#still no bc they’re too busy figuring out ways to make more money instead of making the game accessible to more people | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snackhobi · 4 years ago

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pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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starrysupercell · 3 years ago

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Sooo... Now that its my wif- Tara's birthday... Are the Mystics (And Bo) gonna celebrate it :D? I can imagine Gene trying to set up some kind of surprise party for her, that would remain a surprise for like 4 minutes...

DANG IT. Past 12. TwT

But here you go! An outline for how Tara’s birthday is celebrated this year. 🧿 best fortune teller in Starr Park tbh. Your wife says hi 💜

I really gotta start keeping track of the Birthdays to have these things planned out.

One of the many good things about how much time Tara and Gene have known each other, is he knows she'll figure it out.

The surprise for her will be not the fact that there's a party because she can easily see that, but the extent of it, because she can promise not to sneak a peek at it.

(But now she's curious! Also, she's so used to checking on the future,* it takes a very conscious effort to not do so.)

So, while Gene keeps Tara preoccupied by taking a walk around the Park, Sandy, the Tribe, Gale and Mortis (because they're also friends with the Mysticals bc of the skins, shush.) are in charge of decorating.

So, with only two responsible adults in this group, how well do you think this is going to go? :)

Gale: So do you have a plan for the setup?

Sandy: hm? >.o oh. Yy*yawns*eah. here you go... *hands him a paper*

Gale: ...this just has a rough sketch of the main room and a couple of balloons.

Sandy- mm..felt sleepy but there's still.... -.-...time to...zzzz....

Gale:

Mortis laughs because well they'd just have to wing it! (He would definitely ask Emz for help, but she's busy with the teen crew for plot convenience) As long as decorations are already bought, it should an easy thing in setting it up the way they want it to look.

....decorations are already bought, right?

Sandy softly snores, and the Party Crew realizes that's their answer.

Meanwhile, Gene and Tara walk through the Park. The plan is picking up a few extra gifts along the way before heading back to the main party.

Their first stop is Barley's for some drinks! He gifts one bottle of Tara’s preferred drink, but does charge for the rest. Along the way, we see Brawlers greeting Tara and wishing her well on her birthday.

Colette’s very enthusiastic! She knows all the Brawler’s birthdays, and wanted to make something for Tara!

She doesn’t really have extra money recently, since there was some recent change in management, and she usually makes more detailed items, but because of the money problem, couldn’t buy as many materials she needed, but she’s derailing, so she hands Tara her wrapped gift.

It’s a cute hand-made Shade Plush!

Tara is delighted and thanks her for it. It’s a pleasant surprise, and she appreciates it. Colette fangirls a bit, thanking her, and then waving bye as the Mystics carry on.

Back at the Bazaar, they're trying to brainstorm on what to do. Well, half of them present are. Sandy is asleep and Nita + Leon are playing around the house.

Mortis says the only things he has back home are.. well, decorations of a more... gothic type..you know,.. (Halloween decors. they’re Halloween decors.)

Gale also offers up... some Snowtel hangings, but again, ‘tis not quite the right season to be jolly.

Bo suggests makeshift decorations. The twins are good at crafts! .. but more so along the lines of forest materials, not sand and...

Everyone’s drawing a blank, and decide that they could gather up their own share of materials, and see what could work best. Their time limit won’t really allow a break after all.

So Gale contacts Lou and asks him if he could meet him halfway with everything he can carry. Try not to get caught by the Penguin boss. Lou, ever the chaotic good guy agrees.

Bo gathers up Leon and Nita and they head out to see what they can scrounge up.

Mortis wonders if he should call up Frank too since he’ll be here later to set up and provide the music, but decides to be ~generous~ and just send a flock of his Bats to pick some things up for him. He sees them off adoringly.

With a content sigh, he lounges back and waits for his precious lovelies to return with his ideal decorations. Sandy sleeps on...

Back with Gene and Tara, the next item to pick up is the cake. Piper has the order ready-- a black forest chateau cake.

“Magnificent taste, darlings!” she compliments. she has it all boxed up very fancily. “It’s on the house. Take it as my gift for you. Happy birthday!”

She’ll also be attending the party later. Tara thanks her for the cake. She and Gene then take their leave.

Along the way to their last stop at the new Castle environment for the food, (because while they don’t know Ash very well yet, Tara loves trying out the new items and pizza is always great for a party.)

“Hey, Tara! ...hold up.” Edgar jumps down from a building they’re passing, just because he can and . “...this is from the rest of the Gang. Me too, I guess. Happy birthday.”

The party squad are actually worse off than before.

The Shaman Tribe are back, and the Twins became interested in using fabrics to try and make something too. so they’re playing around with it pretty much.

Gale just arrived, with Lou joined along because he was interested in the party planning too. (So, the snowtel is understaffed right now.) but they’re just chatting instead of working.

Mortis’ bats haven’t arrived yet, and he’s getting worried. They don’t usually take this long in running errands for him.

Leon and Nita are practically playing catch right now. They knock over something that looked priceless. Oh, a crystal ball, perhaps. Bo reprimands them.

They haven’t gotten much closer to making up the room...

There’s a knock, and the group freezes because oh no, they’re out of time. but it ends up being Frank. A very unhappy Frank who was suddenly surrounded by screeching batties who kept picking apart the house while he was packing up his set up for the party. They followed him there afterwards, along with several things.

Mortis tries joking it off ;; , and then very quietly and off-handedly apologizes when Frank doesn’t find it very funny.

But then so hey!!! you’re here so decoration time, everybody! let’s hop to it!

Gene’s Lamp, Sliver, floats in. Sent by Gene himself to check on the progress. They were nearing after all. The Lamp’s alarmed by what it sees. That is, absolutely nothing.

It glares around, and spots Sandy still sleeping. Sliver floats over to him, and hops on him-- Wake up!

Sandy does so, but is very grumpy. “what?”

Tara’s Birthday.

“yeah? what about it?”

Don’t you care?

“obviously.” he swats at the lamp. “it’s tomorrow.”

>:( Today. It’s TODAY.

“,” Sandy looks around, as wide-eyed as he could be.

broken crystal ball, a mix of decorations, and nobody currently fixing up anything from the looks of it.

They’re on the way.

Sandy makes a face. “ok... game plan on the fly.”

The final stretch of the day out.

Gene and Tara are nearing the Bazaar, and along the way, Gene starts to get heartfelt.

He reminisces how they first met, how far they’ve traveled together, how much longer they’ve yet to go.

He wishes he could think of something to give her that meant something like the other gifts that she received that day.

He was a Genie, but after everything they’ve been through, she deserves much, much more than what he could ever imagine to conjure up for her.

Tara smiles. “(Don’t... put me on too high a pedestal, my Friend.”)

Don’t sell yourself short either. You’ve done so much.

“(Yes. I have.)” Tara muses unhappily, thumbing the doll.

Gene suddenly gets the idea of what his gift could be, but he needs his Lamp to start on it.

Right before the two opened the door, a pair of bats were hanging up the last decoration.

And when the two walked in with the final party supplies at hand and are amazed at the display.

intricate ice sculptures and a more snowy feel set up where the food would go. the music section where Frank set up (who was talking with Mortis.) had a darker aesthetic, including the balloons over there.

Lastly the rest of the place was decorated with very cute works of art. no doubt the Tribe kid’s handiwork. she recognized it from when they stayed over, and the gifts Bo’s gotten from them and shown her.

You’d think that the seemed like the mix of fancier silver decorations, a more gothic theme and natural crafts would look odd together... and well, it was quaint, but it was very pleasing to see.

a patchwork of oddities, not unlike this park, really. She’s always been fond of odds and ends. Tara loved it!

Sandy yawns and walks over to them. “we actually just got done with the set up. but if it makes you feel better, we can still hide right now and yell surprise.”

Tara laughs. It’s okay.. it isn’t like she could be-- but she appreciates it. Sandy shrugs, like he didn’t just call all the shots and work in a hurry with the other eight. “you’re welcome.”

Lou offers to help set up the food and cake. Gale helps too, after presenting his gift too.

Frank and Mortis notice the arrival of the Birthday Gal and wave her over. They chat animatedly-- it’s been so long since they’ve had the chance to catch up! They should plan something soon. Tara agrees, and their gift is from the both of them. I can see it being a very nice piece of clothing, though I’m drawing a blank as to what.

The Lamp reunites with Gene, and their perspectives merge again. Oh. the party was really cut close, huh? but it worked out well! what a relief. a scrap book of actual memories is what you have in mind? how very sappy.... She would like it.

Lastly, Bo walks up to Tara, greeting her and wishing her well on this day. He hopes she likes what they helped with ....he then has the Twins apologize for breaking a few things around the house--

Tara dismisses it easily. They can be replaced. The Twins, that is. (joke to scare them.) But really, as long as they were careful from now on, it was okay. the cub and chameleon agree with no hesitation and then run off to cause more mayhem, but quieter this time.

The Psychic smiles. The guests would be arriving soon, and it was already so lively.

Time to party~!

_______

*I’m still deciding on the extent of her powers, so future sight might not be a thing, because of the characterization I have for her. I’m thinking something along the lines of “Can see past events, and make very informed guesses based on what she knows about people, but cannot see the future itself.”

#Brawl Stars #Birthday #Tara #My Outlines #Mystic Triad #Shaman Tribe #Mortis #Gale #Frank #my interpretation of Gene is um different from canon #if it's confusing #maybe i'll explain. uwu

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halfrest · 4 years ago

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* olivia holt, cis woman + she/her | you know freya nilsen, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, most of her life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to suicide blonde by mallrat like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole falling asleep on crowded buses, nights spent anywhere but home, automated ‘to accept this call, press 3 now’ messages seemingly on loop thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is august 2nd, so they’re a leo, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

pinterest.

death tw, drug use tw, postpartum depression tw / freya comes from a family that has plagued irving for years with their stunning reputation on both her father and mother’s side. death or jail was the common theme there. father, conrad ‘willie’ nilsen, was a menace and there was more than enough stories about him from his heyday. mother, holly koch, came from a family where everyone was constantly at each other’s throats. holly dealt with the drama of it all through defiance. she fell for willie hard and fast and was soon caught up in his world, drugs and petty crimes. as was common in both willie and holly’s familues, an accidental teenage pregnancy was the next step. at first, willie was ecstatic and supportive in the way that he usually got. holly moved out of her family’s place at delphinus creek and into a trailer with him at lilac ridge. of course, willie was flaky and asshole-ish and it only took him three months to disappear from town. a pregnant holly still caught up in love did her best during those months of pregnancy. she remained clean, worked to pay rent, and believed willie would be back any day. her younger sister, fiona, who adored and looked up to holly was there to help every step of the way. freya was eventually born and willie never showed up. holly fell into a deep postpartum depression and had to be moved back in home with her mother and her siblings. she couldn’t care for freya at all. a month and a half later, willie returned to irving and holly was ecstatic despite the initial abandonment. and soon after that, both of them were gone, leaving freya behind. / end tw

it’s not as if her parents suddenly disappeared from existence, although freya prefers to pretend that they did. it’s easier to deal with them as nondescript figures in her life. and, at the end of the day, they ditched her. in reality, collect calls from correctional facilities let her figure out that her dad’s been locked up. memories of a woman in youth that looked so much like her and so much like fiona proved that holly was still in and out in irving. freya also remembers that holly never acknowledged her as her own before disappearing once more. she never figured out if it was done purposefully or if it was because that’s just the way her mother functioned. that being said, all potential contact with either parent was short and brief and freya learned to not let it mean anything. there hasn’t been any substantial contact for years now either way. her dad’s in prison. her mother’s missing.

freya grew up under the care of her grandmother at first, a bitter woman with a husband long dead, who resented having to look after this baby. that only lasted a handful of years ‘cause soon enough, she wasn’t fit and sent off to a nursing home. fiona, who was of age at that time, took guardianship of freya at lilac ridge or at whichever boyfriend’s home.

fiona raising freya was more of a weird friendship/sibling sort of relationship rather than a proxy mother-daughter one. that meant freya had too much freedom, but it also meant there were a lot of screaming matches between the pair and a lot of times freya was left directionless. her aunt also loved serial dating so there were a lot of strange men in and out. not the most reputable guys either, but truth be told those men were providing them with financial support, so fiona was never quick to let them go despite the way things would go sour.

very independent. freya has a lot of practical smarts, although most of the time it’s used for nothing good (knows how to shoplift without getting caught, can talk her way out of most things, knows how to get what from who). she’s someone who does what she wants. discipline is foreign to her and god forbid if anyone tries it. in typical teenage fashion, heightened by the fact that life was set up for her to fail, she’s always had this aura of apathy. her general approach to life is to accept it as it is but make sure she’s having as much fun as possible. of course, as most people do, there was an inkling of yearning there. the shiny gold possibility that she didn’t have to become another nilsen-koch irving deadbeat staple hung at the back of her mind. that she could possibly get out and have some dreams was encouraged by a few teachers. so she ended up trying as much as she could possibly try in her last few years of high school and proved to herself that she wasn’t completely useless. although, it was soon clear that getting into a good out-of-state college required more than just making an attempt — extracurriculars and money and other obvious yet non-obvious things that freya lacked. at the end of the day, her best option was a local college, which wasn’t a defeat by any means cause she had made it and it was college. still, she was stuck too close to irving. she decided to major in business. good at numbers and can talk the talk baby.

kind of always has her foot out the door though. it didn’t take long for freya to fall back into old habits because her life is her life. there’s always a lack of money, another toxic man fiona’s caught up with, another wrench thrown in the works. her education became spacey and full of cracks. she never made it to graduation, dropping out a few semesters in. unfortunate bc she’s the kind of person who could accomplish things if she cared or tried, but the problem is that she does not and no, she will not ask for help <3 she refuses to take anything seriously.

instead of school, she spent time on the road. she had it in her mind to visit her dad in prison in louisiana, not knowing really why she had that urge. maybe it was to properly meet him, ask about her mother, curse him out. but, she never ended up making it out there. instead she got caught up in a few things and with a few people and at the end of the day she once again just didn’t follow through.

now back at irving, freya’s at her usual job at cutie pie’s as a waitress (wanda has a soft spot for her thankfully so there’s always a place for her). she’s moved out of fiona’s place at delphinus heights, mostly bc freya was sick of dealing with her aunt’s disgusting boyfriends, and into the same trailer that was supposed to be willie and holly’s family home in lilac ridge. she found out that fiona had been making payments on the place, expecting holly to return at any time. from childhood, fiona had held her older sister in revere although frankly freya doesn’t get it. told her aunt off for wasting money like that, but still took the trailer off of fiona’s hands, so. shrugs my shoulders.

let’s plot so good everybody.........

#irvingintro #death tw #drug use tw #postpartum depression tw #one intro of three done. wipes sweat.

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percyinpanties · 4 years ago

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hey I'm the pipeyna anon and that's ok!!! can u do pipeyna with piper pining after hot jock Reyna which hopefully ends happy (smutty)

just a quick warm-up, i say, i won’t spend too much time on this. i really had to resist just going on and on and on with this. i miss writing this ship, damn.

anyway - this fits really well with an enemy to lovers prompt i have for jercy, so thats what im hinting at too here.

Read on Ao3

for context : i always write college aus from a UK uni perspective bc that’s all i know and i don’t care to adapt to how it might or might not work in the u.s. (sorry)

rating: teen+ (no smut in this one, but let me tell you, this TEMPTED me)

words: 2.2k

___

“An actual goddess” Piper says wistfully from where she’s leaning against the wall next to Percy, taking back the cigarette she’d just bummed of him. Her eyes are glued on the field, and more precisely on Reyna, smile on her face and water bottle in her hand as she jogs over to Jason standing at the side of the field. They greet each other with a hug, even as Reyna wrinkles her face, seemingly complaining about her own sweatiness.

It’s coincidence that the end of Reyna’s soccer practice collides conveniently with Piper’s and Percy’s late seminar on Mondays. It isn’t coincidence that Percy and her have taken to sharing a cigarette on the side of the building that looks out toward the field during their break, however.

Percy makes a non-committal noise and his eyes follow Piper’s gaze while she takes a drag of the cigarette and wrinkles her nose. She needs to quit smoking for good, she thinks, and flicks the ash to the ground. There was a brief moment in first year when Piper thought that Percy might be interested in Reyna, or she in him, but luckily, nothing ever came of that.

“You think they’re dating?” Percy asks, arms crossed over his chest now, making no move to take the cigarette back again. He’s not even pretending not to be staring, his eyes intense where they flit between Reyna and Jason. Piper on the other hand has the common decency to at least cast her eyes away every now and again before she’s caught looking for a little too long.

At the edge of the field, Reyna and Jason are standing close together now, chatting about god knows what, smiling and laughing. They’re certainly comfortable with each other, but Piper can’t say that’s much of an indication given how she’s around Percy.

“I hope not.” Piper mutters and Percy laughs at that, even though she knows he agrees. Percy wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but Piper would bet real money that he has a thing for Jason, too, as much as he claims to hate the guy. She’d have to be deaf and blind not to notice the tension between them.

It would make sense, though, in a way. Jason is captain of the men’s rugby team, Reyna of the women’s soccer team. Some of their practices collide and the two clubs do most of their weekly socials together, and Piper’s seen the two of them hanging out aside from that plenty as well. Reyna and her haven’t talked much about Jason, maybe because Piper hasn’t actually exchanged more than five words with him and never had much of an urge to change that, but she knows that Reyna and Jason have known each other before university.

Around Jason, Reyna seems to let her guard down, something Piper has only managed to achieve a handful of times since they met during their first year.

Jason laughs at something Reyna says, eyes bright and head thrown back and Piper can’t deny that he’s handsome, at the very least. He’s fairly decent, too, as far as guys go, and really, Piper knows she shouldn’t be hoping that there is nothing between Reyna and him if that is what would make Reyna happy.

“Invite her to the party.” Percy suggests then, drawing Piper’s attention back from the tangent her brain was so insistent to start on. When Piper turns her face to look at him, he’s already looking back at her, one eyebrow arched. “I was going to, anyway, but it’s different coming from you yourself.”

He’s not teasing her, it’s an honest suggestion, and technically not even a bad one. It’s Percy’s birthday this weekend, and if nothing else, it would be a good excuse to hang out again. Percy knows a ton of people, but he usually doesn’t invite too many to his party, so with any luck, it won’t be too crowded to actually spend some time with Reyna.

More than that, though, it’s another opportunity for Piper to finally get a move on. Percy, Piper knows, thinks that Piper’s pining had reached a point where it’s almost comical halfway through last year, but even so, Piper has yet to manage to actually act on her feelings.

A party is casual enough that she can always play it off as nothing serious when it ends up blowing up in her face. Piper might finally get over herself and just ask Reyna out already – although she’s tried that a few times before only to find herself tongue tied and staring at Reyna like she hung the moon in the sky. She’s been head over heels for Reyna since maybe three weeks after they met in first year, and now that they’re starting their third and final year, Piper needs to get a move on or it’ll simply be too late. Granted, she’s scared shitless at the prospect of being turned down, but at this point, even that would be better than pining forever and never finding out if she’d even stand a chance.

“Yeah… maybe.” Piper says finally, and manages a small smile towards Percy who bumps his shoulder against hers playfully. They should be heading back inside, so Piper sneaks a last glance toward Reyna and this time, finds her looking back.

They don’t share any classes this year, and Piper doesn’t usually run into Reyna on campus, so on Wednesday morning, she ends up texting Reyna on her way to class. She fumbles with her phone, almost tripping over her own two feet trying to type the words out as fast as possible, and ends up having to sidestep off the path to actually send the texts.

Hey you.

we’re having a party on Saturday, it’s Percy’s birthday.

Piper wants to add more, but instead, she bites her lip and stuffs her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. It’s almost an open invitation like this already anyway, and Piper wants to gauge Reyna’s first reaction before deciding exactly how she’s going about asking. Technically, it would be so easy to just as Reyna to go with her, specifically, to the party, but the intention might be lost over text and anyway, wouldn’t it be simpler to just invite her generally?

Piper frets throughout the entirety of her first lecture, and most of the second one, for nothing. Reyna doesn’t answer, even though the messenger app shows Piper that she’s read both texts already, and Piper tries not to be disappointed about it. She doesn’t know what Reyna’s schedule is like today, the girl might just be busy and planned on replying later. It makes sense, much more than Piper’s second thought that Reyna is not answering because Piper is annoying and Reyna doesn’t actually want to spend any time with her. She knows that thought is stupid, knowing that however does nothing to ease the anxious knot in Piper’s stomach.

Piper finds herself checking her phone more often than not. It would be funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous, and if the lecturer wasn’t so clearly catching on that Piper isn’t paying as much attention to the class as she is to her phone. She texts Percy as well, but she knows he’s in that seminar he shares with Jason, so chances are that she won’t be getting a reply on that end anytime soon either. In the end, she has to force herself to put her phone away and actually focus on the lecture up front, even though by that point, she is already lost as to what they’re even talking about in the first place. It’s no good, and Piper can’t deny being relieved when the lecturer eventually dismisses the class.

She doesn’t allow herself to check her messages until she’s across campus in the coffee shop, queuing for some much needed caffeine and fishing out her phone so she doesn’t have to make small talk with anyone while she waits in line. Reyna still hasn’t replied, but at least Percy has messaged her after his seminar.

I’m gonna strangle him, Piper. You’ll have to bust me out of prison because they are going to arrest me for goddamn murder.

All she’d asked was if his classes were as boring as hers today, and while she had expected Percy to go off about Jason in reply, this isn’t exactly what she’d thought to be reading today. She smiles at her phone, types out a quick reply and moves up in the queue.

That bad? What’s he done now?

The way Percy talks about Jason makes Piper think of a Cartoon Network villain, always plotting, provoking and scheming. The few times she’s spoken to Jason, the guy wasn’t half bad, and if Piper is honest, she doesn’t quite get the vendetta these two have with each other. She suspects though that it has something to do with how ‘infuriatingly attractive, like fucking superman or something’ Percy described Jason after their first class together.

It’s like he thinks I’m stupid or something. Got a dumb fucking project to do together and he honestly told me that he ‘needs to pass this class so iif I’m not planning to put in the work, we might as well ask for new partners right away’

Like, excuse me, bitch? My grades are better than yours, for one thing

And for another, it’s not like good-old Dodds is gonna let us switch anyway

Piper huffs audibly while she reads the texts. It’s clear Percy’s actually upset by this, and she figures it will only get worse if they actually have to do the work together in the coming weeks. Before she can shoot Percy a reply though, she’s next in line.

Piper orders her coffee, steps aside to wait once she’s paid, and rereads Percy’s texts before she types her reply to Percy.

Sounds like a dick move.

Piper’s almost inclined to defend Jason for a moment, since Percy mostly doesn’t pay much attention in class, especially in Mrs. Dodds seminars – so how is Jason meant to know how much effort Percy puts in outside of it? On the other hand, though, Piper knows how Percy is, and how personally he’s clearly taken Jason’s comment already, so trying to convince him otherwise would simply be fruitless.

Once Piper’s coffee is done, she heads back outside, finding an empty bench to enjoy the break before her next class. If nothing else, at least Percy’s ranting is distracting her from Reyna, and the party, and asking the other girl out – and in between the rapid texts Percy and her are sending back and forth Piper almost forgets about it entirely. Until she has to head back to her last class, that is, and sees that Reyna has, so far, still left her on read.

Piper hesitates for a moment, clicking on the text field without typing anything just yet. Is she going to come off as desperate if she texts again, or should she just clarify now before it gets too late and Reyna already makes different plans for the weekend?

Piper types out a few words, deletes them again and pockets her phone only to get it back out a few seconds later to try again. She shouldn’t be walking and texting, especially given that she should be going faster to actually make it to her lecture in time, but Piper knows that if she doesn’t send this text now, she’ll spend another lecture agonising over what to say.

So yeah, I wanted to invite you too ofc :)

Piper cringes at her wording, but figuring it won’t get much better, she sends the text anyway and finally tucks her phone back into her pocket to actually hurry to class.

By the time Reyna replies, it’s late and Piper is sitting on the beat-up couch in her shared flat’s living room, watching something trashy on TV without really paying much attention at all. Percy is clanking around in the kitchen, making something that smells good enough to remind Piper that she should probably be getting herself some food, too. She’s about to get up and rummage through her fridge compartment in search of something edible when her lock screen lights up with a message from Reyna, and that derails any thoughts of food immediately. Piper isn’t subtle in the way she practically lunges for her phone, but luckily, Percy can’t see and judge her from his position in the kitchen.

Sorry, long day, reads the first text, following a few seconds later by another one.

Promised Jason to hang out but I’d love to :(

Piper bites her lip, knowing before typing out the words that Percy won’t like what she’s doing in the slightest.

You could bring him? Percy won’t mind.

Except that Percy most certainly will mind, Piper thinks, and grimaces. If she hadn’t come off as desperate before, she most certainly does now – texting back within less than a minute after having been left on read all day, only to offer that Reyna can bring her friend (boyfriend?) along as well if that means she’ll be there.

There’ll be other opportunities, Piper tells herself, and scrubs a hand over her face. She needs to chill, and maybe she needs to grab a cigarette and step outside and calm down before she embarrasses herself even further.

Piper stares at the screen. How on earth is she meant to interpret this? At this rate, she won’t make it until Saturday, dying of one crisis or another before then.

if you’re sure? I’ll ask him.

haven’t seen you in a while, would be nice to hang out again ;)

I’m sure.

#will i continue this? maybe #i do kinda wanna write the party part and have it ending ~spicy~#pipeyna #piper mclean #reyna ramirez avila arellano #my stuff #my fic #prompts #teen+#pjo #Anonymous #jercy #in the bg

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hunflowers · 5 years ago

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MYTHOLOGY (I)

Word Count: 6.4k

Requested? Not exactly, but you always can here :)

A/N; OMGGG it’s finally here. I’m sorry for the long wait but I really hope you all enjoy the first part of demigod!Harry. And listen, I’m gonna be honest, this part is probably a little boring bc this is all about background/the past leading to the present, so pls bear with me because i promise it’ll be good! Anywho onwards to the story, have fun! *nose boops*

tag list: @thicksniall @meetmeinfleetwood @afire-hes @pradaxstyles @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @gotmyhandonmyheart @burberryharold @harrymoncheri

Life is a funny thing.

Everyone thinks they know who they are and how their life is going to pan out. There’s a meticulous planning to life that people try to control; a plan that decides where they end up, who they end up with, and how happy they end up. But it’s so far out of everyone’s control, and not a single person could claim they were successful.

Calista thought for once she was in control, that maybe if she took matters into her own hands, everything was going to go the way she wanted.

And everything was starting to look up.

From birth to present, her life has always been one filled with uncertainty. Uncertain about where she was going to live, if she was going to eat, if she’d ever find a family that would love her. All her life she wished for something to go her way, for something to go right instead of left.

When she hit the turning age of eighteen, things did start to look up for her. All her life she’s been on the lower level standards of society, grazing by, by the skin of her teeth. She figured her life was doomed from the start considering she never really had a true family, or a true support system.

As a baby she was left on the doorstep of some random woman’s house, and then that woman handed her over to the nearest orphanage, which then turned her over to the foster care system. From the moment she was born she hadn’t been wanted by anyone, not even her own parents, and all her childhood was between homes and ignorant foster parents who hardly ever cared for her existence, but rather the check she brought in for them.

A person’s childhood is meant to represent the happiest portion of their life. Being able to look back on memories that last forever, memories that weld nostalgia, and memories that you’ll forever hold close to your heart.

This wasn’t Calista’s case.

For Cal, all she can remember is the constant bullying from foster siblings because of her innate ability to be a good student; The constant slaps and kicks and punches thrown her way because she was too slow to stop them; The never ending verbal abuse of being alone with no friends.

Every day she went to school and wished she could never leave, because at school people at least left her alone. No one cared to talk to her so that meant she didn’t have to deal with anyone, and she liked that more than anything. It was going home that was the problem. There were plenty of times she contemplated running away, finding a home that would accept her, but she always talked herself down, saying one day these people will be nice to her. She had high hopes and tried to see the best of every situation, but time after time she was let down when she was pushed into a wall or tripped on the sidewalk.

The last home she was in before she turned eighteen had been the worst of them all. Every night she cried herself to sleep, and prayed to whoever would listen that she needed to be saved, that she shouldn’t have to live her life like this and that hopefully one day, things will start to look up. Then they did, and it was incredibly shocking. Cal was awarded a full ride scholarship to the University of Cambridge, a goal she’d never think she would achieve. The moment she got the news she made sure to put in extra hours at work and even get a second job so the moment she graduated high school she could leave, and head straight for England.

She had been tempted to tell her foster parents, to see if maybe they would be happy for her, but every time she tried, they shot her down and forced her to do work around the house or banished her to her room for the night and left her starving. No words could ever properly convey how excited she was to put this part of her life behind her, to start somewhere new, and to hopefully make better memories along the way.

So, her eighteenth birthday passed and high school graduation flew by, and before she knew it, she was packing up without a word to anyone, and moved away. She didn’t really have a plan as to what she would do once she got there, but anything was going to be better than her old life.

Calista had bounced around a few motel rooms over the course of a couple months before she moved into her dorm room, keeping herself busy with a few different jobs to try and save up a bit of money. Even here it was difficult trying to stand on solid ground, and she can’t say she expected much else with the cards she’s been dealt in life, but with this new start she figured it would be at least a little better than life back over the ocean.

Then the unexpected happened.

She made a friend at the restaurant she had been working at.

Trinity Kim, the bestest friend Calista could ever ask for. Usually, when people talk of soulmates, they talk of significant others. If anyone were to ask Cal who her soulmate was, she’d say Trinity, Trin for short.

It’s almost as if they were destined to be friends. They were alike in every way possible, but they were also so different which kept things interesting. For example, they both had lived pretty tough lives before meeting one another. Though Trin wasn’t in foster care her whole life, her father and step-mom had been involved in her life so little that she nearly forgot they ever existed. Their biggest connection had been that they never had met their birth mothers, which at first was oddly coincidental, but now, a few years later, it was strangely comforting for them to have something so deep in common. It’s hard to relate to people who have stable homes, because for Calista, well, she doesn’t; And not that she wants people to feel the way she does, but for some reason, when she found out Trin had a bit of a messed up life too, it helped her feel not so alone in this scary reality.

Then they found out they’re actually going to the same University, and that’s when they knew they’d be inseparable. Because what’re the odds of that?

Adapting to this new lifestyle was a rollercoaster for Calista, not that she expected any different, but three years later, she still found life a little overwhelming from time to time. Though this life was infinitely better than her one back in the states, it didn’t stop her underlying insecurities of not fitting in anywhere. She has Trin, and the few other friends she’s made over the years, but no matter where she was she never felt this sense of… belonging.

A lot of people she knew at school were business majors, looking to go into finance and everything else associated with the program, because they were trying to build stable careers. Calista on the other hand invested her life into the classical studies program, because for some reason she had this weird fascination with ancient life ever since she was a little girl, finding Greek and Roman life to be so interesting. It wasn’t a popular major, and people she told always tried to bring her down because of it, claiming she’d never get anywhere in life knowing stuff about mythological gods that never existed.

She’s learned to grow a tough exterior, not letting people and their dumb criticisms get in her way anymore. She’s a blooming adult, and she’s learned the hard way that sometimes people are just mean for the sake of being mean, so she’s put on her big girl pants and sticks up for herself now, never giving anyone the chance to walk all over her anymore.

Trinity has also helped Calista in boosting her self-confidence, giving her that little push to bite back at people that bark. There was one time they were at a party, and a girl came up to Calista, claiming she had been flirting with her boyfriend - and truth is, she had been, but she wouldn’t have if she knew he had a girlfriend - and when she starting calling her names, Calista spat right back at her, telling her to get a better boyfriend if this one was flirting with other women, and that maybe she should get a better taste in men.

Normally, Cal would’ve just apologized and moved on, but she’s so sick of people thinking they could just say or do whatever they want to her.

That’s why on one special night, Calista’s life changed forever.

She had been coming home from work with Trin, their job only a few streets away from their shared apartment, so they walked. It had been a nice night out, the moon in its crescent phase, glistening in the indigo sky, accompanied by a few scattered stars. It was a night just like every other one, until it wasn’t.

“Trin, I’m telling you, Niall likes you.”

“Please! He likes you, I know he does.”

“How could he like me, if he’s told me himself that he likes you?”

Trinity paused in her steps, halting Calista a few steps ahead of her, looking over her shoulder with a confused look. Trinity was looking around, as if she saw something Calista didn’t, a worrisome face etched into her features. “Trin?”

The situation wasn’t helped by the fact they were in a more remote part of the city, no cars or people around at this time of night. They were both too poor to afford a car, hardly getting by with their rent money, and this is when that lack of money would bite them in the ass. The weird part was, Trin didn’t really seem unnerved about her surroundings or anything, she just looked confused. That’s when Calista saw something move in the corner of her eye, or someone actually. They appeared from the alley a few feet away, as if that wasn’t creepy at all, and stood beneath the streetlamp that hovered above them, illuminating a dull golden glow around them.

There were two people, a boy and a girl watching the two friends, hands at their sides, holding some sort of… weaponry. It was hard to tell, but from a distance it almost looked like they were holding swords. All Calista could think about, rather than her fear of being killed, is who uses a sword anymore?

Their faces seemed oddly recognizable even though she’s pretty sure she’s never seen them before. Yet, she felt like she knew them. Though, it seems Trin does when she speaks nonchalantly to them, shoulders relaxed in relief of it not being some crazed serial killer. “What the fuck do you guys want?”

The girl ignored her, keeping her dark eyes fixated on Calista, skimming the length of her body in disgust, a grimace resting on her features as she rolls her eyes at Calista just simply standing there. “We were told to relay a message to you.”

“And this had to be done at ten at night, next to an alley?” Trin deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest. Cal stood off to the side, lost out of her mind as the three bickered back and forth for some odd seconds, wondering what in the hell was going on. She still couldn’t even pinpoint where she knew these people from.

Not to mention, she was still beyond confused about why they had fucking swords.

The boy caught her eyeing the metal, pushing the material of his jacket back a little bit so the silver shined under the streetlamp, either showing it off or trying to taunt her. Yet, her only response to that was an eye roll and a tap of her foot as she continued to ache from her six hour shift. It was weird how she didn’t feel at all threatened in this situation, but something in the back of her mind told her that if it were to go south, she’d be okay. Maybe not, she’s hardly ever been violent in her life, usually taking pain but never giving it.

“Tell her yet?” The girl jutted her head in Calista’s direction, again eyes raking her body with a look of disgust written on her lips.

“No, they said not to,” Trin replied, side glancing to Cal quickly, praying in her mind the curly haired girl didn’t ask questions when they left.

The thing about Trinity is that although to Calista, her appearance in her life seemed completely natural and as if they bonded purely on their backgrounds, that wasn’t completely true. For three years Trinity has been keeping the biggest secret of her best friend’s life and it’s been eating her alive ever since the small age of thirteen. When she was younger, she was told about how her future was meant to unfold with the mystery girl from across the atlantic, and how she was sworn to secrecy because it could end both of their lives if any wrong person found out the truth.

It was a lot for a thirteen year old to take in, but Trin knew she had to be strong.

But, when word got around that Calista was making her way over, that’s when Trinity was told to ease the girl as slowly and painlessly as possible into her righteous lifestyle. Trinity though, couldn’t grow the balls to ever do that, always fearing that she’d cause pain to her newfound friend and that -- from personal experience -- finding out the truth can be very, very difficult. So she hasn’t told her about her true history, and she’s felt awful about it.

Though, due to Cal’s impeccable speed, she beat her friend to the answer of that question, “Tell me what?”

The short blonde girl looked to her opposer, a smirk sliding across her lips before she glanced up to the guy, nudging his arm with her elbow. “This is gonna be good.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on right now, or?” Calista pressed, looking at all three of them, no one jumping to give her the answer she had been looking for, for the past five minutes.

Trinity looked nervous, gnawing at her bottom lip as she seemed to be in pain with whatever was going around inside her mind. Her lack of talking spoke volumes louder, though; Because her silence meant she was keeping a secret. It was hard to gauge whether or not the impact this secret would have, but a secret was a secret, and Calista hates secrets.

Her whole life had been nothing but a secret considering she had no idea who even birthed her, or if she had any family that was maybe looking for her, or what day she was even born on. Her declared date of birth was the day the woman found her on her porch. She had secrets up the wazoo, and anymore was just bound to break her.

Again, Trinity wasn’t the one to speak up, as now the guy decided to open his mouth, “What do you know about Greek mythology?”

Calista was taken aback by the question, stumbling around in her mind how that was at all relevant. It was also oddly concerning a question so random held so much relevance in her life considering her studies focused around this area of history. “Uh… why?”

“Don’t listen to them, Lis,” Trin interjected, taking a small step forward between her friend at the two a few paces away.

“Well, if you’re not going to, we will,” the girl retorted, now taking her own step forward. From the looks of it from Calista’s point of view, any more hostility verbally, those weird fucking swords of theirs were going to come in handy. And even though she had the slight fear of being impaled to death, something inside of her sparked some sense of nobility, going to stand next to a frustrated Trinity.

“I think someone should tell me something soon before I lose my mind.”

“Well, c’mon then Trinity, tell her. Mr. Cirillo said you have twelve hours, or we’re coming back and doing it ourselves; That’s why we’re here,” the girl shrugged, picking at the chipped black nail polish on her thumb.

Trinity scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Why wouldn’t he just tell me himself?”

“Because he’s tired of telling you and you not listening,” she spat back. “Look, I’d rather her not know either, because I don’t need any more competition for my title, but there’s apparently been a threat, and we need all the hands we can get in case a war breaks out. Plus, it’s unfair for her to keep living a lie. Twelve hours.” And then they walked back into the alley, and disappeared as if they hadn’t been there in the first place.

Calista’s mind was swirling down a very long drain to say the least. A war?Living a lie? Competition for a title? None of it made sense and she wasn’t sure if it ever would. Silence fell upon them the moment they started their journey back home again, not that she knew what to say. She had so many questions buzzing around her brain that she didn’t even know where to begin. Who even were those two?

And what the fuck was Trinity keeping from her?

The second they stepped through the door of their apartment, Calista flopped herself down on the couch, clutching her head as a migraine began to seep its way into her problems for the night. She didn’t want to be the one the break the thin ice they’d been itching their way across for the past fifteen minutes, but as Trinity paced around, biting at the tip of her thumb, clearly lost in her own thoughts, Cal figured she’d better be the first to speak before she bursts at the seams from anticipation. “Trin, help a girl out, what the hell is going on?”

She stopped her walking, head snapping to the side as her eyes frantically observed the sitting girl that was pushing her sweaty hair back from off her forehead. Whenever everything was dealt with, they seriously had to talk to their landlord about the excessive heating in their flat. It was as if they still had the heat on even when it was blazing outside.

Trinity took a breath, closing her eyes shut for a brief moment before collecting herself and sitting down on the available leather cushion. “I need to start this off by saying I’m sorry.”

“For wha--”

“Please… just let me finish.”

Calista nodded her head, silently agreeing to let her continue, slowly bracing herself for whatever was bound to be revealed. This deep pit nestled in her stomach, gravity weighing her down as anxiety built up inside pouring out of her as she continuously carded her fingers through the ends of her knotty hair.

“I’m so fucking sorry for lying t’you, and for keeping shit a secret -- even though I was told to -- and I need you to know that it has been my fault for you not knowing any sooner than tonight.“

“You’re really sca--”

Trin gave her a pointed look, causing her to shut her mouth nearly immediately. “Do you… remember when Damien, uh, the guy from before, asked you about Greek mythology?” Calista nodded her head in remembrance, choosing to keep her mouth shut in fear of being told to shut up again.

“The reason he asked you is because, well, it’s not exactly a myth. It’s quite real and well, you’re a part of it. And by that I mean uh… you’re the daughter of the goddess Athena.”

❊ ❊

Calista couldn’t fall asleep that night.

She laid in bed, covers pulled up to her chest as she stared up at the ceiling, hands resting on her chest as the last of her tears dried on her skin. Her mind hasn’t given her a moment to calm down, thought after thought popping up as question after question runs around, giving her feeling after feeling of all different types of emotions.

She wasn’t happy, that much was for certain given the circumstances. I don’t think anyone can have their life flipped upside down so drastically and be happy about it. But, she wasn’t exactly sad about it either. It’s not everyday someone finds out they’re a literal demigod. Truth is, she doesn’t really know how to feel, because how does one feel when they find out why her life turned out the way it had?

When she came to college, this wasn’t the Greek life she imagined herself joining.

Her mother, Athena, goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft met her father twenty-one years ago. Her father wanted nothing to do with her and well, Athena couldn’t exactly be a proper mother with her god duties and such, so Calista was left alone. It’s said that her mother watches over her everyday, but if that were true why would she allow her daughter to lead such an awful life?

When Calista was thirteen, supposedly people had come to her house to take her to her awaited lifestyle, something she never knew happened. But, her foster mother at the time told them she didn’t want to go with them and that she was happy where she was -- which was a complete lie, because that woman most likely slapped her five minutes prior. Conveniently, not even two weeks later Calista was transferred to a different home because the woman couldn’t take care of her anymore.

This explains her interest in classical studies, considering she’s technically part of those studies, but her choice to Cambridge was a complete chance, in Trin’s words. But, when news spread that she was coming over seas, that’s when these people felt it was finally time to reel her in. Calista isn’t exactly sure who these people are, because Trinity was pretty vague in her explanations, but from what she can gather, they’re other demigods and mythological creatures and whatever else that are part of this life.

Aside from this whole new truth being exposed to her, the thing battling with her most is what she’s gonna do about Trinity. She’s her best friend, she loves her more than she loves herself, but she can’t put aside the fact that she literally kept the biggest secret of her life from her, because she wasn’t ready to tell her. Trinity was being selfish, and Calista doesn’t know what to do.

All her life she’s dealt with people being the worst to her, and for once she thought someone was different. Turns out, everyone is a liar and chooses to be the worst possible person in front of her. It’s this constant tug of war going on in her brain, that she’ll never be good enough for anything or anyone, and the moment she accepted that, she got Trin. But of course, that was ripped right from her, just like everything else.

Fuck, she’s not even good enough to be a demigod.

The following few days they had hardly spoken to one another. Calista because she was still holding this frustrated anger within her that she’s not exactly certain how to express without blowing her top; And Trin, afraid to get her head chewed off with a promising breakdown following on her part. They were walking on eggshells around one another, to the point they sort of avoided each other to the best of their abilities in their small apartment.

The first time they genuinely spoke was when Trinity said she had to bring Cal to a discreet location where she’ll get more answers from people that know just a little bit more. It was explained though that this is where Trinity ventured off to in the summertime when she went away on “vacation.” Vacation just simply meaning travelling to this camp/school site where she trains and learns more about her true heritage.

It’s hard for Calista to understand what exactly she’s training for, but she guesses that’s why this little trip to this place is necessary.

When they arrived, she was in pure awe at the inspiration of old Greek architecture, noticing the ionic columns lining the front of the big building. Μυθολογία was nestled into the marble, the translation from Greek meaning Mythology, which Trin had mentioned at some point that the name of this place was simply named Mythology because that’s what all of this is supposed to be.

A myth.

“This is where everyone basically sleeps and where we train if it’s raining. There are also a few offices for like, the ancients, so,” Trinity explained, walking them up the set of steps that led them to the main door.

Calista could hardly pay attention to what her friend was saying as she gawked at the intricate and beautiful layout of the foyer in front of her, admiring the various statues and paintings that contained her… mother. “She’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she?” A voice spoke behind her, causing her to whip her head around, coming face to face with an older man that had greying hair and a few wrinkles lining his face.

Oh, and one eye.

“Stunning,” she replied, taking one more look at the goddess before giving her full attention to the man.

“I’m Mr. Cirillo. It’s an honor to meet you, Calista,” he stuck his hand out, which she grasped in her own, shaking it firmly, trying not to stare too hard at the fact that he has one eye but she also doesn’t want to be rude and not give eye contact.

She gulped, taking a look at Trin who was busy on her phone, before smiling softly back up at the tall man. “I’m sorry… I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this,” she apologized, taking in a deep breath and looking at the few people that walked by them in the foyer, making an awkward eye contact as they started whispering to themselves about her.

Great, even when she’s meant to fit in, she still can’t.

“Believe me, it would be more concerning if it wasn’t a lot to take in. I’m not going to overload you just yet, Trinity will be showing you where you’ll be staying and then head to the cafeteria, you must be hungry from the ride here,” he suggested, placing his hand on hers and Trin’s shoulders, guiding them in the direction they were meant to be.

Then, Trinity was taking her hand, leading her up the grand staircase in front of them, leading them down endless hallways to finally get to their shared room. It was a decently sized room, half of it clearly inhabited by Trin as it was messy and had a few of her signature posters lining the wall. The other half however was very empty, only adorned by the full size bed and wardrobe and small nightstand table. “You’ve been set as my roommate since I first moved in,” Trinity spoke quietly, picking at her fingernails as she sat on the edge of her own bed.

Calista nodded her head, setting her suitcase down next to her bed. Walking over to the window seat, sitting herself down on the soft blue cushion, overlooking what must be a courtyard as across from her just seemed to be more rooms that were down a different hallway. They both sat in silence for some odd minutes before Calista took the plunge and said, “I just wish you told me.”

Nearly immediately Trinity responded, jumping up from her seat and padding over to her friend, standing a couple feet away. “I’m so sorry, Lis. I have no good reason to explain why I didn’t, but I regret it so fucking much. I shouldn’t have been selfish and I need you to know I’m just so, so sorry. I probably screwed up your trust in me, but I’m going to do whatever I can to fix this.”

Both of their eyes watered, emotions flooding through both of them as they wind up in a few more moments of silence. They’ve never not talked or hardly ever got in fights, and by this point, they were both just sick of the never ending silence and wished everything could just go back to the way it was. But, it can’t, though they’ll both do everything they can to resume some sort of normalcy and hopefully repair this strained relationship.

Calista looked to her friend, nodding her head in a silent acknowledgement that she knows she’s going to try hard, and stands up to bring her in for a hug. It was the most awkward hug of their life, but it definitely was a start. They both cried a bit, but when they separated they raised their hands and wiped away each other’s tears, laughing a bit to themselves.

Sniffling, Trin stood straighter, gesturing around the room, “Alright, well this is our lovely humble abode. You can do whatever you want to your side and uh… Oh! These small little statues,” she pointed to the small sculptures that were in little cubbies by the window, “are our mothers. So, y’know, Athena is on your side and Artemis is on mine. As if we don’t see their faces around here enough, but honestly I think it’s so no funny business can go down in our rooms because, well, our parents are watching which is weird.”

“Trinity Kim, has any funny business gone down in this room?” Calista questions, raising her eyebrow at her friend. She immediately turned red at the inquiry, turning hot on her heel and over to the door. “C’mon, let’s get some food before it’s all eaten.”

Calista gasped at her blatant avoidal of the question, “Trin!”

❊ ❊

There were a lot of people around. A lot more than Calista could expect.

And surprisingly, aside from when she first entered and people were whispering about her, a lot of people were completely welcoming. She was the talk of the town apparently, everyone knowing who she was and crowding around her to introduce themselves. She felt bad since she had not a clue who any of them were but it seems none of them cared.

The thing that surprised her most was to see Niall, another friend of hers and Trin’s that went to school with them, here. It makes her wonder who else she knows from school that’s here.

And apparently Niall is the son of Poseidon? Which is pretty fucking cool, and explains a lot about him, like his obsession with pool sports. Or, just water in general.

But, now that she knows Niall’s here, she wonders if he’s who’s been in her room with Trin. She tried to pry it out of her friend before, and she was so close to getting an answer, but then Niall came over to them and she immediately shut up.

She also saw those two people from the other night, Damien and Wren, that sat by themselves in the corner of the grand room, seeming completely uninterested in anything that involved everyone else. Trinity had explained that they think they’re better than everyone else here so they hardly take time out of their day to engage with others.

Damien’s Zeus’ son, so because his father is Mr. Almighty, he basically thinks he holds that same title, when in reality he’s just a dickhead. He’s mediocre at best at combat, with or without weapons, and is just plain rude and egotistical. Wren is the daughter of Ares, so she thinks she’s something special because she’s the best female fighter this place has ever seen. Which, it’s pretty cool to be the best, but that doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch about it.

Their whole dinner, Trin and Niall tried giving her the scoop of everyone deemed necessary -- their words -- but one person in particular stood out to her. He was on the opposite side of the room, and even though he’s sitting at a table, it looks like everyone sitting with him, is there just because he is. Calista could admit it is difficult to not pay attention to him, his vibrant smile and glowing aura drawing anyone to him.

His name’s Harry, and according to Niall, he’s the best male soldier this place has ever seen. It was hard for Niall to admit it, but he can’t avoid the truth. Unlike Damien who despised Harry for it, them two supposedly always going head to head about who was better. “Damien can never get the hint that he, well, sucks ass,” Niall digressed, sipping on his drink, raising his eyebrows in an ‘I’m not wrong’ manner.

It also doesn’t help Damien’s case that Harry is a genuinely nice guy. Aside from the battle field, Harry will go out of his way to help anyone, bringing joy and happiness to everyone around him. He’s the son of Apollo, god of the sun which makes sense since this guy basically radiates energy like he himself is the sun.

He was definitely someone she wanted to befriend, and she’s a little saddened he was part of the masses that had introduced themselves to her earlier.

“He’s right. A lot of people wish they were as good as Harry, but it sort of just comes, uh, natural to him,” Trin shrugs in agreement. Calista looks past her friends to take a look at him one more time, noticing he’s no longer sat at his table anymore.

But, then a voice speaks from right next to her, startling her and causing her to jump in her seat as she notices the guy suddenly sitting next to her. “You always know how to warm my heart Trin,” he smiles, placing his hand on his chest over where his beating muscle lies, before extending it out to the new girl.

“Hi, I’m Harry.”

Never mind, she’s happy again.

Calista takes his hand now, shaking it with a response of her name, all but falling in love with him immediately on the spot. How is someone allowed to be this good looking? It surely must be a crime.

“How’re you liking things so far?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked on hers and a small smile on his face, as if he was always such a happy person.

Calista swallowed, “I’m adjusting.”

“Understandable. It’s easy getting used to though, especially since you already have some friends here,” he smiled kindly, bringing his hand up to brush through the few fallen strands of hair that adorned his forehead.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” another person spoke from behind her, everyone’s eyes snapping towards the direction it came from. Wren stood at the end of their table, a cynical smirk plastered on her face as a bored looking Damien stood behind her. “Nice to see you again, Newbie.”

Though the tone in her voice suggested otherwise. So, Calista called her out on it, “Is it?”

Wren scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically as a drawn out groan escaped her mouth. “Let me guess, they told you how I’m the biggest bitch around and that all I care about is staying at the top.”

Calista looked around at her silent friends, nodding her head in agreement, “Mm, yup.”

“Good, then we have an understanding. Don’t get in my way, and I won’t get in yours,” she grinned, placing the palms of her hands flat on the table as she leaned forward, her face about a foot away from Calista’s.

It was clear she was trying to be intimidating, her stern face probably scaring away anyone she laid her eyes on. Though, just like a few nights ago, Cal was far from scared. Something about this girl was far from threatening, so without a second thought, Calista leaned her face a bit closer, a small smirk of her own forming on her mouth.

She didn’t like bullies, and she was tired of running away from them.

“And if I do?”

Wren’s eyes lowered into slits, her smirk dropping as her upper lip nearly raised into a snarl, clearly not enjoying the fact that someone wasn’t intimidated by her.

“You’ll wish you didn’t.” And with that, she stood back up, skimming her eyes over Calista again before walking away, grabbing Damien by the wrist dragging him away from his little glare-off with Harry.

“Wow…” Niall, spoke up, looking around to his friends, “I hate them.”

“Oh my gods!” Trin gasped, pulling on her friend’s hands, tugging her nearly halfway across the table. “Lis, we’ve got Leaderships in a few weeks, you’re gonna beat her.”

Calista looked to her Trinity in confusion, scrunching her eyebrows together as to what the fuck she was talking about. “Um, what’s Leaderships?”

“It’s basically just ranking everybody in order of first line of defense to last,” Niall explained.

“So, Harry here is the best male, and Wren takes pride in being the best female, but, I think with a couple weeks of good training, you can knock her right off that fucking pedestal of hers,” Trin continued, smiling with excitement and shaking Calista’s hands vigorously.

It was a tempting offer. Being new and being the best sure had its perks. But, even though she can’t stand the girl, Calista can’t see herself surpassing Wren. That girl has probably trained her whole life to be where she is, there’s no way a new girl, who didn’t even know this place existed a couple days ago, can sweep in after a few weeks and take that position.

It was tempting, but it was near impossible.

“Trin, I don’t think that’s gonna be possib--”

“A few days ago you didn’t even think this was possible, yet here we are. Anything is possible, plus with help from us, and the fact you’re mother is the goddess of battle strategy, you’re destined to be the best. Right guys?” she turned to the two guys who were caught up in their own conversation, not paying attention to a thing she said.

Niall yelped in pain, his shin burning from the ferocious kick Trin delivered to him. “Wha’ was that for?!”

“Trin, why don’t you just beat her?”

She scoffed at the question in return, “I’ve tried. The bitch is a fucking cheater though, nearly sliced my achilles tendon in two.”

“So--”

“But, it’s time someone else takes a hold of that precious title of hers,” Trin finished, letting go of her friend’s hands now.

“She’s right,” Harry spoke from beside them, looking away from them and to the corner the couple had resided back into. “Both of them think they run the fucking world, and it’s getting t’be a bit sickening.”

Looking back at the curly haired girl, he smirked, sitting up just a bit straighter, “Whaddya say, love, wanna be the best?”

The first thought that popped into Calista’s mind though, was how the fuck did her life change so much?

#HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED!#mythology series #harry styles series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles au #harry styles x ofc #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles soft #1d fanfiction #1d fanfic #one direction fanfiction #harry styles

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ironxkid · 3 years ago

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((sdghdfhj okay okay, lemme try to explain my thoughts a bit better in regards to this post - pls bear with me bc I’m very tired and my brain has been basically dead all day rip

anyway, so what I need to do in general (and what will relate to my au idea), is rewrite the ikau verse to include that Obadiah had been working alongside Killian before his death during AoU. It’s all for the money, of course. After all, how could the government say no to them if they’re presenting ways to make the military stronger? Killian is offering extremis - a way to make enhanced soldiers, and Obadiah is offering armor - a perfected design of the Iron Man suit to create iron soldiers. Carter wouldn’t know about this - she wouldn’t be aware of Killian or extremis, and wouldn’t realize that, not only was Obadiah forcing her to keep the Iron Man mantle as a means to control it, but also so she could work on perfecting the suit for him, so he would only have to worry about production later down the line. In the ikau, Obadiah dies before that partnership begins to work out the remaining kinks - Ultron confronts him to find Klaue, and he tries to take control of a situation where he never had any; his own arrogance spelling his demise. But, Obadiah would survive for the au of the ikau, with Ultron never going to him to begin with, leaving Carter stuck under his control, and leaving her spiraling out. AoU is one of her final breaking points - she’s horrified by what Ultron’s done, and fully blames herself for everything that had happened - practically drowning in her own mistakes, and refusing to see how Obadiah had pressured her into creating Ultron to begin with. She’s giving up, and no longer sees reason to try and please Obadiah or anyone else. She’s fucked up, what reputation she has is in shambles (or so she believes), and she’s obliterated her father’s legacy (again, or so she believes) - she doesn’t see the need to make nice, or to make herself to be a soldier when she’s so clearly not one. Obadiah sees this, and sees this as a threat - much like how he viewed Tony before he plotted Tony’s death

Killian and Obadiah... don’t get along very well, but they’re dangerously good at business. They’re both manipulative, both in need to have control, and often clash with how to approach what to do - Killian cares more for money than who he gives extremis to, and Obadiah is set in his ways of creating weapons for the US military, though still has little care if he sells to the highest bidder under the table. Both want money, and both agree that combining their products can make them near invincible. But Carter starts figuring things out. Maybe she sees Killian one day, or maybe she sees or overhears Obadiah talking to him or discussing extremis. Maybe she doesn’t even know about any of that, and instead comes across proof of Obadiah’s involvement with her father’s kidnapping and later death. But she becomes a threat, either to Obadiah or Killian or both, but Obadiah knows he needs to be careful to push Carter out while keeping up his ruse. So, he figures out something that paints Carter as... questionable. Maybe she’s connected to things she shouldn’t be, or maybe he begins to plant seeds of doubt in the minds of others before eventually spurring it further to have them turn against her. Either way, Carter sees this, but... instead of defending herself, she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t deny any accusations or claims, but doesn’t accept them either. She stays silent, and her silence is louder than anything she could say. She sees the game Obadiah’s playing, and is figuring out her own way to play it, too - and to her, that means making him think he won while she worked off the board to bring him down

or... maybe Killian gets tired of Obadiah. He sees the Iron Man suits to be nothing more than a dream - that Carter would never allow her designs to be used for mass production, and that Obadiah was getting nowhere in claiming the designs from her. So, one day, it’s discovered Obadiah’s dead, clearly having been killed, and Carter’s nowhere to be found. No one wants to believe she would do such a thing, but it’s still suspicious either way, and she’s left hiding from the others as she tries to pull apart everything that Obadiah had gotten himself into, and trying to find a way to bring Killian down in the process. She goes about it alone, because she believes it to be safer for everyone if she went in by herself and took Killian down - because, that way, they would both be the ones dead rather than her dragging everyone else down with her. But... also because she doesn’t know who to trust, because the one person she had trusted the most had betrayed her in more ways than one and it destroyed the shaky foundation she had been standing on

either way, it’s not permanent. Her name is cleared and the truth is revealed, and Carter takes time away from being an Avenger - letting herself heal and recover and slowly come to terms with everything that happened, while staying with the people who actually love her (Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey, because they had been there from the start and she’s closer to them than to the Avengers if only due to the lies she had been fed by Obadiah), but is later dragged back into it when Thanos decides he needs to correct the balance of the universe

also I just want more ikau threads where Carter puts herself between another muse and danger to protect them dsfgjhdfj - she’s absolutely emotionally stunted to hell and back and may not act like she cares but she really does

#ooc #death tw #wishlist #abuse tw #kidnapping mention tw #((like if I do this I'd pull a line Rhodey says to Tony in im2 and call it 'lone gunslinger act'#oR! call it 'dont make me be the bad guy' after the song by MALINDA bc I love that song and I'm honestly kinda basing #the au around it sgjhsfgdlshjdf #but also I've played with the idea in the past of Obadiah destroying Carter's reputation in a way to regain control over her only to have i #blow up in his face when she turns it right back around on him #but hopefully this makes sense sdfghjsgfd - again I'm very tired and I'm honestly tempted just to play the sims for a while before I go to #bed and then try to write later when I wake up bc I don't work today))

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phillipsgraves · 4 years ago

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@jmcolt asked for corpos + a lingering kiss before a long trip apart and uhh whew. pre-outer worlds, not beta-read bc i'm surprised i even finished this

ship: venus/rockwell

wc: 2161

warnings: none

2344.

Venus was done.

She was tired. Tired of living in Byzantium. Tired of having the same argument with her parents, over and over again. Tired of never living up to the expectations they had set up for her. Who were they to dictate what she did with her life, anyhow? Last she checked, that decision fell to her, and her alone.

Well, tonight, she's made her choice.

From here on out, there would be no more of this. No more flying around in a gilded cage wondering if this was all life was cut out to be. Venus knows it's not. Byzantium was small compared to the rest of Halcyon-- how could her parents be certain she had all she could ever want here, when she sees so much more in the stars?

No, enough was enough. And so, a plan clear in her mind, Venus sneaks out. She walks as fast as her feet could take her, carrying nothing but a few sets of clothes that would last a little wear and tear out in the colony, and a generous amount of bits that she may or may not have swiped from her parents. They were filthy rich, anyway-- whatever money she took was most likely just pocket change to them. She'd head straight down to the freight docks and hop on the first ship that leaves this city behind.

Venus isn't sure where she wants to go yet-- maybe mercenary work on the Groundbreaker? She's decent with a gun, and an even better negotiator. Whatever helps her scrounge up enough bits to maybe get a ship of her own and go where her heart desires.

It's an ambitious goal, she admits, but baby steps. First, she'll get out of Byzantium, and the rest should all fall into place. And getting out was easy when you knew the right people.

Although, carrying a fair amount of bits wouldn't hurt her chances, either.

Venus is halfway across the estates when she hears it. It's faint, barely audible, but it was definitely there. Someone's footsteps. Immediately, she knew it wasn't either of her parents. Chances were, they'd only find out she was missing after she was already long gone.

No, only one other person knew of her plans to leave-- because he'd been the only person she trusted not to tell anyone. Of course, Venus hadn't thought of the odds of him trying to stop her, instead. It still doesn't change a thing, however, and she doesn't stop walking.

"Don't try and change my mind, James," Venus says, and she keeps her eyes ahead. "It won't work. I've made my decision, and I'm leaving Byzantium."

Before she knows it, the man in question is standing right in front of her, hands braced against her shoulders to steady her.

"I know," Rockwell says, and he's grinning at her as if he had merely caught her taking a stroll around the city and not just about to make the biggest decision of her life. "I'm not here to stop you. I wanted to walk with you."

Venus looks unimpressed. "Really?"

Rockwell snorts, offering his hand. "C'mon, V. You really think I'd let you go that easy without even saying goodbye? If your parents ask, I'll tell them I haven't seen you."

Venus rolls her eyes, but she nonetheless grabs onto his hand, letting Rockwell pull her to his side. "Please. Chances are, you'll be clinging to my leg, begging me not to go."

Rockwell laughs, but the humor's not all there, as if she had guessed correctly. "Close enough," he says, swinging their hands. How juvenile, he notes. Like teenagers fooling around. "I was actually going to ask you to let me come with you. I can be pretty handy with a gun, you know."

She'll say no. She always had. They'd been through this countless times-- the Board would never stop hunting them when they learn the Chairman's son was missing. He was needed here, and here was where he'd stay.

Rockwell holds back a scoff. Like Byzantium's ever done him any favors.

Just as he surmised, Venus shakes her head. "You know you can't," she says, laughing when she notices the sour look on his face. "And judging by your expression, I think you already know why." She reaches up, gently patting his cheek. "Chin up, James. I'll be sure to send you a postcard if you end up missing me too much."

"You know it's not the same," Rockwell tells her, squeezing her hand. He opens his mouth, but the words don't leave him. He shakes his head and laughs again. "Nevermind, it's rather silly, don't you think?" He continues when Venus raises an eyebrow in question. "I mean... what are we, V?"

Venus hums, as if she wasn't entirely sure herself. She looks up at the night sky, then at him. She looks... serene, all things considered. "Well, anything you want us to be, James."

"Do you love me, Venus?"

Venus looks surprised, but she ultimately nods, squeezing his hand in return. "I do. I honestly do." She doesn't know she's crying until Rockwell's reaching over to wipe her face. She lets out a watery laugh. "Now, look what you did. You're making a big deal out of all of this."

"Me? All I did was ask a question," Rockwell teases, gently caressing her cheek. "You ever think you'll come back?" To me, he mentally tacks on, but he doesn't say it. He clears his throat. "To Byzantium, I mean."

"Do I need a reason to?"

Rockwell actually does scoff this time. Infuriating to the end, she was, and he doesn't think he wants that to change. "What, I'm not reason enough?"

Venus hums. "Maybe," she replies, looking down at their hands. "Why, you'll promise me you'll take me away from all of this?"

"You're doing all that on your own," Rockwell points out. "No, I just want you." He pulls her closer by the waist. "Make life in Byzantium a little more tolerable."

"Ah, yes, the future Chairman of the Board has come to rescue me." Venus snorts. "And you said you weren't going to try and convince me to stay."

He wants to. By the Architect, he wants to. But Venus would never agree to it, and the last thing Rockwell would ever want was to tie her down. In all the years he's known Venus, he's since learned that she's always been a free spirit, never to be confined in one place. To one person, maybe? But never one place.

He shakes his head. "I wasn't. I'm just saying that if you ever decide to come back..." He grins at her again. "You know where to find me."

"Goodness," Venus remarks, wiping a stray tear from her eye. "You really are going to miss me, aren't you?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"Maybe I'll come back," Venus replies, and before she knows it, they've arrived at the elevator to the freighter docks. She almost doesn't want to step in, but she does so before she has a chance to change her mind. Rockwell enters after her, holding his hands up when she gives him another look.

"I'm just going to walk you to whatever ship you decide to stowaway on."

Venus shakes her head. "Sure," she says, and to both their surprises, she finds herself nestling in between his arms. "If I ever come back, I'd like you to know that it'd be for you."

Rockwell hums, resting a hand against the small of her back. "Nice to know you think so highly of me, V."

Venus laughs, smacking his chest. "I'm being serious. Would you wait for me?" She looks up at him, then, expression expectant.

"I'll wait," Rockwell replies, and there's something unreadable in his expression that Venus can't quite place. It looked like remorse-- or perhaps a longing for something they never quite had. "For as long as you want. Halcyon could collapse for all I care, but I'll be here waiting."

Venus steps away from him when the elevator reaches their stop. "You ought to write poetry, Mr. Chairman," she teases, linking their arms. "But if you'll wait, then... I see no reason not to come back," she tells him, casually leaning against him.

They're getting closer to the end now, Venus thinks. Eventually he'll let go and walk away, and... well, who knows if that'll be the end of it. For a moment, she ponders. Would things have turned out differently if they had just... pursued whatever this was? Or would it have made no difference, besides making this moment hurt all the more.

"We're here," Rockwell suddenly says, effectively pulling Venus away from her thoughts. "You sure about this, V? You're a lot safer here in Byzantium, you know." A pause. "None of that waiting business, too."

Venus swallows hard. "I'm sure," she says, looking back at him. She gives Rockwell a soft look. "Consider it a test. If you're still waiting for me by the time I return, then I'd say you've more than earned my affection."

Chuckling, Rockwell reaches up to caress her cheek. "I'm a patient man. Be careful out there, alright? I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

"I will," Venus says, looking between him and the nearest ship. She clears her throat. "Well, um... I guess this is it," she says, taking a step away. "It's been…" she trails off, unsure of what to say. Good? What part of this whole thing was good? Though, she figures it was the right thing to say. "It's been--"

"It's been good," Rockwell says for her, taking both her hands. "You know, I really am going to miss you, Venus."

"I'll miss you too, but--" Venus sighs, pulling him back into her arms. "I think this is what I need. Just... some time away."

"I believe you," Rockwell says, and he seems almost hesitant to let go. "Don't forget about me when you're out travelling around the colony."

"I don't think I could if I tried," Venus says, beaming up at him. "Don't worry, I was being serious about the postcards. That way, you'll always know where I am." She reaches up, then, gently patting his cheek. "Alright, well, we've wasted enough time. I should go." She reaches for his hand and gives him one last squeeze. "I'll be seeing you, James," Venus says-- no, promises, and she starts to head off.

She doesn't get very far, however, when Rockwell calls after her. "Hey, V!" He says, and he tries not to let too much of his emotions show. "What, no kiss goodbye?"

For the longest moment, Venus merely stares at him. If Rockwell looked hard enough, he might've seen the gears turning in her head, pondering what to do, and if really should do it. Before he can even begin to play it off as a bad joke, she's running towards him. He just about catches her when she leaps into his arms, all-but smashing her lips against his.

It was funny, Rockwell thinks, that their first kiss might also be their last. It would've been funny, at least, if it hadn't also been macabre and just a little bit tragic. He kisses her back just as fervently as she did, a hand resting at the back of her head. When he pulls away, he's still mere inches away from her, lips still lingering close.

"I love you, V. Come back, alright?"

Venus grins. "I could promise you that, but wouldn't it be more fun to keep you in suspense?"

Rockwell rolls his eyes. "You're insufferable."

Venus gently pats his cheek. "I love you too, James. Don't miss me too much now," she teases before finally, finally pulls away from him. "I'll keep in touch, don't worry," she tells him, and with that she finally heads off.

Rockwell watches her walk off, before clearly bargaining her way onto a ship. He doesn't leave just yet, instead watching until the ship takes off and disappears out of sight. He can't help but just feel a small tinge of disappointment-- he'd been hoping she'd change her mind at the last minute, maybe jump back into his arms and realize he'd been all she needed all this time.

It was foolish to think so, of course, but he'd been hoping all the same.

He went home miserable that day. How could he have been anything but? Venus wasn't coming back-- she most likely only said she would because it'd make him feel better. Technically she didn't say anything like that, but he figured she implied it. And it did-- for about five minutes until the realization hit him. He'd lost her.

That is, until, something addressed to him shows up in the mail a few weeks later, with the scent of her perfume somehow still on it.

A postcard from Monarch, with writing carefully scribbled onto the back in what was clearly her handwriting.

'Miss me?'

Rockwell snorts. Typical Venus to make a game out of all of this, but he wastes no time in replying.

Isn't it obvious?

#cringe hours are now #man i really finished this huh #oc: venus rockwell #x: corporate assholes #chairman rockwell #the outer worlds #my writing

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jentlemahae · 4 years ago

Note

hi! I am here to inquire about the plot of dream verse 💓

under the cut bcs i got carried away

EP 1: Dive Into You

It is no secret that 20-year-olf Park Jisung was born in luck. He was the full package – tall, handsome, smart, good-hearted, skilled at sports, and extremely rich. His family had found wealth 25 years before, when his grandfather (Park Haru) started the hot sauce business that would become the most successful hot sauce business in South Korea – DREAM FLAVOR. No one knew exactly how he had done it, as it seemed to have happened in the blink of an eye – people always asked him, but all he would do was wink and say, ‘I just had a spark of good luck’. But no one knew how true that was.

Jisung always looked up to his grandfather, and trusted every single word that came out of his mouth. His step-father (Jae-yi), however, had a much different opinion on the old man. He thought Haru was a total nut case, always nagging him obsessing over that damn candle. Truth be told, he did sort of have a point. Haru had a candle he was extremely secretive about, which he kept in a locked room beside his bedroom. You know, the “normal” place where people keep candles. As he was growing up, he always told Jisung that the candle was actually far more precious than it seemed, and that he should never let it blow out. A bunch of popicocks, as his father would say, but Jisung never forgot it.

He still didn’t forget it on that cold day of early May – that is, the day his grandfather died. Some people say death isn’t lonely, but that’s exactly how Jisung felt. Haru was not just his grandpa – he was his role model, his teacher, and most of all, his friend. On his will, he decidedto give Jisung a key to the candle’s room with a note that said, ‘I’m giving my spark of good luck to you and ONLY you. Use it well’. Jisung was torn because he wanted to trust that the last words his grandpa said to him were meaningful, but he couldn’t help but think, ‘What’s this old nut saying?’. Nonetheless, he took the key and went into the ominous room, with nothing but hope as his company. The candle was burning in the center of the dark windowless room, untouched and unsettling. It was just a normal candle you could find at a local market, yet something about the flame made it impossible to look away. Unsure of what to do, he decided to just leave and go home to try to forget about the whole thing. Yet, the trembling flame kept haunting his dreams for the entire night.

The next day, Jisung’s father decided it was time to move into Haru’s house and turn it upside down, with no care to the fact that the body of Haru was almost not even cold yet. He wanted to clean each room, but he couldn’t get into the candle room. Jisung was unsure of what to do – he did think his grandfather was bananas, but he also didn’t want to disrespect the only legacy he had left him. So, he refused to give up the key, and instead offered to clean the room himself. After dusting every inch of the area, he opened the door to let some air in. But as the wind was roaring outside, a sudden violent breeze came through the door and blew the candle out. Jisung rushed over and then ran to get a box of matches, to try to light it up as quickly as possible. However, no match seemed to work, as the fire appeared to refuse to burn again. With a wretched feeling in his gut, he immediately left and went back home to take a nap, trying to tell himself that it was nothing big. Boy, was he wrong…

When Jisung woke up from his nap, the sight that welcomed him was not what he expected – a young boy with blue hair and a green hoodie was sitting on the floor across from his bed. ‘Hi, I’m Mark’, he said – simple words that scared Jisung to his very bones. Raddled and very confused, Jisung decided to call his 5 friends – Renjun, Jeno, Haechan, Jaemin, and Chenle – and asked them to come over, hoping that together they would be able to make sense of the situation. But alas, they did not. As they watched Mark ravaging Jisung’s fridge as if he hadn’t eaten in a decade, they tried to come up with a game plan.

However, quick-tempered Haechan quickly lost his patience, and told Mark either he left on his own, or they were going to call the police. At which Mark looked at Jisung in disbelief and asked him if his grandfather hadn’t told him anything about him. Utterly confused, the boy shook his head, and so Mark told his story to the 6 googly-eyed friends…

Mark was 500-year-old spirit, born under the Joseon dynasty. Once he died, a witch bounded him to the candle – whenever someone lit it, Mark would bring good fortune and money to their family as long as the flame was burning. If it was blown out, the fortune would stop and Mark could wander the earth freely until someone new lighted it again.

The 6 friends exchanged a look and knew they were all thinking the same thing – they had to light that candle up once again.

(end of ep 1, now I’m gonna go more quickly omg this is so long I’m genuinely sorry)

EP 2: Rainbow

Mark overhears a convo between the others and becomes aware of the fact that they want to put him back inside the candle, but obviously he doesn’t want to. So he makes a pact with them to have 3 days of freedom, and he plans on stealing the candle in the meantime. He wants to go to the beach, so the 7 of them go on a road trip.

The 7 of them do some bonding and Mark tells them more of this story. He was born in a family of slaves and had grown up seeing all the injustices inflicted upon his people by the hands of the hierarchs. So, one day he decided to take matters into his own hands and began retaliating, by stealing from the royals to help his family. But his anger for revenge couldn’t stop at just stealing – he wanted the blood of those who had hurt his people. So, when he died, the witch put him there as a punishment for the murders.

They find out he’s a nice guy so they don’t want to put him back into the candle, as they realize he should have a chance to live too. So Mark tells them there is a way he can be out but still have access to his powers – they need the help of the witch who put him there. Obviously she’s dead by now but her power ran through her family, so she must have a descendant who is able to help them.

EP 3: Diggity

The witch who put him there was called Man Wol Lee and, as they find out, was an ancestor of Haechan. He doesn’t have magic but his twin sister – Hae-soo – does. So they go to her and try their best to convince her (Mark is the only one who manages to get through to her). In the meantime – Haru’s business (who is now in the hands of Jisung’s father) begins to go into trouble + Mark is staying as Jisung’s house (as he’s usually by himself anyway since his parents both work a lot) so the two have a lot of talks and stuff (e.g. Mark explains that when the candle is lit, he is stuck in a limbo called the Dreamverse – i.e. a place stuck between life and death where he has to face his own worst nightmares + tells him how he had met Haru). Anyways, they get Hae-soo to try something witchy so she channels Man Wol’s spirit with a spell book they found (and that Mark translated since he knew old Korean). They find out Mark and Man Wol used to be lovers (uh) in the old times, and she was the one who killed him and then forced him into the candle because she wanted to stop his lust for blood. She tells them the only way to free Mark is to bind someone else to the candle, to replace him.

EP 4: Irreplaceable

(+ Mark starts being mean to Hae-soo bcs he’s mad at Man Wol) They conclude the person they lock up should be a bad person + they don’t wanna kill them so they should find someone who justdied. So they go to the hospital but don’t find anyone (un)worthy enough (they know bcs Mark see what someone has been like while they were alive bcs of a spirit thingy).

*some shit happens*

They discover the candle got stolen. They search for a while, but then Mark disappears – someone must have lighted the candle again.

EP 5: Be There For You

Hae-soo does a locator spell so they’re able to find the candle, and discover that it’s now in possession of Vincenzo Cassano, one of the biggest mafia bosses in South Korea (he had heard of the candle’s powers and he wanted to use it). The 6 boys go to him to try to blow the candle out and free Mark, but they get caught and are taken hostage (they are taken to a storage area near Vincenzo’s house). Thankfully, Hae-soo followed them and blew the candle out, so Mark goes to free them but when he’s about to kill Vincenzo to protect Hae-soo, he can’t bcs spirits can’t kill the people who used to “own” them, so Jisung throws himself in the middle and gets shot instead. To stop him from dying, Hae-soo puts him in the candle.

EP 6: All Night Long

They realize Vincenzo has fled and has taken the candle. So there are two “realities” in the episode.

On one hand, there’s Jisung who is in the Dreamverse. There he sees a world exactly like his true reality BUT everything goes wrong – his grandfather is alive but tells him he’s a disappointment + his mother dies at Jisung’s hands + Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, Chenle and Haechan force him to kill Hae-soo + they then try to kill him so he has to run away.

*BACKSTORY: Jisung’s father died before he was born + then his mother re-married but then she dies as well when he was 16 + Jisung never got along with Jae-yi and even less after the death of his mom

On the other hand, the others are trying to figure out how to bring Jisung back. Hae-soo and Mark contact Man Wol to ask her more information – she tells them they can enter Dreamverse (with her help ofc) and can help Jisung find an “exit”, which Mark couldn’t use since Man Wol made it impossible for him to access to ensure he would not escape. Jisung can use it bcs the prison world was not created for him. Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, Haechan and Chenle go to Vincenzo’s house to try to find something to track him down (since the locator spell doesn’t work). But when they go there they find Vincenzo’s dead body and no trace of the candle.

EP 7: Rocket

Two “realities” again.

Mark and Hae-soo go in Dreamverseto rescue Jisung (they find him first and the two mend fences). They convince him they’re real (bcs he’s kinda going bananas and can’t distinguish the Dreamversefrom reality) + they take him to the exit which is a door located in the middle of Dreamverse – the door is the door to the ‘candle’s room’ at Haru’s house. They go there (struggling bcs the others try to stop them + it takes a lot of energy for Hae-soo to keep them inside so she’s weak) and manage to get out (yay!).

Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, Haechan and Chenle look at the CCTV (Haechan hacks into it) but they can’t see who killed Vincenzo (bcs there’s no cameras in that room) BUT there’s one in the garage so they can see the car of the person who killed him à the car plate! They recognize it so they know who’s the owner. They go back to Hae-soo’s to find them all out + tell them who is the killer (and has the candle) – Jisung’s step-father, Jae-yi.

EP 8: Hot Sauce

Jisung is out BUT he’s not human – he’s a spirit, both alive and dead at the same time (so he can’t feel touch and stuff, that’s important for later). + Jisung has a talk with Hae-soo to thank him for saving her life and apologize for putting him in that situation. He replies that he’s the one who’s thankful bcs she saved his life. They kiss <3 but Jisung can’t feel anything so :(

So Jisung, Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, Haechan and Chenle go to Jae-yi’s (which is actually Haru’s) house and try to find evidence of him being linked to Vincenzo – Jisung still doesn’t wanna believe it, but they find evidence. Mark and Hae-soo contact Man Wol and explain to her the situation and ask if they can put Jisung’s father in there without killing him. She tells them there’s a way to do with just a drop of his blood + explains the spell to Hae-soo + tells Mark she forgives him. So they go face Jisung’s step-father: there’s a fight and yadiyadiyada but they manage to put him inside so yay!!!

The “owner” of the candle is now Jisung. He decides to use the fortune to continue Haru’s hot sauce business – he puts it in a box (the one from the life is still going on mv). Mark is a human now so he can go anywhere but decides to stay in Seoul and experience life as a normal college student. Jisung and Hae-soo kiss again <3

EP 9: Life Is Still Going On (BONUS EPISODE)

It’s 7 years into the future. Everyone meets again at a dinner thrown by Jisung.

Jisung is the CEO of DREAM FLAVOR and the company has grown even more + he’s engaged to Hae-soo who is doing her medical residency to become a surgeon + Haechan and Chenle are now starting a tech company together (about keeping you safe from hackers etc) + Jaemin is a surgical resident as well + Jeno is now a soccer player in the national team + Mark is getting his second Bachelor’s

They eat and chat + Jisung tells Haechan and Chenle he’s giving them the candle bcs they need the luck more since they’re starting a new business. So he blows it out + the episode ends with Haechan lighting it again.

-FIN-

Thanks for reading omg this was fun :DDD

#im not crazy i just like writing #if anyone reads it.........ily <3 #btw this has not been proofread + i wrote it bcs i was bored right after hot sauce #<3 #anonymous #sophie ask

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viostormcaller · 5 years ago

Text

Thinking about it, it kinda sucks just how little new horizons has.

Like... I love the game to pieces and maybe this is just bc im in a shitty mood (which i am) but like... god this is gonna be long and ranty and I'm sorry in advance that mobile tumblr doesnt have the read more feature

For starters, holidays are all scheduled on the company's terms, meaning in 7+ years or so there will be no more in-game holidays because by then they'll probably be thinking about/getting ready to release the next installment of the series on whatever console is out at the time and they won't want to update new horizons anymore. And adding onto this, you need the internet to download the updates. What happens to the players who don't have internet?? Can they just never experience the holidays like bunny day and toy day and turkey day? That takes a HUGE part of the fun of the series out right off the bat. Sometimes making everything rely on the internet is a bad idea. Idk if anyone can like tell me if having no internet means you can't take part in the holidays, but like... god if that's true thats really sad.

They recently took out the hybrid flower and big fish islands, which makes no sense whatsoever why they would do that to a game that has so little, but ok?? It's not like that feature was hindering the gameplay any

There's a lot of furniture but Not a Lot of Furniture, you get me? They took out EVERY set except the classic set (renamed "antique") that you can buy for an insanely high price, and the log and wooden block sets that you can craft, but other that that it's all unrelated items that aren't part of any set, aside from the cute set and diner and throwback sets which as far as I can remember are the only other sets you can buy in the game. No alpine, no ranch, no minimalist, no princess or gracie, no modern or sleek, none of that. And 90% of all the buy-only furniture in the game is just the color variants. You can't even customize them! And it's hard as fuck to find the color variants you want, much less for completing a furniture set

And speaking of which, your starting villagers don't get their default house interiors. Your first three + your two starters from the tutorial days have the same generic layouts. You NEVER see what their houses are supposed to look like, and even if you give them the wallpaper and flooring they're supposed to have (if you figure that out online somewhere), their house doesn't change (I tested this with Sherb and was kinda disappointed).

And stuff is so EXPENSIVE. I know it adds a challenge but my final loan was NEVER 1 mil+ bells in New Leaf. And you can't even expand the extra first floor rooms you get. I'm literally getting less for WAY more. The biggest rooms you get are the basement and upstairs rooms. The first floor rooms aside from the main room really don't have a lot of space and with the different furniture they DO offer, I don't have a lot of room to put things in. But it's not like I can even afford it anyway -- just a freaking air conditioner was 63,000 bells. In New Leaf it was 2500. That's a MASSIVE jump. And the kitchen items are so freaking expensive, as well.

And speaking of houses, for someone who was literally in the real estate industry in the last game, tom nook adds very few house exterior options. And the even more shitty thing is that a lot of the colors straight up don't match. They couldn't even add a plain white roof.

God and the fucking DIY recipes. I know I've said this before on my other tumblr but the RNG for this game is the worst I've ever fucking seen. There is no reason why, two months into the game, I can be given a recipe for a simple DIY bench, which EVERYONE LEARNS IN THE TUTORIAL. Who the fuck am I giving it to?! No one, because literally every player knows it already, and you can't gift diy recipes to villagers! And I keep getting repeats of recipes. My villagers give me fruit DIYs all the time, it's so rare for me to get any new ones. And two days in a row I've gotten the recipe for the deer head mount thing from the same villager. New recipes should 100% take the priority before repeats. This game is slow paced, sure, but that's just frustrating. It doesn't make me excited to learn more recipes, it makes me feel like I'm never gonna learn any new ones because I'll get the same fruit DIYs for a week straight.

And speaking of which, you can't put trees, bushes, or flowers in your storage, which to me makes literally no sense. I can fit a giant ass fountain in my storage but I can't put a flower plant? Really? And speaking of storage, for a game that added 300 whole slots for mail instead of the usual 10, I will never understand why they decided to halve the amount of items a player can order a day from the nook shopping, AND make it so that it takes a whole day to get there instead of making deliveries at 9 am and 5 pm like in New Leaf.

And the fact that they made it so hard to get non native fruit and flowers and shit??? Like they at LEAST added Lief so flowers aren't as much of an issue anymore, but you actually have to travel to other people's islands just to get all the fruits?? I know you have to do the same thing in New Leaf but the reason why this is an issue for me is because you have to pay for online access, meaning most of those nook miles for planting all the fruits are locked behind a paywall unless your villagers can gift them to you. And your mom, when you first start the game, has a chance of giving you the one fruit that's on the non-native fruit mystery island, meaning you'll only get ONE new fruit and not two separate ones (for example, my sis got pears from mom but her non native fruit islands have cherries i believe. I got pears from mom and my fruit islands also have pears. Doesnt help that that's the one fruit i hate lmao). They also took OUT a bunch of fruits, like mangoes, durians, lemons, bananas, lychees, persimmons...

And the fact that your nook miles rewards are ISLAND LOCKED. That is the WORST SHIT. Not everyone has the ability to play with others, bc no internet or no money for the subscription every month. Not everyone WANTS to play with others bc maybe they get social anxiety (like me, which is why i havent asked for things that are impossible for me to get even though i want them for my island or house), or maybe they simply just don't want to. But the fact that each island has their own color variants of the same goddamn rewards that CANNOT BE CHANGED makes me so upset. I do not want nor should I have to rely on others to get the items I want because my game doesn't have my preferred color variations. And it's not like I'm far enough in the game to have anything worth trading for said items, nor do I have the bells.

And Isabelle does next to fucking nothing and I'm really irked about how they made her character in this game. Yeah she's cute, but that's ALL she is. She became more ditzy than anything else. She doesn't let you know about visitors in the town or the plaza or if a bridge or incline was built bc of a completed donation goal. Like really useful info to know would be if Flick or CJ is in town or who is selling stuff in the plaza. Flavor text is nice but if that's all you say 24/7 it loses its charm. In New Leaf she was helpful and hardworking and super focused and on top of things. Idk why they changed that aspect of her. I know her role in New Horizons isn't as big as it was in New Leaf, but still.

And then there's glitches that STILL haven't been patched (as far as I know anyway), like the game-breaking villager corruption glitch (which you'd think nintendo would have made a priority but they're too busy removing other features it seems) or the house exterior glitch.

And it's bad enough that your game saves to your fucking system a la Fantasy Life. But even WORSE, no one can have separate islands on one console. It's not enough to own two copies of New Horizons. Each player has to own one copy of the game and a whole new Switch just so they can play on their own islands. Parents can't usually afford that (aka $360 for each kid give or take) so for a game marketed towards kids, I don't know why they thought that was a smart move (well, I DO know, and that's because money, but still). And to top it all off, cloud saves are not supported normally. If you lose your game or your switch and aren't subscribed to nintendo online, well, it looks like all your progress is gone! And there's nothing you can do about it. And they directly claimed that they did this just so people can't manipulate the game because it's supposed to be played in real time. But people can still fucking time travel by setting the system's clock! They achieved nothing except to make the players frustrated!!! If you make a game you need to accept that the player is going to play how THEY want to. You shouldn't try to make everyone conform to the way YOU want them to play. That just makes you a controlling asshole and the game loses a lot of its fun.

This game was 60 bucks and they took so long to make it and we ended up with less than we got in New Leaf. The main thing they gave us was a shit ton more clothing items (which I really like). Like I said, I love this game to pieces and it's actually one of my favorite games right now. There's so much I love about it -- I certainly don't hate it or anything. But this game has SO MANY flaws, a lot of which are needless. And I think the kid in me just misses the days where you can pay for a game and get the whole game right away. No updates in tiny batches, no content locked behind paywalls, no day one patches, no reliance on internet connection and multiplayer... mainstream companies have all gone really downhill with that shit and it just disappoints me to no end. But because Nintendo is kid-oriented, I think that's where it hurts the most. It was supposed to be accessible, family friendly fun like back during the days of the Wii and the DS. But companies get so wrapped up in competing with each other and trying to make the most money that they forget about all that. I dunno. It just sucks.

If you read all this, god damn I'm surprised XD I got super ranty and I apologize. But I'm in a sad mood and I after learning about features they've taken out I just had to get all this off my chest. It's been weighing on me since the game released, especially since for months prior this game was all I could think about and I was really looking forward to it. It just let me down in a lot of ways, I guess.

#long post #rant #animal crossing new horizons #acnh #vio stormcaller

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touchmycoat · 4 years ago

Note

HX/LQG!anon: oh, Ella!LQG just pings my kinky heart - he's SURE HX is just messing with him, but there's just a tiny bit of his brain that says, but what if he really needs it? And he just. Wants. He wants to give HX what he needs. And there's that other bit of him that just feels really really good doing what HX tells him to do, a weapon put in good hands. LQG is all-in/ ride or die if he trusts (loves) someone, even if he tries to pretend that's not happening. (Such sub energy!!)

p.s. First David and Second David???????!!!!!! *SCREAMS* I HAVE TOO MANY FEELS! Talk about emotional whump... *bites nails in anticipation*

YES YES YES YES AAAAAAHHHHH lqg honestly wants to be the weapon SO bad, just do as he's told because he knows he's in trusted hands. SUB!LQG IS YUMMIEST LQG. And He Xuan, well, he thrives off of control, that much is obvious. Not to be cliche but I want them to do every single con that involves He Xuan coming in and posing as LQG's debtor or employer or owner in some way, and at some point he just impatiently beckons LQG over, asks LQG why the job's all screwed up, and backhands LQG. LQG murmurs a "sorry sir" with no prompting at all, and HX nods, satisfied, before returning to the job.

BABE. BABE. I ALL OF A SUDDEN REMEMBERED NATE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CATHOLIC PRIEST. WAS THAT WERE HX WAS HEADED?? NOT CATHOLICISM BUT DEVOUT DAOIST SCHOLAR, MAYBE HISTORIAN??

(then HX's entire backstory got a revamp so warning, this got super fucking long)

Like, he and his sweetheart got engaged during undergrad, and for HX's last year he got this huge grant to travel to China to do his research on, I dunno, the original sutras that brought buddhism to the mainland and the daoist sociopolitical interests that propelled the translations. His fiancee makes a joke about how he's like Tang Sanzang from Journey to the West, but will he be okay all by himself, all the demons out there wanna eat his flesh y'know. HX laughs it off and goes—but it's during this time that SWD's entire shit strikes. It's probably a real estate thing to begin with—HX's dad's little Chinese diner refuses to sell to the rich corporate developers. They send people to smash things up, and the first time dad gets hospitalized HX tries to come home, but his mother convinces him to stay put, bc she's heard the real estate developers have some internal issues and are going down.

Sure enough, the company does, and the Hes thought it was over. HX reluctantly stays in China bc they really do have so much money riding on this, but a little while later, he hears about his baby sister falling sick. He and his mother argue for a period of time, but in the end it's HX's father's sudden death—complications due to his injuries from before—that makes his decision for him. So HX drops the research grant, comes home, realizes it wasn't just his sister sick, it was his mother as well, and takes academic leave to take care of his mother and sister.

But he realizes something's wrong. He's already pretty clever, and through mild grifting figures out there's something hinky with the whole "real estate company going down" thing. At the same time, this guy who just calls himself the Reverend shows up, and tells him look, you seem pretty desperate. Your family's sick, you're working yourself to the bones just trying to keep getting them treatment, you'll probably never return to school. But how about you come work for me?

HX puts on a damn good show. He pretends to refuse at first, forcing the Reverend to show him more and more of the business they got running. Then he "accepts" the Reverend's jobs, but tips off the people who were supposed to be the victims, and has them escape or resolve the situation in ways that wouldn't reveal it was HX behind it all. But it was all just a matter of time, of course, and he wasn't trying to trick the Reverend for the longterm, he was just trying to ferret out the people behind the Reverend. Why did they want HX's dad's shop badly enough to kill him, and why do they keep sending goons to smash up the storefront every time HX tries to clean it up?

Meanwhile, his fiancee, who's always helped out at the diner, is getting sick too. That's how HX put the pieces together, that it's...something like radiation poisoning (gotta figure out the deets),, and the real estate situation was an entanglement of coverups to hide what was probably improper waste disposal way back when.

Some good news though—there's a treatment being offered through a special program at the hospital for the thing HX's mom and sister are sick with, and its rep? A bubbly young corporate heiress out to perform some philanthropy, Shi Qingxuan. SQX befriends HX's fiancee first, and after learning about HX's situation, she prepares a whole grant application to the parent medical insurance company, says if it goes through HX wouldn't have to pay a dime. HX's naturally skeptical, but SQX is like "don't worry, I know people high up, wink wink"

But halfway through this the Reverend figures out HX is compiling evidence. Instead of confronting him straight, they want to tie HX down as an accomplice instead, so they send him on another "job" that's totally a set-up. HX's clever and figures it out, sends people packing, and in the end confronts the Reverend like, "the state police are coming, I have evidence and testimony to your crimes, you're going down."

But then the Reverend goes ahead and says, "good job then, you wanna keep patting yourself on the back or go see your mom and sister for the last time?" And plays for him a message from the hospital about his mother and sister's situations suddenly worsening. HX knows this is their doing, but what else can he do? He rushes to the hospital, and finds his fiancee weeping, SQX trying to comfort her. HX's mom and sister are already dead.

At this point, there are strains and fractures in HX's relationship with his fiancee, because of course there is—they're both still so fucking young. Miao-er had wanted to go on academic leave too, but HX refused, saying one of them needs to graduate college at least. The Hes are paying for her tuition anyways, and he kind of strong-arms her into continuing her education. Then he started taking the jobs for the Reverend, and Miao-er knows it's bad news because she sees the way HX's going kind of dark-sided. She always tries to bring him out of his funk, with varying levels of success, but she also kind of wishes he would just stay, and be there, and make this simple instead of diving into what kind of looks like a crazy conspiracy theory.

So here, that confrontation happens. The Reverend had given HX a gun for the set-up job from before, and HX turns right back around at the hospital room and goes to kill the Reverend. Miao-er tries to stop him, finds out he has a gun, is like jesus shit what the fuck dude, SQX's in the background trying to calm things down. HX ends up storming off anyways, and Miao-er is crying. SQX gets a little pissed off too and runs after HX to tell HX that Miao-er needs treatment too. She's really, really sorry that HX's mom and sister didn't make it in time, but the case went through for Miao-er, she can get the full course of treatment with all costs covered, and if HX storms off for revenge right now and gets caught, that means Miao-er gets left completely on her own, you know? The Hes are basically her adopted family, she doesn't have anyone else here in the States, and she just needs HX, please, calm down.

HX listens, manages to calm down, but when they go back, Miao-er's gone. Figuring she just needs time to deal with things herself, HX makes arrangements for his mom and sister's bodies. SQX continues to keep him company, and when she learns about the Reverend, she brings all her personal lawyers to help out. Together, they successfully resolve the entire Reverend ordeal. The Reverend goes down for everything, from the initial improper waste disposal to the real estate situation to getting HX's entire family killed. HX gets a payout, and wonders what to do next.

But then, Miao-er never came back. HX gets all tense and intense about searching again, but then SQX hesitantly informs him that according to the medical grant, Miao-er is currently receiving the full course of treatment. As for where, she's not at liberty to say, but, well, it kind of looks like she's just avoiding him? Maybe he should give her time?

Then HX gets smacked with an insane amount of student debt, both his and his fiancee's, which made no sense, unless Miao-er had cashed out the year's tuition that the Hes gave her and paid for school with a loan instead? And Miao-er continues to be gone, not answering any of HX's calls, and it just doesn't seem like something she would do but over time, HX doesn't know anymore. In the span of months, he's lost everybody, and the only person who still gave a damn enough to check up on him all the time, no matter how much of a bastard he is, is SQX.

Then SQX tells him her brother is hiring. "Look, we're an insurance company, we need case investigators. Normally they only hire out of prestigious schools but I can vouch for you, alright? I've seen what you can do. Take the job, pay off all these debts, smooth things out, and see where to go from there."

HX listens. He works under SWD and becomes the firm's top investigator. He pays off his debts, helps out his neighbors with zoning shit, and somewhere along the line starts dating SQX. SQX loves loves loves him, and keeps proposing to him ("but hahaha no pressure only if you really want, because I really want, like, spice girls really really want"), so finally, HX accepts.

Soon after their engagement though, HX suddenly gets a call. It's an unknown number, but he recognized the voice immediately. It's Miao-er.

She's crying, she sounds weak, she says she's sorry, so sorry, she let them lie to her for so long, that she never should have trusted them. She says he's been right all along, that there's been a cover-up, and now they're going to kill her for it—

The line goes dead. HX doesn't really remember how, but he loses consciousness. When he wakes up again it's to SQX telling him the doctors said he had a panic attack.

HX's brain puts the pieces together faster than he's really aware, and he has a fist in SQX's collar. He asks her where Miao-er is, what she knows, what happened to the treatment payments, did SQX lie to him about Miao-er taking—

But SWD's also there. They're staying at the Shi mansion, post-engagement. SWD pulls him away from SQX and has security take him down. SQX tries to protest, says HX's not feeling well. HX just keeps demanding to know where Miao-er is, and SWD just coolly opens HX's phone, shows him he hadn't received any calls, and basically calls off the engagement, gaslighting HX into thinking he's had a psychotic break triggered by the engagement to SQX.

Everything goes downhill from there. HX knows what he heard, and knows if something really did happen to Miao-er, then SQX must have had something to do with it. Their relationship completely falls apart, SWD fires him, and HX leaves a complete and utter mess. He drinks himself stupid, lives out of his car, sells his car, and ends up running in the dark side of town, where he mostly just wants to be left alone, but ends up making a name for himself anyways as someone immensely powerful and dangerous.

Then he meets Xie Lian. Everything kicks off again from there.

#leverage AU #it's so much more melodramatic than nate's son OKAY BUT IS IT #the midnight phone call that may or may not have happened is the most melodramatic part #but y'know it vibes with the whole 'real earth master sending up a flare' thing #and a hasty cover up #HX remembers SWD telling him 'nobody hurts my sister'#and even applauds him for it #before he figures out it's SWD screwing him over this entire time #SQX knows nothing ofc #but HX is convinced it's her #until finally she gets exasperated enough with the accusations that she stops trying #and HX is honestly exhausted too #realizes there's no way SQX plotted this #and falls into a slump #that's where we find HX pre-series

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of-a-chaotic-mind · 5 years ago

Text

Home Part 2

Summary: Asher lands in the hospital but he’ll have plenty of support.

TW/CW: Steroids, a few swear words, angst/sadness, Jordan Baker x Adams!Reader

Word Count: 1,387

A/N: So I actually had to do some research to figure this out and obviously this is still an AU thing bc I haven’t made it past episode 10 yet to find out what actually happens. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy! Requests and Asks open.

Your POV

I roll over and stretch my back before getting up from my recliner. Making my way to the kitchen, I’m careful to not wake Liv and Leila who are both asleep on opposite ends of the couch. They both stayed over last night after our girl’s night in. It’s good to finally be back with my best friends but it still feels like something is missing. Rather, I should say someone is missing. A couple someones to be fair.

I’ve now been back a week. However, that also means that it’s been almost a week since I saw Asher. The guys say he’s still shown up for practice but he won’t talk to any of them unless necessary for football. Jordan and I have started hanging out more. We’ve talked a lot about us and what happened but we still haven’t quite worked through everything.

I check my phone and find several texts and missed calls from Jordan. I read through the texts quickly before calling him. He picks up almost instantly, “(Y/n), you need to come down to the hospital asap!”

Already racing to my room to change, I ask, “What? Why? What happened?”

“It’s Asher. He started breathing really heavy during practice so dad benched him but moments later Asher he was having trouble breathing and said his heart was hurting. We’re here with him now but we can’t get back to see him yet, we’re not family and he’d kill me if I called your Mom or Dad,” he answers and I can hear the concern and worry heavy in his voice.

“I’ll be right there,” I say before hanging up and changing into some jeans and a sweatshirt. I race back down stairs and grab my keys. Liv and Leila are awake now and confused by my rush.

I write a note for Mom and leave it on the counter but Liv stops me before I make it out the door, “(Y/n/n), what’s going on?”

“Asher is at the hospital,” I say and step around her, “Just lock up before you guys leave please.”

I finally make it to the car and make my way to the hospital. After a long nerve wrecking drive, I finally make it and find Jordan and Coach Baker waiting for me in the lounge. They both join me at the reception desk as I hurriedly ask her where I can find my brother. Convinced I am his sister like I say I am, she tells me where he is but informs me that he’s asleep. I make my way to the room, and find he is in fact asleep but I take a seat beside his bed to catch my breath.

“Asher what did you do?” I mumble as I drop my head into my hands.

“I just wanted to be good enough,” I hear him whisper and I look up at him quickly.

I reach out and take his hand in mine, “Asher what makes you think you aren’t good enough?”

He turns his head to look at me, “Mom left, you left, dad hardly ever speaks to me, and no matter how hard I try I can’t ever get to where I want to be in football. I’m a disappointment and a failure.”

The tears in his eyes grips my heart and tears of my own begin to fall, “Asher, you are the best little brother anyone could ever have. I know I shouldn’t have left. It was selfish of me, just like it was selfish of Mom and Dad to treat you like they did. Football, though, you were and still are one of the best receivers that Beverly has ever seen. Sure, Spencer might have taken some of the spotlight but communication goes a lot further than sabotage and cheating. I know you both need the scholarship offers but they don’t have to come to just one of you. There’s plenty of schools out there and two of you. I know it’s hard feeling like you always live in the shadows but getting into the light takes work. Shortcuts only come back around to bite you in the ass.”

He squeezes my hand, “You’re right. I’m sorry I fucked up so royally. I need help...” He trails off as a doctor walks in the room.

“Miss Adams will your parents be joining us?” he asks.

I glance at Asher and find the answer on his face before shaking my head at the doctor, “No Sir, they’re both pretty busy right now.”

He nods before explaining to me the results of the various tests and a summary of any damage. Thankfully it isn’t too bad and he will still be able to play football. He finishes his findings and asks me to step out into the hallway with him. I look to Asher and silently ask if it’s okay for me to leave, but he immediately nods, “I’m okay, I need to sleep anyway.” So, I let his hand go and step out into the hall.

The doctor looks at me seriously and seems to examine me before speaking, “Miss Adams, I understand that not all parents do the best job but it may be beneficial to call them. Did you know your brother has been using Steroids?” I say nothing and only nod. He continues cautiously, “He will need to be committed to a recovery program before he can have a chance to play football again.”

I nod, “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll be sure to discuss it with him and decide on a program.” He nods in understanding before walking away. I poke my head back in the room but find Asher asleep so I decide to rejoin the others in the waiting room. As I round the corner, it sounds like there are more people than before so I change paths and head for the cafeteria instead. I have too many thoughts bouncing around my head right now to be surrounded by noise. I grab a drink out of the coolers and a candy bar before approaching the register. The attendant rings up the items and patiently waits as I dig around in my purse for my wallet.

Before, I can find it, however, someone else hands over some money. I look up to find it’s Jordan and then grab my things and find a seat in a booth. Jordan slides in across from but doesn’t say anything. I quietly eat my candy bar and stare out the window. He reaches out and takes my hand in his but still says nothing.

Deciding it’s time to get some of the information off my chest, I speak up, “Thank you for paying for my stuff. I think I left my wallet at home.”

Out of the corner of my eye I notice him shake his head, “Don’t worry about it.”

I take a deep breath, “The Doctor said the effects and damage are minor. There’re small amounts of damage to his kidneys and his blood pressure is up but after a recovery program and some ass kissing, he should be good to play football again. They said his heart looks okay but to keep an eye on it. He’ll have to be careful.”

“That’s good. Dad says he’ll be benched for a handful of games when he returns but he’ll get his position back after that,” he says, trying to bring some good news.

“Who all came?” I ask, changing the subject.

Jordan laughs, “Everyone. Liv and Leila showed up not long after you went back and the guys came in not long before you got back. We’re all worried about him and Spencer insists that we show him the same support that we gave him when he was in here, like our friends and family wouldn’t.”

Finishing my candy bar, I smile and get up from my seat, “I suppose I should probably give them an update.”

He joins me as I throw my trash away before heading back for the waiting room. Halfway there he stops me and wraps his arms around me. I hug him back as he kisses the top of my head, “You know we’re here for you, too right? I know it’s not really worth much right now but I'm right here if you need me.”

"It’s worth more than you think,” I mumble into his shirt before we pull apart and continue towards the waiting room.

Masterlists

#jordan baker #jordan baker imagines #jordan baker imagine #jordan baker all american #jordan baker all american imagines #jordan baker all american imagine #jordan baker x reader #all american #all american imagine #all american imagines #imagine #imagines

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ezrxxx · 4 years ago

Text

⌠ NICK ROBINSON, 23, MALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, EZRA COWELL ! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in THREAT ELIMINATION + COVERT OPERATIONS; and they DID go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (purple bruised knuckles, charming chocolate eyes, a bloody busted lip). when it’s the (capricorn)’s birthday on 12/24/1997, they always request their BRISKET SANDWICHES from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

pinterest board

A B O U T

➟ He was born somewhere near the outsides of LA. He never met his father, but he knew very early on he didn’t need him.

➟ His younger sister was born when he was about three years old– no trace of a father either. His mother had her own secret life she never told her kids about, but she delivered and brought food to the table for the two of them despite the conditions they lived in, so it was okay.

➟ As soon as Ezra was old enough to work, though, he started hustling around town. He’s been a waiter, a messenger, a driver, but he found his passion at a local gym: boxing. He couldn’t exactly pay for the training, but the owner saw his passion and offered him a job that would pay for it, plus a few extra bucks to bring home.

➟ He’s always been a smart thinker. He sees opportunities in every single corner, wherever he sets his eyes on, so it didn’t take long before he was organizing bets and fight clubs to get even more money, since they were all older and her mother was not able to do what she had been doing as they grew older (she was probably a stripper, i don’t know and he doesn’t either).

➟ It always seemed like these things came a little too easy for him, and he never stopped to wonder why, but he became unbeatable, the talk of the neighborhood and the favorite bet.

➟ (death tw, fire tw) It was the summer before he turned 16 that his life changed, when one night, as he was off fighting in a different town, a big fire engulfed his home with both his mother and baby sister in the building. It was a total loss. Ezra was left with absolutely nothing.

➟ He found refugee at the gym, where he lived for the next few months, hiding from the system to avoid going to foster care. He could maintain himself. He didn’t need help. He had the fight club, and his job at the gym.

➟ It was then when a mysterious letter came through the mail with Ezra’s name in the front: a long lost father revealing himself. He was rich, had been keeping an eye on him, but it had become harder to find after the fire. In the letter he explained he was the only heir to his fortune, and other things that were not clear in that moment. Ezra didn’t believe it at first, but kept the address in his book for a few weeks, until curiosity got the best of him.

➟ It was not a house but a mansion, and instead of being received by the man who signed the letter it was instead some sort of butler, who showed him around, as well as proof that he was the rich man’s son. He showed him his will, the letters, the checks, the bank accounts, and lastly the one condition in which he could actually inherit all of the money: to assist a spy prep school and join the family business.

➟ It took a few more months of thought, but after a really rough street fight that landed him in the hospital, he had no other choice but to accept his still stranger father’s deal, take the money and the choice for a new life as a spy. The rest is history.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

➟ He’s new, so I have yet to figure him out, and you’ll help me out with that. He’s smart and cunning, an opportunist at best: if he sees something could work in his favor, he will take it.

➟ He’s easily detached, and not really loyal. Everything for him is pretty much disposable– in some cases, even his own life.

➟ He’s charming and easy going, but he rarely ever shows his real intentions. He’s not a bad guy, but he doesn’t open up easily/would rather make a whole new story up before coming clean about anything.

➟ Flirty, charming, a talker. Prone to violence and anger attacks, though.

C O N N E C T I O N S

People from prep school back in LA

People from fight club in LA, or who used to train with him at the gym

Best friends, bros before hoes

A friend who’s only a friend when drunk

Enemies bc he’s probs got a few

Ex hook ups, men and women, but always kept discreetly

Flirtationships

Roommates // Former roommates // Former classmates

People he tutors in fighting bc he’s good

People in the fight club

Anything ur heart desires. Hit me up on the DMs or Discord for blootzzz.

#gallagher:intro #intro #about #one of these days he'll get an edit perhaps

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boldly-ho · 5 years ago

Text

Another Life - Chapter 7

Fandom: What We Do in the Shadows

Pairing: Vladislav x Reader

Series Rating: M

Word Count: 2877

Chapter Summary: Viago decides you should all get along, so you go for a night out on the town with the guys to humor him.

A/N: Drunken author. Let me know if there are any glaring issues. American author. Never been to NZ. Let me know if there are any glaring issues. As always, cross posted to ao3. Posting early bc I’m still drunk and idgaf.

“Hey,” you greeted the three men who were already seated around the kitchen table. “Is Petyr coming?”

Viago hesitated. “This doesn’t really pertain to Petyr.”

You’d figured as much. When Viago asked to come down for a flat meeting, your second since moving in, you’d guessed it was about Deacon and his reluctance to do his chores. You were surprised, then, when your flatmates all turned to you and Viago spoke.

“So, Y/N, we don’t want you to feel as though we’re ganging up on you…”

Wait, what?

“Okay…”

Viago continued. “It’s just that you- and not all the time, of course, just sometimes-“

“Stop slamming the front door,” Vladislav interrupted.

Given that Viago, in his attempts to calm you, had very much worried you, you were grateful for Vladislav’s blunt approach.

“Your bedroom door, too,” Deacon added.

Viago offered you a sheepish smile, his fangs just poking out of his mouth. “Ja.”

You felt a bit embarrassed by your transgression. “Have I been waking you guys up?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry. I’ll try to be more conscious of how much force I’m using.”

Viago offered you a real smile this time. “Great! I’m glad we were able to come to an understanding.” With that, he drew a neat line through the impeccably written ‘flat meeting’ on his to do list and flipped his notebook shut.

“Right,” you said. “Uh, did this have to be a whole flat meeting though?”

Viago stared at you blankly.

“I mean, couldn’t one of you guys just have pulled me aside and asked me to close the door more quietly? Instead of having a whole production?” Despite Viago’s initial spiel, you did feel a bit ganged up on.

“I tried that!” Deacon interjected, clearly offended.

“You did?” You didn’t remember that.

“Last week. I told you that you had woken me up and to be more careful shutting the door!”

Oh, crap.

He had. To be fair, though, you had thought he was just being a jerk because he didn’t like you, and so you’d dismissed his concerns out of hand. You felt your face heat in embarrassment.

“Oh, right. Well, I, uh, didn’t realize you were serious,” you mumbled.

“What?” Vladislav asked. You could tell from his tone that he was asking because he hadn’t heard you, not because he was shocked or appalled at your words.

Still, it wasn’t helping how suddenly sheepish you felt. Attempting to speak more clearly you said, “I didn’t think it was actually an issue. I just thought you were just being particular because you don’t like me.”

Now it was Deacon’s turn to look sheepish.

“It’s fine!” You hastily tried to reassure them all. “It’s no big deal, really. I’ll be quieter during the day. And, Deacon, it’s fine. You’re always civil.” Almost always, anyway. “And it’s not like we all need to be best friends, right? Really, it’s fine.”

Looking around the table, you were met with blank stares.

Okay, then. You excused yourself and made your way upstairs to your bedroom, taking care to close the door softly behind you. You wished you could forget the last few minutes.

Only moments later, you heard a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” It was Viago.

You sighed internally before opening the door.

“Sorry about that downstairs. I hope it didn’t feel like an ambush.”

“No, of course not,” you lied.

“Good,” he responded before getting to his main point. “Why don’t you come out with us tonight?”

“Like out clubbing?”

He nodded. “Ja. With you and Deacon not really getting on, I figured we could all get to know each other better over a night out.”

Ah. So Viago was the kind of person who needed to be best friends with his flatmates. You didn’t really feel like going out tonight. You’d been up all day, whereas your flatmates have been awake for just a couple of hours. You also weren’t super excited to spend a whole evening with these guys. On the other hand, it had been a while since you went out, and it would be nice to get out of the house for something other than work or grocery shopping. Still, though, didn’t these guys actually, literally kill people when they went out? Maybe? But if you went out with them, it’s not as though they’d bring home a victim. Not someone that you had seen and interacted with. So by that logic, shouldn’t you go out?

Viago was looking at you expectantly.

“Um, okay, sure, why not?”

He grinned excitedly.

“When do we leave?” you asked.

“As soon as you’re ready.”

“Give me 15?”

Viago nodded and left, and you got ready in a heavily expedited version of your routine. You applied a coat of mascara and a layer of powder before brushing through your hair. Quite a bit more casual and simple than your usual going out look, but you hoped your go-to dress would make up for it. It was a classic black LBD, the perfect combination of slutty and classy, fitting your form in the most flattering way. Checking yourself in the mirror revealed someone who looked pretty well put together, all things considered. You pulled on the matching shoes and felt again to be sure the cross necklace was still in place before speeding downstairs.

The guys fell silent at your arrival. It was clear from Deacon’s glare and from the residual energy in the room that they had been talking about you. Viago probably hadn’t gotten the others’ permission to invite you along. Having already made up your mind to go, you traipsed out the front door and began towards the bus stop, trusting them to follow you.

The bus ride into town was silent and awkward. Your flatmates all boarded ahead of you, and the bus was crowded. Your choice of seat was narrowed down to either squeezing yourself between Viago and the wall, or sitting in a row of three with Deacon and Vladislav. Given your relationship with Deacon, one erotic dance invitation notwithstanding, and what had happened the last time you had any real interaction with Vladislav, you chose to make yourself fit in the narrow space beside Viago. As the bus began to move, you realized that choosing the clearly uncomfortable space sent an explicit message to the other two that you did not want to sit with them.

Upon exiting the bus, the four of you formed a small huddle to discuss the evening’s game plan.

“Let’s go to Boogie Wonderland,” you offered. They shot you down. “Red Square?” They again refused. “Where do you guys usually go, then?”

“We could start out at the Big Kumara,” Deacon suggested. “I’m supposed to meet Jackie, anyway.”

The other two agreed easily, so you nodded as well. You didn’t know who Jackie was, and you’d never been to the Big Kumara, but as you approached it, you realized you’d seen it before, though never given it much attention. It was more of a townie bar than a club. That might be best, though, given that you didn’t do much for hair or makeup.

You guessed that the guys must be regulars given the odd and friendly greeting by the bouncer, and how a casual “She’s with us,” from Vladislav was enough to get you the same greeting.

The bar was quiet compared to the street outside. Other than the four of you, the only people there were the two seated at a booth and the bartender. It was simultaneously too dim to see well and too bright compared to the nightclubs you were expecting. It smelled more like the wood paneling on the walls than the greasy pub food you expected they served. Oh well, this night wasn’t really about were you went. It was about spending time with your flatmates. Or at the very least, placating Viago.

“I’ll get the first round. What do you guys want?”

“No thank you.”

“I’m not really in the mood right now.”

“I’m alright.”

You laughed.

They moved to take a larger booth.

“Oh, seriously?” you asked. Who turned down free booze?

“Ja,” Viago answered. “You go ahead, though, and meet us over there,” he said, pointing.

Whatever. It saved you some money. Still, why go to a bar and not get anything to drink?

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked.

You ordered your drink, plus a plate of chips for the table. When he returned with your drink, you gave him your card and asked for a glass of water as well. With the other guys not drinking, you figured you should do your best not to get wildly drunk.

Your beverages and fries in hand, you returned to the booth to find not just your flatmates, but an unfamiliar woman, as well.

“Hi,” you greeted her. “I’m Y/N. Help yourself to some chips.”

“Hi. Jackie,” she introduced herself. “I’m an old friend of Deacon’s.” She reached across the table to shake your hand before taking a few chips.

“Nice to meet you. Can I get you a drink?” You took a sip of yours.

“No,” Deacon answered for her. “Jackie isn’t staying. We just have some things to discuss.”

His tone brokered no discussion on your part. You wondered exactly how they knew each other. The two excused themselves from the table, leaving you, Viago, and Vladislav alone.

“‘Do you guys come here a lot?”

“We know the owner,” Vladislav answered, “so we can get in even on busy nights.”

You wondered if he meant nights that the Big Kumara was busy, or nights when Te Aro in general was busy. Because it was busy out on the street, and you imagined in other bars, right now.

“That’s cool.”

You downed your drink quickly in the awkward silence that followed, and didn’t bother to excuse yourself before going up to the bar for a second.

“Same?” the bartender asked.

You nodded. “Do you know those guys?” You gestured back to your booth.

“They’re in here a lot, yeah.”

“Are they a bit… odd?”

“No odder than anyone else who frequents here.” The bartender gave you a knowing smile that you did not return.

You sighed, taking your drink and returning to the booth, where Vladislav sat alone. You really weren’t in the mood to be alone with Vladislav yet, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

“Where’s Viago?” You took a big swig of your drink.

He pointed to the back exit, where Viago stood with Deacon and Jackie. “He’s trying to convince Deacon to get on board with Red Square.”

“Red Square?” You perked up, figuratively and literally, sitting a bit straighter in the booth. You suddenly felt lighter. If you had t sped an evening with the guys, it would be better to spend it in a place less conducive to conversation and one more conducive to partying.

He laughed gently. It was warm and fuzzy.

God, you were a lightweight.

“I like your laugh.”

His smile pulled gently at the corner of his mustache, and you found yourself staring at the gap between his front teeth. “I think you’re a bit of a lightweight.”

“Am not,” you lied.

He didn’t fight you on it. “The Big Kumara isn’t really your vibe, clearly, so we’re going to go to a club.”

You downed the rest of your drink quickly, and chased it with your water. Vladislav exited the booth and stood beside you, offering you a hand up.

“Can you walk?”

“I’m barely buzzed!” you protested before taking his hand. Looking up to his face, you realized he was joking. Teasing you. “Oh, ha ha, very funny.”

When you reached the exit, Jackie had left and Viago and Deacon were waiting for you. “Red Square?” Viago asked.

You nodded too eagerly. Perhaps you were a little bit tipsy.

Red Square was a few blocks away, but you were in fact a lightweight, and your buzz was turning you into quite the chatterbox.

“Jackie seems nice.”

Deacon nodded. “She’s okay.”

“I like her hair.”

You caught Vladislav’s smirk from behind his hair. “You think I’m funny,” you accused him.

“Sometimes.”

“Red Square!” You picked up speed as you saw the club.

“Five dollar cover,” the bouncer said.

“I got it.” You offered partly out of an effort to be friendly, and partly out of laziness, as the only cash you had on you was a twenty dollar bill.

You forged ahead into the loud, dark atmosphere as your flatmates all paused at the door. “What are you guys waiting for? Come in!”

As if suddenly convinced, the three entered the club.

“This place is amazing!” Viago yelled over the music.

“You’ve never been here?”

He shook his head.

“You’ll love it!”

Viago, Deacon, and Vladislav spoke among themselves before heading towards the dance floor. You made your way to the bar, grabbing a barstool that was luckily open, and ordering a drink. You scanned the room for your friends. It was hard to see through the crowd, though, and you couldn’t quite find them.

“Hey, gorgeous.” You turned to see someone new in the seat beside you. He was very attractive. Dark curls and stunning brown eyes, with a blindingly white smile. “Can I buy you a drink?”

As if on cue, the bartender returned with your order. “Sorry,” you told him.

He didn’t seem very bothered. “What brings a girl like you here all by herself?”

This guys was 0 for 10 on originality, but you smiled in spite of yourself. Whether due to him or the nice buzz you had going on, you weren’t sure.

“I’m actually here with my flatmates.” You gestured vaguely at the dance floor. “Y/N.” You introduced yourself.

“James.” You politely shook his hand, but felt a bit silly doing so. “I’m going to order a pretzel. Want in?”

“Heck yeah.”

After a fair bit of small talk, one pretzel, and the rest of your drink, James leaned close and whispered in your ear. It was nice, intimate. But maybe too intimate? “How about I buy you that drink now?”

“No thanks. I should probably get back to my friends.” You liked James. He was friendly and attractive, and very clearly into you. But he was getting hot and heavy a little too fast, and that really wasn’t what you were here for. In fact, you were beginning to feel a bit guilty for spending the evening away from the guys, since that was the whole point of Viago inviting you along.

“Come on,” he whispered, hand moving up your thigh.

You grabbed his hand and thrust it away. “I should find my friends.”

His hand moved to your upper arm, gripping just too tightly. “Don’t be such a bitch.”

“Hey!” You looked from James over to the bartender, who was too busy at the other end of the bar to notice what was going on.

“Is this guy bothering you?” You felt a wave of relief wash over you at Deacon’s familiar voice above you and his cool hand on your shoulder.

“Who the hell are-“ James paled as he looked up at Deacon, before almost falling off of his stool in his attempt to get away.

You looked over your shoulder, but Deacon seemed normal to you. “What did you-“

“Are you okay?” Deacon asked as he took James’ seat.

“Yeah. Thank you.” You ordered another drink from the passing bartender.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” You rubbed your arm absentmindedly. “I’m glad you were here, though. Where are the other guys?” you asked.

“I’m not sure.”

You scoured the club and briefly spotted Vladislav in a small booth with two women. Two, really? You couldn’t find Viago on the dance floor or in a booth.

“Viago told me what happened with you and Vladislav the other day.”

What?

“What?”

He repeated himself. “Viago told me what happened-“

“Nothing happened!” You were quick to defend yourself.

“I know, I know. I just wanted to explain why Viago said what he said.”

You didn’t love that they had been talking about you.

“It wasn’t about you at all. Once we found out our new flatmate was a woman, before me or Vlad even saw you, we made a blanket statement that no one would hit on you. Just as general precaution to avoid trouble.”

Hit on you or murder you, you guessed.

“There was a bit of a special emphasis placed on Vlad, but that still wasn’t about you. It’s just because he’s a bit of a, uh, ladies’ man, I guess. And knowing Vlad’s history, like Viago and I do, Viago just leapt to the wrong conclusion. It was about Vladislav, not you.”

You nodded, looking back to where Vladislav sat with two women. A ladies’ man. You could see that, you supposed. He wasn’t conventionally attractive, really, but he wasn’t unappealing. And there was something about him. A magnetism of some sort. You could see why women were drawn to him.

You thought about his laugh.

“I just figured Viago and Vladislav wouldn’t say anything about it to you.”

You downed almost your entire drink in one go. “Thanks.”

Deacon nodded.

“You know doing erotic dances for your friends is weird, right?”

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #vladislav #vladislav x reader #jemaine clement #another life #al fic #drunk tag

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