#fortune fate and firearms au

[rinniiart]

Spoptober day 27 - Disappointed Fortune, Fate and Firearms AU (AKA Cowboys) 🤠🐄

This needed a lot of work to actually show what the hell was happening. It got a glowup from the original spoptober sketch. 

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 18 - Trippin

Marc Spector&Co. x Ex!F!OC, F!OC x Modern!Miguel O'Hara

Summary: Everything changed after Marc and Simone moved to New York. Being in a relationship with the Fist of Khonshu proved to be difficult enough without the added obstacles of normal relationships being forced into the mix. With seemingly irreconcilable differences overhead, fate’s plans continue to drive the pair back into each other’s lives, testing their patience, self-control, and new relationships. Is it truly written in the stars, or is it old habits taking over?

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | Dark elements | AU/AT |   Warnings: Language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Effects of trauma in adulthood. Angst, reference smut, reference to non-dubious consent, mention of death, reference to violence, mentioned use of tobacco, lots of arguing, miscommunications, jealous!Miguel, small injury on a set of stairs, toy firearm use, Steven is yet again the sweetest individual in this series.

Words: 8K

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter List and AO3 saw it first!

" I appreciate you for your patience Even though I know it's runnin' thin I ain't tryna put you on the waitlist Maybe we were better off as  friends " -"Trippin" by EARTHGANG

It felt like  the  harder  Simone tried to sleep, the more impossible it became.  Fortunately, at an indiscernible time in the early morning hours , she drifted off into a light slumber .   The unfortunate part came when she was awoken  seemingly right away  by the buzz of her phone under the pillow  next to  her.

A quick examination of her surroundings remedied  the slight confusion she felt  in her sleepy daze: it wasn't some dream she could blink away.  She was indeed right where she thought she was, eyes undeceiving. Once she was re-familiarized, she pulled the cell phone into view of her tired eyes. It was Miguel returning her call.

Miguel apologized for not answering when Simone called the night before, claiming he had fallen asleep on the couch after a long day and woke up to a dead phone. An easy conversation about how strange and awkward everything was soon turned into a beat of dead air so silent you would think they lost connection.

"So, six more days?"  Miguel spoke up, breaking the hush.

"More than that, probably. We have to figure out what to do about this place."

"I'll be betting on at least a week and a half, then?"  

"Likely so. I'm sorry, I didn't think about that."

"No worries. Maybe I'll be down after to help with the house stuff."

Simone smiled at the suggestion,  elated  that he would  both make time for her and tolerate Marc in a time of need. Perhaps things will work out after all.

"We could probably plan that. Sounds nice."

As if Simone's morning couldn't get any stranger, she was overtaken by the smell of melted butter as she descended the stairs. With each step she took, she felt  more and more  anxious to take the next. She wasn't sure if she was ready to face  a full  day with Marc but breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the floor and heard humming that could only mean Steven was present. 

"Morning, darling."  He greeted her with a smile  upon spotting her  and waved the plastic spatula.  "Pancakes?" 

"Sounds great, thank you, Stevie," Simone replied as her bare feet patted the hardwood floors.  She couldn't help but reminisce about old  times;  watching him make a  simple,   yet   thoughtful ,   breakfast and coming up behind to wrap her arms around his middle, sprinkling dozens of kisses along his back.  

Those memories weren't lost for Steven, either  and  he half-expected to feel those arms caress him.  Once  he saw her take a seat at the table after she passed behind him, though, he knew it was a long cause. 

"Hope you don't mind my being here." He said, not sure what to expect as a response but was pleased to see Simone gesture that it was fine. This made Steven happy, even if it was wordless confirmation. "Marc needs some... rest, you could say. Not big on sleeping during the late hours, yeah?"

Simone watched as Steven flipped a pancake and listened to the satisfying sizzle of the batter hitting the hot cast iron. It hadn't crossed her mind before then how hungry she was, and she nearly missed what he was saying while focused on the rumbling of her stomach. 

"I know it. I didn't get much shut-eye either." She aimlessly replied, now running her eyes over the blue cotton tee and black and white plaid pajama bottoms he wore. She used to steal and wear that same combination all the time. 

"Weird being back?" Steven asked as he looked over at her.  His eyes  locking  with her own broke the trance  and  she diverted to the skillet  right away .  

"Weird being alone with you guys. No offense."

"No, no, I get it." He reassured. Simone looked back up and studied him  taking  a clean plate from the drying rack next to the sink. Mrs. Jacobs took care of them before she left the night before, insisting that we don't need to worry about it. "Bananas and peanut butter?"

He still knows what I like.  Simone thought to herself. She pursed her mouth to keep from grinning and gave him a nod but noticed he had already begun expertly spreading the chunky condiment onto one of the cakes with the back of a spoon. Her eagerness grew as he carefully placed slices of banana and stacked the three wonky-shaped circles on  top of  each other. 

Simone started practicing  how to say   thank you  in her head as the red saucer was placed in front of her, but somehow  all  she could manage was to mouth the phrase wordlessly before picking up the fork and digging in. "So, what are we to do with all of this?" 

The question mirrored Simone's thoughts from earlier, but she  wasn't going to  bring it up until a few days had passed. She knew better than to disrupt the mourning period with such things. 

"You guys take what you want  and  we can probably donate the rest. Maybe invite the friends over to take their keepsakes first?" She suggested with a shrug before shoving a forkful of decorated flapjacks into her mouth. It took a lot of willpower not to  make an audible  groan at how delicious it was.

"That could work." He said before sitting caddy-corner to Simone with his own syrup-smothered hotcakes.  They both ate  in silence  for a while, too busy with their mouths full but  also  not too sure what to say.  She figured there was no harm in discussing what she was considering during the dark hours.

"While we're taking care of this place, I  was thinking I could try and  find my mom."

"Yeah?" Steven questions, so  in shock  by the revelation that he nearly choked on his mouthful of breakfast. He held up a finger, signaling he would finish chewing before he continued and followed it up with a sip of creamy coffee. "You're not feeling guilty, are you?" 

Something like that.   She  thought to herself before standing and  making  her  way  to the coffee pot for her  own  cuppa.  

"I just don't want her to die and me not try to have a conversation with her, ya know?" She admitted. At first, she was looking at the man at the table but diverted her eyes the second the words left her teeth. It sounded insensitive and all too similar to the reason Marc felt so upset over his dad's death. It wasn't a call out, by any means  and  she hoped it wouldn't be taken that way. 

Though Steven knew Simone wouldn't intentionally poke that  bear,  and felt that Estefania deserved no loyalty from her daughter, he wanted to  be supportive of  her ventures.

"That makes sense. I could come with you, you know?" 

As always, Steven was proving to be more precious than she deserved. Once Simone was seated with the warm mug  cupped  between her hands, she made her stance clear.

"No, I need to face her by myself."

"You didn't let us face this alone , why  should you have to do that?" 

Because my mother may have hated me, but if she saw Marc with me now, she'd have a fucking conniption. 

"It makes the  most  sense." Simone tiptoed around the truth. She took a small sip of the black coffee before placing the mug onto one of the wooden coasters still sprawled along the dining table after the get-together from the day before. She loved and appreciated the half-eaten pancakes before  her,  but was suddenly not hungry. 

"But you're not alone, love." He said  in a reassuring tone  before tenderly taking her trembling right hand into his. It was a sweet, telling gesture. It told of a man who wanted to earn her trust again. Simone  just  couldn't count on that  and   she  pulled the hand away with a soft sigh through her nostrils. 

"Stevie, this isn't going to be one of those things where being stuck in a house together for over a week  is going to  make me and Marc miraculously rekindle. I can't forgive getting me tied with that damn bird."

Her words made Steven visibly frown, but that wasn't what he was doing all this for. 

"I understand that  but  it doesn't change that we— I —want to be there for you." He made quick work to correct himself. One, because he didn't want to speak for the others. Two, because he cared no more about their thoughts of this than he cared about their feelings towards the moon mark. He hated that he never said anything about it and felt it was time for some making up  to do . 

Simone's eyes fell into her  lap  where her hands retreated to find more picked cuticles and blood under her right thumbnail. She shook them out to halt the tick, missing Miguel's soft reminders to stop.

"I know. I'll think about it."

The rest of the day is spent doing more  sitting,  quietly ,  until about 3 pm when Moni needed a nap on the couch to make up for her lack of sleep.   It was around this time when Marc took back  over and decided to start the search for her mom.  

All he knew was that she was sent to an old folks' home due to the severity of her mental health and lack of treatment for it, as well as the absence of sound-minded people to look after her. Estie had driven them all away.

He sat at the dining table with his phone in his hand, sifting through a Google search of the facilities in the area and calling each number as quietly as he could muster.  Through several ten-minute holds and a series of 'No, we have nobody here by that name' in different voices, he realized he would need to expand the search.

A loud, long honk of a car horn  was what  pulled Simone from her slumber. She wanted to be angry at this stir but couldn't help but giggle at the  phrases that followed .

"Learn to drive, jagoff!" 

"Yeah? Where'd you get your license? Sears and Roebuck?"

The argument caused her to scramble onto her knees and peer through the shabby curtains to find a car that had most certainly run a stop  sign,  and another  car  halted. While no accident had occurred, the classic Chicagoan road rage had taken off.  She  found she  recognized one of the individuals as someone she  when  to school with.

"Huh. Ricky Tenanbaum's still around." She spoke aloud to herself before a  hm?   from  behind her made her realize she wasn't as alone as she thought. A quick look back revealed Marc at the table, intently scrolling. After Simone asked what he was up to, he told her that he had called every retirement home in Chicago  as well as  a couple in Rockford but still had no luck. 

"Don't worry about that right now, Spector." She insisted as she treked to the table, now sitting in the seat Steven  sat  before.

"I'm just trying to help. What else am I supposed to do?" Marc asked, gesturing to the still home surrounding them. She understood not wanting to become encumbered by traumatic thoughts of his boyhood.  If her education taught her anything,  it's that you should  by  all  means  take your time with acceptance, but it only gets more difficult the longer you wait.

"Have you been to your room yet?" She asked, knowing the answer already.

"No."  

"I'm gonna go check it out." 

"I'll stay here." 

"You'll have to go up there at some point when we start gutting this place," Simone stated the obvious, hoping to get through to Marc how much it's going to suck, even if he holds off. "You afraid it isn't what it used to be?"

"I'm afraid of it being exactly how I left it." 

Though Simone was trying so hard to not put pressure on him, she realized it might not be a heavy  push,  but tender  comfort,  that he needed.  Just as  Stevie did earlier, she took Marc's hand to let him know he wouldn't be unaided.

"Let's go." She spoke softly, nodding her head towards the staircase. He understood what he needed to do and silently agreed.

They  walked slowly , side-by-side  up  the stairs, neither  one  dropping the other's hand. Though Simone would never admit it out loud, it felt right. Just like old times, but not the old she chose to forget. Much older, like the children they used to be. 

Once they  made it to  the bedroom door, Marc's hand was sweating around hers, and his knees had grown weak. Fear of the unknown had taken hold  and  he was too afraid to open the door himself. A brief squeeze of his hand told Simone everything he needed to say, and she took charge, using her opposite hand to turn the knob for him.

The door creaked loudly on the hinges and resonated through the quiet landing to reveal the very same room they both remembered, unchanged from childhood.  The sight of  books, knick-knacks, old toys, and furniture collecting dust was almost a relief to Marc, who started stepping into the room before Moni to look around.

As her eyes darted around the room, she passed up dingy Transformers and the shelves they sat on to lay hands on a relic she spotted in the nearly empty closet. Brown leather  now  a tad wrinkled with age,  it  was none other than her old bomber jacket. 

"Fuck me, that's impressive." She laughed as she pulled it from the wire hanger it resided. It stirred up an  air of  undisturbed closet smell as the familiar heaviness rested in her fingers. "Nearly two decades  and  this old thing  still  looks stylish."

At this, Marc's attention was pulled away from the old posters he admired. 

"Holy shit! I always meant to give that back." He said, joining Moni by the closet. The coat conjured an image in his mind of the woman who held it now, wearing it as a kid. It was always far too big but kept her warm for years, up until the day he borrowed it. It was once her father's, and it was one of the few items of clothing that wasn't feminine she could get away with wearing because of that fact. As if Moni read his mind, she took a deep breath. 

"Sometimes I forget he's dead." She spoke absently as the memory of her first birthday without her father arose. The feeling of abandonment followed. He may as well have been dead long before he passed. "I guess never calling your only child while doing time in federal prison will do that." 

Marc watched as the face of wonder and curiosity wore off and was replaced with an expression he knew all too well: disappointment. Her arm extended to put the coat back where she got it.

"Oh no, you're taking that with you." Marc protested. 

"Like  hell,  I am! It fits you better than it did me." She replied, now thrusting it in his direction. "You take it." 

It was then that Marc spotted the plastic handle of an old Nerf gun poking out of the basket next to him.  Without wasting a second,  he went for it quickly and pointed it at the woman before him.  Did he know for sure it had anything in it? No, but Moni didn't know that either.

"Say you'll take it  or   you're getting  a foam dart to the forehead." He threatened playfully. Last time he held one of these, the main rule was to not aim for the face  or  you could take an eye out. He was far better with far more dangerous weapons these days. Moni's jaw dropped,

"That's not fuckin' fair! I'm unarmed!"

"Take the jacket, Moni." He attempted to speak sternly and cocked the plastic firearm for effect. Simone knew he would do it, but she refused to give in if it was the last thing she ever did. Especially now that it has become a game to him.

"Not. A. Chance." She spoke slowly, annunciating each syllable. 

Marc realized it was about as good a time as any to find out if the thing was loaded, took aim, and squeezed the bright orange trigger, causing the sound of the spring-loaded suction bullet to announce as it shot. Moni held the jacket up over her face for protection and heard the foam bullet bounce off of the leather with a thud before it fell to the floor.

"You missed!" She shouted before throwing the coat in Spector's direction and bolting through the bedroom doorway. Without dropping the toy, he let the outwear fall to his feet and took off after her. 

Laughter and false screams erupted from Moni's throat, clearly having fun as she went down the stairs as quickly as she could muster. Somewhere in the  middle;  however, she lost her footing and tumbled down the remaining steps. Marc watched as delight turned to pain when her head smacked one of the wooden stairs.

Without a second thought, he tossed the toy back into the room and rushed to her side. 

"You alright?" He questioned, clearly panicked. Simone felt like her brain had been shaken up as pain bloomed above her left temple, knees, and elbows. She attempted to pick herself up from the floor but was nearly pulled up against her will before she could make the effort. 

"Fine, just gonna bruise." She explained as her hand found the knot forming on her hairline. She stumbled again, clearly rocked, as Marc helped her to the sofa. 

"I'll get some ice." He told her once she was seated.  All he could come up with was  a bag of steamable frozen peas, but it was better than nothing.

Simone didn't want Marc to make a fuss over her. After all, nothing was broken, and aside from a possible skidded knee, no skin was open. Still, she couldn't help but watch  admiringly  while he doted on her and muttered expletives into the freezer, failing to find an actual ice pack.

Must've hit it really hard.  She  thought to herself, finding the thoughts to be out of place.

Upon returning with the peas, Marc knelt down in front of her and brushed his thumb gently around the bump, as well as studied her eyes for signs of a concussion. "No nausea, dizziness, confusion?"

"No, not really," Simone answered as she took the bag from his hand and placed it on the affected area. Absently, Marc put his hand on it as well. For a moment that felt like an eternity, she didn't protest.

This is how it's supposed to go, right? We take care of each other.  She thought, silently grazing her eyes over each line that made up the  face  she knew so well. Loved, even. He was still handsome as ever—it didn't take sexual interest to recognize that—but being so close to him again made her brain feel like it was short-circuiting. 

It was  just  like that night in the office, his mouth mere inches away from hers. That was before she knew the truth, and as the thought took over her mind, disgust pooled in her stomach  and  anger flared in her eyes. "I got it." She insisted sternly, shooing his hand away. 

Visible confusion filled Marc's face, wondering how she could go from hot to cold in  a matter of  seconds. The more he stayed in place, pondering it, the more pissed off she began to appear. "Don't look at me like that." She nearly snapped. Marc stood,

"Well, don't act like I'm just supposed to pretend  like  I don't feel the way I feel."

"I should say the same to you!" She spoke with an unbelieving tone. "You keep looking at me like I'm supposed to  just  accept what happened. Forgive and forget."

"Fuck, Moni, I didn't know!" Marc stated, throwing his hands in the air.  He knew he had said it a dozen times  already , and when she rolled her eyes at it as always, he knew it would fall on deaf ears again.   "He said you would be protected  and  that  felt like a good enough reason."  

His explanation still wasn't satisfactory as Simone stood from the couch, squeezing the bag of peas so hard it popped open, and green pebbles scattered and clacked on the hardwood floor. 

"You should've known there was a catch!" She barked.

"I'm sorry." He said. Marc  was  sorry that he didn't look into it further, blindly trusting the untrustable, but he wasn't  sorry  for thinking it was the right thing to do at the time. Seeing right through this and knowing he was telling her what she wanted to hear, Simone scoffed. 

"Apology not accepted. I don't have an ounce of forgiveness in me for you. I'm only here for your dad, and the second our business is done here, I'm done with you again. Understood?" 

They stood staring at each other for a  minute  solid, unmoving  except  for blinking eyes. There was a time not long ago when a moment like this would be broken by knocking the throw pillows off of the couch and engaging in mindblowing sex.  The look in Moni's eyes this  time ;  however,  gave away that her mind was far away from that conclusion.  A very different face than the one she wore moments ago.

"I understand," Marc replied calmly with a hint of chagrin.  It seemed Moni was  pleased with this response and pivoted around to head upstairs but was stopped dead in her tracks once again when the man failed to hold his tongue. "I  understand  that you seemed pretty ready to forgive and forget in my office the night we  talked about  this. You showed me right there that you miss it as much as I do, but you're not ready to  talk about  that."

The thought of turning around and knocking him upside his head flashed in her mind. His words were like a lit match to the kerosene in her veins. It wasn't the fact that it happened, it was the fact that she went into that office pissed at him  and  the second she crossed that threshold, it was gone . Like  a spell. 

The so-called  moment  happened  as a result of  the mark, and she was sure of it. The bodily autonomy she worked so hard to grasp? Gone the second she was in his domain. That wasn't all on her, and she refused to accept it as so.

"Alright, mate. That's enough." She heard Steven speak from behind her in Marc's stead, having forced his way out to stop any further discourse. Without looking back, Simone disappeared back up the stairs.

While Simone sat sulking in the bedroom, she listened to the distant discussion downstairs. Did she want to fight with Marc right now? Not at all, but she would be damned if  she  were to apologize for standing her ground. Still, she knew it would all go  a lot  smoother if they tolerated one another.

She was lost in her  own  thoughts enough to miss the footsteps growing closer to the bedroom door she sat next to but was pulled away by the soft thump of Marc's forehead resting against the wood.

"I wish there was a way for us to just be okay. Be friends again." He spoke through the barrier. Simone's sinking feeling deepened at the bummer she heard in his voice. 

"Marc, I don't think we could ever  just  be friends." She responded, not bothering to hide her frustration at a fact that he  also  believed in. "Fuck, I don't know that we were, to begin with." 

It  sounded awful  in her own ears. After an entire childhood of telling everyone around her that they were  only  friends, nothing more, would she really accept it now? Simone expected Marc to get defensive, but the slight snicker from outside confirmed that he had his suspicions as well.

"Just a couple of kids who didn't see what everyone else seemed to see. That makes sense." He spoke tiredly, possibly just trying to avoid another fight. She didn't have it in her to change her mind or disagree. It was exhausting. 

A long pause weighted heavily on Simone in the bedroom by herself. She  thought about  inviting him in so they wouldn't have to speak through the walls, but felt it was pointless. The door didn't lock, and it was his house. As it would turn, Marc would beat her to it. "Can I come in?" 

At first, she nodded to herself before remembering he couldn't see her.

Yes.   She  then thought to herself before remembering  he  couldn't read  her  mind. 

"Yeah." She finally spoke aloud. Marc entered the room slowly, unsure what  he could  find upon opening the door. He found her sitting on the floor with her knees to her chest and her back against the wall. He nearly held out his hand to help her  up ,  but thought better of it and joined her, leaving a wide birth between them. 

Is this how it'll be the whole time?  He wondered silently.  Why does it have to be so hard to  just  get along? 

From what he could make out in his peripheral vision, Moni hadn't been crying  or anything , which made him feel a little better. He ran what he wanted to say to her a thousand times over in his head, but it was caught in his throat like a lump of peanut butter. Her silence spoke volumes for her, though, and  told  him she wouldn't be speaking until he did.

"You know, I...  I don't know how to fix  any of this  or make any of  it  right.  Seems like when I try, I screw it up even more."  He spoke softly, losing  the words he originally intended , and improvised something close.  

Of all the things Simone wanted to say in response—kind, harsh, half-truthful—she tried to land somewhere in the middle and stand on business without picking another argument.

"You can't expect me to just suddenly overlook the bullshit and fall in love with you again." The words came out  a lot  sharper than she planned, and to Marc, they hit him in the chest like daggers. She hated she could feel the pain of her own words but couldn't tell for sure if it was hurt she felt for  herself,  or the connection between them causing her to feel what  he  felt. 

"Ouch." Marc voiced the ache.  "Hearing you say you don't love me anymore solidifies it , I guess ."

"I mean, it's not that I don't-" Moni spoke up quickly  then  stopped, unsure of what overcame her and why she felt compelled to correct herself. " Obviously  there's love for you, or I wouldn't be here." 

"And you have that love for Miguel now?" He asked, feelings unclear over whether he wanted to hear the truth  or not . He kept his eyes away from her face to avoid catching her if she lied. 

Was she happy? Absolutely. She considered the word  love  with Miguel in mind and had chewed on it several times already. Maybe the problem was it felt so different this time that it was unrecognizable. Still, as far as she was concerned, it was none of Marc's business.

"Everything with him is still new, Spector. Love is a stretch." 

What drove Marc crazy was that it wasn't a simple  no . He chose not to dwell on it, afraid of hearing what he didn't want to, and  chose  to veer off course.

"He just seems so boring  but  I guess it's normal that you want." 

"Right.  Normal ." She said sarcastically. To her surprise, he didn't seem to pick up on the tone, too lost in his  own  thoughts. Her eyes stayed glued to her  socks;  dark blue with a pattern that she supposed was supposed to look like sushi rolls but instead seemed like colorful blobs.

"If I left all this behind, would that make  something  right between us?" Marc asked with a hint of hopefulness. Though Simone still wanted to avoid a fight, she found the question laughable and couldn't keep a snicker from escaping her nose.  In her mind,  he already knew the answer and was wasting his time asking.

"You couldn't leave being the fist of Khonshu behind. It's ingrained in you now."

"I might if you gave me a reason to." He replied. Amusement was quick to bubble into irritation  and  she felt her neck tense up. 

"I thought I did a long time ago." Simone spat but followed the outburst with a deep breath. In retrospect, Marc knew it was a dumbass thing to say. She was right.

This time, a prolonged quiet blanketed the room  and  the thought of the photo downstairs clouded her mind before she cleared her throat. "Your dad wouldn't want us to fight. Like on that fishing trip, you accidentally knocked me off the boat, and I  swore  you did it on purpose." 

"You didn't talk to me the entire ride back, and then once we were out of the car, you tackled me to the ground."  Marc chuckled at the memory of himself bending over to reach into the water and almost losing his balance, trying to grab something to stabilize himself and Moni being the closest ,  but  also  unsuspecting ,  victim.  

Before either of them could think, he heard a splash from the other side  and  his friend was nowhere to be found until her head popped up above the water. Dark, tousled strings of wet hair stuck to her face  and  her hat floated next to her as she coughed up water she accidentally breathed in.

"I was so pissed to be riding back in soggy clothes.  The whole time  I  was  thinking   'I'm gonna beat the brakes off this guy when we  stop '  and I meant it, too!"  

"Dad had us stick our noses in opposite corners until we apologized and hugged it out." 

"Just be glad it wasn't my mom who witnessed it. Would've been belts to asses." 

They laughed for a good while  and  once it died off, they  found themselves finally looking  at each other. Though they were much older now, the children they were resided in their eyes and recognized one another instantly. Sadly, their newer, more mature facial features were quick to overpower them.

He's just too pretty.  Simone thought to  herself,   involuntarily,  before she remembered why she was sitting on the floor in the first place.  Get ahold of yourself, Fredrick.

I'd kiss her right now if I didn't know better.  Marc's mind mirrored, knowing if she could hear his thoughts, she would kick his ass. Luckily, she couldn't, and if his mental images were all he had  left;  so be it.

Both of  their inner monologues were interrupted by a loud rumble that could only be a hunger signal from Moni's stomach. Neither of them had eaten since breakfast, and it was nearly dinner time  at this point .

"You know what we need? Tacos from that place on Howard." Marc suggested as he stood up, holding his hand out to help her  up . She took it and brushed her palms over her butt and legs while he pulled out his phone to call for food.

The tacos were delivered  and  they started chowing down immediately, both seated at the table and not speaking.  As much as Simone wanted to attempt conversation, she was disheartened  by the fact that they only ever  seemed to get along when they  weren't  talking to each other.  Her internal strife was eventually overpowered by her need to break the awkward silence.

"I could move back here just for these." She said mostly to herself. This statement perplexed Marc, having heard her say every negative thing one could say about Chicago. 

"You  actually  mean that?" He asked curiously before putting the final bite of his fifth taco into his mouth. Simone  was only trying  to make conversation and didn't expect the grilling, so she shrugged.

"I mean, I don't know." She started, realizing she might not have been truthful. Though the carne asada with cilantro and onions would forever be in her heart, she could get good tacos almost anywhere. "I hate this place and everything we went through here." 

When she felt relieved of the question, she leaned back in the wooden dining chair, running a trimmed nail between her teeth to pick out a stubborn bit of steak that had jimmied its way in there.

"You know, I thought about it," Marc spoke, hoping Moni had not given up on the subject  entirely .

"About what?" 

"Asking if you wanted to move here instead of New York." 

At the mention of this, Simone suddenly  had a  hankering  for a cigarette. There certainly would have been enough crime for him here, but she knew  he  knew better than to bring it up.

"You know what I would've said." 

"You would have asked if I was out of my fuckin' mind." Marc chuckled, which made Simone laugh along with him. It was a gratifying sound, them finally agreeing on something. Once it ended, she changed the topic.

"I'm stuffed." 

"I bet. You just smashed eight street tacos." Marc began, having only had five himself with a few left over. "Where'd you put it all?"

"Do you want me to say that it goes to my rotund ass? Because that's probably true." Moni joked.

And a nice ass it is.  Marc thought to himself before realizing it wouldn't be wise to say anything aloud that would be in agreement. They were getting closer to being okay  and  the last thing he wanted to do was say something stupid and ruin it when it  just  barely began.

Though Simone felt the same, she couldn't tell if she wanted him to make a comment about her butt joke or not. She brushed it off as a feeling of wanting attention she didn't need and let it go as  easily  as she let go of the hardy gut laughs they had shared together.  She  missed this. She missed him. It terrified her.

"We could  try  the friends thing." She blurted out just as the idea entered her mind. It seemed to catch Marc off guard, and he tilted his head in confusion. It was a very different tune than she was singing earlier. "It sounds a lot better than me hating you."

Hearing Moni say it out loud made him realize what he had said before was a blatant lie, even if he didn't catch on  at the time . The word  'friends'  in reference to their relationship stung deeply. He, again, didn't want to ruin  a perfectly good  moment of getting along. 

"Wow. Didn't think you'd come around so fast." 

"It has to work correctly, though. No being buddy-buddy with ulterior motives." 

In other words, no hanky panky.   She  thought.

"Moni, I just want you in my life again. I don't give a shit how." 

Another lie, and this time, Marc could tell she noticed with the doubtful look in her eye. He expected to be called out on it but  ended up proceeding  to speak before she could. "Did I tell you how much I appreciate you  for  doing this?"

"Don't worry about it. You'd have done the same for me." Simone trailed off at the thought, knowing she may need him sooner than either  of them  thought. " Will  do the same for me. There's a possibility she's already dead."  

"How'll that make you feel?" Marc asked.  Moni rested her elbows on the table and her chin on her palms, familiar with  the technique he was using .

"Are you shrinking me?" 

Marc met this with a snicker and a shrug, 

"Just wanting you to talk to me." 

Simone didn't think very fondly of her mamá by any means. The woman was as much to blame for the torment she endured as a youth as her uncle was. Estie opened the door for her  own  daughter to be ripped apart by her peers, the church, everyone. Her mother—the one person left on the planet Moni was supposed to count on—refused to protect her.

Knowing what she knew now after years of education, she knew her mother had severe religious psychosis, and she knew not to blame someone for their psychological issues. Simone felt her mom was the one exception to that. She used to hope against hope that her mother would miraculously die, crossing her fingers that it would solve her problems.

Now, after  coming back  and being forced to think everything over, she was ashamed of those thoughts. 

"I would feel like shit for waiting this long." She finally answered after what felt like forever of debate with herself.

"Like I do?" 

"So you're here out of guilt?"

"I guess so. What does it say in your books about that?"

"That you really  are  human, after all." 

"Oh, joy. I was beginning to have my doubts." Marc quipped back at the snide remark, which garnered a laugh, but he wanted to get away from the subject of himself and back to Moni's feelings. "So, if we find out that your mom's dead, then what?"  

"Figure out what they did with her remains , see  if a last goodbye is possible." 

"You gonna cry?" 

"Fuck you!" Moni shouted with a giggle and false offense, meeting his shoulder with a playful backhand. 

Their moment of peace among each other would end just as soon as it began when Simone's phone  began  ringing from her pocket. The song  'The Joker'  by Steve Miller Band grew louder once she pulled the device out and saw it was a video call from Miggy, whose name in her phone was affectionately changed to  'Space Cowboy.'  "Shit, I gotta take  this " She announced as she began to stand up to take the call outside.

"It's okay, you can answer it," Marc said, idly placing his hand on her back to stop her. "Pretend I'm not even here." 

For a moment, Simone hesitated and felt a rush of panic overcome her before a sense of calm. She had nothing to hide from either of them. Any other time, she would have bitten Marc's head off for the intimate gesture he  committed,  but noted the understanding in his eyes as he removed the hand and thought better of it.

She placed herself back in the dining chair and brushed her thumb over the green button to answer the call, feeling immense delight when the face of her affection appeared on her screen, thankfully wearing his glasses in case Marc happened to see.

"Hey, what's up?" She greeted with a million-dollar smile.

"Not much, I actually started looking into where your mom might be, and I believe I got a hit."  Miguel began, sounding confident. Marc couldn't help but cross his arms sternly at his words, feeling a hint of jealousy that the other man made more progress.  "There's an Estefania Fredrick at Greenhurst Retirement in Aurora. Ring any bells?" 

"That's probably her. Send me the details; we'll look into it." Simone responded, still smiling. Miguel's, on the other hand, seemed to falter.

"'We' as in?" 

"Marc and I. We've been looking, you know."

"Right."  Miggy's tone grew cynical.  "You and Marc." 

How he spoke puzzled Simone and caused her to feel slightly concerned. She attempted to save the mood.

"I  really  appreciate you using your resources to check on this, Miggy. I do." 

"I guess I just assumed we'd go at this together." 

"You're still welcome to help , the  more the-" 

"No,  no  it's cool."  He interrupted, vocal inflection revealing that it was clearly  not  cool.  "I have a lot of work I have to do, anyway. Let me know what comes of it." 

This wasn't a direction Simone was expecting this call to take by any means, and she couldn't stop the tightness in her chest that came with her rising anxiety. She felt embarrassed taking this call in front of Marc now as if she had been putting on a ruse and was being exposed in real time. She refused to look in his direction for fear of him seeing right through her.

Marc knew the envious man's attitude well. It spoke of insecurity and doubt, and he would  be lying  if he said there was no reason for him to feel that way. Even then, he didn't appreciate how he was speaking to her as if she had already done something wrong.

If he isn't scared yet, he's about to be. 

"Hun, really, I want you to help." Marc heard Simone say, the pet name pulling him out of his thoughts before he realized it wasn't directed at him.

"I did, but you obviously don't need me for the rest  of it ." 

When Miguel said that, Moni began to stand up and head toward the stairs, being sure to avoid Marc's gaze  who  would  surely  find how nervous and frustrated she was. She felt she  would be able to  turn the tide if she continued without an audience. 

"Maybe not, but I'd like you to be a part of this. It seems like you wanna be, also. It's fine." 

"Don't do that." 

"I'm not  doing  anything," Simone said defensively, tilting her phone  a bit  towards the ceiling as she walked to capture as little of her frown as she could. 

"He was back there when you answered, wasn't he?"  Miguel asked, clocking the fact that she was moving. She didn't see the significance and rolled her eyes,

"What of it?" 

In her distraction, she  didn't notice  Marc following her at a distance, feeling the need to stay nearby and growing irritated with the  man,  himself.  Given how highly Moni spoke of Miguel,  this felt like a  major   fall from grace.

"Just seems sketchy that you'd take my call away from him now." 

"Why are you being like this?" Simone questioned, hands becoming visibly shaky now with agitation. The possessiveness was annoying her.

"Simone, you really can't blame me for being concerned.  You act like this is  a  normal  thing  for people to do  and  I can't help but feel like there's something shifty happening."  

"So  now  you wanna tell me you have a problem with this?" Simone nearly shouted. "If you're so worried, come make a shiva call. See for yourself." "Nope, he's absolutely  not  welcome here. Not a chance, Moni." Marc finally spoke up. This caught Simone off guard  and  she whipped around to find him taking a couple steps closer. She wasn't sure who to disagree with now as his name barely left her mouth before being cut off by an equally pissed Miggy.

"Moni ?" The old nickname that only Marc used spewed from Miguel's lips like sludge and sounded just as disgusting.  "That's fucking hilarious."  "That's enough of that," Marc said cooly before swiping the phone from her hand and pressing the end call button before his face fully registered on the camera. Simone didn't realize what he had done until she successfully took the phone back and saw the face of a woman with rage seeping from her pores staring back at her on the black screen. 

"Why would you do that?" She asked unbelievingly, the only sign of Miguel being the candid photo of him on her lockscreen. She was  sure  that would be the final straw for them.

"You might be okay with him talking to you like that— which,  you  shouldn't  be—but as your friend, I'm not." Marc stood firm.

"As my  friend ?" Moni spat in a way that told Marc she didn't think friendship had anything to do with it. She stomped up the stairs and back to the bedroom once more, closing the door with a ferocity  that was  near slam territory. 

From inside the bedroom,  Simone sat in front of the door, barricading it with her back for lack of a lock.  She tried to call Miggy back, whispering to herself as she heard it ring and ring before going to voicemail.  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

With the phone pressed to her ear, she leaned her head back and hit it hard enough to rattle it on its hinges. She tried to call  once more , but it only half-rang this time before going straight to voicemail. "Fuck!" She roared into the open air.

Though Marc couldn't take it back now ,  and admittedly wouldn't if he could, he didn't care  for  how stressed out she was  acting  over it.  He wondered if he was too hasty. 

Of course not. The guy's an asshole.

"Moni?"  He spoke her name in the form of a question  upon hearing her exclaim the expletive as he stood outside the bedroom door.  The shadow  that was  shown through the crack told him she was directly in front of it to avoid him. 

"Just leave me the hell alone." She replied with a heavy exhale. She was pissed, and it wasn't his right to tell her she shouldn't be. It got under his skin how desperate she sounded to get back in touch with Miguel  and  it reminded him of how she sounded when she yelled his name in the face of Jake after he retreated with no sign of coming back.

The sound of shuffling feet grew further away after Simone expected more  pushback,  but didn't receive any. 

"You're being childish."  She typed  out  a message to Miggy, feeling her stomach lurch as her thumb hovered over the little 'send' button. The fear of only making it worse overtook her and nearly caused her to erase the text, but the sound of his  condescension,  when he repeated her  nickname,  echoed in her brain. 

Simone sent the message without another thought to spare and stared at the bubble until the 'delivered' receipt changed to 'read' with the time following it. The sight made her crave the taste of burning tobacco and that sweet sting in the back of her throat, but going back downstairs surely meant crossing paths with Spector, and she had had her fill of him for the night. 

I shouldn't have come here.   She  thought before tossing  her  phone. The device skated across the floor and disappeared under the  bed  where she heard it hit something solid. Out of curiosity, she got on her hands and knees and retrieved her phone to use as a flashlight, investigating to find a wooden box. 

Is it rude to snoop through dead people's belongings?  She thought to herself.  Nah.

Simone had to reach  pretty  far under to get a good grip on the container to pull it out. The caked dust made her nose itch  and  she questioned the last time a broom touched this portion of the floor, but she was successful in its retrieval.

In her hands was a dark-stained, heavy chest with golden hinges and clasps with the word 'Memories' etched into the face. Simone ran her fingers over the letters as she  questioned opening  it, feeling the rough woodburn. It was beautifully made, likely the work of Mr.  Spector,  himself. The click of the clasps coming undone made it all the more satisfying.

Inside was an unorganized metric ton of old photographs, and as she picked them up and examined them, she realized why they were hidden away. Most of them were of Mrs. Spector, some of her alone, some with her husband, some with Marc, some with Randall, but she was happy in all of them.

Simone realizes she hadn't seen Marc's mom smile  at all  during the last few years she was in Chicago when she saw her at all, which was rare. She had forgotten what it looked like. Mr. Spector put all these away, likely after Randall passed. She closed the box back up but didn't put it back where it came from before climbing  up  into the bed for another night of sparse sleep.

[kokomochi]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃 | 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮

"𝙞 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙢𝙮 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚."

SOULMATE AU! BONTEN TIMELINE! they say that soulmates were typically connected through the red string of fate- some believe that they are connected through tattoos appearing on their skin, or even a timer on their wrist. in this story, however, is through glowing hair. bonten's executive, haruchiyo sanzu, never thought that he would be soulmates with the youngest sibling of the notorious haitani brothers.

07. protective

it's known to many how loyal sanzu haruchiyo can be, and how quick he is to stab you in the back as well if you defy his master- sano manjiro.

so it shouldn't be a problem to see him be loyal to his soulmate, haitani y/n. but you know what they say- old habits die hard.

however, the moment sanzu stepped into the club along with kokonoi hajime to grab a quick drink, he immediately started to shoo away many women who tried to approach him.

as cunning and psychopathic he may seem to others, his loyalty shouldn't be questioned.

despite meeting y/n just two days ago, he had the feeling of needing to protect her from any harm that may cross her path- that means from him as well.

"it's weird to see how quickly you can change." koko muttered as they sat at their usual table, just without the women flocking over them.

sanzu just hummed as he continued waving off any possible suitors.

"what made you say so?" he said nonchalantly, twirling the cup of rum in front of him.

unbeknownst to the two, the group of women that sanzu had shooed off were having their own conversation.

"have you noticed that strand in his head? it has become completely vibrant!" one of them said, glaring at the (h/c) lock that was mixed in with his strawberry ones.

"who might this stupid wench think she is?! stealing our dear haru away from us!"

kokonoi overheard the table- i mean who wouldn't, they were just two tables away from them. and they were bad at whispering.

his black eyes went over to the man of the topic, who was still busy twirling his drink as he stared at it with a blank look.

"i bet his soulmate is a whore!"

"that's too low for our dear-"

a cock of a gun was heard, making them look up to sanzu, who had a pissed-off look from his face, different from the ones he usually had when he was out killing.

his blue eyes glared at them, making the women huddle together as fear enveloped the five of them.

one was brave enough to try and have a conversation with him, clearing her throat as she mustered up a very convincing innocent look.

"s-sanzu we were just-" all four women screamed when their friend was shot in the head.

kokonoi was just watching the scene as he continued drinking his shots, slightly bothered about the mess that his friend created.

"you were comparing my dear soulmate to the likes of you, weren't you?" he said, words cold as ice.

"you were trying to group her with you whores- someone who sleeps around for money and drugs." sanzu cocked the gun again, aiming it at the girl closest to him.

he waved the firearm in front of the three, before sighing and dropping his arm to his sides. his actions caused koko to raise his brows at him, wondering what his next move was.

"i regret to inform you whores that i already have met my soulmate." he dramatically dropped beside them, pushing the corpse off the couch as the three women looked at him with unease.

"we haven't known each other for too long but, one thing is for sure-" he raised his gun again and shoot the woman next to him.

"you will never be in her league." with that, sanzu finished off the other two, before walking back to koko who handed him a handkerchief to wipe off the blood splatter on his face.

they were fortunate that the owner of the club was actually haitani rindou, and there weren't many people inside except for sanzu's usual whores.

the bartender was quite used to this scene, having to call out his men to clean up the mess sanzu created as he served him another drink.

"you really need to keep your mess down low sanzu, we can't keep paying ran for the damage expenses." kokonoi sighed as he watched people wrap the bodies away and cleaned out the stained walls.

"it's not that much damage- we'll only be replacing the chairs that's all."

koko rolled his eyes at how careless sanzu was and let the situation be.

"anyways, now that you know y/n's your soulmate, are you planning on changing her gift?" he asked, making sanzu look up to him as he tilted his head.

the strawberry-haired male paused for a moment, then nodded.

"i already bought stuff." he replied.

"what is it?"

"a ring." koko's eyes went wide at the mention of the jewelry, slamming his hand on the table as sanzu kept looking at him blankly.

"don't you think you're going too fast?!"

the male hummed in confusion.

"she's my soulmate, is she not? we're bound to get marry someday so why not now?"

"yeah but normally-!"

sanzu cut the male off by putting a finger on his lips, shutting him up.

"that's the problem, koko. we're far from normal. i'm a wanted man with many on my head- she's a woman who's related to one of the most dangerous siblings out there."

"if you look at it that way, we barely have time. now that she's got a soulmate who's also dangerous, she'll become a prime target. who knows what could happen."

this was the first time that kokonoi hajime has seen the sanzu haruchiyo so serious. maybe the alcohol was taking effect- which is definitely most unlikely since sanzu was known for having a good tolerance to alcohol.

"before i die or something- i at least want to marry the woman the world has given me."

koko was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in before finally speaking up.

"i understand, but when are you planning on proposing?"

sanzu grinned at the male and looped his arm around his shoulder, bringing him close and telling him about his plan.

when sanzu was asked before what his thoughts on soulmates are, his answer was always the same.

"they're a waste of time and money."

but now that he has met his, he wouldn't be against spending his last dime to make y/n happy.

TAGLIST: @minnieminnie00-got7 @lonnie19 @royal-shinigami

[whitesparrows97]

A Thousand Springs – Part 30

Pairing: BTS x Reader/OT7 x Reader

Warnings: Little bit of angst, swearing

Genre: Soulmate AU, fluff, smut, angst, fantasy

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary: Life is short. Eternity is long. Why you in particular are approached by a super attractive man in a club, you did not understand. You understood even less why he wanted to kill you. Fortunately, seven young, also incredibly handsome men show up to help you with this little problem. Purely by coincidence, of course. Or do you really believe in fate?

Word Count: 5.7K

Previous / Next

(picture credit: photograph by Mok Jung Wook for TIME Magazine)

Tick. Tock.

Tick. Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

That was the only sound you heard in the spacious bedroom – and you were about to throw the small analog clock that stood next to you on the nightstand out the window. 

If only the window wasn’t locked and you had no way to open it, except for a tiny gap to at least let a little fresh air into the stuffy room. You were sure that it was multi-paned and it wouldn’t break even if you threw the chair or the small dining table that stood in the middle of the room against it. 

You had actually tried it, but the only thing that had happened was that the metal of the chair leg had bent slightly. That and the unspeakable noise you had made that still left your ears ringing. 

A glance at the annoying clock told you that you hadn’t moved from the spot in three hours. 

After your conversation with David, you had asked to have time alone, and surprisingly, he hadn’t objected. Two men had brought you to this room and after you had briefly looked around for a way to escape – there was none – and had vented your anger at the window, you had lowered yourself onto the edge of the bed. 

On which you were still sitting now. 

You had no strength to get up or lie down. Your eyes hurt, but you could no longer cry. You were at your limit for the day. And instead of the deep sadness and disbelief that had flowed through you in the first moment at David’s words, you only felt empty now. 

As if in slow motion, you turned your gaze to the side until it eventually landed unfocused on the door to the bathroom. When you were led into the room, you had looked in there to see if there was anything you could use as a weapon. 

But there was nothing, absolutely nothing. 

Unless you wanted to defend yourself against the firearms of the others with shampoo bottles and a hair dryer. 

Not even a razor had they given you. No glass container you could break and use the broken glass to defend yourself. Nothing. You were defenselessly at the mercy of the others and had to put up a good front. 

Your face contorted in pain and you tried not to cry as you fell backwards onto the bed. 

∞ ∞ ∞

You had fallen asleep.

You realized this a few hours later as you sat up slowly and with great effort. Your clothes were sticking to you. The same clothes you had been wearing all day yesterday. You had been sweating all night and you grimaced as you pulled the material of your long-sleeved shirt off your sweaty skin. 

You felt disgusting. 

At first you had hoped expected that you wouldn’t be able to remember anything in the first few seconds after waking up. That you would be confused as to where exactly you were. Only to be overwhelmed by a wave of sadness a few moments later, when the memories of the previous day came back. 

But that was not the case. 

Instead, Jungkook was the first thought that popped into your head. He probably hadn’t even left you in your sleep. In the shadow of your dream, you thought you still remembered blood. The expressions on the men’s faces was something you would probably never forget. Even if you wanted to. No wonder they hated you so much. Taehyung had actually been kind with his words, compared to what you had done…

You dragged yourself to the bathroom, your bones aching from the uncomfortable position you had spent the night in. They craved hot water, but no matter how much you rubbed your skin, the nauseating feeling that surrounded you remained. 

It didn’t get any better when you opened the closet doors and saw all kinds of clothes you didn’t want to wear. Just the thought that David had picked them out – touched them – made you shudder. 

But you couldn’t slip back into your old clothes either. 

They were sweaty and dirty and, and this also sent shivers down your spine, they were no longer lying next to the bed where you had carelessly thrown them. 

Someone had put them away. 

Someone had come into your room while you were standing in the shower. This someone had also brought you your breakfast, which was lightly steaming on the small dining table. Your stomach immediately turned when you saw this. You couldn’t think about food now. 

You paced up and down the room. Where yesterday you had only been exhausted and weak, today you could not sit still. Eventually, however, you gave in when your hair was only damp instead of dripping wet and you began to freeze. You slipped into the most comfortable and baggy clothes you could find and buried yourself back under the covers in your bed. 

Your bed. 

That was not your bed. It was David’s, what he had chosen for you. Even the paintings on the walls were chosen especially for you. You tried to look at them as little as possible. It was strange how well and at the same time not at all he knew you. 

You didn’t move when you heard the key in the lock, but buried your face deeper into the pillow. Nevertheless, you had your ears open and took in every little sound behind you. 

Cautiously, footsteps approached and it took all your willpower not to flinch and continue pretending to be asleep. Maybe then David would leave you alone. 

But unlike what you expected, it wasn’t his voice that followed, but a woman’s. 

“Miss Y/L/N.”

You winced at that and wheeled around. A few feet from your bed stood a woman, dressed in black jeans and a tight red sweatshirt. You noticed the color combination right away. The men who had accompanied you to this room yesterday had worn similar clothing.

Your gaze slid down her body. She didn’t seem to be carrying a weapon, but on the other hand, she would hardly come to your room unarmed. Even if you had nothing with which to defend yourself. Or could even muster the strength to get up from that bed.

It seemed like she noticed your gaze because she smiled briefly at you. “There’s a guard outside the door.”

She didn’t need to say more, you knew what that meant. As soon as she made a sound, the guard – probably armed – would come to your room.

“Please, you have to eat something. This is an order from Mr. Woo.”

You tried not to roll your eyes and defiantly cross your arms in front of your chest like a child. “I’m not hungry.”

“Would you like to eat with Mr. Woo? I can go get him if you want–”

“No!” you interrupted her, shaking your head vehemently.

The corners of her mouth twitched up suspiciously when she heard your expansive reply. “Then I would ask you to eat the lunch I just brought you.”

Bitch. 

You threw knives at her back with your gaze as she slowly moved away from the bed and finally left the room. 

∞ ∞ ∞

It was in the morning of the next day that the man first came into your room. You had again expected the woman who had brought you your lunch and eventually your dinner, but in her place a man, about in his late thirties, knocked on the door before entering the room. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” he greeted you and gave you a curt bow. 

You were still sitting – or sitting again – in the bed. There wasn’t much else to do within the few square meters. You eyed the man and weren’t quite sure, but you believed he had been the one who had pulled you out of the car yesterday and brought you to David. 

You did not greet him. 

He rose and looked at you with a serious expression. He took a few steps toward you and finally stopped just short of the bed, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“Are you settled in so far?”

You snorted in reply and averted your eyes. 

“Okay,” he replied long-drawn out and seemed to consider for a moment. As if he hadn’t expected that answer. Idiot. “Mr. Woo wants to talk to you.”

“I don’t want to see him.” Your voice sounded rough because you hadn’t used it in almost 24 hours. 

“He will understand that.”

Oh, really? Somehow you could hardly imagine that. David and understanding, those were two words that couldn’t stand together in the same sentence. 

“He sent word that as of tomorrow–”

“I don’t care,” you interrupted him harshly and your head snapped up to him. He must have seen something in your gaze, because instead of starting again, he closed his mouth and nodded. “Is that all? Then I wish to be alone.”

“As you wish. Miss Y/L/N.”

And with those words, he bowed again before leaving the room. For the next few days, you didn’t see him again.

∞ ∞ ∞

Finally, on the fifth day, you had made a decision. 

There were two knocks on your door, but unlike the last few days, you were already awake and had been waiting for the middle-aged man. He, on the other hand, seemed surprised to see you standing in the middle of the room, curtains already drawn to let in the early morning light and dressed ready to go. 

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N.” He hesitated for a moment before stepping into the room, the woman following him with the serving trolley. Dishes clinked on it until she pushed it to the one-person table. 

“I want to talk to him.” 

The man raised an eyebrow questioningly and smiled kindly at you. “Who, Miss?”

“David.”

You didn’t feel like playing games, and you were sure the man knew exactly who you were talking about. You didn’t know anyone else in this damn mansion, who else would you want to talk to?

The woman exchanged a quick glance back and forth between the two of you before bowing and taking her leave, leaving you alone with the man. You still didn’t know his name; or any of the others’ names. The man took a step back and clasped his hands behind his back. “I regret that this is not possible at this time, M’am.”

“Why not?” You took a few steps toward the man and saw his arm twitch. A small movement, but you had noticed it and you knew exactly which way his arm had moved. For a split second, your eyes slid to the gun strapped in his holster.

Two meters in front of him you stopped. 

“I think I didn’t make myself clear, sir,” the word dripped with venom as you said it, “I don’t care what your instructions are… Tell David I want to talk to him. Today.”

The man nodded. “I understand that, M’am, but Mr. Woo is out of the country at the moment.”

“Out of the country?” Your voice sounded hysterical and an octave too high. “Where is he? I thought he was at the mansion?”

That would at least explain why you hadn’t caught sight of him for the past few days. Not that you would have wanted to before today. But David usually didn’t care about your opinion anyway. 

The man sighed and was silent for a moment while he considered. Probably how much he was allowed to tell you. 

“You’d better discuss that with him.”

And without another word, he bowed briefly before turning on his heel and walking out of the room. With a soft click, the door fell shut behind him before you heard the now all too familiar sound of the key in the lock. 

You stood speechless on the spot for another moment before your eyes fell to the small dining table. Reluctantly, you walked over to the table and dropped into the chair in front of it. Your gaze slid over the numerous options of fruit, pancakes, scrambled eggs, toast, and cereal. But your attention lingered on one item and your heart began to race. 

It had taken five days for them to make a mistake. 

Five days since you first felt some hope. Something other than sheer hopelessness. 

You wondered if anyone would notice when the dishes were picked up and the fork was missing. Still, you took the risk because you had no other choice. You hurried to eat and then hid the fork in your nightstand. 

∞ ∞ ∞

They hadn’t noticed. Or they hadn’t let on. Maybe it was all a trap to lull you into a sense of security. Or a test to see how much you listened to them… and if they would ever let you out of the room again. 

Because you still hadn’t been allowed to leave it even once. 

In the meantime, you had lost your sense of time. You had stopped counting after nine days, and now you didn’t know how many days ago that was. It could have been the day before yesterday, but maybe it had been over a week. 

You took so many naps in between because there wasn’t much else to do in the room that sometimes you would wake up in the middle of the day and not know if you had only slept a few minutes or had missed the night. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken the battery out of the clock, but its ticking had almost driven you crazy. By now you almost missed the sound, because now you heard nothing at all. It was dead quiet in the villa and except for the three times someone brought you food, you had no social contact.  

But you couldn’t call that social contact either. 

Most of the time the young woman came and she didn’t even really look at you, she just wordlessly put the food down for you. And the man with whom you had had your nice conversation about David, you had not seen again since then. 

You knew, however, that someone was standing guard outside your door. 

Twice a day you heard muffled footsteps and low muttering, a shift change as you suspected. But you had no way to check, because the door was always neatly locked anyway. 

You hated it here.

And you hated David.

With each passing day this hatred grew, even though you hardly thought it possible. And you missed the others… you didn’t want to admit it to yourself – and maybe that was the real reason you had stopped counting the days – but with each passing day, the hope that they were looking for you faded a little more. 

But maybe it was simply impossible to find you. David had so many men and had planned everything so well that it would be difficult to find the villa. You could be anywhere in the world. You wondered, if they were really looking for you, when they would give up the search. Whether they had already done it...

The sun was just starting to set when suddenly there was a knock at the door. 

You frowned. You had already eaten dinner and weren’t expecting anyone else tonight. And usually the woman came straight into the room after knocking once. Now the door was still locked.

“Come in?” you said hesitantly, and sure enough, you heard someone turn the key in the lock. The door swung open and at first you were so surprised that your mouth fell open.

David stepped into the room, his typically three-day beard was definitely older than just a few days and his hair was combed back, careless. You immediately noticed how tanned he looked. 

His gaze held yours as he closed the door behind him and the sound broke you out of your stupor. 

As if possessed, you stormed towards him and stopped breathlessly just in front of him. 

“You–How could you?”

David’s eyes widened slightly, as if surprised at your outburst. But you knew better that nothing surprised David. He had every option figured out, in every situation. 

Still, slight wrinkles of astonishment now formed on his forehead. 

“Well, that’s a stormy welcome,” he remarked, and his voice made you even angrier. As if his words were the firewood he threw into the fireplace, whereupon the flames blazed high. 

You took another step closer to him and briefly wallowed in the satisfaction as David took a small step back. 

Before you realized what you were doing, you had slammed your palm against his chest. 

“I’m sitting here locked in this room for God knows how long, and you’re going on a nice vacation for a few weeks?” You couldn’t believe it. Once again you smacked his chest. “Did you just bring me here to rot on my own? Is that your plan? Do you hope that if you just isolate me as much as you can, I’ll want to spend time with you someday?”

A smile had spread across David’s face and you lashed out, just as Hoseok had shown you all those months ago, to slap it off his face. But David’s reflexes were quick and before your fist got anywhere near him, his fingers had encircled your wrist. 

“Take a deep breath first, Y/N.” 

But you didn’t even think about it. 

You squirmed in his grip, trying everything to get your hand free. But with each passing second that you resisted, his grip grew stronger. 

“Let go of me.”

David stayed calm and got a hold of your other hand, the one you’d been trying to use to pry his fingers from your wrist. 

“Calm down, please.” David spoke calmly, quietly, and you even thought you heard a bit of alarm in his voice. It wasn’t a command as usual you realized, but a request. 

“The hell I will,” you spat back at him, now fighting his grip with your entire body. 

You seemed to surprise him with this, because as you threw yourself forcefully to the side, his fingers loosened and you managed to get free. 

Without thinking, you sprinted towards the bedside cabinet. You saw the fork lying in it before your inner eye. If you could just manage to get to it, you would shove it right in between his–

You barely made it to the end of the bed before two strong arms grabbed you from behind. You cried out – in surprise and hysteria – but David didn’t let that stop him. He held you tight and pressed you against his chest. You tried to kick behind you, but your feet only hit air and after a few times you finally gave up. 

Only now did you hear David speak. 

“Hey, shhh… Y/N, it’s all good… I’m here.” Quietly and soothingly he talked to you.

And that’s when you noticed that you were sobbing. Hot tears were running down your face and if David didn’t hold you, the hard sobs would shake you. Your hands hurt because you had clawed them tightly into David’s forearms. Whether out of disgust that he should let go of you or because you needed something to hold on to, you didn’t know. Probably a mixture of both. 

“It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” he continued to whisper in your ear. 

Seeing David again had triggered something in you, as if he had loosened the plug so that the water was now just pouring out of the barrel. The last weeks, however long it had been, you had been able to repress well what had happened. But seeing David again now reminded you painfully of your last conversation.

You didn’t know how long you stood there like that, only that your whole body ached when David finally let go of you and carefully walked you to the bed. Weakly you landed on it and your gaze was unfocused on the light marble floor in front of you. 

David kept his distance, finally, but you felt his eyes on you. You didn’t have the strength to lift your eyes, though, let alone speak. 

His clearing of his throat finally broke the awkward silence between the two of you. 

“This isn’t the best time to talk to you about this,” he began, almost hesitantly, “but we don’t have much time. Our flight leaves the day after tomorrow.”

That did make you look up. Shocked, you sought his gaze.

“Flight?” Your voice sounded weak, your throat scratched, and you grimaced at the uncomfortable feeling spreading through your throat. 

David nodded and took a step toward you. He squatted down in front of you and tried to reach for your hands, but you managed to pull them aside. They fell onto the bedspread beside your thighs. 

David sighed and lowered his own hands again. “You don’t have to pack, the others will do that. I was thinking we’d spend the day together tomorrow, then you won’t notice any of the mess.”

“How nice of you,” you muttered wryly. The shock was still running through you that you seemed to be leaving the country. “Will I at least find out where we’re going?”

“It’ll be a surprise.” David smiled at you. A disillusioned smile, as if he was happy to treat you to a short vacation. But you were sure this wouldn’t be a vacation, nor would your stay be short. 

You wondered if this would be your life from now on. Always on the run from those David hated the most. 

And from those, you loved the most. 

∞ ∞ ∞

The next morning started stressfully for you. 

You were torn from a deep, dreamless sleep, or rather shaken awake. Confused and sleepy, you opened your eyes and blinked at the bright light falling through the open windows. Someone had pulled the curtains aside so that the morning sun hit your face. 

Normally you loved the sun and the early morning hours. When a new day dawned and you could see the men again after the night; if you had slept alone at all, which had become rare in the last weeks. But for two weeks (or was it three?) you had learned to hate it. 

It meant spending another day in this prison. Along with people you couldn’t escape from. And knowing that tomorrow you would leave this mansion put a stone in your stomach. You had hoped so much to be able to set foot outside, outside of this room. But that it would be with David, and three guards walking behind you, you didn’t expect. 

Although, you did expect it, but you were hoping for something else. Namely, that the seven men would rescue you and take you back to their villa.

It was like a punch in the face and you staggered for a moment on your way to the bathroom when you realized that you had made the same mistake again. You had thought of them as seven again, even though that was no longer the case. The seven no longer existed, there were only six…

You felt sick all of a sudden and quickly rushed to the toilet and barely managed to lift the toilet seat before your dinner from yesterday came back up. Or the little that was still left of it and has not yet been digested. Hot tears ran down your cheeks as you brushed away the disgusting taste in your mouth. But the disgusting feeling inside you remained. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” you heard a woman on the other side of the bathroom door speak. “I put something out for you to wear, Mr. Woo insisted.”

You snorted disdainfully when you heard that. As if David was your mother, putting out clothes for you to wear to school like she used to do. 

You dragged yourself out of the bathroom. The day had just begun and yet you felt limp as if you had been on your feet for days. Sure enough, there was something hanging from the closet that hadn’t been there before, and with pointed fingers you lifted the red fabric of the tight dress. 

“He can’t be serious,” you muttered, taking a few steps back in disgust. 

He couldn’t be serious about you putting this on. The day could be beautiful and sunny, you wouldn’t put on a dress. David wouldn’t see you like that. Dressed up. Made up.

No. 

Instead of the dress, you put on loose pants with a t-shirt and hoodie. You looked at yourself in the mirror and checked carefully if you could see the fork you had secured in the waistband of the pants. You practiced a few times the right moves to pull out the fork as fast as you could and stabbed in front of you. On the fourth try, you got the hang of it. It left a sinking feeling in your stomach. 

A little later after your breakfast, David picked you up. He greeted you with a joyful smile, his beard neatly trimmed again and his hair styled as you knew it. 

“Good morning!” His smile faded for a brief moment when he saw what you were wearing. “Don’t you like your dress?”

“It’s not my dress,” you returned bluntly, crossing your arms in front of your chest. 

David sighed, but dropped the subject, which surprised you. Instead, he made a sweeping motion toward the door. The first time you’d left the room in weeks, if only with David and his flock of guards. But it was progress. Even if you left the mansion tomorrow and nothing you saw outside would help you to know where exactly you were, it was better than sitting in that room staring at the four walls. 

“Where are we going?” you asked as you walked down the stairs. 

David laughed softly behind you and you saw out of the corner of your eye how he held his arm out behind you. Like he was making sure you didn’t fall. Or that you didn’t run away, a soft voice whispered inside you.

“We’re going for a walk outside, get some fresh air.”

You laughed coolly and stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh so I can clear my head?” You turned to David angrily. That he was so deliberate, so calm, upset you. You would love to smack every smile off his face. How could anyone be so deluded?

David came to a stop in front of you. He looked at you silently for a moment before reaching out his arm and turning you back around by the waist, walking with you toward the front door. You froze. His hand was dangerously close to what you were hiding under your t-shirt and sweater. He only needed to change his position slightly and his fingers would bump against the metal. 

You ran a little faster and pushed his hand aside. Hopefully David would attribute your reaction to your hatred and disgust towards him. Even if that was true, that was the least of your worries right now. 

You didn’t know what David would do when he discovered the fork. Would he just take it away from you in disappointment and send you back to your room? Lock you in there until tomorrow? Or would he get angry? You don’t think you’ve ever seen him angry toward you. Annoyed, yes, but never truly angry.

Except that one time when he’d lost control of that woman at the mall and she’d attacked you. But that hadn’t been him directly either. And if you were to believe him and he really hadn’t choked you… You shook your head, unconsciously reaching for your neck. You couldn’t let David do that to you. That he was getting inside your head, so that you no longer knew what was reality and what was just manipulation by David. What else was in your mind that David had tampered with? Could you even trust yourself anymore?

You were sure that the men no longer did. The fact that they still hadn’t found you proved that they didn’t want to have anything more to do with you. And you couldn’t blame them. You hardly managed to look at yourself in the mirror. The incomprehension and hatred was too great, against you and especially against David. 

David had manipulated you. And he had done it thanks to Chin Ho and your trust in him. You were not really to blame, you knew that. But still you felt guilty. It only showed again how you couldn’t stand up to someone like David. 

The thought came to you and unnoticeable you reached for the metal in your waistband to check if it was still in place. David was fast and strong, and he had centuries of experience in fighting and self-defense. It was clear to you that the only way you would be able to fight him was by surprise. 

As you stepped outside and felt the light breeze on your skin, you briefly closed your eyes. Greedily you sucked in the fresh air that lifted some of the fog in your brain and made you feel like you were able to think clearly for the first time in weeks. 

You felt the gaze on you and when you opened your eyes, you deliberately ignored David. As you walked toward the back garden, your eyes darted a few times toward the gate at the end of the driveway. It was well over two hundred meters long and at a quick count you saw twelve people patrolling. Plus the three who were walking behind you. Even if you could somehow take David down, there would still be his people. 

Take him down.

You resisted laughing at yourself. You were aware that the most you could do was hurt him. He was immortal, what would a tiny little fork do? But maybe it would be enough to hurt his eyes, so you had time to escape. The walls were high, more than twice as high as you, but if the adrenaline pumped through your veins, maybe you would manage to climb over that tree–

“Are you looking for an escape?” David snapped you out of those very thoughts. 

His observing gaze was on you, but you found no aversion in it. On the contrary, a relaxed smile was on his lips. Again the brief impulse to raise your fist ran through you. 

“I can understand that.” 

He nodded toward a bench that stood in front of a large rose bed and settled down on it. You hesitated briefly, but then lowered yourself onto it as well, with sufficient distance. From here you had a view of various shrubs and flowers, and behind them you could barely get a glimpse of the facade of the back house. When you turned around you noticed that the guards had disappeared from your field of vision. But behind all the plants it was difficult to see where they were. One thing was for sure though, they probably weren’t far. 

“You probably feel like a prisoner,” David snapped you out of your thoughts again. You hadn’t even noticed how your gaze quickly scanned the surroundings again, slightly panicked. Hurriedly, your gaze slid back to David. “I know what that feels like.”

You snorted. “You don’t know anything, stop telling me that over and over.”

David leaned forward on the bench and instinctively you held your breath.

“But I know how you feel. Always have known.”

“Then why are you doing this when you know how it feels?”

David was silent, only averting his gaze after a few seconds and instead letting it roam over the green space in front of you. 

“We’re the same,” he finally said, with a tone that left no room for interpretation or contradiction. “Like two sides of the same coin.”

“That would be nice. At least then I’d never have to see your face again.”

David gave you a brief, cold look. “Don’t make me angry, Y/N. You don’t want to experience that.”

Challengingly, you leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. “And what if I do want to see that? What do you do then?”

“Y/N–”

His answer was interrupted by a loud bang. Not only you, but also David flinched hard. Immediately your head snapped in the direction of the driveway. 

David jumped up after a brief moment of being frozen and the three men who had accompanied you came out from behind one of the bushes.

“What the hell happened?” David’s voice sounded harsh, clipped, and he had pulled his shoulders up slightly tense. 

“Someone blew up the gate to the property,” came the matter-of-fact reply from one of the men. You saw how he no longer carried his rifle relaxed in front of his body, but held it firmly in both hands. Ready to shoot at any time. 

David cursed. “Someone? Or them?”

None of the other men answered. Or dared to answer. You saw them shoot fleeting glances at each other. But that was enough of an answer for David. 

He wheeled around to you and for a very brief moment you saw sheer panic in his eyes. Then he had regained his composure, hiding his emotions behind a mask of cool calculation. 

He turned back to the three men, who looked uncertainly back and forth between the two of you as they waited for David’s instructions. 

“You come with me,” David ordered, looking at one of the men, “you two stay with her. No matter what happens… her safety is your first priority, understand?”

The two men who were to come with you hesitated. 

“Do you understand?” asked David again. One of the two men nodded hesitantly.

David clicked his tongue before stepping forward so that he was standing just an arm’s length away from the group. 

“I said,” he began, and your arm hairs stood up at his voice. 

You knew what he was doing. It was as if the air around you was changing, shifting, and even though David wasn’t speaking to you, you noticed how your focus unintentionally adjusted to him and his voice. 

“You will keep her safe, regardless whether it costs your pathetic lives. You will do everything you can to keep them from getting their hands on her. Understood?”

This time, the answer was immediate. A simultaneous euphoric “Yes, sir” echoed through the garden. 

David cast a quick glance over his shoulder at you. “Don’t worry about it, Sweetheart,” he said with a brief, strained smile, “this won’t take long. And then we’ll be rid of the problem once and for all.”

And with those words, he and one of the other men disappeared in the direction of the villa.

Written 2019-2021. Do not copy, translate or repost without permission.

Hmm, I wonder who that might be? Also, do you like the banner? We’re nearly at the end of the story but I thought it was time to leave using gifs behind. (I’m so looking forward to editing every chapter 🤡)

As always, if you enjoy reading my stories, please leave a reblog, a comment or an ask. It means a lot to me and helps me with motivation. Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe everyone.

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 73

DISCLAIMER: This is a modern AU crossover story with Outlander and La Femme Nikita. LFN and its characters do not belong to me nor do those from Outlander.

SYNOPSIS:  The violence continues in The Triangle and Claire finds herself in dire straits as several hostiles are menacing.  Fortunately, Jamie disobeys orders and comes to her assistance when she is trapped in the nightclub. Meanwhile Jonathon Randall is furious that this carnage has occurred and ponders the cost of the firebombing.

N.B. This chapters contains some violence.  Previous chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations

My THANKS for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting on this story.  I am very grateful for your support and I hope you continue to do so.

 CHAPTER 73(V)

 Claire noticed two Chinese men in black watching what was happening on the dance floor. Turning in time she saw them pull out and draw their guns, then all of a sudden, the two men started shooting. In no time at all there was gunfire ricocheting across the crowded room in retaliation for the death of their colleague as the two men shot at the security personnel who had come to intervene in the confrontation. They indiscriminately shot at them and anyone else who moved. As a consequence, sheer pandemonium broke out. In panic people ran to avoid what was happening as a hail of bullets reverberated around the nightclub. Suddenly, Fergus’ voice echoed in her comm. unit when he saw and heard the gunfire fight on the monitor, “Claire ... What’s going on in there?” “There’s shooting ... It’s two rival triads.” She watched as one of the young men drew what appeared to be some sort of small device from his pocket and rolled it across the floor. A smoky mist arose from the mechanism then suddenly there was a loud bang and flames shot up into the air. “Beauchamp! ... report!” “They’ve just firebombed the nightclub too.” Guests lay on the floor. Claire counted about seventeen who had died. Quickly surveying what was happening; she chambered a round of ammunition in the gun hidden on her thigh. Taking aim, she took out the aggressors, but the gunfire kept on coming from other quarters within the darkened room. All hell broke loose ... and Jonathon Randall was nowhere to be seen. “You’re got incoming hostiles.” Fergus relayed as his monitor screen alerted Claire to movement in her vicinity. “Position and number?” “There's one heading right for you Claire.” “Can you back me out?” “No. You’re going to have to go through them. Do you need some back- up?” “I’m fine ... I can handle this myself.” No sooner had Section’s Techie alerted her to trouble than more appeared. “There's another one right behind him.” Suddenly Fergus was interrupted by a voice he didn’t expect. “I’ll cover her.” “Jamie?” he queried incredulously realising that James Fraser had disobeyed orders to return to Section One. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Amid all the chaos going on around her in the nightclub, Claire Beauchamp weaved to her right just as the hostile appeared followed by another close on his heels. As he approached, she clenched her fist and gave the assailant a very quick left hook to the face. Clutching his jaw, he fell to the ground knocked out by the blow. Seeing his companion fall, the second man made a lunge at her but Claire had his measure and he too met with the same fate. Quickly assessing the situation, she moved toward the direction of the entrance, but the scene there was one of sheer panic. 

Alarmed Fergus noticed hostiles appearing from all around the room. “Claire! Get out of there. They'll be on top of you any second.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“I’m getting Claire.” Jamie stated with nonchalant conviction. “Jamie, what are you doing?” “You heard ...Ye’ll have to cover for me with Section,” he added in passing, knowing that Fergus Claudel had no option but to do so. “No, Jamie! Claire can handle herself.”

 But his words fell on deaf ears.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “Can you back me out by another exit point?” She asked looking around and finding the situation a little troublesome. “Yeah. Through the door to your left there are some stairs. The staircase leads to the basement and a back alley.” Glancing around Claire spotted the door and quickly made her way over to it as Fergus alerted her to the escalating situation that she faced. “Claire ... they know you're there ...” Then with concern in his voice he alerted Jamie to the situation that she faced in the nightclub. “Jamie ... Claire's trapped!”

Without hesitation he stated emphatically. “I’m going in.” “She’s at the exit door to the left near the dance floor.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Once inside, James Fraser quickly scanned the area then moved through the club. In all the pandemonium going on and semi darkness in the interior, it was easy for him to pinpoint Claire’s position as he was wearing night vision glasses. Alarmed, he could see that she was in some difficulty and swiftly made his way over to her without drawing attention to himself or her. Jamie took aim with his weapon, but was held back by hostile fire ricocheting throughout the club from several quarters and had to dodge to avoid the wayward bullets. Moving forward when he had the chance, he aimed and fired at a hostile who had his gun trained on Claire. The assailant fell to the floor lifeless, and joined the many other bodies of rival triad members who had met their bloody demise on the dance floor. Jamie’s major concern was only for his Claire’s safety. He stepped over the bodies and made his way towards where she was. As soon as she was out of line from hostile fire, she moved to descend the stairway, but before she could start, a man came up behind her and grabbed her on the shoulder. “Looking for something?” he sneered. Jamie noticed the assailant confront and grab her but realised that Claire had the situation in hand. She turned just as the hostile was about to hold a gun to her head. With quick reflexes she jabbed him with a tazer dart taken from the inside the bodice of her dress. The jolt of electricity was powerful enough to throw the assailant against the wall before he slid to the floor, unconscious. Another security guard approached from the back of the nightclub when he saw his friend fall. Seeing him draw nearer out of the corner of her eye, Claire turned to take him out but he was no longer in pursuit. Unbeknownst to her, Jamie had already taken care of the hostile. However, when she tried to leave the room, she found the door locked from the other side.

Ever vigilant, her eyes scanned the perimeter as she spoke. “Fergus, I can't get out.” 

“What do you mean?” “The door is locked.” Fergus pulled up a schematic of the nightclub, which showed the adjoining room to the dance floor highlighted in red. Above the diagram however, words were blinking in yellow that was cause for alarm. SECURITY BREACH DETECTED - ALARM SYSTEM ACTIVATED “What am I going to do?” She asked when confronted with the possibility of no egress. “It’s okay Fergus ... I’ve got it,” James Fraser announced as he reached Claire’s side. Crouched behind the door, she looked up in surprise when she heard his voice. Immediately taking command Jamie gestured what he was about to do, but as he did so, another security guard rushed at the couple. Turning just in time to see the man approach, Jamie took him out with a single shot. What they didn’t know however, was that members of the Rising Dragons’ triad that Jonathon Randall had summoned, were entering the club from the other side of the door to provide reinforcements against the Black Panthers and Red Lanterns’ triads who had caused this fracas. James Fraser proceeded to kick open the door. However, he was unaware that the force of his kick had propelled a man into a nearby side wall just as Fergus’ warning echoed in their ears. “Claire! ... Jamie! ... There are hostiles on the other side,” he alerted alarmingly. Non fazed by the danger, Jamie held the door open effectively pinning a hostile’s body behind it. Shooting through the door twice, he hit another assailant with him on the other side. A third triad member heard the commotion and started to climb up the stairs, but before he could draw his gun, Claire shot him too. Looking around cautiously to make sure they were not being watched, Jamie and Claire entered through the door stepping over the unconscious and dead men lying slumped on the floor. With gun drawn, Claire stood on the other side of the door, poised on the threshold and waited to hear any approaching footsteps. All was quiet so they began to descend the stairway. That’s when Fergus announced. “Two men in the stairwell.” With gun poised ready for any other anomalies, they stopped when they saw a person approach. Claire aimed her firearm and took him out, then continued down the stairs. Halfway down Jamie saw another triad member who had just discovered the body of his collaborator at the bottom of the stairs. Taking aim, he began to shoot at the two operatives forcing them to return fire. Sensing the danger they were in, Jamie told Claire to hold her position as shots were exchanged. The hostile eventually took a hit and fell back down the stairs. Carefully James Fraser began to descend further down the stairway once more but this placed him in a precarious position as triad members were gathering reinforcements below them out of sight. “Fergus are there any more?” he asked fearing that there may indeed be unseen attackers at the bottom of the staircase. “Heat thermals indicate another three hostiles below.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* From their vantage point the assailants could see that the black clad man was vulnerable and exposed with no protection, and taking the initiative, a triad member shot back at Jamie narrowly missing him. He rolled and dived to the ground forced to take cover behind the balustrade from the raining bullets. Thinking he could entrap this man, the hostile continued up the stairs, but James Fraser was prepared. He leaned over the banister and exchanged fire. The Chinese male took aim once more, but his aim was off and the bullet missed his target. He didn’t even flinch, but returned fire with two more bullets which mortally wounded the man. Falling backward, he rolled down the stairs, coming to a halt on the next landing. Jamie then descended further down to the bottom of the stairs stepping over the body lying lifeless on the landing. Claire followed behind and saw another hostile appear out of nowhere as her partner made his way down the stairs. She fired and he fell. When another two charged at them Jamie took out one and Claire the other as the stairway’s landings were systematically littered with the dead bodies of the triad members. “Fergus?” “The stairs are clear Jamie. Proceed to egress.” Opening another door that led to some kind of cellar, he motioned to Claire. “This way.” Quickly making their way across the basement floor the two operatives soon exited through the door into an alleyway. As the door closed behind them, they anonymously disappeared into the night as if nothing had happened. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~

Jonathon Randall was seething. He was furious at the turn of events in his nightclub tonight that had ruined his birthday celebrations and killed many of his guests and staff.  

He was in damage control.

He knew he would have to do something about what had happened downstairs and fast. He needed to turn some negatives into positives. But what could he do? His nightclub had been firebombed. There were dead bodies on the dance floor, there were police swarming all over the nightclub and his security monitors were out of action. It would be difficult to identify the perpetrators of the carnage as he had no footage of what had happened after they malfunctioned. He tried to weigh up his options. If he retaliated there could very well be a bloodbath like what had occurred tonight on the Rising Dragons’ turf, but if he did nothing it would appear that the triad was weak. If he let Jiang take care of everything, he would be implicated in why The Triangle was firebombed. Reasons could arise that could incriminate him and the triad as well and it was imperative that he keep his nose clean of any criminal activities. His cover as a legitimate businessman here in Hong Kong and what had occurred tonight could ruin his business and expose his liaisons with the Rising Dragons. 

Jonathon had a nagging feeling in his gut that something was not right.

Something was very much amiss. Was someone out to kill him? Or were the perpetrators only out to cause mayhem and trouble? But who would want to do that and more importantly why? Someone had been out to discredit the triad and him in particular, and they had been successful in doing so. This was indeed a catastrophe but all his questions only raised more questions. The only thing he knew was that members of the Black Panthers and Red Lanterns’ triads had managed to infiltrate tonight’s festivities. The nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach only exacerbated. Perhaps he had a traitor on his staff. How else could the Rising Dragons’ enemies gain access to the party when it was by invitation alone? 

Worst of all was that the nightclub would need to be closed for forensic investigations. It may well be days or weeks before The Triangle could be back in business. He would need to cooperate with the authorities out of expediency, so leaving the country for any length of time to lay low was out of the question. It would raise too many suspicions and he’d had enough negative press of late. What worried him most was that his life was obviously in jeopardy. He suddenly realised that he was in a conundrum. He was dammed if he did and dammed if he didn’t … but heads would roll, he was certain of that and somebody would pay. He knew he would be looking over his shoulder for some time if the triad or police didn’t find who was responsible for the fracas. Not only that but he had his orders from Sun Yee Lok concerning Claire Beauchamp but unfortunately, he may have to rethink his dinner date with her tomorrow night. With many scenarios whizzing through his brain Jonathon Randall summoned his right-hand man Robert Ling to come up to his office immediately to plan his next strategy. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Outside the nightclub, people congregated in groups on the pavement exchanging stories as to their fate and thanking their lucky stars that they were able to flee. Many women were distressed and in shock particularly those who had witnessed the carnage inside but had managed to escape. They were the lucky ones. The party guests moved along the pavement jostling each other as they frantically looked for their friends to see if they had got out of the nightclub safely. Amid the disquiet of people’s chatter, the sound of police sirens filled the air. Their piercing wail echoed in the night as the sound came nearer and nearer. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* “Let's go Sassenach.” Jamie spoke quietly to Claire making sure that they had clear passage away from the nightclub and weren’t being followed. They soon disappeared into the night and hurried down the darkened alley. In no time they were near the exit that led to the main road. The two operatives paused before continuing on into the throng of people who were pacing up and down. Turning towards Jamie, Claire indicated than Karen and Andy were standing on the pavement some way from the main chaos happening around them and looking every which way to see if she had made it out too. James Fraser noticed the agitated way the two were acting in their quest to find Claire. His suspicions were once again heightened.  Was it out of concern for her welfare or for other reasons? His eyes scanned the crowd but he was unable to see if Jonathon Randall had left the club. More than likely, there was a secret escape route for him or he was still inside, as he was nowhere to be seen.

He cast a look Claire’s way as she smoothed her dress and hair back into some semblance of order. His eyes caressed her features and marvelled at her tenacity inside the nightclub. She had been amazing. 

Claire caught Jamie’s glance of admiration and it was hard to break away from his penetrating look. She glanced down at the pavement and spoke quietly. “I just wanted to say ... thank you. That's the kindest thing you've ever done for me. Thank you, Jamie.” 

“How are ye doing?”

“I'm okay but Operations won’t like it that you disobeyed orders.” “I can deal with it,” he answered nonchalantly. Then gesturing towards where the crowds had gathered on the pavement he said, “Shall we?” Claire’s glance cut him to the quick with a hidden meaning only Jamie could understand. She was loathed to leave him to Operations’ grilling back at Section One when he eventually returned. He had disobeyed orders and all for her and her concern for his fate was tangible. However, to Jamie, his Sassenach was so beautiful ... all woman ... and his. His eyes caressed her form from head to toe before resting his gaze on her face.

“Don’t worry,” he communicated with his eyes. “I’ll be fine.” 

But Jamie’s dismissal of what he had done tonight didn’t quite appease Claire’s concern for she knew how Operations would react. Nevertheless with one last reassuring glance his way, she emerged from the darkness of their cover and made her way in Karen and Andy’s direction. Jamie watched as she hurried over to where the couple was standing. Knowing that he had to return to Section as ordered he was still concerned for her safety. He knew Claire would need to keep her cover intact, but he was a bit worried that Karen and Andy may indeed try another kidnap attempt tonight. However, given that she was to meet with Jonathon Randall tomorrow night, he thought not but erred on the side of caution anyway and contacted Section One.

“Fergus ...” 

“Yes?” “I need ye to do something.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~ “Oh ... Claire ... there you are!” Karen exclaimed in relief rushing up to her as she saw her neighbour approach from out of the crowd on the pavement. “I’m glad you made it out safely. We were so worried about you when we got separated. Are you OK?” “Yeah I’m fine but I think I’d like to go home.” “Good idea ...” Ushering to her boyfriend, Karen requested, “Do you think you could get us a cab Andy? ... I’ve had enough excitement to last me a while.” “Sure thing babe.” Across the street James Fraser waited in the shadows watching. He saw Andy Ma hail one of the many taxi cabs that were cruising down the street. Noticing the new fare, a driver immediately pulled up beside where they were standing on the pavement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~ 

Knowing that he had failed to do what Jamie had asked of him in the first place and nervous of his reaction, Fergus Claudel swallowed the lump in his throat. He hesitated somewhat before answering, and finally relayed the information that bothered him.

“Jamie ... Operations knows what happened tonight.”

“I see.”  

“I’m sorry but I had to tell him.” 

“Dinna fash. What’s done is done.” “Under the circumstances, Operations was uncharacteristically reasonable and has authorised any request. What do you need?” “I want around the clock surveillance on Karen Yee and her boyfriend Andy Ma tonight. Arrange it A.S.A.P.” “Already done.” 

“Who?” 

“Abernathy and Wakefield are on standby for their orders.” “Thank ye.” Whilst talking, Jamie watched closely as the three people stepped up to the curb and got into the waiting cab. Karen got in first, followed by Claire. Andy closed the door then jumped into the front seat with the driver. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~ Although they had heard the sound of gunshots and a small explosion, Karen and Andy had not really known the extent of the carnage that had taken place inside the club as she and her boyfriend had managed to get out before the explosion and all the crossfire.

As they settled back against the leathered seats, Karen looked over to Claire. “Gee! Was that some commotion in the club or what?” “Yeah ... it was.” “Without doubt it will be a birthday party Jonathon Randall won’t forget in a hurry ... that’s for sure.”

Nodding in agreement, Claire replied, “It was certainly memorable.” “I guess the nightclub will be shut for a few days because of it ... so I’ll have time to spend with you babe,” Andy added candidly turning in his seat to look towards Karen. “Well at least something good will come out of it,” she responded happily. The couple exchanged a satisfied look that Claire caught them giving each other. “Hmm ... I wonder if dinner is still on tomorrow or if Jonathon Randall will cancel?” Claire asked. “Depends ... Probably not, but you just never know. There will be a lot of inquiries about this from the police so he may postpone rather than cancel. I’m sure he’ll ring either way.” “Yes ... I’m sure you’re right Karen.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~ As the door closed and the cab left, James Fraser quietly slid into the night as he discreetly followed the taxi back to Claire’s apartment.  He watched as the lights eventually came on.  He saw her silhouette in the window and watched as Claire moved about in her apartment preparing for the night. Not happy with leaving his Sassenach alone, he’d made plans for the close shadowing and observation of her two friends whilst he was gone.  Jamie didn’t trust Karen or her boyfriend, and he wanted to make sure that she was safe. However, once the lights went off as she readied for bed, he finally left to return to Section One as ordered, safe in the knowledge that those who may cause his Claire harm were under surveillance until he could return later tonight or in the morning.

 *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ to be continued

 N.B. As I have a few chapters under my belt, I will try and post twice each week on WEDNESDAY and SATURDAY and we’ll see how things go. My thanks again for reading, liking, reblogging and commenting on this story.  I really do appreciate you doing so.

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|Fortune, Fate and Firearms AU|

Catra can't help with the farm work but she can watch it happening with great interest.

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|Fortune, Fate and Firearms|

Big Fan

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Day twenty-one: Frustration

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Spoptober day twenty-seven: Disappointed

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Spoptober Day seventeen: Lonely.

Hilariously placed Cactus.

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Spotober Day fifteen: Jealousy

Adora doesn't know who Scorpia is, just that Catra brought her with her. Not impressed.

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Day thirteen: Intimate

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Chapters: 3/13 Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra) Characters: Adora (She-Ra), Catra (She-Ra), Glimmer (She-Ra), Bow (She-Ra), Scorpia (She-Ra), Entrapta (She-Ra), Perfuma (She-Ra), Mermista (She-Ra), Netossa (She-Ra), Spinnerella (She-Ra), Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Mara (She-Ra), He-Man | Adam, Teela (He-Man) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Adora (She-Ra) and He-Man | Adam are Siblings, POV Catra (She-Ra), POV Adora (She-Ra), Catra is Bad at Feelings (She-Ra), Adora is in Love with Catra (She-Ra), Catra is in Love with Adora (She-Ra), Trans Adora (She-Ra), Intersex Adora (She-Ra), Brat Catra (She-Ra), Top Adora (She-Ra), Modern Etheria (She-Ra), Fake Character Death, Manipulative Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra) Summary:

In the rusty dust bowl of the south, sharp mountain peaks crown the land and only one belief stands the test of time: Money is Power.

The outlaws, The Horde have plenty of both, ruling over all through fear and corruption. The law is no exception. No one is willing to stand against the Horde. That is, none but The Rebellion.

When 'She-ra' and her ally’s become a thorn in the side of the Horde, they call home a new captain to burn out the infestation.

Catra is plenty experienced handling problems, but the rebellion won’t go down without a fight. And while she expects them to play dirty, she has no idea they recruited her best friend to their cause.

Her best friend who was meant to be dead… Her best friend who, before gone, was so, so much more…

OR

Catra and Adora are cowboys, desperate to reconnect after years apart, but it's hard to navigate their relationship to not getting caught and strung up as traitors.

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra) Characters: Adora (She-Ra), Catra (She-Ra), Glimmer (She-Ra), Bow (She-Ra), Scorpia (She-Ra), Entrapta (She-Ra), Perfuma (She-Ra), Mermista (She-Ra), Netossa (She-Ra), Spinnerella (She-Ra), Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Mara (She-Ra), He-Man | Adam, Teela (He-Man) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Cowboys & Cowgirls, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Adora (She-Ra) and He-Man | Adam are Siblings, POV Catra (She-Ra), POV Adora (She-Ra), Catra is Bad at Feelings (She-Ra), Adora is in Love with Catra (She-Ra), Catra is in Love with Adora (She-Ra), Trans Adora (She-Ra), Intersex Adora (She-Ra), Brat Catra (She-Ra), Top Adora (She-Ra), Modern Etheria (She-Ra) Summary:

Catra never wanted to return to the south after news of Adora's death reached her. But the Horde didn't care what Catra wanted and would never let her grieve in peace. Catra was a Captain and she would go where she was told. The Horde of Outlaws had a thorn in its side by the name of She-ra and it was Catra's job to remove that thorn. She-ra and was just a petty thief threatening to ruin their operations and steal Catra's heart like it was made for her.

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Merry Christmas! How do your characters in worlds that have Christmas, like in the Nyanny AU, celebrate the holiday, BTW?

Merry Christmas!

In my stories I usually don't use Christmas, I use a summer and winter solstice celebration. The celebration is about sharing what they have by giving gifts, because they have plenty, and sharing a meal to show love and connection. So it has a similar theme to what I think Christmas is about, but I don't use the name since it's a fantasy world.

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|Fortune, Fate and Firearms AU|

Sneak peak featuring Glimmer's hot takes ~