#designated old man fucker host

[toppamplemousse]

This is canon btw. If you read between the lines. I never once mention it but it’s canon

That Enzo x Charles fanfic awakened something in me. What if the ghost of Enzo Ferrari impregnated Charles before both Monza's and that's how he secured the wins

@toppamplemousse IS THIS WHAT HAPPENED. link to fic btw

[dreamland-arcade]

FHS cast headcanons/ how I'd re-characterize them part 1

Los Animatronics: Weird Kids!!!! These were the fools who roleplayed their childhood interests at recess.

Freddy Brown:

>Freddy and by extension Fred are weirdly obsessed with horror games. Freddy was exposed to the internet at an early age and ran into those scary RPG maker games. Mad Father and Yume Nikki are his favourite games. Will say random shit that he thinks relates to the situation but in fact doesn't. "This is JUST like when the ghost threw Mayu at a wall at high speeds, killing her on impact." Safe to say, he never had a lot of friends back at his old school. >Also, due to his intense childhood trauma, he developed DID and his first and only known member is Fred. >Has borderline personality disorder but takes medication to null it. >Romantic disaster. Tried to confess to a guy he liked back at his old school but it went so poorly that he was the face of ridicule for months until he transferred to FHS. (And my favourite headcanons) Gender + pronouns: Trans man, he/him Sexuality: Bisexual

Fred Shadows:

>Like Freddy but way more intense. Really leans into the gorey horror games, and makes distasteful jokes about character deaths. He would be the fucker to make "Sayori hanging around" "jokes." Eventually his behaviour got Freddy in deep trouble so for the safety of his host, he chilled out. He still makes jokes from time to time, but mostly at the expense of Freddy and his emotional attachment to the characters he likes. >Due to being the first and only known member in Freddy's system, his appearance is heavily based on the host considering Freddy knew nobody else other than his mom at the time, so Fred's visual appearance resembles Freddy's. Though eventually Fred did decide to change his appearance to better reflect himself than be similar to his host's. Also they aren't related. >Hopeless romantic mixed with a romantic disaster. Gets jealous whenever Freddy shows interest in anyone else due to his own attachment to his host. Afraid of what will happen to him if Freddy starts a relationship with someone (Spoilers: nothing. He's just jealous. Also Freddy is his FP which exemplifies his jealousy. Can you tell I'm projecting?) I'm not gonna beat around the bush, I have an agenda and it's liking Frededdy. Fred has a stupidly big crush on Freddy but doesn't know how to go about it or how Freddy would react so he hides how he feels and covers it up with basic jealousy and the fear of losing him. > Fred gets the worst of the body's BPD and it makes him more annoying to deal with and Freddy seem like a problem child. Gender + pronouns: Nonbinary, any pronouns (defaults to he/him) Sexuality: Bisexual, fem lean.

Ann Chica:

> Ann was a Warrior Cats kid. Ann *still* is a Warrior Cats kid. She used to hiss at classmates who annoyed her. Calls herself the hollyleaf or whatever of FHS. > Ann has BPD and is unmedicated. Her shift in moods has killed off all of her potential friendships and while it would take a toll on her mental health, she held on to her relentless optimism, unfortunately to a toxic degree. This has also killed off budding friendships. >Changes interests every few months. During the start of the story she's been hyperfixated on fashion design. But she eventually drops it for baking and then being an artist. > Her first true friendship is with Aiden Fox, who still stuck around her despite her behaviour. She's grateful to have a friend like him. And when Freddy transferred to FHS, Gender + pronouns: Demigirl, she/they Sexuality: Pansexual

Bonnie "Bo" Coelho:

> Conspiracy theory kid. Aliens, reptilian government, cryptids, you name it, he's deeply invested in it. Head of the "Cryptid Club" at FHS, and surprisingly not the only member. His weird and offputting personality does put a strain on his relationships with the club members. > AUTISTIC!!! This boy is autistic and there is nothing you can do about it. All of his mannerisms make him come across as someone who lacks empathy, but that's just his disposition. He is a quiet speaker, speaks in disjointed sentences, and is very blunt with his words. Doesn't know how to express how he feels so he never talks about his feelings, often putting them to the side. > Is genuinely convinced Bon is a werewolf and stalks him frequently to see him in his "true form" and be swept off his feet and get married. Also admires Bon's guitar skills and views him as a god among men. This is awful for Bo's mental health and self esteem but he recovers from this phase after he and Bon start dating. >Him and Onnie are cousins, and Onnie often picks on Bo for being the way that he is. Bo thinks that Onnie hates him and feels the most insecure around him. Gender + pronouns: Bigender, he/it Sexuality: Gay demisexual demiromantic

Aiden "Fox" Addams:

> The most annoying anime fan you have ever met. Not many people know about this but those close to him know about his undying love for anime, and will often roleplay as his favourite protagonist. And yes he used to Naruto run in the halls, and still does when nobody's around. > Puts up the toughest front around people. He's really insecure about his maturity so he comes off as cold and hostile to protect himself. Though this attitude makes people like him less and therefore he has no friends. And the friends he does have he met through odd circumstances. >Only became friends with Ann because of an unrequited crush on her. Was weirded out by her personality and only stuck around because she was cute. Eventually came to terms with his feelings and realized that his feelings for her were nothing more than platonic, and confessed to her about this. The two are BFFs are Fox would literally kill anyone if Ann ever got hurt. >Used to bully Bo for being weak and weird until he learned that Bo was just like him, and felt bad for picking on him. Tried to apologize to Bo but ended up making things worse and made Bo hate him. The second apology attempt with Bo came out worse, Fox sobbing through an apology trying to explain how sorry he is that he didn't mean to make Bo hate him, and that he's bad with words and Bo realized that he and Fox are in the same situation. Bo accepted his apology and Fox promised to be nicer. >Strained relationship with his sister Meglody. After the death of their father, Fox distanced himself from Meg with the excuse "I want to be independent" but the truth is that he doesn't want her to see him as weak in any way. Him and Spring are closer and call themselves "brothers from another mother." >Fox's first introduction with Freddy was Fox getting pushed by some kids in the hallway and into the lockers, but to fix his balance, he slammed into the lockers, unbeknownst to him, accidentally pinning Freddy in the process. The two sat in uncomfortable silence until Ann called Fox to which Fox embarrassingly slid away, without breaking eye contact with Freddy. (This sparked an unwanted crush on Freddy by Fox and it was made worse when Fox found out that he and Freddy were in the same classroom.) Gender + pronouns: Nonbinary, he/him Sexuality: Straight (or queer unlabeled)

Gina Golden:

>The only normal kid out of the group. Doesn't have a weird or offputting interest to set them apart from other people, except for them being born into wealth. >Was kicked out of their home for being a trans woman. And will never be welcomed back unless she detransitions. The first person she came out to was Joy, who celebrated her almost immediately. Golden was closeted at the time of meeting Los Animatronics, but after coming out to Joy, decided to gather the courage to come out to her band. They all accepted her because of course they did!!! >Because she was born a child prodigy, everyone sees her as perfect, and due to this, it makes her afraid to start a new hobby. She's immensely insecure with herself and wants to avoid the spotlight in fear of failure. Ann is helping her overcome this fear. >Has a crush on Ann. Gender + pronouns: Trans woman, she/they Sexuality: Lesbian

[hunterwritesstuff]

Oh? Ebony!

So like, I'm still working him out a bit(He's really old and used to. not be a guy-), but like, the bit I have figured out so far is really cool to me! :D

Under cut because the only real ref I have done for him so far has like. Gore in it-Also, like, cult mentions, implied abuse, blood sacrifice mentions, implied self harm, stuff like that.

So like, already, from his design alone, this fucker's been through the ringer.(Growing up in a family-run cult will do that to ya)

The Overlord Surge form is a concept I've toyed with for him, in that some of his dad's power got passed down to him, but like. It's a LOT for Ebony to handle, so he sorta like, reverts to a feral mindset, basically attacking anything that moves until he's exhausted himself.

(Also, because he's based off of one of my plushies I have, he's a plushie demon and poofs when really hurt or overly stressed LOOK AT HIIIM-)

In life, Ebony was always the black sheep of the family, always fighting for his parents' approval and pride. Despite all the times he took the place of supplying blood for their cult's blood sacrifices, they always preferred his siblings over him. Eventually, he met someone who he thought would get them to finally be proud of him.

This was back before he like, knew he was transmasc and aroace(Hell, if he knew he was trans, he couldn't tell anyone, and Aroace wasn't a label until MUCH MUCH MUUUCH later), so he sorta. forced himself to fall in love with the person he found.(Jax, we hate him here /lh) He finally earned his parents' approval(he was the only one old enough for them to feel it was fine for him to date), but unfortunately, because of how HARD Ebony forced himself to think he was in love, Jax thought he was as obsessed with him as Jax was with him(or her at the time, but I refuse to type that out).

One evening, he ran away from home for a bit, hiding out in a jazz club somewhere. There he met a man with a wide smile and friendly demeanor. He introduced himself as a mere radio-host popping in for a nice evening of relaxation.

After he proved Ebony could trust him, the two became fast friends.

Ebony doesn't remember how he died.

Post-Death, Ebony's sorta stuck working for his family's theatre until he meets Alastor and gets offered a deal. Eventually, Ebony takes it out of desperation to get away from his family, finally being able to sleep restfully at night for the first time in years.

Although, sometimes, he looks at Alastor and feels he looks familiar in some way.(And his body gets the flight response something fierce) But that'd be silly! Right?

If ya have any other questions, feel free to ask! :D

[kkodzvken]

take the dive - sugawara koushi x milf!reader

tags/warnings: smut, 18+ ONLY! slight dubcon, infidelity, post timeskip (suga teaches reader’s kids). overstimulation and slight dumbification, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, semi-public (in an empty classroom)

a/n: this is my piece for @ultimate-astridwriting’s milf fuckers collab, which you can find here!! thank you for hosting this astrid, and thank u to everyone in the server for ur love and support as i worked on this <33. title cred: take the dive by jonghyun

wc: 3.9k

Amidst a faculty full of stuffy old dinosaurs and suits, Sugawara Koushi is a breath of fresh air. He’s a welcome distraction, a pretty face to focus on at dull PTA meetings and assemblies. And you knew that you weren’t the only one making heart eyes at him. Everywhere that he went, heads turned, and moms whispered. At the bus stop, on the sidelines of sports matches, in the waiting rooms outside dance classes.

It was just that, though -- just whispers. Little knowing glances and nudged shoulders, dreamy sighs and brief sinful indulgences. Nothing more than a brief escape from the monotony of your everyday lives. You’d lose yourselves in the fantasy for a few seconds, and then pull your heads down from the clouds and plant your feet on solid ground. You enjoyed your gossip with the other moms, and then you returned home, to your husband and children. To your family.

You love them, of course. Your children are your world, and your husband is a good man. He’s a good man, and that’s what made it so hard. He treats you well, keeps his words soft and never once put his hands on you. 

He may be good, but, God, was he boring. You can’t remember the last time that he’d even kissed you, let alone fucked you. He came home later and later each night, too tired from work to do anything but silently scarf down his dinner and plant himself on the couch in front of the television. He dragged himself into bed hours after you did. He tried to be quiet, he really did, but he woke you up every single night with his stomping and shuffling. When you snuggled closer to him, he pushed you off. My back hurts too bad, he’d say, voice tinged with regret. Remind me to book another appointment with the chiropractor. 

It was always some excuse or another. 

So, really, you couldn’t blame yourself for your wandering eye. You weren’t going to act on it, of course -- you weren’t a cheater -- but the young teacher was something to occupy yourself with. A pretty face to fill your thoughts as you wrangled your horde of screaming kids from swim lessons to dance practice to art classes. A pretty, pretty body to imagine as you fucked yourself with your fingers, teeth sinking into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. You couldn’t help but imagine that it was him, lithe body leaning over yours. No complaints of aching backs and sore muscles, none of the complications that came with age. 

You’d leave your husband catatonic on the couch, put the kids to sleep, and then go dream of their hot teacher. You should’ve been more ashamed, but there was a part of you that loved the thrill of it. You flushed whenever you saw Mr. Sugawara the next morning, memories of your illicit thoughts filling your mind, but it also made your body feel electric. 

Of course there was a part of you that longed to throw caution to the wind and jump the young man, but your conscience was much stronger than your weak, lustful thoughts. You were happy with the way things were now. As dull as your husband was, and as insufferable as the children could sometimes be, you were happy. 

This was all you had ever wanted. A house in the suburbs, a husband with a well-paying job, three kids and a dog. You’re living the fucking dream. You’re happy, you tell yourself.

So why the fuck are you so unsatisfied?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

With a deep breath, you stare down the heavy glass doors at the school’s entrance. You want nothing more than to find the idiot architect who designed this building, and strangle him for installing pull doors. Your arms are already sore from carrying the giant tray of brownies from your car to the front of the school, and you worry that if you put the treats down to open the door, you wouldn’t be able to lift them up again. A quick glance at your watch tells you that you have two minutes left to reach the gym where the bake sale is being held. The PTA president is notorious for hating latecomers, and you weren’t in the mood to get your head bit off.

You’re debating doing some gymnastics and using your foot to grab the handle, when you notice footsteps approaching from behind you. You open your mouth to ask for help, but they beat you to it. “Let me get the door,” says their syrupy, melodic voice.

Their familiar voice.

Your body practically freezes as a strong arm reaches over your shoulder. Long fingers – fingers that you’ve fantasized about too many times to count – twist the handle and push it open easily. You don’t know how you didn’t notice him approaching sooner, but now that he’s here, your senses are in overdrive. The sweet scent of his cologne, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his body – it’s all too much, and it makes your knees feel weak.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you say, voice coming out much breathier than you intended. This must be some kind of Pavlovian response from all your fantasizing, because there is no reason for your stomach to be twisting right now. “Thank you.”

He grins sheepishly and steps away, and you hate the way that your body screams at you to lean into him. “It’s no problem. Is that for the bake sale? Here, let me carry it for you.”

You try to protest, but there’s really no point. His long fingers are already pushing yours to the sides, and you swear you’ve been electrified as he pulls the tray out of your hands. It’s a shame, really, that he’s wearing a button-down. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, at least, but you would’ve loved to see his biceps flex as he carried that tray…

What am I doing? You dig your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of your thoughts, but it’s hard to stay lucid when he’s so beautiful. He carries the brownies with ease, using just one arm to support their weight as the other holds the door open for you. It should make you upset, that you’re so weak in comparison to him, but the thought just makes you feel even more breathless. He’s so strong, so young, and so unlike your husband.

“Thank you,” you say again as he steps into the building behind you. You reach for the tray, but he waves you off.

“Nonsense. I’ll walk you to the gym.”

“Oh, really, you don’t have to—”

“I insist. Anything for my favorite mom.”

His…favorite? His words leave you too stupefied to protest any further, and he takes your silence as compliance. Your body automatically follows in his footsteps as he paces down the hallways.

He looks over at you and smiles comfortingly. It lights up his entire face, but does little to ease your turbulent thoughts.

Your mind is still fixated on his words as you step onto the squeaky wood flooring of the gymnasium. Sugawara calmly walks over to the PTA president, who looks like she’s about to rip her hair out. She’s surrounded by a gaggle of other moms, all jabbering away with concern painted across their faces.

“Is something wrong, ladies?” he asks. His voice snaps them all out of their conversation, and their eyes widen as they take him in.

“Yes,” says the PTA president scornfully. “We were supposed to have the brownies here already! The sale starts in ten minutes, and if this keeps up, I won’t have enough time to inventory everything and make it presentable, and –”

“I have the brownies,” you cut in, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

She blanches, and looks from you to the tray in Sugawara’s arms. An oh is all she can muster before grabbing the brownies and rushing off.

“Is everything okay?” one of the other moms asks, her voice laced with fake sweetness. “Oh, and you look so tired, dear. If you couldn’t manage your part, you should’ve just said so!”

“It would’ve been no trouble,” another woman says. “I’d have had no trouble whipping up a tray for you! Everyone always does love my baking.”

You grit your teeth and resist the urge to snap at them. It’s always like this – the other moms seem so in tune with their lives of domestic bliss, playing games of politics and constantly competing to be the best. Try as you might, you just can’t satisfy yourself with a life like theirs.

The material of Sugawara’s shirt brushes against you, and you start. He doesn’t pull away as you flinch, instead gently resting his hand on the small of your back. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I steal her away? Mrs. (L/N), I have your son’s science fair project sitting in my classroom. He keeps forgetting to bring it home. Would you like to go collect it now?”

You nod, relieved at the excuse to escape these women and their sickening artificial sweetness. Sugawara gently guides you with the hand on your back. You can’t help but internally smirk at the thinly-veiled jealousy on the faces of the other mothers.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.  

“This is why you’re my favorite,” Sugawara says, once you’re safely out of earshot. “All these PTA moms are so fake. But you’re not like that, are you?”

You nod, still a bit convinced that this is all a dream. He doesn’t remove his hand from your back as you walk down the hallways, and only pulls away when you reach the door to his classroom. He fishes through his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys, before insert one into the knob and pushing the door open. He gestures for you to enter first, and so you do, blinking at the harsh sudden brightness of the automatic lights.

You awkwardly glance around the room. You’ve been here plenty of times before, but that was all during the daytime, when it was packed full of energetic children. It feels…strange, to be alone in a classroom as an adult. Or, well, alone, except for the stupidly attractive teacher that you’ve been lusting over.

“Where’s the project?” you ask, trying to diffuse some of the tension building in your stomach. “I should head home soon.”

Sugawara leans his back against the door and cocks his head. “You know, I know what you say about me.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb.” His eyes rove across your body, lingering on your chest for far longer than they should. “I’m not deaf, you know. I hear all the things you say about me. You’re just like all the other moms.” He pushes off the door, stalking closer to you. You instinctively take a step back. “Only difference is, you might actually have the guts to do something about it.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, so hard that you think your ribs might bruise. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Sugawara. I-”

You take another step back, and another, and suddenly your back collides with concrete. Your body jolts, and you yelp at the sudden pain.

Sugawara leans closer. One of his hands braces against the board behind your head, and the other one comes up to cradle your face. His long fingers hook under your chin and press, forcing you to tilt your head up and meet his gaze. His thumb brushes against your lip, and you can’t deny how the sensation makes your body feel like jelly.

Every rational thought in your mind is screaming at you to run, to leave, to get away from him and go back to your husband, but God, it’s been so long since you’ve felt like this. It’s been so long since someone’s made your heart race and your breaths quicken, since someone’s made you blush like a schoolgirl over a simple touch.

“What was that you said?” he asks, his voice dripping with honey. “You don’t know what I’m talking about?”

You swallow and bite the inside of your cheek. The pain does nothing to clear the fog inside your mind. “I-I don’t, I-”

“You do,” he interrupts, his thumb still toying with your lip. “You’re so fucking obvious. I bet you’re wet already, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Sugawara!” His lewd words make you gasp, but more than anything, you hate the fact that he’s right. Your body has a mind of its own, and it wants nothing more than to wrap your lips around his thumb and pull him closer. It wants to feel his arms wrapped around you, feel his body towering over you.

But you can’t. As much as you want to, you can’t, because you have a husband at home who’s waiting for you. Sure, he isn’t home right now, because he’s putting in extra hours at the office. And sure, he hasn’t touched you or made you feel desired in weeks. Hell, you haven’t had a genuine conversation in weeks. But he’s still your husband! You try and remind yourself of that. You roll the thought around in your head, hoping that it’ll push your thoughts of Sugawara away.

But the young teacher is persistent, and there’s a glimmer in his eye that makes your chest tighten. “Call me Koushi, princess.”

“Don’t call me princess –”

“What, you’re going to pretend that it didn’t make you wetter? Going to pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together right now?” He leans in even closer, so that his breath brushes against your ear as he whispers. “Your body doesn’t lie, baby.”

A whine slips past your lips at his words, and then you gasp, mortified with yourself. But the grin that covers his face makes your transgression worth it, because God, he’s handsome. His hand squeezes your chin even tighter, and then trails down to your neck. Your breath catches in your chest. You’re hyperaware of his every movement, of his fingers trailing across your skin, his touch feather-light. It leaves you aching for more.

You instinctively whine again, and he lets out a noise of surprised delight. “Whining like this, and you’re still denying that you want me? What’s got you so embarrassed?”

“I have a husband,” you hiss – or, at least, you try to hiss. It comes out more like a whimper than anything else.

Sugawara looks at you for a beat – and then throws his head back and laughs. It catches you off guard, and you furrow your brow. “Why the fuck are you laughing?”

He collects himself, but his eyes are still gleaming when he looks back at you. “Sure, you have a husband. But that doesn’t stop you from thinking about me, does it? Tell me, when’s the last time that your husband took care of you? When’s the last time that he touched you, or fucked you, or made you feel good?”

“Mr. Sugawara, this is inappropriate–”

“Stop lying to yourself.” His voice suddenly drops, his stare forceful and deadly serious. “Say the word, and I’ll go. We can pretend this never happened. But anyone with eyes can tell that you’re unsatisfied.”

“I…I don’t…” Your thoughts feel like a wave, building higher and higher. They bounce around your head, reverberating against your skull, so loud that you can’t even think.

“Why are you settling?”

“Mr. Sugawara, please, I–”

“Why are you settling, when you know you want more?”

The wave crests.

You don’t know who moves first, but somehow, your fingers are tangled in his hair, and his lips are slotted against yours. It’s not soft, or sweet – it’s a mess of teeth and tongues and feverish breaths. His hands are everywhere. They trail over your skin, explore the curves of your chest and your stomach, grip tightly at your waist to pull you closer.

“Mr. Sugawara,” you pant against his lips. Your lungs scream for oxygen, but you can’t bear to drag yourself away from him for even a second. He kisses so well. It may be rushed, and messy, but there’s so much hunger behind his actions that it makes your head spin. It’s like his lips are a live wire, and every second that they touch yours, they send a thousand volts of electricity arcing through your body.

“Koushi,” he breathes. “Call me Koushi, please.” You nod, and then hurriedly undo the buttons of his shirt, popping a few off in the process. Neither of you care. His hands finally dip beneath the hem of your dress, and he wastes no time in unceremoniously tugging it off your body.

Your hands instinctively go to cover yourself. Age and childbirth have changed your body, and you know that Mr. Sugawara – no, Koushi – is probably used to beautiful young women. You still don’t understand why his eye landed on you. He surely has dozens of girls his age fawning over him, with flat stomachs and perky tits. Why you?

He grips your wrists and pries your hands away from your body. “Don’t do that,” he says, so gentle in contrast to the fire from just moments ago. “Don’t cover yourself up. You’re beautiful.”

Oh.

You can’t remember the last time that someone called you beautiful. You can’t remember the last time that you felt beautiful.

But right now, with Koushi staring at you, eyes blown out with lust… you feel it.

He sinks onto his knees, lips already pressing little kisses against your hips and upper thighs. You try and protest – really, Koushi, you don’t have to – but he shushes you instantly. He hooks one of your thighs over his shoulder and dives in without hesitation. Even through the fabric of your panties, you’re in fucking heaven. His tongue laves against your clit, focusing so much attention onto the swollen bead that you can’t help but let out a moan.

You slap your hand over your mouth to silence yourself. You’re in an elementary school, for God’s sake. The bake sale is at the other side of the large building, but you’re terrified of someone walking past and catching you. Guilt swirls around your heart, but it’s quick to dissipate when Koushi tugs your panties off and throws them over his shoulder. He buries himself into your cunt again, and it’s even better without the barrier. The coil in your stomach is tightening embarrassingly fast, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care. His tongue laps at your folds, slurping lewdly.

The pleasure is overwhelming. Your body moves of its own accord. Your hips grind against Koushi’s face, and he moans right into your cunt. His lips move up to your clit again, alternating between licking and sucking. You’re so focused on his mouth that you barely notice his fingers, so long and pretty, collecting your wetness.

You do notice when he fucks two of those pretty fingers into you. He immediately starts scissoring his fingers to stretch you out, before hooking them against that spot inside of you that makes your head spin. Your entire body is shaking with euphoria, so much that you can’t handle it.

“Close,” you cry out, trying to keep yourself upright. “Close, close, please, don’t stop!”

He moans into you again when you tug at his hair. It’s the push that you need to finally fall over the edge. You bite into your palm to keep from screaming as you gush all over him, chest heaving and eyes tearing up.

He keeps curling his fingers, keeps lapping at your clit, until you tug on his hair and cry that the overstimulation is too much. As he lets your leg down and stands up, he makes a show of licking your cum off his fingers, slurping on them loudly. It would make you embarrassed, but you’re too focused on his other hand as it dips down to his belt. The muscles of his stomach flex as he undoes the buckle. You take the opportunity to rake your eyes over his toned torso. He seems so slender when he’s dressed, but his shoulders are surprisingly broad.

He looks up at you with a little smirk. “Caught you staring,” he teases. You blush as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one go, freeing his cock. It’s already hard, and so pretty, just like him. His tip is red and dripping with precum. You want so badly to get a taste, but Koushi has other plans. He spins you by your shoulders, and then presses at the small of your back to make you lay across his desk.

You groan when you feel him slap his cock against your ass a few times, before running it through your folds to collect your wetness. “Please,” you gasp. “No teasing, please.”

“Just came, and you’re already needy?” he chuckles. “That husband of yours must really not be satisfying you.”

You’re spared from having to think of a retort by him sinking into you. A cry leaves your lips, but it’s too good for you to even care about the sound. He feels like heaven as he sinks into you. His cock stretches you out deliciously.

You’re already feeling delirious as he starts to shallowly thrust and work his way in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. “So – fuck…”

You can’t do anything but moan and scratch at the table as he starts to fuck into you in earnest. His cock is perfectly curved to hit your spot every time, and soon you’re reduced to a mess underneath him. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust. It hurts, it’s all too much, but it’s so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever felt pleasure like this – mind numbing and all consuming, so powerful that it makes your eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” he groans again, bending down so that he can loom over you and leave little bites all over your back and shoulders. “Not gonna last if you keep squeezing me like that, shit!”

“Faster, please,” you beg, and he obliges. He sets an absolutely brutal pace, somehow managing to fuck you hard, fast, and at the perfect angle all at once. Moans and cries spill freely out of your open mouth. When he reaches forward to toy with your clit, it’s all too much, and it sends you over the edge again. Your body practically spasms as he fucks you through your second orgasm. He shows you no mercy, gives you no time to come down. You don’t know if you’re coming again, or if you just never stopped. Your mind is hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

You’re a twitching mess by the time that he pulls out, but you still whine at the loss. You’re far too fucked out to turn around and look at him, but in the corner of your consciousness, you can hear him panting and stroking himself furiously. His moans are so beautiful. Within a few short seconds, he’s coming all over your ass, painting your pretty skin white with his seed.

You don’t know how long you’re laying there before he taps your cheek to get your attention. “C’mon now,” he says, a tired smile on his face. “Let’s get you cleaned up. We wouldn’t want your husband finding out, would we?”

[ygreczed-3]

The Red Guard and the Snow Angel

Summer Falls desert concept art

Hank and Connor

Gavin and Nines meditating + thunder, snow, fire and wind seal

Gavin and the thunder spirit

More concept arts - traditional art & inking

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

When they go through the Summer Falls desert, Connor and Nines pass out fairly soon due to their intolerance to fire magic. They only get better at night, when the temperature drops, so they stay awake to watch out while the humans sleep. During the day Hank and Gavin have to take them on their horse/Sumo and walk beside them, even though the intense heat isn't making things easy for them either. They reach a village in an oasis where Connor and Nines get better, and when they realize there's a spring in it, they decide to go and rest a bit as the night arrives.

Nines and Gavin are gone meditating on a less crowded part of the spring.

Gavin : That's stupid… How can this make me stronger than my training ? Nines : Stop talking and focus on your breathing.  Gavin : Grmphh.. Nines : Can you feel the source of magic inside your body ? Gavin : … Yeah. Nines : You have to… establish a connection with it. Show him you don't fear it Gavin : But I fear it. Nines : The war spirit you host is an incredible source of power, and you can believe me, it is as bellicose as you are. It only needs a goal to aim for and you'll be able to channel its energy.  Gavin : … You know I'm your enemy… Why do you help me ? Nines, closed eyes : I know I can compete with you. I'm ready to be challenged. And it's funnier to fight a skilled warrior than a scared little boy. Gavin : … Fucker.

X

Connor and Hank in the hot spring

Connor : I think that's what your hug feels like. Hank : hm ? Connor : The hot water. I think it's what hugs feel like. Hank : You said my hugs... Connor : Did I ? I was just thinking… about how you hug Sumo sometimes. He loves it. Hank : Yeah, this big boy loves cuddles  I admit that. Connor : It must feel good. Hank : What… You've never been hugged before ? Connor : Golems do have… intimate behaviors, of course but it's not… I mean we're… not physically warm, so... (NB : I was thinking golems in this universe would be like vampires, not as freezing as actual snow but still colder than humans) Hank : ...Thought you didn't like heat that much. Connor : Warmth from human's touch is different from fire magic : it feels more… safe, less aggressive. I think I'd like that. Hank : … How do you know that ? Connor : I touched your back to heal it, remember ? Your warmth feels nice. Hank : Yeah okay, you touched me, but you don't know what my hugs feel like ? Maybe you'd hate that. Connor : I wish I could know.

They look at each other, but then Hank looks away and stands up.

Hank : It's late, I'm tired. I'm going back to the inn. Connor seems disappointed, but then Hank keeps going. Hank : You coming ?

When they enter the room they share all together, Nines is already in stasis and Gavin is snoring loudly.

Hank takes Connor's wrist silently, looking at him in the eyes as if tacitly asking for permission. Connor just lets himself be enveloped by wide arms, and rests his cheek on his collar bone.

Connor sighs, closing his eyes as he enjoys that nice bear hug. He feels that warm something in his chest growing in his body, invading his stomach with pleasing flutters. 

Connor : Hank… Hank : Shhh… it would be embarrassing to wake those two idiots up now.

Connor bites his lower lip as he silently reaches for Hank's hand, his skin turning white as he presses gently each of his fingers against Hank's. It's known to be a quite intimate gesture among golems, and the closest human equivalence to it would be a kiss. Connor is aware that it could even be interpreted as indecent given how close their bodies are, and that if Nines was to wake up at that moment he would probably choke on thin air. Of course Hank has no clue about that and just thinks it's funny.

Hank : What, you wanna dance ?

Connor realizes they're holding each other on the left side and touching hands on the right side, and it seems like they're going to waltz. He chuckles from the absurdity of the situation from a human's perspective. 

Connor : I wouldn't know how to. Hank : Good thing, I'm a terrible dancer. Connor : Ahah...hmm, Hank, I like it. Can we stay like this for a moment ? Hank : Sure.

X

One night in the middle of the desert, Gavin is on the watch as Hank sleeps in the tent. Connor is with him, but Nines inexplicably stays around the fire, silent. Gavin is bored out so he just starts the conversation. 

Gavin : I feel like the old man and your stupid brother are getting along. Nines : I have this feeling too. Gavin : Doesn't bother you? Nines : What can I do ? I asked Connor to be careful, but I'm not blind… He's shining with glee whenever Hank is around him. I can't… force him not to feel. Also, I think Hank isn't that bad of a person… for a human. Gavin : Still certain we're the bad guys ? Think about it : you were made to serve us.  You betrayed your creators and let us starve like dogs. Nines : Humans didn't create us. Kamski did, and if he had wanted to, he could have made unthinking, obedient golems. Maybe we were meant to break free. Gavin : Oh yeah, so why can't you even procreate ? Simple answer: you were not designed to be an individual species from the start. You were built with no other purpose in life than to help us survive.  Nines : Didn't that even occur to you that humans did bad things too ? Gavin : We're just trying to survive ! Nines : So we are. Gavin : … So what ? You're saying we're two evils ? Of course we are. But I have to protect my people, you understand that ?

Nines stays silent, exploring the surprisingly genuine glare Gavin throws at him. Of course he understands that. His own despise for humanity is only driven by his deep desire to protect Connor, Marcus, and his people. He looks back at the fire heating them, unconsciously processing how ridiculously similar they are.

And yet, something starts growing in his mind, the irritating sensation his relationship with Gavin has changed from the moment they met, and that he unexpectedly wanted to protect him as well.

Nines : Would you kill me ?

He can't even explain how this sentence even made it out of his throat. He already knows the answer. Gavin stares at him longingly, noticeably surprised by the question. He stays silent as he puts more wood in the fire.

Gavin : If I had to, I probably would. But I… hum… don't want to. Nines : … hm. Gavin : What about you ? Would you kill me ? Nines : I don't know. If lives were at stake, certainly, even if I'd find this decision… regrettable. Gavin : ... Oh wow, is that your way to tell me you like me ? Nines : … Don't set your hopes too high.

Gavin breathes in a laugh and goes back to silence, smiling smugly. 

X

They arrive in Nestlepeek and split in two teams, Hank and Connor go to the center of the town, where Connor hopes to find more precise information about Kamski and where he hides.

Gavin and Nines were supposed to go buy supplies, but as they head to the covered market, they are challenged by a man in the street to defeat his champion in a fight. As Nines realizes it's all for illegal gambling, Gavin accepts and finds himself in a cage, combating a birdman.

He thinks he's got the hang of it but as soon as the birdman starts flying Gavin can't touch him with his sword anymore and becomes vulnerable to his aerial attacks.

Nines : Gavin ! Summon the spirit ! Gavin : No way ! Nines : You'll lose if you don't ! Gavin : I know what I'm doing, alright !? Nines : You obviously don't ! Thunder magic gives you advantageous long throw attacks, you can't win against a flying foe with close combat techniques ! Gavin : I think I killed enough Golems to know how to fight flying foes ! Nines : You bastard…

Nines uses his snow magic to catch the champion in ice and immobilize him.

Owner : What the hell !!! Who did that ?! Nines : I did. I'll replace your champion, open the cage.

The owner is confused first but then he sees the opportunity and accepts. Nines enters the cage and gets ready to fight.

Gavin : … You wanna die ? Told you I could do it. Nines : We've been talking about this fight for ages. It's time to see what you're capable of.

They start fighting and they're pretty even for the first ten minutes. Their fight gathered a lot of gamblers and spectators.

When Nines starts to take advantage, Gavin's eyes suddenly turn bright yellow, and he charges at him : Nines can see the thunder magic halo surrounding him. He parries many strikes but Gavin has gained in speed and ferocity. Soon enough, Gavin throws him to one extremity of the cage, and as the crowd around them is screaming in excitement, Gavin holds up his dagger. He's trembling, electricity forming around his hand. 

Nines can make eye contact but somehow, Gavin isn't answering his glare.

Nines : Gavin- You hear me ?

Gavin doesn't say anything, and Nines is sure he's gonna die when the human warrior shoots down his dagger… only to hit one of the cage's bars just behind him. Gavin closes his eyes, and opens them, showing blue-green orbs again, and he straightens up, breathless.

The crowd boos them as Gavin takes a step back and drops the other dagger. He asks the owner to open the cage and leaves the place, Nines following him, still out of breath as well.

Nines : Gavin !

Gavin stops, letting Nines get closer, until they face each other again.

Nines : You did it. You mastered the spirit… Do you realize that ? Gavin : I could have killed you, then everyone around me. That's what the spirit wanted to do… Do you realize that ? Nines : But you didn't. With a bit more training-... Gavin : I almost killed you, Nines, for fuck's  sake ! Nines : … So what ? Thought you were ready to. Gavin : Listen, this beast wanted you dead, everyone dead so bad… How can I… How can I use this power when I know how dangerous and unstable it is? Nines : … But you stopped it, right ? You can control it. Gavin : You fucker, if it wasn't for you, I know I couldn't have stopped it. I would have killed all those strangers, I know that, and I'm not… I'm not a murderer. Nines : … What do you mean, for me ? Gavin : Drop it. I need some air, don't follow me.

X

Hank and Connor enter the library, Connor is looking for the archived events-records to see if Kamski came into this village (which is most likely given it's the first one you can find after the desert)

It appears that the local people can fly so the library is very high, and most scales don't even reach the top of the bookshelves.

Hank : How the hell can we reach the archives ? Connor : Wait a minute, I'll go there and take some volumes with me.

Connor spreads his wings, that widen to support his weight as he takes off to the highest point of the library. Hank is impressed by how graceful Connor looks in the air. When the golem comes back with a consequential pile of old, handwritten books, he's just there, mouth open in amazement.

Connor : Here we go… the last 10 years of history in this village… Ready to pull an all-nighter ?

Hank doesn't reply.

Connor : Hank ? Hank : You're beautiful.

Connor blinks once, his lips slightly parted from the surprise, his eyes conveying nothing else than confusion and yet, low-key content.

Connor: ..I'm sorry ? Hank : When you fly I mean… that's impressive… and beautiful. Connor : Huh… Thank you, I guess ? Anyway hum… let's… let's find a table… Hank : “Thank you” ? But do you even realize how beautiful you are ? Connor : I was created to meet some human ideal. Why would I be proud of something that isn't my doing ? Hank : Ah, don't be so modest.  Connor : … you know, I think I find humans more attractive than Golems. Each one of you is unique, and I love everything you call “flaws”.

Hank laughs halfheartedly at his last line.

Hank : You don't make sense, kid.

X

They read the archives until it's dark outside. Hank can't help but yawn as Connor lights the candles to keep reading.

Connor : You can go back to the inn, Gavin must be there already, and Nines can take over. Hank : Nah, I'm good. Connor : Hm… Hank : You okay ? You look… worried. Connor sighs : … What if we can't find Kamski ? What if… I was wrong, what if we had to go back to Detroit and Jericho with just nothing ? I don't want to return to a situation where I'll have to fight you… I just can't.  Hank : … Yeah, I understand that. I don't think I can remain a Red Guard after what we've been through… After I got to know you. Connor : If we were to fail… nothing will never be the same again. Without you.

Hank just looks at Connor with sharp eyes, as if he's got the urge to say something. At this point Hank knows he's falling for the Golem, but of course, he won't say anything, because he's sure it's only one sided, Connor is so young and handsome he can't possibly feel the same.

Actually the dark haired golem is totally in love with the man, but again, he thinks Hank can't reciprocate his feelings since he's probably into women (after all he used to have a wife), and definitely not into Golems anyways. It just feels so unfair to both of them to consider going back to their normal life when they just want to stay with the other so bad. They just wish they could stay together and run away in some romantic and lovesick lunacy. Again, they won't tell each other about it.

[yongiefilms]

FILM | Together Alone

BASED ON | The NCT secret santa collaboration feature done by bumblebeenct and lucaswithnoshirt studios over @neoculturechristmas​ headquarters 

DEDICATED TO | My own precious secret santa, @sly-merlin​! This one is for you my love. I hope I did you justice for the type of fic you requested and I hope you like it! By the way I apologize for getting your present to you late.

STARRING | Huang Renjun and Female Reader

FEATURING | Lee Donghyuck 

GENRE | Romance, Drama, Angst, Fluff, Business centred, and Holiday centred

RATING | PG-13

WARNINGS | Thematic elements, suggestive references and implications, crude humor, language, mentions of death, a deceased parent, drinking, alcohol, and other adult themes

PLOT | Everyone knew him. The heir to the multimillion dollar company. Next in line to inherit the top pharmaceutical business in all of China and South Korea. For being only 20 years old he was the most accomplished person of his age. Set to become the CEO at age 21 on his birthday, nearly a few months away, there was nothing that could deter him down the road for further success. They say he’s envied by most, yet loved all the same. If only people knew who Huang Renjun really was without his family’s name plastered against the walls of society that gave him fame and fortune. Only one would have the chance to find out the truth of his reality and sometimes when that comes near the end of a year shutting close, not everything can end pleasant like one hoped. OR Happy endings might not exist in this messed up world.

RUNNING TIME | 6.4k

DIRECTOR’S NOTE | Happy Holidays, my loves! This work is in honor of you all and the amazing year you all gave me with your immense love as well as support. I appreciate every single one of you more than you will ever know so I wish happy days among you this season and new year. I love you and please enjoy! Also, shout out to my lovely proofreader, @dvrlingrenjun​, you’re the best.

1, 2, 3 Now Rolling...

“Fuck them all!” Huang Renjun yells out in frustration, leaning back abruptly in his black cushioned chair, his hands clutching tightly at his dark strands of hair.

The younger boy smirks at him, leaning against the pillar by his office. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

A glare was sent in his direction in retaliation. “Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“Sure, big guy,” he dismisses, the jab made at the older visible with the way his words cut through the air. “Still doesn’t render the fact that you have to go to this event like you always do.”

Renjun groans, his right hand going around his left wrist to play with the gold Cartier bracelet that rested there. A gift given to him when he turned the legal age of eighteen a few years ago. A gift given to him by his father, on behalf of his mother or so it was said. One that was a promise of luxury and achievement if he continued down the path they set out for him. His decision then when he was an adult to decide his fate, but that was only a lie. The bracelet was only a bribe for a materialistic life where he could be well off and if he stepped away then he would be stripped of everything that made him who he was. 

“I know, okay? We do it every year but that still doesn't take away from the fact that I hate it. I hate all of it.”

Perhaps his father was a part of that.

“Well,” Donghyuck drawls, shrugging his shoulders when he lifts his body off the pillar to take long strides in order to reach the other boy. “At least it’s out of town this year so I’m down...I mean free vacation.” He gives a toothy grin, his eyes sparkling of juvenescence and a thrill for adventure, mystery, excitement. At least one of them still had a childlike soul and a more or less normal life while the other was forced to grow up too fast in the spotlight where eyes were scrutinizing his every move before he could even walk.

They called it maturity, but Renjun calls it loss of youth. 

“You’re such a freeloader,��� Renjun mutters, his hands stopping from playing with the bracelet to glance up in exasperation.

“Says the boy inheriting an almost billion dollar company without batting an eye,” Donghyuck snorts with an eye roll, picking at his nails that now gained all of his attentiveness.

It was true after all.

Renjun laughs in mockery. “You’re just jealous, so I wouldn’t be talking if I were you.”

Donghyuck sighs loudly for effect. “Cous, I wouldn’t want your life even if I tried. Some horrifying shit.” He shakes his head, obviously disturbed by the notion.

Renjun’s voice becomes small, yet firm. “It isn’t that bad...”

Donghyuck finally stops twiddling with his fingers to give the other the time of day with a look of obvious reluctance. “Uncle is scary, can you blame me?”

“Guess not, that man is my father.”

“Exactly and as much as I would love to continue this conversation,” Donghyuck glances at his crisp navy steel Bulgari watch, seeing the time half past noon. “I got to run, meeting with the boys soon and I just needed to deliver the message before that. Little pit stop if you will.” His hands flair out in a theatrical motion as if he were giving a bow.

“Oh?” Renjun raises an eyebrow, hands reaching out to get started on the stack of papers placed at the edge of his desk by his receptionist before Donghyuck’s surprised arrival. “Say hi to them for me.” He pauses in afterthought, knowing the younger’s antics. “Or not.”

Donghyuck’s boisterous laugh rings. He knew him so well. “Very funny, but oh, wait!” 

The increase in his tone attracts the older’s regard who was beginning to read through the proposal. “Yes?”

“Here,” Donghyuck states, reaching into the back pocket of his chinos to pull out a small black velvet box with gold edging. “An early present of sorts. I assumed you might like it.” He slides the box over on the desk where it is caught in the grasp of delicate hands.

“Proposing are we? You know we are related right?” Renjun smiles snidely, running his fingers over the soft velvet in wonder. It was rare to get a gift from Lee Donghyuck himself and with the right intentions at that. 

“It would be an honor and privilege to marry me, thank you, but no it’s just...open it when I leave. I’m not into that sappy shit as you know. I have a matching one too, but yeah merry early Christmas and New Years.” His easy grin widens as he winks to take backward steps to the exit of the office. Always one for a dramatic flare.

“Matching...we can’t be a couple either, Hyuck,” Renjun says, shaking his head while he puts the box down on his desk in wait.

Donghyuck flips him off and grits out a reply. “Shut up and be grateful for once.”

Turning his head back to his papers, he mutters, “Oh, I am.”

“Anyways, bye you fucker. Don’t drown in work,” Donghyuck lets out once he turns his back.

“Thank you for caring, delivery boy,” Renjun shouts as his cousin finally opens the door to exit after his much longer than anticipated stay.

Donghyuck’s hands still on the silver knob before he can fully push the door. “When don’t I? If you’re gone then that means I would have to inherit the company and as much as I would love the money, the fame, the attention, maybe even the girls...I don’t want that responsibility. You get me?”

Renjun rolls his eyes, spinning the black ballpoint pen between his index and ring finger. “Just say you’re lazy and go.”

“I am going!” Donghyuck exclaims while he turns his head over his shoulder, shooting the boy sitting at the desk that didn’t quite fit him well, another wink. “Bye for real, Junnie!”

The door at last closes and he is gone in a blur of colors.

Renjun mumbles under his breath. “I told you not to call me that.” 

His mother used to call him that and she didn’t have the chance to stay long in this world. Taken too soon is what they say, but maybe she was blessed before everything turned to stone. 

With Donghyuck’s departure, Renjun looks over at the lone box that was gifted to him, perhaps not a gift like the others that held no meaning, for this one was an outlier in the equation. Donghyuck never gave without meaning or gain so it had to be special.

He places his pen down and picks up the box, undoing the clasp that held it close. The box opens to a sight he has gotten used to, yet there was a disparity. In between the cushion of the velvet laid a beautiful silver Chopard ring. The band was simple in design, yet intricate with the signature ice cubes filled with small sparkling diamonds across the entire width. Renjun handles the ring with care once it is taken out of the box to inspect every detail. Not only was the brand engraved in stunning cursive on the inside, but Donghyuck had gotten the ring customized with the word family in the same writing on the opposite side of the inner circle. 

Renjun runs his fingers over the engraving, the words rough under his calloused hands. He hums in thought as he slips the ring on his middle finger, the radiance seeping in from the windows catching the precious metal. “Family...family...I haven’t had one in a long time.”

The truth is he had, has, but he was too blind to see. 

Family is not just those that are immediate, composing of a father and mother or even siblings. Family can also entail the greater extent from cousins to aunts to grandparents. Family can even be those that are not blood related like the friends a person surrounds themselves by. 

Renjun has family. If only he could acknowledge them before they too left him utterly alone. 

Alone was something Renjun was not for the days to come. 

A week later after his cousin delivered the news about the annual holiday vacation and company sponsored events that his family has been hosting since his late teen years, he was flown in a private plane against his will to a remote town near Busan, far off from the heart of Seoul. He would rather spend the holidays in the city where he grew up like all those past seasons ago, but his father decided there was a need for change, a mirror of one forthcoming in virtually three months. Usually those that made the trip came for the designated three days they were given which still involved work communications with scant room for relaxation depending on the schedules of selected individuals. However, if one was a Huang, which Renjun was the only one left along with his father that were at least part of the business, then departure and stay differed. Intermingled was the Huang winter vacation with that of business affairs, a factor that was born when the tradition started. His father always said to kill two birds with one stone when given the chance and this very situation was one he took hold of to morph into a personal gain. 

Nothing was ever as it seemed with his father, nor himself. One characteristic they shared among a hundred to a thousand polarities.

Albeit this time around, Renjun had fought against his father’s wants, which was not the first instance, but was one that ended in surprising success. Success he tasted on the daily, even if all was bitter with no room for happiness. However, this success was sweet with contentment, ending with an awfully horrid aftertaste. Convincing his father to fly him out along with the others on the 23rd of December instead of the 20th was a victory no less. At least he didn’t have to spend unwanted days in the presence of his old man longer than necessary. 

He arrives in wealth and social standing like he always did for once his black A.Testoni dress shoes hit the white tiled floor of the airport’s general aviation ramp building, everyone within his general vicinity, even those afar, are taking heed to his every need, that as of now are limited. 

A slightly older woman who he deems as his assistant, comes into view, her black Prada heels clicking loudly against the tile as she advances with a clipboard and her trusty cell in her hands to the boy. She cheerful speaks into the empty building, her smile unwavering. “Mr. Huang, I am glad you had a safe flight. I printed your itinerary for the next couple of days that I will hand to you once we are in the limo. Considering it is…” She glances at her Apple Watch Series 6 to check the time. “Two forty three as of now, we can drop off your luggage at the Lodge and get you settled into your room before your three fifteen lunch with Mr. Kim and his wife at the Yongsusan Café. You will be with them for an hour before the rest of the afternoon is yours to spend productively. Then at six o’clock the maids and stylists will come by to get you ready for the business meeting at seven thirty, following with a small dinner party with those same individuals, including their wives and children. Sounds good?”

Renjun does not even have time to reply before his assistant speaks again. 

“Yes, okay! Let’s get going then.” She turns on her heel abruptly, yet with expertise without room for error and begins taking steps away from the plane to the left. “The limo should be this way, follow me while your luggage gets loaded. The drive should not take more than ten minutes.” 

He has no choice but to accompany her as he would not be able to make a run for it, he will be caught within seconds. He tried once and that was only one failure amongst little to none in his book. 

His strides are slow and lousy as if he had all the time in the world to do as he pleased, when he in fact did not, far from it in actuality. Even so before he knows it he reaches the limo and is lurched forward in motion towards his destination for the next few days. The place his dad selected oozes with sumptuous intent, being a gorgeous mid-century modern wooden lodge that nearly looked like a manor upon inspection. As the limo pulls up to the front, Renjun is able to see the beauty up close that he is entranced by even if he seems unfazed. New places and people excite him more than he lets on for his life is dull, lacking fulfillment of an unknown tomorrow. 

The porter, who is situated in patience by the front doors, strides forward to open the door of the limo, permitting Renjun to step out with the authority and grace bestowed upon him. 

When he crosses the threshold into the Lodge he is met with an even better interior that rivaled that on the outside, but he is not allowed to ponder too much on the design before the head manager greets him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Huang, it is certainly a pleasure for you to stay with us at the Lodge this fine holiday season. I am Gwan Jang-Mi and I will be showing you to your room today along with giving you a small tour of this place in order to familiarize yourself with the setting. If you look here to your left…”

Her speech is drowned out into obscurity as Renjun’s awareness shifts to another woman, one so stunning that he is surprised he did not take notice sooner. When sauntering through the entryway into the resting room that will be cleared out in the next couple of hours, a bar is situated to the left where you stand, arranging countless bottles of liquor to wine on the counter, no doubt for the little party later or for the meeting. Those men were heavy drinkers and needed alcohol to make it through the rest of the evening. Renjun did drink to drown his sorrows, worry, and anxiousness away, but he was not one to throw himself down a spiraling hole of darkness nor chaos that he could not get out of, for those consequences were ones he did not want to reap.

The soft sunlight peaks through the high guarded windows, shining down on your face that enunciates your features. For simply being in a black polo and khaki pants, you made it work and drew all attention to yourself without even knowing the power you held. 

The moment of admiration comes to a close when Renjun is ushered away from the ground floor to make way to his room in the upper levels, leaving you behind.

Yet that would not be the last time.

Time goes by slowly when there is no purpose, no meaning to the daily workings of one person in the masses of others. Renjun has experience in that regard, time always goes by slowly for him and exhausts him a great deal like a rotary clock that seeks no end. 

He was worn out by the time he got back to the Lodge in the early evening due to the stay with the Kims went longer than necessary and he was called elsewhere upon emergency to discuss future matters. He did not have time for himself like his assistant had plainly made known so there he was, collapsed head first into his silk covers, ten minutes to six. 

Instead of taking a long awaited nap he is ushered up and into more formal wear after a cleanse from the bustle of bodies that barge into his room. 

No privacy. No sense of normality. 

That is the normal. 

The next few hours go by in blur from him sitting in front of a mirror to have his hair styled to sitting in front of burly old men that were associates and inventors of the company in a grad meeting room with locked doors and the finest assortment of liquor that money can buy. 

He is out of the confines in no time, not even bothering to say one final hurrah before he lurches himself out the door and into the now cleared out resting room. One of the servers comes by then dressed in all black attire that was nothing of the typical black and white uniform, edging towards a usual guest. Renjun snatches a glass of sparkling champagne and gulps it down in one go off their silver platter, discreetly of course, for he has to look composed—sober throughout the entire affair. He always could hold his alcohol without a problem and he felt blessed to have that advantage. One thing he is proud of. 

He is whisked away not even moments after by one of the older investors, Mr. Han, to moreover chew over the end of the year budget and his stance on future decisions to be made in the new year. From the corner of his eye while listening to the man talk in a flamboyant manner, he sees his father standing with a glass of white wine happily talking to another investor, a more influential one, the most influential one of them all and his wife along with their daughter who was not even carefully surveying the room in search of someone.

Renjun’s eyes widen in shock, mumbling under his breath, “Shit.”

Mr. Han stops the flow of words out his mouth, his eyebrows rumpling together. He did not hear the swear word the boy uttered, yet he heard something in passing. “Pardon?”

Renjun shakes his head vaguely, bringing his third glass of champagne in the air as a sign of departure. “Ah excuse me, Mr. Han, but it seems I have been beckoned elsewhere.” His eyes shift over to his father who was not making direct eye contact with him, but Mr. Han did not need to know that little detail as he observes Renjun’s line of sight. 

Mr. Han chuckles brightly. “I see, well I must not keep you from your father.”

Renjun smiles. “No, you must not, but we shall continue this conversation later, Mr. Han. I am sure you have much more to say and I will happily discuss further with you.”

Mr. Han waves his hand in the air nonchalantly. “We shall. Now off you go.” 

Renjun nods his head, his lips still quirked up in a smile, this one more genuine than the last, as he makes a beeline towards his father to make everything seem more believable. Though once he no longer feels the eyes of Mr. Han on his retreating back he switches routes, going to the left rather than straight ahead. He circles around the opposite side, catching a stark mop of washed out red hair amongst the crowd in the process—Donghyuck. His cousin is not alone, however, talking rather freely with a girl he could not quite see in his peripheral vision. The grin on Donghyuck’s face is undeniable even with his back turned and the way Renjun hears the tiny giggles you are emitting, all is too familiar, which is the perfect cause for a disruption.

Renjun does not acknowledge his cousin when he arrives at the bar, the younger boy too immersed in conversation so he signals for the other worker that comes becking to his call. 

“A Negroni, on the rocks.”

The girl nods in understanding and turns to prepare the drink while Donghyuck still has not noticed his presence. The younger boy always did focus on what was in front of him rather than on his surroundings, contrary to his cousin that saw the whole picture. Two contrasting people surely with unlike futures ahead of them. 

The frosted glass with the reddish-orange liquid and topped with orange shavings is served to him a minute later, placed in front of him on a matching glass coaster.

He clears his throat loudly in an attempt to catch Donghyuck’s attention. “Thank you.” 

A method that proves effective since the younger boy finally turns his head to the right to see Renjun sitting on the barstool next to him, sipping casually on his high class Negroni. 

His eyes are wide, but he masks his shock with a subtle smirk. “Jun! Well, well, if it isn’t the mini man himself. How long have you been sitting there?” 

Renjun snorts into his glass, shaking his head at the dig Donghyuck made at his height, always one out for blood. “Far too long to have noticed your flirting from across the room, Hyuck.” It is now his turn to smirk, but Donghyuck’s own is still unfaltering.

“I take pride in my skills, glad you gave your time of day to notice.” He elevates his glass up then, filled most likely with a Nicolashka, his favorite holiday drink to date, and takes a sip himself, a move Renjun mimics.

Then your voice interrupts. “Sorry to cut in, but I have to get back to work. You’ve been distracting me for the last ten minutes, mister.” Your stern gaze is directed at Donghyuck from the latter statement. Although once your words are uttered, Renjun focuses his eyes on you, scrutinizing your appearance. The very girl he saw earlier today, the girl Donghyuck so happened to have a chance with before him—you.

Donghyuck laughs, the smirk morphing into a shiteating grin. “I told you, call me Hyuck.”

“Well, Hyuck, I have to get back to work...plus I am sure you want to talk to your friend.” Your gaze flickers to Renjun in that instance and lingers there longer than necessary that has him laughing to himself. 

Donghyuck’s charm only goes so far. 

The younger boy peers at Renjun when you utter out friend, and he smiles small in remorse. “Sadly, but do not let me keep you from your work.”

You turn your back on him, your eyes catching Renjun’s in the process before you look away from the intensity of the dark orbs. “I wasn’t planning on it.” 

You leave the bar area then most likely to put on an apron that Renjun noticed you had not worn throughout the entire duration. Donghyuck simply distracted you before the start of your shift and after, not a good trait to inherit. 

Donghyuck hums, but let’s the remark go as he fully turns to Renjun to start up that conversation. 

He raises an eyebrow. “Must you always keep me from having fun?” 

Renjun shrugs his shoulders, swishing the liquid in his glass. “Not always, but I was saving that girl from misery. You should be thankful that I care enough.” 

Donghyuck taunts. “Oh wow I feel so special.”

Renjun sternly eyes him, his voice lowering. “You should.”

Donghyuck’s lips open to retort a response, but no words are spoken on his end for his eyes look over the older boy’s shoulders and he catches sight of someone none of them truly like or have liked after the incident. He sees her.

“Well fuck, here comes the devil,” is all he makes out and the phrase enough has Renjun turning his own head hastily to see who he was watching. Such is when he sees his ex-girlfriend, Cha Yeona, prowling straight towards their way.

“I’m going to go...so good luck, mate. You’ll need it.” Donghyuck pats Renjun’s shoulder in departure and his gesture of sympathy, leaving him in the wake of a girl he really did not wish to see or converse with. 

Once he leaves the bar in quick speed, you come in at that exact moment, your eyes zoning in on the way Yeona’s dainty hand latches onto Renjun’s forearm in greeting. You turn away from the image, busying yourself with wiping down the glasses. 

“Oh! What a lovely surprise,” Yeona voices, letting her hand maneuver down to place on top of Renjun’s hand in which she gives him a faint squeeze thereof. He flinches from the contact, retracting his hand to slip into the pocket of his Burberry blazer while the other rims his glass. 

He peers at her intently, a potency that has her giggling nervously. His looks could kill whenever he was serious with a blank face and austere hollows of eyes. “Hello, Yeona.”

She sits down gracefully on the stool next to him, crossing her long unblemished legs over each other, her hands placed in her lap. Her smile is bright and makes him want to pull out his hair. She was always two-faced. “Hi Jun Jun! How have you been?”

He lets the pet name go, but does not glance at her again, looking over her head at the white lights strung outside. “Good.”

Silence engulfs them that has her fidgeting out of discomfort. He evidently did not want to talk. She reaches her hand out to touch him once more that has him leaning away. She sighs in defeat, retreating from the gesture. She would have to reach him some other way. “Well...I—”

He cuts her off from continuing, drowning the last contents of his drink before he pushes the glass away towards the server at the end of the counter. He puts a hand up. “Save it. I have no reason to talk to you again. Leave.” 

He arches his eyebrow when he sees she makes no move to leave and he chuckles darkly. “Do I have to tell you again? Or should I have security escort you out?”

She flinches from the tone of his voice and gulps, her throat becoming exceptionally dry. She hurriedly stands up, almost ripping over her heels and departs without a goodbye, not that he wished to get one from her. Her slim body covered in a blood red dress slips into the crowd and Renjun finally releases the breath he was holding. 

He tugs at the strands of his gelled back hair. “Fucking bitch,” he mutters, lifting a finger in the air to signal for another drink that the server speedily moves to make. 

“A little harsh, don’t you think?”

Renjun lifts his eyes to see you gaping at him, an eyebrow uplifted in fascination as you finally were in your uniform, a white cloth draped over your shoulders. Renjun runs his hand through his hair and scoffs from the remark thereafter. He was sure the stylists would be upset to see him dishevel their mighty work, but he could care less.

He shakes his head, the strands of hair rustling. “No, I think not. She deserves it.”

“Wow. Again, harsh.” You laugh mockingly and grab his drink that was slid over by your coworker to clean the glass again. You place the beverage down on the coaster which he takes with pleasure, muttering a small thank you that you can barely hear amidst the classical music playing in the background. Your hands make contact for a split second that has tingles erupting on your end, in a rather cliche response, yet he made no move of the feeling. 

There is quietness again that makes you flustered since you were never one to enjoy the muted scenery, always wanting a sound ringing in your ears. While Renjun enjoyed the still, always wanting a sound that faded in the wind and never made a comeback appearance. 

In a desperate attempt to keep conversation while making yourself busy by fixing up the bottles of alcohol, you propose a question that invades his privacy, whilst he never had privacy to begin with, a factor you were left in the dark about.

“So...um...your girlfriend?” You ask, in regards to Yeona that left some minutes ago. 

Renjun snorts, placing down his glass and interlocks his hand to rest his chin on, a move to focus solely on you. “Right. She’s my ex-girlfriend actually so you’re not entirely wrong.”

You mumble out a quiet, “Oh.” It was not your business to know his affairs after all, yet there was a voice nagging within that made you curious to find out every part of him.

The tranquility hugs the both of you once more, until he questions you out of the blue. 

“You want to get out of here?”

To say you are shocked is an understatement, since you are in fact bamboozled beyond belief. He says the declaration with so much firmness and certainty, it has your heart twisting on the inside.

You lightly laugh to mask the shock and turn around to really look at him, a look that he reciprocates. “I don’t even know you.”

A keen smile is visible on his lips. “Exactly the point. You have nothing to lose.”

You shake your head, leaning against the counter of the bar to stare into his eyes that look so lifeless, yet beautiful. “Maybe, but this is my job. I can’t just bail.” 

He leans his head closer to you, an act that allows you to a whiff of the Christian Dior Ambre Nuit cologne he wears and his minty fresh breath. “Of course you can.” His soothing voice turns teasing as he smirks. “Don’t worry I won’t tell.” 

You scoff to yourself, surprised by his mannerisms of outforwardness. You look around then to see if anyone is watching the two of you, but all eyes are elsewhere and you let out a sigh of relief. Another girl comes into the bar when you glance to the side, most likely to cover the next shift that was not yours quite yet, be that as it may you did have a break coming up. 

Renjun outstretches his hand in patience, his smirk slowly growing, even if it was borderlining a smile that you could see right through. He hums in anticipation and you give in.

“Okay fine, but not for too long,” you say as you rest your hand in his. The cold of your fingers meet his warm ones and you latch on for dear life, afraid to let go. 

He grins at you and squeezes your hand. “No promises.” 

Then he proceeds to drag you out of the bar, tugging you to who knows where. The tingle of a secret keeps you on your toes and you become giddy, laughing along the halls as he steers you left, right, straight, left, right, up...a never ending cycle of adventure.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” You ask after gaining the courage. He is intimidating in some regards, the thought of how he acted towards his ex-girlfriend as visible as day in your mind.

He shrugs, finally slowing down. “Who knows. Could be outside in the cold or near a fireplace in the warm. You will just have to see.”

“That certainly gives me no direction at all.”

He turns his head to look at you and stops suddenly, having you nearly crash into his back before he tugs you to the other side. He chuckles when he sees your horrified face from almost busting your nose. “That was the point, darling.”

You huff in annoyance when he continues walking, the pressure of his fingers around your own feels heavier as time drags on and your heart has no sense of calm, constricting with the name of endearment that slipped past his slim lips.

“Okay, we are here!” He announces and lets go of your hand, the bareness of his heat leaving you shivering. You take a step back from planting your feet firmly on the floor and glance around the room in which he stopped. It was one of the upper level rooms with strict access only to the most wealthy of the associates and investors. His family must be one of those highly regarded, if only you knew how highly regarded his family is, being the ones with the most status, the most affluent lifestyle. However, you would remain clueless.

“Oh, wow. The view up here is amazing.”

Renjun laughs, placing his hands in the front pocket of his slacks as he strolls around the room, glancing at the glowing fire that was left on and the books that were sealed shut. “Trust me, I am well aware. Why do you think I brought you up here?” He gives you an exasperated stare, peering past at the giant window you stood in front of that showcased the whole town, now covered in sleek white snow. It must have snowed while he was conversing with others at the party for when he arrived at the meeting hours ago, the land was void.

The white flakes are still falling outside, delicately covering everything in one uniform color that leaves you in awe and he is left admiring you, how at peace you are. How free you look, an emotion he never held onto in his entire life.

“So besides admiring this view, what are we doing up here?” You ask, your fingertips grazing the cool frosted glass of the window, seeing beyond to the endless landscape and twinkling stars along with lights of the houses nearby.

Renjun answers bluntly. “Admiring the view.”

You can’t stop the titters from escaping you and you roll your eyes, an action he sees through the reflection.

He steps forward, coming up besides your figure to look more clearly at the breathtaking scenery of a winter wonderland. “No, I’m joking...at least partially.” 

You giggle some more, interlocking your hands in front of you. “I didn’t know you had it in you to joke.”

It is now his turn to laugh. “Darling, I have a lot in me that you don’t know.”

You sigh solemnly, taking a step back to turn around, examining the other objects around the room. “Oh, I’m sure.” 

He is an enigma waiting to be unraveled, but you would not be the one to solve his case and that alone is an idea that scares you. 

Before you can get farther away, his hand wraps around your wrist, preventing you from escape. You peer down at his hand then up to his eyes, your eyebrows scrunching together in perplexity.

He does not speak, only drags you into him to where you are now chest to chest, only an inch of distance between your bodies. The closeness between the two of you leaves you breathless and gasping for air. His thumb carrasses your arm and runs down to the palm of your hand, enveloping his fingers around your skin. Your eyes are trailing the movements and you take a sharp intake of breath, curious as to what can happen next. He hooks his other free index finger under your chin to lift your face up so he can see you in distinct luminosity.

You have gazed at his eyes practically all evening, but nothing has prepared you for seeing him up close. He is even more handsome in full definition from the lines on his soft pink lips to his perfectly tousled hair. 

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters, his thumb running along your cupid’s bow. “Absolutely and breathtakingly beautiful.”

You gulp, the words drying up in your throat for what could you say to his compliment?

Then everything happens at once.

His hand moves to wrap around the back of your head and he tugs you closer by the other until you are pressed up against each other. He lightly pushes your head forward and contact is made. 

Lips against lips. Moving and moving against each other, taking all your breath away for the second time within a span of a few seconds. 

He lets go of holding your hand and wraps his arm around your waist, to pull you closer if such is even possible. To make the contact more tender and desirable.

You suppose desire is that which allows the moment to escalate further. From a mere innocent kiss to a fiery passion of craving for more. 

When your lips separate, he does not think twice before grabbing your hand once more and dragging you down the long corridor to arrive at his secluded room around the corner.

He opens the door with haste as you come tumbling in after him, grabbing, pulling, tugging until all that is left is just you and him.

The frantic beats of two hearts. 

The heat of skin pressed against skin. 

Simply two bodies that became one all due to the desire floating around the room and pushing you to the limit. 

You lost yourself in him that night and he in you. 

Lost to the pure ecstasy of pleasure during the season of joy and love.

Yet the season could also be one for giving and taking.

You wake to a cold bed the next morning.

Gone is the warmth of a boy who made you feel like you were on top of the world, someone special enough to demand notice and have anything that is asked for. 

Gone is the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear, the words of assurance, comfort, and false love that made you feel worth it and simply protected.

Gone is the long lingering touches of his fingers pressing into you and dancing along the lines of your body to explore and learn.

Gone is the feeling of his lips on your skin that was enough to ignite you ablaze and leave you seeing all the colors of the rainbow.

Gone is he—Huang Renjun. 

All that remains of the remembrance from the night is the note he left by the oak bedside table, one that crushed the dream of longing and hope within. One that slapped you with the crude reality of who he truly was, is, in a place that you did not belong to and never would. 

Thanks for last night, but it’s a one time thing. You can see yourself out. Happy holidays.

He signed the note with his initials, H.R. and his family’s embroidered seal. 

Then you realize in that moment, your bare body covered in his silk covers in the large suite he had all to himself, that the holidays are not for everyone. 

You can either be together with someone else or alone by yourself. 

Never the two. 

Always one or the other. 

You had hoped to be together yet alone with him in privacy to make your own memories away from prying eyes, but at the end of the day you were by yourself and he was too.

That is how life works in this sick, twisted world.

Men against men. Women against women. Everyone against everyone.

Alone.

Never together. 

Like he and you.

[angryhausfrau-writes]

I Travel Troubled Oceans: Chapter 20 - In Which Jack is the Life of the Party and Charles is a Wallflower

Councilor Featherstone comes through with planning permission, his personal interest allowing Max's petition to jump to the front of a very, very long and very, very slowly moving list. Glacial is a good description of that list. Full of icy aristocracy impeding any sort of forward progress. Because they all make money when the price of real estate goes up and up and up via the dearth of available properties.

Should someone sell off a property – or, God forbid, build a new one, particularly one meant for the lower class rabble to actually live in – well, they'd lose out on potential astronomic profits. And losing out on potential profit is as good as being robbed.

Not to mention the cut they make if someone has enough name and capital to approach them about buying a potential property, hoping to bolster their own enormous bank accounts with a “risk free” investment. But there's no such thing as a free lunch, particularly to the sharks that swim in the ocean of Britain's current property market. Everyone gets a cut of the pie.

Finders fees, they're called. As if anyone is finding anything in the morass of red tape and stark type on expensive paper. Not if someone doesn't want it to be found.

Jack has actually been granted a sizable finders fee by Max. All part of the massive, technically-legal tax dodge that allows the wealthy elite to remain the wealthy elite. Max makes an obscene amount of money selling her property off to a developer – while retaining a seat on the board of trustees, of course, and majority interest in the company they've formed to oversee the spa. And then she pays Jack a handsome consulting fee for all of his assistance with the planning permission. Which is a business expense – and therefore, a tax write off. And then Jack uses the money to wine and dine the councilor. Which is also a business expense and so another tax write off. On and on and on. Each just a small step in the endless dance of Legitimate Business.

Incidentally, Max is also paying Jack rather handsomely to consult on the design and interior decorating for the spa.

There are, of course, actual interior designers and professional decorators and florists and lighting and sound specialists in Max's company's employ. But it just wouldn't be nepotism if she hadn't found a job for Jack to make a lot of money at whilst doing absolutely nothing of value. And it just wouldn't be a London planning project without nepotism.

Plus, it gives Jack's not quite fake career as a fashion designer a little boost. Soon every rich socialite in London – and elsewhere, hopefully – will be relaxing in a Jack Rackham original spa robe, lounging on Jack Rackham original cushions on a Jack Rackham original divan reminiscent of a swan's elegantly unfolding wing, but in palest peach to complement the spring pink scrubs worn by spa staff – another Jack Rackham original – and soothing seafoam walls.

And if all that weren't enough to keep him and Christine (mostly Christine, if he's being honest) busy, Jack's also got fashion week to contend with. Oh, his projects are all finished, and he hasn't even worked himself into that much of a tizzy over the whole ordeal. Not with as well prepared as he feels – and as buoyed as he is by the positive attention his press releases and Instagram posts have received. No, he's as prepared as he can be and there's little point in wearing himself ragged worrying over the what ifs and wheretofors.

No, what's wearing on Jack in the small hours of the night is something else entirely.

More than Jack's actual fashion show – where half the designers are showing essentially nude models with various decorous scraps of latex and/or lace as opposed to actual outfits, not that Jack's petty or anything – more than the actual fashion show, Jack is required to make an impression on all the “benefactors” of the event. The rich, vapid men and women who decide whose fashions are to die for – and who's dead in the water.

Jack's not a real fashion designer. Just someone posing as one for the cover it gives a (hopefully) international crime empire. But that only makes this gladhanding and wheeling and dealing all the more imperative.

It's not much of a cover if everyone questions how, exactly, Jack's made it into the international fashion world. Hell, even here at home he's required to make the sort of connections that get him into the posh parties and stately homes of the rich and famous so he can case the joint and report his findings back to Max.

All of which necessitates Jack throwing his own party. A night of debauchery so blatant, so tasteless it wraps right around to tastefulness again. A night where he can show the fashion world, business moguls, and investors that he has the money and connections that make him worth their money and connections. And he's been granted the dubious honor of hosting the night of the newcomers fashion show. His debut on the international stage. Followed swiftly by his debut as an international man of quasi-leisure.

Max is, of course, the one actually throwing the party. The one determining the guest list from the half-dozen file cabinets worth of dirt and gossip and just creepily intimate details about London's upper crust.

Max is the one to hire the DJ – the same poor sap she'd blackmailed into playing Jack's first fashion show slash after party. And she's got Eme lording over the caterers with an iron fist.

And Max is the one to insist that Jack put up her ridiculous painting in pride of place, over the main sitting room fireplace where it can be reflected a hundredfold in the mirrors she'd brought in to line the room – and in the disco ball the DJ brought for the occasion. A thousand tiny paintings cover the floor, the walls, the goddamn ceiling. And sure, it's a nice enough painting – although it makes something spark hot and hungry in Jack's breast when he looks at it too long.

Or maybe that's just because a shirtless, glistening, complaining Charles – who just spent the majority of the morning hauling furniture and sound equipment around and hanging mirrors - is the one who's been roped into hanging it. Standing there, arms straining as Max directs him to position it just so.

Jack lets his gaze trail down Charles's biceps, chest, abs and away. He's got too much to do to be caught lollygagging like this. And Anne's amused and too-knowing look from over her clipboard is rather ruining the mood.

--

Anne watches Jack flounce away through the crowd, the heaving throng of party guests parting around him like water.

Jack's fashion show had gone over well. All the rich fucks without an original fucking thought between the all of them had been impressed with the flash fucking jewels and dripping gold. Entranced by the swirl of velvet skirts and silken shirts baring just slightly too much cleavage Which Anne knows cuz she's the one telling all the makeup artists to put fucking glitter on all their tits, like Max told her to.

And all them rich fucker's'd been entranced by Jack, too. Drawn like moths to the dancing flame of his showmanship. Lured by the siren song of wealth and elegance he'd spun on the catwalk.

And here at the party too.

Though it ain't elegance they're after here. Decadence, just like the fucking fashion show. But this ain't some rich old fuck's sitting room. This is a bacchanal. They're the cult of Dionysus tonight and they've got loyal followers high on poppers and coke and half a dozen other designer party drugs, courtesy of some of Jack's now-infamous street contacts, dolled up nearly as much as the party guests. And the drugs are all set out in little gold-rimmed dishes on antique walnut sideboards. K itchy as all fuck. Like candy someone's Nan might set out. All free for the taking.

Well, the first taste is, anyway. You gotta pay for the next dozen.

And they're willing to pay, the rich fuckers. Money's no object to them. And they've sold their souls long ago. What's a little more blood squeezed outta stone? Why give a fuck about tomorrow when you can constantly live in the happy glimmering now? Consequences can't touch them – these golden fucking chosen people.

And Jack walks among them like a prince. Like a god, and all this worship is simply his due.

Even from her secluded, shadowed corner Anne can see how he draws them in. Snares them with pretty words and pretty clothes and the promise that if they just flock to him, follow him, they too can be as effortlessly beautiful and catty and elegant and perfect.

And then, when they're thoroughly caught in his silken web, he directs them towards Max.

She's standing on the second floor balcony overlooking the party, queen of all she surveys. And even though Jack's throwing this party, she's the real mastermind behind everything. Every sweating, glittering, drug soaked body heaving against each other on the dance floor is there because that's exactly where she wants them. And when she turns her gaze to one or another in particular, it's far, far too late for them to run. Cuz even if they wanted to. Even if they weren't snared so tight they couldn't get out of the trap not even if they chewed their own fucking leg off. Even if they escaped, Anne'd chase them down for her. Hunt them down for her, across oceans and continents until they'd been found and bound and delivered back to her feet. Where they fucking belong, the fucking scum.

--

Charles tucks himself further into the corner he's found on the second floor. It's not quiet – nowhere in the house is quiet, not even the fucking bathroom. And his spot overlooks the dancefloor, bass thrumming up though the floor to rumble against the bottoms of his boots. But at least it's private.

Jack's holding court in the middle of the crowd, shining and happy and basking in being noticed, being revered.

He's always been like that. Flash and brash and attention grabbing. So you don't see the knife Anne's slipping between your ribs from the shadow Jack casts.

But even then. Even when it had been half misdirect and half distraction. Jack'd wanted this. Burned for it so bright and hungry you almost couldn't stand looking at him. But at the same time, you can't stand looking away.

Charles isn't like that.

Not that he lurks in the shadows, like Anne – or Max, even. He's a blunt instrument, and not ashamed of that fact. His strength lies in direct confrontation.

Oh, he can be crafty. Strategic. He can turn everyone's expectations of him against them. Jack's not the only one with a head on his shoulders, oh no. And Charles ran a crew just fine without his wiles.

But Charles doesn't want to live in the spotlight either. Hasn't chased renown, it had just kind of happened to him, whether he wanted it or not. More trouble than it was worth, half the time.

And now, something else – a new kind of notoriety – is happening to him. And it's all Jack's fault.

See, people aren't only fawning over Jack. No, there's those who saw the promotional material with Charles's face on it and decided he was some sort minor celebrity. Some kinda object for them to project all their filthiest desires onto.

He'd been poked and prodded and fondled. Offered modeling contracts. Offered sex. Offered money for sex. Like he'd welcome it – feel honored by it. Like he's some kinda doll, dressed up pretty just for them.

Not real.

Not a person.

Just a fucking pretty picture in a glossy program, there for them to get off to and then throw away.

He's been down that road before, though not with Johns as posh as these. The swells so used to getting what they want the moment they want it there's no real way to say no. Especially not when they – Anne and Max and Mary and Jack and him – have got so much riding on this.

Charles isn't going to be the one to ruin this. This bright shining con. This dream world Jack and Max have spun out of gossamer. So fragile – so easily ruined.

Charles isn't going to be the one to let the crew down.

So he'd flirted. Glib and meaningless and pretty. Dumb and flighty and careless. Caressed everyone who'd fondled him. Stood close and whispered low in their ears. Made them feel special, feel noticed. And then when they'd tired of him, cuz they always fucking do, so bored of life nothing can hold their interest for long, especially when he's not trying to keep it, Charles'd escaped to the second floor balcony overlooking the party and he'd put his back to the wall and watched Jack's glittering, fragile, beautiful dream unfold below him.

--

“Hiding up here all by yourself, Charles?”

Charles grunts in response, but not in a way that makes Jack feel like he's unwelcome. So Jack leans against the banister next to Charles and waits to see if he'll say anything more illuminating.

After a few minutes of silence – or silence from Charles, at least, the music's loud enough to be heard from a block away, never mind just upstairs – it becomes apparent that he won't be any more forthcoming. And if he's to speak, someone will need to coax it out of him.

Fortunately, Jack is nothing if not persistent.

“Got sick of the party, I'd imagine. It's a bit over the top, even for me.”

Charles snorts at that, so they're making progress.

“I know you'd be happier with something a little less glam pop.” Because that's never really been Chaz's scene. He's more of the rocker type, really. Not that Jack's complaining about his penchant for black leather on top of black silk. “But you have to admit, it's a good turnout. Especially for our first real industry bash. And Featherstone certainly seems to be having fun.”

Jack looks down at where the councilor and Idelle are grinding together on the dance floor (eughh) with the mirrored reflection of Max's painting shimmering on Featherstone's sweaty skin and reflecting in Idelle's eyes. Drawing him in almost as much as Idelle having exchanged her ornate velvet gown for a sexy little cocktail number - although she's wearing hardly any less jewelry than she had at the fashion show – and that too reflects a hundred thousand tiny sparkling versions of the painting. Of the taste and class and wealth the painting promises.

She's bathed in it.

She's a goddess. She's regal. Elegant. Glamorous. The kind of woman the kind of man the councilor is could have for more than a fun night in the sack. The kind of woman he could have for forever, if he'd wanted.

If he was lucky enough to catch and keep her attention.

Men and women in the crowd, only some of them planted by Max, ooh and ah over Idelle's elegance and poise. Remark, just loudly enough to be heard by the councilor about how much they wish she would deign to look at them like she looks at him. Ask to cut in, only to be cut down by Idelle, who has danced only with the councilor, attended only to the councilor, all evening.

Made him feel special. Feel desired. Feel like perhaps he could have this every night of his life, if he'd only put a ring on it. Something suitably flash, of course. Idelle deserves only the best.

But he's not thinking about any of that right now, not with the way he's got his gaze fixed firmly on her bosom, which is being shown off to great effect by an enormous diamond pendant that only she and Max know is actually cubic zirconium. Marriage is probably the furthest thought from his mind right now. But in the morning – in the morning, he'll remember this night. This wild bacchanal. The way the painting had whispered promises of finally belonging to the elegant, tasteful, obscenely rich world that Idelle navigates so effortlessly. How maybe she could guide him through troubled waters when he finds himself out of his depth. Idelle and only Idelle.

“Wish there weren't so many fucking people,” Charles grits out, shaking Jack out of his dreams of what ifs and might could bes. Back to the man standing beside him, one of the reason's they've had so much success in this venture. “All pawing at you. Like you owe them something.”

“Oh, darling. I've never minded a little manhandling, you know that.” Jack keeps deliberately glib, because Charles looks like he's liable to rip someone's throat out if Jack even hints at discomfort.

And it's true that he'd been somewhat leery of the attention at one point, after so long hiding in shadows out of necessity, even as he'd yearned to step into the spotlight.

It turns out that actually being in the spotlight isn't quite what Jack had imagined. That sometimes people shine it on you for reasons other than simple recognition.

That night at the strip club comes to mind.

That had felt like being used. Like being back in his childhood, father a subject of ridicule too drunk to understand that the whole village was laughing at him.

But Jack had understood. He'd understood the power of perception. The power other's had over you when they were the ones controlling the narrative. The ones making you an outsider.

But today, Jack's the one controlling how people see him. The one directing – and misdirecting – perceptions.

Because there's power there. Because people only see what they want to see. And you can get a hell of a lot done when people are too stupid to believe you capable of anything.

This being in the spotlight, being loved and adored by a fickle crowd, keeping the eyes of the world on him so that they stay off Max and Anne and Mary as they pick their marks. This is just another kind of power. Just another shield to hide behind while the dirty work gets done.

Jack elbows Charles in a way he hopes is reassuring. “And anyway, Anne's been keeping an eye out for trouble. You know she's been itching to stab someone for weeks now. I'm safe as houses.”

Charles grunts and turns away, back to the shadows he'd been hiding in when Jack came up here to talk to Max briefly, introducing a new mark – one who's in international real estate and interested in investing in Max's little property endeavors. And the glint of Charles's eyes in the gloom, the occasional sparkle of the silver charms in his hair and the earrings in his ears, the rings on his hands and necklaces draped against his bared chest, it had felt like a predator looking at him. Some big jungle cat watching him from the tall grass.

But Jack hadn't felt frightened. Because he's stupid and hopelessly in love. And he knows Charles, better than he knows himself, sometimes.

So he'd gone over to where Charles was standing. And he had stepped out of the shadow and into the glaring light of the party to stand at the balcony railing with Jack. To listen to Jack prattle on about inconsequential things with only fond mock annoyance, the way he'd always done. Even when Jack had been considerably more annoying – and Charles considerably more inclined to gut people who annoyed him.

But if he's hiding again, returning to the shadows, clearly that wasn't the right tack.

Jack comes at it from another angle. “Would it make you feel better if you came and danced with me? Just to remind everyone my big tough boyfriend is looking out for me?”

Because Charles trusts Anne. They all do – and with their very lives. But sometimes Charles is a protective, possessive sonofabitch. And if he's in a mood, Jack wants to make sure they deal with it in a way that doesn't end in homicide.

Charles turns back, eyes gleaming. “Stake a claim, you mean. In front of everyone.”

Prove Jack's his. And fuck. Maybe that is a step too far for their pretend relationship.

He's about to apologize. Walk everything back, make a joke, disassemble.

But then Charles says, “Yeah, all right. You're too much trouble for only one person to keep an eye on.”

--

Charles has Jack in his arms. And Jack'd said it was about Charles staking a claim. Making sure all the rich fucks kept their greedy hands off Jack. Make sure he was being looked after.

But it goes the other way, too.

Charles is out here in the middle of the dancefloor, covered in shiny that Jack'd bought – or stolen – just for him. Jack's arms around him, just like he's got his arms around Jack. Like they're one person, bound together, with no beginning or end.

There for everyone to see. To see that he and Jack are one.

That Jack has a claim on Charles. That all their pawing and fawning and come-ons don't mean shit. Just like all the heaving, sweaty bodies surrounding them don't mean shit. Not when him and Jack are like this. Together.

Everything – everyone – inconsequential compared to the feeling of Jack pressing against Charles's front, grinding against his dick, Charles's hands on his ass. Jack's his, if just for this moment. And he ain't gonna waste it.

Charles cups the back of Jack's head, fingers tangling in that stupid mullet he still insists on wearing. “Mine,” he growls into the breath of space between the two of them.

And Jack must be a great lip-reader. Or he's on the same wavelength as Charles, feels the same way as Charles does about all this. Because he grips Charles at the nape of his neck. Pulls his hair until his head tilts back and Jack's teeth are at his jugular.

And Charles feels the threat and the promise pressed so tenderly against his skin when Jack says “Yours.”

[everlarkficexchange]

All the World's a Stage

Prompt 31: “We never see you two so much as kiss in public but last night we all heard you having sex.” Submitted by Buttercupbadass

Rated E (Explicit): Mainly for language because Johanna is a potty mouth and so are other certain characters whilst mid coitus okay I don’t make the rules here so there’s more than one f-bomb therefore we rate it E. Also sexual content.

Written by: @katnissdoesnotfollowback

Beta reading by: @stjohn27

************************

Act 1

Johanna Mason loves her neighbors. That is to say, she loves the entertainment they provide her with. It’s a rotating show of fabulous, ridiculous, and delicious drama, and she has a window to each and every one of their lives. Literally.

Victor’s Square is not exactly a square. It’s more of an elongated rectangle shaped building consisting of thirteen apartments, a workout room, a community center, and an office, with a hollowed out central area for a pool. Honestly, the pool is the reason she picked this place instead of The Arbor, which is pretty damn swanky but somehow they forgot to include a pool, of all things, when they added their five thousand luxury amenities. Since Johanna likes sunbathing and not golfing (ugh boring!), Victor’s Square won out.

The three story design of the building, and her luck in snagging the single apartment on top of the office, means that at some point in the day, barring sun glare on glass or inconvenient curtains, she can see directly into every other apartment on the rectangle. Hence the entertainment.

She’s been privy to all sorts of great shit, and none of them seem to know exactly what they’ve given her. The best part is, they’re clueless. As soon as she realized they were basically living their lives on a stage for her, Johanna started parading around her own place with the curtains wide open…while naked. Stark fucking naked. Just to see what would happen.

And nothing changed. No one complained. Which granted, she’s got a banging body. Axe wielding will do that, but she can think of at least half a dozen residents who’d be put off by her exhibitionism. And yet… nothing. No one started suspiciously keeping their curtains or blinds closed when they hadn’t before. Since they’re all too dumb to figure out that their lives are her parade, she just popped the popcorn and settled in for the show.

Tonight, however, Johanna is in no mood for the show. After a late night shift ending a bitch of a week, all she’s in the mood to do is swim a few laps to get the grime off of her skin then lay back in one of the lounge chairs around the pool, listening to the hum of the air conditioners in the sweltering Carolina night, swatting at the mosquitos because she’s too damn lazy to light the citronella torches, and stare up at the rectangle of starry sky she can see.

It’s quiet tonight. She swims her laps, and it works wonders to relax her tired bones and even more tired soul. After, she lays out on one of the squeaky lounge chairs. The hum and the warm air make her drowsy. Inevitably, she begins to doze, with only a vague awareness of the passage of time and the sounds around her.

It’s the loud click and the whoosh that wakes her. Just for a moment. Not long enough to place it at all before she fades back out into half slumber. 

Her psyche is a bitch tonight, dropping long breathy moans into her dreams. The sex so good you can’t quite keep it in kind of moans, even though you’re trying. Completely aware that she messed up a truly great thing just days ago, she tells her subconcious to fuck off and stop reminding her of the one she let get away. Because she was stubborn. Unfortunately, her subconscious is not listening to her. Stupid fucker.

Scrunching up her nose, she refuses to move. She’s sticky with sweat and pretty sure that she’ll lose two layers of skin off her back and thighs when she goes to stand up from the lounge. Besides, there’s a low moaning noise that makes her wonder if maybe she wasn’t actually dreaming those sex sounds. 

The moans in her mind grow louder and slightly more frantic until she can place the heavy feeling in her limbs. She’s awake after too little sleep. 

Damn it. She’s not actually dreaming this shit. Which means one of her neighbors is on the brink of a seriously great orgasm. She’s not sure if she’s annoyed by the fact that she herself hasn’t had decent sex in far too long, or if she’s amused at yet another dramatic chapter in life at Victor’s Square.

The real question is… who’s doing the nasty tonight?

Act 2

A slight shiver and a thrill goes through Johanna as she finally opens her eyes and stares up at the canvas of stars above her.

Another moan ends in a slight squeal and fuck it, Johanna is hooked on the mystery. Shame she doesn’t have any popcorn down here, because given the sheer volume, and the way the sounds are magnified by the shape of the rectangle around the pool, she’s pretty sure whoever it is, they’re fucking with the windows open.

Kinky.

And a lot more interesting than her job. She does a happy little shimmy and settles in to guess who it possibly could be. First things first… she glances around the pool and discovers to her dismay that every apartment has at least one window open, but they’re all dark. Not surprising given that it’s well past midnight. But it’s unfortunately unhelpful. The air conditioner must be out again. That’s probably what that loud noise was earlier.

She closes her eyes again, hoping to pinpoint the direction of the sounds to figure out which of her neighbors is getting lucky tonight. But the shape of the building makes it impossible. Sounds just carry weird in this rectangular bullhorn. They could be coming from anywhere.

“Ung, yeah, right there… oh-oooooh!” The last sound is hitched and breathy. That’s a woman’s voice, Johanna thinks. 

“Yes. Don’t — don’t stop! – I –” The word is pinched off in a desperate sort of ecstasy and Johanna smiles. This could be fun.

It can’t be Caesar and Claudius, the two radio talk show hosts who live in apartment 6. They’re gay. And men. And a couple. But truthfully, she’s not at all disappointed that she can rule them out. She already knows more than she’d like to admit about their sexual habits. Usually she’s not one to kink shame, but electrodes on nipples is a little too close to the realm of torture for her tastes.

“Yes! Please!” the woman begs and Johanna feels her body flush with the erotic sounds, she’s half aroused but fully invested in figuring out who this is. She could of course, get up and walk around to triangulate the sound, but what’s the fun in that?

She quickly rules out Mags in apartment 5. She’s the sweetest old lady, surprisingly spritely. From what Johanna has seen from old pictures of her, Mags was a fucking dish in her youth, but now she’s gotta be pushing ninety. Besides the wrinkles (shudder), Johanna would be worried about heart failure if Mags were the one getting her boots knocked around with this much vigor.

The long moans shift to the choppy, catch breath ones that mean she’s close, whoever the lucky bitch is.

Cinna in apartment 3 is out. He’s ace. Asexual and aromantic. Claims that he’s in a love affair with his work. Well if she could design clothes like the ones Cinna does, Johanna would be willing to give up sex too. She snorts a little and turns her ear, hoping for a better angle on the sound. She’s pretty sure it’s coming from one of the upstairs apartments, but can’t be sure.

Whoever it is, she lets fly a single high pitched note. And then a long stuttering moan that just sounds exactly how it feels to come back down from a really good orgasm. Satisfied, relieved, a little sleepy and a whole lotta euphoric. 

Lucky bitch, Johanna thinks again. Her legs feel heavy and her toes tingle in empathy.

Now if only she could catch something of the partner’s noises…unless the woman is masturbating. Possible, but the directions to not stop earlier make it less likely.

A low pitched murmur and a deep masculine laugh helpfully nix that thought almost as soon as Johanna has it. 

Not flying solo, but also Johanna can now rule out Enobaria and Lyme from apartment 2. She’s never understood them exactly. On the surface, you’d think they’d be perfect for one another. Their personalities mesh in a weird kinda way. Enobaria is louder while Lyme is more dignified, but they’re so often bickering about politics… and the truth is, they have an open relationship.

Or at least Johanna assumes they do based on the number of not-Lyme women Enobaria has entertained shoved up against the glass door leading to their balcony…but if not, Johanna is perfectly willing to offer up herself as a rebound to Lyme when the inevitable shit hits the fan. That woman is built like a house and fucking sexy in a domineering sort of way. Like Brienne of Tarth hotness.

She can order me to submit anytime she wants, Johanna thinks with a smirk.

As if confirming her thoughts, a long deep moan drifts down to her ears, slow and almost silky. Delighted and yet a little astonished, like he can’t quite believe his luck. Definitely a dude. Blowjob or penetration? Either way, this guy’s pent up, she thinks. She’s also guessing that the girl’s orgasm was from fingering or cunnilingus, which means the show is not anywhere near to being done.

There’s only so many people left who it could be…

Her phone vibrates on her chest and she finally opens her eyes again, lifting it above her face and squinting at the overly bright screen.

Finnick: I can’t believe you’re sleeping on this. Do you hear this?!

Johanna frowns. The time stamp is right now. Which rules out Finnick and Annie in apartment 4. Damn it. They were the most obvious choice for a man-woman pairing going at it with this much abandon, and while Johanna is pretty sure they have mind numbingly, porn worthy good sex, they’re unfortunately discreet about it. 

It’s maddening.

Whenever she talks about Finnick and Annie, Johanna’s therapist always hums that way therapists sometimes do when they know you’re engaging in something destructive or unhealthy — such as a minor obsession with your best friend’s love and sex life — but the therapist wants you to figure it out on your own. Johanna can’t help it. Finnick’s a walking sexual fantasy for almost every woman out there. Even her lesbian friends find him hot. And Annie’s gorgeous. Johanna can’t help it if she not so secretly wants them to sandwich her. She’s got a good strap on that Annie could borrow to get it done.

But alas, or maybe fortunately, Finnick’s text eliminates them as the current lucky couple. Pity. She was hoping for something new to add to her spank bank.

Johanna: Where are you?

Finnick: Well we were asleep.

Johanna: Boring. You could be giving them competition.

As if to punctuate her point, a steady cadence of low, slow moans begins filling the air. They weave through the humidity and now Johanna is just angry.

Johanna: Do you know who it is? 

Finnick: Nope. I have my theories…

Johanna: Ugh spare me. 

There’s three potential couples left, and of those three, Johanna’s got a good guess who Finnick thinks it is, or at least wants it to be.

Johanna: I’ll gouge out my eyes if it’s them.

Finnick: Say it. Call them the name.

Johanna: I’m not using that stupid nickname, you absolute child

Finnick: Like you’re any better. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, stop. You’re gonna make me come,” the lucky man gasps. The woman must say something because he chuckles and whispers back to her, the tone traveling if not the words.  Johanna sets her phone down then, perked up by shuffling noises that sound maybe like a position change. 

So who is left…

There’s Haymitch and Effie. Those two… residents of apartments 9 and 11 respectively…they pretend like they hate one another, and maybe they really do. While Johanna enjoys their epic fights, she’s not overly fond of their making up sessions. She’s pretty sure Effie was some kind of tantric goddess or pretzel in another life with the way that woman can bend.

It’s…unnatural.

Her phone vibrates again and Johanna lifts it in front of her face, this time it’s a notification from Facebook, sent out to all the residents in the group.

Effie: I have already filed a complaint with Mr. Heavensbee in regards to the broken a/c. He says there will be a repairman here first thing in the morning. In the meantime, we should all attempt to be cordial in our behaviors and not disturb the other residents since all will likely have the windows open for the night.

A text almost immediately after let’s Johanna know what her friend thinks of that.

Finnick: Where’s your sense of fun, Effie?

Johanna bites back a snort. Although the notice does rule out the exuberant woman as a candidate for Porn Queen tonight, so Johanna texts Finnick again.

Johanna: My money is on Cashmere and Gloss

Johanna sends the text and waits for the response. She’s not disappointed. She cackles internally at the flood of barf emojis and angry exclamations she gets back. Cashmere and Gloss of apartment 1, or as Johanna likes to call them, The Lannisters. Because they may be brother and sister, but they’re totally doing the nasty. Really nasty.

No one believes Johanna about this, though, and she’s not about to tell the other residents how she knows it’s a fact, not just some cockamamy theory of hers. People get pushed off walls for things like that. 

Not to mention then they’d all figure out that she can see into their apartments as well and there goes that bit of fun. 

“Fuck,” the lucky dude draws the word out into almost a croak, and there’s a soft sigh from her.

Finnick: Something is wrong with you

Johanna: Do you think he’s well hung? Whoever he is?

Finnick: Who cares as long as he knows how to use it?

Johanna shakes her head at this, easily able to picture her friend wiggling his eyebrows. 

Johanna: He sounds well hung. It could still be Haymitch, sans Effie

After all, Haymitch isn’t officially tied down, and at the last residence brunch, Peeta’s good friend Delly was visiting and wasn’t at all subtle about her attraction to Haymitch. The girl was deceptively sweet, bubbly and innocent, but with those knockers on her chest and the way she kept laughing at Haymitch’s worst jokes, Johanna is pretty sure Delly has a thing for the much older man.

Finnick: I’m going to ignore your obsession with Haymitch’s junk for now. And also nope. Annie says she can see Haymitch through our window, sitting on his balcony, drinking.

Finnick: Alone.

Well damn. There goes that theory. Just to be sure, Johanna turns her head and cranes her neck. Sure enough, Haymitch sits on his balcony, lounged back in his chair with a glass in hand. After a second or two, he must feel eyes on him because he looks down towards Johanna and lifts the glass in toast.

Which is when the wall pounding begins and the lucky man’s moans start to grow out of control. Damn. They’re really into it now. 

Finnick: You know I’m right

Johanna: You’re ridiculous.

Finnick: It’s Peeniss. How much you wanna bet?

Johanna rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Finnick has some crazy theory that Peeta Mellark, baker and all around way too nice guy of apartment 8 is somehow secretly dating Katniss-I-Will-Shoot-You-If-You-Touch-Me-Everdeen of apartment 12. Not that the girl doesn’t need a good fuck. If anyone is desperately in need of a body shaking, mind blowing, toe curling orgasm, like the one currently building in the summer night, it’s that perpetually scowling and uptight bitch. 

Johanna just seriously doubts that the woman now moaning in cadence with the steady headboard thumps and the increasing volume is Katniss. She sounds way too into it, relaxed. Whoever she is, she’s getting nailed five ways to Sunday and is ecstatic about it.

It could be one of Katniss’ lovely roommates. Katniss lives with her younger sister and one of her best friends, Madge Undersee, in apartment 12. They’re crammed into it somehow… but before Johanna can suggest it to Finnick, she dismisses the idea. 

Prim’s at college, left three days ago…so it won’t be her. Shame. She’s been living under her big sister’s overprotective arch so long that the poor girl has got some catching up to do in the sex arena. College will be good for that, but it means she’s not the woman–

“Fuck yeah.” A resounding slap and the accompanying whimper make Johanna’s eyes go wide. “Lift that ass for me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Love it when you do that.”

Whoa. Okay.

It could be Madge. Or Gale who lives right next door in apartment 13, but they’re almost as unlikely candidates as Katniss. Johanna is pretty sure Madge is a lesbian. Closeted still, unfortunately, because Johanna wouldn’t mind burying her face between those creamy thighs. And Gale… well it could be Gale, Johanna supposes, with some lucky girl who doesn’t live in Victor’s Square. 

Maybe Delly.

Shame it’s not me, Johanna thinks and risks stretching a little. It has been her before, in her own apartment, because while Gale is usually down to fuck, he’s never down to doing it in his apartment. 

That’s because he’s got a massive boner for Katniss and isn’t willing to risk her knowing that he fucks around with at least half a dozen girls that are not Katniss. Masochist. That’s what Gale is. But it’s also why Johanna doubts that Gale is the guy currently balls deep in ecstasy. He’s too loud for someone who wants to keep his sex life secret from his neighbor.

As for Peeta…well it could be Peeta with a girl who isn’t Katniss. He’s handsome and sweet enough to get plenty of pussy, if he tried—

“No! Don’t stop!”

“You don’t get to come again just yet,” the man growls and Johanna automatically clenches her thighs at the commanding tone.

More shuffling and grunting. One yelp from her, then the pounding resumes. And doesn’t let up.

“Harder!”

Faster and faster, his moans keeping pace. The resounding slapping of skin.

 “Gonna – gonna!”

A chorus of “yes’s” and desperate pleas.

“Fucking yes! Peeta!”

Her phone goes off with a stupid amount of speed.

Finnick: I TOLD YOU!!!! 

Johanna types madly at this. 

Johanna: So it’s not the Lannisters, but that doesn’t mean it’s Katniss up there with Peeta. 

Finnick: Oh come on! Who else could it be? You know he’s got it bad for her!

Okay yeah, there is that. There’s also the fact that Johanna shouldn’t be so bitter about this. Just like Katniss is in dire need of a good fuck, so is Peeta. But based on the sounds and the things they said…

Whoever she is, she’s still squealing and the thumping hasn’t let up yet. Damn that’s a long orgasm, Johanna thinks with more than a little jealousy.

“Come for me. Fucking come inside me. Now. Peeta!” 

Those aren’t the words of a sexually frustrated prude talking, Johanna wants to say. Nor are they words of a couple going at it for the first time. Nope. This couple is way too comfortable with each other for it to be a first time. This couple has fucked before. Maybe often.

Go baker boy, Johanna wants to say, but she can’t imagine who he’s with. He hasn’t so much as brought a date home in a year.

A series of texts from Finnick crop up on her phone. Flame emojis and winking faces. An eggplant or two and the three drops of water people use to represent cum. Johanna slouches in her chair, a little miffed that she can’t shut Finnick up yet until…

There’s a deep growling, animalistic sound. A long string of curse words mixed with moans and then— 

“Katniss. Fuuuuuuuuck.”

The curse word takes him about a minute to get out all the way. Damn it, Johanna thinks. Now Finnick will be impossible to live with. She can’t even look at her phone as it blows up again, knowing that he’ll be gloating. Instead she turns it off. 

As carefully as she can, Johanna peels herself off the lounge chair and tiptoes towards the stairs, intent on reaching her own balcony. Not because it sits caddy corner to Peeta’s apartment and if they’re in his room, it’ll be easier for her to hear any pillow talk. Not at all.

She hurries and nearly gives herself away with the door, but manages it. She stands in the shadows of her balcony and nearly chokes on her tongue at the first thing she hears, besides the unmistakable sounds of coming down thrusts or sucks, maybe kissing, quiet aftermath moans.

“Hold still. I’m not done.”

“Feels too good,” he pants. “Can’t take much more, Katniss.” 

“Mmm, you’ll take it and you’ll like it.”

“Yeah, I will,” he says and she giggles. 

“Are you braiding my hair?”

“Can’t help it. You look so gorgeous sucking yourself off my dick… I can stop…”

“No… go ahead.”

Another few seconds of suction noises and then Peeta sighs in relief.

There’s the fwump and creak of a bed under weight. Johanna can practically see them all cuddled up like a cute little couple in his bed. Sighing and kissing and caressing in their afterglow. 

Disgusting.

“Such a cute ass, and all mine,” Katniss says and there’s a slap then a gasp.

Fucking hell, Johanna thinks, eyes bulging out of her head.

Who would’ve thought the two of them would be so wild in bed? Who would’ve thought they were actually fucking each other?

Johanna wrinkles her nose then, finally forcing herself to go inside her own place. Just out of curiosity, though, she chances one last peek at Peeta’s place. The curtains are drawn, but a helpful gust sucks them out the window just long enough for Johanna to catch a glimpse of two naked bodies on his bed, illuminated in the soft glow of a lamp. Katniss with her head tipped over the edge in the direction of the window and a smile on her face as Peeta kisses a lazy path over her body. Her fingers plucking absently at the tangled sheets.

Well damn and fuck.

Johanna heads to bed after that and prepares a salvo of taunting for tomorrow morning. There’s no way she’s letting something this juicy go unremarked upon, especially since literally everyone who was home would’ve heard it.

Act 3

In the morning, Johanna is up early and down at the community center well before the once a month residents’ brunch that Effie insists on hosting. Poor thing is pinch faced and pale this morning, flummoxed when Johanna offers to help set up.

“I suppose. Since no one else appears to be out and about yet. Nothing funny with the vegetables this time,” Effie chastises and Johanna salutes. She’s got better things planned than erotic displays with the produce.

Honestly, she couldn’t care less about the flower arrangements or the energy inherent in the order of food laid out on the table. Helping Effie this morning affords her a prime view through the community center windows of each stairwell and of everyone arriving this morning.

And not just for brunch, she thinks with a smirk as she spots Gale, still wearing his work shirt, sneaking up a stairwell towards apartment 13. 

Where have you been all night? Johanna wonders. Not with Katniss, the girl he’s so obviously got the hots for. Even better for the impending drama. She wonders if he’ll find his neighbors present or if Katniss is still cozied up with Peeta in post coital bliss. They’re probably totally morning sex people, Johanna decides.

Slow, sweet morning sex with loving words. Ugh, gag me, Johanna rolls her eyes at her own thoughts.

Preparations move swiftly after that, even with Effie on her case every few minutes. The pending drama is just too great to dampen her mood.

Peeta’s one of the first to arrive, conspicuously alone. He chats with Johanna for a few minutes, friendly as always, and then moves off as more of the residents arrive.

It takes everything in Johanna’s energy reserve to not throw something at the back of his head. He acts like he didn’t have the fuck of his life last night. It befuddles her and also infuriates her because it means Finnick could be right. 

Oh my god, Finnick could be right about them! They might actually be dating. Who’s to say they aren’t if they can keep their sex life together such a secret. If the air conditioner hadn’t failed…

Peeta’s nonchalance this morning throws all her arguments against Finnick’s stupid Peeniss theories out the window. How is that even possible? She had Peeta pegged as a total softie. Hand holding, nose rubbing, and obnoxiously cute, borderline clingy PDA type of guy, not a rail you into the bed then pretend I don’t even know you the next morning type of guy.

Huh. Pegging. Wonder if he’s into that, Johanna thinks then has to forcibly shake the image out of her head. Because not only does it make sense in a way, but the image is also…sexy as fuck. And she doesn’t need yet another happy dappy ass couple to fantasize about and maker her therapist hum at her in that knowing way.

Fuck Finnick and his stupid theories.

When the tenants of apartments 12 and 13 finally arrive together, Madge splits off to talk to Mags. Gale and Katniss are both suspiciously wet haired. If Johanna didn’t know any better, she’d guess that they were the culprits last night, especially when Katniss doesn’t even so much as look in Peeta’s direction.

Her cheeks are flushed, but she’s avoiding her fuck buddy, talking to literally everyone else, twisting the damp ends of her braid around her finger.

“What do you make of it?” Johanna asks Finnick, bumping her hip into his. He shrugs, with that insufferable smirk on his face that he always gets whenever he’s right.

For two people who were so clearly intimate last night, Katniss and Peeta are doing a pretty good job of acting like the other one doesn’t even exist.

“They’re just… both very private people. But the signs are all there for anyone paying attention.”

“But that’s the thing… the signs aren’t there!” Johanna protests. What game are they playing, she wonders.

“I just don’t get it,” Johanna says and Finnick glances down at her.

“What?”

She waves her hands at Peeta, who looks for all the world like he’s fascinated by whatever Caesar is talking about. But why would he be when Katniss is literally right there.

“They act like nothing happened.”

“Well we know something happened,” Finnick says conspiratorially. Then his smile slips. “Actually, everyone here knows about it.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. Apparently everyone was home last night…”

“Not Gale,” Johanna adds and lifts one eyebrow. Finnick’s eyes go wide and his mouth turns round.

“Oh my. Delicious.”

“Isn’t it?”Johanna says. “But still… you wouldn’t guess it from the way they act.”

“They can’t stop looking at each other.”

Johanna turns her head and motions at them. Absolutely not looking at one another.

“Are not.”

“You missed it. Gotta be quick with these two.”

Johanna shakes her head as she watches Katniss, and Gale who is placing some kind of food on her plate. She’s nodding and listening to him but subtly shifting the food off to the side of her plate while picking up something else and nibbling on it straight away.

And finally, Johanna can’t take it anymore. She stomps over to the tables and loads up her own plate, absolutely not eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Thought you were gonna text me when you got off work?” Gale says.

“Oh. Something came up… Prim. Prim needed to talk.”

“Everything alright?” Gale asks.

And this time, Johanna just catches the quick dart of gray eyes towards blue. Peeta’s shy smile. Katniss’ swift flutter of lashes and nibble on her bottom lip before returning her attention to Gale.

“It is now.”

“Usually is after a seriously good orgasm or two. And by the way, that’s low, using your baby sister as an excuse,” Johanna snorts. She doesn’t mean to, but it just sort of slips out.

Katniss whips around to face her. Dark rouge staining her high cheekbones and her lips pinched together.

“My sister isn’t an excuse.”

“Oh please. Cut the crap.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Katniss hisses.

“I’m talking about the fact that we never see the two of you so much as kiss or even hold hands in public, but last night, I heard you having sex. Loud sex. Phenomenal, shake the rafters loud, sex.” Johanna smirks at the pair of stunned faces looking at her. And the dozen curious faces plus Peeta’s mortified one. All of them focused on her. Center stage, she thinks with a grin and waves a half eaten croissant around at the gathered crowd. “We all heard you. Except for Gale here who was probably out getting consolation tail since you didn’t text him. Really, Brainless, what do you expect if you and baker boy are gonna bang with the windows open?”

There’s ten seconds of stunned silence before Finnick shouts, “I figured it out first, by the way!” Then he grunts as Annie elbows him in the gut.

“Baker boy?” Gale practically growls and Johanna sashays away as Peeta steps over to stand behind a now scowling Katniss. Her hand clenches into a fist as she faces Gale. She leans back against Peeta’s chest, as if she knows he’s there before she even sees him. Good for her. At least she’s not going to shy away from it. But now they’re going to be every bit as insufferably disgusting as Finnick and Annie are.

Love’s a bitch, oh well. Time for that popcorn, Johanna thinks.

[inkribbon796]

Like a House of Cards Ch. 6: A Family of Eggshells

Summary: There’s precious little time remaining, and the city is set to change forever.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

It had all happened so fast for them. One moment they were all enjoying their time on the ship, and then the Host had come in to whisk them away because one of the Suits was coming to attack them. Of course, he hadn’t said that to Dark, but as they were waiting in the hallway the person that came around the corner wasn’t a hitman in a dark suit. It was Chase Brody, without a mask,

“Look Average, get out of the way, one of the Suits is coming down here,” King called out.

“The Host’s brothers and sister are mistaken, that is Clubs,” the Host corrected.

“Nah, can’t be right, he doesn’t actually use real guns, an’ Clubs’s killed like, a lot ‘a people,”[1] Yancy argued.

Illinois moved to start placing magical barriers, because if the Host said that was a Suit, Illinois was going to believe him.

“Illinois,” Brody called out, “did the Host tell yeh[2] why I’m here? I bet he didn’t.”

“Illinois should not listen to Brody,” the Host ordered.

“Why, ‘cause[3] we’re on the same side?” Brody sounded pissed. “Cause yeh’ve been lyin’ to him fer weeks? ‘Cause yeh ne’er cared about Dark.”[4]

“Brody has spoken a bold-faced lie!” the Host shouted. “Brody wants to kill the Madman and the Host is trying to prevent it.”

“He can’t die,” Brody dismissed. “All I’m gonna do is shoot him once an’ let him just fook off. I don’t know why yeh put us through this shite when yeh could’a just left us alone.”[5]

Just then the dome was shaken by the first hit from Logan’s robot. The walls flicked in and out of existence for a second and in that brief moment, Brody slipped through the wall.

He raced through the dining area and pulled a gun on Wilford and pulled the trigger, the magical round strike exactly where the very angry sniper had meant to hit: the left temple. Wil’s magic counteracting most of the blow, a light bruise and some blood from gazed skin would be all he would suffer from this wound.

But the dome cracked one final time and Brody raced for Dark who was braced with magic to attack. The dome snapped back to a smaller size and trapped Dark and the Suit inside.

Illinois took a second to realize what had happened, and raced over. He spared a glance to Wil who was grumbling as he picked himself up and motioned for Illinois to go on. So Illinois raced to the barrier and threw as much magic and physical force at the dome but it held much stronger than when the dome was larger.

“No!” Illinois screamed, trying to force a way in. “Come on, open.”

“Here, let me,” Wil tried to pick himself up and try to break down the dome but it refused to give. “Fiesty little bugger, ain’tcha[6]?”

“There is little point when the Anomaly isn’t done yet,” the Host walked up. “Clubs isn’t going to kill or hurt the Entity. They’re in fact in the single most protected spot in the city, at the moment.”

“Yeah, but we need to get him out,” Illinois told the Host.

The Host frowned, “Of course the Host and his family do but they need enough aura and the Host will have to get Marvin and Nate to help with that. If he could find a couple of the Sides that would help.”

“That was Clubs, what does he actually want?” Illinois demanded. “Bullshit time is over.”

“Clubs . . . he . . . Brody,” the Host began, trying to find a way to calm Illinois without making the situation worse.

“Host, this isn’t the time to be cryptic,” Illinois demanded. “What does he want?”

“Clubs wants Dark to be safe and to have vengeance for the Entity’s sake in equal measure,” Host forced himself to say.

“Well then this seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding then,” Wil huffed out. “Maybe we could talk to him then.”

“Brody is not interested in talking anymore,” the Host said.

Wil shrugged, and pulled out a gun out of thin air, “Oh well, we tried.”

“What does he want with the Ol’[7] Man then?” Yancy asked, and he looked around and saw the beanstalk shooting up into the sky. “The fook[8] is that?”

“Not our concern right now,” Illinois dismissed. “What does he want with Dark?”

“The Host already told Illinois,” the Host tried to evade.

“You’re being vague,” Illinois grumbled. “What does Clubs want and why does he look like Bro Average?”

“Because it is him,” the Host answered quietly.

Illinois glared at the Host in suspicion before looking at the dome, “Why is he so interested in him then?”

“Because in fifteen minutes Illinois and his siblings will lose one father and the other will grow distant in grief, and the Host has been desperately trying to prevent it. After the Madman dies, Brody and the Entity will—”

Illinois stormed off, wanting to get away from the situation, mostly because his mind couldn’t wrap itself around what the Host had told him.

Eric followed him over, Bim close on his heels. The rest of their family followed much slower, at least trying to pretend to give Illinois some privacy of thought.

When Eric and Bim finally caught up to him, Illinois was sitting on a pile of rubble. Eric came to sit down next to him, looking nervous. “Want to talk?”

“I just,” Illinois faltered, taking a deep breath. “I never thought about the possibility of there being another man in his life. They’ve always been together.”

“Maybe the old man got sick of Dad, he’s such a fucking hardass,” Bim thought out loud.

The adventurer turned to glare at his adopted brother, getting back on his feet, “Maybe it had less to do with the fact that Dark somehow betrayed Wil, and more to do with the fact that your dad is a cheating bastard who fucks everything that moves.”

“My dad?” Bim huffed in a rage.

“Now boys, there’s no need to—” Wil tried to cut in, but he was promptly ignored as he was walking up.

“Yes, your dad,” Illinois spat back, starting to get angrier. “Because maybe that fucker’s wrong, or maybe the rest of you actually don’t care because I spent fifteen damn, fucking years reversing whatever shit you managed to do in your first five.”

“Ex-fucking-cuse you?” Bim spat, his eyes going wild with anger, aura curling around him. “I didn’t do anything.”

“He never wanted any of us calling him dad, after five years of spending time with you. I kinda get it.” Illinois accused. “You had to have done something!”

“Guys, stop it,” Yan begged.

“Come on, we’s shouldn’t be fightin’,”[9] Yancy pushed his way in-between them.

“Get out of the way, Yanc,” Illinois shouted, pulling his lucky coin out of his pocket.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be placing the blame on me, I was never good enough!” Bim argued back. “He had to replace me with you!”

“I shouldn’t have had to replace you if you were a better fucking person!” Illinois shouted.

“Fuck,” King was just watching, trying to stay quiet before his brothers turned on him.

“Enough!” The Host shouted, his aura yanking Bim and Illinois apart.

“Boys, boys,” Wil moved in. “There’s no need for this, your father and I love all of you the same.”

“Not true, Illinois is the favorite,” Bim spat.

“I’m not the favorite, you are,” Illinois spat back.

“The Host said STOP!” The Host demanded, concentrating. “Now if Bim and Illinois are done airing their family’s dirty laundry where anyone can hear, there’s precious time and the hunters are closing in.”

“Fuck,” Illinois growled and most of the group headed back to the dome while King and Host went to go and find Marvin and Nate to help pop the barrier.

Dark woke up slowly, like being roused from a deep sleep. Groaning, Dark looked around to see he was in a bedroom, in a bed that wasn’t his and a home that wasn’t the Manor. Quickly Dark got out of bed and found he was still in his white suit. Which he found he appreciated a lot more the more he thought about it.

When he got to the door he opened it easily with his aura. There was no lock or barrier of any kind. And there was the sharp smell of bacon coming down from the hallway.

The only other doors he found were off to the side of the bedroom he’d been in that lead to a full walk in closest that contained all types of suits and clothes. In the hallway that was a bedroom with a bunk bed and a mass of clothes and toys strewn about inside. There was a hallway closet, an immaculately kept office that Dark found that he wouldn’t have designed the placement and decorations of any better if he had tried, and a hallway bathroom.

Following the scent of home cooked breakfast and bacon, Dark saw Brody standing in the kitchen. The hitman turned around and smiled at the Entity.

“Finally awake?” Brody smiled. “Good, I was a little worried.”

He separated out food and coffee onto two spots of the table, seated for four. As Dark watched from a cautious distance.

“I figured yeh didn’t trust me enough ta eat anythin’ I made, but I made some fer yeh anyways,”[10] Brody offered. “I got yer[11] coffee, just the way yeh[2] like it.”

“You’re right,” Dark scoffed, looking around. “I’m not going to take or eat anything you give me.”

Chase gave a wry, amused chuckle, sipping on his coffee. “I figured.”

Dark looked at the three shoes by the door, one pair of adult sized boots, and two pairs of black and white child-sized shoes. They were such small shoes, judging by the size the children who wore them couldn’t be any older than three or four. A nostalgic pang hit Dark as he remembered when Bim had been that small. It had been an incredibly difficult time in his life, but he didn’t regret a second of it.

“What do you want?” Dark demanded.

“I already have what I want,” Brody smiled as he sat back in his chair. “Yer in here safe, an’ in about fifteen minutes the barrier will dissipate on its own an’ yeh’ll be free ta go. In fact, I’m not e’en keepin’ yeh here. Host just turned on the Anomaly an’ we’re stuck here until it pops again. So I figured we should kick back an’ relax until it does.”[12]

Dark shielded himself in his aura and looked around the place. It seemed like a cozy home. There was a box full of toys in the living room, more evidence that the children who lived here were on the young and small side. “Who’s house is this?”

“Legally my name’s on all the papers,” Brody told him. “I live here with my family. It’s a nice place, not too big, not too small. The boys love it.”

“Yes, I saw the toys,” Dark tried stalling for time as he spread what aura he could spare from shielding himself to investigate the place. The front door wouldn’t budge, it was like it was a painting on a wall rather than functional . . . as were the windows and the back door. “And the shoes.”

“Oh yeah,” Brody hummed, he was staring at Dark.

Which was weird because there was no malice in the state and he’d taken great pains to make himself as comfortable in the kitchen chair as possible, so if he struck then Dark would have more than enough time to counter.

“Just tell me what you actually want,” Dark huffed out, unused to such singular attention. “Is it information?”

“I just want ta[13] spend time with yeh[2],” Brody frowned, “an’ I already told yeh, I don’t want any money or anythin’ like that.”[14]

Then his smile came back, “Besides, there’s nothin’ about yeh that I don’t already know. I know about Marc an’ about the fact that he an’ his whole family stole e’erythin’ from yeh. I know about what a shitebag yer ex was. I e’en know that there’s this lovely spot behind yer ear that yeh—”[15]

“Enough,” Dark spat, a dark grey-purple blush spreading across his face. “I do not appreciate being made fun of. Why keep me here if you didn’t want something? Everyone wants something.”

Brody waved his hand in dismissal, “That right there is our problem, but soon it won’t be a problem. The barrier will collapse an’ yeh’ll be free ta go about yer day. An’ I’ll be here, waitin’ fer yeh if yeh need anythin’ from me.”[16]

The house seemed to shake as an incessant pounding attacked the door. The protective dome around them shaking. With a couple shakes, the coffee mug intended for Dark rattled and fell off the table, shattering on the floor in a mess of lukewarm coffee and broken ceramic.

“Fook,”[8] Chase grumbled and ran to the door to throw his weight and aura at it to try and keep it closed. “Fook[8] off, Host.”

The house flickered twice and the tentative magic snapped. Brody saw four sources of magic pointed right at him: Nate, Marvin, the Host, and Illinois.

Their combined magic knocked Brody to the side.

“Darky!” Wilford rushed over as Dark saw in the distance the hunters start to converge on their location, finally getting through the destroyed parts of the city.

The Guildmaster and Dark took one look at each other in the chaos of the commotion around them. She took as much magic as she could collect, having saved up as much strength and aid from the myriad of magical items and trinkets she had collected over the weeks and months while the Suits — Spade in particular — had attacked her hunters and fired it at Clubs first but as he was removed Dark was still in the path of destruction. Which wasn’t a trade off she was lamenting.

And then Wilford cut right in front of Dark, trying to see if he was okay.

In an act of panic, born from the months he’d been on edge with the Suits, Dark threw a portal in front of him and Wilford unwittingly stepped through it. The portal took him several feet to the right and the Entity was hit by the full might of the single strongest attack he had ever felt in the hundreds of years of the demon’s existence.

The strike cut through the aura that he tried to gather up to shield himself, it hit Damien first whose soul was in the front. Celine screamed inside their shared mind . . . and the body flickered briefly to the much smaller and weaker being that had once inhabited it before the combined force of the Entity had pushed them out.

Toppling backwards, Dark blacked out and fell to the ground. The body’s form flicking dangerously between all of their appearances as Dark’s souls were starting to crack and break at the seams.

And Dark’s souls weren’t the only ones screaming.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations

1. Nah, can’t be right, he doesn’t actually use real guns, and Clubs has killed like, a lot of people,

2. you

3. because

4. Because you’ve been lying to him for weeks? Because you never cared about Dark.

5. All I’m going to do is shoot him once and let him just fuck off. I don’t know why you put us through this shit when you could have just left us alone.

6. aren’t you?

7. Old

8. fuck

9. Come on, we shouldn’t be fighting

10. I figured you didn’t trust me enough to eat anything I made, but I made some for you anyways

11. your

12. You’re in here safe, and in about fifteen minutes the barrier will dissipate on its own and you’ll be free to go. In fact, I’m not even keeping you here. Host just turned on the Anomaly and we’re stuck here until it pops again. So I figured we should kick back and relax until it does.

13. to

14. and I already told you, I don’t want any money or anything like that.

15. Besides, there’s nothing about you that I don’t already know. I know about Marc and about the fact that he and his whole family stole everything from you. I know about what a shitbag your ex was. I even know that there’s this lovely spot behind your ear that you—

16. That right there is our problem, but soon it won’t be a problem. The barrier will collapse and you will be free to go about your day. And I’ll be here, waiting for you if you need anything from me.

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

stay with me

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Prompts: 1. “Stay with me.” 31. “I can’t do this without you.” 33. “Let’s give these fuckers a show.” 39. “It hurts so fucking bad.”

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: language, blood, violence, fluff and angst

PLEASE READ: I haven’t mentioned anything in the fic but the idea is that instead of getting married Tilde and Eggsy broke things off after the events of the Golden Circle. The reader is the new Merlin who has been dating Eggsy for a couple of years

A/N: actually super proud of this one, so I hope you guys enjoy!

What the fuck were you thinking? You scolded yourself as you gazed up at the monstrous mansion from your seat in the limousine, its size dwarfing you, making you feel even smaller than you already did. How on earth were you going to pull this one off? 

The mission was supposed to be simple. Eggsy went undercover to gather intel, you hacked the location’s mainframe remotely from the Kingsman HQ, and together you would stop the bad guy from executing whatever diabolical plan they had dreamt up. Same as usual. You had hoped Eggsy would even be home in time to salvage your date night which had so rudely been delayed by William Bates, Kingsman’s latest Bad Guy To Beat. 

Unluckily for you, however, Bates was also a tech genius, that being how he made his fortune which he was now using to fund his evil masterminding. Which is why, instead of being able to hack his system remotely, as you normally did as Kingsman’s new Merlin, you were having to go undercover with your boyfriend to access his mainframe manually. With the power of coercion on your side, you should be able to get the biometric scans you need while Eggsy gathers the intel you need to shut down Bate’s boy’s club that are supposedly going to take control of the UK government. How exactly they thought they were going to do that, you didn’t know. All you knew was that your complete lack of field experience and minimal hours of training had not prepared you for this scenario at all. 

“You ready, love?” Eggsy asked you from his seat opposite you in the limo. His strong, unfaltering gaze grounded you, taking your brain away from the enormity of the mission at hand. 

You were two very capable agents. Eggsy especially. You had complete faith in him. But you knew, right now, you needed to be someone he could put his faith in. The mission comes first, you reminded yourself. So you exhaled slowly, putting your anxieties aside. “Let’s give these fuckers a show,” you smirked at him, referring to your cover.

His smirk in return was immediate. “That’s my girl.”

As soon as he opened the limo door, the Eggsy Unwin you knew was gone, replaced in the blink of an eye by billionaire, Robert Hudson, looking to buy into this boy’s club of Bates’. He helped you out of the limo and then you walked, arm in arm, up to the security guards posted at the grand double doors of Bates’ home, where he tonight was hosting his charity’s annual gala. A front for inducting rich, like-minded extremists into his little group. 

“Hudson, party of two,” Eggsy smiled politely at the guards, exuding confidence from his every pore. 

The security guard, a large bald man with an expressionless face, looked down at his tablet for all of two seconds before he looked up again, surveying the area. “Welcome, sir,” he said as he and the other guard moved in unison, opening a door each to grant you entrance to one of the most lavish scenes you had ever witnessed in person. 

You worked hard to keep the awe from your face, knowing Arabella Hudson should be well used to the kind of scene before her. Gorgeous gowns and bespoke suits littering the grand ballroom, framed by stunning floristry and lit by glittering chandeliers. Normally, you would grab the first flute of champagne you could find and make Eggsy twirl you around the dance floor to the sound of the live orchestra posted in the back corner of the room. But today, the two of you walked towards the sea of drab billionaires calmly and cooly, finding hands to shake, needing to identify the people who had the information and connections you required to get this mission rolling. 

It was over an hour of talking to various celebrities, politicians and the wealthiest members of society before your host, William Bates made an appearance. He made his way down the grand staircase carefully, extremely aware of the attention that his entrance had grabbed. He walked hand in hand with his husband, Thomas Bates, whose elegance and grace was so severe one might think he was actually floating down the marble steps. 

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes. What kind of a self-important prick thought he had to be fashionably late to his own event? Nevertheless, you plastered what you hoped was a bright smile on your face and joined the other guests in applauding the hosts as they made their entrance. 

“So,” Eggsy continued the conversation he was having with the middle aged Irish gentlemen beside him, who positively reeked of old money, “I assume he’s the man to talk to about this…” he paused, for effect, “gentlemen's club I’ve heard whisperings of.” 

The Irishman smiled slowly, understanding the meaning between the lines of his words. Eggsy had been working his usual magic to charm this oblivious pawn in Bates’ scheme, and he had very easily created the impression that he would be the kind of person to buy into whatever it was they were planning.

To your surprise, you seemed to be a natural at acting the part and aiding Eggsy in gaining the trust of the corrupt wealthy you were rubbing elbows with. Even Eggsy with his years of experience struggled to keep the admiration and pride out of his eyes as he watched you, nailing the undercover operation. 

“He sure is,” the Irishman confirmed, accent thick. “I’ll take you to see him myself. We could use more members like yourself,” he commented cryptically. 

That was how you found yourself, another hour later, approaching William Bates, the Irishman leading the way. “William, I’d like you to meet my new friend, Robert Hudson, and his gorgeous wife, Arabella.” 

“How do you do?” Bates greeted as he shook Eggsy’s hand. 

The two of you fawned over the magnificence of the gala, paying your respects to the host before the Irishman couldn’t help but interject in your small talk. “Will, I think Rob here is a prime candidate for your little side project.” 

“Well, if you keep bringing me great candidates it won’t be so little,” Bates jested cheesily, clearly trying to maintain a cover. 

“From what little I’ve heard of this project I developed a great interest. I’d love to be able to discuss it with you further and hopefully get involved,” Eggsy lied.

“That is just excellent,” a grin crept over Bates’ face, clearly eager to induct more extremists. “I’m not going to lie to you, I did a bit of reading up on you and I think you would be perfect.” You bit back a smile, the idiot had found the digital trail you had left for him to find Eggsy and contemplate him as a new recruit. “I’d actually love to discuss it now, if you don’t mind?” 

Eggsy cast his eyes down at you, feigning a questioning glance for permission. You gave him a reassuring smile and the smallest of nods. “That sounds great.” 

“Phenomenal! You two, follow me,” he began to turn, leading you out before Eggsy interjected. 

“I prefer not to involve my wife in business actually.”

My wife. For a split second, you forgot the extreme stakes of the situation you were in, so taken aback by what Eggsy had called you. Obviously, it was just for his cover. Nevertheless, there was a deep longing in your chest. You were quite sure you wanted nothing more from this life than to be Eggsy’s wife. To be with him for life. 

As quickly as the thought entered your mind, it went away, realising you were going to be on your own from here on out. Panic seeped through your chest, burning up within you. Despite your emotions, you maintained a neutral expression.

“Go enjoy the party, darling,” Eggsy spoke directly to you now. “I’m sure I won’t be long gone.” 

With that, he sent you one of his dazzling winks only you could see, and he followed Bates away from the party and down a heavily-guarded corridor. You were officially on your own. 

As discussed, you mingled for a while longer before you excuse yourself from the conversation you were in to go to the ladies. Your precaution in avoiding arising any form of suspicion by making your exit at the same time as Eggsy was largely unnecessary, seeing as the majority of the guests were far too intoxicated at this point to even take note of you. 

“Excuse me?” You approached one of the guards barricading the corridor Eggsy had just disappeared down. “I was wondering if you could show me the way to the bathroom?” As you spoke, you placed the faintest of touches to his arm, as though to grab his attention. In actual fact, you were placing a small clear patch on his bare skin, imperceptibly using concentrated, fast-acting toxins to make him extremely susceptible to charm. In less than twenty seconds, he would be doing whatever you asked of him. It was of your own design, and you were extremely proud of it, to say the least.

Within ten minutes, your big dopey security guard was placing his hand on the biometric scanner to open the control room, with two bodies at your feet. Not exactly ideal, but you didn’t have the time or the patience to patch up every guard you came across so the two guarding the door had to go. 

You didn’t even get a ruffle your skirt until the door to the control room opened, to reveal three men, two in charge of surveillance and two in charge of firing the many weapons Bates had hidden throughout the mansion to eliminate any threats. Clearly, this little team weren’t two quick on the uptake since none of them had managed to take up arms to defend your little raid of their workplace. 

“Shoot them, Ben!” You instructed your brand new personal bodyguard, as you fired your own weapon, concealed as your bedazzled clutch just as Eggsy’s gun was often concealed in a briefcase. 

Seeing you as the weaker link, the third of the men who was yet to be shot charged you, knocking you to the ground. “Oof!” You exclaimed, the wind completely knocked out of you. Without a single word from you, Ben had shot the man straight in the head, the toxin working it’s magic of instilling a sense of loyalty toward whoever was instructing them. 

You sucked in a deep breath from your place on the floor, the pain it brought already informing you that you may have a cracked rib or two. Ben offered his hand, which you took appreciatively. God you missed your office at HQ.

‘U ALRIGHT?’ Flashed across the display of your glasses, Eggsy having subtly typed the message out with his eyes from wherever he was, clearly having been watching your camera’s streaming.

“I’m fine, Galahad, just focus on your end of things,” you adopted your usual objective tone which Eggsy was so used to hearing from you on missions. 

You didn’t have to see him to know Eggsy was fighting off a scowl, hating when you referred to him by his code name. He liked to say he hated how professional you were when it came to your work life, but truly, he loved your unwavering passion and commitment to Kingsman. Even if that translated to you insisting on keeping your private and professional lives separate.

Eggsy, as he followed Bates through a series of secret doors, let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding as he heard you through the comms. He had faith in you and your abilities as a Kingsman, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried out of his mind with you in the field with him for the first time. 

“Alright, I’m in,” your voice rang out through the comms once more. “I’ve got your back, Galahad.” 

Your words filled him with a sense of ease as he walked closer and closer to what was possibly an extremely dangerous situation. He knew you would always be there to get him out of hot water when he needed it. 

“I know all this secrecy and security measures might seem a bit excessive, Robert, but what I’m about to tell you is highly sensitive information,” Bates began his spiel, completely oblivious to the fact that Eggsy’s glasses were recording everything he said. “As you probably know, up until a few years ago I was working on a political career of my own, using the influence I ascertained from my business’s success to try and make a difference in this country. I quickly learned that I was going to be able to change shit all. Too many right wing conservatives in my way voting down everything we tried to put forward,” he shook his head, Eggsy through his research identifying that he was clearly a man scorned by the oppression he had suffered as a gay man his whole life, absolutely desparate to make changes. “But then, just as I was about to give up, I was hit with the greatest inspiration there ever was,” a smile crept onto his face as he paused dramatically. “Valentine.” 

Eggsy sighed internally, wishing for the love of God that the influence of that man would just die out already. 

“To see someone come so close to changing the world for the better. That was… life changing,” there was a glimmer in Bates’ eye, which quickly disappeared as he continued on. “Obviously there were flaws in that plan, however. Leaving so many like minded people to die who would so clearly follow in his leadership. But the way he took action to make change. That was groundbreaking,” he smiled wide, looking to Eggsy now for some kind of input. 

“I agree completely,” Eggsy gave Bates what he was looking for. “But what action could we possibly take?” 

Somehow, the smile on Bates’ face grew even wider, mania spelt out all over his face. “I’m glad you asked,” he said, placing his hand upon the biometric scanner on the wall behind him. 

At first, Eggsy thought he was just looking at an empty room, but quickly realised he was entering an observation room as the wall made completely of glass around the corner came into view. On the other side of the two way mirror, was rows upon rows of beds in a warehouse sized room a flight of stairs below where they stood. Each bed was occupied, each occupant appearing to be deceased as they laid face up, completely still with their arms by their sides. The only indication that they were alive came from the machines hooked up to their brains, displaying their brain waves as they slept.

“It may not look like it, but you are looking at the greatest army in history,” Bates explained. “Each soldier you see here is dormant, their minds made, by my scientists, to be extremely pliant. Each one of them is awaiting programming, which will be sent directly to their brains through those computers,” he pointed to the brain monitors. “My programming will make them the most obedient, most highly trained soldiers alive within seconds. Ready to overthrow the government of the United Kingdom at a moment’s notice.”

“Already working on a reversal program,” you notified Eggsy through your comms, having discovered the information Bates was divulging through a quick skim of his files. 

“Who are they?” Eggsy questioned. 

“The homeless, the poor, the isolated. People that won’t be missed when they disappear. All right wing conservatives,” smugness oozed from Bates’ reply. “All the people who agree with those standing in the way of making the changes this world needs. LGBT rights. Climate change prevention. Free healthcare. And with more help from people like you, Robert, we won’t just be making these changes here, we can make them on a global scale. All you have to do is enter your money into the pool of funding and you too can be a part of our little, gentlemen’s club, as we like to call it.”

“A gentlemen’s club that rules the world, eh?” Eggsy joked.

“Precisely.” 

From your position in the control room, you snorted. “Great thanks for the complete confession, dickhead, that’s going to playback well in court,” you laughed quietly as you typed away, working at lightning speed to finish the program which would set Bates’ victims free of any control he had over them. 

The rest of the conversation became white noise to you as you worked furiously, knowing the time Eggsy was buying you by chatting with Bates and inquiring further into the logistics was limited. 

“Okay Galahad,” you spoke once more, ten minutes later, “the program is complete. I just need you to get Bates back to the party before I send the program to the computers so he doesn’t notice that anything has gone awry before the feds arrive.” 

“Why don’t we go back to the party and celebrate over a bottle of champagne? I’m sure your other guests are missing you,” you heard Eggsy follow you direction over the comms. 

For a moment, you couldn’t believe your luck. Your first field mission.  A taped confession. All of the offenders all piled into one gala, drunk out of their minds completely oblivious to the fact that they were ten minutes away from arrest. Enough evidence to prosecute them all ten times over already sent. 

Luck, of course, was not actually on your side. Little did you know, as you were patting yourself on the back prematurely, a guard was approaching the control room door to swap positions with one of the guards who now laid on the floor dead. In your haste to get to where you were needed most, behind the keyboard, you had forgotten to instruct Ben to clean up his mess. 

The lights throughout the entirety of the mansion flashed red as the guard raised the alarm. Through the surveillance screen to your right, you could see the people around Eggsy go on the offensive immediately. “Ben guard the door!” you screamed, needing to protect both yourself and Eggsy simultaneously.

As soon as you yelled out, the door to the control room was open and Eggsy was into action as he started to fight off the guards he was surrounded by in the most heavily guarded area of the entire building. Ben was scuffling with the guard who had called the code red behind you as you worked furiously to lock the door to the control room and bar anymore guards from interfering with you. At the same moment the door slammed shut, a gunshot rang out. 

Without thinking twice you grabbed your clutch-pistol, as Ben’s dead body fell to the floor with a thud. You were quick to turn and fire a shot straight between the man’s eyes. Just about as quick as he had been in shooting you straight through your abdomen. 

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, body curling inwards as you clutched the wound. 

“Merlin?” Eggsy questioned across the line, even as he fought off the guards from every side. 

You stared down at the crimson seeping through your dress, ears ringing with shock. 

“Merlin, I could really do with some back up right now!” Eggsy yelled across the comms, not having registered the meaning of the commotion on your end of the line. You said nothing in return, writing in pain in the chair which was quickly becoming soaked in your blood. “Y/N I can’t do this without you!” He spoke your true name, desperation evident in his voice.

His words struck something deep within you. Eggsy Unwin, the love of your life, needed you. No gunshot wound was going to stop you from saving him. You barely felt the pain as the adrenaline began to pump through your veins once more. Within seconds you have access to the guns hidden within the walls of the corridor Eggsy was in, and you were firing away at anyone who dared try and harm him. 

As soon as all immediate threats to Eggsy were eliminated, you moved onto the next largest threat. William Bates running for the hills to find the nearest computer so he could launch his program and have an army at his disposal. 

As he ran, you found the nearest gun in a corridor nearby and locked sights on your target. Bates crumpled to the ground with a tremendous scream as a bullet shattered his right knee cap. You smirked, despite yourself. 

You glanced back to the surveillance displaying the party where all the guests were convening. The alarm and red lights had ceased, and while some were sober enough to realise that they should be on their way before trouble arrived, the majority were so drunk they just continued as they were. Despite your slip up, most of the criminals would still be brought to justice immediately. 

So with what little energy was left in you, you hit send on the program you had just designed. Within thirty minutes they should regain consciousness, with their free will and identities still in tact. 

You slumped in your chair, breathing out a sigh of relief. The mission was complete.The world was safe. Most importantly to you Eggsy was safe. You watched as he approached Bates, propping him up against the wall, finishing the mission the way he loved most, rubbing salt in the wound with witty remarks. 

You smiled to yourself, forgetting everything but your love for Eggsy in that moment. That is, until you glanced down at your abdomen once more, remembering yourself and what exactly might be happening to you. 

“Eggsy,” your use of his first name grabbing his attention immediately as you spoke softly across the line. “Eggsy I’ve been hit.” 

With your words, Eggsy’s blood ran cold. No, he thought to himself, body kicking into gear before his brain did, turning and bolting back down the way he came. No no no no no.

A notification flashes across his glasses display that Kingsman’s personal medical team has been alerted and are on their way to the scene.

It doesn’t take him long to find you, remembering the route exactly from when he had been watching you to ensure you got to the control room safely. When he arrived, the door, to his dismay, was locked. 

“Babe!” He yells, voice so much more desperate than it was not ten minutes earlier when he had begged for your help. “Babe open the door!” 

The moment of silence between his plea and when the door opens seemed to stretch on for an age. Eggsy needing to get to you in this moment more than he thinks he’s needed anything in his entire life. The sight he’s met with seems to fill his lungs with ice. You, slumped in a chair, covered in your own blood. 

“Eggsy,” you cry, your fear finally catching up with you, allowing tears to leak from your eyes. 

He’s at your side in a second, ripping his jacket off and scrunching it into a ball to use to place pressure on the wound.

“Eggsy, it hurts so fucking bad,” you sob, overcome with the pain. 

Eggsy swears he feels his heart physically splitting in two, watching you in absolute agony with no power to stop it. The only power he had, was to hopefully take away some of your fear. “It’s all going to be okay, babe. The paramedics are on their way and they’re going to fix you up. They’ll make the pain stop, I promise.” 

As he consoles you he takes hold of your body and lowers you to the ground, allowing you to lie down and providing himself with better ability to slow the bleeding of your wound. The movement causes stars to dance before your eyes, and black dots start to cloud your vision. You shut your eyes, hoping to make it stop. 

“Hey, hey, hey. Stay with me now darling. You have to stay awake,” he tries to maintain a calm tone, knowing the last thing you needed from him right now was panic, no matter how strongly he felt it. 

“Why?” You ask, tears ceasing, head so groggy from blood loss you begin to lose sight of sense.

“Because,” Eggsy fights back tears, “I have a really important question to ask you. And if you go to sleep you won’t be able to give me an answer.” 

Neither of you take any note of the sound of the feds arriving, raiding the charity gala and arresting everyone on the list of names you had sent them. 

“Oh Eggsy…” you smile dreamily, blood loss officially making you delirious. “I think we both know my answer is a yes.” 

Eggsy allows a single tear to fall, the bitter-sweetness of the moment becoming too much for him. “Agent Galahad?” He hears one of Kingsman’s personal paramedics call from down the hall. 

“Hurry up!” He turns and screams in reply. 

When he turns back to you, your eyes are closed and your face is completely void of expression. 

“Y/N?” he asks, hoping for you to reopen your eyes. “Y/N!” he shouts, as you fail to do so. Your complete lack of response breaks down his walls, and he begins to sob over your body as the paramedics burst into the room. 

In a matter of seconds he is pushed away from you, a medic taking his place in putting pressure on the wound. Another medic, takes your pulse, checking to see if there was any life left in you. 

The world slows. An hour seems to pass before the medic says a word. Eggsy is sure that he’s lost you right up until the medic says, “She’s still with us,” giving everyone the go ahead to start work on you to make sure it stays that way. 

Naturally, the Kingsman paramedics were some of the best, so as quickly as they had arrived, they were taking you away, already starting work on a blood transfusion to make up for your severe blood loss. Anytime a Kingsman went on a mission, the medical team had plenty of the agents’ blood on standby, for situations exactly like these. Eggsy had lost too many agents in his time as a Kingsman, so when he and Harry worked to rebuild following the wrath of the Golden Circle, he ensured there were as many safety nets available possible. 

Even as they moved through the chaos that the gala had become, guests being arrested everywhere, the medical team continued their work on you. Eggsy was pushing the stretcher himself, ensuring you were getting as much attention as humanly possible. Sadly, there was only so much they could do until they got you into surgery. 

Before he knew it, Eggsy was loading you into a medical truck and being instructed to sit in the front seat. Away from you. 

“Bullshit-” he began, before he was quickly interrupted. 

“We need the room, Galahad. Do you want to waste precious moments arguing or let us save your girl?” One of the lead medics snapped.

Without a word, Eggsy jogged up to the front seat of the truck and got in. He sat for a moment, fist quickly finding its way into his mouth to stop himself from crying again. Swiftly, he chose to channel his emotion into anger instead. 

“Fuck!” he yelled, removing his fist from his mouth and smashing it onto the dash. 

He should have never left you in the field alone. He should have asked another agent to come to protect you. To ensure nothing like this happened to you. He made the wrong call and he knew it. 

Now, he had no idea what was going on with you. He couldn’t hear a sound coming from behind him over the sound of the siren wailing, ensuring they had the fastest path possible. Your heart could have stopped mere inches behind him and he would have no idea until he stepped out of the truck. 

This thought stuck in his mind, ricocheting around through his brain up until the moment he stepped out of the truck again, scared to death of what might have happened to you in the mere minutes since he last saw you. When he did see you, it was like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. Immense relief. You were still alive. You were still with him. 

But then, all too soon, you were gone again. Swept away to a private room for surgery, leaving Eggsy alone in an empty corridor. The second you disappeared behind the doorway, Eggsy fell to his knees, drained. He had asked to go into the room with you, but one of the medics had quickly replied, “Yeah because having your patient’s boyfriend doesn’t add any pressure when you’re performing surgery.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m her fiance actually,” he mumbled to the closed door.

It was the longest night of Eggsy Unwin’s life, as he sat there in the hall, awaiting either the best news of his life or the worst. It was an hour before Harry arrived, offering him a hug, which, for the first time in Eggsy’s life brought him no comfort whatsoever. Harry brought with him a couple of chairs, and a glass of water, Eggsy not realising how much he needed it until he had downed it in two gulps. 

There were few words spoken between the two men. Harry knowing nothing he could say would be of any help to Eggsy in this moment. Nothing would save him from the dark thoughts he was drowning in, picturing a life without you in it. All he could do for him, and for you, was be there. 

By the time the head surgeon stepped out three hours later, Eggsy felt as if he had aged a decade. Nevertheless, he was quick to jump to his feet, eager for information. 

“Merlin’s surgery has gone well,” he said, removing the weight of the world from Eggsy’s shoulders. He lifted his hand to his mouth, tears of joy springing to his eyes immediately. “There was a bit of internal damage, but luckily nothing to her major organs. We’ve managed to stop all internal bleeding. From here on out, it’s just about avoiding infection and ensuring she heals properly.” 

“Can I see her?” Eggsy asked, eyes glistening with hope in addition to the tears. 

“Of course,” the surgeon stepped aside, allowing Eggsy through. “She should wake up in the next thirty minutes.”

Eggsy stepped forward, towards the door before stopping in his tracks. He turned and wrapped his arms around the surgeon,whom he had met all of three times, hugging him tight. “Thank you so much,” he spoke, patting him on the back before pulling back. 

Much to the surprise of all men present, Eggsy started to jog down the hall, away from the girl he had been dying to see for hours. 

“Eggsy where are you going?” Harry called after him. 

“I have to grab something before I see her, I’ll explain later!” Eggsy called back, joy finally making its way back into his voice. 

The first thing you became aware of, as the effects of the anaesthesia wore off, was the feeling of two warm hands holding your left one. Before you were even fully conscious, the first thought to enter your head was that Eggsy was here. The knowledge filled you with a sense of ease as your eyes fluttered open, as though you were awaking from a pleasant nap and not a major surgery. 

Your eyes met Eggsy’s instantly, as though a magnetic force made it so. “There’s my girl,” his smile reached his tired eyes. 

“Hey handsome,” you croaked, taking in his appearance. Hair disheveled, still wearing his blood splattered suit (minus the jacket, of course), glasses tucked away in his pocket. Although he looked like an absolute mess, he still looked happy, riding on the high that the good news about your health had brought. 

“Oh my days. You gave me quite the scare there babe,” he forced a laugh, trying to conceal the trauma he had suffered through in not knowing whether or not you were going to make it. 

“I’m sorry,” you spoke softly, not buying into his attempt at a cover up and feeling the guilt more sharply than the wound. 

“You have nothing to apologise for,” he reached forward with his left hand, stroking your hair, knowing all too well just how much comfort it brought you. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I’m not sure, did anything happen after I said I would marry you?” You feigned genuity in your line of questioning. 

His mouth dropped open in shock at your words. “I don’t quite remember asking!” He struggled to hold back laughter at your antics. 

“Then ask,” you challenge. 

“Well,” he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a little red velvet box, “good thing I grabbed this before you woke up.” He opened the box, revealing the gold ring you would recognise anywhere. 

“Oh Eggsy…” you breathed out, gobsmacked at the magnitude of the gesture, “is that…?”

“The ring my dad proposed to my mum with? Yeah, yeah it is,” he smiled, “I asked her for it a couple weeks ago. Last night’s cancelled date night had been when I was planning on proposing.”

You placed your hand over your mouth, trying to contain the smile threatening to take over your entire face.

“But here we are instead. So, Y/N Y/L/N, my best friend and the love of my life, will you marry me?” He grinned, clearly already knowing your answer.

You removed your hand from your mouth to give him your answer for the second time that evening. “Eggsy Unwin of course I will marry you,” a tear slipped from your eye.

Somehow, he grinned even wider, taking your answer as permission to slip the ring onto your finger. Kissing your hand as the ring slid perfectly into place. 

“Well, darling, let my first act as your fiance be telling you that you are never going on a field mission again,” Eggsy joked.

“I really wish you would just kiss me instead,” you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I can do that too.”

[fullmetalscullyy]

a conspiracy theory - chapter 7

co-written by @snowdog49 and @jeanhaavoc

summary:  Detective Roy takes on a challenging task… To find Olivier Armstrong’s sword. However, he has a beautiful woman to distract him along the way. Will he, Jean, and Ed be able to find the sword in time, or will they succumb to the conspiracy?

warning: graphic depictions of violence

tags: conspiracy, pining, unresolved sexual tension, private detective au, royai, havolina, mystery, violence, modern au, coffee shops

rated: m | words: 5420

read on ao3

Roy left most of the lights off in the office as he sat at his desk. He could barely concentrate, but he was going to still be there when his co-workers returned. He put the radio on to fill the background and he answered a few emails. The printer fire case was still open, and he was almost ready to send the information to the client, but his arm itched to send Ed to the East and have him get some things down in that area. He would’ve normally gone, but Ed could take Winry and he could basically give them a night away. Roy couldn’t step out now. Olivier had called a few days prior and was asking the status of the case. It was urgent, she insisted. It had been going on for too long. He might have gotten it done sooner too if Riza wasn’t always on his mind. 

Roy turned in his seat and blinked at the pictures on the wall. He couldn’t just go up to one of them and accuse them, especially with who they all were. Because Olivier had chosen to not go to the police, that did place some significance on the item as well. But the question still begged to be answered: Why? With proper motive, Roy could narrow anything down. Stolen cars? Cheating spouses? Even blazing printers, the question always had been “why?” Who benefits from an old sword? 

Ling would have it as a trophy, however, he was cleared rather easily. When asked about the sword again, Olivier gave the same description, telling him to “use your eyes and look at the damn picture” in what he realized was her traditional short-tempered tone. Her patience was running thin before, he didn’t want to imagine her in another two weeks. He needed to focus on this and get it taken care of in the next two weeks. It was a stolen sword! How hard did this have to be? 

He might as well have taken down the wall of suspects. None of them had any reason at all for a sword. Bradley was a wealthy businessman in the mining industry. It wasn’t even a status symbol for him, let alone something he’d put on his mantle. He’d just have one made out of the gold he mined. Senator Raven was mostly caught in his lies, but again, what use would a sword be to him, let alone an Armstrong sword? Senator Marcoh was at the party. As innocent as he looked, he had to be taken into consideration. He teetered his head side to side as he looked at Governor Kremlin’s picture. He was a shady fellow, and when Ed called him, his staff basically told Ed that it was a waste of his time and hung up. Roy squinted at that photo. Ambassador Fu… He couldn’t forget State Representative Shou Tucker. Roy bit his lip looking at him. Not only was he completely dismissive, but he was also hard to get a hold of. There still was no clear reason behind it. Roy nodded slowly. Yoki owned one of the more prominent real estate businesses. Last he heard, Yoki’s business was having trouble with a few bad investments, and his office was full of weird antiques. Roy pointed to Yoki’s picture, tapping on it. He’d have to go back and check his office again to see if anything else seemed off about it, or better yet, have Jean have a go with him. 

Then there were also the other hundred people on his desk spreadsheet. Ed had called most of them just requesting simple information but there was nothing suspicious. Even the head of security, who only went by Scar, had not seen anything suspicious. Roy grumped. If he were a good detective, he’d find Scar’s real name. Maybe he’d do that as a side project once this was done. He was tempted to go walk around the Bradley property. Olivier probably got drunk and lost it in a bush. 

The front door creaked open and Roy turned in his chair. It was nearly 1 am. “Have fun?” 

Jean walked in with a cigarette hanging from his lips, sighing heavily. Rebecca behind him reached for the smoking stick between his lips and tossed it outside. Both looked beat. Jean’s tie was already loosened, and Rebecca slouched in her dress.

“They know how to party,” she groaned. 

“Was there a lot of dancing?” Roy joked. 

“No,” Jean shook his head. “The food was good, and the drinks were great, but once we started talking around… it was just a lot.” 

Roy leaned his hip against his desk. “Please tell me something that will make my Sunday morning one I will want to remember.” 

“Don’t tell me your date wasn’t good,” Rebecca pouted for him. 

“It went really well, but she cut it short.” 

“Uh…” Jean grimaced. “Sorry man, it’s not in your cards.” 

“She said she had to go take care of her dog.” 

“Ouch.” 

Rebecca shoved her boyfriend. 

“We did almost kiss,” Roy added as he lifted a finger with a slight grin. “Then some fucker had to come along and bump us.” 

“Bump into each other?” 

“No,” Rebecca slapped Jean with the back of her hand to his shoulder. “Almost kissed. That means they didn’t.” 

Roy shrugged with a heavy sigh. “But she said she looked forward to seeing me Wednesday morning for coffee, so I didn’t blow it, right?” 

Rebecca reached down to take her heels off. “I think you’re onto something,” she giggled. “Don’t give up hope quite yet.” 

Jean shrugged as he reached into his jacket pocket for another cigarette. “We did get some interesting details though. You’ll want to hear this.” He placed the cigarette between his lips, patting his chest for a lighter. 

“Jean!” Rebecca grabbed it from him and tossed it in the trash. 

“Damn it, Woman! I haven’t been able to smoke all night!” 

“It was just interesting,” Rebecca added. “Politicians sure have ambitions.” 

“They all stink,” Jean grumped. “They’re all damn rotten bastards.” He leaned against Rebecca’s desk. “Making my girl stand all night while they go on about selling themselves.” 

Roy raised his eyebrow at the two of them. 

Rebecca collapsed in her desk chair and spun it to face Roy. She ran her fingers through her hair. “And they talk. Talk about gossip!” 

*           *           *

Jean smirked at the doorman as they approached. The man was in a full outfit, better dressed than Jean himself, with a bow tie and a tailcoat and bright white waistcoat. It looked like it was straight out of a period piece and Jean expected nothing less from a social gathering of this caliber.

They had to look the part, so Jean ensured his suit would be acceptable. His jacket and pants were all black, but his shirt was a baby blue color. His navy silk tie complimented the shirt nicely, and also matched the colour of Rebecca’s dress.

Sneaking another glance at his girlfriend, Jean admired how stunning she was, and watched as she fished the tickets out from her purse as they continued forward. One of her hands was on his arm, so he gripped it a little tighter and gave it a squeeze to give her some more stability as she looked in her purse.

“Invitations, please,” the man requested. His tone wasn’t bored, but he also didn’t sound particularly thrilled to be there either. From what Jean could see and hear, the party was already in full swing inside. Music from a string quartet wafted their way through the open door, accompanied by the sound of conversation. It wasn’t too loud, but the murmur indicated there were a lot of people inside. If he’d been stuck on door duty when the action was inside, Jean reckoned he’d be a bit miffed too.

Rebecca lifted her head, tossing her hair over one shoulder and smiled at the greeter. Jean’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her. The dress she was wearing was a deep navy blue, clinging to all the right places. It stopped mid-calf, showing off her toned legs as she stood in her heels - a blue that matched her dress. The skirt swayed gently as she moved and it was hypnotizing. Just like her. He hadn’t been permitted to see what she was wearing before tonight, she’d just sent him a picture of the tie he would be wearing and told him to find a suit to match it. And boy, was he knocked off his feet as soon as he set eyes upon her. He was still trying to recover.

The man stamped their tickets and wished them a good night, already waving to usher the couple behind them forward.

Sharing a look, Jean and Rebecca stepped inside the lion’s den.

The main room was beautifully decorated. There was a noticeably clear theme tonight, and that was gold. All decorations had a hint of gold to them. The countless vases of flowers that were spread out everywhere were full of white and gold hydrangeas. Even the white flowers had flecks of gold glitter sprinkled over them. There were four ice sculptures designed in the shape of man, one in each corner of the room, each wearing a golden sash across their torso. Jean seriously hoped they weren’t modelled after their host. He wouldn’t put it past King Bradley to go as flashy with something like this.

“Over here.” Rebecca tugged on his arm and guided him over to the bar. Getting a drink right away sounded like a good idea. Looking around the room, Jean thought he would need some alcohol to get through a night dealing with these people. Rebecca ordered a strawberry daiquiri while Jean went with a rum and coke. There was no beer here, to his dismay. He had to blend in anyway and hard alcohol would loosen him up. 

“Oh boy,” Jean muttered over the top of the glass, immediately taking a sip. He glanced around the room one last time, already mentally preparing himself for trying to mingle with these people. While he would absolutely love to treat Rebecca to a fancy date like this, perhaps he would reconsider that idea. A night where he and Rebecca lay on a picnic blanket somewhere quiet with some beer and good food was a lot more appealing than this song and dance.

“I know, right?” Rebecca snickered. “This will be interesting.”

“I’m just excited to do some snooping,” he grinned. “People watching will be fun tonight.”

“I agree. Work first, then we can have some fun later,” she whispered in his ear with a suggestive look as she walked away from him. Jean followed behind like a lost puppy.

Confidently, Rebecca strode towards a group of ladies all talking together. Jean watched as she boldly introduced herself. She turned and introduced him too, causing him to close the distance between them as quickly and gracefully as he could. Rebecca was a natural in a situation like this. She sounded as fake as the ladies before them, but they ate it up. Jean knew she liked to gossip and was sometimes how he and Roy got some of their information for cases. She was an expert at finding out the word on the street. Rebecca Catalina had a way of getting words out of people so easily that it could be frightening.

Jean plastered a fake smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend’s shoulders. He’d spied some men making eyes at her out the corner of his eye and didn’t like it. It reminded him of his own job and kissed her cheek to part ways, whispering a promise of meeting up with her again later.

Meandering around the room, Jean spotted a familiar face he could easily talk to. Representative Falman. He’d worked with him before and Jean had a lot of respect for the man. All his work was done by the book and to the letter, with the best interests of the people in mind. Plus, he was always friendly.

“Mr. Havoc,” he greeted. It wasn’t unfriendly by any means. His tone was dry as one corner of his mouth lifted up into a smirk. And Jean appreciated the fact Falman had left out his work title. “It’s good to see you again.” Holding out his hand, Jean shook it firmly.

“Likewise, Mr. Falman.”

He waved his hand in the air. “Just Vato or Falman tonight, please,” he replied. “It’s bad enough my presence is required here.” His voice was quiet, so no one overheard him, but it caused Jean to laugh. “Let’s just drop the pretences.”

“Not a problem.”

“You’re behaving yourself I hope?” he inquired.

“I always do,” Jean quipped. “When do I not?”

Falman snorted, but it just made Jean grin. 

“I’ve got my lady here with me tonight.” Jean glanced over towards the group she was still talking to. If the ladies’ animated and excited expressions were anything to go by, Rebecca was excelling in her work tonight. “So she’s keeping me right.”

He hummed to himself. “I sure hope so.” A pointed look was shot Jean’s way.

In response, Jean lifted his hands up in surrender. “Of course. All of my motivations are completely innocent. I’m just here to mingle with Central’s best.”

Falman shook his head with an amused smile. “Central’s best?”

Jean cocked his head in thought. “Elite, then. That’s probably a better word choice.”

“Well, one thing’s for sure, they certainly know how to throw the most extravagant parties,” Falman mused.

“Definitely,” he agreed. Jean cast his eyes around the room. “Everything is very… gold. It makes me wonder where they get the money for such fancy decorations.”

“Careful where you cast that thought, Havoc,” Falman warned. He took another sip of his drink, looking subtly around him.

Jean just shrugged. “I’m just thinking out loud. There’s no harm in that.”

“True. Bradley has more than enough money,” the Representative murmured. “Although…” Falman trailed off, glancing around once more. “If he didn’t send so much money to a particular Senator, maybe he wouldn’t need a fundraiser for this program and for his other projects out in the west.” Another pointed look was shot Jean’s way as Falman took a sip of his drink.

“Oh?” Jean asked innocently. If there was some kind of strong connection between Bradley and this Senator, this could be useful information for their case. It may not be, but if Falman was willing to part with it this easily, Jean wasn’t going to turn it down.

However, someone called for the room’s attention, ending their conversation for now. The strings stopped playing and a sea of heads turned to face the source of the interruption. A man who was dressed like a butler announced from the opposite end of the room that dinner was about to be served in the dining room and asked if all guests could make their way through there.

“It was a pleasure to speak to you again, Havoc,” Falman stated. He held out his hand for Havoc to shake, which he did so as he hid his disappointment. The announcement had come at such an inopportune time. 

“Likewise, Falman. I hope to speak to you soon.”

He hummed in reply. “A little bird tells me we may cross paths in the future.” With one last pointed glance at Havoc, Falman moved away from him, heading towards the dining area.

Bird… Senator Raven. It could be a stretch, but from Falman’s clues, Bradley could be contributing towards Raven’s campaign or his other special interests. The information about the west must be important. If it was, judging by his hushed revelation and quick exit, Representative Falman was taking a risk with a comment like that. Jean noted it and shelved it for later. He knew better than to press further than what Falman would freely give him. 

Mulling over this new information and what it could mean, Jean walked over towards Rebecca. She was still talking to the same group of women.

“Oh, you must come and find us after dinner,” Jean heard as one lady gushed. “I would love to speak to you some more!”

“Of course,” Rebecca replied brightly. Jean tried not to laugh at her fake smile. “I can’t wait!”

Despite her more common way of speaking, the ladies weren’t phased. They smiled and dispersed, going off to find their significant others so they could be seated.

“You got them wrapped around your finger? That’s impressive,” Jean commented.

“They’re probably bitching about me behind my back already,” she snickered. “I purposefully didn’t play up the snooty attitude or accent. They were sympathetic because of it.”

“Yeah?” Jean asked as he scoured the board in front of him to see where they should sit. He didn’t see their names anywhere.

“There,” Rebecca pointed out softly, seeing the kid’s surname, Yao, by two seats. “And yeah. I clearly wasn’t born into money if I’ve got a more common way of speaking, so they take pity on me. They let their guard down,” she shrugged.

Jean just stared at her as she walked ahead.

“Have I mentioned how incredible you are,” he murmured lowly in her ear. He caught back up and reached for her hand, gripping it tightly.

Rebecca giggled next to him. “Not recently, but I won’t be opposed to hearing it again,” she teased with a twinkle in her eye.

“Just wait until later then. I’ll show you,” he almost growled.

Rebecca laughed quietly to herself. “Later? At the office?”

Jean simpered. Roy was going to be at the office. He’d have to wait even later than that. 

The rest of the seats at their table began to fill up quickly, the guests eager for their dinner. Rebecca sat to Jean’s left, while six other people began filling in the spaces around. The centrepieces of the circular table were just as beautiful as the ones outside in the main room. However, these flowers were white, sprinkled with gold flakes. Little golden beads covered the table as a decoration, adding a splash of colour to the plain white cloth beneath it. While simple in looks, it felt rich to the touch. The silky texture ran through Jean’s fingers easily.

Once everyone was seated, the same butler from moments ago called the attention of the room to him.  “Ladies and Gentleman, King Bradley.”

Bradley rose from his chair as people applauded. Jean and Rebecca shot each other a look, then quickly joined in. King Bradley was a formidable-looking man. He was tall and stood straight. His posture made him look taller than he actually was. He commanded complete attention, and the majority of the people in the room were eager to give it. With one eye covered by an eyepatch, his gaze was hard as he looked around the room, noting with interest all the faces he saw. He didn’t so much as glance in Jean’s direction, or towards their table.

“Thank you everyone for coming tonight. With this dinner, we aim to fundraise enough money for an engineering exchange program with Aerugo, so we may send some of our brightest minds to the country in return for some of theirs. This is a project dear to my heart, as well as my company’s.”

Jean resisted the urge to snort derisively. Bradley had more than enough money to donate to this cause and still make a hell of a profit by the end of it. He’d done a little digging beforehand and discovered that all the engineering students being sent were from his own company. So, he was getting his friends and other government officials to pay for only his company to benefit from the rewards. Still, rich people love a philanthropist, even a pretend one like Bradley tonight.

“With this program, we will be furthering our engineering capabilities within the country and after this test run, we may be able to open it up to other students from around the country.” He unclasped his hands from behind his back and reached for his glass. “I humbly ask if you could give generously tonight to support the next generation of engineers.” Lifting his glass, people began to clap again animatedly. “Enjoy dinner!”

Dinner itself was exquisitely presented. The portions were small, but the food was so rich that by the end of the five-course meal, Jean had eaten enough. He took a drink of the free water provided in a pitcher to wash it all down with. The water was cool on his throat, infused with a hint of lemon.

“Jean, this is Senator Marcoh,” Rebecca introduced after dinner, her eyes widening only slightly as she tried to convey that this was important. She’d been conversing with him throughout dinner, while Jean spoke to the gentleman beside him. “Did you know he’s spearheading a campaign to try and protect our green spaces?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” Jean replied. He settled in his chair comfortably so he could give the Senator his full attention. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Havoc. And yes, I am,” Marcoh replied.

“Jean is in the agricultural business,” Rebecca lied smoothly. “We’re based in the west. And… your campaign concerns the west, doesn’t it?” she enquired.

“It does,” Marcoh confirmed. “I just want to protect our environment, that’s all.”

“That’s very admirable, Senator Marcoh,” Jean told him sincerely. “And it’s much appreciated by people like myself. Agriculture cannot thrive with no land for it.”

“Exactly,” Marcoh replied. He leaned forward eagerly. “The east is well known for its farmland, and rightly so, however it's the silty soil from our border with Creta that makes the west more bountiful for a harvest. People tend to forget that. That’s why so many factories are set up in the west.” He dropped his gaze, looking slightly crestfallen. Despite their goal here tonight, Jean could clearly see that this man was deeply passionate about his job and his cause. 

“Well, you have our support, Senator,” Rebecca replied.

“Absolutely,” Jean chipped in. And he meant that sincerely.

Rebecca excused herself to go to the bathroom. So did Marcoh, so he could go and mingle with other guests. While alone, Jean looked around the room, observing people. The majority had left their seats and were moving between the other tables. Some had formed crowds and were standing in free spaces, laughing, and drinking with one another. In the far end of the room, by the door they’d entered through, he spotted Falman and Marcoh leaving together.

Bradley was still sitting at the main table. He was deep in conversation with Senator Raven. The other men at the table were all listening intently, but not joining in on their conversation. Jean narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing them. Governor Kremlin was there, with Shao Tucker and Yoki on either side of him. Those were the only people he recognized. There was no one from the Armstrong family though.

He caught movement out the corner of his eye, seeing Rebecca walking towards him. He’d been prepared to turn away, continuing his observations, but his breath caught in his throat. From the angle he was sitting at, Jean noticed how the light of the room made her hair shimmer, almost turning it copper. The simple silver necklace caught the light as she turned to her side, placing something back in her purse. As she looked back up, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her face softened when her eyes settled upon Jean. A silly grin spread across his face.

“Like what you see?” she purred after sitting down. It didn’t help his situation that she’d leaned in close with a hand resting high up on his thigh, whispering in his ear.

“Very much so,” he beamed.

“Maybe there will be time for a later,” she mused, leaning back, and giving him a once over with her eyes. She’d praised how well he’d scrubbed up earlier, but it was still nice to be so clearly appreciated. He’d made an extra effort just for her.

“Shirking work duties?” he teased.

“I meant after going back to the office.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and Jean couldn’t wait.

He laughed, making her giggle too. “I love you,” he murmured.

Rebecca beamed and leaned in close, giving him a quick kiss.

“Hear anything exciting while I was gone?”

Jean shook his head. “Nothing. Just did some lookin’ around.”

She made a show of her shoulders slumping as she pouted. Then, she straightened her spine and rolled her shoulders back. “Ready for showtime?”

Jean nodded. “You did it?”

“I ‘dropped’ it just over there,” she muttered, angling her head away from the room so no one could see what she was saying. “I was ‘fixing’ my purse and left it on that table.”

Cocking his head, Jean pretended he was considering what she’d said, but in reality, he was looking past her. The bracelet was sitting there, next to a vase of gold flowers. It was in plain view, so he made sure to always keep that table in his line of vision.

Not even ten minutes later, a young man approached the table.

“We might have a bite,” he murmured. Leaning forward in his chair, Jean felt himself coiled like a spring. He was ready to stand and move if that bracelet disappeared.

The man took it.

“Hooked. Black hair. Glasses. Black suit. Dressed a bit like a penguin.”

Rebecca stood from her chair gracefully and turned. Her head turned towards the young man who slipped the bracelet into his pocket. He looked around, looking a little unsure of himself, then began to walk towards the entrance. Rebecca began to walk as Jean slowly got to his feet, casually pretending he was going to follow after her at his own pace.

The young man walked through a service door and Rebecca followed close behind.

“Excuse me, Sir,” she called. The guy got a fright, turning in place. Jean noted just how young he looked as he walked through the door. “You’ve got something of mine.”

“Oh, no, I -”

“The bracelet,” Rebecca challenged, holding her hand out to receive it as her other crossed her chest. She didn’t look impressed as she stared him down. “You took it.”

“No, I didn’t -” he stammered.

“You did,” Jean interrupted. His command left no room for argument. 

“Sorry!” He scrambled for his pants pocket. “I didn’t try to steal it, I promise,” he stuttered. “I saw it lying around and picked it up to put it in our lost property. I work here.”

“Sure you do,” Jean challenged, not believing him.

“Look, here’s your bracelet.” With shaking hands, the man dropped it into Rebecca’s waiting hand. She took it back and placed it inside her purse. “And I promise, I do work here. Look.” He handed over his ID.

Jean glanced at it, noting that he did in fact work there. Kain Fuery. It might be worth looking into him, just to be sure this wasn’t a fake ID.

“I always like to keep a log of lost items,” Kain explained further. “Many of them don’t seem to be missed, but still, it would be a shame for someone to lose a piece of jewelry, so I was on my way to log it.”

Jean just narrowed his eyes at him.

“Thank you,” Rebecca cut in. “So, you work for Bradley?”

He nodded. “Yes Ma’am. I’m part of the Events Team, drafted in whenever there’s a dinner or a fundraiser.”

“Were you at Selim Bradley’s birthday party a few weeks ago?”

Kain nodded. “I was. I was working the floor as a waiter that night.”

“Seeing as you're the man to see about missing items, I don’t suppose you noticed a sword passing by, did you? Or did you pick it up and log that too?”

“A sword?” he echoed. “I… I don’t ever remember seeing a sword lying around. Ms. Olivier Armstrong carries a sword on her though, perhaps you could ask her?”

“If you saw a sword like that, would you go through the same process of logging it as you would with a bracelet?” Jean asked.

He nodded. “I would. It would be recorded, but I would probably recognize it as hers anyway. There’s no one else I know who carries a sword on their person.”

“Havoc.”

Turning sharply, he and Rebecca noticed Falman standing at the doorway they’d followed Kain through. He didn’t look impressed.

“Time to go,” he stated. His tone left no room for argument.

“Give us a call if you hear about a sword,” Jean told Kain. He pressed his card into the young man’s unresisting hands and turned to leave.

“I told you to behave,” Falman warned once they were outside. The area was quiet. No one was about.

“I am,” Jean shrugged.

“You’re just lucky I saw you and no one else did,” he replied, putting emphasis on the end of his statement. Meaning Bradley didn’t see Jean and Rebecca questioning his staff.

“We were claiming a lost item,” Jean retorted, gesturing towards Rebecca who was gliding the bracelet back onto her wrist. “Kain graciously picked it up for us.”

Falman sighed. “The party is that way,” he reminded them, gesturing to his right. His arm remained outstretched, expecting them to move to rejoin the fundraiser.

Grasping Rebecca’s hand tightly, they both rejoined the party.

“He seemed genuine,” she murmured.

“I agree. He didn’t seem the type to steal a sword, let alone a sword from the Armstrongs. Too young and innocent.”

“A ruse…?” Rebecca ventured, then shook her head. “No, he didn’t look like he’d have it in him to face the wrath of Olivier Armstrong. He was shaking like a leaf.”

He purposefully steered them over to the bar. He needed another drink.

“Another one?” Rebecca commented. “We’re working, remember?”

“I know, but there’s been a lot of information overload tonight, and maybe I want to relax and spend the rest of a lovely evening with you,” he smiled tiredly. His brain was on the way to becoming fried, and he just wanted to unwind for a little while before diving headfirst back into the shark infested waters. Jean leaned his elbows on the bar and rubbed his face in exhaustion.

“It has been a lot.” She bit her lip. “And we’ve got a long way to go yet…”

The barman asked for their order, and Rebecca got herself another daiquiri and Jean a rum with coke.

“Seeing as you can’t smoke in here,” she winked, handing over his double measure of rum. “We’ll get there,” she added, her voice firm. Her hand rubbed his back, in between his shoulder blades. “You guys are good. Really good! You’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

Jean shot her a grateful smile.

“Case first though,” she replied. “We’ll report back what we overheard and saw tonight and we’ll all go through it together. We’ll work it out.”

“And… later?” Jean asked, voice hopeful.

Rebecca smirked at him over the top of her cocktail glass. The sultry look in her eyes made his stomach flutter.

“Oh yes, there will definitely be a later.”

“Maybe,” Jean whispered, moving to stand so close he could whisper in her ear. He grinned when it made her shiver. “Later… We could...” He paused at her intake of breath and his grin turned wolfish.

*           *           *

Roy tipped forward on the seat hurriedly. “I do not need to hear any more of what you said to Rebecca,” he interjected.

The two of them just laughed.

“Back to this Kain Fuery, I think we should go back and talk to him. What do you want to bet that he knows but couldn’t remember at the time?” 

“He was pretty scared,” Rebecca argued. “I honestly think he was too freaked out that he got caught. He seemed earnest and innocent enough.” 

Jean nodded in agreement. “I hate to say it Roy, but I got chills when I noticed none of the Armstrongs were there. I got bigger chills when Falman was so adamant about telling me that Bradley was funding Raven. It was very hush hush.” Jean bit his lip. “I think… this could turn into something a little bit more than just a sword.”

“I was afraid of that,” Roy replied, his tone grim.

[khancrackers]

Ashllach, the Perfect Kingdom of the Dead

Of all the rivers in the River Province, few are as feared as the Sti-Zu, the red river of souls, the major border of the glorious and tranquil Kingdom of the Wheel, or Ashllach.

Unless you’re one of those weirdo anathema corpse-fuckers, dragons forbid. And even then.

The passage from Underworld to shadowland to Creation proper tends to be difficult, expensive, dangerous, and far too often, all three. Ashllach is one of the more welcoming locales, by royal policy. Ghosts from far and wide come to socialize, trade, and mingle, for the patrols of the Husband Kings are vigilant, and the taxes aren’t too bad.

One king is called the Perfected Chakravartin of Vampire Worlds, or “the Perfect.” The other is named Forever and Always Void Faithful Sovereign, or “the Forever.” And they are truly, deeply, in love. Generous, magnanimous, caring, and utterly devoted to the cause of the Neverborn, the Husband Kings do what no other deathlord would do; share power with a peer.

Perfected Chakravartin of Vampire Worlds serves as the shaman and lawmaker of Ashllach. Garbed in soulsteel and white jade, the Perfect passes laws for gods of death and mortals alike. His spouse, the Forever and Always Void Faithful Sovereign, is the sorcerer and diplomat of the pair. Always seen in robes of black jade and bone chain mail, the Forever crafted, designed, and acquired the resources for many of Ashllach’s necromantic creations.

Bastion Ashllach sits in the middle of a “natural” ashstone formation, tall slender rocks like swords rising out of the ground like a stone forest. The Sti-Zu River cuts through it, a mere five hundred feet, dividing the region in two districts, the sun-touched and the shadowland. Lost souls are carried on the red rapids, only to be caught by soulsteel nets, diverted into the fortress, and ground into metallic dust by the jade grindstone known as the White Wheel. What powers that, connected by black jade gears, is a great soulsteel paddlewheel named the Black Wheel, turning the current of the Sti-Zu into kinetic force.

While the two Husband Kings have thrones from which to receive guests, it is upon the slow-turning White Wheel and its table that the monarchs hold court and command their deathknights. Each deathknight is seated before their own monstrance, slotted beneath that white jade table, proof of the trust the Kings place in their champions. Thrust into the hub of the White Wheel is the personal weapon of the Perfect, the grand daiklave named Reaper Whirlwind. Slotted into the hub of the Black is the direlance/daiklave crafted for the Forever’s hand, known as the Mourningstar.

Unbeknownst to their deathknights but suspected by their Neverborn masters, the Husband Kings hold a terrible, secret hypocrisy; they love life too much to destroy it entirely. While their coffers overflow with grave riches, their connections and networks stretch across the world, and their champions raise jet-black blades in sincere homage, the two dead men care too much for their subjects and each other to submit to oblivion’s cause with all their hearts. Even unlife, for all its hollowness, is still a life, is still beautiful.

This perfect kingdom shall fall, one way or another. The only question is, which way?

The Table of the White Wheel seats twenty-five, but as of now only ten monstrances are mounted beneath it. One of the major ambitions of the Husband Kings is to see a full table of monstances and deathknights, the rest taken from rival deathlords and/or crafted anew. A full half of their deathknights are assigned to the band known as the Dragonkillers, commanders of their planned war against the Scarlet Empire.

Deathknights of the Wheel - The Dragonkillers Band

Flag Blues: All Dead Atop Their Poles. Dusk Caste. Of the five, Flag has the greatest grievance against the Scarlet Dynasty, and his goal is none other than the total annihilation of that empire. Like the shining black arrows he looses with unerring accuracy, Flag is the sharp and unsubtle weapon against the Dragonblooded host, a living pincushion of broken arrows and crossbow bolts.

These Are Truly The Last Days. Midnight Caste. Chief Chaplain of the Ashllach armies, Last Days is their spiritual and moral leader, protector of Ashllach’s own brand of death-centered faith. She urges her flock to pray to the Neverborn, contemplate Oblivion through austerity, emulate the saints of death, and let that divine darkness seep through into the world. Hers is the catechism of apocalypse and ruin.

Great Machine Bleeding To Death. Daybreak Caste. Look upon this world that the Scarlets have made. Magical wonders made for agriculture were used to slay, and destructive weapons were used to make. Madness. It’s no wonder everything deserves to die. Machine is the craftsperson of the band, creator of their Resonators, combination weapon/communication devices as well as portable shrines that transmit information keyed to the very specific frequencies of the Dragonkillers’ anima, tuned through the Oblivion phenomenon. (roughly as fast as a telegraph)

Addicted To So Much. Day Caste. As their not-name declares, entire populations are chained to life by mood-altering substances. Even the Dragonblooded autocrats poison themselves with opium to get through the day. But Addict is no liberator. This spy hides amongst the drugged throngs as a partaker, sells and makes hallucinogenic substances to get connections. There are all kinds of chivalry, and his is succor to those that suffer.

Wallets Full Of Blood. idk capitalism

Misc

Other Deathknights of the Wheel include Open Mouth Mocks God, Red Shirt Over A Dead Man, and Kill Absolutely Everything.

Reaper Whirlwind (get it, ‘reap the whirlwind’) is a big old greatsword with a revolver mechanism in the pommel. Firing the mechanism wreaths the sword in ash, blood, bone, ghost/pyre flame, prayer, or void energy.

Mourningstar looks kinda like the Staff of Parthalan from Dragon Age 2, except it can collapse into a regular-sized daiklave. Still thinking it over.

I really don’t know how to do chivalry in capitalism.

[radramblog]

Blog Classic Mini Retro Edition- now with an HDMI cable

Over the last while, several participants in the original console wars have been releasing mini versions of their old consoles, adorable kitsch that also happens to play a bunch of games. You’ve got Nintendo’s NES and SNES Classic Edition Minis, your Sega Genesis Mini, your Playstation Classic, and…whatever the fuck Atari’s been up to lately.

???

These are glorified versions of those plug-n-play things you got at toy stores back in the day, but I still think they warrant discussion.

When I was younger, I had one of those plug-n-play things I was just talking about. We probably still have the thing in a box somewhere, though I think the batteries leaked acid all over the innards. It was a Namco dealeo, with Pac-Man, Galaxian, Dig Dug, Rally-X, and the comically underrated Bosconian.

What these consoles did was expose me, and I’m sure many others, to what effectively was Arcade Gaming long after arcades were basically dead in the water. I’m sure there were a lot of parents who bought these things for their kids so they could experience the same games as their folks did, share in some nostalgia and bonding experiences. Well, considering none of them had the original Prince of Persia (the One Video Game my mum got into), I didn’t get that. But I’m pretty sure the other purpose was to crank money out of the rights to some old classics, score a relatively quick buck for little effort. Get a few dollars into Namco’s coffers so they could keep working on Katamari Damacy.

And this might be cynical, but I’m pretty sure that’s the point of the newer generation of them as well.

They’re dressed up like the original console to trigger that nostalgic itch to buy the kitsch. They’ve got all your favourite games, mostly, and you can play them on the big screen to see a game designed for a CRT run on a curved 4K behemoth. More importantly, though, they’re another experiment in how to market retro games to people and have them actually want it.

Nintendo (and I assume Sony as well, rip Sega), has struggled with this issue for quite some time, it feels like. From what I can tell, the Virtual Console offerings for the Wii and Wii U were actually pretty good, though they weren’t so hot on the 3DS and they don’t appear interested in continuing the line. And hey, this clearly worked for a while for other folks, why not let the big boys step in the table? Well, it didn’t work for them, and I think there’s 3 major reasons why.

...nah, I’m good.

Firstly is price. These fuckers are not cheap, and people aren’t super willing to spend that much cash on a console that has most of their favourite games, especially since the type to be into the nostalgia of these probably still has the originals. Particularly with the NES and Atari editions of these- like, I might pay a couple bucks for a NES game, but they really don’t deserve the price of admission, even in a group of 30, and there’s always glaring omissions alongside chaff picks in all of these. Like, they deadass put Kirby’s Dream Course in the SNES Classic instead of Kirby’s Dream Land 3, and they only put in one of the Mega Man X games. Bruh.

Second was availability. I get that exclusivity and FOMO is a big deal, and I probably wouldn’t have bought a SNES Classic without them, but particularly with the NES one they just wouldn’t make enough of these things for the number of people that wanted to buy them. This has got to be one of the worst problems to have in selling things, since you can see the number of people that have already decided that they want to buy your thing, but you can’t sell it to them. Funnily enough the Genesis/Mega Drive Mini doesn’t seem to have this issue, I see that shit on shelves wherever I go despite it releasing a year and a half ago. Sega taking Ls once again.

The third, and easily greatest reason, has got to be emulation. They fucked up in making these as recently as they did, because they let people get used to emulating games. We’ve had near-perfect emulation for all these consoles for decades at this point, and despite attempts to take down ROM hosting sites you can never quite keep piracy down. Even outside of PC emulators, at this point it’s trivial to freely download these games on your phone, or even on other consoles, rendering much of the appeal of a product like this inert.

I suppose it’s ironic, then, that some of these make such good emulators. I can only speak for the SNES Classic that I own (but I understand the NES Classic is much the same), but they put a huge amount of hard drive space on these that just isn’t being used, and since their power cable (presumably also used to load the software on in the factory because it does transfer data) is micro USB you can just load all the games they forgot about right on there. Hell, there’s software to run other console’s games on them as well- I’ve squirreled a couple GBA games that I think deserve the larger screen treatment on there (Metroid Fusion and Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow mostly).

These consoles failed, and it’s clear their makers know it. Nintendo has stated they don’t expect to be producing a similar device for the N64, or any other future console- which is a shame, because I’d love to see people re-exposed to the quality that is the N64 controller. But the Switch Online NES/SNES libraries (as well as Mario 3D All-Stars) indicates that the direction they’re going to take moving forwards is not going to involve peripheral hardware. Considering Sega’s recent console release of Sega Genesis(/Mega Drive) Classics, and Capcom’s new, pseudo-free Arcade Stadium game, it looks like that rest of the industry’s titans- or rather, the ones with an extensive nostalgic back catalogue- are doing the same.

…Ok but I would buy a Sega Saturn or N64 classic, though.

[sovinly]

Vex and Vax, platonic coffee shop AU?

Oh man, thank you for the prompt! :D Here is a no-Thordak AU where some other fucking people get to deal with apocalyptic bullshit while the twins have some quiet in their late-teenage years.

“I’m leaving the pair of you the shop,” Samira says one day while they’re cleaning up. She says it while drawing the curtains, but she looks over to see their reactions.

Vax notes it out of the corner of his eye, because most of his attention has immediately and instinctively gone to Vex, looking at him with wide dark eyes from where she’d been carefully copying over the ledger. He grips the shaft of the broom a little tighter and looks back at Samira.

“You’re thinking of retiring?” Vex ventures, smooth as butter, neatly dodging all the questions that must be running through her mind.

Samira laughs. “I’m old enough, I want to go live with my son in peace. You’ll do well with it, I think.”

“Thank you,” Vax says, finding his voice in this strange and unexpected conversation. He’s still stunned at the idea of owning a business. “That’s...”

“Very kind of you,” Vex finishes, gingerly setting her quill down. She doesn’t reach up to adjust her braid or the feathers pinned there, and gives Samira a winning smile. “You’ve done a lot for us.”

“You’ve done a lot for me,” Samira replies. “I admit I had my doubts, but I’m glad I took you on. I’ll let you finish up here, take some time to get used to the idea. But so you know.”

She slips out the door, leaving it for them to lock.

“Fuck,” Vax says, stunned and clinging to the broom for dear life. This never could have happened in Byroden, but it’s a slim chance still in Westruun. With their own coffee shop, they could keep their mother in better comfort, keep their heads above water. It’s not what he expected six years ago, when Vex talked their way into doing odd jobs for pocket change.

Vex, agreeing, laughs a little brokenly.

--

Samira leaves them the rest of the house, too, if not the furnishings.

Vex takes the lead on supplying it and in tidying up the shop itself, with Vax contributing what he can, leaning on favors so they have to spend less money than they might have.

There’s not much to change in the shop itself, well-worn and quietly familiar in its little corner of Westruun, but Vex bargains down some fabric and Vax transforms it into new curtains with a quick and steady hand, embroiders new designs - feathers and flowers - on spots where the cushions are wearing thin. Vex sweet-talks her way into learning a few new recipes and Vax scopes out a new variety of tea, herbal and spicy, and they both spend a few days on hand and knee, scrubbing and polishing everything to like-new.

It’s not bad, Vax thinks, for a pair of slightly-less-shabby half-elves just at the cusp of adulthood. It feels very much like home.

Elaina, who has been tearily proud of them since they brought her the news, beams just about to breaking when Vax and Vex, each taking one of her arms, show her into their new home.

She’s still a seamstress, with slightly slower fingers and spectacles she didn’t used to need, with strands of grey in her long dark hair, but she’s still endlessly kind and still asks Vax to sit with her in the evenings, passing over things to be sewn when he offers to help.

There’s love in every inch of her, and Vax desperately wants to be his mother’s son.

--

They are very good at running a coffee shop.

Vex’s mind untangles finances like instinct, and Vax has a knack for finding things out. They’re both good with people, and sometimes Vax would be envious of Vex’s easy charm if he wasn’t so constantly surprised that people respond so well to just... being spoken with.

Vax has always liked working there, but there’s something different about it being theirs. There’s something comforting in waking up before dawn and doing his hair and then his sister’s, in sleepily stuffing leftover pastries or pasties in their mouths as they set up the shop and start up the fires. He likes the regulars, because anyone he or Vex thinks is an obnoxious fucker is someone they don’t have to tolerate the way they did working for someone else.

He likes the new customers too, even when they’re strange.

“What can I get you, big man?” Vax asks a goliath who takes up a good portion of the height of the room, and it would be more alarming if he wasn’t vaguely familiar with the fact there is a goliath who lives in the city.

“Uh,” says the goliath, with an anxious glance to the gnome at his side. “D’you have any ale?”

Vax taps his knuckles against the counter, considering what to offer. “No, but I’ve got a nice spiced coffee blend that I can put a kick of rum in.”

“Alright,” he agrees, still a little suspiciously, and the tiny gnome at his side beams up at Vax.

“The same for me,” she says, reaching into her coin purse. “Make it a double shot?”

“Sure thing,” Vax agrees, suddenly warm, and returns her smile.

--

Pike and Grog come back in from time to time after that, between little adventures that take them outside the city, for recreation or for Sarenrae. Wilhand, Pike’s grandfather, is never impressed by the alcoholic drinks Vax makes him, but he likes the tea and that Vax calls him grandfather.

Vex ruthlessly outmaneuvers everyone who tries to haggle down her prices, but she and Vax agree without a word to always offer a cup of something warm to those who look like they need it but can’t pay. She also plops down at a table with a shy dwarven woman apparently unfamiliar with everything but the most medicinal of tisanes, and introduces her to a whole swath of drink options, because Vex knows what it’s like to be made fun of for not knowing things.

She takes well to the ruthlessness of managing, but she’s still kind and giving and wants to help, and Vax adores her the way the stars adore the moon.

It’s nice, knowing that she’s happy, to be content, to know that they’re not a flu away from poverty, like they sometimes were, before and after leaving Byroden.

Vax serves coffee to Kima, who the first time she came in asked about a half-dozen places Vax knows closed years ago but now comes in for her doctored drinks, and to Kima’s friend, a tall blonde human with neat braids and a magical air, who has to be visiting the Cobalt Reserve.

He wonders if they’ll be here long enough that someday someone will have this shop and its dark-haired owners fixed in their minds like that, some childhood institution.

--

“I love you,” Vex mumbles, up late from hosting a wedding-party and still fussing over the books, leaning over into Vax’s shoulder. “I would have loved you anywhere we ended up, but I’m happy we ended up here.”

Vax smiles helplessly, feeling his face go soft at the edges, and kisses the side of her head before leaning in against her in return. He would do anything for her and she would do anything for him, and he doesn’t know how people can go through life without feeling this loved.

“Me too,” he whispers, and catches her hand in his, feels like all years in the world are sprawled like a tapestry at their feet. “I love you too, sister. So much.”

--

[tumblunni]

oreshika: you know who is not the bad guy? the bad guy also oreshika: you know who is actually the secret bad guy? this sweet harmless comic relief man who has done nothing wrong

except like its eight glowing brain levels deeper cos the sweet comic relief man is also a giant obviously evil demon mask that ANYONE could have pinned for “really just possessing this dude” since the very start but then his personality was very non bad and he was all ‘hey buddie why u no smile’ to his host and like I LET MY GUARD DOWN OKAY. I LEARNED TO TRUST AGAIN.

i’m at the final battle and I am so pissed off but also HYPED?? like im relaly mad cos like RIGHT FROM HIS FIRST APPEARANCE I was like ‘dear god please don’t make onigashira the real villain, it would be so fucking obvious’ and then i just got progressively more pissed because he literally did nothing evil in the entire damn plot, he’s just evil because Evil he’s some sort of Magical Evil Mask that was Made To Be Evil and like Unquestionably Is That and no sort of interesting exploration on that plot even though he HASNT ACTED EVIL EVER UNTIL THE LITERAL LAST FIVE MINUTES

and it raises SO MANY questions cos like why was he even cooperating with Seimei then?? why didnt he fully posess seimei at any earlier point?? why didnt he kill nueko at any of the five other mandatory boss fights we had with him?? Seimei at least had an intriguing personality that gave an odd justification for his plot laziness. Cos he’s an anti-villain who weirdly sees you all as friends or a mentor/student thing, and he’s really just pretending to be evil so that you’ll kill him, cos he can’t die and desperately wants to. So it makes sense that he doesnt do any of his evil actions until you arrive, cos the whole damn point was just to taunt you into arriving. And its nicely parodied cos he literally sends you tea party invitations to his latest evil plan and gets pissed off if you miss it XD i’m so sad for seimei plz say (mei) that we adopt him afterwards i wanted to adopt onigashira afterwards back when it looked like he was the not evil one of the pair I AM STILL REALLY SALTY THAT HE’S NOT!!!! HIS DESIGN IS REALLY COOL AND CUTE!!!!! AND HE WAS A COMIC RELIEF OLD MAN DEMON DRAGON DOOD!!! i trusted u

okay but to talk about why i am also HYPE i need to go into some endgame spoilers whoopy doop!

so yeah the twist of ‘evilman is actually just being controlled by his puppet dragon thing’ was WAY OBVIOUS and i was really wishing for it to not happen but they made up for it by having ANOTHER TWIST THAT’S WAY BETTER

random description of something else from the endgame that is cool but i dont really know where to fit it into this conversation lol you actually do get to fight Final Boss Seimei here, its a cool boss rush with him and then Super Onigashira Betrayal Mode but what I really like is that its an OPTIONAL boss rush! the first time you play it you fight seimei with his freaky spider legs superform, and then nueko steals it back cos it was hers first. Can i just say again that I love a sexy mom styled heroine who’s powers are entirely around growing friggin monsters out of her arms and stuff? Seriously way to subvert that fanservice bro! (its still a bit cringey when they show the monster tattoos being drawn on her butt and boobs...) so then you go into the second fight and your health has all been healed and now one party member has a new supermove (I was really pissed cos it didnt restore your MP and TP, so I couldnt use that move!) But then if you lose and come back it actually skips the first fight and has an altered cutscene that’s like ‘oh, you’re back for round two?’ and such. MUCH preferrable to stuff like kingdom hearts where i have to watch a damn ten minute cutscene each time! Tho I do wish there was an option to redo it in boss rush mode, I guess that’s just a reward for people who can get it on the first try. I’m prepared now thooooo... :(

OKAY BACK ON TOPIC

Now for this final arc of the story we’ve been investigating the mystery of the Nameless God, some dude in the past who was apparantly super great and then got erased from history. There’s also the mystery of who exactly was Nueko’s husband and what happened to separate her from Seimei and make him turn evil, tho i mean its PRETTY OBVIOUS his dad was this mystery god lol And even though its not really very much of a twist about his identity, its still really interesting how the whole thing is handled. Him being erased from history means that none of the characters can remember his name or face, but NEITHER CAN THE PLAYER! He appears in the interfaces long before the plot actually talks about him, as a silhouette and a name smudged out by ink.

Now the actually cool twist about him is that like.. we’ve been hearing for AGES about how great he was, and how someone must have put out a hit on him or something. And him being in the interface seems like a spoiler that he’s gonna be unlockable later as a godly husband candidate for your protagonists. And even when we see npc optional boss battle gods hating on him, it’s always the jerkass gods who have some sort of reason to be biased. Or (in retrospect) they’re hating him for entirely the wrong reasons based on other people’s flawed gossip about him. “He was too kind and if he made equality then I wouldn’t be rich!” says genericman mc gee, who is probably eighty times less evil than this man

COS THATS THE TWIST

He was an evil fucker and erased himself from history with essentially an alchemy equivelant of a mad science experiment gone wrong. And what happened with Nueko and Seimei was that evilbad mc trashdad tried to use his damn four year old child as raw materials for this experiment, and she tried and failed to save him. And then she was desperate and her only option left was to kill the kid so he couldnt be tortured like that, and then killed herself too from grief. But it all went horribly wrong because she didn’t know that the reason Seimei was a candidate for this experiment is because he had immortality powers as a half human half god. So the poor kid survived watching his mom stab him and then slit her own throat, and he had no clue it was because his dad was gonna kill him anyway, so he grows up hating her and missing her and being this big ol sad mess that’s easily manipulated by a fucko father...

COS THATS ALSO THE TWIST

ONIGASHIRA WAS DADS

WHAT HOW

DADS

And like if they were gonna reveal his entire funny cute sidekick personality to be completely false then I’m glad at least his real personality was Twisty Wow and Immensely Punchable like i still feel like i could never punch a cute puppet pal but i can surely punch an abusive father pretending to be his own son’s imaginary friend for twenty years and whispering bullshit in his ear just to drive him into his own grave and like POOR SEIMEI WANTED TO DIE JUST NOT LIKE THIS NOT LIKE THIIIIIIIISSSS

i still think that ‘hey i was made to be an evil superweapon demon dragon mask thing but i became sentient and decided to be a happy hugs jokeman’ would have been a really amazing character concept too either that or ‘hey it really is a harmless normal mask and i’m just super seriously angsty seimei doing ventriloquism as a hugs jokeman character because i’m lonely as fuck and please be my friend’ either of those would have been better than this but like if this is what we get then I’m at least glad they gave me good enough reason to feel ‘GAHH I WANNA STAB HIM AND SAVE MY NEW SON’ rather than just ‘oh blah this ending ruined my fave character, and i feel nothing towards anything now’

also his boss fight is really damn fuckin coolio wow like it was a HUGE WHOA MOMENT when the fight starts and his name is blanked out and you just instantly know who he was this whole time and your mind explodes that this guy was evil and then he’s like a giant buddha-esque multi armed dude doing sutra poses with a big ol spoopy demon head and then really fun classic gameplay of ‘him summon the many hands and u has to destroy the hands to get 2 him and then they regenerate after a short amount of time’ but he’s also got super hellish simultaneous buff and debuff powers and all sorts of other nasty tricks AND IM ON THE LOWEST DIFFICULTY GEEZ and like for some reason it really stabbed my heart seeing how just one of the many hands is still human, its like seimei’s still in there and maybe he might still be alive if we defeat this guy fast enough... and then the music is SO FUCKING GOOD and it has like three remixes for all his increasingly frantic stages. like he doenst actually have boss transformations for them, its just moveset changes and stat boosts as his health drops. but also the colours of the battlefield change and you get funky remix time so its still cool!

and then I was SO CLOSE, i had him down to 5% HP before he killed me T_T such a marathon boss and I was almost there... I’m really excited to try again tho! i finally got that damn curse off my inherited weapon from the first generation, and now i’m on generation 87, and now im ready to FUCK SOME SHIT UP! also my current party is all named after types of olives because i ran out of inspiration around character number 300 i am so fucking addicted to this grindy ass game!

[comic-movieheroesranked]

Cinematic Comic Characters Ranked! (Year 2009) Part One

It’s rough coming right after a fantastic year of movies (2008) but 2009 did pretty well for itself. Terminator Salvation is our only sequel and we also get an X-Men spinoff with X-Men Origins: Wolverine. Kids favorite shows come out with Astro Boy, Dragonball: Evolution, and G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra, and we got a couple of thrillers with Whiteout and Surrogates. We also get the debut of the controversial Watchmen! Let’s get started with numbers #84-61!

*SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ALL HIGHLIGHTED MOVIES ABOVE*

Cameo Appreciation: The Minutemen (Watchmen)

The Minutemen consisted of Dollar Bill, Mothman, The Silhouette, Hooded Justice, and Captain Metropolis. They mainly appear in flashbacks as they all somehow die one by one. Dollar Bill dies after his cape gets caught on a revolving door, allowing the robbers to take aim and shoot. Captain Metropolis dies in a car accident, which was thought to be suicide. The Silhouette, who looked so damn fierce, was murdered in a homophobic hate crime with her lover. Hooded Justice's death isn't explained but we do see him stop The Comedian from raping Sally Jupiter. Mothman doesn't die but he ends up going crazy and is thrown into a psychiatric ward.

Cameo Appreciation: Professor X, Toad, Wind Dancer, Quicksilver, and Banshee (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

There were a lot of familiar faces among the mutants kidnapped by William Stryker. Those mutants were Toad, Wind Dancer, Quicksilver, and Banshee. When they escape with the help of Wolverine, Kayla, Emma, and Scott, they end up running into Professor X! With his jet ready, the professor rescues the group and takes them away to his school.

Cameo Appreciation: Sarah Connor (Terminator Salvation)

Even though she's not technically seen, Sarah Connor's voice is in the tapes she recorded for her son, John, to help him in the future. With her guidance, he's able to learn about his father, Kyle, who will eventually go to the past to help keep her safe.

84. Hollis Mason/Nite Owl (Watchmen)

"You were a better Nite Owl than I ever was, Danny boy."

One of the few Minutemen that's still alive, Hollis Mason was the original Nite Owl and is also one of the two heroes to reveal their identity to the public. He came out with a book about his life as a vigilante but after the hype of it died down he ends up opening an auto shop where he enjoys drinking occasionally with Dan.

83. The Hard Master (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"We need to invite him in and show him the path."

The Hard Master was the man who taught Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes everything they know. I kind of got a little favoritism coming from him when it came to Snake Eyes and it appeared that so did Storm Shadow, who kills him. Or so we think! At the end of the film Storm Shadow admits he didn't kill their master. So if he didn't, who did?!

82. Jared Canter (Surrogates)

"I'm not in the mood for opera."

Jared's murder started the entire film but it wasn't even him that was supposed to die in the first place. He had borrowed his father's surrogate, who was the actual target. His death is the first human murder in several years and starts Lionel Canter's quest for revenge.

81. Daniel DeCobray/The Baron (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"What a mysterious wife you are!"

The Baron got straight up PLAYED! The Baroness only marries him so Cobra can keep an eye on him and his work in the science field and is constantly leaving him, which makes him wonder where she goes all the time. When she reveals her true intentions, she forces him to weaponize the nanobite warheads before she tricks Storm Shadow into killing him.

80. Mr. Squeegee and Mr. Squirt (Astro Boy)

"I love happy endings!"

These two robots are designed to clean windows (One squirts the water, while the other wipes) in Metro City and are present when Astro discovers he's actually a robot. The two scenes they're in are for comedic relief and they show up at the end to celebrate Astro's victory over President Stone.

79. Travis and Heather Hudson (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

"We all got a choice, Son."

Travis and Heather start the ridiculous trend of everyone who is nice to Logan, will end up getting killed. After he shows up to their barn naked, the Hudson's cloth him, feed him, and give him advice on forgiveness and revenge. Their thanks? They get gunned down.

78. Courtney A. Krieger/Cover Girl (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"Their capabilities are beyond anything we've ever encountered."

Cover Girl was a supermodel before she found her true calling in the G.I. Joe department. She's mostly seen as Hawk's assitant, bringing him papers to sign as well as inform him of missions when he needs it. She's technically the only Joe with a revealed identity who dies, getting murdered by Zartan when Cobra invades the Joe facility.

77. Rubin, Mooney, and Weiss (Whiteout)

"Mooney said not to trust that guy."

Rubin, Mooney, and Weiss are the biologists that discover the lost Russian plane and are at the root of this whole murder investigation. It all starts when Weiss's body is found and later Carrie figures out that he was hit with an ax then thrown off a plane after injuring himself. When the investigation starts, Mooney calls Carrie and explains he'll tell her everything at the Russian base he's at. Of course when Carrie shows up he's lying in his own blood. Finally we have Rubin who actually manages to tell Carrie everything about his team finding the plane except for who was the guy killing them! He takes off because he gets spooked by Doc (who ends up working with Haden, the killer) and ends up getting his neck snapped by Haden when he tries to escape.

76. Moloch (Watchmen)

"I have cancer."

A villain in his time, Moloch is an old man who's given up on the crime life now that he's dying of cancer. He gets paid a visit by his drunk archnemesis, The Comedian, and ends up getting murdered by Adrian so the other could frame Rorschach.

75. Orrin (Astro Boy)

"I feel so nervous!"

Orrin is the nanny robot who works in Dr. Tenma's home and takes care of Toby before he's killed. Even though it's very clear that him and other robots have their own personalities, he's constantly belittled by Tenma for trying to enjoy things like playing with paper planes with Astro. It isn't until the end of the movie that Tenma finally treats Orrin a little nicer, even if Orrin still gets freaked out by the change of attitude.

74. Dr. Serena Kogan (Terminator Salvation)

"You're about to do an incredible thing."

Dying of cancer, Dr. Kogan is the one smart enough to come up with a plan to create a human/machine hybrid. She ends up getting Marcus to volunteer after he's sentenced to death. When he arrives at Skynet Headquarters in the future, the machine uses Serena's identity to talk to him.

73. Richard Nixon (Watchmen)

"We can't let these fuckers think we're weak!"

In this altered timeline, Richard Nixon is able to be re-elected for three more additional terms as well as take on Vietnam as a state. After he disbands the Watchmen, he focuses his attention on Russia and the threat of the nuclear war. After the most populated cities are destroyed, Nixon agrees to work with the other world leaders and untie in peace.

72. Miles Strickland (Surrogates)

"I couldn't tell you his name even if my life depended on it."

The dispensable hitman. Miles is a dread, a human who doesn't use surrogates, and is hired to use the new technology that kills a host through their surrogate on Lionel Canter. He's able to avoid police but ends up killed by his own people in The Prophet's community. It later makes sense as to why he died, seeing as The Prophet was actually a surrogate belonging to the man he tried to kill in the first place.

71. Bradley (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

"I always thought it would be Wade to come knocking on my door."

A mutant on Stryker's Special Ops team with the ability to control technology. Since he never participated in the killings of innocent citizens, I think Bradley also didn't agree with it but didn't have the courage to quit like Logan did. When he retires, he joins a circus but it isn't long before Victor shows up and takes him out.

70. Toby Tenma (Astro Boy)

"Up and onward."

Toby's death was so sad. He was such a bright kid and even if he had a crushing curiosity that eventually caused his downfall, a lot of his death could be blamed on his father's company as well as President Stone's arrogance. How did no one, human or robot, not notice the kid was in the room? With their technology so advanced they don't have scanners that alert every time someone enters? His death leaves his father in a huge depression which eventually leads to him creating Astro.

69. Zartan (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"This is going to be the achievement of a lifetime."

Zartan works for Cobra with a neat skill of blending in with his disguise. He's pretty decent, managing to sneak up on Hawk and Cover Girl and escaping the facility unharmed before he even gets his upgrade from The Doctor. After going through the procedure, Zartan can now physically alter his body to change into whoever he pleases. Who's his first target? None other that the President of the United States. Zartan kills him in secret before returning to the oval office, the U.S. government completely unaware about his true identity.

68. Janey Slater (Watchmen)

"I stuck by you and this is how you repay me!?"

The guys in this movie were pretty douche-y in this film and Dr. Manhattan was no exception when it came to his ex-girlfriend Janey. She was with him before his terrible accident and she stayed with him after. At first I thought he left her because she refused to be with him in his 'dying' moments, but he admits to leaving her because she's not as attractive as Laurie, which is just SO fucked up. It's also believed Jon gave her cancer, which she's dying from, but it was actually Adrian in his twisted plan to heal the world.

67. Barnes (Terminator Salvation)

"I didn't catch that last part."

Barnes is John Connor's right hand man in the resistance and is loyal to him with every decision he makes. With his brother dying early on in the film, his hatred for the machines makes things difficult when Blair tries to rescue Marcus. However once John deems Marcus ok, so does Barnes and he continues his job in the war against the machines.

66. ZOG (Astro Boy)

"I'm old school."

ZOG was one of the first robots ever created and was abandoned on the Surface World when he stopped working. More than fifty years later he gets revived by Astro using his blue core energy and ends up getting an entire makeover by the surface kids. When Hamegg proves to be a jerk, ZOG saves Astro and nearly kills Hamegg but Astro stops him. ZOG saves the day one last time when he uses the same blue core energy to revive Astro back to life.

65. Laird James McCullen XXIV/Destro (G.I. Joe: Rise of the Cobra)

"I've finally taken my place in the long line of McCullens."

Destro comes from a long line of weapon dealers who happens to be very power hungry. To have the world's leaders on their knees, he tricks the U.S. military to fund his work on the nanobite warheads then steals them back once they're finished. This starts an all out war with the G.I. Joe's. He successfully manages to bring down the Eiffel Tower in Paris but ends up burning most of his face off when he goes against Duke in his jealous rage over Ana. The Doctor saves him and uses the nanobite technology to harden his face, turning him to Destro soon after. And even after that, he gets arrested by the Joe's and is taken to a high guarded prison.

64. General Ashdown (Terminator Salvation)

"This is war, Connor. Leadership has its costs."

Many people in the resistance believe John Connor is the key to ending the war, General Ashdown isn't one of them. In fact, he flat out tells John that he believes he's actually a fake prophet. Since he's a leader of the resistance, you can see how this has them butt heads, especially when it comes to destroying Skynet Headquarters. At first they're on the same page but when John discovers there are human prisoners, including his future father, he tries to stop Ashdown, who believes casualties are necessary. In the end it's Ashdown and his leader that end up being casualties when they accidentally gives themselves up, allowing Skynet to blow them up.

63. Scott Summers/Cyclops and Emma Silverfox (X-Men Origins: Wolverine)

"I can do this!"

It's our first time seeing a young Scott Summers and an Emma who isn't Emma Frost that can harden her skin to diamond. They're both kidnapped by Victor to be experimented by Stryker for Deadpool, Scott's optic blasts eventually making the cut. When Wolverine frees them, they take off with the other young mutants, Emma using her diamond skin to block students and Scott blasting away the shooters. Eventually they run into Professor X who takes them with him to his school of mutants.

62. Lord Piccolo (Dragonball: Evolution)

"With this Dragon Ball, I take my vengeance upon the Earth."

Once again we have a villain that was absolutely BORING!!! Nearly every time Piccolo was on the screen I got bored and there was a least one scene that my eyes got heavy and threatened to glaze over. For someone who was trapped for a thousand years, he was very calm once he was free. He spends the whole movie collecting the Dragon Balls only to be stopped pretty easily in the end.

61. Big Figure (Watchmen)

"While everyone's distracted, we thought we'd bring you a little housewarming gift."

Many criminals were put in jail because of Rorschach and Big Figure was one of them. When Rorschach is thrown in the same jail, Big Figure wastes no time in trying to kill him with his goons. His plan fails horribly, and he ends up getting killed by Rorschach by the end of it. They don't show what happens, only that there's a lot of blood and toilet water so the rest is really up to the imagination.