tracks though and quietly observed the events taking place. His rescue attempt was not needed as he saw that Jamie and Geillis were already working on freeing Claire from her manacles.

Claire also struggled to focus on a kneeling Jamie as he worked to free her from the chair. She didn’t move she just looked vacantly around the room seeing but not really seeing at all. Her lack of cohesiveness worried Geillis for Claire appeared oblivious to any sense of danger or urgency. So, without hesitation she reached into her thigh pack and extracted a small cylinder and mask and quickly attached it to Claire’s face.

Breathing deeply, Claire coughed as life-giving oxygen filled her lungs. Geillis and Jamie shared a look. The open door had enabled fresh oxygen to seep into the room and displace the gas, so it shouldn’t take long for the life-giving oxygen to take its full effect on both of them. Jamie had obviously fared better and was more alert but now that Claire had had a good dose of the precious air, she was showing signs of rapid improvement. She coughed again. “Where are we?” Reaching up Jamie gently touched her face his expression concerned. However, he was not overly alarmed now that she had regained some momentum from the dose of oxygen that Geillis had given her. He knew it wouldn’t be too long until she was feeling much better.

“Claire ... it's me ... Claire,” he softly uttered as his eyes caressed her face.

Immediately responding to his touch, she smiled replying, “I’m okay Jamie ... just a little groggy.”

“Can you walk?” Geillis Duncan asked knowing that they needed to make egress as quickly as possible.

Breaking her gaze with Jamie when she saw Geillis standing there too. “I think so,” she responded.

Noting that Claire was indeed also less lethargic now was encouraging for they still had to leave the monastery undetected if possible. There were still triads on the premises and time was of the essence as Team Two had their orders, hence the quicker they were able to leave the better.

“That’s good,” Geillis answered giving Jamie a glance indicating the need to leave.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ However, before Claire was able to get up from her chair though, she heard a male voice speak from the back of the room. “I’m sure glad to see you both alive.” Hardly believing what they were hearing Jamie and Claire both looked up and glanced in his direction. The Section operative pulled off his balaclava and gave them both a cagey smile. “Rough mission huh?” Whatever or whoever they were expecting; the familiar face that appeared in the doorway wasn't it. They were astonished to see who their rescuer was. “Don’t look so surprised,” he stated with a cocky grin, “How ya doing Sugar?” “M-Murtagh?” Claire said faltering over his name in shock. “Yep ... I'm here, and it's me. It's gonna be okay.” He looked over to Jamie. “Hey man, good to see you. Remember I did say to look after my Sugar.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he saw the recollection of their conversation resonate in Jamie’s mind.

Murtagh’s statement had stopped him in his tracks as he’d walked away, from munitions. “Look after my Sugar,” he had said in all seriousness. Although he’d kept walking, he had felt the weapons’ expert’s eyes boring holes into his retreating back. “I will,” he’d answered earnestly.

“Aye ... I do remember,” Jamie replied recalling back to his conversation with Fitzgibbons in Munitions before the start of the mission. However, it was Murtagh’s parting words of warning, although spoken in jest that had prophetically come to pass ... “I don’t want to have to come after you.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That night, all those months ago, Murtagh Fitzgibbons had also unwittingly blurted out his inner thoughts to him when he’d handed out the weaponry for the mission to find Tony Wong.

“I must say, however, I am envious of the fact that you will get to use these Jamie ... I think that's great.” He’d watched Murtagh pensively finger the weapons and knew that he was remembering the old times when he had been on missions. “Boy! … Wouldn’t I just love to be out in the field with you this one time.” “Perhaps … ye never know Murtagh,” he’d said in reply. “Nah! I’m too old for all that field work.” Yet here he was and Murtagh’s retort seemed obsolete now. Obviously, this was his chance to be out in the field this one time after all. Operations must have agreed to him being on the team ... and under the circumstances they could use all the first-rate operatives they had. Murtagh was an Asian weaponry expert after all ... there was more to him than anyone knew. His time in Vietnam had honed his skills to expert status. Murtagh Fitzgibbons was an old master ... and his expertise was undisputed. For Claire’s sake he was glad he was on the team. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Claire’s stumbled words brought them both back to reality. “What? ... What ... are you doing here? How did you ... get here? Why are you here?” she uttered surprised to see her most unexpected friend. With feigned modesty Murtagh answered, “I needed to brush up on my field mechanics and I just wanted to make sure you'd be able to find your way back home.” He winked at Claire and his face crinkled with mirth. “So how are you doing?” “I'll be fine.” He saw Claire’s battered face but her inner beauty was still radiant. “Mmmmm … You look just as beautiful as ever.” Knowing that time was of the essence Geillis Duncan issued orders that they must get going. “Let's go!” Seeing that Claire was still a little fazed, Murtagh held out his hand and helped her up to her feet from the chair. “I guess you guys want to get outta here, huh?” he asked stating the obvious. Claire held his gaze and whispered, “I'm glad you came.” He smiled in return ever so pleased that the team had arrived when they did. If they had found Jamie and Claire deceased, he didn’t know how he would have reacted to that scenario. “I was worried we wouldn’t reach you both in time. I feel better now that we’ve found you both alive.”

Geillis Duncan turned to lead the group out of the room. “Come on hurry ... We need to go. Second team will be placing the detonators around the monastery any moment.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Rupert Mackenzie and Jasmine Kwong stood several feet away keeping guard. Facing the entrance of the antechamber, their rifles were cocked and at the ready to fire should any triads appear unexpectedly. When the two team members heard them all exit the room Rupert glanced over his shoulder briefly but his grin soon turned to shock when he saw the two operatives and the state they were in. He shot a look at Geillis but she failed to see it as she spoke to Fergus on her comm. unit. “Fergus, it's me. We've got Jamie and Claire. How do we get out of here?” “Nothing's secure yet. Can you augment a Tactical?”

“No. Jamie and Claire are in a bad way. We’re going to have to keep them close.” “Okay, let me see if I can create some space for you ... Team Two, increase your wedge by a few degrees and don’t set the detonators until I give the order.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the woods, outside of the monastery Abernathy replied, “Understood Claudel.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As they exited the room, Murtagh handed Jamie a weapon while Rupert Mackenzie slipped out the spare gun he carried on his thigh for Claire. She looked at the gun then at him. "The area's not secure, yet," he stated. "There's a good chance we will encounter more hostiles." Her eyes held his before replying. "Right!" Meanwhile, Geillis moved towards the exit where they had originally entered. She paused at the doorway then glanced over her shoulder to look at the group and waited for the go ahead from Fergus. “Okay, Geillis. There's a door ten meters to your right, down the hallway. It leads out. You'll be clear for the next sixty seconds.” Moving to the door, she raised her gun and looked each way. Geillis' eyes peered down the corridor watchful for any hostiles still around. Seeing none she turned back and looked at the group. "We've got to go now!" They proceeded to the exit, and checking again to make sure that the way was clear she gave the team a nod, then ordered with some urgency, "This way!" Slipping through the door, she led the way out of the chamber back into the corridor. Although still not completely recovered from the effects of the gas, Jamie was one step behind her with his gun raised and carried high. Murtagh fell into line with Claire at his side with her pistol carried at hip level. The two flanked Geillis and Jamie while the other operatives had fanned out around them. Suddenly, one of Jonathon Randall’s men burst into the corridor with his gun aimed at Jamie. Although his reflexes were sharp, they were not as sharp as the team’s leader Geillis Duncan. She was the first to see him and methodically turned around at the sound of the door opening and shot the man before he could get any rounds of ammunition off. Taking the lead, she moved forward to where the hostile lay to check to see if there was anyone accompanying the dead guard. She then re-joined the rest of the team again. Their objective was to reach some balustrade columns a short way ahead but as they started along this exposed area of the hallway to the door, triad guards appeared from the floor above. They opened fire. Bullets sprayed the wall behind them as the team made a desperate lunge for cover.

Fergus could hear the gunfire over the open channel. "I can't keep this corridor clear. You've got to get out of there." *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ When there was no immediate reply Fergus became worried. "First Team?" Geillis took shelter behind a nearby column while Jamie knelt beside her. Eventually she was able to reply to his question. "First Team engaging some hostiles." The hostiles continued firing at the operatives, and they were pinned down by the ricocheting bullets. She looked around the corner and made eye contact with Murtagh on the other side with Claire who had taken cover with him. Fortunately, he was in the better position to make a move on the hostile. Geillis gestured to him.

"Are you ready?" With a sparkle in his eye he replied, "Yeah, let's go.” Murtagh then lay on his back as he moved to get a better drop on the guard cutting off their retreat. Taking aim, he got off an extraordinary shot. Bang! This knocked the man over the balcony before he knew what had hit him. Another appeared, then another and another. Murtagh rolled. Bang! Bang! Keeping his eye on the hostiles, he took out every one dropping them with precision marksmanship. Bang! The adrenalin was wonderful. Murtagh felt a rush of blood to his head at the kill. It had been a long while since he had been in this situation and not since the Terrogamo mission had he felt this good. What good was it to be a weapons specialist if he was not able to put his skills into practise once in a while? he thought merrily. However, despite the adrenalin rush, Murtagh remained alert and his senses strained to pick up any further signs of hostile company. Claire peeked around the column and watched the gunplay in awe of the craggy operative. Murtagh Fitzgibbons hadn't lost it, he was still as sharp as ever. "Claire! Claire, get over here!" He whispered noticing that the coast was clear for the moment for her to join him. However, before she could make a move, suddenly behind her, a Rising Dragon triad guard broke through the doors, firing. Claire turned and instinctively returned fire, shooting the guard who fell nearby. She looked down at the dead guard seemingly paralysed by the sight of the lifeless body. Looking back at her Murtagh noticed Claire's reticence and rushed over to her. "Hey... Stay ... with ... me!" But it was soon obvious that she was all right. "I'm okay." As he looked at her his face lit up like a Christmas tree. "That wasn't so bad for a sixty-year-old teenager, was it Sugar?" he bragged. Claire nodded and gave him a wry smile. "Murtagh ... I'm surprised you could stand the excitement. How does it look now?" He looked around to see if the coast was clear, then with his eyes wide with the excitement of his experience he replied. "Empty." "Let's hope so or else we could be sitting ducks." They shared a look before Murtagh answered her. "That's always a concern. Ready?" “Yes.” The operatives forged ahead to egress hoping they wouldn't encounter any more triad security guards. Meanwhile … The Dragon rises up his back In daylight near and far He soars at night with deadly eye Beneath the moon and star The Rising Dragon!

Lost in thought, the three triad members sat in the helicopter and played out the mantra of the Rising Dragons in their minds. To each person on the aircraft their success had been the epitome of what the Rising Dragons stood for. The death of the protagonists Claire Beauchamp and James Fraser was a coup which showed the might and fortitude of the triad. To them they were victorious and had upheld the ethos of the triad. Sun Yee Lok would be most pleased with how they had accomplished their task of ridding the triad of those that sought to destroy them.

Be cautious of its ruthless ways This enigma to the night For the Dragon bears upon his wings A chilling tale of fright The Rising Dragon! "Death with Honour" its way of life With motto "Strength by Dare" Once you yield fear nought … but When it seeks you, beware! The Rising Dragon!

Be wary of its mercilessness For treachery brings you danger. Perpetrators be especially vigilant, It will rise up in anger...

The Rising Dragon!

Although each had a different perspective each had the same conclusion ... the Rising Dragons had triumphed over their adversaries. It could look forward, regroup and get on with the business of what they did the best. Now that James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp were no longer a thorn in their side, the triad would recover and bounce back stronger than ever. Their deaths would be a warning to all those who may seek to undermine the might of the Rising Dragons and hence would think twice about staging a coup in the near future. Although the triad had taken a hit of late with the deaths of key members, once the word spread amongst the other triads of their success in eliminating its foe, their rivals especially Samuel Li, from the Black Panthers would curtail their ambition to become the supreme Dragon Head of the triads by trying to usurp Sun Yee Lok.

The triad has a cruel, ferocious wrath Beware! Take heed! Think twice! Never ... ever ... deceive or betray For you will pay the price... The Rising Dragon! This mythical beast the dragon Unbending and combative its rite Roars so wild upon the sea The symbol of power and might The Rising Dragon!

To all who dare to take us on We will demonstrate forceful prowess You may try but you will never win For failure only brings success ... to The Rising Dragon!

Nearing their destination, each played out the scenarios in their heads that they had of their recollections of what had just taken place at the monastery. They wanted to be prepared for whatever questions Sun Yee Lok would ask of them. He would be most pleased that they had been successful and all knew that he would want to know the details of their experiences. Thus, a recount of what had happened and how it had impacted on them was the best way of making the events fresh and real. Each of them took strength in their convictions of events at the monastery and knew that their leader would be most pleased they had stayed true to the Rising Dragons’ principles. The rule of the triad is absolute To the vanquished just misery it will bring It triumphs over adversaries Then its greatness loudly will sing The Rising Dragon! An invincible, powerful brotherhood The Triad rules supreme Don't ever try to obliterate For retribution will be extreme The Rising Dragon!

The triad soars in its conquest For power and fortune go to the bold The dragon will reap rewards and enjoy Long life in abundance ten-fold The Rising Dragon!

Karen, Jonathon Randall and Wang Yu looked forward to the meeting with their supreme leader. Each hoped that they could bring something unique to the table for their meeting with their Dragon Head in the morning. Success for the Rising Dragons was the primary concern but a personal reward for their achievements would also be gratefully accepted. Whatever reward Sun Yee Lok would deem as suitable would be graciously accepted, but it was the fact that they had been successful in ridding the triad of the two thorns in their side, the ones who had bought upheaval and despair to the triad, was the best reward of all.

The three triad members glanced at one another knowing that each had musings of what had happened at the monastery and the consequences of their actions. But more importantly, they were proud to be a Rising Dragon triad member who had been true to the ideals, standards, ethos and principles of the triad and were now returning triumphant to report back to their leader.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued on Friday the 28th February.

Next month I will try and post twice a week on Wednesday and Saturday as I have a few chapters under my belt at the moment.

#jamie and claire #Jamieandclairefanfic #jamieandclaireau #jamieandclairecrossover #outlander fanfiction #covert operations #the lallybroch library #crossover outlander/lfn spies modernau

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forasecondtherewedwon · 5 years

Note

Hi for the smutty prompts can you do number 12 please. I love you're writing by the way 💕

Thank you, trio of anons!! I didn’t do a Halloween party as all my Halloween writing energy went into my 31 Days of Spideychelle. What these prompts did make me think of was Fight Club… so it’s a Fight Club AU!

Queens Club

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle)Rating: E/NSFW - warning: consensual violenceWord count: 3002

12. “Are you going to eye-fuck me all night or are you going to do something about it?”

43. “The things I want to do to you, baby.”

Warped is how it feels to live in a progressive city within a conservative country. MJ marches and rallies and volunteers her time with organizations whose goals she believes in. She looks around at these events and sees a youthful, diverse crowd hungry for equal pay, thirsty for renewable energy initiatives. She smiles, handing donated school supplies to underprivileged kids, donated canned goods to Queens’s homeless, donated fuck-yous from the disgustingly, ceaselessly rich to the people their hoarded wealth keeps poor. MJ wants to do more, so she does it, and things don’t change. Things. Don’t. Change.

She wants to pick a fight.

It’s comin’ on winter―an even bleaker time than the manic-depressive Christmas Joni Mitchell alluded to―and the impact of the latest article MJ’s submitted to an online zine that always takes her pieces feels like it’ll last about as long as the first ashy snowfall. Where’s the passion, she wanted them to ask. Maybe they could grab her by her shoulders and shake until her neck snaps while they’re at it. Disillusionment wasn’t supposed to come this soon for the kid who wore Jeanne d’Arc Ts in high school. The ‘Girl Most Likely’ of teen revolution.

The city’s greyer this year, she’d swear to it. Wishy-washy shadows and sidewalks for sleepwalkers. Getting from work to home? Nightmarish, but in, like, a boring way. The tiny, chilly apartment MJ shares with some woman who seems to keep opposite hours isn’t enough to revive her. At least the drama of scratching ‘DO NOT RESUSCITATE’ into her bedroom door is something to contemplate on the walk. Tomato soup for dinner, just to see the colour orange.

Not everyone she knows falls into the two categories of ‘sparky do-gooder’ and ‘veritable stranger’ like she’d thought. Someone is interesting. Someone has felt her clenched jaw and understood her cravings. MJ flips over the card she found shoved beneath the apartment’s front door, but the back is blank. She peruses the front again, eyes down while she lifts her dinner and gulps the last of the soup directly from the bowl. It sloshes over her upper lip, so she licks it off, feeling… Feeling. That’s enough.

The card says, ‘Fight Club.’ It provides a date and time, a familiar street address.

She’s neutral about slipping inside Midtown Tech after midnight. Whoever did the breaking in left the rear custodial door open―the one that exits into a closet-room of buckets and rolls of rough brown paper towel. There’s no sign, not that MJ had been expecting one. It isn’t parent teacher night or the heavily-postered orientation day she attended when she started college. The lights aren’t on in the hall and when she sniffs hard (adjusting to the dry air), the sound is somehow too close. She has to get out of her own body.

What she’d pictured after the anonymous invite was a gathering in someplace a little grittier than the gym. Newly refloored, by the looks of it. She could rave about the skewed divide of school funds that favours athletics, the physical over the mental, even in a specialized tech school, but she isn’t here to champion the arts.

The things MJ might need tonight could be anything; she’s filled a decrepit duffle with a water bottle, towel, and two-thirds-empty box of band-aids. It sags pathetically and she chucks it against the wall to join the dozen people―mostly men―clumped together near the fold-away bleachers.

“’Sup.” She nods to the closest person.

How long have they been doing this? Is she the only new recruit tonight? When did it begin? Why use the gym at Midtown Tech? Who found her and how? The only thing she doesn’t wonder is what the point is. He doesn’t answer any of the questions in MJ’s head and normally she doesn’t like that―curiouser and skepticaler by nature―but the conviction in his powerful-looking shoulders and grounded posture is something she’s never seen before. The phrase is bullshit, except the air does change when he moves through the circle they’ve become without her noticing. Suddenly, MJ cares about presenting herself like she’s supposed to be here.

There are rules, blah, blah, blah, and his name is Spider-Man.

The spectacle engages her adrenaline; she has to remind herself that neither of the men swinging furious amateur punches is going to come for her. It’s the first match of the night and watching is part of what Figh―is what this is about. The noise of a nose breaking is something MJ knows now. The smear of freshly-escaped blood across both men’s knuckles is surprisingly orange. Briefly, remembering her soup, she feels a nauseated surge in her stomach.

This “Spider-Man” dude is physical. He hasn’t fought yet, but he pushes the fighters, grabs their arms and shoves them together, slaps them on the back and shrieks praise in their ears. He yanks his shirt off and when the fighters collide with him, they leave streaks from superficial wounds on his chest. Never his back, because he’s always facing them. His eyes are passionate. It’s a lot, when they land on MJ.

Two more fights and he looks at her every time he turns his head. He still hasn’t fought, but he’s jostled the crowd and the fighters enough to put a shine on his skin. When he pushes his curly brown hair off his forehead, it clings for a moment before flopping back exactly where it was. She smells him when he brushes by in front of her.

The fighters are not ‘gladiators’ because they fight for themselves, not for the approval of any authority. MJ can’t see how they can ignore the clear authority of the Club’s founder. She doesn’t bring it up.

Number four’s starting up and the guy beside her has an eye swelling shut when the shock of the evening finally numbs in her mind and she begins to get angry. All those tiny godfuckingdamn backpacks for kids who are statistically less likely to reach post-secondary because of their socioeconomic backgrounds. MJ could swear she’s handed out a thousand. And the politicians? And the rich? And the rich? Spider-Man slides by at her back, knocking into her and she whips her head around to stare while he stares right on back, moving away around the ring of Last Resorters.

Across from her―a trio beating the shit out of each other in between (it isn’t exactly the fish tank meet-cute of Romeo + Juliet)―Spider-Man stares, gaze so forceful it’s like he thinks he can yank her over there, make her step into danger like walking into traffic or off the edge of a cliff. He grins.

She shoulders through the others, circling. The action is deliberate and no one gets pissed, no one scoffs or swears or flips her off. The last person standing there between her and her objective MJ bodily propels into the fight. And she’s looking a little lower than level to lock eyes with Spider-Man. He crosses his arms, she grinds her teeth.

“Are you going to eye-fuck me all night,” MJ demands, “or are you going to do something about it?”

When he starts to laugh, voices roaring up around them after a wretched pop that could’ve been a shoulder, a finger, or a cheekbone (she’s still learning the chords for the music of injury), she slaps him hard across the face. He does react, head swinging sideways on her follow-through, but he smiles at her again.

“Never the flat of the hand,” Spider-Man instructs, leaning towards her. “But we’ll train you out of that. See, what you want… what you want is a nice closed fist.”

He makes one around her ponytail, arm shooting out before she has a chance to stop him―if she had any idea how to do that―and drags her by it, sideways into the combat space.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES,” he orders, kicking a guy in the knee who then has to limp to the observers. “You picked the match,” he says to her, winding MJ’s hair around his fist to heighten the tug on her scalp, “so fight me.”

Abruptly, he frees her hair and she hurls her shoulder into his chest.

“You fucking started it, bitch.”

MJ never says that word, not as an endearment for friends (like she has a lot of those) or to reclaim control of a term used to harass women. Holding it in her mouth has always made her sick. Guess she just figuratively barfed on Spider-Man.

He staggers, then pushes her back. MJ’s feet are completely wrong and she falls on her ass.

“Up,” he says, raising his fists in front of his chin, arms flexing.

Her sneaker squeaks―she hopes it leaves a scuff―and somebody’s damp palm is pressing between her shoulder blades to steady her to her feet.

He doesn’t direct her with his words anymore after that, although MJ falls again and again. Looks like she’ll be finding out tomorrow if you can bruise your ass. Instead, he’ll tap her shoulder to make her lower it, grip her elbow to tuck it closer to her ribs. She knows this muscular guy isn’t hitting her full-strength, but it doesn’t offend her. A trip to the hospital isn’t in her plans for the near-future and he probably doesn’t want to whittle down his group. If anything, it’s likely spreading. Hence her invitation.

Blood has run from her lip to her chin by the time they unspokenly end their fight, and her stomach hurts from the multiple times Spider-Man caught MJ straight-on before she figured out she should turn to the side to present a smaller target. For now, he stands next to her and performs fifth-rate doctoring: he wipes the blood away with his thumb.

Watching other fights, MJ hadn’t understood how two people who’d just been attacking each other could then stand together like pals, comparing bruises as they bloomed. But her anger has curled up to rest and Spider-Man’s presence, his strength, makes her press her arm into his. She looks him up and down and though he studies the current fight, she’s sure he’s aware of her gaze. His stance is good considering she kneed him in the nuts.

“Did you get it all out?” he asks without turning to look at her.

MJ rolls her shoulders.

“For now. You?”

Spider-Man snorts a laugh.

“The things that I want to do to you, baby.”

It sort of comes across like a threat of violence, considering all they have just done to each other, but she happens to drop her gaze and see the front of his jeans is looking as swollen as that other poor bastard’s eye. The jeans are slouching on his hips as it is. MJ can see herself taking them off. She can see herself punching his cheek instead of slapping it this time. She can see herself doing several things now that she’s discovered her self is a self that can challenge a man to a fistfight and do damage. It feels suddenly female, drippingly female, to have stared down this shirtless madman with the anarchic, archaic hobby and introduced his groin to her knee. The partial nudity, the sweating, the concentrated eye contact―obviously, the boner. What’s not erotic about this?

“Come and fucking get it then,” she tells him, striding through the circle and nudging a winded woman aside, headed for the girls’ locker room off the gym.

Spider-Man isn’t following her. MJ is leading him.

She bangs the swinging door open and it doesn’t have time to shut before he slips inside behind her. Turning her head quickly, she wonders about kissing and decides against it. She doesn’t want this man in her face―just in her cunt.

His jeans seem to have dropped even lower; she can see the taut white band of his underwear and a couple inches of cotton below the elastic.

“I’m asking,” Spider-Man says with an earnest yet heated gaze. “I don’t out there, but here… I’m asking.”

Only he doesn’t ask anything, not a hint of uptick. Just comes up behind her―with MJ still watching over her shoulder―and scans down the length of her back with his eyes, keeping a foot of air between them. He won’t touch her without permission, is what he’s saying.

“It’s MJ, by the way,” she tells him, gripping his forearm and pulling it towards her to make his hand caress up her hip. “I’ll be coming to more of these things, so you might as well know.”

“Good.”

And they both go for the fastenings of their respective bottoms. She thinks she’ll beat him, only needing to yank the tie on her sweatpants, but Spider-Man’s a quick draw on the button and zipper of his jeans. It can’t be more than a second before they’re staggering to a wall of lockers, with her shoving her underwear down and him reaching into his and stroking his dick gratuitously before jerking down the front of his boxers.

MJ glances back at how he’s taken himself in hand and begins to rub her clit, drawing wetness forward from where their fight a few minutes ago got her going. Her hips jump. Her other hand backhands congealing blood off her lip, then goes to the locker door; she jerks her head to encourage him. She doesn’t quit circling and massaging herself as Spider-Man adjusts her hips for angle. There’s the prod of his dick as he feels out his destination―like somebody ringing a doorbell. But this guy isn’t shy. When he enters her, it’s not rough, but it’s all the way. One stroke. MJ inhales fast.

She settles into him over the first half-dozen thrusts (the paint on the pale blue metal of the locker is chipping, MJ notices through hazy eyes), sticking her ass out for a shallower angle that brings his cock closer to her g-spot. Her breaths are huffed when he finds it and his hands land suddenly and heavily on her waist, sliding down to knead her hips. She works herself faster, dragging her clit side to side under slippery fingertips. Spider-Man must be able to see her arm moving or, if not that, then definitely feel her clutching at him from the inside. He picks up the pace and she can feel how wet she is, how wet they are together.

MJ moans and shivers, frantically manipulating her clit. It’s like her noise gives him another permission―to make sounds of his own. These are gravelly grunts. Not wasteful: one on each of the thrusts he slams into her g-spot. Her arm buckles at the elbow, which is the beginning of the end.

She closes her eyes and rocks her hips backward fiercely, receiving him, receiving him, receiving him. Filling herself up. She will be unbearably full. She will be a nation unto herself. She will be… hitting a pharmacy on the way home to buy Plan B. That’s fine because everything is tingling. Her thighs are quaking and it’s possible that his hands on her hips are what’s keeping distance between her and the speckled floor. She can hear the shuffle of his jeans (around his ankles) against her sweatpants (around hers). MJ pictures her fingers rubbing at light speed. Her teeth clench until a gasp forces them and her eyes open and she’s pounding her hips down onto Spider-Man’s. These are deep, brutal movements, but she and he are fighters.

He climaxes while she still is, so she finds out she can either have orgasms that last for ages or can get off twice if someone’s drilling into her g-spot like he should be living in her nightstand and running on batteries she had to buy separately. Whatever he’s triggered, it’s fantastic and MJ grinds through it for as long as the sensation lasts.

It’s a mess and a loss when he pulls out. In the move that surprises her more than everything else she’s seen tonight put together, MJ feels him touch his forehead between her shoulder blades. Doesn’t stay for more than a few seconds, but she feels weirdly consecrated. When he backs up to hoist his clothes into place, she gives her face a smack. Shit―immediate regret and a wince as the pain in her lip pulses. She gets herself redressed and strides to one of the stalls at the far end of the locker room.

Does she buzz by him because she’s embarrassed? Nope. She stands tall, it’s just that she can only continue to do so for a limited time, until everything he just shot inside her is coating her inner thighs. No thanks.

She pees, grabbing her stomach because those muscles don’t like her tensing to urinate after Spider-Man’s punches. As she’s folding toilet paper in her hand (it’s nicer than the stuff she has at her apartment and she adds that to Midtown’s offenses, beneath the gym floor), she hears quiet speech. It’s him, talking to himself nearby. Memory aid? Post-sex pep talk? MJ is no man’s ego-stroker, but if this guy, who comes across as otherwise supremely confident, needs a little reassurance about his prowess, she can honestly praise him on the experience of tonight’s fuck.

Preparing to be complimentary but not effusive, MJ flushes and begins to swing the stall door open when she spots Spider-Man with his hands braced on one of the sinks, leaning his face close to the mirror. The red mark on his cheek could’ve been a bruise if she knew how to throw a harder punch. He’s continuing to speak softly and she stares at the bunched muscles of his back, his tight upper arms. Would she do it again (with a condom)? Yes.

“Peter, be patient,” he’s coaching himself, loud enough for her to hear now. “There’s a plan. The Club will scale so fucking beautifully once everything’s ready.”

“So your real name’s Peter,” MJ’s about to confirm, when the man, eyes still locked on his reflection, says five more words.

“Ok, Spider-Man. I trust you.”

Fuck.

more smut prompts

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ceterisparibus116 · 5 years

Note

Also on murdocklovespage’s post about you wanting prompts, they mentioned “What if Matt, Claire, and Stick were in a room together?” as a prompt and I want to see it

This is soooo late (I apologize) but I hope you like it!

Matt was trying—trying so hard and in so many ways. And thistime, it actually seemed like it was working.

Nelson and Murdock weren’t back together, no. Elektra wasstill gone, yes. And Karen? She said she needed time. And space. But Foggyseemed to have forgiving him, or to be on his way there. Part of it probablyhad to do with no longer having the pressure of maintaining a business togetheron top of the pressure of maintaining their friendship. Most of it probably hadto do with Matt’s sincere and detailed apology, not given in the heat of anargument or as a desperate bid to fix things between them but just because Mattwas really, truly sorry. So at least Matt had Foggy again, even if not in quitethe same way as he was used to.

And he had his own small law practice where he didn’t have anyoneelse lecturing him on the merits of accepting homemade bread in lieu ofpayment. Or on the ethics of some extralegal problem solving. Mostly, heoffered a lot of unbundled services, which basically involved stepping in atdifferent points of the legal process. He helped one client file paperwork,showed up at court for another client who was worried about talking in front ofa judge. Unbundled services were a cheaper route for the clients who had some moneybut not enough to actually retain him. Meanwhile, he enjoyed getting to help whereverhe was needed most.

And Stick had completely disappeared.

So it was good, really. Things were good. Slowly but surely,he was rebuilding. And honestly? It was nice. He’d so thoroughly trashed hislife both professionally and relationally that appreciating all the littleblessings of a relatively normal life was as easy as breathing.

Easier than, actually, since his two cracked ribs currentlymade breathing…difficult.

But that was fine. Much less immediately worrying than theblood spilling from his arm over the tear in his suit. Matt couldn’t faultMelvin for it. The suit did a good job against knives, usually, but Matt’s ownbody weight was responsible for driving the broken glass into his arm after hejumped out of the window. Generally, Matt was pretty good at jumping out ofwindows. But he’d sort of gotten hit on the head immediately before his self-imposeddefenestration, which messed with his balance as he fell.

He was fine.

He was also, however, incapable of stitching his arm up onhis own, so he tugged his burner phone out of his pocket. He’d been trying notto call Claire, trying to give her space. But this was…this was a lot of blood,showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.

“Matt?” Her voice was sharp on the other end of the phone. “What’swrong?”

“Nothing, I just wondered if you were free.”

“Depends on how close you are to dying.”

He hated that she still saw herself first and foremost ashis healer. Nothing more. Then again, he pretty much shut her down every time sheattempted to offer anything more intimate than pure medical advice, so maybethat was on him. “Does bleeding out count as dying?”

She groaned into the phone. “Matt, get over here.”

“Thank you, Claire.” He began the trek back to her place,wincing at the throb in his skull. Concussion? Possibly? Probably?

Maneuvering himself onto her fire escape felt surreal,brought him back to a simple black suit and simpler times. He couldn’t bring himselfto long for the past, though. Back then, she hadn’t even known his name. Hehated that it’d taken her getting beaten by Russians for him to risk revealing himselfto her, which didn’t seem so different from how he hadn’t been able to tellKaren about Daredevil until after he’d ruined their relationship. It was a patternof his. One he wasn’t planning on repeating.

Through her window, he smelled spices from whatever she wascooking. For a moment, he just listened to her light footsteps as she moved aroundthe kitchen, audible under the pleasantly unobtrusive voice of a podcast. Buthe didn’t have much time to waste. He tapped on the window.

The podcast shut off and her footsteps approached. She slidthe window open and hissed in a breath. “You weren’t kidding about bleedingout.”

“S’not that bad.” He rolled his shoulder experimentally asif he could draw her attention to one of the few parts of his body that wasn’t injured. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, idiot.” She stepped aside, gave him room to slitherthrough the window. As soon as his feet landed, she put one hand on his goodarm and the other on his hip, steering him towards her couch so he could sit. “How’dthis happen?”

He wondered, not for the first time, if she was asking becausehis answer might inform his treatment or because she just wanted to know. Hetook off his helmet and she ran a hand through his hair like she couldn’t help smoothingit back into order. “Fell out a window.”

“Have you considered not doing that, maybe?”

“It was an emergency.”

Snorting, she gingerly felt along his arm. “So you alsolanded on the window, I assume.” She reached for her medical bag, which wassetting on the couch beside him even though it smelled of the closet. She’d hadto get it out for him. Or, depending on how you looked at it, she’d gotten itout just for him. “If you fell out a window, does that mean the bad guys arestill out there?”

His stomach tightened with the sense that he’d somehow lether down. “Yeah. They weren’t my priority.”

“Since when are bad guys not your priority? Brace yourself, I’mpulling this out in three, two—”

She slid the glass out of his arm and he closed his eyesagainst a wave of dizziness as fresh blood soaked his sleeve. Then he squeezedhis eyes shut tighter at the burn of the antiseptic, his whole body clenchingdespite his best efforts to stay still. His ribs made their protest known.

“What were they doing, anyway?” She poked the needle throughhis skin. “The bad guys, I mean.”

He breathed slowly through his nose. “Human traffickers.”

The needle paused for an instant. “Oh. And you didn’t tearthem limb from limb because…?”

Would she have wanted that kind of violence? “Had to get thekids out first.“

“Kids?”

Not all of them. Two or three were in their early twenties. ButMatt was willing to bet they’d been caught in forced prostitution since highschool. Maybe even middle school. One of the girls he’d found was only eleven.

He didn’t share that particular detail with Claire. Wasn’tsure he’d share it with anyone. “Yeah.” He gritted his teeth as string draggedunder his skin. “Had to stay until I knew they were out.” But there’d been toomany men in that warehouse for him to fight off on his own when they were comingat him all at once like that. Hence jumping out a window. He was just too tiredto explain that reasoning to Claire.

But she was no longer pushing him to justify himself. “Itmight be ironic to say this while I’m sopping up your blood, but I’m glad youwere there. For the kids.”

“I’ll go back later. Find the men responsible. See if I canget enough evidence for…” He shook his head, trailing off, distracted by the awarenessof just how difficult building a case against them would be. The victims werelong gone, and proving a sex crime beyond a reasonable doubt without a victim onthe stand was almost impossible.

He rubbed at his eyes. Not that he wanted any of the peoplehe’d rescued to have to go through the trauma of taking the stand. But thethought of their traffickers getting off on, what, kidnapping charges? It was enoughto make him wish, just for an instant, that he could operate a bit more likeFrank Castle.

No. He’dconsidered that route before, with Fisk. It wasn’t right.

“Matt?” Claire prompted.

“Huh?”

“You spaced out. I asked if there’s anything else I shouldknow about, since I’ve got you here.” She was running her hand up his arm,checking for breaks or something.

“No, that’s…that’s the worst of it.” He flexed the newlystitched-up arm. “Thank you.” Then he started to push himself to his feet.

She stood up at the same time. “You’re leaving?”

His smile probably looked a little too sad. “I didn’t meanto interrupt your night.”

“Well, you did,” she said simply, “so you may as well do itall the way. You want dinner?”

His mouth watered. “No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Hmm. I think you should eat.” She leaned closer and put herhand on his stomach.

He flinched automatically, his good arm twitching up toshield his ribs.

“I knew it,” shesaid.

“Knew what?” he asked helplessly.

“You were moving way too stiffly for only a stab wound. Sitdown.”

“You’re that familiar with how I move?” He returned slowly tohis seat, not quite able to feel reluctant about it.

“Too stiff and too sluggish at the same time. I have apretty good guess what else is wrong with you, but I’ll leave you to be honestwith me on your own.” She retrieved the binding from her bag. “How bad arethey?”

“Uh…”

“Breath out for me.”

Matt exhaled obediently and couldn’t help enjoying thefeeling of her hands on him, encircling his body with the wrapping above andbelow the injury. “The, uh—”

She shushed him, then tied off the wrapping. “Okay. Nowspeak.”

“The other thing might be a concussion. I think? Somethinghit me when I was leaving.”

“And by ‘leave’ you mean ‘throw yourself bodily out of a window,’right?”

He grinned. “If you wanna get technical about it.”

There was a clickas she turned on a light. “Lemme see your eyes.” Slipping her hand under hischin, she tilted his head the way she wanted it. “Yep, you look pretty messedup. How do you feel? Nauseated?”

He shook his head.

“Good. So you have no excuse not to let me feed you.”

“Claire, I—”

“Shh.” Her hand was still on his jaw. “Let me take care ofyou.”

Why was she being so kind to him? It wasn’t like he’dtreated her well recently. Ignoring all the help she offered, turning herhospital into a war zone, getting her friend killed. “Claire, I—”

“If you’re about to say you’re fine, I don’t wanna hear it.” She packed away her bag and headedinto the kitchen.

Getting unsteadily to his feet, he followed at a safedistance. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“That’s a first,” she said, but there was no bite to hertone as she stirred the soup on her stove.

“I’m sorry I kept pushing you away. It wasn’t fair after allyou’ve done for me.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “If it helps, I hatedevery second of it.”

“Well, that makes two of us.”

He wet his lips. “You were right, by the way. About me…becomingtoo much like the people I fight. I lost perspective.” He remembered bloodyfists and the snap of his wirecutting through Nobu’s neck.

“You don’t need to apologize to me for that.”

“But I want to.” He breathed in carefully, mindful of thetight binding around his ribs. “I should’ve listened. You deserved myattention. My trust. You deserved a…a conversation,at least.”

She didn’t say anything as she placed a bowl of soup infront of him.

“I shouldn’t have shut you out,” he finished quietly.

She still didn’t say anything for several long moments. Thenshe nodded once. “Thank you. Look, Matt, you’re your own person. It wasn’t myjob to…” She tipped her head back like she might find the words she was lookingfor on the ceiling. “Fix you, or something. So I’m sorry too.”

“Don’t be. Everything you said, I needed to hear it.”

“I’m just saying, maybe I should’ve been more patient. It wasjust hard for me, because…” She sighed. “I care about you, maybe too much.”

His stomach flipped at the present tense. “You weren’t theonly one fed up with me.”

“Right. And how is Foggy?” she asked carefully.

Of course. She knew Foggy. Weird that Claire, so firmlyassociated with his vigilante life, had mixed with Foggy, so firmly associatedwith the law, and he hadn’t even been there. “He’s good. Really good. Workingat a fancy law firm.”

“You don’t sound upset about that.”

“I’m not,” he said honestly. “It’s not the kind of lifestyleI’d want, but Foggy’s happy. And he still has a soul.”

Collecting her own bowl, she sat beside him. “How do youknow?”

He frowned, a bit confused why she was so interested in updatesabout Foggy. “We meet up. Talk about cases.”

“Did you ever apologize for not visiting him in the hospital?”she asked bluntly.

He felt himself flush. “Yeah.”

She waited a moment. “Good.”

What was that, some kind of test? If it was…he was prettysure he passed.

“What about you?” he asked tentatively. “How are…things?”

“Things,” she repeated, obviously unimpressed.

“I mean—” He broke off.

“Matt?”

“Shh,” he whispered.

“What?” she demanded, ever contrary.

“Someone’s coming.” He’d know that heartbeat anywhere. Hegot up from the stool, stood stiffly in the center of the room. “No, no, notnow.”

“Am I supposed to know why you’re freaking out?”

His hands curled into fists. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I’m so,so sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t realize he was following me.” Hadn’t even realizedStick was back in Hell’s Kitchen.

“How bad is it?” Claire sounded scared, but also like shewas trying not to be.”

He didn’t want to frighten her, but… “I don’t know,” he admitted.“It’s, uh, someone from when I was a kid. It’s the guy who trained me.”

She let out a whistle. “So, like, a superhero?”

“Ha,” Matt laughed grimly. “Stick’s not a superhero.” Hemoved to her front door. “He’s on the stairs.”

“But he’s a good guy, right?” She followed him, nervous butstill trying not to show it. “Right? Matt?”

“Not really,” he said heavily, resting his forehead againsther door. He couldn’t fight Stick like this, which…which…he shouldn’t have to,but Stick also shouldn’t be here atall.

His cane tapped along the stairs just outside her apartment.

Matt swore under his breath. “I’m gonna go take care ofthis.”

“Wait!” Claire grabbed his arm. It was his good arm, but hestill sucked in a breath as his ribs objected. “What’re you gonna do, pickanother fight?”

“If I have to.” He unlocked the door.

She slammed her shoulder against the door, shutting itfirmly. “Your mask’s on the floor.”

Right. Someone could see him. And now Stick was rightoutside. Planting his feet, Mat leaned against the door. “Stay back,” hewhispered.

Stick’s voice floated through. “Lemme in, Matty.”

It was enough to bring Matt back to a cemetery, standingover the grave of the woman he loved with the man who’d manipulated her intobecoming a weapon. Like he’d manipulated Matt.

“Matty,” Stick called.

“No está aquí,” Claire called back.

Matt sighed and wrenched the door open. “He can smell me.”

Stick wasted no time before strolling through, dropping hiscane by the counter. His left wrist was swollen. Sprained, maybe? “Anyone couldsmell you, Matty. Left a trail of blood thicker than a river. Might as wellhand out invites with her address on ’em.” He turned to flash Claire adangerous smile. “Nice to finally hear your heartbeat.”

That precious heartbeat sped up. “Excuse me?”

“Just that I’ve smelled you often enough, hanging out atMatty’s place.” He made a show of sniffing the air. “You’re a nurse. Or something. That explains somethings. Like why he’s still alive.” He slowly tilted his head. “And why you’realive too, I guess.”

“Is that a threat?” Claire asked in a low voice.

“No,” Matt said quickly. “He just has this stupid beliefthat anyone in my life will end up dead because of me.” Well, Matt wasn’tconvinced that it was actually such a stupid belief. But he told himself it wasstupid whenever it started echoing in Stick’s voice. He kept himself between them.“So you found me, Stick. Congratulations. What do you want?”

“It’s not about what I want, Matty. It’s about what youneed.”

“No. I don’t need anything—I’m done.” He risked a stepcloser. “We fought off the Hand, we buried the Black Sky. We’re done.”

“The Black Sky,” Stick said softly, bringing up his hand torest on Matt’s shoulder, his ancient fingers tapping against the thick materialof Matt’s suit. “How’re you doing with all that?”

“Fine,” Matt gritted out.

Stick jerked his chin at Claire. “Did he tell you his girlfriend’sdead?”

Claire’s lips parted.

It was like the broken piece of window was stabbing Matt’sheart instead of his arm. “She wasn’t—she wasn’t my girlfriend, Stick.”

“Oh, right, that was the other one. The reporter. Smellslike she cut you lose. Smart girl.”

“Don’t talk about her,” Matt snapped. “I gave you a chanceto tell me what you’re doing here, now—”

“Now what?” Stick drawled. “You’ll throw me out? You can barelystand up.” He took a casual step forward, like he was aiming to wander over tothe couch.

Matt shifted in front of him. “Leave.”

“If I do, it’s the same as leaving you and your new girlieto a horrible death.”

Claire stiffened, but she remained outwardly calm. As forStick, his heart beat steadily, but just because Stick believed something didn’tmean he wasn’t also insane. “Then Iwill deal with it,” Matt growled.

“No, you won’t,” Stick said derisively. “I heard you in thatwarehouse. You could barely get the kids out, and you left those men to keepdoing the same thing the second you look the other way. You’re not dealing withshit.”

“He saved those lives,” Claire cut in suddenly.

“Claire,” Matt warned.

“He saved those kids’ lives,” she insisted, edging up behindhim. “What’s your name? Stick? If you were there, why didn’t you jump in tohelp?”

Stick craned his neck like he could see past Matt standingbetween them. “Those kids, those men, it was all just a distraction. That’swhat keeps happening—he gets all caught up in all the wrong things, and as soonas the enemy strikes, he’s useless.” He paused. “I take it back. You can beuseful. You’d just be better off if you weren’t tied down by all that pity youcarry for every whimpering thing that’ll just die anyway once the war comes.”

Half of Matt’s brain was stuck on one single sentence—you can be useful. The other half wasfurious that Stick was still here. “WhateverI do, whatever I feel, it’s my business.”

“Until your bleeding heart gets you killed and I loseanother soldier.”

Suddenly, Matt was yelling. “Like you lost Elektra?”

Stick raised his voice to match. “We both lost her, and itwouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t dragged her off to save—”

“You knew she was the Black Sky—you would’ve killed her! Youtold me you would’ve—” He cut himselfoff, took a deep breath. “Are you back in this city because of some specificthreat or not?”

“I’m back because it’s time for you to get your head out ofyour—”

“Okay, great, we’re done.” Matt walked forward, straightinto Stick.

Stick didn’t budge. “The Hand’s coming. Whatever they’ve gotplanned, it’s big.”

“If they’re not here yet, I don’t care.” He shoved Stick.Stick shoved back, and Matt sucked in a breath as pain arced across his ribs.

“Matt.” Claire’s voice unsettled.

Stick drew his sword.

“Matt,” Clairegasped.

“Listen to your girlfriend, Matty. We need to have a chat.”

“Not my girlfriend, Stick.” Another shove.

Stick raised the sword, but didn’t strike with it. “If theHand comes back, you’ll just get her killed by playing around with her.”

See, that was the thing. That kind of logic made sense backhe was keeping everyone else tucked away in safe little boxes, boxes reservedfor best friends and secretaries and the kind nurse he had a crush on. Didn’twork so well for law partners who yelled at gang members and reporters who befriendedthe Punisher and the nurse who agreed to use her hospital for the Hand’svictims.

Actually, he should’ve known that logic didn’t work withClaire as soon as she pulled a masked vigilante out of her dumpster.

“Listen to me very carefully,” Matt said quietly. “I’ll doeverything I can to keep her safe. But if—if—somethinghappens to her, it’ll be because she decided that helping people is worth therisk. I definitely won’t keep her safer by staying away.”

Stick shrugged. “And then you’ll kill yourself when you loseher, and then I’ll lose you.”

Matt tilted his head. “And that bothers you,” he murmured. “Itbothers you because you broke your own rules. With me.”

“You’re useful,” Stick argued.

“You’re broken.” Another shove. Stick was at the threshold. “Iappreciate all you’ve done for me, I really do, but I don’t need you anymore.”

“Maybe not, but you will.”

Matt wanted to say, Youknow where to find me. But he also didn’t want to give Stick the slightesthint of permission. Not that Stick ever cared about permission. It felt like asmall victory to keep silent and just give him a final shove out the door.

“Take care of yourself, Matty.” Then Stick spoke a littlelouder, voice aimed at Claire. “I’ll see you around!”

“You won’t.” Matt shut the door. Locked it. Listened asStick hovered just outside.

Claire approached from behind him. “Is he still there?”

Matt didn’t move from his position. “Yeah.”

“And he can still hear me?” When he rolled his eyes inaffirmative, she put her mouth by the door. “Go put some ice on your wrist! Itlooks sprained!”

Matt shot her a look of exasperation. “What’re you—”

She pressed her hand to his mouth and cocked her head. Thenshe made a smug sound as Stick’s footsteps retreated.

Matt waited until he was mostly sure Stick was out of rangebefore finally stepping away from the door. “What was that about?”

“Bossing you around with concern over minor injuries hasalways been a surefire way to scare you off.”

“So you admit that a sprain is minor.”

“I admit that youthink a sprain is minor. Figured he’d have the same mentality.”

Matt stifled a grimace. “Yeah. We’re, uh…we’re a lot alike.”

“Not really.” Turning around to face him, she folded herarms. “Is he always like that?”

“Vaguely ominous? Pretty much.”

“I mean, is he always going on about how helping people isn’tworth it? Or how you’ll get people killed by playing around with them?”

He cringed at the phrase. “Yeah. He started in on that stuffback when I was a kid, when he was—”

“When you were a kid?”The shock in her voice was practically palpable.

Right. She was the first person since Elektra to know bothsides of his life, making it easy, sometimes, to forget how little she stillknew about him. “Uh. Yeah. He trained me to control my senses.” He paused. “Andto fight.”

“And he was telling you not to feel pity all the way backthen?” Her voice was tight with anger.

He wasn’t sure what to say that wouldn’t just make herangrier. “He wanted me to be a soldier.”

“Mierda,” shemuttered under her breath. “Explains a lot.”

What, exactly, did that explain? “It wasn’t that bad, Claire.In most ways, he saved my life. I could barely control my senses when my dadwas still alive. When I was in the orphanage, everything was too—”

“What orphanage?” Her voice was deadly calm.

Matt suddenly wished he was doing something. Eating, walking…evengetting stitched up would be preferable to just standing there, trying to fieldher questions. “St. Agnes.”

“I didn’t know,” she said softly.

“I didn’t tell you,” he countered, turning to shuffle backto his stool at her counter. Not that he was hungry anymore.

She followed, but didn’t sit. Instead, she stood close tohim, leaning against the counter across his legs. “Why didn’t he use his sword justnow?”

“Because he knows it would’ve killed me,” Matt said heavily.

“What?”

“It…it would’ve been a threat to you. So I wouldn’t havestopped fighting him.” Matt fidgeted with the material of his pants. “He didn’twant to lose me. Not before the war.”

“The war like…those ninjas who attacked the hospital?”

“Something like that.” He briefly closed his eyes. “If…ifthey come back, I’ll deal with it. I won’t drag you into it.”

She shook her head. “Like you told him, I’m here to helppeople.”

She was so…adjectives failed him. Matt swallowed. He’d toldStick she wasn’t his girlfriend. And she wasn’t.

But, oh, he wanted that. He still missed Elektra, and hestill missed Karen, but Claire…Claire was different. She wasn’t as destructiveas either of them and her moral compass was steadier than anything he’d everknown.

He still didn’t feel like he deserved her. Still didn’t wantto hurt her. But like everything else, that was her choice to make, not his. Andhe no longer believed the things Stick preached. So if he could bring her anyhappiness, any security, any…anything good, he’d do it. He cleared his throat. “Claire?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Can I…can I take you to dinner?”

She held completely still.

He was such an idiot. “I wasn’t—I mean—you can say no, Ijust thought—”

“I hope you’re not insulting my soup. It’s my mom’s recipe.”

“It was delicious,” he said weakly.

“What is this, then? Payment for me taking care of you?”

All right, he could spell it out, if that was what shewanted. “A date, Claire. I’m…I’m asking you on a date.”

“Huh.” Her arms wrapped tighter around herself, but he heardher heartrate picking up. “You’re concussed. You sure even you know what you’resaying?”

“I’m sure,” he said immediately. “Very sure.”

“You’re not just sticking it to that old man?”

She wasn’t saying yes. But she wasn’t saying no. He movedcarefully closer, reached out, found her hand. “Claire,” he said softly. “I’vewanted this for a long time. And you were right, before, to say no. I wasn’t…I’mnot proud of who I was.” He hesitated. “In many ways, I’m not proud of who I am.But—”

“I am,” she interrupted. “I’m proud of you.”

That right there was more disorienting than the hit to thehead. “What?”

“I’m proud of you,” she said simply. “And I can’t…I can’tpromise you more than a date, not yet, but—”

His heart leapt and he felt dizzy for very new reasons.

“I like Middle Eastern food.”

He was already nodding. “I can do that.”

“I have Thursdays off.” Suddenly, she was speaking veryfast. “Usually. Unless they need me, but I usually get a heads up. I’ll callyou if I can’t make it.”

“This Thursday?”

“Can we?”

He grinned. “Yeah. This Thursday. I know a great place.”

“I’ll trust your judgement.”

She trusted him. “Claire.”He said it just to savor the fact that he could. Drawing closer, he brushed thetips of his fingers against her wrists, then skimmed his hands up her arms torest on her shoulders. “Thank you. For everything.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “It was my pleasure.”

No lie, no lie in her heartbeat. One of his hands he slid overto the back of her neck; with the other, he lightly touched her lower lip.

She rose up on her toes to meet him with a kiss.

#Matt Murdock #claire temple #clairedevil #matt x claire #Daredevil #fic prompt

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jimlingss · 6 years

Text

The Bachelorette

Words: 6.4k of absolute garbage.

Genre: Crack - but it’s more like trash.

Summary: A shit version of BTS members in the reality television show The Bachelorette. I tried.

Notes: Happy Two Years, folks! To commemorate the anniversary of this writing blog, I wanted to draw back to the first thing I’ve ever posted here, which was a garbage drabble. Hence, here is an equally garbage short fic! Enjoy!

The screen flashes to white and scarlet rose petals begin to fall from the blue sky. There’s a tickering laughter and a chiffon dress that drags against the sand, high heels stopping.

“She’s the entire package. Brains, beauty, strength, personality.”

“Beautiful.” “Stunning.” “Gorgeous.” “Incredible.” “The real deal.”

You radiantly smile, blinding those around you as another laugh spills from your lips. The lovely flowers fall upon your hair and skin, decorating your body and causing you to blink away the ones that tickle your visage. “I’ve waited my entire life for this. And I’ve never been more ready to find love.”

“Y/N is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“She could really be the one.”

“But there’s never love without war.” Instantaneously, the monitor switches to several screens, flashing back and forth between them. “And the most shocking moment in Bachelorette history-”

You’re sobbing and crying, throwing a lamp across the room that silences every man. “Do you even care about me?”

A person is seen shaking their head directly at the camera in a private room. “Tensions are rising and it’s becoming unbearable. I just think he’s not here for the right reasons. And if it were me, I would never hurt Y/N like that. I only need a chance to prove it.”

“I’m really going to fight you!”

“None of them care as much as I do.”

“I’m not here to play games. I’m here to find love.”

There’s a massive ‘boom’ sound effect and the camera pans down to a polished man in a suit, hands behind his back as he strides out of a garden at night. “Hi, I’m Chris Harrison. Welcome to an exciting new season of the Bachelorette. Over the years we’ve had a lot of Bachelors and Bachelorettes come and go. But never have we seen anything like this before.”

“Y/N, our new bachelorette, has it all. She has a stable career, friends and a loving family. But from one bad romantic relationship to the next, she’s given up on love. Almost. That’s where we come in. Y/N can not only find love right here but find hope again. Let’s take a closer look at our new Bachelorette.”

The scene changes again, this time directly on you doing various activities, from going to the gym to cooking in the kitchen to entering your workplace. “I’m L/N Y/N, I’m twenty five and this is my last chance to find love!”

“All my life, I’ve been searching for my Mr. Right to sweep me off my feet and I think now’s the time. I’m ready to embark on this journey to finding love and opening my heart up. Who knows, maybe I’ll fall head over heels for one of these men.” A tinkering giggle streams from your mouth, a charming grin to match. It fades to black.

The nervousness begins to ebb at your bones. The cool night breeze laces through the strands of your hair and the light fabric of your red dress, flowing between your legs. Despite claiming so many times that you’re prepared, you’re not so sure anymore. This might be the defining moment. One of these people might actually be it. This would be the story that you tell to your future children.

A nervous laugh breaks through your pink lips, bated breath held between teeth and from your spot by the front mansion doors, you can see a black limousine begin to drive up. Eventually, it pulls over by the curb and the door opens.

A man with a half-eye moon smile appears in a crisp suit, his round cheeks nearly bursting and he tips his black fedora as he walks up the steps towards you. “Evening, milady. You are the most beautiful lady I have ever seen in my entire life. Not even the stars shine as brightly as you do. You are my lady of the night.”

You laugh, already melting from his sweet words. “Oh, you’re too kind.”

The screen switches, flashing over to the man knotting his tie correctly in the mirror. His voice layovers his actions. “I’m Park Jimin, twenty six years old and I’m a dental hygienist. I’m also a part-time model but a full-time women respector. I don’t understand why women are so mistreated in our society and in our world. It’s such a shame but I’m not like that. All I want is to share my life with someone special and I think Y/N can be the one. I know out of all the guys, I’m the only one who can treat Y/N right.”

The stranger reaches out, taking the back of your hand and laying a gentle kiss with his plump lips. “My name is Jimin and I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

He comes across as sweet and his aura is warm. Immediately, you feel at ease and you match his wide smile. “Well then Jimin, I’m looking forward to getting to know you too. I’ll see you inside the house.”

With a smile still plastered across your face, you patiently await for the next car. Once it parks and the door opens, you're instantly blown away.

“Hey, babe.” He winks. “The name’s Kim Namjoon. I'm twenty eight, personal trainer and I'm tired of working out my biceps, I want to work out my heart next.” The monitor alters to the dirty blonde doing push-ups on the gym floor, flexing in the mirror as well, wearing a thin tank top and black snapback. “My ex was crazy and it really messed me up. I'll admit, in the past few years, I've been a serial romantic but I really think Y/N can change me. I really hope she gives me a chance and we can see where this goes.”

Dimples crease on each side of his cheek, locks swept away from his forehead, right above his brow and he digs his hands deep into his pants pocket, casually strolling up to you. “Damn baby girl, why do you look so sexy tonight?”

You blush. “You’re too sweet.”

Namjoon reaches behind into his pocket and pulls out a single red rose. “I know you’re the one who’s supposed to give me one, but I decided to be the one to give it to you this time. You’re not like the others, Y/N. You’re beautiful and I hope you can open your heart to me.”

Without waiting for a response, he opens his arms, giving you a light squeeze before putting the flower in your hand and whisking away inside the mansion. You’re left a little awestruck before you clear your throat, turning back to the open road and waiting for the next person. But as a few seconds draws out to a few minutes, you grow increasingly confused. There are no cars approaching, or the sound or wheels rolling on the asphalt road.

It’s only after the longest eternity that you catch a silhouette making its way up the path.

The man-...boy...well you couldn’t be sure what since he wasn’t wearing a suit but a black sweater with the hood draped on his head, practically covering his eyes, strides forward. He was gliding as he walked too, ghostly steps that made you blink twice, wondering if it was really a phantom that was about to be caught on television. “Umm...hello?”

You attempt to dip down to catch his eyes but he flinches away and you notice his adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Hello.” His voice is smooth, melodic but quiet. “Nice to meet you.”

“My name is Jeon Jungkook.” There’s a dramatic sound effect and he’s found seated in a chair, in a dark corner with the curtains drawn. “I’m twenty four. Unemployed.” There’s more unsettling music that follows and he stares straight into the lense of the camera as if transfixed by his own reflection within it.

There’s a mysterious aura to him that you can’t quite put your finger on. But there’s no denying a slight magnetic attraction you feel towards the individual. Even from the corner of his hood, as you catch a slight smile of his lips, you feel your chest soaring. Though, it doesn’t last long.

He dips his head in a slight bow again and scurries away into the house, leaving you winded and speechless. You giggle at the strange behaviour but no sooner is the next person arriving, in a complete opposite fashion.

There’s loud drums that follow, people with instruments strapped onto their body. The tall man saunters up to you, dancing in a toilet costume. It’s ridiculous and makes you squeeze your stomach in laughter. “My name is Taehyung and I’ll take all the shit you throw at me!”

“Taehyung! Twenty seven and I’m a dental hygienist. In my spare time, I like to take long walks by the beach and write poetry. I like to play games and run around as well. All my life, I was never that great in school and even though my parents said it was okay, I still felt a missing piece in my life. It was only recently that I figured it out it wasn't about school at all but love. As long as Y/N sees me for who I am, I know she’ll like me!”

The strands of his brown hair poke out from his costume and you smile. “Looks like you’ll flush away my problems too, huh?” His boxy smile appears in return and he nods. You admit he’s a real cutie and you have to give him extra points on creativity, his hard efforts and how hard he made you laugh. He’s a funny one and it makes it all that more enticing. “I’ll see you inside.”

You’d never admit it, especially not when cameras are rolling a few meters away but you’re beginning to feel exhausted and overwhelmed, having been bombarded with handsome men for the past hour. Apparently there’s only three more left and you feel relieved but any exhaustion is quickly washed away when the familiar black limousine pulls up by the curb.

The door opens. You legitimately gasp aloud.

Tall. Dark. Handsome.

Anything you could’ve possibly wished for or imagined is put in a one package, one human. Your lashes flutter a few times, trying to make sure you’re not dreaming and the person smiles, buttoning up their suit and approaching the cobblestone steps in steady strides. He approaches you with a hesitant smile, the tips of his ears in a flaming hue of red and you bet your own cheeks are in the same exact shade.

“Hi.”

You nearly swoon right then and there. “Hi.”

“I’m Kim Seokjin.” He smiles and decides to shake your hand. His grasp is gentle, his smile a bit shy and perhaps even coy. Once he’s let go of you, you secretly yearn for his touch. “And I’m sorry but I don’t have any cheesy line or any special performance to show you. It’s just me.”

He shows himself in his most truest form, without any of the sparkles or pizzazz, any special one liners or winks. And somehow, it’s overpowering.

“Hello.” He smiles towards the audience, sitting straight in a chair. “My name is Kim Seokjin, I’m twenty five years old and I’m a dental hygienist. I’m not sure how I can describe myself. Um, I live a pretty mundane life. I go to work, come home and wind down but I really want to find someone special where I can share my life with. While I might not be one of the most exciting contestants this season, I really hope Y/N will be able to feel my sincerity. I’m looking for love and if she happens to be the right one, then I won’t hesitate.”

A childish, school girl giggle spills from your lips and you downcast your head, feeling too flustered to face him. “It’s alright. I don’t need anything, you’re already really sweet. Thank you.”

“I..umm…” He lingers for a second. “I guess I’ll see you inside.”

You hum, watching his backside disappear. “Yeah…”

There might be something there, you just can’t quite pinpoint it yet.

A man emerges from the bushes with a lopsided grin. “My name is Min Yoongi. I’m a twenty-five, a dental hygienist and I know Y/N is the one. I know it. I feel it. I even went a medium and our energy, it matches. Even our MBTI and our horoscopes. I didn’t say it, it’s written in the stars. It’s fate. We’re meant to be soulmates.”

Like his interview, Yoongi emerges from the bushes again by the side of the house and scares you shitless. You scream, jumping back, nearly twisting your ankle from the high heels and you put your hands over your chest, hyperventilating. He’s a bit short-statured but manages to climb over the railings and to the front door. You’re taken back, laughing nervously. “How long were you there for?”

“A while but it’s fine.” He’s without a suit jacket, his white shirt a bit marred from the dirt but he brushes it off, taking a leaf off his mop of black hair. Maybe you should feel a bit scared or be on guard but he has a rather cute aura, rounded cheeks and sleepy eyes. At the very least, he took the word ‘surprise’ with quite a literal meaning.

“Hello, L/N Y/N. My name is Min Yoongi and I’m convinced we’re meant to be.”

“Really now?” You chuckle, put a bit more at ease. “And why is that?”

“Because you’re the most beautiful soul I have ever met and astrology says so. Our ascendants and our venus signs match. The entire constellation graph works. Our MBTI are compatible, even our chinese horoscope claims so.”

You quirk your head to the side, brows furrowing a bit. “How do you know my birthday?”

Yoongi smirks lowly, his voice dropping to a vibrating timbre. “I know a lot of things about you.” He continues before you can further question him, “I already prepared our marriage certificate so the last barrier we need to overcome is this show. Are you ready to conquer this with me?”

“I-…” You nod. “I guess so.”

“Great.” He smiles, giving a gummy grin. “I’ll catch you later then, Y/N.”

The producer a little ways off appears appalled, expression twisted up in distaste but you give a small giggle. You liked all kinds of people, even if they were a bit bizarre and at this point, you were open up to anyone. There was one more person as well, so you try not to let your thought stray too off much and you stay within the present moment, waiting as the black car pulls up.

Unusually, however, it takes a few minutes for the door to open and when it does, the man is seen finishing up some kind of business phone call. As he walks up the steps, he bids the other person on the line farewell, pockets his mobile device and pulls off his sunglasses to meet you. “Hello. I’m Jung Hoseok, entrepreneur and business owner of my own startup company. It’s called Pink Panties, an underwear company. We make it out of the softest fabric-” he turns directly to the camera. “-and the official online shopping website will be launched in 2019.”

“That’s highly impressive.” Being career-oriented yourself, it’s nice to find someone who‘s ambitious as well. When he replies with ‘I’m fully aware’, you laugh.

The man throws his jacket over his shoulder, striding out the door at a quick pace and a million calls blowing up his phone. “I’m Jung Hoseok, entrepreneur and business owner at my own startup company for an underwear company. It’s called Pink Panties, similar to Pink Panther, the movie. Don’t worry, we’re in the process of being patented but we’re a legitimate company and we have many satisfied customer reviews-”

The interview gets cut short.

With no more men to meet, you brace yourself before entering the mansion where all seven contestants will most likely be in the living room, already scouting each other up and sizing the competition. All of them are so vastly different, captivating you in different ways, you’re not so sure what to think. Your brain is jumbled but there’s one thing that you are sure of-

Someone in this room is going to be your future husband.

For the next few days that pass, you spend as much time as you can with the boys, going on dates from each of them. All of the dates are at different venues, from luxurious restaurants to a special locations up the mountains. As you suspect, each of them have their own set of charms and at this point, you don’t know who you like more. All of them have their own qualities.

“I really enjoyed the helicopter ride with Y/N,” Hoseok muses and nods during his interview. “Being up there with her, it felt like we were on top of the world together and we really had a connection. For the first time, I really felt something. I can feel my walls coming down with her. More importantly, my underwear from Pink Panties never once shifted-”

Taehyung gulps, holding your hand while the sun sets and he nearly bumps into the metal pole. You laugh and he sheepishly smiles, scratching the back of his neck.

“The date was awesome but I didn’t get a chance to open up.” Taehyung grimaces, a somber expression written across his face. “It’s just so hard to talk about yourself. I get a bit overwhelmed because Y/N is just so pretty. She should put a bag over her head so I can concentrate better.”

On another outing, Jungkook sits a few meters away from you, his hat doing a good job of covering his face and you can’t even see his eyes from his long brunette bangs. There’s a bit of silence as you watch him and he stares back at you.

During the interview, he says only one thing towards the camera. “I’m really falling for her.”

Of all the men, however, you feel the most disconnected with Namjoon. He’s one of the most brazen and bold when it comes to approaching you, always dropping sweet lines out of nowhere, but you feel he hides his core personality. He’s distant and you’re not sure how to approach it.

“Can I tell you something personal? It’s because my ex was crazy.” He explains as the two of you sit at a bench outside, having your alone time with each other. “It really did some damage to me and I don’t know. I guess I just have a fear of falling in love.”

Your lips are pouty, eyes concentrated on his profile and you hum, acknowledging his tough past.

“Oh please.” Jimin rolls his eyes, tipping his black fedora. “Namjoon is an asshole and he doesn’t know how to treat ladies the way they deserve. He obviously doesn’t know how to treat Y/N they way she deserves. He plays around with women’s feelings and I would never do that. He’s not here for the right reasons.”

“Namjoon.” You reach out to graze his hand and his pupils connect with yours. “Do you trust me?”

There’s a pause and the corner of his mouth draws up into a blazing smile. “Of course I do, baby girl. You're not like the others, Y/N, and I’ve changed. You’ve changed me.”

You stand up, tugging him along and the two of you laugh together. “Then follow me.”

The two of you end up going to a place to skydive. You’ll be falling from the sky to overcome his fear of falling in love. “I feel like this will help us become closer.”

As ridiculous as it may seem, it turns out to be quite fun. It takes a lot of courage to take a step, off the plane but you both cling to your instructors and the adrenaline pulses through your veins. The wind whips through your hair and you scream in excitement. You can also hear his shouts from a ways off but soon, he joins your height and the both of you smile towards each other.

“It was one of the best experiences.” Namjoon breathes out in the interview, “I can really see my walls coming down with her. I thought we really had a connection.”

But it’s not always about you and the dates.

“That kid Jungkook is fucking weird.” Yoongi gives a disgusted expression, lowering his voice into a whisper. “He gives me the creeps.”

Jeon Jungkook is mumbling to himself in the kitchen corner, fiddling with something on a napkin. The moment Seokjin steps into the area, he slams into a moldy scent that singes off his nose hairs. He immediately pinches his nostrils, approaching in slow steps. “Umm...what are you doing?”

The boy in the black hood doesn't respond, simply muttering something incoherent. Jin frowns, swallowing hard. “P-pardon?”

“It's mung beans.” He says and scowls, drifting away from the are and holding the napkin straight to his chest. He enters the dark bedroom and stares at his competition for a minute straight through the crack before shutting the door.

“I’m not here to make friends,” he says during the interview. “I’m here for Y/N.”

As if the tension wasn’t high enough, one day, as you’re chatting with Jin on the sofa, there’s sudden banging on the front door that jolts you up. There’s shouting and screaming that follows, security guards sworming in front of the mansion. And you exchange one look with your current partner before heading upwards, skedaddling behind the other contestants. “What’s going on?”

There’s a slight tug of the corner from Namjoon’s mouth but you don’t notice the discrete movement, not when the rest of his features are appalled. “Taehyung has a girlfriend.”

“What?!”

The cameramen and women are all rushing to capture the scene while the lense practically pokes you in the cheek to take in your surprise and disgust. The other men are obviously completely enjoying the chaos and you all leave the house to watch the commotion by the entrance.

There’s an unfamiliar girl in a pink dress, somehow having climbed over the gate and she’s shrieking at a disorientated Taehyung. “You bitch bastard!”

“Mindy, what are you doing here?” He’s confused, a bit ditzy in the way he quirks his head to one shoulder, blinking innocently like he hasn’t done anything wrong at all.

“Why the fuck do you think I’m here?!” She marches up to him, taking her fist and whipping her arms uselessly at him. Taehyung lets out a few cries of pain and jumps up, just in time for security to grab her. “You lied to me, Taehyung! This isn’t your grandmother’s house!”

“I-uh…” He gulps. “I broke up with you, Mindy. It doesn’t matter.”

“What the hell?!” She fights against the men holding her back but they obviously don’t drag her away, allowing more screen time for this drama to unfold. “You didn't say shit to me! You just texted me that you were leaving and that was it!”

“Umm…” He sheepishly grins. “Oops?”

“What the-” She fights against the security but they finally restrain her from damaging his poor handsome face. “You know what? Go fuck yourself, Taehyung!”

With that, the so-called Mindy is taken and all the cameras point towards the man called and your own stunned expression. The guys try to comfort you, some of them obviously satisfied, but to no avail does it help you.

Namjoon throws his head back, giggling and laughing during the interview. “My god, Taehyung’s an absolute idiot.”

Jimin shakes his head, the fedora on his head shifting with the movement. “That’s not how you treat a lady. That right there is the complete opposite. I don’t think Taehyung or any of these people are here for the right reasons because I would never treat Y/N that way. A real man wouldn’t treat a lady like that.”

As the pandemonium settles down and you find yourself on the sofa in the living room, head in your hands, the others take their chances to swarm and insult the man in question. It’s a serious meeting and you’re nearly in tears, a sense of betrayal overwhelming you. You’ve been on dates with Taehyung, a man that may potentially be your husband, and here he is, having lied to not only you but someone else. That could’ve been you.

“Y/N...” The one that’s caused you so much pain approaches into the spacious, modern living room and the other contestants immediately stand up. “Can I steal you for a second?”

“Hey!” Jimin shoves Taehyung and blocks his way before he can get to you. “Don't talk about her like that! That's not how you treat a lady.”

“It’s fine, Jimin.” You lift your head out of your hands, standing and the sea of men reluctantly parts for you.

Taehyung eyes gaze into yours and he clears his throat. “I have something important to tell you.”

“Okay.” You allow him to take you away privately to the gazebo outside of the garden. There’s space between your bodies, one that he maintains out of respect and you prepare for what he’ll say. “What is it?”

“I wanted to say sorry.” Taehyung manages a soft smile. “Things are really complicated and she’s an ex. I broke up with her before I came here. Things weren’t good for a long time so you don’t need to worry about her. I’m here for you, Y/N, and only you.”

There’s a minute as the evening sun dips over the horizon where you soak in his words. While Taehyung is far from being the brightest crayon in the box, you can feel his sincerity and eventually, you nod. “Thank you for telling me this, Taehyung. I know it must’ve been difficult to bring up the past. I appreciate it and I want us to move on from this to get to know each other better.”

“Yes.” He grins. “That’s what I want too.”

At the end of the night, you both end up walking by the poolside together, hand-in-hand, admiring the beautiful city’s view.

But the peace doesn’t last long. Why would it in a house full of testosterone and when this is a reality television show meant to sate drama-thirty folks at home? You should’ve known.

“No one is as dedicated to this relationship as I am.” Min Yoongi puffs out his chest, snickers leaving his lips. “I’m gonna prove it.”

The guy ends up taking a train of cameramen and one of the producers to a tattoo shop. They exchange looks but none of them persuade him otherwise, for the sake of the show’s entertainment. And the guy simply lies down on the table, revealing his slim bicep to the artist.

“Oh. my. god.” You stumble backwards as he peels off the white bandage, having just entered the door and was asked by you where he’s been. The man reveals his still reddened skin but the black ink now entrenched into his flesh. “Yoongi!”

Taehyung appears from behind the pillar, jaw dropped to the ground. “Is that real?”

Yoongi grins a gummy smile, obviously proud of what he’s done. “Of course it is.”

Because right on his arm, is a giant ink picture of your face smiling and your name written in cursive underneath. A tattoo. Real. Permanent. Tattoo. Of your face. And your name.

Namjoon holds his palms up in defeat like he’s surrendering. “Dude got balls, all I’m gonna say.”

Seokjin sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “Why does it feel like I’m the only normal one around here?”

Before you can even address the issue of the tattoo and his horrible logic, there’s yet another issue.

“I’m really going to fight you!” Namjoon bumps his chest against Yoongi’s and the latter releases an icy chuckle.

“You wouldn’t be able to handle this.” His eyebrow cocks. “Not when your only exercise is fucking around.”

“Stop talking shit about and fight me.” And the two of them do just that.

Punches are thrown left and right, kicks and takedowns, bodyslams and chokeholds. They hurl each other left and right, fists aimed at cheekbones and groins. The others gather, Jungkook and Hoseok watching from afar, Jimin trying to intervene with Taehyung and Seokjin completely horrified over the display.

You find yourself by the banister and you wonder if anyone’s even here for you.

You’re sobbing and crying, throwing a lamp across the room that silences every man. “Do you even care about me?”

They stop, in the midst of grabbing the other’s shirt. The guys all turn and you run away with a hand cupping your mouth before embarrassment about the situation can devour you whole.

Park Jimin steals the limelight during the interview, holding his fedora to his chest. “Tensions are rising and it’s becoming unbearable. I just think he’s not here for the right reasons. And if it were me, I would never hurt Y/N like that. I only need a chance to prove it.”

Eventually, Jimin is the one to find you outside weeping and without saying much, he sits beside you and pulls you close, cradling your head and patting your back. You find comfort in his arms, able to calm down and you express your gratitude to his compassion.

Namjoon and Yoongi temporarily make amends for your sake and they both individually apologize. You forgive them, trying to put it behind you and focus on what’s actually important.

But the drama has yet to begin.

“So I had a business call early in the morning. Of course, business at Pink Panties is doing well. We’re able to keep cheap prices while paying our labourers well. Anyways, I really tried to keep my job seperate from the show since I’m here for Y/N but it was a really important emergency.” Hoseok is seated in his chair, one leg thrown over the other and he’s telling the story leisurely like he has all the time in the world. “So, I was trying to find an empty space as to not disturb the others and when I go down the hall and open up the bedroom...you wouldn’t believe what I find.”

“Is it true?” You whip your head away, drying your eyes with a tissue and Namjoon is at a loss of words. You sniffle, shoulders and frame quivering with your sobs. It doesn’t stop no matter how hard you try. And the camera focuses directly on you in a close up shot.

“Baby girl, baby girl. Don’t cry. I...baby girl, there’s only you, I promise.” He holds your hand within his. “We were just hanging out, that’s all. There’s only you in my life. I care about you, Y/N, and only you.”

You get yourself back together, holding up the pieces of your heart with makeshift glue and you gaze right into his eyes. “Namjoon, I want you to be honest with me. We can’t have a relationship, I can’t fall in love with you, if you aren’t honest. I want to trust you. So please, tell me what happened.”

The individual you’re facing is hesitant and you’re sure he’ll find some way to evade. It’s not like you want to hear it aloud anyways. You already know exactly what went on and the anarchy that was happening behind the scenes.

Namjoon slept with the producer.

As if life couldn’t get worse, the next day you wake up, there’s an atrocious cold sore right next to your lip, your throat is sore, you have a throbbing headache and a high fever.

It lasts for four days and on the fifth, the show’s remaining producers decides collectively to bring you to the doctor. What they tell you is equally petrifying to your symptoms- “It’s mono.”

Taehyung tips his head to the side, his lips pouty and eyes far-away in thought. “What’s mono?”

In another interview, Hoseok sighs. “Well, clearly, we know who got it first. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Hoseok said that? Fuck.” Namjoon laughs without mirth reaching his other features. “At least it wasn’t herpes.”

Seokjin exhales the longest breath, his temples already thumping with the added stress of his competitors. “Does this mean we all need to get checked?”

One thing’s for sure, you won’t be locking lips with anyone any time soon.

Yet, out of all the awful things that happen one after another, there are silver linings that occur in between. It’s just...they don’t involve you in any way, shape or form.

“You’re honestly a great guy.” Seokjin muses whilst the two of them are on the terrace together, enjoying some nice drinks, winding down from the eventful day.

“Thanks, bro.” Jimin smiles shyly, his eyes crinkling into half-moons. “To be fair, you’re pretty great yourself.”

There’s a moment taken and Jin sits back in his chair. His face is in a dreamy state, a sigh leaving his smiling lips. “I never thought I would meet such a great friend here. Jimin was an interesting character at first but I’ve gotten to know him and underneath it all, he’s actually a really sweet person.”

Hoseok shakes his head in another interview. “Those two are always going off on their own together and I don’t think they’re here for the right reasons. I’m here for Y/N and I’m not here to make friends. No one in the house knows what they’re doing.”

Jimin sheepishly grins and he shrugs, fussing with his fedora out of nervousness. “Jin and I have a lot in common and I like him a lot. I never thought I’d come on here to find someone so compatible.”

It’s a shit storm. At this rate, you’ll never be able to find love.

But the show must go on. It’s literally in your contract.

The moon is set high in the sky, the mansion quiet like it’s never been before. The lights are dim, candles flickering and lining the walls. All the men come in one by one in single file, gathering inside the room. The tension is high. You didn’t want it to be like this.

“Men.” The show’s host begins, breaking the solemn air. “There’s only six roses this evening. After all of this, one of you will be heading home. I wish you all the best.”

You appear and each of them smile at you, Jungkook chewing on some raw onions and Yoongi smirking at you, his tattoo showing in the flame’s luminescence. Every person has their own set of charms and personalities - you never thought making one decision could be so difficult. “This week has been very difficult for all of us. But for me, this experience is about finding a future and even the hard parts need to happen.”

A rose is held between your fingers and you take a gander around the room, soaking in all their features and all the nervousness found in their eyes. “Namjoon, will you accept this rose?”

He approaches in light strides, a grin plastered across his face. “‘Course I will, babygirl.”

Another one is brought to your hand. “Jimin, will you accept this rose?”

“It would be my absolute honour, milady.” He does an excessive bow in front of you, tipping his black fedora as if you were a princess.

As all the roses are given out and Hoseok’s hands are empty, you walk up to him, throwing your arms over his neck. The man embraces you and you hold back a sob. “I always thought you cared more about your career than me. I’m sorry, Hoseok.”

One ceremony after another. Hundreds of roses given out, red scarlet petals fluttering to the tiled floors. “Yoongi, I hope you can find a good tattoo removal place.”

“I thought we had a connection Y/N.”

“If this is the kind of person you’re looking for, then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“My future husband is in this room and it isn’t you.”

“I’m sorry.”

Days and weeks, date after date, kiss after kiss, and rose after rose. At the end, there can only be one.

“So-” The host settles down on the couch, ready to see what juicy details are rushing around in your brain. “-what are you thinking at this very moment, Y/N?”

You’re at a loss for words. “I honestly don’t know. I’m put in a very difficult position, Chris. On one hand, Jin is all I’ve ever dreamed about. He’s sweet and kind. He puts me at ease and I can imagine living a life with him. But then there’s Jimin and he’s sincerely the biggest gentleman I have ever encountered. He stands up for what he believes in, he and I share a lot of beliefs and I love that. There’s a connection there that I can’t refuse.”

The host adores every single word that spills from your lips, especially since it would put the audience in suspense for your choice. “So?”

You’re ready to rip out your hair. “I’m in love with two people!”

It’s the most shocking moment in Bachelorette history.

The entire nation is divided in half, hashtags trending on twitter and people screaming on instagram. But as they watch the scene unravel, you’re put even more crazed.

The breeze twirls into the strands of your hair. The sand is beneath your feet and the waves crash against against the shore, spraying a mist into the air. The candles are lit, glowing with the evening sun that dips on the horizon, reflected in the blue waters. It’s the perfect proposal.

“Y/N, from the first day I met you, I have been stunned. From the very beginning, I could be comfortable with you. I could be myself. You challenge me to be the best version of myself. You made me believe in love again and you are the one who gave me hope again. You are everything that I have dreamed for and more. There’s no one better that I would want to share my future and the rest of my life with. I love you so much. I love you, YN.” He gets down on one knee. “Will you marry me?”

You throw your arms around him. “Of course I will, Ji-”

The screen cuts to black and rose petals sprinkle from the sky.

The Bachelorette - even if it started all over again, you would always choose him.

#bts fanfic #wow I feel like I'm degrading my entire blog by posting this shit storm LOOOL #it's really difficult to write good crack and not bad crack #but YOLO am I riteee?#I'm not gonna even add this to my masterlist #it's just gonna be an easter egg for future readers #and I'm gonna shit myself if people think this is actually good or something #ANYWAYS I want to thank you to all readers and mutuals #whether you've interacted with me a lot or you're completely silent #thank you for existing #without you I wouldn't have been here for two years #I wouldn't have written as much as I did #Thank you.#jimlings

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thatbloodycountess · 7 years

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Home: Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Thunder and Lightning

This is a longer chapter. Ideas have been pouring out of me, hence the constant posting of new chapters. I hope you enjoy it!

2,101 words

Vicious storm clouds shrouded the sky above Duscae, thunder rumbling so loud that it frightened human and beast alike. They managed to reach Wiz’s just before the storm hit and took the opportunity to have a meal. Noctis’ headaches still lingered and they didn’t know where the Imperials took the Regalia. All of them were still reeling from Ardyn’s revelation in the crater.

Celes is his daughter.

The Chancellor offered no further details, aside from referring to her as a “poor excuse”. While Gladio didn’t trust anything the man said or did, even he had to quell his suspicions about Celes after that. He couldn’t imagine being tormented by his father. Clarus Amicitia was a good man and loved his family deeply. He would’ve never intentionally harmed his children. He could handle a behemoth but would break if he saw Iris cry. Prompto had been unusually silent, even after they arrived at the chocobo post. The animals usually lifted his spirits but not this time. He perused the gift shop to keep himself busy but it was easy to see that it wasn’t working.

Ignis sat at their table in the café reading the paper with a cup of Ebony. Nifelheim continued to be front page news, which made it a bit easier to find out where they were headed. It seemed they had quieted down after the Archean’s disappearance. The nearby radio pretty much confirmed the information. Gentiana paid them a visit urging them to seek out the Fulgarian, who was the source of the storm. Hopefully they wouldn’t run into the Chancellor this time.

Prompto shook the chocobo snow globe and watched as the artificial snow fell around the scene inside before returning it to the shelf. Normally, being around the chocobos would lift his spirits but he couldn’t shake the sadness that seeped into his bones.

“Even if she is a poor excuse for one…”

He knew what it was like to not be wanted. He lived his entire life with it and he hated to hear that another person lived with it too. Now, she was probably locked up somewhere being subjected to horrible treatment and there wasn’t anything any of them could do about it. Well…not yet anyway. His phone buzzed from his pocket. Prompto found a text from Noctis.

“We’re heading out.”

Prompto headed for the exit of the gift shop but a display at the register caught his eye. The round wooden display was covered with keychains. There were chocobos, cactuar, carbuncle, and moogles in neat rows. Prompto quickly purchased one of the moogle keychains and left the shop to rejoin the others.

Gentiana’s words reverberated in Noctis’ head as they entered the wilderness to complete Ramuh’s trial. Rain pounded the area, soaking all of them through and through. The muddy terrain made traversing the area difficult and slowed them down but they persisted. Thunder rumbled overhead, threatening to send the Fulgarian’s fury down upon them. With each stone pillar found, Gentiana words guided them to another. Aside from the beasts indigenous to the area, they ran into little opposition.

Gladio stopped them before they turned the corner around one of the large cliffs surrounding them. He peered around the rock wall and gave the signal that all was well. Noctis led the way into the narrow pass, spotting what he hoped was the final stone pillar amongst thick vines and brush. He approached the pillar and pressed his palm to it. Purple lightning emitted from the pillar and filled the prince’s body. Noctis’ eyes glowed red as he withstood the impact. He felt the Fulgarian’s power pour into every part of him before the lightning dissipating. The red glow faded shortly after, returning his eyes to their usual blue. The covenant complete, he turned to his friends as the storm clouds receded revealing the light of day once more.

With that task complete, they could now focus on getting the Regalia back. They took the most direct route to the road to get their bearings. Ignis suspected that the vehicle was likely at one of the newly established Imperial bases in the region. It was easily reachable on foot and not too far from their current location. They began their trek across Duscae towards the base, eliminating any beasts they came across. Noctis’ headaches had subsided much to his relief, allowing him to focus on the task at hand.

They reached the base as dusk approached. A watchtower stood a few hundred feet away from the base. It was made of wood, not meal, leading them to believe that either hunters or ENERGIS staff built the tower and that the Imperials hadn’t gotten around to destroying it just yet. The tower was tall enough to allow them to see over the walls of the base to get an idea of what they were in for. Naturally, the place was swarming with MTs and other Magitek machinery. Sitting in a more secluded part of the base under heavy guard was the Regalia.

Ignis suggested they utilize the nearby haven to rest and formulate their plan. They would sneak into the base under the cover of darkness. That would be the easy part. Ignis would have to craft their strategy once inside. There was immense risk to start but they didn’t have any choice if they wanted to recover the Regalia. One false move and they would be overrun as they would be outnumbered. But Ignis Scientia didn’t earn his moniker as The Strategist for nothing. With a partial plan established, they waited patiently for nightfall.

Ignis led the way towards the base, finding a hole in a chain link fence. They crept through the hole and hurried as quickly and quietly as they could, taking refuge behind a group of wooden crates. Noctis moved to strike but Ignis silently raised his hand to stop him. The prince complied as his advisor quickly surveyed the area. There were a few large tanker trucks in the area that would provide decent cover.

He crouched down. “We need to clear these soldiers before we can proceed.”

“Leave it to me.”

Noctis disappeared in a haze of blue light, reappearing just before he plunged the blade of his sword into the back of an unsuspecting MTs neck. The solider collapsed in a heap as he took cover behind the closest truck. He looked to Ignis, who signaled the location of another in a nearby guard post. Noctis nodded and eliminated the MT near him as soon as its back was turned, catching a glimpse of the tower. He warped to the tower and took the sentry out before he could be spotted and immediately crouched down. There were four more soldiers patrolling that area alone. He signaled to Ignis that he would take care of it. He monitored their movements for a few moments. The attack had to be flawless in its execution. All four needed to be destroyed before they could sound the alarms.

He warped off the tower and decapitated the first and went after the second before the body could hit the ground. His blade sliced through the torso of the second and he immediately took out the third. The fourth had its back turned, making it easy to kill with a simple blade through the skull. He quickly rejoined the others and proceeded further into the base. Ignis spotted another guard post with a sentry on duty. Noctis warped to it and quickly took out the MT. He waited until the others moved further in, concealing themselves behind another tanker truck. Ignis moved to the rear and peered around the large fuel tank to stay in eyeshot of Noctis.

He surveyed the area, spotting the Regalia surrounded by just four MTs and immediately suspected a trap. They couldn’t just leave it. He quietly told Gladio and Prompto to be ready before signaling Noctis to go ahead and strike. Noctis warped from the guard post and destroyed the first MT. The alarms immediately went off as more MTs stormed the area. To make matters worse, a Magitek armored unit appeared and quickly opened fire.

“Noct!” Ignis shouted, pointing at a Gatling gun posted on a tower high off the ground.

The strategist fired off a round of Sagefire to cover Noctis as he warped to the tower. Prompto whipped out his autocrossbow and fired a spray of bolts at the enemy with Gladio focusing on the armored unit. Noctis turned the heavy artillery on the armored unit first, the bullets quickly piercing its defenses. Gladio swung at one of its legs doing significant damage but the blow didn’t bring it down. The armor fired a barrage of missiles at Ignis and Prompto but they managed to dodge at the last minute. Noctis didn’t relent in his attack, turning the bullets into the leg that Gladio swung at just moments before. It erupted into flames, bringing the marauder down to one knee.

Ignis used Sagefire once more to eliminate another cluster of MTs but cursed when more swooped in to take their place. They were being overrun and it was only a matter of time before they exhausted themselves. Noctis could see the writing on the wall from his vantage point and made a split decision. His eyes glowed red as he felt his power well up in his chest. Storm clouds moved in overhead with lightning that lit up the night sky. A towering figure, that of an old man, appeared before them and scooped up the prince in his grasp. With one wave of his staff, he brought the lightning down upon the MTs and the armored unit destroying them in a single blow. Ramuh set Noctis down onto the ground before vanishing as quickly as he appeared. Noctis fell to one knee to collect himself as the dust settled. Prompto’s eyes widened as a tall and imposing man heading their way. Dressed mostly in white, aside from a mechanical left arm, with platinum blonde hair his gaze was locked on the Prince of Lucis.

And he didn’t look pleased to see him.

“Noctis…it’s been far too long.”

The prince whirled around to find Ravus Nox Fleuret approaching them. The metal fingers of his left arm flexed as he withdrew his sword.

“I see you’ve achieved the Fulgarian’s blessing…with ignorance as to the consequences.”

He raised his blade to attack Noctis but Gladio intervened with his great sword but Ravus was at least a head taller and physically stronger than the shield. He knocked him back against the driver’s side of the Regalia as if he were nothing.

“A shield that can protect nothing. Useless.” Ravus sneered.

Gladio got to his feet and went to strike again, only to be met with the Ravus’ blade to his throat. Ignis took a step but then immediately thought better of it. Noctis tapped into his inherit power, his weapons materializing around him.

“And what about you?” he retorted. “Pledging your loyalty to the very people hunting your sister down?!”

“That’s enough!”

Ardyn sauntered up to the group as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Despite the Chancellor’s presence, Ravus kept his blade at Gladio’s throat.

“What do you want now?” Noctis demanded.

“Absolutely nothing.” he answered. “I’ve sent the army away and have no intention of asking for anything in return. See what a nice guy I am?”

“We don’t need anything from you.” Gladio glared at him.

He ignored the shield’s comment. “It seems we both have business with the elemental mistress. I do wish you safe travels, Your Majesty.”

Ravus withdrew his blade and left without another word.

“Where is Celes?” Prompto demanded.

Ardyn merely regarded the gunner with a chuckle before departing.

Ignis paid close attention to how the Regalia ran as they headed back towards Lestallum. Everything sounded fine meaning that the vehicle wasn’t tampered with. Gladio was still very much enraged over the encounter with Ravus while Noctis simply stared out his side of the vehicle. Prompto tried to busy himself with going through the photos on his camera.

Upon returning to the Leville, they found a hysterical Iris waiting for them. While they were away, Nifelheim soldiers appeared and detained them. Upon hearing that they were from Insomnia, due to an accidental slip of the tongue from Talcott, they interrogated them about Noctis. They tried to convince them they didn’t know where the prince was but things quickly turned violent. Jared stepped in to defend Iris and Talcott but ended up losing his life.

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv fanfiction #final fantasy oc #noctis lucis caelum #gladiolus amiticia #ignis scientia #prompto argentum #ravus nox fleuret #ardyn izunia #celes raye #home

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elialys · 7 years

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P/O/Etta fanfic - Silent Night

To be honest, about 75% of the writer in me is unhappy with the fact that I’m posting this even though it’s only been roughly edited and I hate myself. But I’m ignoring the anxious perfectionist in me, because it’s January 18th. Our beloved show ended four years ago, and it wouldn’t be a fringeversary to me if I didn’t post a little something to honor my undying love for everything Fringe.

Being a first year teacher who works about 14 hours a day, I actually wrote most of this during Christmas break, hence the "vibe” of this story. Then I went back to work, hence me not editing it 300 times. I miss writing. Just like I miss these guys.

Always.

...

SILENT NIGHT

...

She slowly emerges from a kind of sleep that is both unusual and familiar.

Unusual, because for most of her life, she’s always been able to go from being asleep to fully aware within seconds. Familiar, because there had been a time a few years ago when falling asleep meant sluggish awakenings, with heavy limbs and a hazy mind.

Tonight, Olivia doesn’t fight it. She lets her body reconnect with her surroundings one sense at a time. With her eyes still closed, smells are what come first; burnt wood, and the vestige of aromas that had permeated the room around dinner time. Peter had outdone himself, the way he often does when in a mood – this mood. Olivia hadn’t touched much of the food herself, but he hadn’t seemed to mind, his daughter’s appetite making up for his wife’s lack thereof.

“Never underestimate the size of a Bishop’s stomach,” Walter once said, when Etta was five months old and already voracious, having just discovered solid food.

Sounds come next. The TV appears to be off, and what had been a dancing a fire earlier has died down, only emitting scarce noises; she’s not cold, though, still covered by a blanket. That’s what her body tells her then, along with the fact that she’s blissfully not nauseous anymore. She feels softness beneath her palm, her hand still extended the way it was when she fell asleep.

Still curled up on the couch, she flexes her fingers lazily, loving the silky feel of Peter’s hair against her skin, and loving the shivers that run under his even more when her nails lightly scratch his scalp. She’d drifted off with her hand in his hair, having spent a timeless moment running her fingers through it; it always gets a bit too long around this time of year, and she can’t say she minds it.

Olivia opens her eyes, all of her focus on him now. He hasn’t moved, still sitting on the floor at her feet, leaning against the couch. His head has fallen back toward her, but it’s tilted to the side, toward the fireplace. Even though she can’t see his face, and she wouldn’t have been able to see much in the poor light, she doesn’t need visual evidence to know his mind has wondered off probably a while ago, looking at the fire.

That’s one of the only ways she still loses her husband; she loses him to his own mind.

She moves, then, uncurling herself, her limbs no longer numb but stiff. Almost soundlessly, she slides off the couch, soon curling up again, against his sides this time, having taken the blanket with her. He helps her put it over them both without a word, wrapping an arm around her, as she does around him.

Her nausea is gone, but this simple change of position was enough to give her a head rush, making her feel faint and lightheaded for a moment; her nerves tingle beneath her skin, causing her to shudder as she snuggles up to him. The sensation isn’t exactly uncomfortable, and not entirely unknown either, but it is odd, making her all too aware of her body again.

Although the wave quickly recedes, the flutters persist a few seconds longer within her stomach, her mind playing tricks on her, now. It’s way too early for this.

Having felt her shudders, Peter has tightened his hold on her, his lips atop her head. “Feeling better?” He murmurs into her hair.

Olivia nods against his shoulder, her nose pressed to his shirt. Against her side, his thumb is drawing small, distracted circles over her shirt. She feels him breathe in deeply; the sigh that follows is just as deep, the shift of his head upon hers letting her know he’s brought his gaze back to what’s left of the fire. She tilts her head to look at the hearth further in the room, covered with nothing but red embers. She’s not close enough to feel their heat, but the thermal energy they give off would be pale compared to the warmth of Peter’s body anyway, building up with hers under the blanket.

She soon turns away from the embers, closing her eyes again as she presses her nose once more into her husband’s shirt, breathing in and out slowly, until his essence has invaded every inch of her.

She knows she’s lost him again, from his distracted caress against her side, to the fact that he’s not fussing more about her recent bouts of queasiness. One would think that after seven years, he’s simply learned not to fuss when she’s unwell. But despite her moments of exasperation caused by his over-protective nature, Peter never stops asking, never stops fussing. He never stops caring.

And it’s not that he doesn’t care about her, or that she’s feeling ignored, that’s beside the point.

The point is, she’s six weeks pregnant, at least, has known for sure for five days now, and Peter has not picked up on any of the clues. If he has, on some level his genius brain always operates on, it hasn’t reached his conscious mind yet.

Again, she’s not upset. She’s aware of the pain he’s in. After what they’ve experienced, what she’s seen him do in these situations, she’s grateful he’s dealing with his grief the way he is. It kills her inside, this sorrow of his, and she’s not unaffected either, between her own heartaches and the odd ripples that followed them back in time. But even after two and half months, the feeling that still dwells in her day after day after day, is relief.

Relief is what makes her seek him out every chance she gets. While displays of affection were never rare when in the privacy of their home, he used to be the main instigator; there’d always been a kind of shyness on Olivia’s part, something holding her back, keeping her from being as affectionate as he was, even with her own child. For fear of losing it all if she let herself need them so blatantly, maybe.

She’s learned her lesson. She lost it all, lost them both, suffered her punishment.

She now lives her life every day as Walter intended her to live it – with her family, loving them and needing them with every fiber of her being.

Feeling the brief yet increased pressure of her hold on him, Peter’s arm tightens around her. His soft caress even stops as he moves his hand, splaying it over her stomach, which has already become firmer; maybe his subconscious has caught up on some things already.

She could just say it, murmur the words against his shoulder, near his ear. She knows how he would tense then shudder against her, knows how beautiful his smile would be, how bright his eyes, and how soft his kiss. With a handful of words, she would push away his grief, too consumed with joy and love at the thought of their unborn child.

Selfishly, she wants to share her secret with him, simply to see all these proofs of how much he will care for her baby, the way he’s done for Etta from day one.

Yet, Olivia bids her time, choosing to remain quiet.

Peter needs to let himself grieve right now, to embrace the loss of his father, at a time of year when he used to be such a big presence in their lives – singing carols days and nights, baking mountains of cookies.

She needs to let him be a child, before she asks him to be a dad.

“I think I’ll go to the Mass, on Thursday.”

He speaks the words quietly, but not quietly enough. His voice is low, and thick.

Her arm moves, unwrapping it from around his waist to bring her hand up, weaving her fingers through his slightly–too–long hair. Tugging gently, she brings his face down to hers to press a kiss to his jaw, lips lingering upon his jugular.

She pulls away, then, looking at him in the soft glow of the embers and of their Christmas tree’s lights. They had let Etta pick the color theme this year, now old enough to appreciate this a lot more than the previous times. She’d chosen red and blue, a bittersweet irony neither her parents had missed.

Peter had closed his eyes at her touch, now reopening them to meet her gaze. She doesn’t ask him why he wants to go, nor does she ask if he wants her to come. Even if Etta had been older and allowed to join the late service, she wouldn’t have offered. These past few years, the Midnight Mass had become one of the Boys’ rituals.

Walter’s relationship with God had been a strange, fascinating thing, one she knew to have been tightly linked with everything that happened after he’d crossed over.

“We used to go to the midnight service every year, me and my mom,” Peter once told her, in this timeline or another. “I can’t remember Walter ever coming with us. If anything, I remember him mocking her for her faith, especially in the last years.”

Olivia remembers the look on Walter’s face three year ago, when on Christmas Eve, he’d asked Peter if he would mind giving him a lift to the church.

“I’ll go with you, Dad.”

Peter had never been religious, but their daughter was born three months ago. Even as a non-religious person herself, and knowing what this meant for them as a family, Olivia had understood the appeal, just like she understands it tonight.

And so she nods with a small tilt of her head, her fingers soft in his hair. “I’ll wait up,” she says quietly, closing her eyes moments later when he leans his forehead against hers, bumping her nose with his.

Already, his hand has moved, having left her stomach, now travelling over her thigh. His caress his slow, undemanding, yet shivers break beneath her skin, incapable not to respond to him. In the aftermath of the reset, there’d been a hunger in their touch, one they’d indulged as often as their life allowed them to – having a three-year-old who’d inherited her mother’s sleep pattern could present some challenge.

The first couple of weeks had been particularly strange, adjusting to this new shift in time, to this empty space Walter had left in his wake, all the while relishing every moment spent together, all three of them, or just the two.

When she’d experienced the first symptoms of pregnancy, she wasn’t surprised, considering she’d chosen not to bother with birth control anymore. Some might have discussed it with their husband, first, but there had been no need. Peter never hid the fact that he would have as many children with her as she agreed to have, even if in the past three years, that number had been firmly locked on one.

And it’s not that she came back to this life with the need to have another child. She simply felt more at ease in her own skin, more at peace, as both a woman and a mother, ready to welcome another little soul into their family, if it were to happen.

As she moves her lips back to Peter’s neck, clutching a fistful of his hair between her fingers, his hand now inside her shirt, she’s not surprised it happened so fast, her every cell always trying to meld with his, it seems.

Olivia is not surprised either when another sensation soon tugs at her insides, one that has nothing to do with lust, or with what hides deep within her womb. She stops moving, stilling in Peter’s arms; she pulls her face away from his neck, leaning sideways to look toward the other end of the living room.

Etta is half-concealed, still in the hallway for the most part, if not for some toes, her nose, one eye, and long strands of disheveled hair.

“Come here, baby,” Olivia calls out softly, Peter shifting to open up the blanket.

Etta doesn’t need to be told twice. She’s already halfway to them, everything in her demeanor letting them know she’s more asleep than awake. She never was a heavy sleeper, but ever since the reset, she’s been prone to nightmares; they all are. Her brave girl rarely cries as a result, but she will regularly join them in the dark of night. She always knows where to find them.

Tonight, like every other night, Etta goes for Olivia’s outstretched arms, her sleepy eyes not even stopping on Peter. During daytime, she’s a daddy’s girl through and through, but after nightfall, when instincts guide her and she longs for warmth and safety, it’s her mother she seeks.

And tonight like every other night, warmth and safety is what Etta finds, curling up against her chest, her breath soon tickling Olivia’s neck, even as she herself snuggles up against Peter once more, while he drapes the blanket back over them all. She buries her nose in Etta’s messy locks, her fingers intertwining with Peter’s over their baby’s back

Feeling her husband’s breath in her hair, and her daughter’s against her skin, Olivia closes her eyes, and lets herself love them.

....

Yeah, I know. At least it’s less depressing than what I posted last year.

Smooches smooches my lovely fringies.

#fringe #fringefox #Peter x Olivia #fringeversary #polivia #fic of mine #writing #once a p/o writer forever a p/o writer #aka i will still write about them when im 98 you cant stop me

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claytonsarah1990 · 4 years

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