#do I just go the mysterious route and say that it was impossible to pin down but his gaze had a dark aura or some shit

[h0l0gramglasses]

yk writing fun little fics about you and your friends being in the star trek universe is all well and good until you're sitting awake at midnight closely inspecting photos and videos of john de lancie's face because you cannot for the life of you tell what colour his fucking eyes are and you need it for literally one sentence in a character description

[yanderart]

He caught you when no one else did; defeated you when no one else could. Whether you liked to admit it or not, Eraserhead had clearly proven his worth.

So why didn't you prove yours, little villain?

Another portrait for my POV yandere series, this time of Aizawa. Got a few people requesting me to draw/write for him so hopefully y'all enjoy it 🖤

Below the cut, as customary for the series, is a longshot one-shot that delves further into the backstory (Aizawa x Villain Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 8k).

TWs: dub-con, graphic smut, Bad Bondage Etiquette, degradation/humiliation, brat (villain) taming, cumplay and slight bimbofication. Scumbag Aizawa is real.

— — —

   The day you met Eraserhead, looking back, saying your worries had been misplaced would be an understatement. With not being apprehended and losing street cred at the very top of your list, it was decidedly easy to skip over any of the other big red-lettered warnings.

   You first felt the tickle in your nape while you carried your acquisitions across downtown Musutafu, accompanied by the familiar presage of someone watching your every movement. The city around you was bustling, as was the norm, as loud and meandering in its complaints as a chronically diseased elder, yet the alleys you took as shortcuts grew quieter and quieter with each step. 

   It was eerie, alarming, and a platitude of other adjectives you shamefully chose to neglect. 

   “So this is the great V/N in the flesh,” the lazy cadence of someone calling out your alias froze you mid-step, the way his owner dragged each syllable telling you he hadn’t yet decided whether you were worth wasting his breath on. 

   Your body was responding before you even had a chance to properly process the threat, running on instinct and muscle memory as you twirled to face the mysterious man and prepared to...

   “Cute dress, kid.” Eraserhead in the flesh stood barely a few feet away, glowing scarlet orbs illuminating his preternaturally blank expression and transforming it instead into a visage of pure intimidation. “Didn’t pitch you for the frilly type.”

   The growing panic in your chest put a hitch in your breath as you stared back. Yet you couldn’t help but still try, fruitlessly hoping—hands clenched, nails puncturing your own flesh as you tried to force your dormant quirk awake. And all for naught, considering your efforts were only repaid by the hatchet of your sinking realization being buried even deeper. 

   Although, the Pro-Hero also appeared to notice your meager attempts, taking a few steps closer to your form with a condescending gleam in his otherwise somber features. 

   Before you were conscious of what you were looking at (and before you had half a mind to attempt a quirkless attack on the hero), you observed the weapon wrapped around his neck unfolding fluidly, the extensions of fabric reaching out to envelop you in a forceful embrace that left your arms tucked to your sides and your back uncomfortably straightened. 

   “Better to trap you before you get any wild ideas. It’s your fault you’re in this position in the first place anyways,” he was taunting you, prodding you and poking you as you found yourself completely at his mercy, uselessly struggling much in the same way many of your victims had surely felt in their last few moments at your hands. 

   "Eraserhead," his pseudonym resembled an insult on your tongue, your rage and resentment making for rather colorful enhancements. "Don’t you have anything better to do than trapping helpless girls with this weapon of yours? Didn't peg you for a pervert."

   Usually, you managed to reign in some of your nastier attitudes, channeling them into your quirk and the violence you could inflict with it…

   But tied up and under the influence of his own ability as you were? All you had was pettiness. 

   "You can dress up as a civ all you want. Won't be fooling me." He took several steps, closing the distance between you two with barely the hint of a smile morphing his stern expression.  

   You could see the faint stubble on his handsome face from this up close, blood-shot eyes that refused to blink as they studied you in ample detail. Could even see the scar carved onto one of his cheekbones, a textured promise of the fight he had survived and now wore as a medal. 

   Such was your luck, that the Pro to finally catch up with you had to be this rugged scumbag. 

   "I'm not even engaging in any criminal activities, Eraseridiot." Your insult was terrible, but you were never much of a verbal sparrer. Not when you could use your fists instead. "What are you gonna send me to the pigs for? I know my rights."

   And you did. So when the condescension on the lazy hero's face turned into a full-on expression of mockery as he approached your "bag of acquisitions," you audibly gulped. Goddamn stalker couldn't have been following you for that long? Could he? 

    If only you knew. 

   "Then," he held up the bag with an indolent brand of interest, the contents dangling tauntingly from his clutch. "How do you explain this over here? I reckon even dirt like you knows what stealing qualifies as." His other hand dived for the contents and before you could voice any protest, cheeks blushing furiously, a slow hint of a chuckle was bobbing his adam's apple. "It would be a fun thing to peg you down for, though."

   That damned weapon of his didn't give out an inch as you started to furiously struggle, becoming instead impossibly tighter with each futile attempt at freeing yourself.

   "You fucking psycho, is this your sick way of trying to pick me up or something?"

   But your quip did not deter him at all (if anything, it spurred him on). The hand inside the bag tensed for a moment before he was retrieving the sole object inside. To say mortification was written all over your face would be an understatement. 

   A dark pantyhose now hung from Eraserhead's nimble fingers, not a second being wasted by the Hero before he proceeded to bring it up to his face, carelessly stretching the garment until you could see every single one of his features through the sheer material. The way the moonlight caught in it, bouncing off and bathing his patronizing face, made for uncomfortably intimate imagery. 

   (Yet a part of you, one you would never admit existed if further questioned, also could not help but notice the striking attractiveness of it all, making you want to squirm for completely different reasons while the man continued to exert his quirk on you through the fabric of your fucking lingerie.)

   "Gotta say, didn't take you for a pantyhose kind of gal either. Girls like you…" He uttered the last part more like an afterthought, tossing the bag aside before his hands continued toying with the tights absentmindedly. "Are suited for something like fishnets much more."

   By that point, you were sure he was just playing with you. You were such a harmless joke, restrained and showcased like a prize for his viewing pleasure.

   "Reckon you must own quite a few pairs, uh?" He continued egging you on when you failed to give a timely enough answer. 

   (Perhaps the fact that he so easily guessed that detail should’ve been your first real warning, too.)

   Yet you couldn’t help how his condescension and the downright dirty way he stared at you sent dark shivers up your spine, the threat he represented turning strangely alluring under the dim street lights illuminating you both. 

   As a villain, you had robbed, murdered, set people ablaze, and even stolen a popsicle or two from some crying kids. So why were Eraserhead's words having such an effect on you? Why did, a part of you deep down, seemed enthused by the awful way in which he was speaking to you?

   "You don't have any proof I stole them. I just threw away the receipt after I bought them. Very environmentally unconscious of them, too, when electrical ones are a thing."

   Now you were just rambling. What an adorable sight. 

   "Hmm, never thought I'd hear "environmentally unconscious" being uttered by a two-bit criminal." He stopped stretching the lingerie for a moment, thoughtfully scratching at his incipient stubble with his free hand instead, "Are you really trying to sell me the good samaritan angle?"

   To his credit too, he seemed genuinely puzzled by your approach for an instant. Guess even an experienced pro like him still had room to be shocked. 

   "I'm not trying to sell you anything, imbecile." The snobbishly controlled tone of yours was back, the shaking of panic subsiding while you held onto your only hope of leaving this confrontation unscathed. "And my rights clearly state you need proof to apprehend me. Need causality to exert your quirk on me, too, or you would be the one breaking the law." 

   Now, Eraserhead wasn’t annoyed per se. You could tell from what little he had already spoken (and from the myriad of cautionary tales you had been told) that little could rattle the man at all, but your comment definitely appeared to intrigue him. It made you feel like an animal being studied, pinned down, and ready to be dissected for his own morbid curiosity.

   "Isn't this just rich?" His tone was almost lethargic, words dragging on with a faint rumble. "Are you going to run off to the police, then? Tell them how a Pro trapped you and tried turning you in for a very obvious act of theft?", his eyebrows were raised, eyes more awake despite his monotone voice carrying on. "Be my guest then."

   Because of course you were all bark, no bite and he was more than willing to call you out on your shit. So instead of continuing down that route, you decided to veer for a new approach, switching from your assortment of insolent tactics. 

   "Do you get off on this, then?" Your voice morphing into meekness while you adopted an expression of distress, bottom lip jutting out with the sparkle of thinly veiled sarcasm glimmering in your eyes. "Do you like thinking of yourself as the Big Bad Hero, maybe?" And you could tell by the way the incipient smile froze on his lips that your question had caught him off guard. Made you wanna press even harder, "Do you like the idea of taking a defenseless little girl into an alley and showing her just how bad you can be? Maybe planned on teaching me a lesson, is that it?"

   His frown mimicked yours now, no longer any hints of cruel enjoyment on his part. His eyes still glowed red, but he was now squinting ever so slightly, zeroing in on you not only due to the limits of his quirk but also due to the words rapidly continuing to escape your impudent mouth. 

   "Does Eraserhead like to fuck his lays into being law-abiding citizens? Is the power over someone else what really gets you off, perhaps?"

   It was like a spell was cast on the both of you. He couldn't drift his attention, his eyes couldn't stop scanning your face — quickly flickering from the hatred coloring your gaze to the slight quiver of frustration shaking your lips. The hand which he still used to grab your stockings was now a closed fist, knuckles growing pale from the poorly contained strength.

   "Bet you plotted this entire thing, you creep. Wanted to take me behind an alley and show me my place." Your taunts were becoming increasingly more risqué, the anger blurring your sense of preservation—and the hint of something else too, a secret excitement you were unwilling to recognize. "Wanted to have me all submissive and obedient under you, surely. Show me what a scary hero cock can do, is that it?"

   But instead of earning another entertaining grimace, you had a first-row seat to the rapidly darkening expression on his face. Eyes squinted at the same time that the bandages settled even tighter around you, cutting off your breath for a moment before relenting just enough not to suffocate you. 

    And that's when you first felt it for the first time, just when your jests died on your lips and you drank on his foreboding reaction. The grip of Eraserhead's quirk, more constricting than any ropes, wavering faintly around the prison he had constructed around you; the distinct buzzing in your hands returning for a mere instant before flickering out again.

   Now that was interesting.

   "Should watch what you're saying," the pro-hero sounded gruff, voice tinted by a new kind of intensity.

   Like a shark smelling the smallest whiff of blood, you couldn’t help your instincts urging you to dial down. 

   "Always knew you hero types had a hard-on for the power trips. Bet you were using all of this as a decoy. Is this when you strip me and hold me down? When you plow me into the floor of this alley and tell me to "behave or else"?" 

   You knew your jabs were going too far, getting too brazen… yet as much as you enjoyed making the Pro visibly uncomfortable, once he decided to close the distance between you two there was little you could do to stop yourself from flinching. A fire inhabited his expression, the vivid brightness emanating from his stare not only intimidating, but downright frightening too.

   "Are you trying to rile me up?" His hand gripped your face with force, bandages shifting until they were enveloping your neck, holding you up and forcing you to reciprocate his glare, "What do you think will you achieve by antagonizing me even more, V/N?"

   You just looked at him through your eyelashes, still somehow managing to play up the innocent act through the layers of fear settling in. And as expected, it only served to further his irritation, calloused fingers digging even deeper into your cheeks and coaxing the claws of terror to continue trailing their nails all around you. 

   "I’m just trying to understand you, Eraserhead." The way you smiled at him was defiance personified despite it all, your tongue wetting your lips while you caught his eyes following the movement. There was the slightest give of his quirk again, a fluctuation in his concentration informing you that you were finally on the right track. "And I think, given the fact that I haven’t been cuffed yet, that we can both still come to a mutual agreement."

   Fingers twitched around your jawline, muffling your words while your sides were squished together harshly. But even manhandling you, the Hero couldn’t hide the spark in his eyes, an interest you foolishly believed to be ignited by your former comments. 

   "So you are indeed trying to rile me up then." It was an assertion, not a hint of doubt in his leisure intonation. 

   Instead of replying this time, you just slowly blinked his way, observing your imitation of meekness reflected in a gaze that refused to abandon yours. It had been so long since you last tried to play coy, so long since you needed to depend on anything besides your own strength and ruthlessness. You couldn’t help the thrill you got from playing the role. 

   "Think you’ll get me distracted enough to break away, I bet." He was whispering directly against your skin after getting dangerously closer, the heat from his cushioned lips provoking an involuntary shiver. "Do you believe nobody else tried this approach before, little villain?"

   You gulped, feeling caught before you even had time to properly set the stage. 

   "I wasn’t..."

   "Weren’t what, trying to seduce me?" There was a sense of levity hidden somewhere under his timbre, stored between words that kept dragging on in a mantle of aloofness. "Or did you not mean any of your words?"

   When you didn’t reply, you could feel the cruel smile resurfacing against your earlobe. 

   "If I lift your dress right now, do you think I’ll have my answer?" His question sounded almost casual, as weightless as your alias had been when he first called you out. 

   Your heartbeat sang in your chest, an anxious hummingbird trapped inside your ribcage. Because you knew the answer, you both did. 

   When the hand still clutching your bunched hosiery came up to press the fabric against your thighs, you could not help the gasp that escaped you.

   "I bet all those things you were just saying…" His tone drifted off as the stockings were slowly guided up the vastness of your legs, fingers barely grazing you through the thin layer of the stolen undergarments. He was thoroughly teasing you, enjoying the manner in which your expression contorted in response. "You just want me to do them to you, don’t you?"

   Even if you would’ve wanted to object, the pressure of his nylon-covered digits finally reaching your dampened panties was enough to kill any possible refusal. He traced the outline of your slit, soft touches running across it with deceitful lightness, and your mind became positively staggered as you were rendered overwhelmed by his actions. 

   You didn’t have to worry about his next move for long, either, because barely a moment’s notice passed before his entire palm was eagerly covering your crotch. And the new way in which he groped you was demanding, the heel of his wrist putting just enough pressure to drag a shamefully loud mewl from you. 

   The douchebag even had the gall to laugh at your reaction, the sound of his mirth prompting you to writhe even harder as he continued to feel you up through your rapidly soaking underwear. 

   "Knew you’d be a slutty one." His breath was hoarse against the side of your face, the stubble on his jaw scratching against your skin in a way which made you wonder how it would feel pressing elsewhere. "So fucking wet, it must hurt being this eager."

   He didn’t specify what exact kind of pain he meant, whether your growing need for release or the insufferable blow all of this represented to your pride. Somehow, though, you had an inkling that he was referencing both. 

   "Wanna show me just how needy you are?" His words echoed with each laboured breath of his, one of the few signs you had that he was clearly very much into the whole affair despite his detached demeanor. "Maybe you could show me more of your adorable little cries." 

   As Eraserhead rutted his palm against you another time, you found your hips lowering down to chase the feeling much to your own chagrin, more moans making their way out of your panting mouth while he coaxed you to sing the notes of his preferred melody. 

   It was true that you hated his guts… but another fact was that you hadn’t had action in a long while either. Even with the threat of imprisonment hanging over you, you could not deny how desirable the idea to get to cum against that veiny hand of him was, to grip those muscular shoulders as you reached the perdition he was so tantalizingly offering. 

   Decidedly forgotten was your plan of you being the one distracting him. For fuck’s sake, you really were a needy whore. 

   "Why not show me how you cum for me in this alley, if you’re really that desperate?" His words kept getting cruder, his tongue tracing a languid stripe from your earlobe down to the side of your neck, a beautiful path of distractions threatening to dip your sanity even lower. "Be the dirty little villain that I know you are, doll."

   But just as soon as the stimulation was hitting you a second time, so it suddenly disappeared. One second fingers were flexing against your tender flesh, coated by your arousal through the layers of fabric separating you and fluttering with the promise of an impending release, and then the very next instant you were left to whimper (a villain like you, actually whimpering!) in the unbearable wake of their absence. 

   When your eyes searched for the Hero’s again, in his blown out pupils you could only dare interpret part of the enjoyment he was getting from watching you scram for his touch, beautifully bold handwriting spelling out arousal for all to read.  

   Watching you so easily betray your own ego after all of your lip service? More than simple music to his ears, it was an entire sonnet. 

   "But, now that I think of it, you were the one trying to walk away free from this. So why should you be the one getting pleasured?"

   Even in your precarious situation, you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

   "Are you fucking kidding me?" Apparently, your discomfort at being denied was enough to forego your better senses.

   The bindings contracted around you in quick response to your insolence, your neck being craned even further and your arms mishandled until they were behind your back instead of at your sides, a sharp pain blooming from your shoulders as you struggled to adjust.

   Treated like this, he really did make you feel like a helpless little doll. (Goddamn, that thought alone was enough to have your juices gushing again, the trails of your excitement starting to make a mess of your inner thighs.)

   "You don’t get it, do you?" He asked in a despondent voice, unblinking eyes still refusing to abandon your face as he elaborated, "you should already be on your way to some second-rate villain prison, cuffed and muzzled and someone else’s problem."

   At his reminder of what you believed to be your impending fate, the mocking pout on your face transformed into a retelling of real horror. Because your spotless reputation was the one trick in your book that had managed to give you a sliver of notoriety over the rest of the unremarkable criminals, much more significant than any quirk or grandiose crime. 

   So for someone like you to lose that? You might as well hang up the villain costume and retire, for all anyone would care. (And yes, you had been called an attention whore a lot throughout your life, but who could blame you when you couldn’t help but thrive on it?)

   Sensing your spiraling thoughts, the Pro raised his eyebrows in an almost pitiful stint, as if he was truly empathizing with the agonized look of your face. 

   "I know you don’t want that, doll." As his declaration dragged on, the grip that had been steadying your jaw was swapped instead for the peculiar feeling of damp fabric —your pantyhose being pushed against your cheek and spreading your own juices around, all while Eraserhead intently studied the new wave of disgust coloring your features. "So why not show me that even a villain slut like you can behave? Give me a reason to believe that and..." The slickered garment was now pressing to your closed lips, your eyes starting to water with the weight of the humiliation you were being made to endure. "Maybe then I’ll consider letting you go."

    You knew he was lying, had every right to doubt the sincerity of his promise and, in its place, conclude he just meant to take advantage of you in your desperate state and then leave you for the pigs to find anyway. 

    You knew all of that, and yet you still opened your mouth and allowed him to do as he pleased. When he worked the pair of soiled stockings inside, you had troubles recognizing the pathetic sight being reflected your way from the wild hue of his gaze. 

   For someone who had always prided herself in being a predator, you had never looked more like prey.

   "Fuck, that’s it, doll." He pushed the piece further with his fingers, forcing you to stretch your lips until your jaw started to hurt from the strain. His fingers swirled inside, pressing the soaked material against the flat of your tongue and instructing you to eagerly lick it.

   You had never felt as debased in your entire life, being forced to choose between savoring your own arousal while tied up in an alley or ruining a reputation you had fought so earnestly to maintain. 

   (And yet your thighs were pressing together now, attempting to create some meager friction to alleviate a yearning that did nothing but shift, demand, grow.)

   "Look at you cleaning up your own mess," he almost sounded proud of you as you kept dutifully sucking, his other hand brushing your hair away from your shoulders in a strangely consoling way. "Seeing you all obedient like this, one could be fooled into thinking there is yet hope for reform."

   By the time the Hero finally took his hand away, bunching up the stockings before fitting them into one of the hidden pockets of his dark costume, you thought you could discern a mocking smile through the clouds of tears.

   "But now, now, doll… are you gonna keep crying or do you wanna try and take proper care of me next?"

   Not finding it in yourself to raise your voice again, you instead opted to wet your lips hesitantly as you awaited for him to elaborate further. There was a question dying to be asked, struggling somewhere alongside the myriad of insolent retorts and insults you wished you could swing the Hero’s way without being harshly reprimanded. 

   "I wouldn’t call that proper exactly," a chuckle reverberated from the back of his throat, gravely and dark as he misrepresented your movements. Fingers still slick from your saliva caressed your bottom lip, massaging it in a way which played straight into the undermining tilt of his words. "Although I’m sure you must be dying to wrap your pretty lips around my cock. Would give you a good reason to stay quiet, uh?"

   You really had been intending not to fall for his obvious goading, not trying to give the Pro anymore reasons to be harsh with you (or even worse, give him an excuse to leave you alone and to a fate worse than his company ever would be). 

   Had tried so hard too, but the cocky villain in you could only take so much degradation before it snapped. 

   "Goddamn it, are you trying to fuck me or bore to death?" As for the slight quivering in your voice, you dearly hoped he wouldn’t pick up on it. 

   Predictably enough, that slip earned you another harsh tug from the capture weapon, your whole body pulled back until you thought you were about to be snapped. 

   "I was just about to praise you for being all sweet for me, V/N." The switch from his pet names to your alias felt like a bucket of ice being dumped on you, voice a slow drawl while he tugged once more from your bottom lip, but this time harsh enough to have you wincing. "I’m trying to teach you how to be a proper girl, so don’t make me regret it. Or would you prefer to go take a prolonged vacation in a holding cell?"

   He already knew your answer judging by the way his eyes coldly studied you, unearthing the secrets you uselessly attempted to hide with an ease that unnerved you (and, as much as you loathe to admit, fascinated you). 

   When he tugged at your mouth again, nails sinking just enough to be noticeable, you knew he was expecting a verbal answer. And a nice one, at that. 

   "Then fucking get on with it…" Words slurred at the end, caught up in the increasingly somber aura of your captor before you swallow thickly, quickly adding as an afterthought, "Please."

   At that, his scowl receded enough for some satisfaction to find its way back into his grimace.

   The more you struggled, the sweeter your surrender became.  

   "Not perfect, but better," he conceded with a thoughtful hum.

   If you had properly studied just who he was beyond his active Heroism, then you would’ve understood just how accustomed he was to insubordination. If anything, your act only served to make him feel more at home.

   You had barely any time to wonder about whatever he had planned next though, because in an instant that damned contraction of his was moving you around once more, twisting you until you were facing the brick wall of the alleyway with heaving breaths. 

   Your legs were now maneuvered until you were forced to keep them apart just a smidgen, the new inviting space between your thighs surely a most intoxicating promise for the sick man manhandling you. And your back experienced pain afterwards too, harshly pushed until you had no option but to allow yourself to be pressed against the dirty walls; As a result, you found yourself with your ass backed up and for the world to see, the frilly skirt of your dress caught somewhere between all the movements.

   Yet even being roughed up as you were, when a hand reached out to tug your ruined underwear away you couldn't help greedily rutting into it, too worried by the fire gathering in your lower belly to care about maintaining a semblance of the reluctance you would later claim to have experienced. 

   It was almost comical for the Hero to observe the pathetic image you were now serving up on an ornate platter —especially when compared to the list of deviant crimes and horrors your spreadsheet of accomplishments preached. For all intents and purposes, you really were a horrible, messed up individual…

   So it was a wonder why his mind had kept supplying him with the same descriptor ever since he first saw you, the same sweet little word that he thought might as well be written all over your skin for how accurate it described you.

   A cute little doll (soon to be his cute little doll). Despite believing himself to be a fairly responsable Hero, the man had never wanted to play with anything as much as he did with you.

   The sound of a zipper being lowered was alarmingly loud in the emptiness of your surroundings, as loud as a wail to your sensitive ears. When you squirmed below your restraints, nonetheless, you could no longer pinpoint whether it was from unadulterated fear or a sick sense of anticipation.

   How easy it had been to break you, even if you would never recognize it openly.

   "Knew you were into it, and now watch your ass trembling in excitement for me." He was chuckling again, not pretending like the cruelty coating his words had any other intention but to degrade you further. It had been just his luck, to find the one villain who just so happened to enjoy it. "I really hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I, doll?"

   When the lewd sound of one of his fists pumping his cock reached your ears, you didn’t even bother disguising the whines of complaint refusing to be contained any longer. 

   "Stop..." Words spilled from clenched teeth, growled out with an annoyance that no longer sought to defy, "Fucking..." but to demand instead, "Teasing."

   "Hmm, that’s cute. Why don’t you try begging me though?" His cadence was growing as bated as his breath, littered by intermittent curses as his eyes dined on the sight of your glistening core, held up and offered up for him to do as he pleased. "Beg for me to use you, and if you put on a good enough show I might just let you off."

   Another shiver rampaging it's way through your body, an exhilaration that could not be entirely pinpointed. 

   "Please…" You started, rough intonation dripping with venom —But Eraserhead didn't seem to mind the sardonic nature of your pleading though, not as you heard the litany of damnations being spilled from his lips. Your shameful excitement, your bitterness, your hatred… he would feast on it all and do it gladly. "Get on with it, bastard. Didn't anyone tell you never to toy with your food?"

   A low murmur was your only response at first, followed by the lewd sound of his pre-cum covered cock being harshly jerked.

   "Hmmm, aren't you being a bit too demanding…" His steps echoed again behind you, his unoccupied hand coming up to massage your ass with a rather firm grip. "Even with the begging, I don't think you've learned your place yet."

    When he planted a slap in the same place he had been eagerly caressing before, sharp and flaring up your nerves with the sting of pain and humiliation, you couldn't stop your scream from turning into a wanton little moan halfway through. 

   Even if he was hitting you, it still meant he was touching you, and so enticingly close to the place you actually needed tended to.

   "Do it…" your breathing was too heavy to speak in full fluid sentences, body flushed and mind filled with the buzzing of desire. "Do it again, fuck."

   You were still not begging him like he asked, but it seemed like your choice of words still greatly pleased him. Another slap rained on your ass, his big warm palm massaging the same reddening spot right after.

   And he kept going, the spanking echoing through your body and sending both pain and pleasured shivers up your spine—lewd sounds mixing in with the increasing pace of his other fist pumping his cock. Even without directly touching you, your pussy clenched and weeped with each firm hit. 

   "Damn, it's my first time meeting such a masochistic whore." Punctuated by his most painful slap yet, the globes of your ass left trembling and a furious shade of crimson to match his lust-filled eyes. "I can see why you've managed to stay free for so long, little villain." The debasement, paired with the pain of his firm strikes, had you moaning even louder. You couldn't even recognize your own sounds, nor the thrills you felt at this entire fucked up ordeal. "Wonder how many other Pros you showed this beautiful sight to."

   Even through the fog of sensations impeding you from being wholly coherent, though, you still couldn't help but want to set the record straight. 

   "None, fuck…" Words merging into another expectant whine when you felt his hand gripping your flesh again, only this time he was kneading you in an oddly tender way —Urging you on, fingers creeping closer to your needy hole. "I'm not… usually in the business of fucking Heroes. Shit, I hate this…" 

   But you didn’t, and when you were surprised by the warmth of his naked erection barely grazing the sensitive outer lips of your cunt, you couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped you. 

   "Goddamn, V/N, even while you're an ill-mannered brat you still manage to know just what to say." 

   And then the older man was sliding his cock in the juncture of your thighs, teasing your core by pressing against it while grunts began to escape him. You thought you could cry from having him so close yet still not where you wanted him, but then his shallow thrusts against your legs proved to be much more stimulating than you first expected. 

   The fat head of his cock even managed to somewhat stimulate your puffy clit with its movements, pushing in its direction as your essence continued to leak out and cover you both. And It was so absolutely debauched, to think a Hero was using your thighs like a fucktoy while you were tied down and unable to stop it....

   But it felt so good. Even without him actually in you, you had never been this turned on before. 

   "More… ughhh," you were now screaming with the side of your face pressed flush against the disgusting brick walls, needy sounds filling the night and making it privy to your descent into madness.

   Another thrust, this time angled just precisely enough not to caress your pleasurable areas. Punishment, you feverishly thought while you attempted to wiggle your ass, eager to force more of that delicious friction you were quickly becoming hypnotized by. 

   "Now, V/N," his gruff voice had adopted a mocking tone of reprimand as he continued to rut against the soft skin of your thighs. "Haven't I taught you anything, yet? If you want something…" The hand returned to your heated skin, digits underneath you both spreading your pussy enough for the chilly night air to send shivers straight to your core. "You gotta say please."

   And say please you did. Screamed it even, so eager for more and already far beyond feeling any embarrassment. 

   He didn't fuck you, not like you really wanted, but suddenly his thick shaft was sliding between your lips as his capture weapon aided him in angling your body just right, pulsing against your hole while he found a new rythimn. When both of his hands returned, one of them held you back to make the process even easier while the other swiftly joined his cock in tending to your eager pussy.

   So lost were you in the new raw excitement seizing you, in the knowledge of just how messed up you both were for engaging in such debauchery —so distracted that you didn't even notice the faint buzzing returning to your arms, the vibrancy of an old frequency being reactivated and allowed to encapsulate you again.

   (You didn’t notice, but fuck if it didn’t made your orgasm all the sweeter.) 

   You were cumming like that, your moans resembling squeaks, your body feeling closer to a used fucktoy than a human being. The hero kept rutting against you, the joint efforts of his cock and hand mercilessly continuing to abuse your spasming cunt while your cries filled the space with their decadence. 

   You felt dirty, guilty, maybe even a little ashamed as the orgasm briefly gave you a clarity of mind your arousal had clouded.

   And yet, despite it all, it had been the best you felt in years, possibly ever. As the Pro now tugged your hair, forcing you to wrench your neck just enough to look at him over your shoulder, you couldn't help licking your lips in expectation of what he had in store next.

   "You're gonna show me your face next time you come, little villain." He gave you just enough time to nod, eyebrows drawn as your pleasure got impossibly dragged out by the stimulation he still bathed you with. "And you're gonna keep begging me, keep showing me why you deserve to stay free, okay?"

   It was commendable, how collected he managed to sound while thrusting into your thighs like that, the sounds of skin slapping against skin driving each of his words home. 

   "Yes, fuck, whatever you want…" Despite your senses shortly coming back earlier, you were still too far gone to rethink your poor choices. You just knew you wanted more, and so you asked for it. "Just give me more, please."

   So fucking obedient. If your parents could see you know, their failure of a villain daughter being all proper and learning to beg for what she wanted? Well, perhaps saying they'd be proud was a stretch, considering you were also the one getting fucked in the middle of a filthy alley. 

   What you hadn’t expected, however, was just how well your begging would work. 

   Because the next thrust of his shaft was not between your legs, but aimed to finally breach your needy cunt instead, easily filling you up in one go with how utterly soaked in both of your juices you already were. The girth of him had you already clenching with renewed vigor, his hand stopping his assault on your clit just to give you enough time to truly savor the new intoxicating sensation.

   And when your eyes found his again, so drunk on the waves of pleasure you were that you also failed to notice the lack of scarlet coloring the orbs boring into yours, now inescapable voids of dark desire and a type of intense fixation you thought hadn't been there moments ago. 

   (Or maybe it was always there, and you had been too busy with your own turmoil to notice the clues being left by your so-called enemy).

   "Want me to stuff you properly?" His guttural question hit you at the same time as his sharp movements found your tender spot with experienced ease, walls tightening around him while your entire body struggled to continue holding yourself upright, relying more and more on the capture weapon to keep you from toppling over. 

   The binds still hurt from how tightly they wrapped around you, bruises sure to be left on their wake, but by that point you weren't so sure anymore the sting was an entirely bad thing. If anything, it just made the pleasure all the sweeter by comparison.  

   "Want me to fill you with so much cum that you reek of hero cock for the rest of the week?" He laughed while he regurgitated some of your words from earlier, the hand pressing against your lower stomach caressing you with a distinct sense of ownership as he elicited another loud moan with a sharp movement of his hips. 

   Noticing you reacting not only to his actions but to his quips, you could practically hear the self congratulatory smirk as he spoke next.

   "Bet the other villains would love knowing how much of a cockhungry whore you turned into too, doll. Talk about fraternizing with the enemy."

   And he was right, in a way. Because what would your fellow villains think, seeing you being wrecked by one of the most infamous Pros in the business, lowering yourself to pleading and screaming as he rearranged your insides. 

   Would you get called a disloyal whore or just a plain traitor? Not only would your spotless reputation and the myth you had fought to build collapse, but from its ashes your eternal shame could be erected. 

   A shame that would tower over you, looming around you while the eyes of your peers followed you everywhere. You could even picture the jests veered your way, the looks of utter disgust and ridicule...

   Somehow, the idea of anyone finding out only made your screams grow louder, impossibly more fervent. 

   "Fucking… get on with it."

   However, his rhythm was rapidly interrupted after your jab, his cock pulling out almost entirely as your core convulsed with the sudden staggering emptiness it was left to grapple with. More whimpers, struggling against the set of eternally unforgiving ties encasing your body. 

   "But you're making me do all the work, little one" Another slap shook your entire frame as it landed heavily on your still pained cheeks. You were so sore, both from the previous set of hits and from the sheer exhaustion starting to set in, muscles tight and resentful from the awkward positions your body had been manhandled into. "If you really want to continue this, how about you start doing some of the heavy lifting, uh?" Just like before, his palm started massaging the tender spot he had just smacked, fingers digging into your supple flesh being as close to comforting as the Pro seemed capable of. "Show me just how good you can be."

   And you could've argued, truly, could've even attempted to hold onto the last vestiges of your pride…

   You could’ve done a lot of things, but the truth was that when his weapon relented its hold at last, retreating from the underside of your knees and giving in just a smidge for the first time since you had been captured, you didn't waste any seconds before you were chasing after your high with renewed vigor.

   Greedily sinking into him with an obscene sigh, you audibly marveled at the curve of his member being deliciously imprinted in your insides. While you copied the cadence the Hero had previously employed, his grip on your lower belly fluttered, almost like he couldn't decide whether to take control back or allow you to humiliate yourself further with your own zealousness. 

   It seemed like the later prospect won him over in the end though, because he remained almost impassively still as you did all the work needed to bring you both deliriously close to your peaks. 

   The sight must've been spectacular, watching you, renown villain V/N, so thoroughly broken and willing to heed his every command. Impaling yourself on his cock, moaning and continuing to beg him for something you were already taking for yourself. 

   If he died right then and there, he doubted Heaven wouldn't have as much appeal as the scene still unfolding before his eyes. (But again, considering his actions, Heaven wouldn't really be the right place for either of you.)

   You were just about to reach your second orgasm, toes curling inside your shoes, fists clenched and a face that spelt poetic extasis. Angling the way you took his cock, every single movement driving him painstakingly deeper, slamming against a spot that made you imagine the stars falling from the sky all around you, their light being the one bathing you instead of the malfunctioning street lamps. 

   So goddamn close…

   Only to have him pull out again, this time completely. You were clenching against nothing, all stimulation stolen from you, and the bitterness of a ruined orgasm promptly dragged curses and complaints out of you before you could even think to stop them. 

   Eyes searched his, urgently seeking an explanation for his withdrawal only to find his glare fixated instead on that same dirty pair of stockings that had started it all. 

   Eraserhead must have taken the garment out of his pocket sometime while he fucked you, unfolding it from its scrunched up state until the crotch was visibly presented for both of you to admire, dark sheer fabric still stained from a mix of your arousal and spit. 

   When the Pro looked at you again, a beautifully dark smile topped his attractive face. He looked painfully content, the way he studied your own mortified expression reminding you of an artist studying his masterwork. 

   "Only the truly obedient ones get their cunts filled." You noticed then how his other hand was jerking him off again, erection rubbing against the nylon undergarments in a most obscene depiction. Too bad you were too frustrated to appreciate any of it. "I don't think you've… hell, you haven't earned it yet, V/N."

    You didn't even notice you were tearing up from the annoyance until it was too late. And maybe that was what finally did it, seeing you actually crying at his refusal to breed you like the slut you both knew you were, writhing in exaggerated despair as you found yourself feeling jealous of a stupid pair of tights, because not long after your pathetic reaction the man was letting out a pained groan of his own and spilling himself all over the damned garment. 

   But instead of rubbing your wailing in your face after he came down from his own delicious high, last few spurts of cum slowing down to a halt, you were surprised instead by the weapon that had been binding you for the longest time finally retreating.

   As expected, you unceremoniously collapsed to the floor, feet now unprepared for supporting your weight and your entire being wholly exhausted after enduring the roughest fuck you had ever experienced. It hurt all over, although you weren't sure whether your still present longing wasn't what pained you the most. 

   When you looked up to the Pro again, trying to find an answer to the new freedom you were experiencing, you were surprised by having the cum-dripped stockings thrown in your face. 

   And quite literally so, the still wet seed dribbling down your cheek and into your trembling lips, all before you collected enough wits to grab the offending item and pull it down with an expression of unadulterated disgust. 

   "Sorry, doll, but you were pouting so irresistibly," The Eraser user actually laughed, this time the sound coming with an untroubled merriment you did not think he was capable of.

   He actually looked worn out while he tucked himself back into his costume, accommodating the pieces of clothing until all hints from your ravenous affair disappeared. The bandages were wrapping themselves around his neck once more, looking more like an extravagant scarf than the most precise set of inmovilazing gear you had ever endured. 

   However, something about his attitude had you forgetting all about his newest slight, much too worried by a new cause of worry. 

   "Hold on..."

   Eraserhead looked down at you from his place after you raised your voice, urging you to continue as he finished getting himself presentable. The air of nonchalance around him was almost more intimidating than any of the actual threats or vulgar comments he had voiced prior. Almost.

   "Are you…" you swallowed the sudden lump in your throat, voice still raspy and hoarse after what had just transpired. "Are you really letting me go?"

   The man just raised one of his eyebrows at that, eyes crinkling for the first time and looking strangely amused. 

   "Doll, I stopped exerting my quirk on you while I was still teasing you good and proper," he declared bluntly. When his orbs glimmered again, you now felt like an imbecile as you finally realized they had completely lost the reddish hue to them. "So you know what? I thought you deserved to get an out of jail free card for behaving yourself… even if you still need to work some more on your manners."

   To call your shocked expression dumbfounded would be a disservice. 

   When his now bottomless eyes bore into yours for one final time, all you could do was stare back in dazzled shock. Your quirk was back, the Pro himself had just confirmed it, and yet you were still nailed to the spot, still anticipating his next words without even thinking of attacking him in the meantime.

   One little tumble and you were already his brightest pupil yet. He was now so glad to have waited that long, it only made the outcome all the more fulfilling. 

   "You don’t need to be so surprised, Y/N, we'll be seeing each other soon,” He kneeled in front of you for an instant, both hands reaching out to hold up your face in a gesture more resembling a lover than… well, whatever the hell you two were. So entranced you were then, that the use of your real name barely even registered. “It’s been difficult to keep you away from trouble thus far,” his acknowledgment reverberated in the alley, its meaning something else lost to you as you couldn’t help but become entranced by the new peculiar softness he addressed you with, “but getting you like this now, seeing you break so easily… fuck, I’ll mold you right back up, doll, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

   And just then, for the first time you realized, the Hero’s lips were brushing against yours gently, uncharacteristically careful as he kissed you slowly. Even his hands were tender while they guided you, treating you as if you truly were a doll that could just be snapped with a mere wrong movement. As if he hadn’t just been treating you like a dirty hole for him to use and abuse just short instants ago. 

   But at least he did not seem to care about the mess that was your face at the moment, about the cum stains or the still damp trails of tears. And, for whatever reason, you found yourself returning the gesture in kind, melting into the oddly affectionate touch of a man you were still halfway sure you loathed. 

   Even after he left you, alone and a mess still toppled over on the floor with the shadow of humiliation cloaking your shoulders, your fingers couldn’t help but touch your lips with a bizarre mixture of bewilderment and horror.

   He told me I would see him soon, your mind supplied as you found yourself irreparably fixating your stare on the pair of now completely ruined tights you were still holding onto. The fact that you felt any type of excitement about the notion did not fail to mortify you. 

   God, even for villain standards you were fucked. 

But it was okay, because misery loved company and, with time at his disposal and the right amount of coaching, Shouta was sure he could teach you to properly crave his soon enough.

— — — 

And, 8k of foul smut later, if y’all read through that whole thing... drop by my ask to recieve your congratulatory gold stars! ⭐ (jk but I do appreciate hearing y’alls thoughts, it’s what keeps me halfway productive 🖤)

Last but not least, very special thanks to my best pals @reinawritesbnha​, @snappysnapo​ and @drxwsyni​ (who actually proof read this and helped me out immensely with her Big Brain Feedback. A TALENTED ANGEL). 

[kittydripuwu]

Hello, I'm the anon that requested the Dazai being kidnapped scenario and I didn't see it on your pinned post anymore. May I ask what happened to it / if I did anything wrong?

hi sorry omg, i posted it earlier but tumblr was acting up and i had to take it down and forgot to repost it! here u go :>

req - Can I request some angst to fluff where Dazai purposefully puts himself in a dangerous position and everyone thinks that he's dead so a usually stoic reader goes on a rampage in their grief on the organization that supposedly killed him during an agency raid but then finds out that he's alive? And reader hasn't confessed their feelings yet?

never again | dazai x reader

words - 1951

warnings - swearing, angst

genre - angst/fluff?

note - this is so poorly written im sorry my ideas were ALL over the place :’)

the long period of time in which the agency had upheld peace and quiet with all of the known criminal organizations in yokohama, had come to an end. the port mafia and the agency had started to notice odd and quite brutal murders around the city. at first, the agency thought it was the mafia going on a killing rampage, only to notice the method used to assasinate was quite different from the mafia's. whoever it was, they killed brutally, leaving an X cut into their victims throats. they were a bloodthirsty bunch and all they were here for was to kill and take over any other gifted organizations.

the agency had already dealt with a few attacks, but none with other ability users making it easy to fight them. everyone from this unknown organization seemed to dress in all black and wear sunglasses to cover their mysterious identities. when taken hostage, they wouldnt speak, no matter what was done to them, it was an impossible case.

you had been calm throughout everything the agency went through in the last few weeks, knowing that you and your fellow agency members knew how to fight well and deal with these kinds of situations. it was all peaceful and quiet that day when you were sitting in the office doing some work until, the agency building was yet again attacked. an ability user with an inferno ability, able to burn anything down to ash. they did not seem to seek destruction of the city but rather, the people in it. it was a difficult fight but you and your colleauges were able to get through it as always.

after this, the president of the armed detective agency declared it a case to find out more and stop this organization, but urged everyone to do it at a distance.

"whatever you do, do not go near anybody from this unknown group of people. they seem to seek bloodthirst, and will kill everyone in their path" he said during a meeting that occured that same day. you knew this wasn't going to be easy but you were going to try to do as much as you can to help.

it was getting pretty late and you had just finally finished some work, standing up and heading out the door to head home. you walked the streets cautiously, knowing that at this point in time, the city wasn't particularly safe. you ended up getting home with no troubles, and instanly falling asleep after a long and tiring day. meanwhile, there was still one person in the agency who was awake during the long hours of the night, and that was dazai osamu. despite what he was told by the president, he had his own plans for how he was going to find out information. he knew this could easily get him killed and he knew this was dangerous but it was the only way he could think of.

dazai's plan didn't seem all that bad to him, he was simply going to find one of them roaming the streets, disarm them and question them. he was aimlessly roaming the streets at night in search of one of the people dressed in black, with nothing on him but a loaded gun. he didn't really know why he chose such a dangerous plan, he knew there was a high chance that he could be killed but all of that didn't matter to him now. he, who had been concealing his emotions for too long, feeling empty and inhuman on this planet, felt somewhat at peace when coming this close to death. he kept trying to tell himself that if he died helping the agency, helping you, maybe everything would have been worth it after all, maybe the pain and suffering was worth something, maybe it would mean that he was finally a good person.

but no, none of these invasive thoughts were true, for when he ran into one of the unknown men dressed in black, he had broken a promise he made long ago to a dear friend.

he stood above the man who was on the ground now, disarmed. this man was unlike the others, he spoke. maybe it was dazai's forceful interrogation methods, or maybe it was just another man surrendering. he told dazai about the organization's intentions, where their base was and all about their powerful ability users. he told him that the only way to get rid of them, was to kill them all. they were a group of soulless men, wanting nothing more but to kill and take over yokohama.

"kill me" he pleaded after speaking to him about the organization.

"please kill me"

"why do you wish to die?" dazai asked him.

"there is no place for me in this world" he said simply.

this sparked something in dazai, he understood suffering very well and he could tell by this man's voice that he was in pain, and like dazai, he desired nothing more but to get a taste of sweet death.

"i'm sorry oda" he whispered to himself before shooting the man a few times.

after this, he continued to wander the empty streets, realising that the only way to fight them was going against agency rules. but he thought if he was able to do this on his own, maybe he could keep you and everyone at the agency, safe. he managed to reach the base of the place, and seeing no one around to gaurd it, he simply walked in. he managed to sneak through to what looked like a computer room. there were plenty of computers and different kinds of technology, but none of that mattered when he saw a usb on one of the desks in the room. he was quick to slip it into his pocket right before three men appeared in the doorway.

there was something different about these men, they didn't instantly shoot, but rather took him as a hostage. these men spoke aswell, they told him that they wouldn't kill him yet, but rather wanted to find out more about the other organizations in yokohama. they said they had questioned multiple people already, who gave them nothing of use and were brutally murdered. he was handcuffed and left to sit in this room until dawn.

you woke up feeling pretty sore and tired from all the events of the day before. after getting ready, you took your regular route to the agency with caution, ready to attack if need be. when you arrived at the office, you were informed that dazai never came back to the agency dorm that night, and that he had gone missing. normally, everyone including you would treat this as just dazai being dazai, but with the current state of the city, everyone began to panic. there was a meeting to discuss the next plan of action after multiple phone calls to him, resulting in no reply.

"dazai would never do this in such a situation"

"he wouldn't disrespect the presidents order's like this"

"not in a situation like this for sure"

"i agree, he may be reckless but not so much to go this far"

you sat through the meeting, mind filled with worry as you listened to what everyone was saying. you've always gotten along very well with dazai, and always found him to be a very interesting person. you hated to admit it but, you liked him, alot. you were too shy to confess to him for the longest time but you had promised yourself to finally do it after all of this was finally over.

"could he be dead?"

"ranpo help us out here"

"no can do, all i know is that he's most likely at thier base"

after being so caught up in your own thoughts, this managed to snap you back into reality. dazai osamu. dazai osamu was dead? no, you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn't even consider that but the thought kept coming back to haunt you.

"everyone search for him" said the president as he dismissed everyone.

you and your fellow agency memebers spent the day looking for dazai. you looked in all the spots you knew he could be, but he was nowhere to be found, and his phone going straight to voicemail when called.

if he didn't show up the next morning, everyone would presume him as dead. you couldn't sleep that night, your thoughts draining you with worry and sorrow.

the next morning, dazai was still gone. everyone was worried and discussing what to do, when you simply stormed out of the meeting room, running out of the building.

"i'll kill them all i swear i'll kill every last one of them" you muttered to yourself as you ran down the streets, looking out for anyone who was wearing black. your thoughts were now clouded with fear, worry and rage as you desperatley searched the streets for someone to give you information. no one seemed to reveal anything, no one spoke, not a single one of them. you had no choice but to hurt them and even kill a few in order to get something. one of them managed to croak out an adress as you repeatedly kicked them while holding a gun to their head. luckily, you hadn't encountered any ability users, only weak men who were too easy to disarm.

"what did you say?" you asked the man.

"o-our base" he replied, in between coughs.

within a minute, you were out of the alleyway, back on the street and heading to the given address. you swore to yourself that you would make sure anyone who hurt dazai would be dead.

lost in your thoughts, you weren't paying attention to where you were going when you bumped into someone. you looked up, only to see a familiar face.

"y/n?"

you began to cry. dazai was standing right infront of you, looking down at you in confusion.

"what the fuck is wrong with you" you said between sobs, throwing your arms around him.

"what??" he replied, hugging you back.

"everyone thought you were dead" you said as you cried into his shoulder.

"i was only gone for 2 days" he replied, rubbing your back gently to calm you down.

"where the fuck were you?" you asked after a few minutes of silence, pulling out of the hug.

"i got myself caught by the organization to find out information"

"why would you do that"

"because that was the only way" he replied, with no emotion in his voice.

"please don't ever do that to me again" you said as you looked down while you two began to walk back to the agency.

dazai knew how you felt about him, despite the fact that you haven't confessed. he felt the same way but he wasn't going to tell you that, he was going to wait for you to do it.

he stopped in his tracks suddeny and turned you around, pulling you into his arms, and hugging you tightly.

"never again" he said, as you gladly accepted the hug.

he wanted to make sure you knew that he cared about you. he wasn't very expressive of it, but he told himself he would do anything to protect you and the agency, no matter what it took.

you two then returned to the agency, where everyone began to yell at dazai but also praise him for the information he was able to get. they knew exactly how many of them there were, the abilities they had, and how to properly deal with them. thanks to him, the agency was once again able to save the city.

[golden-kettle]

No Place For Love (Mista x GN!Reader)

Guido Mista x GN!Reader - CHAPTER ONE

TW// Strong language, slight violence

You’ve dedicated the beginning of your young adult years to Passione and La Squadra. You weren’t about to choose the enemy over the opportunity to finally get the pay you and your teammates deserved. Right?

Word count: 1,888

It’s been a hot minute since I posted something, so here’s the new project I’m working on! An enemies to lovers story with Mista :) I’m going to try and update as much as I can as I’ve been thinking about something like this for a while. hope you enjoy the first chapter 💕💕 Trusting anyone outside of your gang is a death wish. There's no room for love in the mafia of Passione. You knew this better than anyone else. Sure, you aren't the same as you were years ago. Naïve and inexperienced. However, would you be willing to throw it all away, the blood you've shed and the strength you've gained, for a singular person? That was the very question Risotto asked you when you returned from an incomplete mission, slightly injured.

"I shouldn't have to say what we all know, but this goal is what we live for," he said.

The goal he was referring to was that of taking over the drug routes of Passione, defeating the mysterious boss in the process. It was something you found was impossible, until Risotto told you and the other members of La Squadra that the boss had a daughter. And that daughter, Trish Una, was under the protection of  Bruno Bucciarati and his squad members.

You were told to go and find their current location in Italy as if it was the last thing you'd do. You'd then place a tracking device on one of the members and leave as quickly as possible. Simple, especially for the traits and powers of your stand. So why were you sitting here in front of Risotto with the tracking device in the palm of your hand?

"You need to go back there."

You looked up at him with guilt in your eyes, a silent plea to let you at least spend the night at the base then try again tomorrow morning. Risotto understood right away, observant as he is. With a sigh, he spoke in a low whisper.

"You know that if I let you stay here any longer, the others will say I play favorites. Get going."

You stood up and brushed off your clothes, walking to the door to exit Risottos office. Putting your hand on the knob, you froze without turning your head.

"Risotto, I have one request."

He didn't say anything in response, keeping quiet. Although you knew he was listening.

"If I can't carry out this mission in 48 hours, call me a fool."

With that you left the room, swiftly exiting the base and paying no mind when Formaggio attempted to spark conversation. Deep in your gut, you knew Risotto had no clue as to why you took the time to say such things, but you did. Because before you failed at completing this mission, you ran into someone you've only seen in a photo on an information sheet. Guido Mista, age 18. Stand name: Sex Pistols. 

The first time you saw him you intended on putting the tracking device on him. You would knock him out once he was alone, put the small device between the grooves on the bottom of his shoe. Then leave as if you were never there. Obviously, fate had other plans.

He was standing in line at a café, a small list in his hands. Presumably, what the rest of his squad wanted, you thought. When he finished ordering the list of pastries and drinks, he glanced over his shoulder to you. His eyes widened for a second until the cashier told him his total. 

"Ah, yeah, let me get that."

You watched as Mista shuffled through his pocket, pulling out money to pay. 

"I'll be paying for their meal too," he said as he gestured to you.

"Oh, that won't be needed sir," you said with a smile

.He returned your smile with one of his own, "what do you want?"

Is he trying to flirt with me? You thought before telling the cashier your drink order. Mista then paid for his and your order, walking over to a table to sit while he waited. You did the same until he waved you over. What's the harm in sitting with him while you waited? Perhaps you could get something out of him.

"So what's your name?" he asked, practically beaming when you sat down across from him. 

You answered truthfully, there was no way for him to have any information on you. A staple of being on the hitman team is being anonymous, so there was no background on you. If you were to die, the only way you would live on was through the memories of your teammates. 

"Ah, well my name's Mista, I haven't seen you around before, although you look Italian. You from the south or somethin'?"

"No, I'm from around here. I probably just got lost in the crowd. Or you aren't that observant." 

Thinking that you might as well play along, you didn't feel guilty in teasing him a little bit. In fact, he seemed to enjoy your banter.

"Oh, I am insanely observant. Like for example, you have a stain on your shirt right there," he reached over and pointed. 

When you looked down, he raised his finger and flicked your nose. You couldn't even be mad at his kindergarten teasing. You crossed your arms as he leaned back and laughed.

"Haha. Very funny," you said with a smile, "but are you willing to tell me a bit about yourself, Mista? I will say it's not every day I get someone to pay for my order."

"Sure can do, what are you dying to know?"

"Why did you decide to pay for my drink?" You knew you should ease into the questions so you could get something notable out of him.

"Isn't it obvious? I think you're cute."

You laughed softly at the statement, "you're right, I guess that's self-explanatory isn't it?"

Mista hummed, "my turn to ask you a question. What do you think of me?" he grinned, putting his chin between his forefinger and thumb.

You took a moment to think. No way in hell you were about to boost his ego more than it seemed to already be, but you weren't about to be flat at rude instead.

"I think you're generous, yet insane to be wearing a hat and knitted shirt in the Italian spring sun," you spoke out of a light laugh.

"That's fair."

You smiled, leaning against the table and rubbing the back of your neck. You turned your head to avoid his gaze, acting shy, as you spoke your next question.

"You have plans after this? I know you probably ordered for a group of people.. but maybe we can make a detour at my place?" you glance back at him with an innocent smile on your face.

"Well... I do have plans after this, but I'm sure they can wait. I want to get to know you after all."

How gullible can he be? Isn't he a gunman in the most notable mafia present in Italy right now? No matter the case, you just found an easy opening. This mission would be completed earlier than you thought.

After some small talk and retrieving your order, you lead Mista down the street and into an alleyway.

"My apartment is just on the left side once we get through here," you smiled, "but you won't be seeing it."

Mista glanced back to you, confused by the last few words of your statement. With that, you used your stand to push him to the ground, knocking the bag of pastries and cardboard holder with the drinks out of his hands. You watched as he reached for what you assumed was a gun in his boot, but straddled over him and pinned his hands above his head.

"Fucking hell, how are you so strong? What do you even want from me?"

"I want you to shut up and sleep," you spoke with a total shift in tone and attitude.

He grinned to your surprise, then in a flash he wrapped his leg around yours and flipped you over. Now he was pinning you down. He grabbed his gun and let go of your hands, pressing the gun against your forehead. 

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded."

I told you my name, Mista. Don't have me repeat myself."

He pressed the gun harder against your head, but your face remained neutral and unbothered.

"You're part of a gang, aren't you? What are you after from Passione? Or are you after us specifically?"

"Don't you think there's no point in asking me questions if I'm not going to answer them?"

Mista moved his gun in a flash, firing a bullet into the ground beside you. He then pressed its barrel against your forehead once more.

"I'm not messing around."

”You were a few minutes ago. Honestly, it seemed like you were so sure you were gonna get a kiss from me. Maybe more. Just how down bad are you, Mista?"

"Stop saying my name as if you know me."

"But I do know you, dear. That new capo, Bucciarati. He broke you out of jail and you joined his squad. The name of your stand is Sex Pistols, truly fitting for a man like yourself."

With that, he slapped you across the face. You froze for a second before speaking again.

"..Did you just slap me?" You spoke in a tone of utter shock.

"Want me to do it again, “dear”?"

"What are you, a sadist?"

"What are you, a masochist?" He replied, clearly mocking you.

This wasn't going to get you anywhere.

"I'm sick of this," you said, manifesting your stand behind him.

Your stand then put its arms around Mista's waist and pulled him off of you. You stood up and ran back to the crowded streets of the town, taking the shock he had of you being a stand user for granted. Once Mista gained his senses, he started to chase after you. However, it was a lost cause. You were already lost within the people. 

It wasn't until you were running for a half-hour that you realized you didn't complete your mission. Risotto was bound to be pissed at you. Hell, you were pissed at yourself. You had no clue what came over you.

"What was I thinking?" you said to yourself.

You could've had your stand knock him out while he had you pinned down. In fact, that was the plan when you walked him into that alley. 

He's attractive. That's why you didn't hurt him. You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, that was the only reason that made sense.

"God damn him."

As you walked back to your base you thought about what you'd say to Risotto. Maybe you could convince him to let you spend the rest of the day rethinking a new plan and get some sleep before acting on it tomorrow morning. Instead, you ended up saying nothing and let him scold you.

Now you were here, outside the base and walking back to the busy city Naples. Thoughts going at a hundred miles an hour, you knew Mista probably returned back to wherever the rest of his gang was. No way you could take them all at once. 

You told Risotto to call you a fool if you failed to carry out the mission because that's exactly what you'd be. You thought about his question. Would you be willing to throw away everything you've built for only one person?

Only a fool in love would do that.

[stayndays]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 & 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃

time to dive into this hellhole of a series once again

if you haven’t read killer king, there are MAJOR spoilers in this post! you have been warned.

So! This was highly requested in the final survey of Killer King: to reveal the other routes if you didn’t choose the Escape Route. To start off, though, I first have to talk about something that was brought up multiple times throughout the voting boxes of Killer King, which is:

“Why is Jisung helping Minho/Is Jisung aware that Minho’s the killer/What is Jisung and Minho’s dynamic?”

Minho and Jisung, to say the least, is probably the most interesting duo in the series. They didn’t met before the party, but rather, at the party before the mansion owner was killed, and quickly formed a strong bond. You could infer that Minho wanted to pull in a party guest that would most likely stay and solve the murder, just so he has a puppet to control if things go haywire. Minho was also inspired by Jisung’s poem, which results in how his killing techniques were put into place. 

Because Jisung is kind of naive in this story, he ends up being manipulated by the killer himself, and accidentally becomes Minho’s #1 ally for the entire series. Minho grabbed the key from the mansion owner’s coat, and gave it to Jisung for him to protect, saying something along the lines of “If anybody tries to flee the mansion like a coward, they won’t be able to because you have the key.” 

Oh, also, Minho attempted to frame Jisung by leaving the white glove in Jisung’s bag. I’m like.. slowly recovering info from this series because I already forgot most of the plot.. October was a fever dream guys wheeze

But now, this duo leads us to our first route I’ll cover today! The duos all have a certain goal: Hyunin wanted to escape, another group wanted to kill the killer themselves, and another group simply wanted to solve the murder. This duo is different, however, because Minho is literally the killer. 

So the route would’ve played out somewhat like this:

You choose to align with Minho and Jisung, regardless of whether you lie or not

When the house fight occurs and everybody is split off into groups, you have the option to stay with Chan, Changbin, and Minho. If you choose this, you would get an additional chapter where you have the decision to come with Minho upstairs, or to stay behind with Chan and Changbin.

If you choose to come with Minho, you would be forced by him to throw a knife at Jeongin, who’s alone on the stairs. (this would’ve been REALLY fun to write)

Even if you chose not to follow Minho, as long as you prove that you’re truly loyal to him, he’ll eventually reveal to both you and Jisung that he’s the killer, and urge the both of you to work with him to eliminate the rest of the house members.

THIS IS THE FUN PART

Basically: Jisung doesn’t want to team up with Minho. Instead, he wants to try and kill Minho (I assume that Jisung has multiple reasons as to why he doesn’t want to tell the other members, probably because he has no evidence). As a result, since Jisung also trusts you, he tells you his plan, and now you have to choose between the two.

And according to my notes, no matter if you team up with Jisung or go solo, if you choose to betray Minho, you will die. It is impossible to succeed in this scenario. You have to team up with a murderer in order to win.

You could also try and convince Jisung to come with you and Minho’s side. Knowing me, I’d probably spin a wheel to see whether Jisung would agree with you or not LOL. If he doesn’t though, he’s gonna die. That’s that. 

So if you team up with Minho (regardless if Jisung is still alive or not) and the two/three of you are able to successfully eliminate the rest of the members, you win! And you get the ending “The Killer’s Sidekick” (even better: if you identity as a female and/or use she/her pronouns, you could be “The Killer Queen” :D)

The other two routes don’t have nearly as much info as Minsung’s route, though. One of them wasn’t even planned at all. Let’s talk about them!

Changlix’s Route: Kill the Killer

Basically, if you openly state to either Felix or Changbin that you’re also interested in killing the killer, you’d be put into this route!

In this route, you’ll tend to make more impulsive decisions without thinking straight (aka your choices will be pretty dumb) because you’re after blood, not justice.

If you kill the wrong person, that’s an automatic game over.

If you hesitate to kill Minho, he’ll kill you first, and that’s a game over.

And if you successfully kill Minho, you’ll get one of those “You won.. but at what cost?” endings, kinda like the ending you guys got! (it’s because you killed somebody, that’s why.)

Chanmin’s Route: Catch the Killer

I have nothing written down for this route. It’s pretty self explanatory. Find the killer, and trap him in a room until the police come. That’s pretty much the route, along with trying not to get killed yourself.

If you chose this route, it would probably be even more stressful than the escape route, and would probably be the most boring route to write.

If you have any questions, let me know! But now let’s dive into the questions you guys put in for the survey.

1. Was Hyunjin super suspicious in the beginning as a red herring?

I think they were all super suspicious in the beginning just so the reader jumps into the story completely blind. It wasn’t intended as a red herring, but it definitely could be to you!

2. Why does Felix and Changbin want to kill the murderer? 

Simple: bloodlust. I just needed that violent duo, y’know? 

3. Were Jisung and Minho conspiring together? If not, was Minho going to pin it on Jisung?

No and yes, that was his intention!

4. Why does Minho have a hankering for murder?

He wants revenge on his step father, the mansion owner, for neglecting him all those years. Also the dude has anger issues. Bad temper.

5. Why could Minho pass the mattress but not 5 guys?

He is immortal. He is god. He is- just kidding. He was probably doing something stupid and unplanned, like using the bathroom on the downstairs floor. That’s the best answer I can give you for now.

6. Why did Jisung decided to team up with Minho? I mean what benefit will he get from it if there is a chance Minho might even kill him too? and also did Jisung know that Minho is the killer king in the first place?

He didn’t realize he was teaming up with the killer, and if Minho did reveal that he was the killer, Jisung would most likely try to turn on him (and fail). Nope!

7. What was Minho's motive (was it just him hating the victim or was there something deeper)?

Both that, and probably bloodlust as well.

8. How did Minho get the white glove to blame Jisung later when he wasn't with us while we were searching the room?

He bought a fresh pair of white gloves before the party started. He also, most likely, placed it in Jisung’s bag before committing the murder without him noticing.

9. If we were to just body search everybody at once, would we find the throwing knives on Minho and just end the whole thing? (this was on my mind the whole time lmao, like why didn't we search OURSELVES too??)

yeah true ngl i can’t argue with that Knowing Minho, he probably has a bunch of knives hidden all around the house, secretly planting them here and there while mingling with party guests.

10. Were really 2 killer kings? 

Nope! Only Minho. There would only be more than one killer king if you ended up choosing the Minsung route. However, good idea! I should’ve thought of that.

11. Why in the hell was jisung helping minho like how did they end up as a team?

e x p l a i n e d  a l r e a d y. see i told you guys a lot of people were asking this

12. I still don't understand changbins fascination with the blood type.

This was an easter egg I was proud of but nobody caught!! The same blood type mentioned by Changbin (I think it was A?) is the same type Seungmin has! After a google search or two, I learned that blood types were passed down by family members, so if you arrange Seungmin’s family tree correctly, you’d learn that him and the mansion owner shared the same blood type, meaning that Seungmin is related to the mansion owner. Far stretch, I know, but I think it works out! If you figured this out, you would realize how smart Changbin really is as a scientist.

13. Why did jeongin light two matches?

Extra precaution! Also, he’s the youngest. He thinks fire is cool.

14. Was Minsung a team for the ~ Minsung Vibes? ~

It was not intentional at first, but then I realized the rest of the duos were popular ships in SKZ (minus Chanmin) so that was interesting!

15. Just in general why were the teams aligned the way they were?

Minsung - They’re good pals Changlix - For the bloodlust similarity Hyunin - They were both emotional enough in this story to want to escape Chanmin - It’s literally Chan and Seungmin, and Seungmin is close with the mansion owner

16. Which one was your favorite route?

MINSUNG’S ROUTE!! I wanted you guys to choose this one because it would so different from other murder mysteries!! But the escape route was my second choice, thank god.

17. Will you be doing another series similar to this next year?

90% no because of how physically and mentally draining this series was to write, but you can get a sequel if the finale somehow gets 50 notes! That won’t happen for a while. Just FYI. 

18. Did the knife in y/n’s hand ever come out or was it just stuck in there the entire time?

It was there the entire time until Hyunjin pulled it out at his house. I actually still don’t know if this is medically accurate or not, I literally had to ask my mom what to do in this situation. Our text messages went something like:

Me: If a knife goes through your hand, should you pull it out or leave it in? Asking because of a TV show  Mom: Leave it in and go to the hospital... Me: Ok thanks mom

I think that’s it? I still have a lot I want to talk about, but that information will only come out if people ask me! So come ask me hehe have fun. Thank you, so incredibly much, for following Killer King. It is my pride and joy, literally.

taglist: @desertofdessert @crscendoforsung @cotccotc @leggomylino @skzctnightnight @freckledberries @nizhonimoon @hanniiesuckle17 @binniesbabybear @tsuki-moons @lbxgsunshine @csbverse @mangoisawesome @peachyhan @worldtriiiip @golden–rain @bubblyjisunq @kimpchi @loey-letters @pokyloky @wherevermyway @avrea-tt @bossuns @sunoo-luvs @katherineee19 @ph0ebevix @qt-k1mb @444scb @grandmasterslickfox @k-pop-valda (now we can all abandon this series for good!)

[askdawnandvern]

WT: Well if we are going to go that far, literally anything could and has happened in terms of Dark AUs, but if you want my like...spin on some concepts, I can throw out some hypotheticals.

In terms of going full on dark outcomes, I feel like I would always have the worst timelines end by tragically blowing up in the schemers faces. Realistically, I feel that in every case, whether it was Dawn or Aster at the helm, it would catch up to them at some point, or backfire in a spectacularly unforeseen way.

Starting with Aster, let's say his plan hadn't been stopped. Instead of an exciting chase sequence where Vernon absconds with Dawn, the wolf takes the a different route, demanding to be taken into custody alongside Dawn. While they don't arrest him, the group of them go down to the station where it is impossible for them to intercepted by Aster's goons. However, Judy's fixation on Dawn and her presumed guilt wastes precious time cracking just what is actually being planned and who is planning it, and though they make enough progress to figure out what is coming and dispatch the ZPD to stop as many tankers as they can, a few get through and there are some casualties and serious injuries. Aster and his cronies are caught, but with more of a mess to clean up in the wake of the worst terrorist attack in Zootopian history, many more of the co-conspirators are able to flee or cover their tracks behind the veil of confusion and misery, and it takes Judy and Nick years to finally pin down every mammal involved.

Taking it to a worse degree, lets say Aster is completely successful. The kidnapping still happens and instead of using night-howler to deal with Dawn, Vern Judy and Nick, he simply elects to shoot them all. With no one else as close to the case as Nick and Judy were, there is no mammal to stop Aster and his goons. The districts are flooded in night-howler, and the city begins tearing itself apart. The unexpected turn of course is that the Night Howler doesn't kill everyone. Of course there are those mammals who escape the gassing, but they different methods of dispersal and the way it is diluted lead to a bulk of the mammals hit with it coming down with mild poisoning, (basically what we say in Dawn's original plot). Doug had made an incorrect calculation. Thus, while he, Aster and the others attempt to flee the city they are caught by a mob of savage mammals and meet a brutal end. Of course, with so few animals dead it's just a matter of catching them and giving them the antidote. And with many of them to act as witnesses, having seen what Aster's henchrams attempted to do first hoof, well, his efforts to hide his tracks would have quickly crumbled. It would take years after that to repair the city, and flush various water reservoirs and other areas where the diluted poison had pooled, and just as long to sniff out all the co-conspirators, but sadly many of them would have escaped.

With Dawn's death, as well as Nick and Judy's, public consensus would have settled on the idea that she must have had something to do with the plot, and that perhaps she had killed Nick and Judy as a final act of revenge, despite the lack of evidence and what little was found of their remains. As for the Hunter's, not only was there a good chance that Dorian, and Zach would have met grizzly ends at the paws of their co-workers,  but there's a good chance Wade would have also died in the chaos of trying to contend with a savage tundra town. And of course there would still be the mystery of just how Vernon died, and why what little of his remains were found alongside Dawn, Nick and Judy's.

Finally, rolling back further we have Dawn's original plot, and three different outcomes there. First is the less brutal outcome. Dawn notices the blueberries, and swaps them back out with night howler, tagging Nick and waiting for the chomp. But much to Dawn's complete shock, instead of pouncing on Judy, Nick coils around her protectively. This causes Dawn to completely snap, the madness and irritation reaching a boiling point as she begins to berate the fox, calling him a dumb pred, and lamenting that he can't even hunt right. This backfires horribly, with Nick making a surprisingly spry leap out of the pit and mauling Dawn to death.

Alternate path two, well that diverts from the Nick getting dosed with night howler point. Only this time, Nick does what was intended and violently mauls Judy. Unlike before though, Dawn's psyche breaks in an entirely different way. At this point the ewe had been running on Adrenalin and the fear of getting caught. But now, seeing a mammal she once saw as a friend be brutally murdered in front of her, and because of her, Dawn is immediately regretful and traumatized. The ZPD bursts in and shoots Nick with live ammunition hoping they can save Officer Hopps if the acted quickly enough, but it's too late. As for Dawn, she is too shocked to even speak, the ewe left mute as she stares back into the lifeless eyes of her once friend.

I've vaguely talked about the idea behind this before, a now remorseful and guilt ridden Dawn growing into a rapidly weak link in the entire operation from this point forward. Eventually the ewe makes the mistake of admitting to Doug that she intends to come clean and turn herself in, and this forces Doug's hoof to eliminate her. Naturally, this is done by staging a savage attack, and Dawn ironically meets her end the same way she had damned Judy to.

I guess the last one would be, for the sake of argument rolling it back enough to the point where Judy made the connection to the 'Night Howler' flower and simply nixing that whole realization entirely. Judy lives out the rest of her life in Bunny Burrow, memories of the case fading to the point when Night Howler finally comes up in discussion, she is no longer capable of making the connection. Meanwhile, in Zootopia the city plunges into chaos. After Gazelle is mauled at her peace concert by her own dancers, Zootopia becomes increasingly totalitarian. Nick and Finnick flee, as well as many other predators before Dawn announces the construction of a predator only zone called 'Happy Town” (Code named: Savage City). Predators that insist on staying in Zootopia are forced into the district, and eventually access to the outside districts is limited and suspended to all Happy Town residents. Eventually election privileges are suspended as well, until 'peacetime' returns to Zootopia, which of course never occurs as the increasingly mad Dawn begins planning creating new districts to further segregate the more dangerous populations in Zootopia. First the Mega-fauna for being to large and dangerous to more average sized mammals, then the Micro-fauna for 'their own protection' and so on until the City is split into a multitude of micro districts for a variety of other mammals, and the older, largely districts are left exclusively to caprid folks.

Of course, it was easy to keep the predators in check when it was only them Dawn had to worry about. Predators were outnumbered by prey by nine to one. But locking down pretty much every other mammal species aside from caprids created a massively growing tide of dissent and unrest, which would eventually lead to a full scale city wide riot. A riot that Dawn would be unable to contend with despite her best efforts. In this scenario Dawn would meet her fate at the end of an angry mob, made of both predator and prey, and united by their mutual hatred of one Dawn Bellwether.

So there's a heavy look into some dark AU's for you. I hope you like it, cause that went on way longer than initially intended.

[zensbae]

Finding your feet again.. {Zen x mc}

Part II of "The Penthouse"

Takes place in Jumin's route, so spoilers, sweetie~

Teen - Swearing

2090-ish Words

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, mental health

~{This is my headcanon "bad-story ending" for Jumin's route, where you {the mc} leave the penthouse with Zen}~

~*~*~*~ Jumin's side of things ~*~*~*~

Entering the lobby of his apartment building, jumin feels on edge. Why is mc ignoring his texts? Deciding to dial her, the director steps straight onto the elevator, his back to the lobby, as he presses the button and begins his ascent to the top floor.

No answer, voicemail. This is unlike mc to neglect her phone this way, she always has it close by with how active she is in the chat room. He rings Jaehee.

"Yes, Mr. Han, what is it?" her soft voice answers back.

"Miss Kang, have you heard from mc recently? She won't answer my texts or my calls, I'm beginning to feel strange." Jumin admits.

Jaehee clears her throat, "No; isn't she still at your penthouse?"

"She hasn't been in the chatroom either, I left work early to come check on her. I feel complicated.." He says with a slight irritation in his voice.

"Jumin, are you all right?" The assistant asks, concern to her tone.

"Um, no- to be honest, I'm not all right. I will be in touch with you after I've seen that she's safe, until then, thank you for your concern Miss Kang, excuse me."

"Goodbye Mr. Han, I hope she's safe.."

He hangs up as the elevator reaches the top floor, doors opening to the reassuring sight of his bodyguards still posted at their stations.

"Mr. Han, sir? That was very fast." The chief bodyguard steps forward to greet him.

"I beg your pardon?" The director asks.

"Not long ago you said you were taking mc home to see that she continues her work?"

A wave of a feeling he can only describe as panic washes over Jumin Han, "Excuse me chief, I didn't inform you I was returning early from work.."

Entering his pass code urgently, he steps into the penthouse, mc's shoes are gone. Elizabeth can be heard mewing loudly from her cage in the background. He runs to the bed, no sigh of mc or her phone.

"AAIIISH!!" he hisses as he throws the blankets back sinking his weight into the bed, hands covering his face. She's gone. Quickly he gets on his security computer and pulls up CCTV footage, he rewinds the footage to where he sees mc go to the door, is that.. himself entering?

mc leaves holding the man's hand in the footage. The time on the footage makes that about 8 minutes ago.

Dialing Luciel, he bites down on his thumb nail.

"Jumin, what's up, meow?" The redhead answers by the 2nd ring.

"Luciel, now is not the time for pleasantries. My CCTV footage is acting strange, I saw a man.. resembling me, leave with mc 8mins ago on the playback feed. Only that's impossible because I just arrived here moments ago."

"Ohhhhhh?? Let me see.. hold on a sec-" 707 can be heard typing vigorously over the line, "HMmmM.. let's zoom in and get a good look, shall we?"

"You're 184cm, correct?" The hacker abruptly asks.

"That is correct."

"The man in the footage is 182cm tall.. you have a shorter doppelganger on the loose!"

A sick feeling in his gut again washes over the C&I heir, as he runs to tell the bodyguards of Luciel's findings, "Thank you for the information, Luciel. Continue searching and find out who it is, my bodyguards have begun a search in the building."

Just as he hangs up, something catches his eye.. there is a single silver hair on the floor. Upon closer inspection it is not one of Elizabeth's hairs. Clenching his jaw, he keys in Zen's number.

~*~*~*~

It's already afternoon, wow it was a long drive from Jumin's Penthouse.

Stopped at a traffic light, Zen's phone is ringing. The actor pulls his phone out of his pocket and you both see that none other than Jumin Han himself, is ringing.

Tightening your grip around his waist, slight anxiety makes its way to the forefront of your mind.

Zen returns in kind, pocketing his phone, gently caressing your hands with his, "Babe, are you hungry?"

"Yes, starving actually.." you admit to his back.

"Okay," The light turns green, he lets go of your hand and once again the motorcycle rolls forward.

Wind nipping at your arms and hair, you still feel anxious, but Zen's presence alone is comforting.

He pulls off at a barbecue place, you don't know this, but it's close to the theater he rehearses at often. You get off the bike with a hand from Zen and the two of you make your way inside the restaurant.

Seated in a back corner near a window, the actor tells the waitress he'll have his usual, winking at you as he makes a two with his fingers.

"Never in my entire acting career, did I ever think I'd be portraying that jerk." Zen sighs as he takes his hair down from the tight bun he had it in, fixing his loose locks back into a low-pony. He undoes his tie next, slinging it out of his collar, tossing it on the table. Lastly, unbuttoning the top 3 buttons on his pin-striped dress shirt, "Aaaahhh, MUCH better.."

He shifts his gaze back to you, you're looking out the window. Fixated on the street bustling with traffic outside, your hands cupping your chin.

"mc, are you all right?" He asks, eyeing your reflection in the window, "It's okay if you're not.."

You breath out a shallow sigh, "I'm better now, I just can't help but think he's going to try and take me back.."

"Jagiya, I'll worry about him when he does, for now I'm worried about you." he smiles faintly at you in your reflection.

Focusing on your own reflection, you suddenly realize how disheveled you look. Hair is frizzy and tangled, shirt collar is all bunched up under the blazer Zen loaned you. You try to straighten your shirt out atleast, taking the blazer off and sitting it beside you.

Then you finally meet the handsome actor's gaze. He's so breath-taking in person, and his eyes, wow.. they almost don't look real, deep Ruby and crimson with flecks of Amber mixed in.

"I didn't even get the chance to introduce myself, it's so nice to meet you, Zen.. I'm mc" you extend your hand to his, he takes it and gingerly encloses yours in both of his.

A warm smile crosses his lips, "It's nice to finally meet the mysterious party planner behind the screen. I'm so sorry it had to be like this;;"

Shrugging, you say, "It is what it is, I'm just glad you were there for me when I needed you.." a light hue of pink dusts your cheeks. The actor's hands are so warm, his skin soft too.

An array of raw meats thinly sliced, seafood, and vegetables make their debut at your table. Dipping sauces, side dishes of kimchi, rice, and other pickled veggies decorate the table. More plates come out for serving. This is a feast, good thing you're hungry.

Without skipping a beat, Zen begins to dress the grill with veggies, and some meats for you. "A girl has to eat," he says affectionately, flashing you his signature smile.

You smile back, "Well hurry up, cause this girl is hungry~"

~*~*~*~

A while later after you've both eaten your fill of Korean BBQ leftovers in tow, you make it back to Zen's place. Upon your arrival there is an unnervingly familiar face there to greet you both.

You glance at Zen worriedly and he squeezes your hand reassuringly, letting go to step towards the other man.

"Ah, it's Mr. CEO-in-line. What brings you here?" Zen feigns ignorance.

"I'm here to collect mc, she's important to me and I need her." Jumin says, crossing his arms and stepping toward the actor "I have to admit masquerading as me to get her was clever, but the masquerade is over, hand her to me."

"No. I can't do that, Jumin. You can't just cage her up against her will and expect everything to be okay. That isn't how this works!" Zen says shooting him a disapproving scowl

Jumin frowns, "Then I'll have to do this the hard way. Chief! Please lend me your assistance."

Chief of Jumin's security and 2 sidelining bodyguards step out from the shadows and go to grab you, but you lunge out of the way. Scurrying to your feet, you run to Zen.

The bodyguards surround the two of you.

"JUMIN!" You yell his name, shaking. "I don't want to go back with you!!"

The director falters for a moment, "Then what would you have me do, mc?"

"Go back to your penthouse, let Elizabeth out of that damn cage, and GO TALK TO SOMEONE!" You shout, your gaze piercing his.

"You're making a SERIOUS mistake if you keep going with this shitty kidnapping plan of yours," Zen barks out, you can hear his heart pounding in his close proximity.

Jumin steps back and clears his throat, "Oh my God what am I doing? Chief, hold back.. I need to think."

Stepping towards Jumin, you take a deep breath mustering up your courage to face the business man. Zen goes to reach for you but you brush away from his touch, making eye contact with a worried glance, he reads you and nods.

"I won't go back with you, but even though I haven't been with the organization that long.. I can see that you really do need help, Jumin."

Jumin meets your eyes with his own, ashamedly, "mc, I want to formally apologize for my behavior, I am truly sorry.. I'm not in my right mind, I'm under so much stress.. it's stifling and I have never felt like this."

You smile softly at the downtrodden business man, "I have a party guest confirmed to attend who specializes in dealing with emotions in a healthy way, if you want to see him?"

The director nods in agreement, "Yes that would probably be wise, please forward me his contact information." and with that Jumin straightens his tie and steps toward the actor waiting behind you.

"Zen I must also apologize to you, I put mc in an unfair position and in doing so ignored advice from you and the others. I'm truly sorry. I must also thank you for taking mc's safety more seriously than I."

Watching, you see the fire slowly extinguished in Zen's crimson eyes, he strides over to Jumin, "Ha.. I didn't expect an apology. I've known you for a long time, but I was truly worried you'd gone off the deep end."

The both of you see Jumin off with Driver Kim and the Chief bodyguard. The two other bodyguards stay behind to guard you while you're at Zen's, for his peace of mind.

Spending the rest of the evening at Zen's proves to be a therapy in itself for you. He lets you close to him so effortlessly, and it feels as if you've known him a long time. After today you are so relieved things ended this way, leading up to it you feared the worst.

When Mr. Han gets back he sends Driver Kim again for you, and you return to Rika's apartment at last to finish the planning for the party. Smiling softly to yourself as you boot up your computer you think, beyond that cool exterior Jumin Han has a beating human heart with feelings like the rest of us.

Jumin takes steps to getting the help he needs dealing with his emotions in a healthy way, he actually goes away for a while to meet experts in a foreign country. Unfortunately missing the party, and not being present very often in the chats, but it gets him out of his betrothal, as the Choi sisters are not accommodating to his mental health.

Jaehee informs you of updates on Jumin while she looks after his cat in his absence, Elizabeth the Third still manages to escape and go missing like in Zen's foresight dream, but Seven manages to find her in his own search for the hacker. You and Zen start dating shortly after the party.

A whirlwind of events to get you here, but you smile back on the tribulations that have transpired leaving you all a bit better off than you started.

~{I'd like to make one big note, I'm a softy and Jumin deserves peace and happiness, even if it's not from mc ❤️}~

originally I planned a spiral downward ending for Mr. trust fund kid, but I couldn't do him dirty like that~

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Chapter: 5/18 Word count: 1956 Summary: When Tobirama is exiled from the Senju clan without warning, without even the chance to plead his case, it feels like his life is over. What does he have to live for now without his older brother to believe in him? Captured by the Uchiha in his moment of weakness, Tobirama slowly learns to live again with the last people on earth he would have ever expected to care for - or to fall in love with.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI in the blog header!

Chapter 5

The seals on his wrists were hasty and clumsy, no sophistication in the symbols. They were drawn in the fashion of someone copying an image without truly knowing the meaning behind it. Someone in the Uchiha had clearly gotten their hands on some kind of chakra suppressant seal to use as an example but it was obvious that none here were masters of the art. Any self-respecting seal master would have cried themselves to sleep at just the thought of having their work bastardized as much as the mock cuffs that had been forced upon him the moment he woke up after his last visit from the two brothers.

Not to say that they didn’t work. Sophisticated or not the seals accomplished what they were meant to. He could feel his chakra seething just under the surface, boiling and rolling and crashing against the barrier they made like water breaks against a cliff, but they were sufficient to keep him from releasing anything and thus he remained powerless. Maybe if he hadn’t spent the last month motionless and flopping about on the floor letting his muscles atrophy then he might have been physically strong enough to think about another route for escape. Hindsight had always been a bitch.

All things considered, though, his situation wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. He had expected his jailors to drive him hard with impossible tasks but Madara hadn’t lied when he talked about hauling laundry around. It earned him all sorts of different looks, from curious to barely concealed distaste, but he supposed he could understand that. He too would have stopped to stare upon seeing his ancestral enemy waltzing through the compound to go wash clothes in the little stream running through the western quadrant. Knowing he would have done the same did not stop him from making each trip with a stiff back and a constant frown of discomfort, hating the feeling of so many hostile eyes on his back. It seemed a miracle that no one had yet tried to attack him while he was vulnerable. Whether they refrained because Madara had warned them to leave him unharmed or whether they all simply enjoyed seeing him lowered to this state had yet to be determined.

Tobirama hurried back to the Head family home as quickly today as he had every morning for the past couple of weeks. Working for Madara wasn’t so bad as long as he was able to keep his pride in check. And doing that was easy enough when he reminded himself that he was literally nothing now, no clan name to back him, no authority to wield. Honest work was about the only option he had left, though if he had found honest work anywhere else he would certainly have expected to be paid for it, but even if he would hesitate to admit it he was grateful in a strange way for a break from the horrors of the battlefield. So far the work he had been given was mostly house chores and it was a novel thing not to wash blood from his skin at the end of every day.

Letting himself passed the front gate of Madara’s home, Tobirama first made his way around to the backyard to hang the clean clothing up to dry. When the line was full and his basket empty he went in through the back door, eyed the dishes in the sink, and then dismissed them in favor of wandering down the hall towards Madara’s office. Easy his duties might be but some of them were still abhorrent. That particular chore could wait until the end of the day when he could get rid of them all at once.

Madara’s office was cushier than his own workspace had been in the Senju compound, one corner of the room piled high with pillows in case the man was too tired to crawl down the hallway to his bedroom at night, the other wall lined with squat bookshelves and ancient weaponry hung like decorations above. Tobirama made his way straight towards the pillows to flop down and stare morosely at the man kneeling at his desk, right under the window where he could make full use of whatever daylight came filtering through the protective mesh screens.

“Done?” Madara asked, not lifting his gaze from whatever he was reading.

“Clearly,” Tobirama drawled in return. Then he sank further down in to the pillows and closed his eyes to sulk pointedly.

“Hmm, that was quick.”

“Didn’t feel quick. Why do your clothes always require extra scrubbing?”

Madara chuckled. “I make sure they’re extra dirty just to frustrate you.”

Even if he knew that wasn’t true, it still sounded enough like something he would do that Tobirama gave a low noise of disgust. Actually he had noticed it was really Izuna’s clothing that always took longer to clean and from the dirt stains in certain places he suspected a harsh training regimen as the culprit. He hadn’t yet found the courage to ask whether his rival had always trained this often or if it was a newly developed habit; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Was he supposed to feel guilty about how much damage the man could do in battle without himself there as a shield, an equal force to cancel out the deaths either of them were capable of causing in a single encounter?

As if sensing his thoughts spiraling downwards again, Madara grunted from across the room and Tobirama opened his eyes just in time to catch the scroll that had been tossed at his head.

“You’re supposed to be a genius, right? Here’s your next chore.”

When he opened it to find columns of messily scrawled numbers he lifted one eyebrow with conflicted reactions warring inside him.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to let the prisoner do your accounting?” he asked. Madara waved his question off with one hand, still engrossed in his own work.

“There’s no names on there to tell you who our suppliers are, no locations to give away. It’s just numbers. You’re a scientist, shouldn’t you be good at numbers?” The man shrugged carelessly. “Reckon the columns and you can take a break. Just make sure you’re back here to cook dinner.”

“Seriously?”

“Like I said: they’re just numbers. What harm could you do knowing how much we spent on food the past few months?”

Tobirama held his breath, unrolling the scroll to take a second look. There was a lot of damage he could cause with these numbers, actually. Many people would pay handsomely for even small information like this; he could think of a dozen different weaknesses he could assume from just food budgets alone. He would have liked to say he could buy his way back in to the Senju’s good graces by providing them with inside information but he wasn’t that stupid. They weren’t that easily bought, as much as he wished suddenly that they were. Since the scroll in his hands was as good a distraction as any against such musings he buried himself in the task given to him without complaint.

It was oddly nice to be given something to do that used his brain again after so long. Working out simple arithmetic wasn’t exactly a challenge but the routine calculations were time consuming and it was better mental exercise than wondering what he could add to his detergent that would make the laundry a little softer once it dried.

When the damnable seals had first been applied to his wrists and he realized Madara was serious about putting him to work he had thought perhaps they intended to take advantage of his mind. He’d been infamous from a young age for his genius and his knack for creating new jutsu, new weapons, and for the sealing skills he had cultivated with the aid of books sent to him by their Uzumaki allies. As much as he appreciated not being forced to bring those skills to bear in a war that would inevitably find its way to the people he once loved, household chores did get boring after a while. Being asked to help with the accounting was almost like Madara was granting him a treat for good behavior.

He avoided mentioning that in case the fool grew contrary and took it away.

Although it only took him twenty or so minutes to work through the entirety of the small portion he’d been given, Tobirama neglected to mention he was finished for another couple of minutes, taking an opportunity to quietly study the other man in the room. Madara was more of a mystery to him every day. The most Tobirama had ever known of him before was a screaming battle persona and the exaggerated memories Hashirama liked to wax poetic about every so often. He had expected his time under the man’s thumb to leave him bone-weary at the end of every day from bring run in to the ground with work; he had expected to be humiliated and degraded, to have his temper tried at every turn.

Reality was much harder to wrap his head around. Madara was calm in the moments between the never ending string of disasters that made up his life. For making such an impressive figure in battle he was incredibly goofy in everyday life. He woke with his hair sticking out at funny angles and walked in to walls before consuming his morning coffee. He sat down on pins the clan children left on his cushion and hung his body out the window to shout at them without a care for how it left his rump on comical display. He tripped on rocks and absently stabbed people with chopsticks while making gestures and even stood on his own hair sometimes when he tried to get up from his desk.

But in the moments around those, when he was still and there was no one to disturb him, he was as calm and poised as any clan head should be. Under the screaming and the wild mane there was a good head with a smart brain. Beneath that lay a bleeding heart that gave in to a good set of pleading puppy eyes faster than Tobirama had ever seen.

Had he been captured by any other clan at odds with the Senju, Tobirama knew very well that most would not have taken the time to hear his story let alone believed him enough to look in to it themselves. And even less would have seen any point in keeping him alive once they realized that he could be of no use as a bargaining chip. Maybe Madara really did just want a slave to keep his house clean and his yard tidy but he was a kinder master than Tobirama would have found in anyone else. If he had been given the option to choose his own path he would have chosen death in an instant. But if he had to choose his own captivity, as much as he hated to admit it, he would choose Madara a hundred times over.

At least, based on his experience so far.

Warm and comfortable in the mountain of pillows he had sunk his body in to, Tobirama never noticed he was falling asleep in the midday sun until his eyes slid closed and he was already gone. The scroll of accounts slipped from his fingers to roll gently across the floor and bump in to Madara’s knee but Tobirama was not awake to see the soft look in those dark eyes as his greatest enemy sat and watched him sleep away the afternoon.

[emmerrr]

Would you do a pynch for the the ♔ prompt?

 anonymous asked: I’m a sucker for your pynch stories! ♕ pls 

♔: Finding the other wearing their clothes

♕: Holding hands

I combined these two prompts I hope that’s okay! also I’ve already done a prompt before of adam wearing ronan’s clothes and you can find that here. I’ve gone the other way around this time :)

also, please don’t send me anymore now. I have so many. so many…

Adam’s practically skipping on his way back to his dorm. It might be something to do with the weather. Sure, it’s freezing out but it’s sunny, autumn leaves littering the ground, just right for crunching. It’s enough to put anyone in a good mood. Some of it could be attributed to the returned essay that’s currently in his satchel, awarded with an almost perfect score.

But Adam knows that the real reason for his high spirits is that there’s a boy in his room waiting for him to finish classes.

A Ronan Lynch shaped boy.

Because of the distance, Ronan had driven up on Thursday, arriving late at night. It gave him the chance to relax in Adam’s room and recover from the long drive while Adam was at his Friday classes. Then he’d leave again Monday morning, but it at least meant they had the entire weekend together.

Adam’s very glad he doesn’t have a roommate this year.

When he gets back to his room, the curtains are pulled closed, and Ronan is sprawled on Adam’s bed, fast asleep. He’s on his front, one arm dangling down out of the bed and towards the floor, the other tucked underneath him. 

As peaceful as he looks, Adam needs to wake him up. He’ll never sleep tonight otherwise, and besides, he’s gonna get killer pins-and-needles lying like that.

“Hey,” Adam says, running a hand gently up Ronan’s arm.

Ronan’s eyes stutter and then blink open, and he looks at Adam with a thick-lidded gaze as sleep still clings to him. 

“You’re back,” Ronan says huskily.

“Yep. Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan says, and he rolls over onto his back, shaking out his arm.

Adam pauses. “Ronan.”

“Yes, Parrish.”

“You’re wearing my Harvard hoodie.”

Ronan crosses his arms immediately, covering the large white letters of Adam’s university.

“Am not.”

Adam tuts and shakes his head. “What a dirty, rotten lie, Ronan Lynch.”

Ronan widens his eyes with faux-innocence, but the act doesn’t last and he snorts. “Whatever, Parrish. It got cold in here and your nerd sweater was the only thing I could find.”

“That’s so interesting, because I can actually see your hoodie hanging over the back of my chair. And yet you went into my closet to get out one of mine.” Adam puts his thumb and forefinger to his chin like he’s pondering some great mystery. “So curious.”

Ronan throws the pillow at him. “You, Adam Parrish, are such a little shit.” Then he lunges forward and grabs Adam around the middle, manhandling him onto the bed and getting him into a headlock.

Adam laughs and tries to twist away, elbowing Ronan in the side. “I might be a little shit, but you’re a giant dork.”

Ronan releases him with a smirk. “Alright, you caught me. I’m wearing your fuckin’ hoodie. It’s comfy as hell and it smells like you.”

Adam can’t handle this. “Ronan,” he complains, then crawls into Ronan’s lap and hides his face in Ronan’s neck. “You’re such a sap.”

Ronan makes a disgruntled noise but his arms wrap around Adam, keeping him where he is. “Maybe. Don’t tell anyone.”

A little later, after Ronan’s given Adam a proper welcome back from class, Adam opens up the curtains to let the light of the day in for what little time it has remaining.

He turns to Ronan. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“For a walk. I need to get a couple things from the store anyway, and you need some fresh air.”

Ronan wrinkles his nose distastefully. “This is college air. It’s not fresh.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck you. And second of all, shut up, you’re coming. The cold air will wake you up properly.”

Ronan grumbles about it, but Adam still gets him out the door, and it’s inordinately pleasing somehow to have Ronan out in public wearing an item of clothing that is not only Adam’s, but that has the name of his school embossed across the front.

Adam takes them the scenic route to the store, through the park. There’s a few people still about, but not many. The sun’s just about starting to go down, and with it goes the temperature. Adam can feel the chill of the air creeping up his fingers.

Ronan’s hands are always warm.

It’s second nature to reach out and take Ronan’s hand; also familiar is the way Ronan’s automatically closes around it. There used to be a time when Ronan would look vaguely surprised if Adam held his hand, as if he couldn’t quite believe it was happening, but not any more.

They’ve both grown.

“Your hands are fucking freezing, Parrish,” Ronan grumbles, rubbing his thumb across Adam’s knuckles.

“I know.” Adam hip-checks him. “But yours aren’t.”

Ronan sighs. “Is that all I am now? Your personal radiator?”

Adam smirks. “Amongst other things.”

Ronan opens his mouth, no doubt on a snarky reply, but then his attention snags on something further ahead and his eyes positively gleam.

“Oh, heads up, Adam,” he says, and that’s the only warning Adam’s given before Ronan takes off at a run without dropping Adam’s hand.

He’s towed along, laughing breathlessly, and it soon becomes clear where he’s being led when he spots the pile of leaves at the side of the path. Ronan leaps in with a delighted, “Whoop!”, dragging Adam on through.

The leaves are every bit as crunchy as Ronan evidently hoped they’d be, as he jumps around like a five year old.

When he’s finished, he looks at Adam and grins. “That,” he says emphatically, “was really fuckin’ satisfying.”

Adam hooks his hands in the pocket of his hoodie and pulls Ronan towards him. He doesn’t need to ask Ronan to kiss him; he’s already there, warm calloused hands cupping his neck, thumbs grazing his jaw, lips on his lips.

Every minute not spent kissing Ronan Lynch is a wasted one, in Adam’s opinion.

Eventually, Ronan pulls away with an impossibly smug smile and takes Adam’s hand again. “C’mon, Parrish. To the store.”

The sooner they get what they need, the sooner they can get back to Adam’s room. “To the store,” he agrees.

It’s almost completely dark by the time they get there, and the carpark is almost empty. They pass an abandoned trolley as they cut through and Ronan, inevitably, pulls Adam to a stop.

He brings both of Adam’s hands to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “Adam, he says sweetly. “Get in the trolley.”

Adam sighs. He rolls his eyes.

He gets in the trolley.

[rwbyremnants]

Happy New Year!

And that's about it so far. Thanks for all the reviews, and the beta applications! We have a team of betas working on this stuff now, so hopefully (HOPEFULLY) that means it's going to start coming out much faster. Enjoyyyyy!

=Chapter 2

The bus was on its steady journey to the first tour location: LA. It was a two-hour ride, with nothing really to do other than look out at the various scenery – an activity that quickly grew tiresome. In truth, Yang was trying anything she possibly could to stay out of the diva's way. She did request that, after all. But when her only entertainment she had left, her phone, was at ten percent battery, she had no choice but to try and engage in conversation.

"So what's special about LA? You seemed really eager about this first stop."

“Excuse me?” But then the fact that the question was mostly innocent seemed to catch up to Weiss, and she shrugged, looking back down at her laptop screen. The only mobile outlet in the back that wasn’t in the bathroom was already taken up by her MacBook charger. “Oh. Well… it’s the first big show of this tour; isn’t that reason enough?”

It seemed far more than that, considering Weiss's face lit up when they first mentioned LA, but not when they mentioned any other locations. Not even the later dates, when they were headed north to perform with Neptune, seemed to be as exciting to her.

"You sure there isn’t someone you wanna meet there or something?"

“Wh-why should that matter?” she asked guardedly, folding her arms across her chest. “Even if there is, it’s still Los Angeles, the biggest city on the west coast! I can’t believe you’re interrogating me this way!”

"I'm not even- ugh, you know what? Forget I said anything." Sitting down on the nearest available seat, she took a quick glance at her phone again, mainly for something to do. They really weren't getting along after all. At least they were talking; maybe she could adapt the conversation a little. "Well, I'm looking forward to getting to Berkley. My sis at a university there; we could grab some coffee or whatever."

“We weren't stopping at Berkeley.” But her voice was devoid of her usual vinegar, and she looked contemplative. “At least, it’s not a tour stop… but we did just leave Sacramento. Do you see your sister much?”

"Not in the flesh, but we talk all the time. Sometimes even Skype if we can make the time. Last time we video chatted, she was introducing me to her dorky new roommate, Penny, but… that was a while ago." Such memories were already making her smile, and even compelled her to put her phone away entirely.

Fidgeting for a second, Weiss turned her attention back to the laptop screen. For about a minute, it seemed as if she had simply lost interest in their conversation as she messed around on her laptop, but then she suddenly stood up and said, “I need to speak to the driver for a moment,” before sweeping from the plushly-decorated “sitting room” of the bus.

"I-I... Okay." In that instant, she thought she had found a stepping stone to talk to Weiss, then had lost it again. Maybe this was going to be a solitary job, after all. With that thought in mind, she took her phone back out again, sighing as she idly browsed and resigned herself to waiting for it to die.

Or so she expected. Weiss sighed as if she had just accomplished one of the Labours of Hercules as she returned to the main room. “Alright. Hopefully your sister will be free for a coffee in about an hour, because we won’t have much time; we have to get back on the road within two hours of reaching Berkeley. Better double-check right now.”

"Oh. Well, that’s- what?"

It had barely registered just what Weiss said. Not until she suddenly blinked a couple of times, raising her eyebrows. Weiss had altered the travel path, only by a tiny fraction. But even then, she didn't have to do it for all.

"For real? You actually did this for me?"

Pursing her lips, the girl turned to look out the window instead of looking back at Yang. “Hey, do you think I want to be responsible for more family strife - especially when it’s not even my family?”

"Thanks, Weiss." No sarcasm this time. This was the first nice thing Weiss had done for her that didn't benefit herself in some way. Even if it was something as small as making an extra hour to get coffee with her sister – which when dealing with a tight touring schedule, wasn’t so small after all. Maybe that streak would continue.

After messaging her sister, she looked back over to her principal. "So… you got any siblings?"

“Hm?” She waved a hand as if it were a trivial matter, but still answered. “Yeah. Older sister. She’s completely impossible sometimes but hey, that’s a sibling for you.”

Even if it was trivial to Weiss, Yang wasn't going to give up. "What's her name?"

Weiss pinned the blonde brute down with a stare for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not it was worth telling her, or if she were being teased somehow. Adjusting herself in her seat, she sighed, “Winter. She inherited most of the business sense from my father, but I got the natural vocal talent from my mother. So we both resent each other for different reasons. It happens, right?”

"You hate your own sister?" Such a thing was completely alien to Yang. She'd grown up in a close family unit, herself; her sister and her father. And she kept in contact with both of them. Yet Weiss seemed to hate her sister now, as well as her dad, from what she gathered earlier at least.

“I don’t hate her, per se.” Then her brows knit. “And where do you get off passing judgment on our relationship?! You haven’t even met her; you don’t know what she’s like!”

"You know every single question I ask you isn't an attack, right? I might actually want to get to know you?" She didn't know what else to say apart from that. It seemed the subject was a touchy one, at least, not one Yang could ask about just yet. At the very least, she wanted to get to know Weiss from Weiss's own perspective, rather than her father's. But the diva was making that impossible.

“Well, who says I want to get to know you?” However, the instant it was out of her mouth, she looked down at the table on which her laptop was perched, squirming. “I apologise, that was… ruder than I intended. But you do seem to be making a lot of assumptions!”

Trying not to roll her eyes too hard, Yang simply folded her arms, turning on her chair to face fully in her direction, raising one of her eyebrows. "Well I can only assume because you're hardly saying a word to me. So do you wanna at least try and make this journey speed up a little by making conversation, or not?"

“Perhaps if you can rub both of your brain cells together to spark an interesting topic! I don’t really want to talk about my sister, she’s a pain in the posterior and we don’t get along!” Sighing, she followed up quickly with, “Tell me about yours instead.”

Insult notwithstanding, this was better than nothing. Even if the diva remained a complete mystery to her, at least she wasn't telling her to sit there in silence. Shrugging her shoulders, she obliged. "Her name's Ruby, she's eighteen. Small fry with black hair with a red fringe. She’s studying engineering since she's quite the little mechanic." Then she let out a small chuckle. "Actually, she's a huge fan of yours. Posters, shirts, limited edition vinyl – pretty sure she's even got a Tumblr blog dedicated to you."

Weiss smiled, partly bemused and partly weary. “Really? That’s fun, I suppose. I mean, sometimes the fame gets to me, but at least I’m ensuring my financial future.” After a second or two, she smoothed out her skirt and asked, “Does… Ruby like it at Berkeley? Have many friends there?”

"Oh, yeah. She has a fair few from what I remember. Um… a guy called John is one, I think? Then there's Nora, but Nora seems really hyper and a lot to take from what I hear. And of course her roommate, Penny, who she talks about all the time. I swear, if she's not fangirling over you, she's fangirling over her."

The pop princess’s smile had become slowly more earnest as she listened to Yang speak, until she finally said, “That’s so sweet. Makes me wish I hadn’t missed out on the typical ‘college experience’… oh well. I’m glad she’s found some people to hang out with there.”

"Yeah, she’s setting up a great little group of friends. It's nice to hear her talk about them. Sometimes I wonder if she talks about me, y'know? Like, tells them about what we did as kids, that kinda junk. But I’m probably not on her mind that mu-" But before Yang could continue with that tale, her phone buzzed. After taking a quick glance, the small smile she had only grew even more. "And speak of the devil, she says she's free for coffee. Nice!"

“Ah, perfect; that means I won’t have to undo the change in our route. And don’t worry, I won’t tag along; you and your sister must have all sorts of bonding rituals to attend.”

She was doing a good job of acting nonchalant, but one of her feet was tapping quite rapidly. Yang had a suspicion, and decided to act upon it. "Aww, you're welcome to come with, if you want. You changed the route just so I could see my sister; the least I can do is get you a latte or something." It seemed only fair to offer such an exchange. Even if Weiss was going to sit with them in silence, at least it would show she was making an effort.

“Well...” She glanced over at Yang again, and for the first time, she looked like she wasn’t sure of herself. Not momentarily, but overall. “Only if you’re sure. I could just as easily stay on the bus.”

"I'm more than sure. So long as your order doesn't come to above ten bucks; until I get your dad's first cheque I’m pretty much broke. Bike maintenance, all that stuff."

Laughing, Weiss tossed her hair and said, “I’ll order light, but… honestly, you don’t have to pay for my coffee. I have a black AmEx, you know.”

"Yeah, but I’m the one inviting you out; seems like I ought to spring for it." But to sweeten the deal even more, she began to smirk. "You know… If we have a spare minute or two to get it outta the trailer, I could show you my bike afterwards."

“The VFR Eight-hundred?!” Then she cleared her throat and smiled more casually. “Sounds interesting, yes. Perhaps I can convince the driver to follow us up the road for a while. I’ll pay for gas, of course, since you are on the clock.”

"That's actually what I was thinking; we could finish the drive down on the bike and be there early, then you can do anything you need to before the bus even gets there. See? More practical, and I get you up close and personal."

Of course the latter part was a flirtatious comment, and she waggled her eyebrows to make it even more over-the-top. Yang never did allow Weiss to live the lesbian comment down. Every given moment over their past week of preparations, she found a way to make an innuendo of some kind whenever possible.

“Get me up close and p-” Sighing in irritation, she got up and brushed past her as she walked through the room toward the lavatory. “I’m going to powder my nose. Try not to look through the keyhole while I’m in there, if you can manage that! Gosh, make one mistaken assumption and you never live it down…”

More eyebrow-waggles was her only response to that, until she disappeared into the lavatory. Leaving Yang to her own devices again. Finding herself shaking her head, she peered back at her phone again to check the time.

"It's gonna be a looooong trip…"

The small coffee house near campus was relatively packed, and Weiss was quite uncomfortable. The large sun hat and Jackie O. shades helped conceal her identity - a necessity for her that she wished she could afford to do without - but it was a pain remembering not to take them off.

Apparently, Ruby would be there in a few minutes, or so the text she had sent informed Yang. So the big sister was hanging out by the door, waiting to spot her, while Weiss held their table and looked after the iced mocha Yang had left behind. Part of her was tempted to steal a sip, but that would be both rude and disgusting. Drinking after her bodyguard… what on earth was she thinking?

A part of Yang was both excited and terrified for how the meeting would go down. On the plus side, she'd see her sister again, sit down, catch up properly with her. On the other, Weiss possibly would ruin the atmosphere for them entirely, sitting and making snide comments every chance. Whether or not she would tell Ruby who Weiss was or not was still up in the air. After all, this was her icon, someone she looked up to and was even inspired by. If she were to find out that Weiss was really just a diva who was mean to everyone, what would it do to her?

But she had no more time to think, since she saw the mess of black and red hair on its way. "There you are!"

“SIS!” The younger girl’s footsteps picked up in speed until she ploughed into Yang, nearly knocking her backward into another couple who were lingering near the doorway. Squeezing her tight around the middle, she grunted, “Ohhhh my GOD, I missed you so much!”

"Whoooaaaa there, demolish half the place while you're at it, why don't you?” she laughed, immediately bringing a hand up to pet her hair as she hugged her back eagerly. She hadn't even glanced back at the table yet. "How have you been? I mean, I know we text pretty often, but still!"

“Then you know I’m fine,” Ruby laughed as she readjusted her glasses, both cheeks bunched up from the force of her enormous grin. “You’re the one with all the news! Bodyguard to the rich and famous?! What’s that like?”

"Well it's..." Then she began to peer back toward the table, particularly the one where said person was sitting. Maybe she could pass Weiss off as someone else until they were ready to tell her. "It's got its ups and downs, like all jobs. C'mon - I'll get you a drink and we can all hang out for a while."

Nodding, Ruby followed her into the shop and toward the counter. Only when they were waiting in line behind some hipster in a newsboy hat did she think to ask, “Wait... who is ‘we all’?”

"Oh, just someone from the bus. She wanted coffee, too, so I brought her along." At least that would stall for time for a while before she decided whether to reveal Weiss or not. Just as a drink would. "So, what'cha having? I'll buy."

“Ooh! They have an iced hot chocolate here that I love so so SOOOO much!”

Which she ordered the instant the man moved on to wait for his drink, surprising the cashier. Shortly thereafter, they got the drink and proceeded over to the table.

“There you are,” Weiss sighed quietly. “Hello, I’m-”

“Nice to meet you!” Ruby burst out excitedly, grabbing her hand and shaking it up and down. Yang was glad; it meant her plan to have her meet her idol without knowing she was her idol was still intact. “You work with my sister, right?! Oh man, you guys must have so many stories!”

Blinking at the sudden burst of energy that seemed to make up Ruby entirely, Weiss smiled and said, “Um, yes, I do. Ruby, right? Yang’s told me so much about you.”

"Sure have. Take a seat, sis!" She didn't even wait for her sister to sit down before taking her own drink back again, immediately taking a sip. It was no longer as cold as she'd have liked, but still quite good. "Yeah, I've told her about your college and Penny and that kinda stuff; lots of time to kill on the bus, amirite?”

“What about Penny? I mean, why would you tell your friends about anything I’m doing? It’s so boring. I mean, to other people!” Laughing, she took a drink of her chocolate before starting and turning back to Weiss. “Oh! Sorry, I’ll shut up - what is it you do with my sister?”

The bemused smile spoke volumes. Glancing at Yang, a coy smile came into her features when she saw Yang wink. She was catching on. After a moment, she turned back and said, “Well, mostly I just help her with navigation. I was the one who navigated this little detour.”

“Cool, cool! So you’re like a navigator person? Do you drive the bus sometimes?!”

"Now Ruby, why would she drive the bus when she can relax in the back with me?" The flirting never stopped, even right there in front of her sister! And what only made it worse was the immediate wink that followed, aimed at Weiss yet again. Of course, by now Weiss’s reaction was merely to purse her lips and go back to sipping her half-caff latte with a hint of pumpkin spice.

“Yeah, I guess that’s a good point,” Ruby laughed, scratching the back of her head. “So tell me - Yang kinda tried, but she just started, so I think you’re the better person to ask. What’s it like... working with THE Weiss?”

THE Weiss in question nearly spit her drink across the table but managed to maintain composure. Seemed she hadn’t been expecting that their “ruse” would actually work. “Oh, it’s horrible. She’s kind of a priss, always ordering everybody around and snapping at people for no reason. You do know she made your sister punch someone out on her first day, right?”

Smile turning a bit more earnest at the diva’s self-assessment, she laughed, "I already told you a thousand times –and you even saw what happened –he spanked my ass, alright? Touch the junk, get dunked, and that's all I'll say about it."

In truth, Weiss regretted that first day even then, especially knowing it was a ply to try and get her new employee fired. Nonetheless, she took another sip of her drink to appear busy.

“Yeah, Yang told me about that,” Ruby growled under her breath, hunching over her beverage. “Boy, if I could get that guard in a room by myself, I’d... well I couldn’t beat him up much, but I could at least kick him in the shins!”

Giggling, Weiss said, “I’m sure you would. But by all accounts, your sister can take care of herself. She’s earned this job.”

“But I just can’t believe that Weiss is like that,” Ruby went on as if she hadn’t spoken, and not noticing the smile on her sister’s face getting wider. “She’s so nice in all her interviews, and she’s always doing charity work and junk like that! I mean, did you see the thing she recorded to help homeless kittens?!”

Weiss glanced over at Yang. Her employer’s expression was hard to read behind those sunglasses, but she seemed to be staring right at her. “I don’t know, what do you think of her? Isn’t she a real grouch, always snapping at you?”

Was this a challenge? It was like Weiss was daring her to reveal her to the world. That or say just enough to make the journey on the bike one of the most awkward ever if she chose to speak of her in a bad light with her right there.

Playing it safe, she sighed, "She's… a handful. But I think I’m starting to understand her better. Big baby that she is."

“I can’t believe you guys!” Ruby burst out, even while Weiss was covering her mouth and trying her best not to laugh out loud. “She’s the coolest ever, and you’re talking about her like she’s a jerk! This is- Sis, I’m really disappointed in you!”

Finally, she'd tolerated enough. She couldn't allow Weiss to win, whatever game they had ended up playing. Taking a quick glance around the room to check no one was listening, she leant toward Ruby closely, looking between her and Weiss.

"Ruby, I’m disappointed in you – didn’t even ask who this is with me! Dad raises us better than that!"

“Who she is? She’s your co-worker, um... Stacy! Or something!” Then her eyes squinted slightly at Weiss. “Wait... you never did tell me your name, did you? And even if you did, it’s probably not Stacy at all.”

“I didn’t,” Weiss chuckled, still hiding behind her hand. “But I’m glad to know I look like a ‘Stacy’.”

"Ruby..." Yang began in a hushed tone, now scratching the top of her head to try hide her secondhand embarrassment. "White hair? Shades we still couldn’t afford if we sold our house? I mean, I know she has a big hat on, but geeze…"

“Shades w.... what? I mean, what are you trying to s…” But Weiss was pushing the shades down her nose so Ruby could see her eyes. That seemed to be enough. “Wha... whatwhATWHAAAAAT?!?!”

“Wow, you okay?” Weiss laughed good-naturedly. But then when Ruby began to slide off her stool in Yang’s direction, she stood up and asked more urgently, “HEY, are you okay?!”

"Hooold up there, little Rose!" Immediately Yang slid her hands over to support Ruby, keeping her as upright as she could on the stool, even managing to balance her back upright. "See, this is why I couldn't say anything!"

“Gosh, I can’t believe she fainted! Really fainted - people still do that?!” Turning to a neighbouring table, she snatched up a glass of water with a vague “Mind if I borrow this?” and turned back, splashing it into the young girl’s face.

“AGHGHBLKHH!” Ruby burst out, flailing all her limbs and accidentally elbowing Yang in the forehead. Wincing at the sudden hit, she immediately went to rub her head once she was sure Ruby could sit up on her own, groaning out in mild pain. She could barely believe her reaction, either.

"I did say she’s a big fan…"

"THIS IS THE BIGGEST THING EVER!" Ruby half-squealed. When a half-dozen patrons turned around to raise their eyebrows at her, she came back to herself enough to duck her head and whisper, "I mean... you're really here, in this random coffee shop, talking to me and my sister!"

Still amused at all of her reactions, even though she had looked like she was about to panic when she squealed, the pop star shrugged. "You do understand that I drink coffee, right? It's not that abnormal."

"I hardly call that half-caff thing 'coffee'," Yang teased, looking back to the completely shell-shocked fangirl, she could only begin to laugh at her again, shaking her shoulder to try and get her back to reality. "Yo, she's still a person, Rubes. Maybe not like you and me, but still human!"

"No, she's a goddess," Ruby breathed weakly. Then she pressed both hands down on the tabletop and leaned in, eyes looming even wider behind the lenses of her glasses. "Your first mainstream album changed my LIFE! Before that, all I listened to was chiptune music - and yeah that's great and I still love it, but you drew me out of that world and into pop, which I always kind of thought was lame, but yours is SO not lame! The EP you released before that first album touched me in special places inside, the lyrics were so heartfelt and sad, and I still don't know what 'Broken Mirror' is about but it felt like you were ME, like you were telling ME you understood all my weird feelings of self-doubt! And that's probably stupid, but I don't know, maybe I needed that, and there it was, and just.... AHHHH!"

The table was silent for a few seconds as Ruby tried to regain her breath, finally sinking back down into her chair. Weiss took a sip of her latte to give them all time to think, then cleared her throat.

"Do you promise to keep a secret?" The vigorous nod from Ruby was encouragement enough. "Alright. 'Broken Mirror' was about my friends from before I went mainstream, about how I saw myself when they abandoned me because my new lyrics were ‘too sinful’. It's hard for some people to accept that you want to sing about ALL of life… and not just fluffy love songs or the stuff from my early years."

Although she mostly let the two chatter to one another, Yang couldn't help but take in that part of the conversation. She was so used to Weiss being a pop star that she never gave much mental consideration to what things were like for her before she was mainstream. Or even that she had friends! She seemed to just have assumed that Weiss had always been Weiss, and probably didn't want or need anyone in her life.

How wrong she was. She needed to learn more about her client yet.

"That's not cool!" Ruby snapped, clenching her hands into fists - both of excitement and righteous fury. "You're allowed to sing about more than Jesus! And you still sing about good things, like protecting people from domestic violence, and enjoying life instead of just worrying all the time, and- and OH! What about 'Daily Drama,' were you're warning people not to gossip and stuff? How many people wouldn't hear that if you were still religious?"

"Very true," Weiss laughed. Apparently, she was quite adept at handling "super fans", and Ruby was the very personification of that term. "You're a pretty smart girl."

"That's what my professors say," Ruby said with modest dismissal.

Weiss was a Christian singer before all this? That completely shocked Yang, especially since the songs she had heard about by Weiss were about boys, and some of the music videos were highly 'un-Christian' to say the least. And this never came up in the interviews at all – including Yang’s interview for her job. But maybe her father didn’t mention it because it no longer applied.

She agreed with Ruby, though. "Yeah, those guys are jerks if they left you behind just for that. Surely they should have been happy for your success."

"Yeah, you'd think," Weiss sighed, her shrug very casual. Practiced and measured to give the impression she didn't care. "Oh well, their loss, right? If they were willing to shun me because - GOD forbid, except He doesn't, really - I actually find the opposite sex attractive, then hey, I didn't need that kind of negativity in my life."

Did Weiss still have Christian beliefs at heart? Something about that made Yang oddly uncomfortable. Even if she had joked about being a lesbian at the start, the idea of it actually being something she was deeply against seemed to make her grow awfully quiet. Maybe that wasn't the best joke to keep going after all. And there were other things that began to make her even more worried. How would that go when the topic came up in conversation?

As best she could, she tried to keep to the subject at hand. "Well... yeah, exactly. I mean, I don't know if you're still a Holy Roller or not, but you're not exactly doing a Neon Katt and dropping f-bombs and thrusting at the camera."

That had Ruby snorting with laughter. "Neon WISHES she was Weiss! And she's so gross, her music is good but I can't handle watching her videos!"

"If you've seen one pelvic thrust, you've seen them all," Weiss agreed. "But she's actually a pretty cool person. Really intense, and sometimes she says insensitive things, but cool."

"What?" Ruby gasped, eyes wide. "You've met her? You've TALKED to her?!" Then she nodded. "Oh right, the VMAs - you were both there, but I never saw you together!"

"Backstage," she confirmed with a nod as she picked up her latte again. "I mean, it's hard NOT to rub elbows back there; I'm not a 'making the connections' kind of girl, but I try to at least be personable."

"Unless it's Neptune Vasilias, then she'd want to do more than rub elbows," Yang leant in to whisper to Ruby, only just loud enough so Weiss could hear as well. But on that subject… "Didn't you say we're gonna do with a show with him when we get to the Midwest or something? I think one of my old pals still lives up that way."

"Oh? Yes, we're supposed to meet up in Chicago." The tiniest bit of excitement bled into her voice as she added, "My father also said there might be something happening in New York later on, but I can't confirm that. Also, you didn't hear any of this!"

"Got it!" Ruby said with a salute. "But you bet the minute I see anything official online about it, I'm reblogging the hell out of the post!"

Grinning bemusedly, Weiss answered, "Good to know. Thanks for your dedication - seriously, I still can't believe people actually dedicate entire blogs to me!"

"Like I said to you on the bus, if she wasn't talking about Penny, she's talking about you. Her blog mainly consists of gif-sets of your videos and interviews with the odd theories on what the songs mean. Although there is… The Text Post."

Without context, Weiss would have no clue what that meant at all. But Yang was very aware that it was the ramblings of a teenager with a huge crush, hinting at something particularly raunchy. Ruby's eyes got a lot rounder behind her glasses - as if that was even possible - and her cheeks began to match the sporty red streaks in her hair.

"Yaaaang, you can't!"

"Can't what?" Weiss asked, glancing between the two of them. "What text post is this?"

"What was it again, Ruby? ‘I dream of a day when life won't screw me but Weiss wi-’"

Both of the younger girl's hands slapped over Yang's mouth, cutting off the rest of the sentence into a jumble of muffled grunts. "TH-THAT WASN'T ME WHO WROTE THAT! I only reblogged it, I was… don't take it out of context!"

Weiss's eyebrows were knitted together in confusion and she innocently asked, "What? What's the rest of it?"

That question remained unanswered, as every time she tried to pry Ruby's hands away from her mouth, Ruby covered it again. It wasn't until she reached for her drink instead that Ruby stopped.

"Seriously, it was just a dumb text post, god. If I remember when we get to LA, I'll show you." And then her eyes snapped open wide. "Shit, what time is it even?!"

"Oh, it's..." When Weiss glanced at her phone, she looked up with a shrug. "We have about ten more minutes if we want to maintain our schedule. If it were up to me, I could push it back more, but my crew would be irritated."

Wincing, Yang looked back to Ruby. If it were up to her, she would stay, as well. But she had her job to do, to make sure Weiss got to her tour location undisturbed. Even if that meant she was the disturbance. "We can't really do that the first night; it'd look bad on the crew and on us. Sorry, Ruby."

Watching her for a moment, Weiss thought about their situation. She thumbed through a few screens on her phone, sent a text, and then gasped theatrically. "Oh, wait - I misread the time! We have an hour and ten minutes. Do you think Ruby would like to hit the mall? We still have to upgrade your wardrobe a little."

Suddenly the saddened expression in the younger girl’s features seemed to light back up. She could spend longer with her sister, after all – and her idol! Grateful, Yang looked back over to Weiss, eagerly nodding. "Sure! I mean, I think my current wardrobe is fine, but if it means a little more time with my li’l sis, I'm in!"

Only then did Ruby seem to find her voice again. “WE'RE GOING SHOPPING? TOGETHER?!"

"Hope you know she's not gonna shut up about this for weeks," Yang commented, finishing the last of her drink and plopping the cup back down on a nearby tray before she got to her feet. But Weiss was smiling; something like a genuine smile, only just tinged with the weary patience of a celebrity.

"If that's the least I can do for your sister, I'm glad to do it. Now, chop chop!"

"What do you mean, we can't go to Spencer's?!" Ruby groaned in annoyance.

Shopping with her idol was going extremely well. So far, Yang and Weiss had gotten more entertainment for their bus trips, including a few books and magazines – and a power strip so they could both charge their devices at once. Ruby got a new pair of sneakers with light-up soles from Yang. The only stores left were what Weiss insisted upon the most: clothes.

Yang could only continue to laugh at her sister, patting her shoulder as they walked and her little feet lit up with each step. "Because I'm not about to take 'The Weiss' to the same building where there's buttplugs and naughty greeting cards, no matter how much you try and convince me you'll stay in the front half!"

"They have what kind of plugs?!" Weiss squealed - before collecting herself and clearing her throat. A few shoppers had already turned to look at her, and creating any more of a scene would spell a media disaster. "Uhhh, I mean… honestly, we don't have time to go in there anyway, even if I was in the market for such… accessories."

"Hmm… I never pegged you for backdoor hijinks,” she punned. Not that she expected Weiss to get it, sheltered as she seemed to be. “Guess I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. Anyway, there's way better places to go for stuff for that."

But before Weiss could glare at her any longer than what would be comfortable, Ruby was rushing over to yet another clothes store, pointing it out to Weiss immediately. "How about this for Yang's new look?"

The glare turned into a look of alarm. "Hot Topic? Oh, no no NO, that is not the look - we want her to blend in, not look like my pet." She turned to look further down the hallway, all the way to the end. "I see a Macy's in the distance; I suppose that will do, since we're a long, long way from Barneys."

"Now hold on, I'm not about to blow my entire budget on clothes I'm only gonna wear once. I at least wanna get something I like rather than something with a label." Even if Weiss had insisted on paying over and over, she didn't want her to, nor did she want to parade around in clothes too expensive and girly for herself.

Reluctantly sighing, Ruby began to think, tapping her chin with one of her fingers before snapping them as she landed on a possibility. "Old Navy! That's a good compromise, right?"

Again, a sigh from the diva, but what she said was, "Suppose it is. They should have something palatable."

The inside of the store was full of patrons between the ages of eight and twenty, with a person over that demographic here and there. It wasn't terribly busy, but they did have to elbow around a body or two to get to the back.

"No, no clearance racks," Weiss snapped at them when they turned in their direction. "We don't have time to go hunting – and finding something good there is like finding a needle in a bowl of other needles. You'll usually get stung no matter what." Flicking through a nearby rack of "distressed" jeans, she asked, "What's your size? About a... ten? Fourteen?"

"A twelve, usually. Thanks for not calling me chubby, or whatever." Having wandered around finding other much nicer tops, she found one that was relatively low cut, with the odd couple of frills down its front. "Oooh, that's nice..."

"Hmm." Glancing at Ruby, Weiss snatched a size twelve from her rack as she asked, "Should we at least try Yang's shirt, or look for something more tasteful? What do you think?"

"The slightly frilly one? Um…" She looked over the other shirt rails very quickly, spotting another low-cut top instead. A yellow one, that featured a fiery heart emblem on the left-hand side. "What about this? And then something for your neck to go with, like a scarf?"

Weiss's eyes lit up. "Perfect! This with a snood!"

"Snood?"

"Infinity scarf." Snorting at Ruby's still-confused expression, she nipped one of said tubes of orange fabric from a nearby rack. "This – or one in black, maybe? We'll try a few."

"Hey, what about some shorts, as well? If your tour's going into the summer months, she'll need to keep herself cool."

As soon as she said it, she pulled out a pair of black spandex shorts, only venturing very slightly down the thigh. Considering what Yang wore usually, it was slightly more adventurous, but the blonde seemed to grin at the prospect.

"I like your thinking! Shall I go try them on?"

"Might as well. If these don't work out, we can always do more browsing."

Carrying the two shirts, shorts, jeans and infinity scarves, they made their way to the changing rooms. Yang nipped inside by herself, so Weiss seated herself on the nearby bench to wait.

And Ruby sat next to her. For a moment or two, she sat perfectly still, twiddling her thumbs to try and give herself something to do. But Weiss didn't protest, so she shuffled closer. Still no protest. So she shuffled over yet again, more or less ending up by her side. Her head was still buzzing. The woman who was her idol was sat right there, helping her sister buy clothes!

"You know... She probably won't say it, but I'm pretty sure Yang really enjoyed today. She never got to do much girly shopping when she was younger."

"Oh?" Weiss asked off-handily. Though she wasn't trying to be rude, without a task in front of her, all of her mind was already focused back on the tour. "Why not?"

"Well, Mom died while we were really young. Too young to be concerned about what we were wearing, at least. And dad was kinda the 'go in, grab whatever, get out' kinda shopper. So she never got to try on anything like dresses or skirts till she was way older. But I mean, you know why that is, anyway. Wait – here, hang on."

Weiss was still trying to figure out why she should know “why that is” when Ruby yanked out her phone, flicking through various menus until she found one particular picture of two children. One resembled Ruby down to a T, the hair, the red-and-black clothes, a small hood half-covering her head. The other, who seemed a little older, had much shorter hair, and far more masculine and baggy clothes.

"I mean, look at us! Dad totally dressed us like dorks."

"Look at those two little tomboys!" Weiss laughed as she took the phone with her other hand to get a better angle with the screen. And then she grinned even wider. True, they did look like dorks, but Yang was undeniably already cute back then. "You're right, though; her fashion sense has only marginally improved."

"Well, it's a hell of a lot better than this…" Scrolling through a few more photos, she eventually got to one of Yang and a small Corgi. Yet again, her hair was very short. It looked as though it was barely allowed to grow out at all. The clothing choice, some combat-print pants and a bright yellow shirt with a Tonka truck on it. Unless Ruby had said it was Yang, it would have appeared to be a small boy. “This is when we first got Zwei, our dog. About a year before that first one."

"Awwww, what an adorable puppy!" she cried out. The clothing choices did strike Weiss as strange - but then again, Ruby had explained their father's inability to shop for girls. It seemed the two of them had only adjusted to it when they got older, and eschewed the ungodly camo print.

Then something else suddenly seemed more important for her to mention. "About... your mom. I know what that's like." Then she caught herself. "Then again, you've probably read my bio, haven't you?"

"Y-Yeah... I did. It's really hard, huh?" Ruby tucked the phone back into her pocket in order to pay full attention to Weiss. She knew from online that Weiss's mother had died in her younger years, but an online profile only told so much. It couldn't tell her how that made her feel.

"Well... what else can you do? Just pick up your head and move on. That's... that's it." This was one of the pop star's least favourite subjects; she always felt bad when she thought about her mother. Not because she was sad, but because she never felt like she was sad enough. "But... I am really sorry about yours, that you lost her. No little girl should have to go through what you did."

"Oh, trust me, compared to Yang, I'm fine. Right as rain! But the stuff Yang had to go throu-"

"So how do I look?"

They were cut off by Yang’s return. She stood in front of them, hand on her cocked hip. She'd chosen the short shorts and the yellow tank, along with the orange snood. All in all, making a somewhat complete outfit. Save maybe a jacket.

"Cold," Weiss snorted. "But... I think I spotted something that will complete the look."

Weiss returned to the main sales floor and nabbed a leather jacket that had short, capped sleeves and brass buttons. Rushing into the changing rooms again, she handed it over. "It was in the clearance - for obvious reasons. With that look, though... don't ask me why, but my intuition's telling me to go with it."

"You think?" But eager to give it a go, Yang took the jacket from her, trying it on over the top and buttoning it up.

The jacket didn't exactly cover her torso; in fact, if she wasn't wearing a shirt it would be exposed completely! But, just as Weiss thought, it brought the look together. Looking at the nearby mirror, she turned to each side.

"Oh, yeah… I dig this."

"Naturally," Weiss said with a flip of her hair. "Shall we take all of it with us to the checkout? We might also want to pick up a few other tanks, just in case."

"With that stuff, Sis, you look both pretty and ready to kick butt!" To punctuate her point, Ruby began punching back and forth at the air, an action that prompted a giggle from her older sister as she adjusted the shorts to a better fit. She wanted to make sure everything remained situated.

"Yeah, you're right. You think yellow works? Or should I do another colour?"

"We'll do all the colours. And before you say anything," Weiss cut her off, "these are clothes you'll be wearing while you're on duty, so I'm paying for them! And that's final!"

"Ugh, whatever. Least it's better than a suit, I guess." And with that, she turned to get back into the changing room.

Once she was gone, Ruby tapped Weiss's shoulder to get her attention again. As much as she didn't want it to be, there was an obvious red blush on her face. One that couldn't be helped. "L-Listen... I'm sorry I fainted earlier. Y-You just… helped me through a lot. Your music! I mean, you didn't know you did, but you did. And it's been so great to meet and… shop with you today."

This was something Weiss had heard a thousand times, and she heard herself using one of her standard replies: "Honestly, I always love meeting fans." But the earnestness in the girl's voice made her reach out and grip her shoulder as she took off her sunglasses for a moment. "Especially ones as nice as you, with such badass big sisters."

That made her grin like an idiot, even hunch her shoulders in embarrassment. "I probably sound like a real dork, huh? I'll bet Yang will be way better company for you on your travels. She doesn’t lose her mind like me.”

"You sound like a really sweet person who's passionate about what she likes. Nothing wrong with that." Her mouth twitched in amusement as she asked, "If I give you a little hug, can you remain conscious?"

Blinking a couple of times in disbelief, she pinched the skin of her arms a couple of times just to check she wasn't dreaming. Once assured of that, she scratched the top of her head. "I can't promise anything, but I'll try?"

Gently, Weiss brought her in for a hug, still clutching the sunglasses in one hand while the other patted her back. Then she whispered into her hair, "Your mother is proud of both of you, I'm sure. Smiling down on you from Heaven."

Although she remained more or less calm externally, internally Ruby was screaming. But that comment brought her straight back to earth – and in the best possible way. Her idol really was as nice and caring as she thought. She knew Yang was only winding her up with those comments about her being so cruel.

"Thanks, Weiss. And I'm sure your mom's proud of you, too! And she will be especially proud while you're out on tour, I'm sure!"

"Oh god, is she gonna faint again?" Yang asked as she emerged with her new clothes all bundled up, watching the two share a tender moment. Ruby already had gotten further than her, it seemed!

"Perhaps not," Weiss laughed as she stepped back, one of her hands still remaining on Ruby's shoulder. "Your sister was just… oh, never mind. Let's get these in bags so we still have time to go to the music store."

"Sure, so you can look at the CDs and go ‘Not Me, Not Me, Oh Neptune!!!, Not Me’..." Already ahead of them, Yang was making her way toward the checkout, in far lighter spirits than before. Most girls would shrug off a new set of clothes and simply move on to buying more without a second thought. But for Yang it seemed to mean more. Far more.

Just before Weiss could go with her, Ruby quickly held her back a moment, saying in a hushed tone, "Seriously. She won't thank you for this, because she's not that kind of person; but it meant a lot to her after… y’know. She'll find a less obvious way to show it later, I bet."

The knowledge seemed to surprise Weiss a little. "Really? I mean... it's just a few clothes. The money is pocket change to me, I honestly don't mind. She doesn't have to do anything at all."

"It's how they make her feel that she likes. You'll see after spending more time with her."

From that, it just sounded like Yang was proud of her appearance, and therefore proud of how the clothes made her look. But perhaps it was something else. Something more. Either way, the little sister then began to follow Yang, quickly tugging Weiss along with them. She really was going to have to wait and see what the fangirl meant.

[rairun]

I watched The Tale of the Princess Kaguya for the first time a few nights ago, and it's an excellent film all-around, but the ending in particular devastated me. I keep going back to it, trying to articulate what it is about it that moves me, but it's such a hard feeling to pin down.

I'm thirty-three now, and over the past sixteen years, I've shared the story of my life with some of the people who are dear to me. But I've noticed I usually skip something that shaped so many of thoughts and feelings when I was figuring myself out as a teenager. I generally do explain what happened in my life, but for the sake of simplicity, I avoid making reference to what I'm about to say.

When I turned seventeen, I had gone through over six years of abuse by my peers. I felt terribly out of place. I've written a lot about this on Tumblr, so I'm not going to repeat myself here. But shortly after I turned seventeen, something happened - I started talking to a person I knew more and more often, and she became the first person I had real emotional intimacy with. She was twenty-four at the time, and she's probably the kindest person I've ever met. I developed very strong feelings for her at the time, and it was obvious that we had a bond, but it soon became clear that we couldn't go down a traditionally romantic route - the age difference was one of the reasons, but she also had so many of her own issues to deal with. I wasn't the person she needed me to be.

It was a lot to deal with in such a short amount of time. I was coming to terms with what had been done to me in the previous six years (which felt like a lifetime then), and I was figuring out who I was - all while I tried to navigate a friendship that was the most precious thing I had ever had. I cared about her so much that it became self-evident that she couldn't be a thing to be had at all. Our friendship was not something to be possessed; I didn't want my friend to be mine. And yet... I felt like a deep well of loneliness that needed to be filled. There was something inside me that craved for understanding, and intimacy, and companionship. She was always so kind, and patient, and open. What else did I want?

In “John My Beloved”, when Suf sings "I am a man with a heart that offends with its lonely and greedy demands", I think this is what he means. I had all this pain and thirst in my heart, but I also knew that extinguishing them was fundamental, both for my sake and for the sake of the ones I loved, who shouldn't have to bear the weight of those demands.

Now to the part I don’t usually talk about: those experiences put me on a path. It all started when a friend sent me a link to a site full of Theravada Buddhist texts, and I didn't stop reading about enlightenment until over a year later.

Enlightenment represented that seemly impossible transformation. It was the letting go of craving and desire, a surrender of myself. It was fundamental because in my mind there was no other choice - I could not live with myself if living meant treating my loved ones as possessions to be held on to. I had to untie that knot. I had to walk away from that part of me that needed so much without knowing why.

But as you walk down that path, as you think about it over and over and over, you eventually begin to realize what full enlightenment really entails. It's the death of the ego, we are told from the start, but at first we think we will get away with having our cake and eating it too. At first it sounds like a real possibility because it's shrouded in mystery and tradition - it's like believing in miracles. But the truth you eventually have to confront is that the death of the ego is literal death: there is no recognizable "you" left at all. The search for enlightenment - and I say this in the kindest way possible - is ultimately a death cult. As you approach the end of the path, you will be lucky if you have taken your feelings apart with such an unwavering sense of purpose that you are able to walk away from the whole business with a healthy sense of proportion and decent cognitive strategies to handle your life.

You will still desire, and you will still suffer, but it won't be as hard to find a bittersweet beauty in it. And you will always feel a sense of kinship for those who were driven to walk down the same path, who felt such a fundamental urge to do right by themselves and by others, to try and love with no strings attached, that they were willing to consider death.

The ending of The Tale of Princess of Princess Kaguya moved me so much because in a moment of despair, the princess begs the moon to take her away, and her wish is granted. The princess soon regrets her request, but it is too late: the moon will claim her during the next full moon. Her father fortifies their mansion’s defenses, but when the procession of enlightened beings floats down the sky on a cloud, playing a bittersweet song of joy and turning flying arrows into flowers, it is unstoppable.

It's such a striking scene: so gentle and merciless all at once. The procession enters the mansion without even acknowledging the soldiers trying to defend it. They fall into a deep slumber as the clouds pass them by, obliterating their resistance and softly breaking their fall. The enlightened beings beckon the princess and she just goes, helplessly - though helpless is not quite the right word, since for a moment she doesn't even resist, she just goes.

The detached peacefulness of the procession, the impersonal joy it conveys, is what we seek when we wish for the impossible transformation of enlightenment. It's what we hope will fill us up when we empty ourselves of ourselves. And this is when we have to reconcile the absolute necessity of this with our desire to live. Because in real life there is no resurrection. There are no miracles. There is no life beyond death.

When the music is interrupted and the princess is about to don a robe that will erase all her memories and sorrows, she hears the dogs bark and the children sing all the way down below:

Birds, bugs, beasts Grass, trees, flowers Flower, bear fruit, and die Be born, grow up, and die Still the wind blows, the rain falls The waterwheel goes round Lifetimes come and go in turn

This is a song that is sung throughout the film as she is growing up, and it represents her life here on Earth. And it once again reminds her that she doesn't want to let go of the imperfect beauty of it - the song pulls her back to the world we all live in. It also awakes her parents, who run to the edge of the cloud and beg her to stay. She asks for a little more time, and darts to her parents, asking for forgiveness.

When one of the enlightened beings tells her to come along and leave this world's sorrow and uncleanness behind, she says, "It's not unclean! There's joy, there's grief... All who live here feel them in all their different shades!" But then the being wraps the robe around her, and her expression immediately changes, and she is as good as gone. She takes her place in the procession, the joyful song resumes, and they leave just as they came. Her parents look inconsolable on this tiny distant planet we call Earth.

Goddammit.

This is just the final scene. The rest of the film is just as good. The portrayal of her parents as caring but flawed human beings, who love her in their flawed human ways, is so touching. Her childhood in the countryside is beautiful too. And her tumultuous life after they move to the city, with all the limitations imposed on a princess, is depicted in such a nuanced and non-patronizing way.

This might just be one of my favorite movies ever.

[theshatteredrose]

The Treasure Seeker: Saga 1 - Chapter 3 (Etrian Odyssey 5 Fanfiction)

AN: Despite the seemingly endless string of headaches and minor annoyances this week, I managed to get this chapter done. I’m wondering if I should post pictures of my characters so that my readers would get a clearer idea of who looks like what. And because the pictures are pretty :D You tell me; it doesn’t bother me either way. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading and do let me know what you think of it so far. Any encouragement will be greatly appreciated~

Wattpad | AO3 | FFNet

~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 3:

After a restful night’s sleep, Drayce awoke early in the morning and made his way down stairs. Unsurprisingly, Ashton was already up and had partially made breakfast. Though Ashton was indeed a scholar, he was also quite the caretaker. He honestly had to be as his father’s trusted understudy. Treasure hunters and archaeologists were rather notorious for getting caught up in their work.

Opting for a couple of moon apples to munch on, sat at one end of the dining table and looked over the mission registration form Ramus had issued to him yesterday. The premise of the first mission seemed easy enough; draw a map and grab a soil and sapling sample. Oh, and come back in one piece. An important one.

Though it sounded easy, Drayce knew better than to think it would be a walk in the park. The mission, after all, was pivotal in ensuring that only those who can handle what the labyrinth might offer continue on to become explorers. The council wanted to ensure that rookie adventures knew what they were getting themselves in. And, hopefully, lower the potential deathrate.

Those who fail were better off looking for another career.

Although, Drayce was fairly certain that many would-be explorers wouldn’t give up that easily. He remembered Grampa telling him tales of ‘rouge’ explorers, as he called them. Loners who wouldn’t abide by the rules of anyone. Sometimes not even their own rules.

The guards were in place to guarantee that only registered explorers entered the labyrinth. But they couldn’t be everywhere at once and with the labyrinth so large, it was impossible to know all possible entrances or escape routes. And there was nothing stopping the dumbasses from literally scaling the thing to get inside.

In any case, Drayce was determined to do the right thing; complete the first mission and be registered as an explorer.

He could potentially do whatever he wanted after that.

And it was going to be so much fun.

The sound of a chair scrapping against the floor pulled Drayce from his thoughts and he lifted his head up in time to see Blayke take a seat on the other side of the table directly opposite him.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” he asked as he took a bite out of a simple roll of bread with jam on top.

“Hm. Not completely sure, to be honest,” Drayce replied as he dropped the papers he was reading onto the table in front of him. “I was thinking of visiting the guildmaster and registering, but wouldn’t it be better to find a few members first? At least enough to form a party of five?”

“Sounds reasonable,” Blayke muttered around his breakfast as he cast an idle gaze upon the paper work. “The hard part will be finding the right kind of explorer to join our guild. We can’t just have anyone. You have a royal mission, after all.”

Drayce tapped his chin in thought for a moment. “Very true.”

Ashton dropped himself down onto a chair at the end of the table closest to where Drayce and Blayke were sat. “You might want to keep that hidden initially.”

Drayce arched an eyebrow at the green-haired man. “Are you worried about opportunistic explorers thinking they’ll be on easy street?” he questioned.

“Exactly,” Ashton replied before he launched into a quick explanation. “With you being hired by Prince Ramus himself, others might use you to get to him. Or try to use you to get to the Lost Treasures first.”

That made sense. Finding treasure was easier if you had someone else doing all the hard works instead. Surely, though, other explorers would have their full attention on keeping themselves alive, right? He didn’t want to think badly of other people.

Still, it was best to be safe than sorry.

“A lot of these explorers probably aren’t aware of the legends of the Lost Treasures, but you have a point nonetheless,” Drayce conceded.

Blayke finished off his breakfast before he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back into his chair. “That will make finding the right kind of guildmate harder,” he muttered. “Especially since we’re new to the city as well.”

Well, a challenge was only a challenge if you saw it as one, right? That was what Grandpa used to say a lot.

“Don’t forget your connections,” Ashton suddenly piped up with a knowing smile on his lips. “I know a fellow scholar that might be useful to you. He’s an expert in reading ancient texts. I can introduce you to him, if you like. I’m sure he would be greatly beneficial for when you start looking for the Lost Treasures.”

“Sounds perfect,” Drayce said, perking up a little inside at the thought of meeting and perhaps befriending someone who was as interested in myths and legends as he was.

“He also has a brother who might be able to join your guild,” Ashton added, his smile not wavering for a second. “A warlock, I believe. Quite adapt at Mana Detect.”

“Sounds even better!”

Ashton laughed heartedly for a moment. “I’ll arrange a meeting for you guys later,” he said. “But first, you should visit the market place. A few vendors there are quite knowledgeable in the materials found in the first and second floors. And while you’re there, you can buy some food to stock up the kitchen. Can’t entice potential guildmembers to join your guild with an empty kitchen.”

And one couldn’t go exploring or adventuring on an empty stomach, either.

“Fair enough,” Drayce said as he placed his hands atop of the table and pushed himself to his feet.

Across from him, Blayke did the same. “No coffee, though.”

“Why no coffee?” Drayce asked as he arched a questioning eyebrow.

Blayke levelled him with a very stern and somehow shrewd look. “Because when you start your real research, you tend to forget to sleep and drink gallons of coffee to help with your ‘productiveness’.”

Drayce was, naturally, rather indignant. “What? Dude, I so do not do that.”

Blayke’s expression grew agitated as he stepped away from the table and proceeded to head back upstairs to get ready. “That’s an outright lie. I can’t believe you said with a straight face.”

Drayce followed him, he, too, intent on getting ready. “Ok, rude.”

But as per usual, Blayke ignored him and the two of them got themselves ready for a day out grocery shopping.

… … … … …

Locating and travelling to Iorys’ market district wasn’t at all a difficult process. It was thankfully rather close to the guildhouse, allowing for quick and easy shopping whenever they needed it.

Despite it being soon after breakfast, the district was bustling with open vendors and busy shoppers. Of both locals and explorers, it seemed. A few stores appeared to be that of well established businesses, including blacksmithing facilities, while others were more akin to those of travelling vendors who were free to come and go as they pleased.

The store that caught Drayce’s eye was that of a seemingly newly erected building. An open store front with a blacksmith furnace located at the back. And the apparent owner of the store was a young brounii with quite an eccentric outfit of fine firs, feathers, and jewellery. It was actually the large green emerald he had pinned to his chest that caught Drayce’s eye. Obviously the man knew his jewels.

“Welcome!” the brounii cheerfully greeted as Drayce approached, with Blayke trailing behind him and eyeing their surrounding cautiously. “Ah, you’re a pair of new faces. Come to explore the labyrinth?”

“Planning on it,” Drayce answered honestly. “We just arrived yesterday, though. Still plotting our first trek.” He cocked his hip out to the side and planted his hand on it. “Any advice for us rookies?”

“Only to keep a close eye on your surroundings,” the shopkeeper answered swiftly as a friendly smile spread across his lips. “You never know what hidden treasure you might find!”

“Another one?” Blayke was heard muttering behind Drayce, but he was promptly ignored.

“Ah, a treasure man, huh?” Drayce asked as he felt his own grin grow.

“Well, of course. What Brounii isn’t?” The brounii then let out a peculiar but rather adorable laugh, one that seemed to come easy from him. “Anyway, the name’s Syrik.”

The brounii now known as Syrik threw out his hand for Drayce to shake, to which Drayce promptly did. He was in turn about to introduce himself and Blayke, but was interrupted by Syrik continuing to speak.

“To be honest with you, I only arrived to Iorys a few weeks ago myself,” Syrik explained as he released his surprisingly tight grip on Drayce’s hand. “When I heard that they were re-opening the labyrinth to explorers, I nearly fell over myself in my haste to get here. Being a traveling merchant is fine and all, but it makes perfect sense to set up a store here. The labyrinth just has to be filled with mysterious treasures and rare materials, after all.”

Drayce nodded his head in complete understanding. “Ah, a man after my own heart. I come from a long line of treasure hunters and archaeologists. So I know exactly what you mean.”

Syrik eyes widened before they all but sparkled with excitement. “Then that means…you’ll be able to find rare and high quality materials!” he said as he laughed good-naturedly.

Drayce couldn’t help but laugh as well before an idea struck him. “Tell you what; I’m not greedy. Should I find anything worthwhile, I’ll sell it to you.” He then offered his hand out to Syrik in hopes of sealing the deal. “Well?”

“You’ve got yourself a deal!” Syrik eagerly responded as he shook Drayce’s hand rather enthusiastically. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“You, too,” Drayce replied with a grin before he straightened himself up and tapped his finger against his temple. “I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? My name is Drayce and this is my partner in crime, Blayke.”

Blayke barely had enough time to utter out a greeting in return before Syrik spoke up. “Nice to meet ya both!”

Syrik was certainly an energetic and enthusiastic shopkeeper, wasn’t he? Drayce was more than certain that they were going to get along just fine.

He was about to ask Syrik what kind of ‘treasures’ he was to expect on the first floor when Blayke grasped him by the shoulder and gave him a little push.

“Come on,” he said with a slight scowl on his face. “The kitchen won’t stock itself.”

“Right right,” Drayce answered passively, mildly wondering why Blayke looked more agitated than usual. “Catch you later, Syrik.”

“Come visit again soon~!”

�� … … … …

With their arms filled with shopping bags of their much needed food supplies, Drayce and Blayke made their way back to the Crescentia. They seemed to have gotten everything on the shopping list Ashton gave them and hopefully by the time they return, a meeting with that fellow scholar Ashton had mentioned had been arranged. Or at least in the works.

“I quite like the market place,” Drayce commented cheerfully as they turned a corner and took to a slight incline that led directly to their guildhouse.

“That honestly doesn’t surprise me,” Blayke commented. “That place is filled with stores offering novelty trinkets and shit.” He then unexpectedly nudged Drayce with his shoulder. “And, dude, stop telling everyone you’re a treasure hunter.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Drayce asked as he turned to look at the fencer. “No one knows why I’m here or what treasure I’m looking for. Besides, it’ll be nice to be able to geek out with someone else who likes treasures, too.”

Blayke looked both agitated and defiant for a moment before he sighed and shook his head as a genuine expression of worry appeared on his face. “Look, I’m just worried, ok?” he admitted. “What Ashton said this morning is true. Whether they know why you’re here or not, you might be targeted by other guilds looking to get rich quick.”

Ah, so that was the reason for the scowl. He was taking Ashton’s warning to heart.

“Fine, fine,” Drayce said in a surrendering manner, not wanting to argue with Blayke’s obvious concern for him. “I’ll take your concern and worry into consideration and be more careful, ok?”

Blayke seemed satisfied by that for the time being and they both fell into a comfortable silence.

But as they drew closer to the Crescentia, Drayce noticed a young Therian on the other side of the street. They appear to be that of a male, with hair that appeared to be that of both light purple and light blue, and was wearing pastel clothing that was similar to that of rovers. His ears were that of canine variety and were the same pastel yet vibrant colours as his hair. The white wolf with a stunning blue design upon its forehead also gave the indication that he was indeed classed as a rover.

Aside from his wolf companion and a small bag on his back, he appeared to be alone.

Drayce didn’t realise that he had stopped walking and was all but staring at the kid until Blayke kicked him lightly in the shins. “What are you staring at?” he asked.

“That kid,” Drayce said, not taking his eyes off of the pastel rover. “He doesn’t look right.”

“What do you mean?”

Drayce carefully studied the kid’s movements, his brow furrowing slightly. “He’s shuffling his feet and his arms aren’t swinging by his sides. His head is also down as if he can only concentrate on the path in front of him. His wolf companion is right at his heel, his tail down and slightly between his legs.”

“…And?”

“I think he’s sick,” Drayce said simply as stepped off of the curb and made his way to the other side of the street where the younger rover was.

“Wait a second,” Blayke muttered as he moved to follow him.

Balancing his shopping bags into one arm, Drayce approached the rover rather cautiously. “Ah, hey there?” he called out to him, surprised when the kid immediately stopped walking but failed to turn around and look at him.

But his wolf companion did. Blue eyes turned to look at him before quickly glancing back at the silent Therian. This continued a couple more times before a soft whimper was heard.

Drayce felt concerned and he lifted his hand hesitantly. “You-?”

Before Drayce could ask if he was alright and if he needed any help, the kid suddenly fell to his knees before slumping forward haphazardly on the ground.

“Shit!” Instinctively, Drayce dropped his shopping bag and tried to reach out to him. But he had to pull himself back when the wolf immediately lunged forward and stood over the young rover’s unmoving form.

An understandable reaction, but Drayce couldn’t see if the kid was breathing with a protective wolf growling at him.

“Easy now,” Drayce said as he crouched down to be at the same eye level before he reached out a hand toward the wolf. He made no attempt to pat him or touch him in anyway. He just lifted his hand, hoping that the wolf would find him non-threatening and perhaps by sniffing his hand, allow him to check on the kid. “I’m not a bad guy, promise.”

What felt like a solid five minutes of tension, but was probably a minute max, the wolf slowly stretched out his neck and sniffed at his hand. Drayce made sure to stay perfect still while the wolf took in his scent.

And when the wolf nudged at his hand with his nose, Drayce felt relieved.

“See?” Drayce said as he gently patted the side of the wolf’s muzzle. “I won’t hurt either of you.”

The wolf seemed to understand him as he uttered a low whimper and removed his protective stance on his master.

Quickly, but carefully, Drayce rolled the rover onto his side and carefully slipped an arm under his shoulders to pull him into a sitting position. The kid was thankfully breathing, but it was laboured, coming out in short puffs and near-silent whimpers. His eyes were clamped shut and his face was creased into a look of pain. But most noticeable was how red his face was and how sweaty he appeared to be.

“What’s wrong with him?” Blayke asked as he cautiously crept closer, eyeing off the wolf as he did so.

“A fever,” Drayce said before he slipped an arm under the rover’s knees and all too easily picked him up. “Let’s take him back to the guildhouse. Sorry, but could you get the groceries?”

“Yeah, sure,” Blayke said as he shifted his bags to one arm.

But as he reached out to grab the bags that Drayce had dropped, the white wolf unexpectedly beat him to it. The wolf snared a couple of the bags with his mouth and picked them up easily. It was either something he was trained to do, or it was the wolf’s way of wanting to help somehow.

Drayce liked to think it was the latter.

“Let’s go, Doggo,” Drayce said.

They had been thankfully close to the Crescentia before the incident. They were also lucky that the front door had been left slightly ajar in preparation of them returning with their arms full of food and other groceries.

Keeping a firm grip on the young Therian in his arms, Drayce pushed open one of the doors with his shoulder and hastily stepped inside. “Hey, Ashton!”

“Welcome back,” Ashton responded before he stepped out of the dining room with a broom on his shoulder. “I’ve just finished the kitchen and-”

He stopped mid-sentence when his gaze fell upon the rover resting fitfully in Drayce’s arms. A look of confusion as well as concern appeared on his face. “What in the world?” he asked as he ventured closer.

“He fainted on the sidewalk in front of us,” Drayce explained quickly. “I couldn’t leave him.”

Ashton looked at the kid before shifting his gaze up at Drayce. His eyebrow was arched, yet he didn’t seem all that surprised. “Let’s see,” he said instead as he returned his attention back to the unknown rover. “He’s unconscious. He’s also burning up. Place him in the seating room while I’ll get a bed ready.”

“Sure,” Drayce said as he turned on his heel and quickly made his way to the large seating room.

The white sheets that protected the furniture from dust had thankfully been removed, so Drayce carefully placed the still unconscious rover onto a couch and laid his head upon a pillow. The pillow was a light blue, and alarmingly, the flush to the kid’s cheeks stood out harshly.

“He doesn’t look good,” Blayke said as he, along with the white wolf, entered the room. He was carrying a bowl of water and a cloth, thankfully.

And as Blayke placed down the bowl of water onto a nearby coffee table, the wolf companion immediately sat by the couch in front of his master, his nose gently nudging at his hand. He then uttered a small whimper, one akin to that of concern and confusion as he gently licked at the kid’s hand.

The wolf was a loyal companion and could heal the physical wounds of others through licking them. But unfortunately, the kid was ill with a fever. Either from infection or a virus. He needed medicine. And rather quickly, too.

“I think he needs a botanist,” Blayke said after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Drayce said as he lifted his gaze from the kid and turned in the direction of the front door. “I better go find one.”

Blayke was naturally going to protest, to ask him where he was thinking of finding a botanist when Ashton entered the room.

“I might know someone,” he unexpectedly said with a small but knowing grin. “He’s called a Botanical Genius, but a little picky when it comes to guilds or explorers he likes. He gets invitations to join a guild daily, but turned them all down.”

All very interesting, but that didn’t matter at the moment.

“Right now I’m not looking for a guildmate,” Drayce said. “This kid needs help. Surely he would agree to help him, right?”

Ashton continued to smile, as if he had expected such a response. “Here,” he said as he handed Drayce a slip of paper with an address on it. “This is where you can find him. But, whatever you do, do not mention his height. Or lack thereof.” 

Quickly grabbing the address, Drayce arched a questioning eyebrow but decided not to ask. “I’ll be back soon, ok? Watch the kid for me.”

[spycethra]

Wanted (5)

Oh dear. A continuation of Wanted, huh? 

Well, you guys are hella amazing to love this AU so much to wait out 6 months for me actually get part 5 up. But here it is~! Yaaay! And it’s kinda long. So I do hope you all enjoy.

AU: Wanted Pairing: Rhack, Rhysothy, Jackothy, Rhackothy NSFW-ish

---

After his ‘episode’ at the airport, the dark burdening curse of his unexplainable dilemma resumed its macabre existence beneath his skin. It was as if it gave off a perfectly recognizable scent solely through his pores - only detectable by the frightening, broken minds that constantly attempted to seize him for their own.

Sleep had been impossible to find, up until it wasn’t.

Rhys felt a careful yet firm tug on his shoulder, surprising him from an unrecalled slumber. He sat straighter in his suddenly unfamiliar surroundings. He was now in someone’s living room, but his memory was too fogged for the details as to he arrived there.

The unknown being’s hand was still clasped to him. The contact chilling him to the core.

As if sensing his terror, the person released him without a sound and his world proceeded to slow down to the tempo of a reaper’s march. Worry clamored inside him like cymbals beaten senselessly together. His possible captor was rounding the leather couch that he was on.

He dared not turn to find to whom the hand belonged. Instead he was already scanning the living room for an escape route. Though he mostly found the disturbing indication of it being nighttime beyond its locked windows. The footsteps nearing him sounded ever more daunting with every heavy step upon the hardwood floor.

How much time had passed since he arrived?

His question scarcely survived more than a few jarring seconds as a pair of strong arms encircled his shoulders from just behind the couch. Rhys tensed with despair. His captor had left for something and returned, and Rhys still had no recollection of the past several hours. His fingers dug desperately into his thighs as he quickly searched with just his eyes for anything he could potentially convert into a weapon.

“Still having nightmares, cupcake?”

Rhys blinked with surprise from where he sat, relaxing slightly despite feeling mostly stumped. He could feel Jack’s chin rest itself atop his head in a jeering sort of way.

The visitor ducked his head down slightly, feeling embarrassed for not to having noticed Jack's intoxicatingly masculine cologne from the start. His overwhelming fear had somehow managed to blot away any notion of him being safe. It was a strange feeling as his uneasiness still struggled to leave him, as if still warning him of an unseen danger.

Unwilling to let his scare get the best of him, Rhys did his best just to relax in Jack’s protective (and slightly possessive) hold. Rhys shuddered out the excess of his adrenaline, gasping out by mistake as he had been incidentally holding his breath the entire time.

“Nightmares it is then,” Jack concluded for him with a slight huff before rocking the both of them side to side, “Rhyyyys. You just got heeerrreee. Stop worrying so much!”

Rhys could already picture the carefree look in the other’s face, but he wasn’t about to condemn it. He’d been paranoid again - which was natural considering his not so normal history with being kidnapped by all sorts of unique characters. But with Jack's ridiculous attempt at consoling him, he couldn't help but break into a shy smile.

“So… do you do this to everyone you invite over?”

“Only the good looking ones,” Jack replied casually with a suggestive nuzzle before gifting Rhys with a surprise bite to his ear.

“J-Jack!”

A snicker teased Rhys’ eardrums as his friend’s arms slid from his slim shoulders.

“Hahaha! If only you could’ve seen how stiff you got just now! Ahhh. All right, cupcake, I'm only messing with you. You can calm down now, but it is good to see you out of that gloom and doom mood you were wearing a second ago. I swear, you sleep better than most corpses do. Well, before you start with the whole tossing and turning thing…”

Jack jumped over the back of the couch with ease while sliding his arm back around Rhys’ shoulders, tugging the auburn haired man into him so that their sides pressed firmly together. Jack’s warmth enveloped him like a superheater while his musk made it difficult for Rhys to think straight. He decided to surrender, however, as he relaxed into his friend whilst inhaling soft breaths.

“I fell asleep?”

“You bet your sorry ass. I was bored the entire drive back. Because,” Jack’s arm then coiled around Rhys tighter, “-someone was too busy snoozing away in the back seat.”

Rhys eyed him in confusion before staring off to the side, doing his best to recollect the fragments of memory that he lost.

“Was I out for that long?”

“For ages. I could’ve finished a novel and made it a movie by the time you-” Jack noticed Rhys’ sudden wince, causing him to change tactics in his delivery, “I mean... you only woke up long enough to walk out of the damn air terminal before passing out again on the drive here.”

His voice had lightened up in its agitation but only slightly.

“Which was super rude, by the way. You should really consider making that up to me. After all, I am your hero.”

Desperate flashes of the security guard scalded Rhys’ vision as he slowly touched his neck for confirmation. Jack watched every motion carefully from where he sat. His eyes seemed particularly interested in other man’s throat as well. As Rhys’ fingers grazed it, he turned to Jack, as if wanting the older man to admit the unspoken. Though in reality, Rhys actually was at a loss for what to say.

“Something the matter, kiddo?” Jack’s eyes hadn’t wandered from where Rhys was still tentatively pressing at his skin in search of bruises.

Jack almost seemed entertained by it all as a smile creeped along side his question.

But Rhys reassured himself that Jack was only trying to help ease his nerves… He was his friend after all. A highly attractive, clever, and hot tempered friend but a friend nonetheless. And Rhys had already made the near mistake of attacking him out of pure paranoia. He didn’t want to mess up this new beginning when it barely even started.

“N-Not really… I…”

“Rhysie, what’ve we talked about before? If you’re gonna come down here with us, then you gotta be more open. We’re a team here, baby.”

A soft guilt curled around him much like his blanket did. Jack was right. Rhys couldn’t just bottle these things up anymore, but he didn’t want to seem like a trauma victim trapped in phony flashbacks either.  

“Did… something happen... at the airport?” he finally asked as he fiddled with the softness of the blanket.

“Did something happen? Like what? When those babes totally tripped over themselves to get a selfie with me?” Jack offered with a pleased smirk before, “Ooh, you were so jealous. I could totally tell.”

Rhys frowned at the accusation but moreso over the fact that he couldn’t remember what Jack was talking about. He could barely even remember what the inside of the airport looked like when he arrived.

“Or wait, wait, wait. What about that time my idiot sibling thought he was doing you a favor by waiting for your luggage, but I just stole you away to the parking garage. Ha ha! Tim was royally pissed, but it was so worth it. Wouldn’t you agree, pumpkin?”

“Um…” Rhys could sense the mood change but he couldn’t fathom as to why.

Danger pricked at his neck, causing the tiny hairs to rise in time with his anxiety.

“Ohhh… Now I know exactly what you wanna talk about.”

Jack had begun to lean forward with an expression of satisfaction far too attractive for Rhys to stare directly at as he quickly dipped his eyes downward.

It did little to prevent Jack’s advance as he was close enough to nearly press his forehead into Rhys’. His sensualized cologne made it even harder for Rhys to concentrate on his mysterious feelings of dread as another unwanted feeling coiled inside him - an inappropriate heat collecting in his groin. His knees shifted uncomfortably together, praying Jack wouldn’t notice how easily excitable he was.

“Rhysie, you’re referring to when you kissed me. You little minx, you. Honestly, I didn’t expect such boldness out of you, but hey, like hell if I’ll complain.”

Rhys’ face blazed as he tried to deny such a venture but partial flashes, awakened from Jack’s closeness, broke from the depths of his memory. He remembered being aggressively pinned out of view to the side of some random van, the traveling hands groping across his exposed skin, and the stimulating hand around his neck. Rhys’ eyes flicked up for just a moment to see his friend’s lips, instantly recalling the heat of that mouth on his own… for a very long time. And all while Jack’s hands experimented with his every reaction just as a musician would tune an instrument.

As erotic as the images and sensations were, however, the only crippling downside was that he couldn’t remember was how it ended.

Though it did little to distract him from the fact that he had made out with his friend/friend’s brother/ friend’s twin on the very first day. Rhys still couldn’t muster a single word to say. But at least the terror of getting attacked again seemed further and further away. The mystery of his injury was finally put to rest as it felt more like a nightmare rather than reality - especially considering Jack’s lack of mentioning it.

Which speaking of Jack…

Rhys flicked his eyes up to see the other man’s conniving smirk again before turning away once more in embarrassment. Had he really just made out with Jack? Why couldn’t he remember how it started? He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling more foolish by the second.

“Rhysie, what’s the matter? I didn’t take you to be the blushing bride type.”

“I-I’m not! I just… It was too soon. I-”

“Now, buttercup, don’t go breaking my heart and start telling me that you didn’t enjoy every last bit.”

Rhys chewed his lip, too mortified to answer. He had too many unanswered questions. How could he be missing so much information? Had the attack even happened? Did he make it up? Had he drank too much on the plane? He could have sworn he just had a single mixed drink to ease his flying jitters. Instead, he somehow blacked out. But that didn’t change the fact that his body was already aching to relive those very physical memories.  

Pieces were still pouring through which had him squirming where he sat. The taste of Jack’s mouth on his own. The press of his undeniable arousal into Rhys’ hip. The way Jack’s hands controlled everything, allowing Rhys the freedom not to think and be dominated only.

“I can tell you’re thinking about it right now… You know… if you want, I suppose we could let you have another taste.”

Rhys’ imagination went wild in attempting to determine what ‘taste’ that was as well as what Jack had meant by ‘we.’ He buried himself as far as he could into the couch, sinking low, as he tried to consider just how far they’d truly gone in that parking garage.

“All you gotta do is close those eyes and open wide, sweetheart,” Jack coaxed with a voice clearly meant for bedroom use only.

Rhys could feel himself melting away as Jack’s hand cupped at his cheek - up until an angry voice slit through the mood.

“JACK, that’s enough.”

Rhys abruptly turned to find Timothy storming in the living, carrying a dark washcloth as he furiously dried his hands. With stern look, incapable of forgiveness, Tim tossed the strange cloth at Jack - who deftly caught it without so much as a glimpse in his sibling’s direction. He seemed far too involved in ruining Rhys’ crumbling sexual barriers to care for anything Tim had to say at this point.

“Busy here, TimTams,” Jack answered warningly while instead tending to Rhys’ delicate jawline, “You can get your turn once I’m through.”

“T-Turn?”

Rhys tried to look between them but Jack’s hand kept his head firmly still.

“Or you could just give all his turns to me,” Jack suggested casually before taking a quick glance at the cloth in his hand.

His expression changed dramatically. His usual cocky grin dropped almost instantly while his gaze hardened on the cloth. He was entirely different. It was a look Rhys had never experienced before… and Tim was wearing it too.   

“I think you have some responsibilities to attend to,” insisted Timothy with a level of seriousness that had Rhys feeling nervous all over again.   

Jack’s usual demeanor was diminished just from that single statement.

“Are you sure about that, TimTams? Rhys and I were about to get well acquainted again and I just-”

“It can’t wait, Jack. I think your opportunity might’ve found the door.”

A grunt of disgust escaped the older man before he forced himself from his confused conquest - still shifting awkwardly on the couch. Rhys expected Jack to spit some sort of rebuttal, but surprisingly, Jack seemed to forget the two of them entirely, simply darting heatedly for what Rhys assumed was the front door.

It slammed indicating his departure which left Rhys even more confused and frustrated than he had been moments before.

---

I knooooow. I teased. XD But so far Jack is ‘winning’. I’ll see if Tim might get his chance in the next piece.

[myshipsalwayssink-fanfic-blog]

Spaces Between Us, Chapter 2

The only thing that surprised Fury was that it had taken her this long to track him down. Sure, he was holed up in an unregistered black-site, completely off the grid but one didn’t simply take something away from a woman like Melinda May and expect to have to wait two weeks before she came inquiring after it. And Agent Philip Couslon had never been just ‘something’ as far as she was concerned. The wreck of a woman standing in front of him proved that.

“Take a seat Agent May”. When she didn’t respond,he continued, “Come on, I know you didn’t break yourself out of that civilian hospital and travel across the country by yourself just to stand in my doorway”. Even in the darkened room, he saw the raw emotion flicker across her face before her eyes steeled over once more.

“Don’t play with me, Fury. You know what I want and you know damn well what I’d do to get it”. The effectiveness of her threat was slightly undermined by the crackling hoarseness of her voice. To her outrage, a small smile played across Fury’s lips.

”I hate to say it Melinda, but you don’t exactly look up to doing much of anything at all at the moment”. The unmistakable ‘click’ of a disengaged safety pin was all he got in response. Wordlessly, Fury kicked the empty chair across from him, sending it skidding to a halt in front of the shaken agent. “I don’t have him, Melinda, this isn’t coming from S.H.I.E.L.D”. He was expecting the warning shot that whistled over his head and didn’t dare so much as flinch as he held her gaze with a mixture of sincerity and pity. The words hung in the air between them, and the moment stretched almost beyond breaking point before her shoulders dropped and May sagged soundlessly into the chair in front of her. Taking a moment to study her, now that she had stepped forward from the shadows, Fury could see the effects on his colleague that no amount of intel he received over the past two weeks could accurately describe. Her run in with Agent Coulson’s mysterious captors had left her in a critical state in a nearby hospital. The rest of the team had not been harmed and he suspected her time spent in the frame work was the true culprit of her injuries. Muscles atrophied, airway damaged, starved within an inch of her life, the move that was probably meant only to restrain her dislocated both her shoulders and succeeded in nearly crushing her chest, and that was only the physical. She was no longer a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, both her and her team were lucky not to be publicly branded as terrorists but years of friendship and the weight of debts unpaid made his next decision for him. They may not be able to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. but there was no reason they couldn’t work alongside it.

 Fury’s words echoed through my mind as I paused hesitantly in the hallway of the cramped motel, before finally knocking on the faded blue door.

“��I may not be able to help Coulson but I believe you recently gained the responsibility of some people that I can…” Those words had decided it, after all it had been the final thing Phil had asked of me. Take care of our family. When the door finally swung open, Daisy stood in the doorway, looking at me with the murderous accusation I deserved for abandoning her before her eyes swam with tears and she flung herself unexpectedly into my arms. I let my own tears fall and held her as tightly as I could even as my body protested. Jemma’s pale figure appeared around the door frame and I quickly dried my eyes as she ushered us into the tiny room, where the rest of the team sat, divided between the floor and two small bed frames. The next few minutes were a flurry of activity that almost out-matched the long journey here. I found myself being pushed towards the edge of the closest bed, where as soon as I sat Jemma immediately began fussing with my bandages and the wounds I had left untreated over the past few weeks, I barely registered Elena whipping around the tight space until a cup of tea was pushed into my hands and Mack began a thorough briefing of their current situation and their movements in my absence. Pride and sorrow sent a stab of pain through my already aching chest; they had pulled together admirably but I could see the strain in each of them - could feel the weight of the atmosphere between a group of raw people barely holding it together. A wave of tiredness I almost forgot I was fighting washed over me and I was beginning to lose focus before a small voice from behind me snapped me painfully back into focus.

“You can’t just leave”. Daisy was still standing in front of the now closed door, her arms crossed defensively, fear and betrayal reflected in her large brown eyes, still burdened by tears.

“Daisy, please - “, Jemma began pleadingly.

“No Jemma, she’s right”, standing I turned to face them all, briefly meeting each pair of eyes that looked back at me, “I shouldn’t have left you like that, put my own grief ahead of what I know you’re all feeling, that’s not what Agent Coulson would have wanted and it’s not what I intended to do. This team is a family and families don’t abandon one another. We will find Coulson and we will keep this family together but first we need to take care of one another. I can’t take back what I’ve done but I - I -, my voice faltered as I met Daisy’s gaze, hot tears stinging the back of my eyes, “I can promise that from now on nothing will come between or go before my family”.

The rest of the night was short but peaceful. The young agents had been vigilant, even in the absence of a leader. Their nightly routine involved taking shifts in groups of two’s while the others slept and making supply runs at night as they attempted to lay low. I was glad security was still in their concerns, it was probably the reason they accepted my cautiously vague plans, devoid of any detail accept that they would travel at first light and I would explain everything I could then.

The next morning, I sat in the passenger seat of the mini bus Elena had ‘acquired’, as Mack insisted on driving. I explained as best I could, skipping over some of the more troubling details of how I came me to Fury’s safehouse and the equally unpleasant journey back. But the team were satisfied; I had returned with a set of co-ordinates and the promise of a new life, that if they played their cards right, would provide everything they needed to find Phil.

The night sky was paling into a new day when the bus stopped outside a tall set of gates, a pair of gentle hands shaking me awake as we arrived at was to become our new home.

 At first I was furious. Fury had sent us to the HALO headquarters, an organization that had made its business ‘re-purposing’ the talents of displaced special agents from a variety of agencies. They weren’t anywhere on a map because people didn’t need to find them, they would find the people they needed, regardless of whether those people wanted to be found or not - I should know, I’d recovered the bodies of enough former S.H.I.E.L.D agents to know how these people did business. But it soon became clear that he may be a bastard, but Fury was a smart bastard. New identities, secure lodgings and access to advanced technologies and systems most people didn’t even know about. His comment about playing our cards right had not been a figure of speech, this was a game we were all going to have to play if we wanted to get Phil back. It would take time but it was our best shot.

As we always did, the team adapted. We were each assigned to divisions that matched our skill sets, silently thankful our security levels didn’t clear us for active missions. The layout of the facility was not unlike a university, different buildings housing the operations of different divisions - and a large apartment block for the housing of new ‘residents’. As much as I disliked being kept on such a short lease, it kept the team secure and it kept us together. The spacious four bedroom apartment on the fifth floor didn’t take long to feel like home. We worked separately but returned each evening to share dinner and whatever intel we had managed to gather. It was on an evening like this, two weeks after our arrival, an impossible five weeks after the day that led us here, that I could here snatches of the groups laughter and rambling conversations from the kitchen through the small gap in my door. The uncontrollable trembling that had over-taken my body had nothing and everything to do with my collapse on my evening run. The jarring sickness had been building all week, I’d hoped the cool air might help clear my head as I set off on my usual route outside the compound. I hadn’t felt my legs falter beneath me and the hard shock as the pavement rushed to meet me jolted me back into awareness. Still, as I stood, a fresh wave of nausea overtook me and I was forced to lower myself back to the ground. As I sat there my stomach settled but my mind wandered, landing on something that forced me back to my feet as my chest constricted.

I made one stop on my way back to the apartment, declining dinner when I returned and retreating to the privacy of my room. That had been almost an hour ago and in that time - minus three excruciating minutes - my world had simultaneously fallen apart and come together again. I knew what I had to do, yet still, I remained rooted to my bed, the offending piece of plastic still gripped in my hand. I looked down at it once more, the results already beginning to fade and set it aside as I reached under the bed, pulling out the go-bag I had packed our first night here. It didn’t have much, some clothes, a weapon, cash but then again I didn’t have much else. Gathering up the packaging still strewn on the floor of the small ensuite she shared with Jemma, I stuffed it into the bag and hoisted it over my shoulder, slipping silently out the door of my room. At the end of the hallway, I paused but a shout of Daisy’s laughter masked the sound of the key turning in the front door before it clicked softly shut behind me. The weight that pressed down on me as I made my way out of the complex had nothing to do with the bag slung across my back. The guilt brought tears to me eyes that I didn’t bother rubbing away. Even though it would break a bit of me and possibly all of them, I knew that I was willing to break every other promise in order to keep this one. Because this wasn’t just my decision. It was the last thing he had asked me to do. Take care of our family.

AN: Thanks for all the lovely feedback! And sorry for the late upload, life got real life-y there for a minute. Feedback always appreciated x

[worldsentwined]

The Late Bus to Hokanniemi

Written for this week’s @synchronisedscreaming flash fic challenge. The prompt was:

Joona & Jonna - passing through liminal spaces

“Oh shit.”

Jonna looks up from her novel at Joona’s exclamation. “What?”

Joona is frowning at his phone. “I didn’t realize how late it was—we’re going to get stuck here if we don’t get moving. Dad’s going to be pissed at us.” He holds out the device to show her, and Jonna feels like swearing too.

“It’s not that bad,” she says as they pack up their bags and leave the coffee shop. “We still have plenty of time before the late bus.”

Joona grimaces. “Yeah, but the late bus is...you know. Kind of weird.”

He’s right, as much as Jonna hates to admit it. This isn’t the first time they’ve been late leaving the city for Hokanniemi, and they’ve spent more time on the late bus than either of them would like. They’ve seen things.

Everything seems normal when the bus pulls up to the stop. It usually does; there’s nothing mysterious about grungy, worn-out public transit, unless you look too closely at the stains on the upholstery. The twins manage to board and find seats without incident. They’re practically the only passengers. The other two—a tired-looking woman in a hospital uniform and an old man wearing three coats who seems to be asleep—don’t say anything.

And nothing seems odd when the bus first pulls away, either. It's not until it passes out of the city, into the space where there are no street lights, that things start to turn strange. It's the noise that changes, first. The bus engine's drone takes on a surreal quality, less complaining metal and more music. If she listens hard enough, Jonna could almost believe someone is singing. But then the bus hits a bump and the sensation shatters like glass.

The next odd thing happens when the bus stops to let on a new passenger. This is not unusual; there are a few far-flung hamlets between the city and their village, and only this bus to connect them. It is a little weird that this person gets on at a place where the bus doesn't usually stop. At least, Jonna's pretty sure it doesn't. She doesn't remember the lightning-scorched tree by the side of the road, and the signpost is so faded she can't read the name of the stop. But the person boards the bus in the unhurried way of someone who does this all the time. And the bus driver doesn't say anything, even when the person—Jonna keeps thinking of them as 'the person' because they're wearing some kind of furry hooded cloak that makes it impossible to tell anything else about them—pays with a handful of coins that echo strangely in the fare box. It's hard to look directly at the hooded figure. It's hard not to look. Jonna is glad she snagged the window seat, because at least she has Joona as a barrier when the person sits down in the row directly across from them. When they pull out a knife and a chunk of wood the size of Jonna's hand, Jonna forces herself to tear her gaze away. Even with her eyes averted, she can hear the rasp of metal on wood. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Looking out the window isn't necessarily any better. The scenery blurs together, and Jonna can't tell if it's her tired eyes or something...else...that's making the trees twist into clawed shapes. There are lights, too, strange glows that pop up and disappear before she can properly focus on them. Jonna is so distracted by those that she nearly misses the strangest sight of all. "Holy shit!" Joona's voice startles her out of her daze. "Is that...it can't be!" He leans into her shoulder to stare out the window. Before Jonna can ask what he's talking about, she sees it too: someone is running through the forest, keeping pace with the bus. Their gait looks...familiar. "Is that...that can't be Hannu."  It can't be, but it's either Hannu or someone who looks eerily like him. He's wearing weird clothes, too, a furry cloak an awful lot like the one the person across from them has on. And he’s not alone. Someone or something else is running with him, but their form is harder to pin down. Sometimes, Jonna could swear it's a snake, or a squirrel flitting through the trees. Other times, they almost seem to be swimming, or running on four legs. For an instant, Jonna is sure she sees Ville, wearing the same strange furry cloak as Hannu and the hooded figure, but a second later she's seeing the other Ville, Hannu's old dog. Whoever, whatever they are, Hannu and his companion are running faster than a human should be able to run. The bus isn't terribly fast, but even on his best day, Hannu wouldn't be able to keep this up. And they're glowing, too, the same weird light that keeps distracting Jonna from the trees. The bus rattles in time with their footsteps. The hooded figure's knife keeps shaving off curls of wood. Scrape. Scrape. Scraaaaaape.   The bus screeches to a sudden stop. Jonna almost flies over the seat in front of her, and Joona lets out an audible "oof!" as he smacks into Jonna's elbow. In the confusion, Jonna looks away from the window, and when she looks back, the spectral Hannu is gone. "Why did we stop?" she whispers. It feels like a bad idea to talk any louder. Joona shakes his head, but is saved from answering when the woman in scrubs rises and gets off the bus. Oh. This is her stop. Now that Jonna looks, she recognizes this part of the route. They'll be home in another few stops. She turns to Joona to say so, but gets distracted by what’s behind him. Or rather, what isn’t. The hooded figure is nowhere to be seen. All that’s left is a pile of wood shavings.

The weirdest thing about the late bus is that, no matter what happens, the world goes back to normal when the ride ends. Before they know it, the driver is announcing Hokanniemi and they’re getting out. The bus is just a bus; the town is quiet.

“Jonna! Joona!”

“Ugh. VILLE. What are you doing?”

Mostly quiet.

The twins turn to see Hannu and Ville emerge from the woods. Ville waves cheerfully, and Hannu scowls. For a second, it looks like they’re glowing—but no, they’d just passed through a patch of moonlight, that’s all.

“What are you two doing out so late?” Joona asks.

“Went for a walk,” Hannu says. “And I could ask you the same question.”

“We caught the late bus back from the city,” Jonna explains.

“The late bus!” Ville gives Hannu a look. “Isn’t that the one that has...you know...the weird things?” He shivers.

Jonna and Joona exchange a look of their own, and Jonna laughs. “Weird? You have no idea.”

[daddyrenn]

A Dangerous Thing

Summary: The well dressed mystery subway man has had his eye on you. You know what they say; curiosity killed the cat (but satisfaction brought it back).

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: Mentions of arousal and public acts of affection, but no actual smut

Pairing: Triplet!Kylo(assumed)x RC

A/N: So I wanted to apologize in advance for stopping before I wrote any actual smut. I started it a couple times but I couldn’t find it in my heart to, y’know, write the dirty (I haven’t been feeling well) and the fic seemed like it was at a good place to end. Just a little thing I’ve been turning over in my head, Thanks for reading, loves! Enjoy!

You’d seen him every day since you’d started taking the subway. For the past two weeks, you’d made brief eye contact with him once a trip, and couldn’t stop yourself from letting your eyes linger over his features. Though, you could hardly blame yourself. Maybe if he wasn’t so damn alluring. Tall, and broad. If you had to guess, you’d say he was near twice your size. He towered way over you, at least. Of course, it might have just been his presence that seemed to take up so much space.

And his face. That strong forehead, the nose that almost seemed a little too big for his face. A chiseled jaw that looked like it could cut marble. His whole face was framed by lusciously thick locks of raven hair. Then there were those lips- God, those lips. Full and pink and delicious; at least, you imaged. And oh yes, you did imagine. Pretending you weren’t soaking wet on your way to work was getting increasingly difficult.

Exquisite little moles and freckles dotted his pale features. You found the unsettling desire to kiss each one swirling around in the pit of your stomach.

You had no idea why he was even riding the subway. Every day he wore a different suit coat, made from materials that looked way too out of place on the dingy public transport route. His slacks were always perfectly pressed, and a different tie circled his thick neck every morning. The buttons on his jacket clung to each other for dear life. Keeping your mind from the gutter was almost impossible when his entire person screamed with thickness.

It began some time during the first week. After a few days of shared intimate moments of eye contact, you were trapped. You had to know him. With each passing day, you grew more emboldened, moving through the thick crowd of people a little closer to him. Some days, the crowd was so bad that you had to move your head around to try to look for him while at the same time, trying not look like you were moving your head to try to look for him.

And two weeks later, here you were. Standing in front of him, your back to his chest as you planned a way to start a conversation.

Man, socializing with hot people was harder than you anticipated.

You smoothed your skirt down over your thighs anxiously with one hand, clinging (just barely) to the handle attached to the roof of the car with the other. Every stop, it seemed, more people got on than got off, packing the sardine can of a subway tighter and, more than once, causing you to bump back against him. You’d mutter an apology when this happened, and shimmy forward. You glanced down at your watch.

According to your past observations, you had about five minutes left on this damn thing. Who knew how much longer he’d be here, out of place in this stuffy car that reeked of morning breath?

Suddenly, the car jolted to a stop and the metal ring you were holding slid out from your fingers. Before you could make a fool of yourself, most likely tumbling to the ground and taking a couple others around you down with you, two sturdy hands wrapped around your waist.

You fumbled back and, instead of falling on your ass, you fell back against a solid chest. You hands flew to cover the two holding your steady.

“Careful.”

Warm breath washed over your neck, tickling your ear. You looked up, the back of your head barely brushing against his pectorals. Whatever you were going to say died in your throat as you got your first up-close look into his eyes. They were downright gorgeous: a deep hickory, as rich as the earth’s soil. His irises glimmered with flecks of gold, the color of filtered sunlight on carpet.

And oh, God, he smelled intoxicating. Hints of fresh soap and a masculine cologne played around your nose, drawing you further into his grasp. There was almost an underlying sense of musk that made you want to bury your nose in his suit coat and never leave.

You fumbled around in your head for information on closing your jaw while he quirked an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk turning up one corner of his mouth. Something wicked glinted in his eye.

Some time during your distraction, the subway had started moving again. His hands had not. Though you weren’t sure if that was because your own hands were still atop his, or because he simply hadn’t wanted to move them. You prayed it was the latter.

Finally, some semblance of self-respect crawled back into your head. You jerked your hands off of his, and he took the hint. He dragged his hands off of you, his fingertips lingering in a way that made you fight openly shivering. Immediately, you missed the pressure on your hips. You looked back down as a heat flooded your face, turning your cheeks a rosy pink.

“S- uh, Sorry. About that,” you mumbled. A soft chuckle sent a wave of goosebumps down your arms. You crossed them quickly.

“No problem. Really.”

The subway stopped again; this time you managed to snag the handle without toppling into the stunningly gorgeous man behind you. A muffled voice on the overhead claimed it was your stop.

You paused.

Were you supposed to tell him goodbye? God, no. You shut that idea down quickly. If you looked back, you might not have been able to keep from throwing yourself on him.

Hot breath washed over your neck, the smell of fresh mint curling in your nose.

“A woman in a skirt is a dangerous thing.”

You couldn’t stop the shudder that stole down your spine this time, the only acknowledgement you would give to his… compliment? Warning?

With only a small stumble, you pushed through the throng of people and stepped out of the car, taking the first full breath since you’d gotten on the damn subway.

The encounter with your mystery man ran through your head all through work and on the subway ride home. You couldn’t even look at the place you’d been pressed against him without a blush overcoming your features.

Once home, you threw leftovers in the microwave, ate, caught a (cold) shower, and slid between your sheets, wondering what it would be like to slide between his. The thought drove a frustrated groan from your lips. You flicked out the lamp, turned on your side, and dreamt of his hands on your hips and his breath on your face all over again.

You found yourself tapping your foot and shifting your weight impatiently. The subway was running late. You crossed your arms. Then uncrossed them. Then smoothed the skirt of your dress down, tugging at a loose thread.

Anxiety curled in your belly like a cat. It had taken you fifteen minutes of chewing your lip and turning the same two thoughts over in your head in order to pick which outfit to wear. With a glance at your clock and the realization that you only had about ten minutes before you had to leave, you grabbed the dress in one hand and jetted off to change. You never got the chance to ask what he meant by his skirt comment. Now, you would find out for sure.

The subway screeched to a stop in front of you. The doors opened painfully slowly.

And there he was.

Today, he sported a jet black suit coat and beige slacks, with shiny dress shoes. A red tie sat pressed against his chest, pinned to his shirt by a silver tie clip. A wad of spit gathered in your mouth. He looked absolutely divine.

And those damn eyes of his were on you in an instant, drawing you near to him as your slid past at least six different people. The subway was more crowded than usual today. The smell of armpit filled your nostrils. One rather birdlike old woman perched on a plastic seat sent you a nasty glare when you nearly tripped over her foot.

You held his eye until you were right in front of him, and turned around. Your back was mere inches from his chest. You could practically feel his eyes tracking down your frame. A dark chuckle sounded somewhere behind you. A smile slid over your lips.

The subway doors closed and the car took off. An elbow dug into your ribs, and you shot the scrawny guy next to you a pointed look. He shrugged his shoulders, muttered an apology, and looked out the window.

That’s when you felt it.

A rough, warm hand wrapping around the front of your thigh. A shaky exhale fell from your lips. Four fingers pressed into your skin, the fifth drawing small circles against the fabric on your thighs.

“You didn’t listen to me.”

His voice was a purr in your ear, lulling you to lean back. The scuff of a shoe somehow caught your ear amidst the din of the subway. Then his chest was pressed against your back, his nose barely ruffling your hair while he scrutinized you.

Your heartbeat pulsed in your ears. Just as you were about to open your mouth to say something, his thumb slipped under the hem of your dress, his hand sliding dangerously up your thigh.

You failed to stifle a whimper, a pathetic little sound barely audible over the noise of the subway. The chest at your back rumbled with silenced laughter. The pads of his fingers were warm against your skin as they drifted closer to your pantyline.

“Do you know how hard it’s been?” his breath stirred the hair tucked behind your ear. “To keep my hands off you for so long?”

A shudder stole over your whole body. You reached back to fist your hand into his khakis. The timber of his deep, breathy baritone shot a jolt of liquid arousal into your core. Your nerve endings crackled with desire.

Something akin to shame simmered in the back of your mind; you didn’t even really know this man. But here he was, his hand under your dress, his fingers skirting just under the hem of your panties, all in front of the crowd on the subway. Yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him.

“We’ve got twenty-five minutes before you get off,” he purred. “I hope you know how to stay quiet.”