#they simply learn it's happened and have to forcibly suck it and move on

[mc-critical]

Curious that in the wake of Süleiman's first campaign, both Hürrem and Hatice are scared of forever losing the people they've come to love and have latched onto in order to keep going and find new meaning for themselves after their seemingly dealbreaking past and recent losses, all the while Hafsa reveals her intention to marry both of them off all in the same episode, thus reinforcing the alienation they would feel in Süleiman and Ibrahim's absences and threatening to fully cement it, cutting them off from their actual loves and bringing misery to them both.

[macabr3-barbi3]

New Love, New Skin (Chapter 3)

Vox and Kora's established routine has a deviation, and we learn a little more about both of them.

HURRAY FOR BACKSTORY

Tags: nightmares, grocery stores in Hell, dancing, loss of virginity

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5

February 1959

In the months following that first night together, a lot of things changed for Vincent. Slowly, but adapting nonetheless. 

They abandoned their plans of moving to a nicer apartment in favor of Vincent simply moving into Kora’s bedroom- the mattress slid to the center of the room and the dresser split down the middle to make room for Vincent’s growing collection of clothing. There’s a small table on either side of the room, one for Kora’s miscellaneous craft items and one for his paperwork and notes, music and books from above that he was asked to review for the station, scripts he was told to look over for non-breaking news. 

Once he had started sleeping in her bedroom, his mornings were better even though their routine didn’t change. Kora was an early bird, awake and out the door for a walk after starting the coffee brewing on her way- but some days he could convince her to stay in bed with him for an orgasm or two (or three, on one memorable morning with his face shoved beneath the covers to lick and suck at her slick cunt before she had forcibly pulled on his antennae to get him to stop so she could return the favor). She rarely forgot to start the coffee but when she did Vincent would wake up in a foul mood, only sated when Kora returned home and crawled back into bed with him for a few minutes, caffeine fiend in him satisfied when he could taste the brew on her lips as she gave her apology with kisses.

After the Extermination that year, Kora had started having nightmares. He could understand to an extent when he would wake in the night to her mumbling and tossing about in her sleep, brow creased and unshed tears lining her eyes- she had filled him in on the annual event, the Exorcist Angels from Heaven coming down and slaughtering countless demons as a means of ‘population control,’ which was just fucked up in his opinion. They had spent the day holed up in the apartment, lights out, screams of terror filtering in from the crack in the living room window and causing Kora to flinch every time. He had eventually repositioned them, leaned her back against his chest with his hands over her soft ears to muffle the noise as best he could.

Usually when he noticed her having a bad dream he would leave the room for a while- sit in the darkness of the living area for an hour or so until he returned and saw that she had calmed, slipping back under the sheets with her.

This particular night though, when he awoke to the motions of her wrestling with the covers, the tears were flowing freely, mumbling softly under her breath- “didn’t mean it- please don’t go… no no no no-” 

Vincent shoves the covers aside to get out of the bed when her hands wrap around his forearm, grip punishing and firm, sobbing in earnest even as she remains in the throes of sleep. “Gideon- ‘m sorry, no…” She mumbles, claws sinking into the sensitive flesh of his arm. “Sorry, sorry, please-”

His heart sinks. Who the fuck was Gideon? What could she have to apologize for? His eyes dart over to the picture on Kora’s nightstand, the bat-like demon with a wing tossed carelessly over her shoulder. He didn’t think that he was another lover- Kora wasn’t the sort to fuck around on a guy, even if they hadn’t officially labeled themselves since they had started sleeping together. But obviously whatever had happened with him was making her feel guilty- perhaps he would ask her about it, someday.

For now, though, Vincent can’t stand to see her so distressed in her dreams. He pries her claws from his skin and moves, pulls her into his arms with her head tucked up under his screen and soothes his hand over her mussed hair. “Shh,” he murmurs, and she whimpers in his embrace. “It’s okay, Kora. I got you.” 

She cries softly into his chest, her whispered words dragging her lips against his skin, and he gets a sudden, crystal clear memory of his life on Earth- a child, dark hair falling over his eyes when he sits up in bed and his ma comes into the room, all sugary sweet smiles and soft words that she spoke into his hair as he fell back to sleep, her presence keeping the worst of his nightmares at bay. His mother had always been the one to soothe him, his hardass father telling him to be a man and get over it regardless of the situation; his grandfather dying, having to leave his friends behind every time they moved, when he tumbled into the river as a teenager and bashed his face off a boulder. He had told him the scar across his left eye made him look tough, less like a sissy. 

That wasn’t what Kora needed, he realized- to be left alone with her fears and deal with them without any support. It hadn’t worked for him as a child; how could it work for her? What kind of man lets a woman- or a child, for that matter- cry from their nightmares when consolation can be as simple as a gentle embrace and a few soft words?

She eventually calmed in his hold, breath evening out, lips ceasing their silent prayer and apologies to this mysterious Gideon- even though Vincent still glared at what was possibly his image on Kora’s side of the bed. 

He eventually fell back to slumber as well, his arms still around her when he opened his eyes to the golden halo of her hair in the morning. She’s sniffling against his chest, hands rubbing at her eyes to displace the dried tears she had cried in the night, and when she looks up at him she offers a soft smile. “You must think I’m some kinda baby, huh?”

“Never, doll,” he says, ruffling her hair a bit and laughing when she pushes against him to escape his embrace. “I might think you’re some kind of snore demon, but never a baby.” She didn’t snore, but he poked at her constantly with the implication that she did because the way that she bristled at it was so funny.

“I do not snore,” she insisted, her brow creased as she glared at him, shoving at his chest to land him flat on his back in the bed instead of curled protectively around her. She sat low on his abdomen to reach his wrists, holding them to the bed like she had any chance of keeping him in place if he attempted to unseat her. 

Normally in such a position he would have casually slid her further down his body to sit fully on his lap, tearing their clothes off to grind together until they both came, gasping into the other’s mouth. They had yet to actually fuck, Kora surprisingly shy about the prospect and Vincent not wanting to pressure her into anything. He had no issues with what they had been doing thus far with their hands and mouths but a man can’t help but want more when there’s a gorgeous woman pressed against his cock and moaning his name.

What was most pressing to him now though was finding out who the other man was whose name she had cried in her sleep. “You do snore,” he tells her, and sits up so she's resting in his lap, arms thrown over his shoulders with the change in position, and the grin she gives him is one that would be easy to kiss off her face if he were so inclined. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, you can join me in the shower.” She tucks her head under his screen in an effort to redirect the conversation, pressing little kisses to his neck that he’s absolutely not getting distracted by.

Well, maybe a little. But he felt like this was probably an important conversation to have, so he holds her shoulders and pulls her back from him a bit. “Kora,” he says softly, and she looks away from him, likely knowing this was about her nightmares. “Who is Gideon?” 

The way that she stiffens against him is immediate, her face dropping in shock as she tears her eyes back to him. “How do you-”

“You said his name,” he offers, “in your sleep.” Her shoulders drop, face tilting down so she’s not looking at him anymore. “I’m not mad, Kora, if that’s what you think-”

“You’d have no reason to be mad,” she says, sounding almost defeated. “And even if you were I wouldn’t care.”

“Right.” That fucking stung a little, but he could understand- she was feeling vulnerable, defensive. He would react the same way if he felt he was backed into a corner. “And that’s fine! I’m just- I’m not judging or anything, baby, I just want to understand what’s going on. I’ve never seen you act like that sleeping before.” 

Kora looks up at him from under her lashes, expression uncomfortable before she sighs, lays her head on his shoulder. She mumbles something into his neck, and when he tilts his head to hear her better she repeats herself; “Gideon was my husband.”

“Your what?” Vincent looks down at her, tucked comfortably against his chest, and feels her snort of laughter more than he hears it.

“Husband. You know, holy matrimony? ‘Til death do we part?’ It didn’t really mean anything,” she adds, bringing a hand up to trail along his arm like she was distracting herself. “We were childhood friends, me and Gideon. People always joked about us getting married growing up because of how close we were, and then he realized he was gay before he went to college and-” She cut herself off, clearing her throat lightly, nodding to the photo on the stand and confirming his suspicions that the image was of the two of them. “Anyway, he figured having a wife was a good way to clear any potential rumors about himself while he was away- you know, all ‘no, sir, I couldn’t possibly be a homosexual, look at this photo of the lovely missus back home-’ and it wasn’t like I had anyone else begging to marry me. It was a great cover for him, really.”

Vincent stares down at her, aghast. “What about you ?” The selfish fucker, using Kora for his own agenda. He looks over at the photo on the desk, memorizing the lines of the bat’s face in case he ever sees him out and about in Hell; no way the slimy shit had ended up in Heaven-

“What about me?” She looks up at him, eyes still wide and earnest. “I had nothing to lose from the arrangement.” Her face is calm as she talks about him. “I mean, maybe missing out on a real husband- love, a real family, you know, but I wanted Gideon to be safe more than I wanted those things for myself.”

He reaches up, holds her face in both hands when he pulls her back and presses a kiss to her lips. “You are… too good,” he says when she smiles against him. “Too good for Hell, too good for him; if he’s down here and I ever see him, I’ll- fuck, Kora, what’s wrong?” Her eyes had filled with tears again, trying to turn away from him but unable with his hands on either side of her head. “What did I say?”

“Nothing, it’s fine, you didn’t know-” She gestures to the photo on her nightstand, bringing a hand up to wipe at the new tears. “He, um. Got caught during one of the Exterminations after we found each other down here. Gideon is gone.”

His heart aches for her, pulling her against his chest again and smoothing his hand over her hand, lightly scratching behind her ears. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” he tells her, even though personally he thinks the shithead got what was coming to him. What kind of person completely disregards their friend’s happiness like that? “I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“You couldn’t have known. And besides,” she says, pressing a kiss to the side of his screen, “it’s cute to see you all concerned and shit. Now come on, it’s Sunday- we’ve got stuff to do, groceries to get, plants to water.” Sunday was the one night a week they had off together now that their work schedules had finally evened out and become more regular

“Plants for me to water, you mean,” he says, and ducks with a laugh when she slings a pillow in his direction.

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

The Hell version of a grocery store was just as terrible as the ones topside, but it was a little easier to manage with another person. If there was a crowd in front of one item they needed, Vincent would wait until it dissipated while Kora went for the next thing on the list. They had similar tastes and similar budgets, which meant the cart was full of the basic necessities they needed for the week together and a few things they couldn’t live without- for Vincent it was licorice, and potato chips for Kora. Nearly ready to go, Kora leaves him in line to go grab a new coffee that she had spotted for them to try, and in her absence who else would approach but Vincent’s almost least favorite co-worker?

“Vinnie, my boy!” Richard Riot approaches with a too-hard slap on the back, and Vincent plasters a polite smile across his pixels and silently wishes for Kora to hurry the fuck up. “Early morning for a late nighter, don’t you think? Don’t tell me you aren’t planning on joining the crew at the bar later!”

“I wasn’t aware of any such plans, sir,” he says, trying very casually to look around Richard’s giant eye to see if he could spot Kora. And yes- there she was, two aisles down, he spotted her tail crossing the main walkway. “I’d hate to intrude.”

“Nonsense! Why, I’ve been telling just about anyone that will listen that you’re one to keep an eye out for, lad- with your wit and that charming head of yours I think you’d be a real hit!”

“Wouldn’t he just?” And thank fuck, Kora to the rescue, dumping the coffee into the cart and stepping in front of him, a hand held out for Richard to shake. “I tell him all the time that he should be in front of the camera, not off holding papers behind it.” She gives him that dazzling smile that she has, and Vincent can see the brain cells in Richard’s head dying in the presence of a pretty woman.

“Vinnie, you didn’t tell me you had a gal,” Richard admonishes him, pressing a kiss to the back of Kora’s hand- and boy wouldn’t it just be a shame if the news anchor were punched in the eye-face right now? “And such a pretty one, too! Where have you been hiding her?”

“This is Kora,” he says, ignoring the comment about her being his ‘gal,’ but still throwing an arm around her shoulder and subtly pulling her out of the cyclops’ reach.  “We’re just getting groceries for the week, we really should be going, Rich.”

He nods his head, eye still cast adoringly on Kora. “Of course, of course! I mean it though, Vinnie, you and this lovely lady need to come out with us tonight! You can find us at Spite tonight, eight PM- don’t be late!” And he finally fucks off to whatever he had come to the store for, probably condoms or more shitty hair gel or whatever for his piece that fooled exactly no one since eyeballs didn’t have fucking hair.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Kora’s hand on his arm. “You okay? I know you don’t like him much.”

He shrugs away from her touch. “It’s not that I don’t like the guy,” he says, “he just tends to get… sleazy. Fake. I don’t like that in a reporter.” The words tickle something in the back of his brain that he pushes away, shoves back into the further recesses of his mind again- something from when he was alive, no doubt. “Come on, let's get checked out and head home.”

Home. Because it wasn’t just Kora’s place anymore- it was his, too. His books that he was gradually collecting had joined hers on the shelf; he had a favorite coffee mug that she brought to him on lazy mornings; there was a shark throw pillow on the living room couch because Kora had seen it and thought of him. Vincent no longer felt like just a guest there, someone that Kora was ‘helping out.’ She wanted him there as much as he wanted to stay.

Per usual, they argue a bit with the imp cashier over coupons and discounts for a few minutes before they can be back on their way, a couple of bags each carried the few blocks back to the apartment. Kora puts the cold items away while Vincent reorganizes the cabinets and restocks the toiletries they had purchased, like Kora’s shampoo and the hand soap that they both liked. It doesn’t take long, and they both collapse back into the couch with a book in hand- Vincent leaned against the shark pillow, Kora leaned against him.

After a bit of time spent decompressing from the store, Vincent breaks the silence. “Hey, that thing at the bar that Rich mentioned- we don’t have to go to that if you don’t want to. I know it was… kinda a rough morning.” She tilts her head back to look at him, eyebrows drawn with the slightest hint of irritation.

“Just because I had a nightmare doesn’t mean I don’t want to go out,” she tells him. “I could not want to go out for lots of reasons- this morning doesn’t necessarily need to be one of them.”

He runs a hand down her arm. “Do you want to go out? It's still early enough in the day, we can decide later. It’s whatever you want- whether because of earlier or not.”

She rotates in his hold, bringing her knees up on the couch to straddle him. “What I want right now,” she says coyly, pulling his book from his grasp and setting it down on the coffee table- and he would have to have a word with her about that later, because he hadn’t gotten to throw his bookmark in there to mark his place- “is for you to let your gal give you some attention.” She throws him a wink and runs her hands over his chest, slipping them up under the hem of his shirt.

Vincent knows that she’s mostly trying to shift the conversation away from this morning  and what she had revealed to him, the vulnerability she had shown in her sleep. And maybe he would try to bring it up again at a later time, but for now all the blood in his body is redirecting to his lap and he could only deny himself the chance to have her so many times. He pulls Kora into a kiss, soft and sweet before tongues are introduced into the equation, and then he’s not thinking of anything for a while but the feeling of his hands on her hips and the taste of her in his mouth.

Casual, lazy orgasms out of the way and both feeling relaxed and loose, they spend most of the rest of the day just enjoying one another’s company, reading on the couch with Kora’s head tucked up under his screen. She makes them an easy midday meal of grilled cheese, and as Vincent finishes his book Kora takes a short nap curled comfortably into his chest.

She wakes around six-thirty, stretching so hard on top of Vincent that her limbs shake and she lets out a soft whine of pleasure that he smiles at, scratching lightly at the top of her head. “Sleep well?” He asks, and she hums and props her elbow on his chest to rest her head in her hand.

“You make an excellent pillow,” she tells him, “despite how hard your chest is. It’s a marvel, really.”

He smirks, pulls her closer to kiss her. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Goldie,” he says, sliding his fingers into her hair to deepen the kiss, but she pulls away from him, expression thoughtful. “What’s up? Do you not like ‘Goldie?’ I can-”

“I think I do want to go to that bar with your coworkers,” she says, and he knows that his eyebrows have ticked up. “I think we could use a night out- as much as I enjoy your company it might be nice to see some other people for a change.”

He’s already nodding before she finishes talking- there wasn’t much that she could ask for that he wouldn’t do, that he wouldn’t give her. “You got it, baby- you planning on just wearing what you got on?” He gestures down the length of her body, clad only in one of her t-shirts and panties, pants and bra having come off the moment they got home like they always did.

“Hardy-har,” she deadpans, knocking on the side of his head. “I’ll go change and we can head out?” He releases her, watching her tail wag lightly behind her as she ducks into the bathroom. He reclines back into the couch, plucking at his shirt- he would throw a blazer or something over his t-shirt, a bar didn’t sound formal enough that he thought he would have to get super dressed up. Maybe he would wait and see what Kora wore and base his own outfit off that.

He doesn’t have to wait long before he hears the squeak of the bedroom door, and he’s reminded of the time he had seen her in just her towel in the hallway when he chokes on his own spit at the sight of her.

Her golden hair is still pulled up into its usual ponytail, but he hadn’t even known that she owned a shirt that wasn’t three sizes too large and emblazoned with some shitty joke on it. It was short-sleeved and tight, a little bow resting at the top of the buttons that covered what would have been a decent view of Kora’s cleavage. A soft blue, it was tucked into the band of a dark skirt that fell just above her knees, a pair of boots he had never seen before bridging the space between her feet and skirt so there was just a sliver of skin between. She had thrown something onto her eyes, framing them with some dark makeup shit that he didn’t understand, and she looked fucking perfect .

Held at knifepoint he probably still would have said he preferred her as she usually was- too large t-shirt thrown haphazardly over her body while she stood in the kitchen making coffee, or her cute billowy uniform shirt from the diner- but this… this could be real nice every once in a while.

“Who are you,” he asks, standing from the couch to circle her like a shark, “and what have you done with my Kora?”

“What do you think?” She gives him a little spin, the skirt twirling the slightest bit with the motion and flashing him with a bit more of her creamy thighs. “I know it’s a little outside of the norm but I thought I should look, you know, at least a little nicer meeting your coworkers.”

“You look fan-fucking-tastic,” he tells her, taking her hand to give her another rotation, pulling her against his chest when it ends. “You sure you wanna go out? We could just stay in; you could let me hike that skirt up and-”

Kora grabs his hand where he’s started to slide it down her back towards her ass, moving it back to the safety of her waist. “Nice try,” she says, “but you already said it was whatever I wanted. I would like to have a couple drinks and dance a little.” She gives him a lookover and that soft smile of hers. “Maybe a blazer over that?” She says, plucking at his shirt.

“Read my mind, doll,” he says, and reluctantly releases her to grab his one nice blazer and throw it on over his t-shirt. He pulls his shoes on by the door while Kora grabs a purse- a purse! Kora with a purse, instead of her little wallet that she keeps shoved into the pockets of her jeans most of the time- and they enjoy the slightly cooler air of a Hellish evening on the short walk into Imp City.

Vincent makes sure that Kora walks on the inside of the sidewalk, away from the street- his father might not have been around enough to teach him much, but how to treat a woman in public was certainly one of them. He was disproportionately aware of other demons on the street, beady, hungry eyes trained on Kora’s body as they walked. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, a sharp toothed snarl and a glare directed at anyone that got closer than looking across the street.

He realized he might have a slight problem when they entered Spite and his coworkers descended on her like sharks- bringing her hand to their mouths to press a kiss there, offering her drinks, complimenting him on how lovely she was. Which, yeah, fucking duh. Kora, the good girl that she was, stuck by his side while all of the introductions were done, probably half of the news crew at the bar with them. He figured all that time working at the diner must have prepared her for dealing with overeager shitheads who needed to chill out and get their hands off of her-

“There you are, Vinnie- and you brought the lovely Kora with you!” There was Richard, strolling onto the scene, the mean glowing glare of Joy Jagoff behind him with folded arms. “Have you had a drink yet, my dear? Vinnie, you haven’t even gotten her a drink yet? Come on, my boy, this isn’t amateur hour- let me buy your first drink, Kora, I insist. And don’t worry,” he says to Vincent, the strange tip of his eyeball head likely meant to signify some kind of fucked up wink. “I’ll be sure to bring your gal back in one piece!” He leads Kora away with a hand placed gently on her shoulder, and her face when she glances back at him is amused before the crowd closes and she’s lost to him.

Somehow he can still hear the clicking of Joy’s heels over the music as she approaches him. “Good to see you, Vincent,” she says, trailing a furry paw over his shoulders and down one of his arms. “Didn’t know you were into mutts.”

“Don’t call her that,” he snaps, and her snout turns up into a smile. “It’s her first time out in a while, I don’t need you sucking your name out of the evening.”

She smirks, her ears twitching on her head as she comes to stand in front of him. “Funny! You know, that’s something I’ve always liked about you. You ever get tired of amateur fucking with a bitch in heat you let me know.” She plasters a huge, fake smile on her stupid bear face and turns around. “Gosh, you must be Kora! Vinnie has told us hardly anything about you- it’s almost like he’s embarrassed!”

Kora and Richard have returned, something bright blue and probably fruity in her hand, but she doesn’t look happy as she stares Joy down. She makes eye contact with him though, and the corner of her lip quirks up. “Wish I could say the same about you- I hear so many complaints about you I can bear-ly stand it.”

The glass that Richard had handed to her crunched in her hand, eyes following Kora as she stepped around her to be by Vincent’s side. “Fucking excuse me?”

He’s holding back the chuckle in his throat when she leans into him, hand sliding up his chest to hang off his shoulder. “I’ve listened to your show though and I agree- simply un-bear-able.”

Joy snarls, her eyes glowing red and her hackles raising, claws emerging from her paws. “I will fucking kill you, you Fido-ass bitch-”

“Okay, ladies!” Richard steps in front of Vincent and Kora, blocking them from Joy’s view, and Vincent takes the opportunity to shoot her an unrestrained, manic grin- he hadn’t known she would say something like that. “Let’s have a time out here, okay? No reason to get hostile.” Joy glares at Kora from around Richard’s shoulder but backs off.

Kora, though, isn’t done apparently. She slips her arm around Vincent’s and pulls him away from the pair of them. “A paw-s is a good idea,” she says, with a pointed glance at Joy’s hands, “since Vincent and I are going to dance. Bye!” Richard chokes on a laugh that he poorly tries to cover up as a cough, and they can hear Joy bitching at him until they’re finally out of earshot in the middle of the dancefloor.

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

Vincent hadn’t liked bars on Earth. He thought they were crowded and smelly, and the women that tried to dance with him always smelled cloyingly of fake florals or fucking sunshine or some shit. The drinks were expensive, the other guys were like territorial bulls, and there was always some kind of fight breaking out.

But Vincent had never been to a bar with Kora before, and that apparently made all the difference.

She wasn’t a good dancer- she didn’t move like the rest of the sinners on the floor, instead opting to hold her fruity drink in one hand that she slowly nursed and just vaguely bob along to the music beside him, a wide smile on her face while she watched everyone else and him. She made friends with a few of the women nearby who complimented her on her outfit, asked her about her drink, the usual stuff that he assumed women got up to in bars. 

They wandered back over to the group of his coworkers for a bit, and Kora was a hit- with the exception of Joy, of course, who stood off to the side glowering and muttering under her breath. Everyone ignored her- Richard at one point threw an arm around Kora’s shoulder and tried to convince her that she should get into the news, that a fresh, beautiful face like hers on a mid-morning weather report would do wonders for their rating. Perfect woman that she was, she politely declined before dragging Vincent back to the dance floor, her drink now empty and abandoned and both hands around his waist.

A woman stumbled over to him, clearly shitfaced, and tried to kiss him- her hand sliding along the bottom of his screen and trying to tilt him down to meet her lips. Kora’s hand reaches over just in time, a finger pressed to the woman’s forehead and lightly pushing her away; it didn’t take much, as unsteady as the woman was. “Find your own,” Kora said, bringing her hand back to grip at Vincent’s forearm. “This one is mine.”

His body is at war for a moment while it tries to decide if it wants to send blood to his face or his cock, finally compromising with equal custody and leaving him blushing and half hard in his jeans. He pulls her back against him, not grinding, just wanting to feel her, breathing in the scent of her when she tips her head back, smiling at him. “You wanna get out of here?” They’d been out for a few hours now, nearing midnight, and she had to work in the morning.

The lines under her eyes crinkle. “Sure. Should we say goodbye to everyone?”

“Nah, they’ll figure it out. I bitch a lot but they’re a smart crew.” He leads Kora by the hand to the front of the club, where fate has placed Joy Jagoff right by the entrance. Her eyes are bloodshot and blurry, and when she speaks her words are slurred.

“Off to go fuck your bitch, Vinnie? Let me know when you’re ready for a real woman- let the cameraman watch and broadcast live on Nine Rings News.” She snorts into her glass. “That’ll give Richard his fucking ratings.”

Kora’s eyebrows crease angrily for a moment before she gives Joy a smile. “I think he’s good! And we’d love to stay but you know how it is, the cabs take fur-ever to get out here, right Vin?” They weren’t getting a cab- Kora just wanted to fuck with her, and she got her wish.

Joy lunges for her, Kora staying quick on her feet and sidestepping the lumbering demoness, letting her plow right into a small crowd of people who then struggle to hold her back. Richard’s eye appears in the mess of people, catching sight of Vincent and Kora as they duck, laughing, out the door at Joy’s scream of “YOU HAVE FUR TOO, BITCH!”

He hears Richard’s chuckle before the door closes behind them. “I think I like Vinnie’s Golden Girl,” he says to the group, and then they’re deposited onto the sidewalk in front of Spite, Kora giggling into his shoulder.

“You think she’s gonna hunt me down?” Kora asks him, and her eyes are wide and excited and he can’t resist the urge to lean down and kiss her, long and slow right in front of the bar.

“I’ll keep you safe, Goldie, don’t worry about it.” He takes her hand and the walk back home is done mostly in silence, less sinners out on the street for him to snarl and glare at than there were on the way to the bar. They get home safely, and Kora collapses onto the couch, yanking at her boots before Vincent kneels before her and unzips them, placing them neatly at the door. 

She’s watching him closely when he turns back to face her, leaning forward on her knees with her head propped in her hand. “Have you wondered why we haven’t had sex yet?” She asks him, and he feels his eyebrows tick upwards.

“I mean. Kind of? I wasn’t gonna say anything though- I figured we were just taking it slow. Which is fine,” he hurries to add, worried that she would think he was somehow disappointed with what they’d done thus far. “I’m not complaining at all-”

“I want to,” she says, and his cock throbs before he remembers where they’ve been all evening.

“You- Kora, you were drinking, we can’t,” he starts, and she brings a hand up to cup the bottom of his screen.

“One drink,” she tells him. “Nursed over the course of about two and a half hours and nothing since. And even if I hadn’t had that drink, I would still want to. I’m barely tipsy.” And she gives him the goddamn look- the one he can’t fucking say no to, when she wants her sugary popcorn or for him to pick up her nasty potato chips on the way home from the station, when she’s on her knees in front of him begging him to come in her mouth or on her tits. “Please? I want you to- you know, be the first one.”

He’s already ready to tell her yes when he registers what she’s said, a crackle sparking between his antennae and his face blinking off for a moment. “Sorry, what? Kora, you were married! You never-”

“Vin.” She looks at him with her eyebrows scrunched, hint of a smile on her face. “Gideon was gay , remember? Trust me, he didn’t want anything to do with what I have down here. And I might have kissed a few guys in high school and shit but I didn’t want to give it to anyone else.” She takes his hand, slides it up under her skirt to brush his fingers against the dampness between her thighs. “I want you, though. Please?”

And fuck, how could he say no to that- when she was pleading with him with his digits pressed to her soaked pussy, stroking the bottom of his screen with her soft hand with that upturned tick to her eyebrows. “Come here, baby,” he says, and removes his hand to wrap her legs around his waist and pick her up from the couch. “If we’re doing this we’re doing it right,” he tells her, and she presses a kiss against his face when he kicks the door open. He sits her on the edge of the bed, undoing the bow and buttons on her shirt, kissing his way down her body and working at her skirt next. When she’s naked before him he strips his own clothing off, climbing into the bed next to her and letting his throbbing erection just rest against her hip.

“Not yet,” he says when she reaches for him, and he kisses her softly as he slides his fingers into her- nothing they hadn’t already done, but he has a purpose this time, actually preparing her to take him. The thought zips through his body like electricity straight to his prick, and he can’t help the way he ruts softly against her skin. He’s gentle as he stretches and opens her up, groaning into her mouth at the way her hips grind down on his fingers and she gasps when he brushes that soft sweet spot inside. He focuses his attention there, brushing his thumb lightly over her clit and she’s coming, tensing in his arms and crying out his name.

Vincent was going to be the first person to fuck her. The first person she wanted to fuck her, a badge of fucking honor that he would wear for the rest of his afterlife, that he was the one she had deemed good enough, worthy enough for this. It makes him dizzy with arousal, and when her breathing evens out he rolls them so he’s hovering over her, positioning his cock at her entrance, dripping with her release and so fucking warm against the tip of him. “Are you ready?” He breathes out, and she nods, eyes clenching shut.

“Look at me, Kora. I need a verbal. Are you ready?”

Her eyes snap open, pupils blown wide and her lips trembling. “Yes, I’m ready,” she says determinedly, and he takes her mouth in a deep kiss while he pushes into her body.

Wet. Hot. Tight. Fuck fuck fuck.

He wars with himself for a moment and resists the urge to thrust. He’d not been inside a woman since he was alive, and it had been a good bit before he had died- not that he hadn’t had offers, he just hadn’t been interested, always chasing after his next big story for the station. He needed to give her time to adjust, let her enjoy it; make sure that she liked it so that she would want to do it again.

“Vin?” When he looks down at her, her eyes are clear, smile amused. “I’m a virgin, not a glass doll. You can move.” She thrusts her hips upward to prove her point, and his fingers dig into the meat of her hip.

“Fuck, fuck, I know. I just- I don’t want to hurt you,” he says earnestly, and the kiss she gives him in reward is the closest to Heaven he’ll find here in Hell.

“That’s sweet,” she assures him. “But for the love of Satan, please move. I’m ready- fuck me.”

Vincent chuckles into her mouth. “I suppose what the lady wants, she gets,” he says, and he draws himself back out of the vice grip of her cunt to push back in with a sharp snap of his hips. The moan she lets out at that is delicious, and he repeats the action, the sound punching out of her over and over again as he finds his rhythm, fucking into the beautiful woman below him like a man possessed.

She’s fucking perfect around him, the clutch of her on his cock the best thing he had probably ever felt in life or death. She was slick and welcoming for him, legs wrapped around the back of his like she wanted to keep him there forever. And he would happily oblige, he thought deliriously, bringing his knees up for a different angle that lifted her hips, brushed the tip of his prick against that sweet bundle of nerves inside of her. Kora choked out a whimper, her mouth hanging open as he jerks his hips into her, his name spilling out with curses like some sacrilegious prayer.

He brings his hand between them to rub at her clit again, and she tightens impossibly on him. Her breath catches in her throat, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on his arms, his shoulders, anything that she could reach. “Vincent, please,” she whispers, and he feels his stomach drop, balls tightening as his orgasm races towards him.

He needed her to come first. He would fucking die if she didn’t. He intensifies his efforts on her clit, presses short, desperate kisses to her mouth, her face, her chest. “You feel so good, baby, fuck- gonna come, need you to come for me- God, Kora-”

She whimpers his name when her orgasm strikes, her body tensing up hard under him and around him- the walls of her cunt ripple and drag his release from his body, distantly aware of her whining in his ear as he spends himself inside of her, long pulses of his come spilling as he continues to buck into her, mind blissfully blank before it blacks out completely.

When Vincent comes back, Kora is leaning over him like she had the first time it happened- this time, she has a smile on her face so bright she could power Imp City. “So that was good, then?” She asks him, and he growls a little, reaching up and pulling her down to his chest with a ruffle to her hair and a quick pull of the tail.

She giggles and quickly relents in her attempted escape from him, letting him pull her back into his arms and snuggling into his chest, head against the elevated thumping of his heart. “Thank you,” she whispers into his skin, so soft he’s almost not sure he heard it.

“I feel like I should be thanking you,” he tells her. “That’s twice now you’ve made me literally black out from how hard I came- maybe I should get you some flowers or something.” He can feel her smile against his chest and can’t resist a little tease- “Fake flowers, of course, Lucifer knows you can’t keep anything alive in this place without me-”

“Oh, fuck off,” she mumbles, reaching halfheartedly for the pillow on the other side of the bed without opening her fluttering eyelids- Vincent moves it, very casually, out of her reach. “I mean it- that was perfect. Thank you.” Kora goes quiet, her breathing still elevated where it ghosts across his flesh. 

“So, no round two tonight?” And this time she climbs fully off his chest to grab the pillow and shove it into his face, failing to muffle her laughter when he bites into it and feathers explode in the air, falling like snow around them.

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

Chapter 1 📺 Chapter 2 💛 Chapter 3 📺  Chapter 4  💛 Chapter 5

[noyaism]

Own It

Pairing: SunaxFem!Reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: car sex, drug usage (weed), degrading, orgasm denial, creampie, choking, spit play, sir!suna, power dynamics, spanking, praising, and a touch of size kink (lmk if i missed any warnings!)

Song Inspo: Own It - Drake

Ever since your first year of high school, the very first day when you met Suna Rintarou for the first time, you found yourself hopelessly crushing. You couldn't tell if it was his stoic look, the vibe he gave off, the intelligence under it all, but whatever it may have been, Suna peaked your interest in every way possible. This caused you to almost instantly befriend him. He was a bit of a tough nut to crack at the beginning of your friendship, but he eventually let you in and let you get close, and as that happened your feelings for him only grew stronger. 

And now here you were, in your first year of college. The feelings you had for him were the same as they had been for years now, not diminished in the slightest. Your friendship with him had become so important to you, though. He was a vital part in your life, and you had to learn to cope with the fact that telling him how you truly felt might ruin the way things were. That was a possibility you couldn't even begin to fathom, and so even though it almost killed you to do, you tried your best to keep those feelings at bay.

Even with your barred feelings, you still did everything with Suna, trying your best never to make your true feelings known. One thing the two of you had recently got into, after a party you were invited to and forcibly made him accompany you to, was smoking. You knew people who did it in high school, but it was never really your scene. You knew Suna had done it a couple times before going to the party, but that night he finally convinced you to try it, and ever since then you two smoked together almost on the daily.

It was a night as normal as any other one. Suna had texted you, asking if you wanted to go smoke. That question was a no brainer, as it always was, and he picked you up fairly soon after. You drove to your usual spot, the picnic area of a park that wasn't too far away from campus. It was usually emptied out by eleven, a couple stragglers stargazing was the most you ever saw. Tonight was about the norm, Suna’s car being the only one in the parking lot, you two the only ones around.

“Let me try rolling it.” You offered as Suna pulled a rolling tray out of the glove compartment, and the weed out of his jacket pocket. 

“You sucked last time you tried to roll. Sure you're ready to try again?” You stuck your tongue out at Suna, shaking your head lightly at the dig.

“I’ll never get better if I don't practice. Hand it over.” It was a fair enough assertion, thus Suna handed you the rolling tray, with both the bag of bud, a grinder and a pack of wraps on it. Admittedly, you weren't the best at rolling. Someone else had always done it for you, either that or you were smoking off carts, so it was never a skill you had really developed. It wasn't until recently that you had started to roll yourself, and it was definitely a bit harder than it looked. 

“Now see, this one is much better.” You said as you dried the blunt off, running a lighter over it to seal it all up. Suna chuckled lightly, nodding his head as he admired your work.

“Yeah, it looks pretty good, I gotta hand it to you.” You let out a satisfied chuckle and got into the back of the car, settling comfortably in the backseat and patting the space next to you.

“Cmon, I can and will smoke this thing alone if you don't get back here.” You jokingly threatened. Suna nodded, quickly grabbing his phone and putting some music on shuffle before joining you in the back. 

A white cloud of smoke filled the car, hazing your sight just enough for Suna, who sat beside you, to be just a bit more blurry than he should be. As he took the last couple hits the blunt had left he cracked the window open a bit, discarding it onto the cement below and rolling the window back up so too much of the smoke didn’t escape. You laid your head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar smell of cannabis and letting your breathing level out as the high started to set into your body. As per usual, the weed mellowed you out, allowing you to just relax with him. The silence from the lack of conversation was easily filled by the music that played from the speakers, F**k the World by Brent Faiyaz reverberating through the vehicle. Suna hummed lightly along to the song, and you shut your eyes and simply listened to him. 

It was times like this that you wished you had the guts to tell Suna how you felt about him, but once again you thought it best not to. Maybe it was how stoic he was; even though you were definitely the closest person in the world to him, and you probably understood his emotions the best, there was still no way for you to read if these feelings were at all reciprocated. It was the same things you found so attractive about him that also terrified you to open up. You didn’t want to read into the way he treated you, as you thought that was only setting yourself up to be disappointed, and so you simply wallowed in the feeling of a love so painfully unrequited that you were addicted to how bad it felt. 

“Are you okay, y/n?” He asked, noticing your expression was a bit off, which you hadn’t previously noticed. You nodded your head quickly, picking it up off his shoulder and looking over towards him.

“Yeah, yeah I’m chill. Mind kinda started to wander, is all.”

“Off to where?” 

“It’s nothing.” You quickly objected, shaking your head a bit frantically.

“It’s obviously something, just tell me.” You sighed lightly, knowing very well Suna wasn’t going to drop the topic until he knew what was bothering you. He cared way too much about how you felt to just let something like that go. You knew you had to just swallow your pride and tell him, but you couldn’t get the words out. The pure thought of saying you liked him made your throat feel like it was closing up. So, logically, there was only one way for you to get your point across.

Thus, you kissed him.

It wasn’t a long kiss, frankly because your cheeks got so hot you thought your head might just explode, but it was enough for Suna to understand what exactly it was you were trying to say. As you pulled away the gravity of what it was you actually did hit you, and you hid your face in your hands, shaking your head a bit.

“I’m so sorry, Suna. I didn’t mean to...well I did, but I just don’t want the fact that I like you to make things different between us.” Before he responded Suna took hold of your chin between his fingers, pulling your face up and out of hiding so you were now looking directly at him. 

“You’re an idiot. A pretty one, but an idiot nonetheless.”

Before you could ask what he meant his lips were on yours once again, but this kiss felt so much different than the first one. This one had passion behind it, passion that you didn’t know Suna even had for you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer so you could kiss him deeper. He pulled you onto his lap, hands firmly gripping your ass. 

As the music changed you began to move your hips to the rhythm, I Don’t Think You’re Ready by Tank bumping through the speakers. It was a pretty fitting song for the current situation, as you were simultaneously so ready for what might happen with Suna, and yet you hadn't a single clue if you were ready to take it all. 

Your hands snaked up into his hair, tugging softly on the brown strands as the kiss began to get even more heated. It didn't help that it was already pretty hot in the car, but this offered you the perfect opportunity to not only undress yourself, but Suna as well. You pulled your shirt up and off of you, letting it fall to the floor without much regard for where it was going. His jacket and shirt joined the growing pile, and in an instant your lips were reconnected. Kissing him was addicting, even better than what you had imagined it might've been like. 

You whined a bit as he pulled away, a pout coming over your lips.

“I’m guessing by that look you're okay with going further with this.” You nodded your head, leaning forward and kissing him softly.

“I’m all yours, Suna.”

“That's what I like to hear.”

Now that he had permission to continue, Suna was more than ready to get into it. Just as much as you fantasized what it would be like to be intimate with him, he thought the very same about you, and wanted to make some of his fantasies a reality. He reached behind you and swiftly unclasped your bra, lips latching onto your nipple as you discarded it. He rolled the opposite bud between his fingers, and your hips continued to grind into his. He kissed all over the skin of your breasts, a sweet gesture in comparison to his next moves. 

With one fluid motion your back was now clad to the backseat, and Suna hovered above you. The silver chain he wore around his neck dangled down into your face, enhancing the pure sight of him. Not even Michaelangelo himself could’ve carved a face and physique as near perfection as Suna’s, and the fact only your eyes got to feast upon the sight made it all the more attractive. He pulled your leggings off of you, your panties going with them. The feeling of being so bare in front of him was an interesting one. You would’ve expected that you were going to be more shy, more nervous about it, but it felt so right that you couldn’t have possibly felt that way. Suna bit his bottom lip as he looked down on you, admiring the sight of your nude body in front of him for what would be the first of many times.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?” He questioned before going down on you. While he wasn’t the biggest fan of his car, insisting it was a soccer mom car with way too much space than he would ever need, it seemed that the space was finally going to actually come in handy. You quite comfortably were laid out while he still had plenty of space to be between your legs. He placed soft, slow kisses on your inner thigh, each kiss heightening your need for him. By how wet you were it was obvious you were ready for him, and he wasted no time giving you what you wanted.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking softly before he began licking long stripes between your folds. Chills ran down your spine, and moans started to slip from your mouth aimlessly. Suna’s tongue flicked over your clit, making you feel pleasure previously unbeknownst to you. Sure, guys had given you head before, and sure, it felt okay, but nobody had ever come close to being this good. It felt absolutely unreal, and the extent of your pleasure was potent in the way you said his name. Over and over again; Suna, Suna, Suna. Like a prayer desperate to be heard. And he loved hearing it, too. It was all he needed to know how good he was making you feel.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth as you began to chase your orgasm, the heat pooling in your core becoming hotter and hotter. You needed to cum and you needed it bad, and you needed him to give it to you. Suna slipped a finger into you, the second coming in quick succession. His mouth parted with you and his thumb began circling your most sensitive bud, so he could come up and loom over you.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” He asked, with a shit-eating grin on his face. He couldn't shake just how pretty he thought you looked like this, all desperate for him to please you. You nodded your head frantically, looking up at him with pure lust in your eyes.

“Ple-please make me cum, Suna.” You begged, much to his liking. He leaned down and kissed you gently, that same grin on his face as he pulled away. 

“Of course, baby. I’ll make you cum,” He prefaced before quickly removing his fingers from you, leaving you empty and with a ruined orgasm. You whined in frustration, confused as to why this was his course of action.

“But you’re gonna cum on my cock. Got it?” You nodded your head as Suna moved to take off his pants, finally letting his hardened erection spring free. You weren't sure what you had expected him to be packing, but the mere girth of him surpassed whatever you would've thought you were getting from him.

“Yes, sir.” You replied, causing Suna to chuckle lightly. He guided the tip of his member between your folds, lubing up with all the wetness that was already present. It was such a sight for him, one he had been wanting to entreat upon for a long, long time now. 

“That’s my good girl.” He praised before slowly starting to push into you. He took his time, not wanting to hurt you, but he had to admit the way you were clenching around him already was enough to drive him mad. He bottomed out soon enough, and you took him to the hilt. It felt so unbelievably good, and you gave him the okay to start moving. Suna kept his hands on your hips, keeping you steady as he began thrusting. Your eyes rolled back and your back arched, your body overwhelmed with pleasure. 

Your brain was kind of scrambled, hazy from how sensitive you were due to your previously denied orgasm, in conjunction with the high you were still on, but you could make out the song that had started to play. Own It by Drake, again, a pretty fitting song for the moment.

You’re still the one that I adore, ain’t much out there to have feelings for…

Both you and Suna had your passions, the things and people you cared about, but those lists were incredibly limited. There just wasn’t a lot that truly excited you. However, there had always been something that made you gravitate towards each other, something that made you need to be around each other, that caused you to be instrumental in each other's lives. Even if you wouldn't outwardly admit it, you adored each other.

Next time we fuck, I don’t wanna fuck, I wanna make love… 

But this time, you two were simply fucking. There was nothing more to it. It was raunchy, it was dirty, and little did you know, the fun was only just beginning for the both of you.

Suna kept his thrusts a bit on the slower side, much more concerned with how deep he was hitting than how fast he was going. It drove you absolutely wild, feeling every inch of him each time he moved. It was almost too much for you, your walls tightening around him more and more with even the slightest of moves he made.

“God damn, this slutty little cunt just can’t get enough of me, huh?” These words caught you completely off guard, you just wouldn’t expect Suna to say something so utterly vulgar, but admittedly, it turned you on way more than it probably should’ve. You shook your head lightly, looking him in the eyes, your gaze spilling over with desperation.

“N-need more.” You begged, much to Suna’s satisfaction. He smirked down at you, letting his right hand snake up your body and wrap around your throat while the left kept you firmly in place, with the entirety of his cock filling you up. 

“Cmon baby, you got better manners than that, don't you?” His tone was so divinely condescending, not really asking if you knew better, but insinuating you needed to. You were in no position to be anything but obedient, nor did your intentions differ. You wanted everything he had and were willing to do whatever it took to get it.

“Please, sir. I need more, I need it so bad.” You repeated, sounding even more desperate than you did before. By the look in his eyes you knew this was enough for Suna, who slowly pulled out of you. 

“Open your mouth.” He instructed, to which you immediately obeyed. He spat into your mouth, which you more than willingly accepted, a small smirk curling the corner of your lips as you swallowed. You were letting Suna know that he was in charge, and that you were there for him to use, his toy. He easily got the message, letting out a chuckle as he released his grip on your throat.

“Nasty little bitch.” 

Suna quickly turned you over onto your stomach, your face now pushed against the cold leather of the seats. His re-entry was quick, a soft squelch being heard as your walls greedily pulled his length right back in, giving you that oh-so euphoric feeling of being full once again. You moaned out loudly, a small yelp following at the unexpected spank he rained down on your ass. It was the first of many, while Suna simply enjoyed how you squirmed on him with each hit. 

After a fairly decent amount of spanking, enough to leave a deliciously painful sting on your skin, he started to fuck into you again. Suna’s slow strokes certainly weren't gentle, each seeming to hit deeper than the last, but this quickened pace turned that feeling up to a ten. Your mouth hung open as you took it all, moans and whines spilling out carelessly. Suna kept one hand firmly pressed onto the window for leverage, the other gripped hard on your waist, certainly enough to leave a light bruise. The sound of skin slapping with each of his thrusts rang through your head, and his grunts added atop that easily drowned out whatever music was playing. You much preferred this song, anyway.

“C’mere, ride me like the good little slut you are.” You didn't need to be told twice, as Suna pulled out and sat himself down you got yourself up and straddled him. You lined his tip up with your entrance, not lowering down onto him just yet, egging him on just to see how he would react. Fitting to what you expected, he grabbed onto your hips and forced you down, a surprised moan coming from you as your head fell onto his shoulder. 

“No no no, you don't get to tease me, whore. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Got it?” You nodded your head, letting out a small ‘yes sir’ in reply, too breathless to speak above a whisper. Suna’s hands gripped onto your ass as you started to ride him, bouncing on his length, circling your hips a bit every time you came down. 

Holding your orgasm back for this long was way more taxing than you would've thought it would be, your legs were shaking and your walls spasmed sporadically, desperate to finally get some relief. A pit of heat once again started to billow in your core, and you prayed you would finally get to cum.

“S-sir please, I need to cum...fuck, please let me cum.” The utter anguish in your voice did so much for Suna, knowing how much control he had over you and your pleasure turned him on more than anything else. He owned you, and he owned your orgasm, and you were both well aware of it. He was incredibly close himself, evident by how he started to pound up into you, matching the pace you had set. 

“Cum for me.” 

And you did. Almost instantly your high washed over you. You let out a moan that bordered on a scream as your juices spilled all over Suna’s dick. The spasms of your walls around his length made Suna cum as well, depositing a load out into you. For a while you two were fairly quiet, both catching your breath from what was undoubtedly the best orgasm either of you had had up until that point. 

You slowly got up and off of him, soreness almost immediately setting in now that you were empty. Suna ran a hand through his hair, fixing it up a bit before looking over at you. He motioned to his cock, a bit of a smirk still present on his lips. 

“Clean up your mess, baby.” You nodded at your instructions before leaning down, taking Suna’s length into your mouth. You licked up every last drop of both you and him, leaving nothing to waste. Once finished you popped your head up, wiping the corner of your mouth. Suna pulled you up and kissed you, placing a peck on your forehead as he pulled away. 

“So, you like me too?” You asked with a small smile. The answer to the question was more than blatantly obvious, but you still wanted to actually hear him say it.

“Of course I do, y/n. Everyone seemed to know but you, anyway.”

“And who is ‘everyone’, exactly?”

“Kita, Aran, the twins, you name it. Atsumu still won’t stop teasing me about not asking you out. Texts me every single day asking if we’re together yet.” 

With that in mind you picked up the shirt Suna had taken off, pulling it over your head before reaching up into the front cupholders to get your phone. He redressed himself fairly quickly, leaving a bit of his jacket unzipped at the top. You unlocked the device and started a Facetime with Atsumu, drumming your fingers on your thigh as you waited for an answer, making sure only you were in the frame.

“Hey! What’s up y/n, long time no see.” Atsumu greeted, giving you a smile and a wave. He was sat on his couch, a plate of sushi and a can of beer visible on the table where he had set his phone up.

“Yeah, it’s been a while. I was just calling to tell you he finally did it.” Atsumu looked at you a bit confused at first, but as you moved to get Suna in the frame as well it immediately clicked.

“Holy shit, thank god. I was getting tired of waiting, I was going to do it for him soon.” You let out a small chuckle, happy to see Atsumu was as bright as ever in his humor.

“Wait, hold on. Are you wearing his shirt? Did you guys fu-” Before he could finish the question Suna ended the call, shaking his head lightly.

“Yeah, I’m never gonna hear the end of that one.”

[reluctantrfamember]

A (Not So) Quick n Dirty Take Down of BE2: Electric Boogaloo

So we all kinda expected this to more-or-less suck, right? Or those of us who already disliked or at least didn’t simp for the original BE2 did. Either way, this is mostly being written for catharsis purposes, so if you did enjoy this DLC— I would encourage you not to read this review, much less fight me about it, lol. It would, simply put, be a massive waste of time for the both of us, because I cannot stress this enough: I do not care to have my mind changed.

Rest under the cut.

THE MECHANICS

First and foremost, this DLC is straight up broken or so incoherently written that it might as well be broken lmfao. There are two endings, the yellow ending and the green ending, and the choices you make in order to achieve either ending seem to be completely arbitrary. Most of the time, you’re going to end up getting the green ending, or the “kinky” ending, regardless of how tame your dialogue choices are. It took me about five play-throughs before I actually got the other ending, and the choices I picked to get there seemed to have... no narrative connection whatsoever. The only explanation for this is that Cheritz wasn’t particularly rigorous when testing out this ending, which doesn’t reflect especially well on their enthusiasm for this DLC overall, lmao. Regardless, it makes for an incredibly frustrating playing experience.

THE... PLOT?

The plot, such as it exists, is essentially this: After BE2, Jumin and MC move into Jumin’s childhood home to live out their lavish dom/sub lifestyle. Over the following few days, split up into frankly incredibly short episodes, you may or may not discover little glimpses into Jumin’s past, seemingly through... visions? Because Cheritz has stopped giving a fuck. Anyway, they all essentially reveal that Jumin’s cold-hearted and calculative birth mother would continuously curtail Jumin’s emotions — while at the same time getting “creeped out” by him behaving similarly cold and calculative, so much so that she locked Jumin up in a basement downstairs with a bunch of his childhood toys. The reason she did this? Uh... so that he’d learn to behave like a normal child. Apparently. I guess. Yeah it’s fucking weird. (She also has a strange fixation on Jumin Mixing His Genes Up with the right person so he can make a super sociopath baby or some shit.) Anyway, I’d say choice a or b would lead you to ending c or d, but as previously mentioned there seems to be no correlation with the nature of your choices and the ending you get. It’s broken or Cheritz didn’t give a single shit, so I’m not going to try and be chronological here for the rest of this stuff. So in no particular order or relevance to an ending, here is *some* of the batshit events that also happen in BE2: Electric Boogaloo:

Jaehee shows up to get Jumin to sign some documents, and he only does 30% of his job before forcibly kicking Jaehee off the premises because he wants to be alone with MC. You can push back on this, but Jumin ultimately gets his way and there really is little indication from Cheritz that this is poor behaviour on Jumin’s part, since both endings to this DLC are regarded as “happy endings”.

MC can choose to call Zen or play video games with Yoosung. If you call Zen, Jumin eventually cuts off your phone call somehow, pins you to your bed, and chastises you for making him jealous — but don’t get too intrieged, it’s honestly more creepy than hot, but an absolute W for Zen stans who hate Jumin. If you play video games with Yoosung, Jumin seemingly stalks you in the game as well and eventually cuts off your internet access for a whole 24 hours because he doesn’t want you to neglect him. I am filing for a divorce, nobody takes Twitter drama away from ME for that long— Also, as a side note, Jumin isn’t physically in the room for this one but instead comes in over some speakers to tsk-tsk-tsk you for being chronically online. Love it when my daddy dom bf acts like we’re in a fucking SAW film. Extra side note but how the fuck would Yoosung know Jumin’s mom used to lock him up downstairs? LMFAOO Seems like something Jumin wouldn’t just casually let slip but whateverrrrrr

You can astral project to talk to Saeyoung at some point. He offers you a vision of Jumin’s weirdo mother, again. Context? Oh, you want context? There is none. You astral project, what’s there to get?

Remember that basement Jumin got locked up in? You and him eventually wind up down there yourselves and he decides he wants to fuck you. Surrounded by his childhood toys. With his mother upstairs, who allegedly has stage four terminal brain cancer. He also makes you dress up in an adult princess costume after? Yep. Yeah. I don’t want to unpack any of this. It’s a Freudian nightmare hellzone up in here fellas and I hate to say it but this isn’t the last of this brand of cringe.

THE ENDINGS

As mentioned previously, there are two endings. In the green ending, you sneak out of the mansion and run away with Jumin to his summer home where nobody knows where any of y’all are. It’s implied that all you do, LITERALLY all you do from here on out, is get your pussy smashed by Jumin’s monster cock until the end of time. Congratulations...? I mean, you’d get that in the good ending too, just with the tiny added benefit of him being emotionally stable and less inclined to skip out on all his responsibilities, which would definitely catch up to the both of y’all one way or another lmao. Just because Jumin’s currently rich doesn’t mean his dad couldn’t just fucking fire him for neglecting his job or even cut him out of his inheritance, so I guess? Have fun? While it lasts? You don’t even get to see him without his shirt so really this is just the “lol, suckers” ending.

In the yellow ending, things are... slightly better? But objectively still piss poorly written and more comical than anything else, not to mention vaguely incestuous???? At least from the mother. Annnnnyway, before Jumin and MC can fuck off to his summer home, Jumin’s birth mother shows up. She had been in contact with him throughout these events and told him that she was dying of a brain tumor and her last wish was to see him married off to someone of Good Breeding™. Incidentally, she tries to convince Jumin to meet with this prospective bride by telling him that she’s just like her, and cited that sons are often drawn to women who remind them of their mothers. Yep. Yeah. Excuse me while I fucking hurl. Anyway, Jumin obviously refuses, so mother dearest attempts to bribe MC into breaking up with Jumin — and the sad part is? You can totally play this ending up as a gold digger. It’s played for laughs, really, although you never actually accept anything in the end. Love apparently triumphs and mom fucks off to die — except wait! Apparently she was just... lying this whole goddamn time about having a tumor, and the writers decide to play this off with a cheeky, “What a family!” What indeed, Cheritz. What indeed. The only thing that makes this ending moderately better is Jumin actually does go back to work and he proposes/wants to start a family. I’m sure their child will grow up in an absolutely healthy environment without developing any issues whatsoever. /heavy sarcasm if it wasn’t evident

JUMIN

Man, where the hell do I even start? Jumin’s characterization is an absolute mess and often over-exaggerated for jokes (e.g. when he tries to drive off with MC but uh, can’t start the vehicle). This isn’t a byproduct of it not being “Good End” Jumin, either — a lot of shit doesn’t track with how he acts in the bad ending, too. Prime example: for some reason left seemingly unexplained, Elizabeth is back and this has no bearing on aaaaaanything. The entire reason Jumin spiralled into a state of obsession over MC to begin with was because he thought Elizabeth had abandoned him and subsequently wanted to make sure MC wouldn’t abandon him either. So now that she’s back? How did he process this. Answer: We don’t know. A core part of Jumin’s emotional arc is just totally unaddressed.

Probably the saddest part of all of this though is that there are a few glimpses of the Real Jumin™ sprinkled in here. For instance: At some point he decides to sleep in your room (side note: why tf do y’all have separate rooms lmao) and cuddles up to you, starved for affection and desperate to learn about genuine love— but it just made my stomach sink because, remember y’all, MC really doesn’t give a shit about Jumin as a person in either of these endings. You’re horny with him, possessive over him, and sometimes tell him you love him. But the rest of the time? You’re pushing him to talk to his abusive mother, who locked him up in a basement for 17 hours straight once, or you’re just brazenly acting like a brat and a gold digger. What few assurances you can give Jumin that you’re not after any material Things he can give you also ultimately falls flat, because neither endings really properly reflect this, so in the end BE2:EB Jumin is just... a husk of who he was in his route. But I guess he’s a good lay, so there’s thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat.

GENERAL INCOHERENCE & HOKINESS

Okay, can anyone tell me what significance there is to Jumin’s mom locking him up in the basement? No, really. What correlation is there between this event and Jumin’s psyche? It’s obviously implied that these incidents are what more or less lead to Jumin having these inclinations over MC, but the circumstances are entirely different. Jumin’s mom neglected him and locked him downstairs to play with toys. That is all. Jumin wants to lock you up so that you can’t abandon him. If this childhood trauma is the reason he’s Like This, then wouldn’t it make more sense if Jumin’s mother was also insanely possessive or something...? Like, fuck it, here’s a scenario: We know Jumin was kidnapped at least once when he was a child based on some phone calls in another story. What if after this, Jumin’s birth mother became obsessed with keeping him locked away from the rest of the world and started heavily restricting where he could go until eventually culminating in locking him up in the basement for hours on end. This coupled with her eventually getting divorced from Han Sr and fucking off from Jumin’s life would not only give him abandonment issues but also result in an unhealthy association between confinement and love. Or, you know, better yet — don’t do any of this shit, Cheritz?????? Like, fucks sake, what do you guys have against mothers? We know Jumin’s stepmom was a piece of shit but why does Jumin’s birth mother also need to be a piece of shit, who locks him up in a “cage” no less? This is so unnecessary and feels like Cheritz just wants to continuously resell Saeran’s backstory and apply it to other characters.

Also, just being honest: A lot of the “kink” stuff (which was frankly pretty vague) felt like it could’ve come out of a fan fiction written by a high schooler who just recently discovered BDSM. Imagine telling your boyfriend’s employee “don’t talk about my MASTER that way!!!!” and not immediately disintegrating from such a high concentration of cringe. Y’all realize even in extreme d/s relationships there’s still... a specific time and place for that shit, right? And you’re not really supposed to rope other people into it? Check the master shit at the door MC, Jaehee isn’t paid enough to put up with you *and* Jumin lmao. Also Cheritz is an absolute coward for only really showcasing Jumin’s dom side through unhealthy possessiveness and not, like, actual sex scenes. I mean come on, they’re almost all fade-to-black and end with “hehehoohoo then juju and I had a steamy time!!!!” as though that’s gonna get anyone other than sheltered dipshit teens hot and bothered. Cheritz will write about detailed torture but allude at sex with the tamest possible fan fic language and still blush too hard to follow through, lol. Frankly, if I did like BE2, I’d feel ripped off.

PROBLEMATIQUE ™

This is an obligatory heading to state the obvious: neither of these endings are goddamn healthy. It may say “happy end” for both of them, but it still takes place in the context of the bad ending, and even if Cheritz wants to peddle this as a good ending now, sorry chief — I ain’t fuckin buyin it. Cheritz is not educated (period) enough on the nature of BDSM relationships like this to write one that is both convincing and healthy. There’s some superfluous talk about this all being a “fantasy” and MC having control here, and that’s all well and good, but you know what the problem is? In your choices, you can sometimes mention how you don’t have any freedom, but Jumin doesn’t actually adjust. More often than not though, you can’t say no at all — just variations of “yes”. Also, quite frankly, although I love Jumin, he is an immensely powerful billionaire — if he wanted to, he could make sure you stay caged whether you wanted it or not. There is an inherent and extreme power imbalance here that is no way addressed — you’re just kinda supposed to trust Jumin or be okay with it all. And it sucks. It sucks as rep for BDSM relationships, it sucks for Jumin’s perception, and it sucks to play.

CONCLUSION

what can i say but oof? also good end Jumin gets pegged. it’s canon because i say so, stay mad. B)

[amethystpath-writes]

BTHB Communication Suddenly Cut Off

@badthingshappenbingo

Original work!

Communication Suddenly Cut Off

******

Hero adjusted her shoulder, elbow on the arm of her chair. "No way!" She dropped her spoon into her bowl of cereal. "She actually said that to him?"

On the other end of the line, Friend laughed. "Oh yeah. I don't blame her a single bit! I mean, he was borderline stalking her. You remember when we were at Max & Erma's and he dressed up as a waiter just to see her? Insane."

Picking her spoon back up and shoveling it into her mouth, Hero mumbled a 'Yeah, guess you're right'.

"So what have you been up to? I missed you at the party today. You doing alright?"

Bending forward with legs bent on the cushion, Hero put her bowl on the coffee table in front of her. She grabbed her phone with a hand instead of holding it between her head and shoulder. Hero was cramping enough without having to take up weird body positions.

"I'm alright," she said. "Just exhausted from work, you know?" Exhausted from fighting a villain you hopefully know nothing about.

Friend was silent for a moment. "I get it. It sucks not seeing you though. Maybe we could have a movie night." Her voice pitched at this. "Be exhausted all you want that way. I'll get us some popcorn. And! I'll get the nacho cheese stuff to sprinkle over it!" Hero smiled in her seat. "I'll pick up a few movies from Redbox, too, so we don't have to watch a bunch of oldies. Okay, that's it. That's the plan. Now," Friend hummed then began mumbling, "It's five o'clock and Mom needs eggs from the store. I'll try to be there by-"

The line went fuzzy, a quiet chshhhhhh. "Friend? Hey, you're cutting out." Hero stood from the chair, walking to the window. Maybe there was better reception there? If it was on Friend's end then it didn't matter much, but she could at least try. "Friend? You there?" She pulled the phone away, the screen of her phone lighting up. Hero was on a second call. No name though. Weird. She hung up, or at least tried to. The screen hadn't changed when she tapped the little red phone. Hero tapped it again, but nothing happened.

Next time she tapped the counting timer that told her how long she was on a call with Friend. The phone call returned normally and the other disappeared. She shook her head.

"H-ero? I th-ink-"

Hero cut to the chase. The call wasn't getting any better. "What time?"

Chshhhhhh.

Damnit, Hero thought, and peeked at her phone again. 'Unknown Caller' it read for a second time. "Hello?" she said impatiently. No answer. "Hellooo?" Nothing.

She hit the home screen, tapping the text message icon then tapped on Friend's contact. 'Hey. Phones are acting weird. What time do you think you'll be here?' Hero typed. Hitting send, a red and encircled X appeared. 'Message failed to send' it said below. She touched the X and then touched where it said 'Retry'. The X reappeared. Hero repeated the process once. Twice. Three times. Four. Five. Nothing, nothing, nothing. "What the hell?" Her phone was slow sometimes, but never this bad. "She'll get here when she gets here I guess."

Her phone began to ring just as she tossed it on the couch across the room. Sighing, she went to pick it back up. 'Unknown Caller'. No. If it was important, they could leave a message or text her. Hero didn't pick up from numbers she didn't know, or from numbers that didn't appear on screen. She pushed the lock button on the side of the phone, rejecting the call.

"How rude, rejecting my call."

Hero froze. Her shoulders drew tight, her spine straightened so much that it cramped as badly as when she held her phone with a shoulder. Her jaw clenched and her eyes went wide, staring vacantly at the couch cushion in front of her. Was Hero breathing? If she was, she didn't feel it.

"Won't talk to me on the phone and now not in person either, hm?"

Goosebumps rose along her arms as she heard the villain stepping closer. How had he gotten in? She turned. "How did you find me? Where did you get my information? What else do you know?" Information being both her address and phone number, maybe even her specific phone if he was able to block her communications the way he did.

Villain looked so casual, he always did. You'd never expect him to be a madman who plotted humanity's demise. He looked like a fancy historian; brown pants, black turtleneck, plaid and half buttoned jacket. He had his hands planted in his pants pockets now. Hero still had no idea how he managed to get inside of her apartment.

He chuckled at her uptight-ness. "Can't we just chat for once- for a minute before you question my how-comings and motives?"

"No," Hero responded shortly.

Villain fake-pouted. "How's come? You and your friend seem great. I would love to gossip to you the same way."

Hero rolled her eyes. Her shoulders were still tense, but she was relaxing- not so far that she wasn't prepared, but just enough that she wasn't uptight beyond movement. "You didn't answer me. What else do you know? How did you learn anything about me?"

He smiled at her. "Now that's a fun story. Guess I get to monologue after all."

"Make it short."

"Or what?" He dazzled her with a wider smile, one that showed teeth. Was it just her or were they sharpened? It was just her, definitely just her- and her anxiety, her terror.

Villain strode to the chair Hero had been sitting in just minutes ago. He plopped down, ankle on knee, arms on either side. "Go on," he told her. "Sit."

"Maybe you should stand."

He chuckled without moving. "Darling, I don't think you understand how easy I have been on you. In multiple ways, actually." His eyes fell from her own to the couch behind her. "Sit." Villain looked at Hero again and she swore something changed in his eyes. They almost seemed darker. She obeyed.

"Now, I think you recall that little stalker of your friend?" Hero squinted, but nodded. "Did you know he's able to take up the appearance of anyone he wishes?" He didn't wait for a response. "In that, he's also able to project his own appearance onto bystanders, even control what they would do as him. Very talented, very...mindfully aware."

Hero shook her head. "Where are you going with this?"

He shushed her, softly, as if she was a baby. "He came under my employment about a month ago. Remind me," he said, "how long ago it was that your friend became ill."

Her eyes went wide and she nearly launched from her seat, realizing what he meant. Villain might attack her if she acted out so suddenly though. Hero remained seated.

"What have you done with her?" she demanded. It made sense what he said. Whoever his worker was, he made himself look like Friend 2 then made anyone else appear like him. But where was Friend 2 if she hadn't been with Hero and Friend all along?

"Nothing too dastardly. She isn't starving, but I'm sure she would appreciate a nice chicken dinner."

"And Friend?" she asked, somewhat panicked. Friend was okay, she had to be. Yeah, the phone call ended somewhat abruptly, but that was just because Villain interfered. Beyond that, she was fine, right?

Villain shrugged. "What do you think?"

Her eyes stung with tears she refused to let fall. She shook her head. "Why are you here? What are you doing?"

"Entertaining myself mostly. You're my opponent. I wanted to brag."

"I'll kill you," she swore. "If not tonight, I will find you like you did me, and I'll kill you when I do."

Villain's eyes twinkled from afar. "Cute. Very cute." He laughed heartily. "I told you already that I've been easy on you, right?" Again, he didn't wait for an answer. "I'm here for more than bragging rights. I want you to come with me. I've given you opportunity enough to back down on your own; I'm giving you another now. Come with, or I'll have to force your hand."

Her eyes became squinted and her lip lifted. "I'm sorry?"

"Surrender," Villain said simply. His legs uncrossed and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "If you don't I'll take you away forcibly."

Hero huffed a laugh. "As if you could. When have you ever bested me?" In truth, she was terrified. He was being serious, no amusement crossing his features. And the number of times he'd mentioned 'going easy on her'...what if he was telling the truth?

"Try something now then. Lunge at me." His lips were in a straight line. No emotion.

She considered him. Serious. He's serious. Villain was inviting her to attack him. Maybe she should take the opportunity.

Without another thought, she leaped from the couch, ready to tackle Villain, even though he was in a chair. She would have knocked the whole chair back if she could. But, something stopped her, a- a wall of sorts, one that glimmered like a bubble. "What-?" She touched that wall. Her fingers couldn't pass through. Shaking her head, she spun on a heel trying to return to the couch. Unfortunately she ran into another wall. "You're doing this," Hero muttered, facing Villain once again. She swallowed seeing his smile.

"So, you'll come with on your own. Otherwise I can push you along myself, and I think that would be rather humiliating, don't you?"

"This doesn't prove anything. You can push me, but you can't command me."

"Isn't it the same?" Villain sighed seeing Hero's fiery stubbornness. "Fine then. Let's have a little charade." He stood from Hero's chair, face forming into something...something Hero didn't quite understand. "I forgot to grab something to drink before I came here. Do you have something for me to drink, Hero?"

Her lips moved. "Yes, of course, Villain. Let me show you to the kitchen." Her hand flew to her mouth afterward. She hadn't said that. She hadn't said that. Hero's eyes found Villain's.

"Lead the way," he said.

Hero's feet moved on their own, leading the two to her kitchen despite how she tried to resist. She couldn't even feel herself pulling back. There was no resistance except for in her thoughts. She began unwillingly talking again. "There's some water bottles in the bottom right drawer. Fruit punch juice boxes on the left- though my younger cousin will be disappointed when she finds not only me missing, but her juice as well." 'When she finds not only me missing.' So this was how Villain would take her, by commanding her just like she said he couldn't.

What was almost worse was that what Villain made her say was exactly right. Water bottles, bottom right drawer. Fruit punch juice boxes in the left drawer. One of three things could have happened. One, Villain had that stalker, body-switching guy, go through her home while she was gone. Two, Villain himself went through her house while Hero was absent, or when he somehow snuck into her house while simultaneously messing with her phone today. Three, he had access to her mind. The last one would have sounded ridiculous if it weren't for the way Villain was controlling her now.

"You're realizing you have no choice now, aren't you?"

Hero nodded her head. She couldn't tell whether it was her doing it or if Villain was still possessing her. Either way, he was right.

"Why?" she asked. Villain tilted his head. Hero believed he could have gotten his answer if he wanted. Still, she continued, "Why are you doing this? Taking me? Is it not enough that you've taken my friends?"

Her body turned to the exit. She began walking through, walking to the front door of her apartment. They were really leaving. She was going to get sick.

"I'm tired of you fighting is all. It will be much easier to accomplish my goals if I don't have to worry about turning you away every time."

"Then kill me." She swallowed after she said it. Hero didn't really want him to kill her, but she also didn't want to be taken. Villain said Friend 2 was okay, not starving, but would certainly be happier if she was given more. Hero had a feeling she wouldn't be given the same treatment. Villain might actually starve her because of her putting a kink in all of his plans, for not surrendering when she was given multiple chances to.

"Am I really so awful to be around?" Villain asked behind her as she led the way to the elevators. "I should think my style makes up for any unpleasantness. This jacket was bought yesterday. I'm rather dashing in it, aren't I?"

Just as unwillingly as before, Hero said, "Yes, very."

******

Requests are accepted!

[sociallyawkward--fics]

Things Done in the Shadows

I think this was one of the first Witcher oneshots I ever finished, almost directly after the show, and honestly it is weeks and WEEKS old because this was back when I was still too chicken to post any of my Witcher fics for fear of them being terrible lol. I went through and edited this one a bit (for once lol) and then decided it was good enough to post since I need to stop anxiously hoarding fics and actually post the things I finish lol. Hope y'all enjoy it!!

Word Count: 1438 words

[ao3 link]

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

Jaskier knew this one was on him.

In his defense, he had been drunk and on another one of his “try and get over the idiot witcher you’re in love with” binges, but that didn’t really solve the situation as it was now.

Which just so happened to be sleeping with a person with a very powerful and very jealous spouse. They hadn’t even bothered to mention they were married beforehand! Not that that information tended to stop Jaskier anyway, but now he was in deep trouble.

Jaskier raced through the streets as quickly as he could, but he knew the “friends” of the spouse were gaining on him. He also wasn’t Geralt, and he could feel his stamina quickly waning. The men shouted behind him, waving weapons, and Jaskier tried to put on another burst of speed, but there was simply nothing left.

But speak -- or think -- of the devil, and he shall appear, because Jaskier saw Geralt turn the corner ahead of him, still bloodied and dirty from a job.

Geralt seemed to notice him a moment later, his expression shifting minutely to one of recognition. Then, immediately after, a less minute shift to an expression of exasperation. He watched Geralt’s lips form his name in that annoyed way of his, but it didn’t matter. Geralt showed up, Geralt was getting roped into it.

So Jaskier grabbed his arm as he ran past.

Jaskier knew Geralt was fully capable of resisting him. The man was built like a brick shithouse, Jaskier probably couldn’t forcibly move him even if he threw his entire weight into it. And frankly, he almost expected Geralt to stand his ground.

But Geralt allowed himself to be pulled along and jogged (jogged, the audacity, Jaskier was sprinting) alongside him.

“What did you do now,” Geratl growled.

“Oh, you know,” Jaskier said between gasps of breath. “A little of this, a little of that. The usual.”

Geralt growled, wordlessly this time, and grabbed him roughly by the arm. Jaskier yelped a protest, but Geralt ignored it, either not caring or not hearing (most likely the former, given his witcher senses). He practically carried Jaskier through the streets, racing through them and taking various twists and turns.

The sounds of the men behind them grew quieter, so Jaskier risked a glance back. They were further away, thanks to Geralt’s speed and twisting path, but they were also angrier. And angry was almost just as dangerous as too-close.

“Geralt!” He said.

Geralt grunted and took another sharp turn, nearly accidentally running Jaskier into a wall in the process.

Only now they were in a dark, spooky, dead-end alley with no escape.

“Shit,” Jaskier hissed.

The footsteps were growing nearer again, and not even Geralt seemed to know what to do, now. Seeing no other solution, Jaskier dragged them deeper into the alley, trying to hide in the shadows. He backed himself up against the furthest wall and pulled Geralt in front of his body, hoping his dark armor and cloak would hide Jaskier’s colorful fashion sense. He quickly pulled Geralt’s cloak over his head to hide his blinding hair.

“They’re going to see us,” Geralt grumbled, moving in closer and practically pinning Jaskier to the wall as he glanced over his shoulder. “It’s only dusk. Shadows only do so much.”

“Well, what do we do, then?” Jaskier hissed.

Geralt just gave him a look. Practically his version of a shrug, if Jaskier interpreted it right, and Jaskier prided himself in being rather fluent in Geralt, at this point.

The footsteps were too close, now, and Jaskier wasn’t keen on dying today. He was even less keen on risking Geralt having to injure or maim or kill humans because Jaskier fucked up.

So he followed his instincts and did the only thing he could think of doing.

Which, admittedly, was a rather stupid plan.

But Jaskier gripped Geralt by the hood of his cloak and dragged him in close. Geralt’s eyes widened just barely in surprise, but he had no time to protest or react before Jaskier was pulling him into a sloppy, bruising kiss that tasted like the blood that spattered Geralt’s body.

Oh, please forgive me for this, Jaskier prayed as their teeth clashed.

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and hoped beyond hope that the kiss looked real from the outside, like two lovers stealing a moment away from prying eyes. Really, he knew it was just an uncomfortable press of lips, and he was too chickenshit to make it anything else because he’d already caught feelings for the emotionally constipated idiot, he didn’t need to make them worse.

But apparently Geralt didn’t get the memo.

Still maintaining the kiss, Geralt gently took Jaskier’s hands in his own and pulled them off his hood so he could pull back slightly, softening the kiss. Jaskier made a soft, questioning noise, but relaxed against the wall and let Geralt lean into him, truly pinning him against the stone, now. 

Geralt dropped his hands once he relaxed, and they instinctively moved to touch him once more. One slid under his cloak to grip Geralt’s waist, cursing the armor blocking his touch and tugging the man into him. The other went up to thread into his hair, barely being aware enough to not knock the hood back off his head.

Jaskier angled his head a bit more, truly giving up, now. The barely-perceptible sigh that came from Geralt at the action, only detected because Jaskier felt the stream of air leave Geralt’s nose against his cheek, made something inside him melt. If his feelings got worse after this, then his feelings got worse after this. He wasn’t going to get a chance like this, a chance to kiss Geralt, again, so he might as well get the most out of it.

So Jaskier started putting his all into the kiss, all the tips and tricks he learned over the years with various lovers. He felt Geralt’s hands finally meet his body, one slithering around his back to arch him into Geralt, the other gripping his hip gently.

And the thing was… Jaskier didn’t expect Geralt to be so gentle in his… affections. The Geralt Jaskier knew yes, certainly had a soft side, but he was aggressive and crass and, frankly, rather rude. Geralt seemed like the kind of lover to come in with fire and heat, the kind of lover who would ravish his partner, to leave them bruised and breathless and gasping for more.

But Geralt was soft and gentle. His grip wasn’t bruising, like Jaskier expected, and neither were his kisses. He wasn’t gripping Jaskier’s clothes so tightly he worried they ripped, in fact, it was nearly feather-light, allowing Jaskier to pull away the moment he chose to.

But Jaskier certainly wasn’t going to choose to do so any time soon, if he could help it.

He opened his legs and tried to hook one of his ankles around Geralt’s to drag him closer. Geralt resisted for only a moment before he gave in and slid a thigh between Jaskier’s legs, leaning into him even more.

Jaskier groaned into Geralt’s mouth and decided fuck the hood, flipping it off to get both of his hands into Geralt’s hair, despite how flithy it was. Geralt hummed and pulled back. Jaskier made a disappointed noise at the loss of contact, but Geralt’s lips almost immediately attached to his neck and the noise melted into one of pleasure.

Geralt’s lips pecked and nibbled and sucked gently, and Jaskier sighed and tilted his head back to give Geralt more room. Geralt was just starting to pull his chemise lower to get to his chest when--

“Damn bard,” someone outside the alley hissed. “We lost him.”

“Forget it,” another voice replied. “He’s not worth our time.”

Geralt slowly pulled back and Jaskier mourned the loss of heat, frowning. Geralt looked at him thoughtfully and reached out with a thumb to brush something off his jaw. Flakes of the blood that was drying and crusting all over Geralt’s face and clothes.

“You could use a bath,” Jaskier said, mouth suddenly dry despite the fact that he’d just had Geralt’s very moist tongue in it moments ago.

“Hm,” Geralt said, looking Jaskier up and down. “We could use a bath.”

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat.

He didn’t dare say another word, for once. He simply dragged Geralt off, trying to ignore how the witcher just radiated smugness, and marched straight toward the nearest inn.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t need anymore “try and get over the witcher you’re in love with” binges after today.

[kdtheghostwriter]

SNK #128 - Seeing Shadows

That’s bad, right?

There were some semantic debates regarding what exactly Hange meant when they said, “Humanity is out of time!” I think it’s clear now that humanity has no more time for them to be indecisive. Eren is on the march, and even if he settles for destroying everything on the Marley continent, that’s a massive loss of civilization and one you simply can’t live with if you think of yourself as a hero. The look on their faces tells the story. It’s no longer about saving the world; it’s about saving what’s left.

How much is left depends on how quickly they move, but it’s not as easy as mounting up the troops. Eren and his Colossal Army are across the ocean now. They’ve had at least one full day to march and probably more since the previous chapter’s events around the campfire. Think about how long it takes for a plane to cross an ocean. Not a full day. Their best bet is commandeering Miss Kiyomi’s special aircraft powered by the mysterious Iceburst Stone. Before they do that, we have to pause for another episode of the worst show in the world: This Floching Guy.

As much I have advocated for Eren to be accepted as the new villain – praising Isayama for turning the Face/Heel dichotomy upside down as it pertains to Reiner – those two, even in their most vile moments, still have their fans. There is no guesswork with Floch Forster. He’s predatory, conniving, authoritarian and mean-spirited. Above all of that, he’s a cocky little shit in a way that even Kenny Ackerman would have scoffed at. He’s the antagonist to the characters we’ve followed for ten years now, but in his own mind they brazenly oppose him, which is where the title of this chapter ‘Traitor’ becomes important.

 For the last four years, Eldia has been ruled by deft slight of hand. In spirit, Historia Reiss, the rightful heir to the throne, has reclaimed her birthright. In reality, she retired to run an orphanage while the three branches of military have taken control of the government and all proceedings. Eren’s mission to Liberio as well as the counterattack from Marley’s Warrior Unit caused a vacuum to appear that was quickly occupied by the Jaegerist Faction. They now control the government and in extension all facets of Paradisian society. So what do you call a group of AWOL soldiers that are conspiring to sabotage your one method of security?

Traitors. Villains. Monsters.

They’re killing your friends and attacking your home. They’ve infiltrated your ranks and betrayed your trust. Thousands of innocent people dead just for the sake of completing their mission.

This week I learned that many people viewed Bertolt’s death as karmic in some way. I never saw it like that at all. His death at Armin’s hands was a necessary evil. Necessary certainly, but it was evil. It doesn’t make the 104th evil for carrying out the deed. It just happened to be the most brutal death in the series even if it wasn’t the most graphic. Bert is left defenseless as his powers are forcibly taken from him. He calls for his former comrades only to realize none of them will help. Then he calls for Reiner, his best friend who barely escaped with his own life. He dies a lonely, agonizing death.

“Who the hell wants to kill innocent people?!”

Who knows how long this question has been haunting Armin’s waking thoughts? There is evidence to suggest that the once bold Survey Corps veteran who was willing to sacrifice his life to help Eren take down the Colossal has been hampered by his successor’s timid nature. Ever since he acquired his powers, he’s always attempted to seek non-violent resolution. I don’t see this as simple naivety.

If you were given a power as destructive as his, where you are capable of destroying a town by simply calling upon it, why would you ever use it? Why would you ever want to? I grow uncomfortable with the amount of voices in the fandom concern trolling the 104th and their refusal to spill the blood of their neighbors. They’ve fought alongside or trained with most of these people. Why should they be expected to kill them like nameless drones? Even if it is necessary, why are they not allowed to mourn the choice?

Characters like these that we’ve known from almost the beginning. They know nothing of the outside world other than it’s filled with people that want them dead. Eren Jaeger is their best chance at keeping their society alive and these people they lived and fought and suffered with want to impede that and doom them. Samuel and Daz are soldiers, too. Forget for a moment that they’re opposing the main characters. Why would they let this happen?

 I digress, though. This point is more about Bert and his exit from the story. It came at the end of a fierce battle that saw the SC expend all of their resources and most of their man power. The fact that they came away with even one shifter’s power is a small miracle. The characters can be excused then for watching, unfeeling, as their former teammate is eaten alive. Now the shoe is on the other foot. Armin has been mortally wounded and the one vehicle that can get them to Marley in time is about to be destroyed. Before Daz can do this, he is stopped by Armin who is delirious but regenerating. Before he can deal the fatal blow, Connie wrestles the gun away from Samuel and shoots them both.

The mission continues.

One could say that it’s overkill perhaps. How many times must the 104th learn the hard lesson? Even Annie made reference to the fact that the Warriors plan was being criticized with no alternative. If they spot them, the mission fails. If the ship is blown, the mission fails. If they Azumabito clan is destroyed, the mission fails. All of these facts are true and the current best way to keep any of that from happening is to fight and kill the Jaegerists. It’s remarkably easy to say, but then they are the ones who have to live with choices made.

 No one should ever have to “get used to” the idea of killing…well anyone but especially not people you partnered with. Bert’s inclusion in this moment was no accident. It isn’t just because Armin inherited his mental likeness. This is the closest they have come to understanding the impossible position he was forced into four long years ago. Only this time, it’s Samuel who is scared and confused.

You can disagree with Samuel’s point of view but what Connie does next is by definition an act of treason. He shoots two members of his own combat unit and defies a direct order from a commanding officer. We know that the commanding officer is a sociopath and we know that following orders means being an accessory to genocide. But that genocide is the only thing keeping that island alive. That island has been the only home Samuel and Daz have ever known. They deserve as much as anyone, an explanation instead of a bullet to the face. But this is what happens isn’t it?

I love Metal Gear Solid for a number of reasons, but chief above them is the series protagonist, Solid Snake. In the flagship game, he is introduced to us as a super soldier engineered for battle that is pulled out of retirement to thwart his twin brother’s plans of nuclear destruction. This game is one of the few of its kind that can be completed without killing a single enemy. You are rewarded for your stealth. Because, you see, Snake the character is a pacifist at heart. He doesn’t want to do this, but he’s the only one who can. It’s a solo mission, so running and gunning almost always fails and if you kill too many people, the action hero main character becomes sick.

You see, because, these choices aren’t made lightly. They ripple and they matter. The 104th kids aren’t acting high and mighty, lording their moral values over the heads of those that betrayed them. They genuinely hate doing this. From your mouth you say, “We have to save the world,” but when you arrive you are told, “We have to kill these people.” For once they would like to preserve peace without additional death and I don’t think they should be scolded for that wish.

  Stray Thoughts

- Wasn’t all that impressed by Magath’s little speech, especially considering what came before it. It’s a change of heart, yes, but not from a genuine place. When faced with the reality of his homeland being flattened, and the futility of his current position, he immediately goes back to torture. Yelena is callous in her own right but she did nothing to warrant the violence. He’s lashing out and I don’t shed tears for him.

- Onyankapon on the other hand. What a guy. He resets the joint in Yelena’s arm and crafts a splint to keep it in place. He has no powers, but you would want this guy on your team during the end of the world.

- Reiner finally puts the pieces together here. “I’m just like you,” Eren says and like Eren, Reiner moves to protect his former teammates from making this impossible choice. It’s a noble gesture and one I respect. There’s no going back for him. He has far too much blood on his hands. That he recognizes that is a strong moment for the character.

- Armin and Connie’s plan wasn’t a bad one. If nothing else, it bought time enough for Annie and Reiner to get into position. If they had attacked outright, the plane likely would have been destroyed. Some people are frustrated with them but honestly, go read Berserk if that’s the case.

- East Sea Gang rise up! Mikasa in combat is still an absolute treat. And Floch gives us an example of this faction’s greatest flaw. You know; besides the nationalist framework they are founded upon. Floch is the most experienced soldier they have and when Floch Forster is your best fighter, your team sucks. Mikasa Ackerman was worth 100 soldiers as rookie. As an adult soldier, she is easily worth two Jaegerist groups put together. Kiyomi is clearly capable, but she also took advantage of Floch’s arrogance in the moment.

- Credit to Reiner and Annie for hitting their cue. I wondered what it would be like having them in this group but it seems like for the purposes it should work.

[skaterboybowen]

Just for a moment (a redky oneshot)

I’m not sure how many redky warriors there are on tumblr but I’ll leave this here anyway ! Sorry for the lack of a ‘read more’ option, I’m posting this on mobile

~

There were a lot of thoughts he would never share with the world, thoughts that would remain buried into the foreseeable future. Admittedly, he said that about a lot of things. His singing voice for example, which no one but his shower head would ever hear. He’d never share his secret love for romantic comedies either, or how much he cried at them.

None of this however, could compare to the alarm that filled him whenever particular thoughts would occasionally bubble up to the surface, no matter how hard he tried to forcibly push them back down.

They appeared on quiet nights, when he was playing a video game, and there was nothing but pale light from the TV illuminating Ricky’s face. For a moment, a second, nothing more, he couldn’t help but think his friend looked....well...

Beautiful.

Big Red didn’t use that word to describe people often. But on that particular night, he thought Ricky deserved it. He always did, but there was nothing shocking about that, surely. Anyone could notice that about Ricky. Nini certainly did, among others. It was normal, he told himself, as he shook himself out of it and returned to his video game.

Normal. It was Normal.

Sometimes he would see Ricky with Nini, and something would twist inside of him. Something heavy, something he couldn’t pinpoint. Something that wanted him to move forward and break them up somehow, which was totally insane, because Ricky liked Nini and Ricky was happy. Which meant he should be happy for him.

Happy. Happy. You’re Happy!

Nothing made the feeling go away. Nothing made the thoughts go away. Nothing made the what-ifs go way.

So what if, for a fleeting moment, he’d wished he were in Nini’s place?

What if, for a fleeting moment, he wished he could be the one to make Ricky smile like that?

Sometimes, when Ricky was sat opposite him at an ice cream parlour, eyes alight with laughter, a thought would appear in his head that was so outrageous he was certain the wince that twisted across his face must’ve been obvious. Ricky didn’t comment on it, although his features smoothed out with shock for a moment, and he looked as though he was on the verge of saying something.

But he didn’t.

And for the entirety of that afternoon, that outrageous, fantastical, world-ending, thought continued to swirl about in his head.

Given the chance, he really, really wouldn’t mind kissing Ricky.

‘Wouldn’t mind’ was certainly an understatement, but it was an understatement that was necessary for Big Red, because there was no way he really wanted to kiss his best friend.

Right?

Now here he was. It was the morning of opening night, and he was entering his room, and his chest was swelling with a feeling so light he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. Ricky was sat on the bed, his guitar rested on his lap, and immediately hopeful what-ifs began to fill Big Red’s head.

“You’re late,” said Ricky with a slight huff, and Big Red’s smile widened slightly.

“We finished painting the sets like twenty minutes ago,” he defended as he approached the bed, “what’s the big emergency?”

“I wanna play you something. Just...promise me you won’t laugh?”

Big Red responded quickly, tiny, obnoxious butterflies beginning to swarm his stomach.

“I have no control over when I laugh, Ricky,” he said, to which Ricky gave a scoff.

“Okay. Here goes.”

He sucked in a deep breath. Big Red subconsciously did the same.

“I, fell in love,”

He swore his heart skipped a beat at those words, more what-ifs beginning to fill his head. Then, Ricky continued, and Big Red felt as though his stomach was dropped from the peak of a tall building, right into ice.

“With the only girl who knows what I’m about,”

Ricky didn’t emphasise the word ‘girl’ but it echoed in Big Red’s mind regardless, over and over like it was some sort of mantra.

“Wait, I’m gonna stop you right there,” he said, half because he really didn’t want to hear the rest and half because he had several questions as to who exactly the song was about.

“Can I at least do the first verse?” Ricky asked, and Big Red caved immediately. He seemed to do that a lot when it came to Ricky.

“Sure.”

He settled down on the seat opposite Ricky, managing the smallest of smiles.

“After all is said and done I can’t, just pretend I’m moving on, is it just a part we’re playing? Because it don’t feel like we’re faking—“

Big Red knew. Of course he did. It was about Nini, because Ricky liked her and Ricky almost kissed her and he would never be Nini. Those lyrics would never be for him, and dreaming wouldn’t bring him any further away from that fact. It would always be for Nini.

But he asked the question anyway. Because he needed to say something to interrupt the flow of lyrics, beautiful, painful, and never, ever about him. He almost felt slightly pathetic.

“Can I talk now?”

Ricky pursed his lips as he stopped the song again. Big Red felt something rising up in his throat that felt awfully like guilt.

“So this is for Gina? I thought she moved away.”

“She did. The day after she missed tech rehearsal. It—it all happened so fast.”

“Okay...” Big Red’s throat was beginning to feel tight all of a sudden.

“The song is for Nini...like an opening night thing...Nini and I almost kissed the other day.”

“Wait... what?” he asked, because what else could he do?

He knew that already. He’d seen it in the way they’d separated so quickly, in the way Ricky’s smile had been so forced. He knew. In fact, he knew a lot of things he pretended not to. Sometimes it was easier that way.

And so, Ricky sang the rest of the song. Big Red sat there, not interrupting once, simply trying to keep everything together like he always managed to do. The strings he usually kept in place so well we’re beginning to unravel, with each line Ricky sang, voice soft as it blended with the notes of his guitar. The smile was evident in his singing too, painted across his face, and Big Red’s heart broke a little more.

Ricky was happy. He could never, ever interfere with that.

When we’re underneath the lights, my heart’s no longer broken, for a moment

Just for a moment

Big Red thought of the soft glow from his TV, the late movies, the late night video games. He thought of Ricky’s face lit up by the light, lit up by a smile, he thought of the way everything else would melt away.

When we’re singing side by side, there’s so much left unspoken, for a moment

Just for a moment

He thought all of the times he’d considered, just for a moment, telling Ricky about his feelings. It was always fleeting, the feeling always passed. He supposed the words would forever be caught in his throat, waiting to escape.

A moment in love

He thought of all the moments that had lead him to where he was now; all of the realisations, the thoughts, the late nights, the tears, the guilt, the why hims and the what-ifs.

Ricky would never know about them. He would never sing this song to him without having someone else in mind. He would go his whole life without knowing that Big Red was stupidly and utterly in love with him.

And maybe it was better that way. Maybe those thoughts would always be locked up and contained within fleeting moments, fleeting feelings, fleeting realisations.

Maybe, just maybe, Big Red could learn to live with that.

[rosethornewrites]

Fic: Morass

Relationship: Zelgadis Greywords/Xellos

Characters: Zelgadis Greywords, Xellos

Additional Tags: Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Natural Disasters, Bathing/Washing

Summary: Zel's travels are interrupted when he gets stuck in an unnatural natural disaster.

AO3 link

---------

The peace of the mountain that loomed above the foothills where Zelgadis was hiking was broken by a rumble that shook the land so hard that at first he wondered if it was a volcanic eruption. He hadn’t thought this was a volcano, and there was no smoke, though it was rumored to have an abandoned temple beside a reservoir at the top—his goal—so it could be. He knew some cultures had once worshipped the fire gods they thought resided within volcanoes.

The noise gave him just enough warning to Raywing into the air, right before a massive mudslide hit; he couldn’t understand what had caused it, as there hadn’t been rain in the area. He didn’t have time to find out—he didn’t get high enough in time. The remains of a massive tree, propelled into the air by the seething mass of debris, grazed him, its jagged broken branches scraping painfully against his chest. He was sent careening, the spell broken.

Downward. Right into the earthen maelstrom, and it sucked him under.

Desperate, he managed to cast Windy Shield, the only spell he could think of strong enough to shield him. But debris and mud were trapped inside with him, whirling due to the spell, and Zel couldn’t break through the tumble of rock and mud beyond his shield. All he could do was fight to survive. Keeping the concentration for the spell wasn’t easy, the mud blinding and deafening him, coating his skin and every crevice, making it nearly impossible to even breathe, but he knew without it, he’d be crushed by the sheer force of the moving earth, stone skin or no.

As he was swept along, Zelgadis lost all sense of direction, the force of the slide buffeting him. Time became meaningless as mud coated his throat, leaving him desperately rasping for breath even as each wheeze brought in more. He could sense larger pieces of debris smashing against the shield, threatening to overwhelm it, and the magical cost of the spell was a fast drain on his reserves.

The shaman wasn’t sure he could hold out, barely maintaining enough concentration—one bad hit could leave him crushed by a boulder, buried permanently in a grave no one would ever find. The thought was terrifying, and he fought against panic.

Just as he thought he might lose the battle to keep the spell going, the movement of the earth surrounding him changed, slowly grinding down to an oozing, shuddering halt, leaving him trapped beneath the surface.

His only chance of getting out was casting Raywing again, but only if he could determine which way was up. A wrong guess would leave him deeper in the mud, and with his strength flagging and magical capacity pressed to the limit, he wouldn’t get a second one.

Gathering his wits, Zelgadis concentrated, forcing the Windy Shield surrounding him to push outward, hoping it would be enough. After an agonizing stretch of seconds, a hint of fresh air reached him… wafting from his feet. He let his spell dissipate and quickly cast Raywing in the split second before the muck could completely engulf him, propelling himself out and away from the mudslide blindly, unable to wipe the mud from his eyes with coated hands. He was fortunate not to hit anything. It took several to find dry land by checking whether the earth held beneath him.

The spell sputtered out, his magic burned out, and all he could do was collapse, coughing up mud, to his hands and knees. The taste of earth was joined with the taste of his own blood as he hacked the debris from his windpipe. What little strength he had left him, adrenaline spent. A wave of pain swept him into unconsciousness.

Zelgadis came to with a jolt. He was still blind and deaf, his eyes caked with mud, his ears full of it—and, he realized, he couldn’t even smell; it had apparently even invaded his nostrils. But he could sense someone or something was near him. He could barely move, his limbs lethargic with pain, with the mud starting to dry and solidify. He was helpless to defend himself from a possible foe.

His head was lifted slightly, and water trickled into his mouth—a person, then? He gulped at it, cool and clean, removing the remnants of filth from his taste buds. The water stopped too soon and he tried to ask for more, unable to do much more, unable to tell if he had even managed intelligible words.

Then his stomach roiled, and whoever it was pushed him to his side just before he learned he’d swallowed mud as well when his stomach forcibly rejected it. The acid burned, his throat already sore and damaged. The heaving seemed to go on forever until his stomach was finally satisfied.

Zelgadis was almost ready to succumb to exhaustion, until the impossible happened—a voice in his ear, whispering.

“You do get into the most interesting trouble, Zelgadis-san.”

Of course it had to be Xellos. He wanted to be relieved, but the Mazoku was generally trouble. Xellos could decide to help him, or could make things worse. Or both.

Zelgadis tried to ask Xellos how he could hear him, but only managed the first word. It was strange to only know from the vibrations of his own vocal cords whether he was speaking.

“How did I find you? Hm, well, I’m a bit… attuned to you, so when Lina-san’s Dragon Slave burst the reservoir at the top of the mountain, I sensed your distress. You’re rather lucky you were on this side of the mountain, really. The other side is even worse. She certainly causes a lot of damage!” The Mazoku even managed to sound gleeful in a facsimile of a voice.

That wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it explained how the mudslide had occurred. He doubted the temple he was seeking had survived Lina, which meant his quest for whatever lore it might contain was over. He hadn’t realized she was in the area—he had parted ways with the others, and had been travelling alone for the last several months.

He also didn’t know what Xellos meant by ‘attuned,’ but wasn’t sure he wanted to.

But Xellos wasn’t done. “Or did you mean how can you hear me? It’s rather simple to use vibrations. Despite the mud, your eardrums are undamaged.”

That was a relief; he probably had enough other injuries to worry about.

“Really, I’m surprised you managed to get out of danger yourself. Anyone else would have perished, though it took all your magical capacity and energy to survive. You are rather helpless right now, and with that thick layer of quickly-drying muck encasing you, by the time you are able to help yourself you might have even more difficulty.”

Zelgadis wanted to prove him wrong, and tried. He tried to move, and found that not only was it difficult due to exhaustion, but the mud was adding resistance. Judging by pressing his thumb and forefinger together, there was at least a centimeter of mud coating him, perhaps more in different places.

And magic… he knew he was spent. The Raywing had barely held together long enough to find a place to land.

Even breathing was difficult, and he was sure he had breathed in more than he’d managed to cough up. He may have survived, but being helpless, particularly with Xellos around, wasn’t healthy.

But Xellos wasn’t done. “Fortunately, I’m quite willing to help you, Zelgadis-san.”

The shaman knew better than to trust that—Xellos’ idea of help, more often than not wasn’t at all. The Mazoku generally had an ulterior motive, and Zel couldn’t even defend himself this time. Time had taught him wariness.

“So untrusting.” How he managed to get the inflection of mock hurt in his voice through eardrum vibrations, Zelgadis had no idea. “I can at least clean you up a bit. Regardless, you’re in no position to refuse.”

That was hardly something that needed to be pointed out, but was nonetheless frustrating. Realistically, even at full strength Zel knew that he wouldn’t be in a position to refuse a being as powerful as Xellos—something he tried very hard not to think about most of the time. He couldn’t help also being curious as to what would lead Xellos to decide to help him at this particular time, though he was also certain he wouldn’t like the answer.

He decided to ask anyway, hoping he managed the ‘why’ through his pained throat.

“Well, why not?”

A fantastic non-answer, but at least it wasn’t a ‘secret.’ That usually implied weird Mazoku plots. Regardless, Zelgadis didn’t trust his intentions.

With that he felt his body leave the ground, movement through the air—quicker than Raywing, unless his senses were lying—before he was dropped into water. For a moment he panicked, until he realized he wasn’t sliding fully underwater; it stopped at his chest, and he was seated against what felt like a riverbank of some sort, with a gentle current sliding across his body. A stream, perhaps?

“Not all of this is mud, unfortunately. If allowed to dry, you’d be in a bit of trouble. Perhaps pursuing a new career as a garden statue?”

Zelgadis wished he could glare, since that was the most of a reaction he’d be able to manage. He worked his fingers together, the layers of mud slowly thinning.

He was suddenly pulled off balance as Xellos pulled off one of his boots, then the other. He almost slipped under the water, but the Mazoku steadied him.

“What are you doing?” he managed to rasp.

“Your clothing is coated, inside and out,” Xellos answered simply.

Zel sensed his sudden proximity and flinched, but the priest only unclasped his cloak and peeled it and his pack away. Literally peeled, as the fabric stuck to him slightly, proving Xellos’ point. The burden of his pack lifted with it.

His fingers were at least partly clear of mud, and he brought his hands up with some difficulty, fighting against exhaustion to try scraping away the mud covering his eyes. He managed to smear some of it away, but not enough to open them. Even that much movement hurt, but he tried again, managing to open one eye. But he had to close it against the glare of the sun on the water, the world too bright.

Xellos helpfully wiped more from his face, getting enough off that his other eye was free. Zelgadis squinted, trying to let his eyes adjust, not fighting when the Mazoku grabbed his hands, one at a time, and peeled his fingerless gloves off.

“I admit I’m surprised you were caught in that mudslide in the first place.”

It was strange to see Xellos, who didn’t bother with the facade of talking, hearing his voice without seeing him speak. The words took a moment to sink in, and he remembered getting hit.

“Tree hit me.”

He brought a hand to his chest, remembering the pain, and found holes in the fabric of his shirt, one that stretched across his chest. Zel peered down, but could only see mud and debris clinging to the skin underneath; he couldn’t tell if it had broken the skin.

That was, until the Mazoku reached forward and pulled at a piece of debris, and Zelgadis hissed in pain. Blood joined the murky water. It was a piece of branch imbedded in his skin. The world spun a little, and when it stopped he found himself shirtless, Xellos examining the area of the wound.

“Not life-threatening,” he said with a sort of mocking cheer. “But probably uncomfortable. And with all that muck in the wound it could become an issue.”

Dark spots were obscuring his vision, and each shallow breath seemed to try to suck his awareness away with it. The shaman knew he was on his way to unconsciousness, but he struggled against it anyway, not certain whether to trust Xellos.

The Mazoku’s face appeared in his swimming vision. Zel could hear him, or at least sensed the vibrations, but for a moment they made no sense to him. Sense returned to him in time to comprehend the last of it.

“—won’t do anything untoward, Zelgadis-san.”

His mind groped for meaning, finding it with difficulty. Zel hoped his guess at the beginning of the sentence was right. His tenuous hold on consciousness slipped, and Xellos’ face faded into darkness.

Zelgadis had snatches of awareness, of water rushing around him, of gentle hands, a soft voice. When consciousness returned, he was warm, no longer in the water, and he could feel the muck that had encased him was gone. He was surprised to be able to feel its absence, but apparently even his stone skin could feel suffocated.

Despite that, his limbs felt like lead, his energy sapped. The sound of a nearby river permeated his hazy awareness, and he realized breathing came slightly easier, his nose clear of mud as well. His lungs still ached and he couldn’t take in a lot of air, but it would take time for his body to handle whatever he’d breathed in, assuming it could and he wouldn’t have to cough it up.

This would be a new test of its healing capabilities, Zelgadis realized bitterly, and he would probably keep finding ways to test it, with his luck.

When he tried to open his eyes, he had to close them against the glare of the sun—that was why he felt warm, he realized. The sun’s rays and warmth had seeped through his stone skin.

He flinched when something heavy draped across him, opening his eyes to find Xellos peering at him, his face too close, his eyes partly open and revealing his true nature. Zelgadis felt pinned, like an insect at the mercy of an entomologist.

“Ah, good. You’re conscious. You certainly took a beating, Zelgadis-san. Cracked ribs, some internal injuries. I don’t suppose you have enough magic for a healing spell?”

Zelgadis was too exhausted to even shake his head. “Burned out,” he murmured.

“Of course.” Xellos sighed, drawing back a bit. “Perhaps your natural healing abilities will handle it. For the moment, you’re in no danger.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted an expansion on ‘for the moment;’ he couldn’t do anything about it anyway.

“Why—”

His voice broke, and it was suddenly hard to breathe through the coughing and fire in his chest. Zel couldn’t even hiss in pain when he was pulled into a sitting position, but after a minute the coughing eased. Something touched his lips, water trickling in, and it helped clear the muddy taste that had invaded his mouth again.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked when he had caught his breath. It was unsettling to have a creature like Xellos helping him through a coughing fit, of all things.

Xellos tilted his head, easing him back to the grass. “Doing what?”

“Helping me. Isn’t this beneath you?”

Part of him expected to be told it was a secret, for this to be the prelude to Mazoku manipulation.

Instead, Xellos frowned slightly. “Well… It would be a bit disappointing if you were to die in such an ignoble way, I suppose. As for the other, perhaps should take you to Lina-san… though she may not be happy to see me! Or you, given that she is something of a prude and you’re naked.”

Zelgadis had managed not to notice that in the time he’d been conscious, and the exposure added another layer of helplessness, one he felt in the pit of his stomach like lead. He was surprised when Xellos stood and removed his mantle, draping it over him like a blanket—even more by the fact that he could feel the fabric draped across his skin more than he could even feel the grass at his back. Faux fabric, he realized. He tried very hard not to think about that.

“Although, you’re a bit of a prude yourself,” the Mazoku chided lightly.

Zel suddenly remembered his earlier comment about Lina, about her causing the mudslide.

“Lina cast Dragon Slave?”

Xellos crouched next to him. “Ah, yes. I did mention that, didn’t I?”

“Why?”

It was a bit more diplomatic than asking what Xellos had done, and easier for him to say. His throat and chest still hurt, exacerbated by the coughing fit, each breath painful, lending credence to Xellos’ theory he’d cracked a rib.

Xellos rubbed his head, at least feigning a sheepish look. “Ah, well, you see… It seems the temple atop that mountain was infested by giant slugs! There’s a species native to this area, you know.”

Zelgadis gaped at him for a moment; perhaps, had he not been caught in the aftermath, he would have found it mildly amusing, but he rather doubted it. The damage this prank had done was on a different level than most of the others the Mazoku had pulled. He’d nearly died in the unintentional aftermath of a prank; it felt like a bizarre metaphor for his life. An ignoble way to die, certainly.

“You’re going to kill me someday,” he muttered finally. “And it won’t even be on purpose.”

Xellos turned away, gazing off into the distance. Zel could’ve sworn he moved slightly before that, almost a flinch. Probably a trick of the light and his exhaustion.

“That is not my intention, Zelgadis-san.”

“That’s the point.”

A wave of fatigue crashed through him, and he couldn’t keep his eyes open. What was left of his adrenaline was long gone, the ordeal and his injuries catching up with him. The steady sound of the river seemed to fade in and out with each breath he took. Zel tried to fight it, though he knew it was a losing proposition.

He felt the cloak being adjusted more snugly around him. A hand touched his cheek, and he could feel it as though his skin wasn’t stone.

“Rest, Zelgadis-san. I already promised I won’t do anything untoward.”

The hand didn’t move, just resting against his face, almost a comfort. And though Zelgadis didn’t trust the Mazoku… he didn’t distrust him now. He stopped fighting, let his awareness fade.

Much later, he woke to the early morning sunlight trickling through a canopy of trees that towered above him. Zelgadis found himself in an old-growth forest beside a well-kept fire. He sat up with minor difficulty, his ribs still pained, confused. Xellos was nowhere to be seen.

Underneath him was a brand new bedroll. Pooled in his lap was a well-made blanket. He realized he was partly dressed, pants made of good quality fabric—even underwear, which was more than a little embarrassing. He hadn’t even stirred. He didn’t have a shirt on, and he found the gashes across his chest had only mostly healed. The shaman could only guess that burning out his magic had slowed his body’s natural healing.

The scent of something cooking caught his attention, and he moved closer to the fire, nearly tripping over boots—also new—and his pack on the way. Near the embers was a pot of stew; just the sight made his stomach growl. He searched through the pack for a bowl and spoon, setting aside what looked like a folded map.

The stew looked hearty, and it would help him recover, giving his body energy to work with. Zel didn’t even care that it was almost too hot, not slowing down until he had tucked in a full bowl and was well through the second. Then he opened the map, and nearly dropped the bowl when he saw the doodles.

A Z to mark where he was, halfway across the continent from where he had been. And symbols from Zelgadis’ personal shorthand, which he’d developed from a mixture of dead languages, on other parts of the map—“demon temple,” “abandoned library,” and the like.

Zel set the bowl aside and fished his journal, discolored from mud, from the pack. He flipped through it, unease shifting to dismay when he found notes throughout. “Already destroyed,” “Not the Claire Bible,” “Very helpful, Zelgadis-san!” next to his notes on rumors of Claire Bible manuscripts. The very ones he’d been on that part of the continent to check out.

At the very end, a longer note. “I quite enjoyed deciphering your code. Well done! Payment enough for my help. In fact, more than enough—so I’ve replaced your damaged equipment and clothing for you. You may appreciate some of the places I've marked on the map.” Followed by a crude chibi doodle of the priest himself.

Zelgadis wanted to scream.

[siderealxmelody]

Reapers

@waywardlightbearer

@nptperfect-indadseyes

@charmed-redemption

@dexilishways

@facethedarkncss

@cobalthavoc

@cheryl1967

@lovetorp

@thevictoryofthepeople

Physiology:

• They can appear in any way they choose, but their natural form is translucent skin with white hair and eyes.

• They are hermaphroditic and can self-fertizle or exchange genetic information with another reaper and have children that way.

• They usually have quadruplets and raise them for the first 100 years letting them feed on the stored souls they have hoarded for them.

• They usually identify as male or female, though sometimes identify as agender.

• They do not form familial bonds or romantic bonds.

• The only bond they form is with their familiar. A being who cleans up the matter after they have sucked the energy from it.

• They have a racial memory - though things come to reapers only when relevant.

Abilities:

• Able to see the fate of an individual.

• Able to feel the emotions of an individual.

• Able to break a soul and remake it into a malicious entity all on it's own.

• Able to sense when individuals are close to death.

• Able to communicate with ghosts.

• Able to astral project.

• Able to harness souls for added power - converting their essence to energy.

Culture:

• Before there was void, or creation there were three energetic beings, two of them called Lovers. The third they called their Other. It is from Other all Reapers trace their origins. A partical of Other broke off to form the first Familar. All familiars trace their lineage to them.

• Their government body is called Gnosis, it loosely governs Reaper-kind. They are four positions. The most coveted one is called Monad. It is through Monad's children that the next four Gnosis are chosen.

• Reapers define themselves on their Willpower. For they cannot truly die. Of their form on earth or other world is destroyed they go back to their homeworld - Necropolis* and slowly gain back their power and form.

• Monad's and their compatriots choose the qualities of the future Gnosis when they ascend to their positions. Usually Reapers who are in line for Gnosis delay having children to make this fair process. As they will not know the qualities their children will exhibit.

• Reapers refer to their older kin who have Faded as Others, in remembrance of the first Other. As it believed that Other slumbers but the body it made for itself is what the Reaper's world is made of.

• They do not care for the petty dealings of the angels, demons, jinn, or humans. They wish to reap souls and take them to their final resting places - that is it.

• This is not to say that they have no wants or ambitions. The things they want or wish for are things only other reapers can give them.

• Some want power, some want reapers to make their own rules and laws and not care for the ones the Lovers set forth for them.

• They trace their roles to the commandment that Other made to the Lovers: "I will unmake and remake all that you both do. I will do it as you state. That is all I wish for. Will you grant me this?" "Yes. We shall."

• The reapers wish to uphold the Other's vow to the Lovers. But they contrary to what the gods think worship the Other or the Lovers. They respect their wisdom - there is a difference.

• Reapers are taught compassion for the souls they reap, though not to dwell on them. If, a soul sparks a deep reaction in a reaper they are taught to sit with it for a certain amount of time - usually a few minutes before they force themselves to move on. If they let the work bog them down it will drown them.

• Reapers are taught to be mindful of their emotions of their thoughts and to time to do other activities - to have hobbies outside of their work.

• Reapers start small, the first thing young reapers learn to do is reap the souls of the earth and animals they work their way up to humans and other races.

• Some reapers specialize on a specific race, they typically keep volumes of notes on the race they choose. Every 100 years those who specialize meet to discuss their tips - any insights they have they give to Master Sheng to out into teachings for the next generation.

• Each reaper is required to have at least one clutch of children = four children.

• Master Sheng is a very well respected teacher among Reaper-Kind, it is thought he learned his knowledge directly from Other many, many, eons ago.

• Reapers are not bound to this one world, there are countless realities, countless universes which have death. Some like to travel and see what else the Lovers have done. Others prefer to stay close to the world they grew up on.

• Familiars were freely given to each reaper child upon entrance into their school. However many have gone without it - now that the Familars are bred and forcibly bound to angels, demons, and humans.

• Familiars have been renamed by humans as Heaven and Hellhounds. They are seen as ferocious beings, before they simply were there to comfort the reaper as much as the soul.

• Reapers are old, older than this universe, than these gods, than the big-bang. Though many of them will be newer born a bit after the big Bang, they still are weary of being dragged into things that don't concern them. To them cosmic questions and cosmic wars are all the same - for the older ones, there is no real surprise anymore.

• As said previously, reapers are made of Willpower. It takes Will to stay on this place, to reform and continue reaping. Those who loose it gradually begin to Fade.

• When a reaper Fades their consciousness does not erase it goes back to Other. And they along with all those who have Faded guide the younger generation on matters specific to reapers.

• Non-reapers are not allowed to their world unless invited, and even then, they must prove themselves to the Others before gaining entry.

• Souls who have a strong Will that persists after death are sometimes asked if they wish to become a reaper - this is a very rare occurrence. But it does happen. Maybe it will happen a dozen or so times in the span of a universe's life. It is an honor to be asked.

• Those who accept will go through the training that a young reaper will go through though the class will be made up of all non-reapers.

• If the Others accept them after their training, a piece of Other will fuse with them and they cease to be whatever race they were before - they are a reaper, and that's what they will always be. Many non-reapers loose their Wills and Fade after the transformation process. It is saddening since they also don't seem to be able to communicate when they have Faded.

• Reaper children take 100 years to mature, as such before having them reapers usually heard souls or go to a Soul Catcher for some specialty souls for their young. At their 100th birthday (when they have the mental and emotion stability of a 10 year of human child) they will given over to the Necropolis to train and ready for their future duties.

• What reapers chose to do with their training after they graduate is at their discretion. It is not something that the Gnosis wishes nor feels the need to keep tabs on.

• Each Gnosis is allowed to chose a new name for themselves. But the name must connect to how they will improve reaper-kind under their reign.

• Periodically when new Gnosis are formed the Others will chose future ones. Though when this is done it is usually from another family. As the Others wish for fresh perspectives on things, and not for things to become stagnant and bureaucratic.

[godsofmonster]

Florida Kilos ≽ V.

Reader x Bangtan- Drug Cartel

Word Count- 8,800

Warnings- drugs, guns, blood, prostitution, violence, abuse, sexual content, betrayal, character deaths, ect.

≽ Links to previous chapters can be found on my masterlist in my bio because Tumblr sucks now! You can also click on the ‘Florida Kilos’ tag!

From the time that I was a little girl, growing up in poverty, I decided that my adulthood would be different. At a young age, I was more sure of myself than most of the people around me. As a result, I made my way down to Florida where I began to both make and deal cocaine- alongside the man of my life. We shared our dreams, our bodies, our business. I was in a drug cartel with responsibilities and a lot of talent. I made dangerous partnerships, million dollar deals, and a lot of money; that is where this story continues.

"Let’s wait.”

The serene look that the promise gave him abruptly dissolved from my sight. His face returned to the scowl that started to become second nature to him. He scoffed, his lips turning into a fake smile, rolling his eyes coldly.

“Wait? For what exactly?” It was like I had profoundly insulted him. His hand threatens to leave mine but I continue to hold on.

“We came here to do a job,” I explained quietly. Advancing toward him, closing the distance between us and having him near. I stretched up to stroke his cheek, “I want to get married in Florida- that’s where we belong.”

Yoongi intensely watched me. As if his eyes were striving to find a conviction in mine. But after a time he gave in with a simple exhalation. He cupped my hand that grazed the hollows of his cheeks. “I guess... whatever you want then.”

A delicate grin settled on my lips, considering the warmth of his touch and drawing him in closer. Our mouths meeting halfway, his tongue dropped over my bottom lip, breathing in deeply as his hand hooked around the spine of my neck. He rolled his mouth forcibly onto mine, causing me to lean back into his grip. I panted as he pulled away and roughly sucked on the supple surface of my neck.

“Yoongi…” I groaned.

“Oh! Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Hoseok suddenly announced as he came through the door unexpectedly.

“Damn it, Hoseok!” Yoongi’s curse bounced off the metal walls. His palm moved to my shoulder, forcing me to step behind him as he walked forward to shield my half-naked body. “Learn to fucking knock.”

“I did!” He objected.

I chuckled as he turned around to face the door and I assume the blood was flushing to his face in embarrassment.

“It’s alright Hobi,” I assured him and Yoongi before reaching for the robe that was hanging off the edge of my suitcase. Slipping the silk material over my shoulders, it's cold touch trailing goosebumps up my arms before tying it tightly around my waist. “What did you need?”

I moved out of Yoongi’s shadow to spot Hoseok still set with his back to me. Yoongi stepping back to take a sit on the corner of the bed while he began to speak.

“Just two things, (Y/n).” He replied rather stiffly. “Well first is that we gathered all the names to the organizations you wanted. There are only four that we need to take care of.”

“That sounds great- you can turn around now, by the way,” I answered looking under the bed for a pair of slippers to put on. “And the second?”

“The second is that I had an idea of how we could make them disappear.” He peered over his shoulder before he turned himself around to face me. “If you like it then maybe you can give me the green light. All it would take is a couple of chainsaws and a lot of -”

Hoseok was abruptly interrupted by the noise of shouting arising from downstairs. The voice bitter and clear as day.

“Are you sure?! Okay- okay. I got it!”

Yoongi and I followed Hobi out of the room, out into the staircase we looked below to Jimin. He stood by one of the white tables, with kilos accumulated upon it, his phone was pressed against his ear and he wore a lost expression.  

“Jimin, what’s going on?” As I made my way down the stairs, Jimin hung up the phone and slammed it down onto the table.

Jimin damned under his sigh and gazed in my direction as the boys followed closely after me. He sighed again,

“Bad news.”

“That's not something I really want to hear right now, Jimin,” I told him, reaching my spot close enough to him. He was making little eye contact, his gaze meeting the floor. “Who was it?”

“A friend- an informant of mine. He called to tell me that...two of our main dealers have disappeared.” The atmosphere in the room thickened with silence.

“People don’t just disappear,” I stated the obvious. Running my hand over my forehead but I let Jimin proceed.

“They were probably taken for information.” He muttered, leaning back against the table with one arm to support himself.

“The question is- by who?” Yoongi mumbled. That was the problem.

I stepped to the side of them, pacing the floor as Jungkook appeared coming from the stairs. I thought to myself as Hoseok filled him in on the disturbing news we had gotten.

“Who do you think did it, boss?” Jungkook said but I simply shook my head. Of course, I had ideas but theories were all they are.

“It could have been the police, after what happened, they definitely have been sticking their noses in,” Hoseok replied, taking a seat on a nearby chair.

“It could also be Alessandro- his men could have been asking around and people are so afraid they could talk,” Jimin added, running his hand through his hair impatiently. “I’m positive about one thing though,- that they're being tortured to get information out of them.”

“How many of our people do we have on the streets?” I asked so that I could begin to calculate the odds that seemed to be turning against us.

“More than twenty, (Y/n) but…” Jimin could barely look up and it took him a moment to speak clearly. “those two moved a lot of product."

It was apparent that Jimin had established a trustworthy connection with the two dealers. He felt responsible and therefore felt guilty. As much as I would have liked to assure him otherwise, I needed to know all the risks we ran before  anything else.

“Of those twenty, how many did you meet with face to face?” In other words- how many of them could rat him out.

“Just those two, they were in charge of distributing the coke to the others.” That didn't make this situation any better.

“What are you thinking of doing, (Y/n)?” Yoongi called out to me while I continued to pace the floor. Everyone but Jimin looked in my direction. “What Jimin said is serious.”

I could feel my scalp throbbing as so many different scenarios came rippling through my head. This wasn’t like the women in Miami, we didn’t have the Kim brothers to connections with the law. The truth of the matter was that there was literally nothing that we could do for them. Nothing that I could do.

“Focus on taking out those other organizations- anyone of them could be behind this.” I paused where I stood. “And if it is the police who has them, we’ll have to show them who they are messing with.”

“What about the Italian?” Jungkook asked.

“I already said that I would take care of him,” I stated, stepping back under the fluorescent lights where they were all stood. “I wanted to take my time with his death but- I will have to speed things up in light of what we know now.”

“When do you want us to start dropping bodies?” Hobi asked standing from his seat.

“Tomorrow- I want them one after another without any mistakes.” They all nodded, except for Jimin, who was still noiseless. “Two days is all you four should need.”

-

The next two days were chaos. On every news channel, every newspaper print, the only words that the wind carried; were how the bodies of New York’s drug leaders were falling. The first to sink was Horacio Zhang; a 42-year-old Chinese man who ran large amounts of cocaine from his territory of Chinatown to the northern parts of Brooklyn. He was found by two of his mistresses in the back room of his restaurant; three bullet wounds in his chest and spread across the floor, covered in Suga cocaine. That same day, only hours apart, the body of Abel Kowalski and two of his gunmen were found in his home in Queens. All killed with bullets in their head execution style and coke spread across the table where they had been drinking. The next day in The Bronx, Calvin Banks was shot dead through the window of his club before opening hours. 'Suga' written in white spray paint on the side of his building. Then late that evening Jake ‘four fingers’ Koch from Staten Island. His throat was slit and his gunmen were shot down in the top floor of his gambling lounge. Two days was all I gave them and they did not let me down. Two days to struck fear in the security of Alessandro Botticelli. So that he would know that I was keeping him for last and he would never see it coming.

-

“You don’t have to do this,” Yoongi continued with the same words for days. I was disregarding him at this point and concentrated on finding my heels. “Let me go with you.”

“I don’t trust- your jealousy is unruly Yoongi.” He groaned, swiftly moving to kick down a chair out of pure bitterness.

“Can you really blame her?” Hoseok chortled off in the corner. He didn't even bother looking our way and proceeded to load the guns with ammunition. Yoongi hardly giving him a sharp eye as Jungkook came trotting down the stairs.  

“I found them!” He announced coming down with the red dagger pumps I had been hunting. He offered his assistance to me in order to get the heels on and deal with Yoongi’s fit.

“I don’t see why you picked Jimin to go with you,” Yoongi murmured under his breathing.

“I didn’t,” I said holding on to Jungkook shoulders as I shoved my foot into the shoe. “I told you already, it was Taehyung’s call.”

Even if Taehyung hadn’t ordered Jimin to be the one to come with me for the job, I still wouldn’t have taken Yoongi. His hatred for Alessandro was reaching a boiling point. I knew the big amount of his rage was projecting from his withdrawals after being clean for the past three days. I could recognize it in the cold sweats he would get the little that he was sleeping. It was the price he had to pay and I had to put up with.

“Where is Jimin anyway?” I asked, noticing it was getting rather late.

“He went upstairs to answer a phone call,” Hobi responded, closing the last of the chambers to the handguns.

I looked up the stairs case, looking past the railings, where the door to his room was shut. He only ever locked himself in his room when he was on the phone with Taehyung. I hoped he wouldn’t come out with more orders. From what Jimin had told me, it sounded like Taehyung had been rediscovering an interest in running his own business. He was ambitious and full of ideas however that began to worry me.

“There is something I want to talk to you all about,” Right now that Jimin wasn’t around. I settled into my second heel and standing upright. “An idea that I’ve had been creating.”

“Another idea?” Yoongi might as well have cut his eyes with that tone. Hobi, on the other hand, was drawn and settled the gun down on the table before walking toward the rest of us without a single sound.

“A new way of exporting cocaine,” I began, tapping Kookie's shoulder to join the others in front of me.

“Don’t you mean importing- as in bringing the paste from Cuba?” He suggested as he walked beside Yoongi and resting his hip against the table.

“No. I’m talking a way to get our merchandise out of the country- to sell it on a whole new continent.”  

“What are you talking about (Y/n)?”  Yoongi declared, his voice dropping to a new level of trouble. He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing and locking on me. “Taehyung has never said anything about dealing overseas.”

“Taehyung- is convinced that he can own the whole entire country,” I spoke hushed, motioning Yoongi to do the same. “But there is no way he can move the product west and take over Mexican cartel territory- it would be suicide.”

“So what are you saying? That we should fuck him over?” Yoongi spoke defensively.  As if I hadn’t been the one who was running the entire show. As if Taehyung was his dearest of friends. If he only knew.  

“Of course not- as long as I stay by his side through his decisions I will try to steer him in the right direction.” None of them knew of the complications that I was facing with Taehyung after he confronted me the day of Jungkook’s birthday. My fear was that Taehyung would stop listening to me over our argument.

“But if something were to happen to me- where I can’t advise him otherwise; I want you guys to know how to cross the product overseas. Whether that means one of you convince Taehyung yourself or you have a way to start dealing cocaine out of the country without him.”

“What do you mean if something were to happen to you? That is why we are here- we look after you.” Jungkook opposed, while Yoongi and Hoseok fell silent.

“Jungkook,” I sighed. “Not everything goes as intended- It is just a precaution. It will ease my mind knowing that we have a backup plan just in case.”

I didn’t have enough time to go into full detail of my design. I told them where they would start and how difficult it will be to begin again. Though, I knew they were smart enough to figure it out without my every instruction. They maintained quiet throughout my plan, listening closely to the brief summary I managed to give them.

“Not until the day comes that he wants to keep expanding and he comes to choice, will we know what to do next. I refuse to let any of you get hurt for a hopeless dream.” The sound of Jimin’s door creaked open. “You cannot say a word about this to Jimin, much less Taehyung.”

We all looked up, seeing Jimin walk out of his bedroom, still scrolling through his phone. He stashed the device in his pocket and look to where we stood downstairs.

“What are you guys talking about?” He questioned after seeing us all huddled together. Everyone’s expressions turned into stone.

“We were waiting for you,” I said walking over to Yoongi and wrapping my arm around his torso. “Yoongi and I wanted to share some exciting news.”

I smiled up at him, gesturing my head for him to speak up. He hesitated for a second, double taking in my direction while he tried to figure out what I was talking about. His face lit up and he cleared his throat before speaking,

“Right- we’re getting married.”  

“What?” They all responded in unison. Though with completely different reactions.

Hoseok jumped over the table and wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s shoulder. His screams of delighted filled his ears and echoed throughout the warehouse. “This is great!”

“When did this happen?” Jungkook asked staring confused.

“Aren’t you happy for us, Kookie?” I grinned and pulled him into a hug but his arm. He took a second to react and hesitated to wrap his arms around me.    

“Well, yeah… if this is what you want.” He muttered barely loud enough for me to hear, his arms hugging me tightly. “Congrats.”

“It’s a weird time to get engaged but great nevertheless!” Hobi continued, bouncing from Yoongi over to me and pulling me up in the air. He spoke over my eruption of giggling, “Yoongi needs to settle down.”

He placed a kiss on my cheek but my laughing came to a halt as I saw Jungkook step silently toward Yoongi. Hobi placing me on the ground as we watched them stare at each other. For a second there was nothing but silence, but then Jungkook sighed and reached his hand out to him.

“Congratulations.” He said calmly. Yoongi not hesitating to except his gesture and we watched them shake hands.

It brought the most genuine smile to my face. Being in the company of the people who have become my family and sharing news that brought us closer together was a feeling that I would not take for granted.

“Well congratulations to you both,” Jimin said a bit carelessly as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. “But maybe we should celebrate after we take care of Alessandro."

“You’re right,” I said stepping from Hobi’s arms. “Are you ready?”

Jimin nodded his head as he pulled his phone from his pocket as a notification ringed. “My informer just texted me- Alessandro just arrived at the bar.”

“Then I guess it’s time.” I looked over to Yoongi pushed some of his hair out of his eyes.

He walked over to grab my coat that I had left hanging on one of the nearby chairs. I fixed the hem of my red shift dress. Yoongi came over as he held the coat open for me to slip into. It was longer than my dress and the black faux far would protect me from the New York breeze.

Jimin walked over to the table were the guns rested, ranked from largest to smallest. Picking out his choice of guns to bring with him. Hobi himself reached for the one he had prepared just for me.

“This should fit in your pocket.” He assured me. An automatic Glock 17. I took the heavy metal into my hand, unlocking the chamber to check how many rounds I had. “You’ll need this too.”

He handed me a black rod silencer from his other hand. I took it and twisted onto the barrel of my gun. Perfect fit. I thanked Hoseok and smiled at him.

“Fuck. I feel like I’m in the Godfather.” Jungkook said taking a seat on one of the chairs. I laughed and walked over to him. “Is the Godfather even a godfather?”

“No. It’s just a term of endearment.” I ran my hand through his hair, it was as soft as always. “A godparent is someone you respect- someone you can look up to.”

He nodded his head slowly, looking up at me and taking my hand in his own.

“Someone like you…” He pressed a kiss onto the back of my hand. “Be careful, Godmother.”

“I will.” I simply laughed and shoved his shoulder.

“I’ll get the car,” Jimin announced.

As he walked off into the far part of the warehouse I returned to Yoongi’s side. Where he stood with a worried face.

“We could be in the lobby of the hotel, in case you need us for back up it wouldn’t-” I wrapped my hands around his shoulder.

“I just need you three to stay here and not leave for any reason. Alessandro’s men will be hunting us after we escape.” He held onto my waist, shaking his head and muttering under his breath. “Hey- I can do this.”

“Just come back alive.” He leaned in to kiss my cheek before I let him go.

“I intend to.”

Yoongi walked me to the front door of the warehouse where Jimin was waiting with his car. He looked up from his phone and waited for me by the passenger door. I thanked him as he opened the door for me, closing it gently once I was settled in.

“Jimin...” Yoongi said before he could go to walk around the other side. “If she isn’t out of that hotel room in one hour, go in there and shoot everything that moves. I need you to bring her back alive.”

“You aren’t the only one- I’ll make sure of it.”

-

The car ride was silent, mildly uncomfortable even. I don’t know what was on Jimin’s mind but I knew what was on mine. Yoongi...Jungkook and Hoseok. Everything I had told them and if they would need to use it. I was sure of my plan but I had a bad feeling that burned in the back of my head. I didn't know how to shake the feeling.

“There is still a chance to change your mind.” Jimin suddenly said, breaking through the silence as he pulled up to a red light. “I can call them and they can come with us in the other car-”

“No, we’re sticking to the plan,” I assured him and secretly myself. I turned to look at him but he looked away when I did. His dirty blond hair was parted to the sides and he wore a white long sleeve. “What did you mean… when you told Yoongi he wasn’t the only one?”

“You caught that, huh?” He stiffened, inhaling deeply and letting out a small laugh. “Of course you did.”

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” I tilted my head at him. The light turned green and he began to drive once again.

“I don’t… trust you.” He said hesitantly licking his full lips.  

“Have I given you any reason not too?” I questioned. Watching his body language carefully.

“No,” He glanced my way. “Not yet at least- but that’s because everything has gone your way so far.”

“So you think I’ll betray you once something doesn’t go my way?” I asked lowering the window of the car, pulling out a cigarette from the carton in my handbag.

“Don’t smoke in my car.” He said making me stop my actions abruptly. I looked at him to find him with smirked to my surprise. Not getting my way, huh? “Betray me? No. Taehyung is who I think you’ll betray.”

Put back the single cigarette in its box, and then in my handbag as he continued to talk. “I know how smart you are and I also know how...naive Taehyung can be.”

“I’m more worried about him betraying me- after what happened.” He laughed again, this time a more humorous laugh than anything else. “How don’t I know that the reason Taehyung made me bring you along,  wasn’t because he wanted you to kill me?”

“Because, like I said, you’re smart. Taehyung is completely and utterly infatuated with you, you know that.” He almost spat the words at me. Annoyed. “He sent me because he knows I’m the best skilled out of everyone else. He sent me to bring you back alive- that’s...what I meant.”

“But why do I hear the jealousy in your voice?” I’ve never really seen Jimin upset or angry, he was always the calmest of everyone. I must really hit a nerve. “Do you have a thing for Taehyung or something? Is that it?”

“What? No!” He argued defensively. “I just don’t understand why everyone has to fall for you... Taehyung, Yoongi, Jungkook- Alessandro, that poor bastard.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep my composure from such an insulting remark. The car fell silent again as I stared out the window and this time I relished in silence after simply stating,

“Men want what they can’t have.”

-

Only when Jimin pulled up the end of the block, like the time before, is when I spoke to him once again.

“The plan continues exactly as we planned. You’ll go to the hotel first and I’ll go into the bar 15 minutes after you.” Jimin set the car in park and nodded his head slowly. “Once you’ve gotten everything ready, standby and wait for the signal.”

“Just one thing?” He says and I stare. “Don’t play with your victim, as soon as you get the chance- kill him.”

“I’ll see how it goes.” I shrugged. He sighed, without any final words, he moved forward to exit the car.

“Wait,”

“I haven’t forgotten…about the two dealers that got taken, ” He closed the door as soon as I spoke, he was looking back at me with much softer eyes. “If Alessandro knows where they are- I’ll get them back.”

He simply nodded his head in understanding, then may his way back to exiting the car. I watched as he walked toward the hotel, his figure becoming smaller by the second. Then he disappeared and I began to count the 15 minutes before I would go in. Before I would be met, face to face, with Alessandro Botticelli once again.

-

I stood in front of the same wooden doors that lead to the downstairs bar. It felt like it had been an eternity since I was last here. Though it had only been three days. The place was surrounded by Italian gunmen, no doubt a result of the other cocaine dealers dropping like flies. I went to open the door but was met by a locked handle.

I peered inside through the cross windows the doors allowed, mostly empty from the little that I could see. A man soon came in my line of sight, Vincent Romano, to be exact. Alessandro’s most dangerous gunman.

He recognized me right away and unlocked the door.

“Well look who it is…” His eyes scanned me from head to toe as he allowed me to step in. “We were sure that you were a ghost- the way that you vanished into the streets… without a trace.”

Another man came up behind him, from the deeper right side of the bar, where Alessandro must be. He landed on his shoulder to whisper something inaudible to me. Vincent shook his head and answered him in Italian. With his order, the man walked back to where I could not see him.

“We looked for you all over New York- Mr. Botticelli’s orders, of course.” He smirked, possibly trying to make conversation with me. Though, it didn’t take long for the other man to come back. He nodded his head at Vincent and he looked back at me. “He’s been waiting for you.”

I followed behind him into the back of the bar. Where the room was darker as there were almost no windows. The room glowing under candlelight.Where Alessandro was revealed to be seated at a table and eight other gunmen in nearby ones. The moment his eyes landed on me, he rose from his table, watching me as I walked in.

“Brava- Bravissima!” He yelled out as he slowly clapped his hands and made his way around the table. I smiled as he came to greet me in front of the table, he took both of my hands in his and leaned in to kiss them. “How are you doing, bella?”

“I knew that we would meet again.” He grinned and pulled out the chair for me. He leads me to take a seat and pushing it closer to the table as I did.

“Destiny, perhaps,” I smirked and he was in front of me in a matter of seconds.  His full lips were parted into a full smile, one that almost made him look innocent. Wrinkles creased around the hazel eyes that stared intensely at me.  

“Leave us.” He announced to his men. They exchanged glances at each other unsure but his voice turned cold quickly. “Out!”

The absence of his men brought ease to my body. I was a little less stiff and I could breathe better. He wore a wine button up shirt, with its sleeves rolled up and the same gold chain from before.

“Look,” He paired his clothing with black pants that he reached into the pocket of, pulling out a white silk fabric from it. “I have kept the memento of your lips for these past couples of days.”

“And I have kept the memory of your gaze.” I hummed as he held up the lipstick stained silk to prove to me. He leaned in, setting the cloth beside his drink.

“You won’t escape from me this time.” His eyes staring deeply at me as if I was an illusion he didn’t want to miss.

“Neither will you.”

“Does that mean…” He glances at the cloth under his elbow. “That tomorrow, I will wake up in the morning to something much more...concrete than this?”

I leaned in resting my chin on the palm of my hand.

“Of that, you can be sure of.” He reached over the small rounded table and touched the back of my hand. Close to grazing my cheek but I moved off my hand the moment his rough skin touched mine. “Can we go somewhere? Where we can be alone?”

“Of course we can.” He was quick to answer as if he had been waiting for me to ask him that. “How does my presidential suite sound?”

“Perfect.”

His men followed us out the door of the bar, all the way up the stairs, as we entered the main lobby of the hotel. His arm was wrapped around my waist as we walked, his much taller frame leading the way.

By this time Jimin should be getting into position and shouldn’t be in the main lobby but I casually scanned the floor of people just in case. There must have been some type of convention being held because the lobby was cluttered with people.

Alessandro spoke to his men in a combination of Italian and English. Repeating to each of them that for absolutely no reason should anyone come and bother him up in the room. My eyes finished scanning the lobby for any sign of trouble-and trouble I found.

Yoongi’s figure stood out to me, standing just a few feet away from us, next to a group of guests. Our eyes locked and it was like the entire room slowed down and became cold. His eyes darted behind, landing on Alessandro who was still talking to his men in the other direction but, who also, still had his arm around my waist and pulled in close to his side. I could see Yoongi’s face drowning in jealousy and rage. His body tightening and he reached into the inside of his blazer. Where he always kept his gun.

All I could do was lightly shake my head, trying to not make it obvious as I continued walking with Alessandro toward the elevators. I mouthed to him the word ‘no’ frantically trying to stop him from approaching us. Him, against twelve armed gunmen, was a chance he would gladly take. He took broad steps close but not close enough for anyone else to notice. My eyes on him were pleading as we entered the elevator. He stood behind and our eye contact broke through the closing doors.

“You have yet to tell me your name?”Alessandro chuckled above my ear causing me to shiver in disgust.

“It’s (Y/n)...” I try to say without showing the repulsion he brings me.

“As expected… così bella.”

The doors opened up to the very top floor of the hotel. A blue and white pattern displayed on the carpet leading us to Alessandro’s presidential suite at the very end of the hall. I stood by his side as he went to unlock the door with his card key. I looked around to see if any of his men had followed us up or were waiting for us. He pushed the door open and allowed me to step inside first.

“Ti piace? Do you like it?” I walked through the small hall that revealed a large living room and bar.

“I like it,” I said as we stepped into the dining area where stood a espresso wooden table under a white carpet. He pulled out a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket that laid on top of it, followed by two glasses. Two large naked windows framed either side of the wall. The heat from the sun had made the bucket of ice melt and condensate its exterior. “It’s the biggest room in the hotel, isn’t it?”

“Of course, a woman like you deserves the finest.” He hands me my glass and I thank him.

He pop opens the bottle, an icy smoke coming from it’s opening before Alessandro takes my glass and fills it. The glass sizzles to the top but soon dies down to reveal only half full. I strolled around the room as he filled his own glass up. I found my way to one of the windows where the view of New York was at its peak.

“The best view this hotel has to offer,” Alessandro notes following in behind me. “But nothing compared to your beauty, (Y/n).”

“Such a romantic.” I laugh setting my glass down the dining table. “Too bad all those bodyguards spoil the moment.”

“They’re necessary.” He insists. Alessandro sets down the whole bottle on the table and takes a drink from his glass.

“Are they? And why is that?” I question turning to look back outside. “To protect you from all the angry women whose hearts you’ve broken?”

“No, no.” He laughs with the glass still pressed to his lips, he takes another drink.

“What?” I smirk, stepping closer to him. “Are you telling me I’m the first woman you bring up here?”

“Absolutely!” He declares and I smile shaking my head.

“I’m not so naive, Alessandro.” I turn my back to him and walk forward. “Who are you trying to protect?”

“Let just say it’s a matter of business.” I reach into the pocket of my fur coat, gripping the gun in my hand.

“Who are you afraid of?” I slip it out.

“Nothing- no one.” With my back facing him he can’t see a thing. But then there was a knock at the door. “Ugh. Who is it?”

I slipped the gun back into my pocket and followed him back to the hallway. Alessandro looked through the peephole and opened the door. It was an employ from the hotel bringing room service on a cart.

“What’s all this?” I asked as Alessandro brings him to the dining table.

“I wanted us to have a nice romantic dinner, (Y/n).” He smiled. The employ setting up the table for us. It was two orders of stakes, pasta, and salads. I internally groan and want to roll my eyes.

“Do you mind if we order a bottle of wine?” I asked not wanting to keep Jimin waiting too long. Not with so many of Alessandro’s men roaming the hotel.

“You need to get a hold of one of the uniforms. Find a way to take over someone’s position so that you will end up at Alessandro’s room.” I told him. “By the time you get to the room Alessandro should be dead and you’ll be my way out.”

We took our seat and began to eat quietly. Though in the depths of my mind I was looking at my options- my chances of pulling this off and still being able to leave alive. Wondering if Jimin was even able to blend in as a member of the staff. No. I couldn’t doubt myself now. I couldn’t doubt Jimin.

“I want to make a confession to you, (Y/n),” Alessandro said breaking the silence. He wiped the corners of his mouth and adjusted the napkin back on his lap. “I do this because I don’t want this being the only night we spend together.”

I raised my eyebrow smirking as he grabbed his glass of champagne and brought it up to me. “I was taught as a child that a man mustn’t hide things from the woman he wishes to marry. Though, when it comes to business everything is different…”

“Oh?” I raise my own glass to meet his and tilt my head at him. “Go ahead, tell me.”

“I want you to know what it is that I do for a living,” No. He wouldn’t. “I’m a trafficker.”

Then again, maybe he would.

“W-what do you mean?” I set my glass down and pushed my hair away from my face. “Trafficker of what, exactly?”

“Narcotics- cocaine mostly.” Jimin was right. Alessandro you poor bastard. “I’m the largest distributor in New York. You know, this city has always had a vice abuse, first with alcohol, marijuana, and now coke is the best seller.”

“Wait-wait.” I shut my eyes, trying to hold a straight face, taking a deep breath. “You said that you were the largest distributor in the city. Does that mean there are others?”

“Yes, a few.” He grabs his drink once again.

“Well, I ask because in the movies dealers are always fighting for territory and money.” I reach across the table and take his hand. “Is anyone trying to hurt you? Are we in danger?”

“No, yes but no. You are safe here with me.” He set his glass down and placed his other hand above mine.

“Who?” I asked pulling my hand back and running it over my forehead. I took a deep, shaky breath as I leaned back against my chair.

“Someone who goes under the name ‘Suga’.”

“Suga?” I sit back up. “Just Suga?”

“That’s all we know so far but I’m sure that he’s a man not from New York. His product is from Cuba so he could very well be Cuban himself.” He put his hand on his chin, running it through the scruff of his beard.

“But if you don’t know anything else other than the name… why are you so sure it’s a man?” I ask.

“Easy. This is a man’s business.” He shrugged. “A woman simply wouldn’t have the cold heart to kill.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit of a sexist comment?” I had to look down, let my hair cover my face for a moment while the smile spread across my face. I hear him chuckle and I look back him to find him smiling. “Isn’t it? Women can be much more than just pretty faces. I’m sure we are capable of murder and even much more. Ruthlessness isn’t exclusive to only men.”

“Well, I see you know a thing or two about human nature.” Alessandro smiled leaning in on the table and watching me in awe. “To me, it sounds like the words of a woman who’s already committed murder.”

“What?” I scoff playfully. “How could you think such a thing.”

“I’ve been around murders all my life, (Y/n). I know how they act.” He laughed and I sigh theatrically.

“Well since you confessed something, maybe I should too?”

“What?” He raised his brow at me before reaching to pour himself another glass. “You did murder someone?”

“I could tell you about that or,” I take a drink of my own glass. “I can tell you something a little more interesting.”

“More interesting than murder? Go ahead.” I set my glass down and watched him continue to drink his sense away.

“I have a boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend?” He laughed with eyes wide.

“A fiancé actually.”

“Not a big deal. We can get rid of him easily if he’s a problem.” I lowered my hand to the side of the seat, reaching for the pocket of my fur coat that hung around the chair.

“The thing is that we worked together.” My hand in the soft fur pocket, once again, gripping onto the cold metal. “I’m actually his boss.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the poor bastards name?” I laughed shaking my head.

“Yoongi…” I slide the gun out of the pocket and brought it to my lap. “but everyone knows him by a different name.”

“What is that?” He blinks.

“Suga.”

I pulled my gun out and pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced through his right shoulder. Alessandro fell back in his seat, blood coming from the exit wound onto the white wall behind him.

He groans on the floor as I stood from the table. Still aiming my gun at him as he squirmed in pain. His left hand held his bleeding shoulder. He was breathing heavily with eyes wide and blood flushing his face.

“Accidenti!” He said with his heavy breathing. He looked up at me, his eyes blackening in rage and pain but a dark laugh echoed through the room. “I knew beautiful women would be the end of me...”

“But you never thought one of them would actually end you,” I said standing at his feet.

“I guess that seems like a pretty go way to go.” He breathed. I watched him scoot himself to the wall behind him where he sat up against the wall and tossed his head back. “So...you work for Suga? How theatrical.”

“Didn’t you hear me before?” He dropped his hand down to the belt of his pants, where his gun was tucked away. “Suga works for me.”

I pulled the trigger again, the silent bullet breaking through his wrist.

“Maledetta puttana! You’re a sadistic woman with a lot of nerve.” His face was becoming pale and his shoulder was still bleeding rapidly- I must have hit a major artery. “Why don’t you just kill me already? What are you waiting for!?”

“I’m waiting for my room service,” I said stepping over him and taking his gun from his belt.

Then gunshots fired from outside of the door. Alessandro began yelling out in Italian as I stepped back to find cover against the same wall he was leaning against. I pointed the gun downward and shot him in his outer thigh to get his attention back on me. Making it clear that no one was coming to save him.

“Two of my dealers went missing two days ago,” I said leaning down and grabbing him by the hair as he continued to groan and yell. “I know you're behind this. Where are they?”

My hand tangled in his thick curls forcing him to look up at me while I pointed the gun at his head. He scoffed and spit in my direction. The spit falling to the top of my heels.

I shoved his head free from my hold. Grabbing my gun by the silencer and swinging the handle across his face. He spits blood from his mouth, a gash opening and bleeding on his brow bone.

“Where are they!?” I repeat. He was losing blood so fast that he could barely maintain his head up. But I could see his lips turning into a smirk while the gunshots continued outside of the door.

“You’ll never make it out of here alive.” He said.

I felt the adrenaline in my body start to shake my arms and my mind was switching back and forth from Alessandro to the gunshots outside, to Jimin. My time was running out and I need to know what happened to those men. I put my gun down and lifted my foot, shoving the stiletto of my heel into the bullet hole in his thigh.

“Answer me!” I said forcing my heel down harder through his broken skin.

As he cried out the front door of the room opened loudly. The gunshots were still being exchanged with the door open. Was it Jimin? Was it the police?

“Signore?!” It was Vincent Romano.

I glanced down at Alessandro, his breathing was shallow and streams of blood had begun to collect under his hands. I reached down to find his pulse on his neck. It was so faint, he would be dead any minute. I had to try to escape, with or without Jimin.

I moved along the wall, closer to the opening to the next room where Vincent wouldl be coming from my left. Gunshots were still being fired outside of the door. I lined up at the edge of the wall, taking in a deep breath and holding my gun close, as I moved to peek around the corner.

The smell of bullets and blood lingered the cold air.

I looked into the dim lit hall slowly, Vincent Romano coming into my line of sight and I coming into his. With his gun pulled out, and no hesitation, he pulled his trigger. I try to move back as swiftly as I could but I felt the metal pierce my forearm.

I stumble back behind the wall, my head against it and a groan ripping out through my teeth. The pain shot up my arm, in a burning sensation, and tensed my muscles. Blood starting to pour down my arm, the warm liquid coloring all the way down to the tips of my fingers.  

“Come out! You damn whore!”

I looked back down at the floor, where I had left Alessandro’s gun out of his reach. I picked it up and held it in my other hand. Glancing at his current state still on the floor beside me. He laid motionless, his once intimidating hazel eyes laid open soulless.   

“There you are.”

I looked over my shoulder to see him now standing behind me. I let myself drop to the floor using Alessandro’s gun to shoot and aim at his chest. My motions caused me to miss the shot and he was able to move and hide behind the other wall.

I quickly stand on my feet and grabbed one of the wooden chairs from the dining table. I kicked it out into the hallway where he was, catching him off guard as he shot the falling chair. Giving me an opening shot.

I jump into his line of sight. Watching how his eyes darted from the chair to me. Then locking eyes with his boss's gun. The shot rings in my ears while his body jerked back. The blast had him against the wall. His hold on his gun is pressed against the wall and the other is clutching onto his bleeding ribs.

“(Y/n)!” I look behind me to see Jimin coming in through the door. He’s wearing the uniform of the hotel employees with his gun in his grasp. My mouth opened to speak but his eyes looked past me. “Get down!”

I do as he says. He brings his gun up and fires past me. My eyes searching for the bullets landing. Through the head of Vincent Romano. I watch him fall to the floor.

“We have to go!” Jimin instantly appeared at my side, wrapping his hand around my upper arm, pulling me on to my feet and dragging me out of the hotel room.

In the hallway, there were two Italian men shot dead beside each other. A room service cart was tipped over and full of gunshots. Laying beside it was the drapery that veiled carts- and beside it the bottle of wine I had ordered. I kept an eye down the hall as Jimin pushed the cart upright. Cloaking the drapery back over the top of it.

“Get under. Hurry!” He held up the cloth revealing the space open for me. I moved fast to get under the cart.  I adjusted myself to a comfortable position on the cold metal of the bottom shelf, concealed by the blue fabric surrounding me. “Let’s get out of here.”

-

“You’re hurt,” Jimin said as the car stopped in front of the warehouse doors. Honking the horn so that the others could let us in.

I thoroughly observed Jimin and I could not find a single scratch on him. He had taken off the long sleeve of the hotel uniform, wearing nothing but a white tank top and dark blue slacks.

“It doesn’t hurt that much anymore.” That was a lie. I couldn’t even move my arm, blood was staining my skin and my dress.

Jimin honked again, this time causing me to jump, this time letting it bellow for a few seconds. He scoffed after getting no response, reaching for the handle of the car door. I watched him in the beams of the car lights, squatting down on his feet to push the doors over his head. The headlights pooled into the darkening warehouse but I could see the lights all the way in the back turned on. Jimin hopped back in the car,

“We have to get that bullet out of you.” He said driving us in.

We walked into the far back of the warehouse. The light of my room was on and soft talking could be heard from within. Jimin and I followed the noise.

“Didn't you hear us honking?” I said as I pushed the door open and was met by nothing.

The only voice that responded was the small TV that sat inside the wardrobe of Yoongi and I’s shared a room.

I turn to Jimin as a tainted feeling dropped in the pit of my stomach and was reflected in his face. He shook his head and he walked out of the room. Not wasting any time and kicking the doors to the other three rooms wide open. He called out their names. Jungkook. Hoseok. Yoongi.

Yoongi. Who I had last seen in the hotel lobby. How could have I forgotten? There was no one here besides us.

“Oh no…”

Jimin turned to ask me 'what'. But I could barely hear him. The pain in my arm was numbed by the heavy feeling in my stomach. I felt it pulling me down to the floor. My head feeling like it was detaching from my shoulders.

“Hey…(Y/n).” He came to my aid. His arm wrapped around my suddenly fragile frame as my legs were giving out. I held onto the door frame with my weak arm. “You've lost too much blood.”

He guided me to the bed behind us. Seating me at the edge before he squatted down to take a look at my arm.

“Yoongi was at the hotel,” I said scooping my hair out of my face. I flinched as his thumbs ran close to the bullet opening.

“What?” He paused.

“He was in the lobby when I was going up to Alessandro’s room.” He dropped my arm gently on the bed and stood back to his feet, looking down at me with puzzled eyes. “He wanted to come up to us but I stopped him. I didn't see where he went.”

“Did you see Jungkook? Or Hoseok with him?” I simply shook my head, carefully because it still felt light. “This doesn't make any sense.”

He stormed out of the room to walk into the bathroom. The bathroom is straight ahead of my room, I watched through the open doors as he frantically grabbed rags and the first aid box from underneath the sink.

But it made total sense. If Yoongi was there, Jungkook and Hobi would have surely followed him. Were they in the building when the gunshots when off? Did they make it out?

I pulled out my phone. Quickly and shakily looking for their names in my contacts. Putting the phone on speaker as Yoongi’s caller ID flashed on the screen. My head dropped as it went straight to voicemail. Maybe his phone is dead? I called Hoseok's, glancing at Jimin who was looking through the first aid box. It rang and rang but there was no answer and I was sent to voicemail again. This can't be happening. My chest was tightening as the stress and the fear tumbled inside me. Jungkook had to answer. He always answered my calls. And just as I was going to click on his name, there was a silence. Jimin had stopped scavenging around in the bathroom and I was holding my breath. The words playing off of the TV were becoming clear in my ears.

“We’re coming back to you live from lower Manhattan. With what started off as a bar altercation has turned into a police standoff. Now DEA officials have arrived at the scene, linking the suspect to the Madison Hotel. Where just an hour ago Alessandro Botticelli, Italian Mafia leader, and suspected drug lord, was killed along with three of his men.”

I called Jimin into the room. My eyes scanning the scenery behind the news reporter. Jimin coming to my side and following my gaze. There were police cars and officers blocking the entrance to an alleyway. Guns aiming far into the back where the sun was starting to set.

“The suspect has not yet been identified. He is reported to be armed and heavily intoxicated. We are getting news that two other male suspects have also been reported, apparently in an attempt to help the first suspect escape.”

Jimin and I watched in silence, mortified, as my phone rang.

[raendown]

A labor of love I wrote as a gift for @letliv3. Chapters to come out one a day!

Pairing: none Word count: 3375 Summary: A coup hidden in the shadows for decades, a scroll with a seal he didn't mean to activate; Naruto finds himself whisked away from Konoha to a destination unknown and meets a little girl who appears to be - his mom?

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Chapter 1

Harsh breathing filled the small space he was cramped in to no matter how hard he clamped a hand over his own mouth. Naruto closed his eyes and tried to calm the thundering of his heart but it was no use. Several tears squeezed out to trickle down his cheeks, running along the creases of his cheeks and dripping from the end of his chin. Salt gathered in the bags under his eyes and Naruto took a moment between gasping for air to wonder when the last time was that he’d had a decent night’s sleep.

But how could he now? To have been betrayed by one of his closest friends, to know that his friend’s hand had been forced in the cruelest of ways, how could one possibly sleep when his waking hours were already a nightmare? He was certain – more than certain – that Sai had never wanted this. The day Danzo died and the seal which had blemished Sai’s tongue for years disappeared, of course all of them thought he was free of ROOT’s clutches for good. Not for a moment had any of them suspected a separate hidden seal of which even Sai was unaware to activate more than a decade later and force him to take actions he would otherwise never dream of. Worse than watching it all happen was knowing that somewhere deep inside of himself Sai was screaming at his own body to lay the blade down.

Clenching his jaw through the tears, Naruto slammed his fist forward against the bookshelf he’d hidden himself behind. Then he winced as the sound reverberated through the room and several books and several showered down on top of his head to make an even louder ruckus. Surely that had been heard by someone. He would need to find another place to squirrel himself away while he tried to think of a plan.

With his head still whirling from the disturbingly efficient coup Shikamaru had only just convinced him to escape from, it was understandable that he didn’t take much notice of what precisely was falling down around him. He’d chosen this bookshelf because it was dusty and forgotten looking, obviously a part of the file rooms where no one had bothered to come in ages, so it had seemed like a good hiding spot. A thin layer of chakra under his feet had kept him from leaving any footprints to give himself away as well. With a sigh, Naruto leaned back on his palms to gather his wits about him.

Then he cried out in surprise as a bright light burst out of the scroll he’d just set his hand down upon, golden chains erupting out of nowhere to wrap around him and hold tight. Immediately he limned himself in his own golden light, activating his Kyuubi powers on instinct, but it had almost the exact opposite effect than he wanted it to. Rather than granting him extra strength, the Kyuubi’s chakra reacted to the chains like a long lost soul finally finding comfort, soothing him against his own will, leaving only the deepest of his consciousness to rage and twitch in futile protest as he was dragged inexorably down, down, down, extinguishing his Kyuubi cloak before he ever got to use it for anything.

Only when the thought crossed his mind that he really should have hit the floor by now did he realize that his eyes had closed again. They snapped open to see a strange vortex surrounding him, colors and darkness melding together and swirling in circles like the spiral he used to wear on his old jacket. Yet the foreign lassitude induced by the glowing chains kept him placid and stopped him from panicking, allowing him to distantly wonder if he was somehow getting sucked in to another dimension like when Kakashi-sensei used to have his kamui jutsu. That would suck. He would much rather stay in his own dimension where he still had a chance of protecting the friends who were still fighting against the uprising after Sai’s mind and many other former members of ROOT had been taken over by latent seals.

It took a little while for the colors to melt away and when they did the chains dropped at the same time, fading away to nothingness. As soon as they were gone Naruto sprang up, no longer forcibly calm, and wrenched his head in every which direction to take stock of his surroundings. He recognized nothing but that wasn’t much of a surprise if he really had hopped through a portal in to another dimension.

Wherever he was it was beautiful, he could admit that much. The grass and trees were a lush green, the bits of sky visible through the foliage covered with clouds of a soft gray, and the air was the freshest he had ever breathed. As Konoha expanded over the last few years and moved in to a more industrial era, Naruto had noticed the air getting muggier with all the factories popping up. Breathing fresh air again was like a half-forgotten memory. Filling his lungs with a long, deep breath, he caught just the slightest hint of salt on the back of his tongue. Could he be near the sea somewhere?

Since standing around here in the middle of the trees wasn’t likely to answer very many questions, Naruto shrugged and decided that he might as well take a look around to see if he could at least get a bearing on his location. Any direction was as good as another so he simply headed straight forwards where he happened to be facing, tramping through the grass and using his hands to push overhanging branches away from his path. His heart wasn’t truly in the mood for exploration, distracted with worry for his friends, but he couldn’t help them until he found a way back and for now that meant moving forward. Beads of dew gathered at his fingertips and drips of water fell gently in his hair but Naruto ignored both in favor of keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement.

Instead of movement, he was attracted first by a loud voice shouting somewhere up ahead.

“CANNON BALL!”

Naruto perked up even as he ducked his head down, leaping in to the trees and putting on a burst of speed. He hurried forward until the sounds of splashing water and laughter met his ears and then slowed until he was watching his step between every jump from branch to branch. Eventually he came to the edge of a small lake and hid behind a think bough of leaves to watch several children splash about in the water. When he saw them he had to rub his eyes and blink rapidly just to be sure that he wasn’t hallucinating, going so far as to quietly attempt to dispel any possible genjutsu.

All of them had brilliant red hair the exact same shade his mother had when he met her inside his mindscape. Tomato, she said her classmates had called her, and indeed the children down below looked like tomatoes bobbing in the lake, especially the two boys with their shorts haircuts. The only people he had ever known to have that distinctive red shade of hair were those of Uzumaki descent like Karin or Nagato. Even Gaara had traces of Uzumaki ancestry, as they had discovered only a few years ago. His friend had been shy but pleased to tell him and Naruto would openly admit to having cried with sheer joy. Knowing he had any family, no matter how distant, it was the greatest moment in his life barring the days his children had been born. Now here he was looking at three little ones who could easily have passed for full-blooded Uzumaki.

What the hell was this place?

Inching forward, he leaned just the slightest bit to one side and tried to scan the area for clues about which direction the kids had come from. Was there a settlement nearby? Hopefully they would be friendly and he could ask directions and maybe ask enough subtle questions to figure out if he was even still in the same universe.

A small part of his mind which sounded suspiciously like Sakura laughed at the idea of him being subtle about anything but Naruto managed to ignore it and keep looking.

Except, when he looked back down at the lake there were only two children there now. Strange. Somehow the girl had managed to slip away right under his nose and he hadn’t even bothered to notice. Naruto frowned but brightened immediately afterwards. Maybe she’d gone to get her things and go back to their home. If that was the case then he could follow her and do a little reconnaissance like Kakashi-sensei taught him to.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Yelping with fright, Naruto jerked around to see that the little girl had not, in fact, left for home. She was standing right behind him with her hands on both hips and a disapproving frown on her face, hair and clothing both dripping at her feet. Chakra that almost seemed familiar brushed against his very briefly before he had a chance to say anything.

“Oh.” Her frown melted away, replaced with a brilliant smile. “Sorry about that! You don’t look like an Uzumaki but you’ve got our chakra for sure!”

“Eh!? How do you know?”

“All of us have really similar chakra, duh.”

“Well excuse me for not having any other Uzumaki around to figure that out!”

Naruto glared at her for making him feel dumb. He’d never been very good at sensing chakra anyway. Kurama’s chakra had always blotted everything else out when he was younger and then once he learned to control it there was still no one like him around. Karin had instantly rebuffed his invitations to be a citizen of Konoha and Gaara had his own village to run.

The little girl tilted her head at him in confusion. He would have put her at about six years old, nowhere near the age when she should have been confronting strange adults in the forest with no one else around to help her if things turned ugly. Naruto opened his mouth to say something about that and then stopped as his brain finally caught up with her words.

“Wait, you’re an Uzumaki!?” he demanded. She nodded proudly.

“Of course I am. We all are.” Naruto stared.

“You all are,” he repeated faintly. ‘All’ meant there were more than just the three of them. ‘All’ implied a group. His heart thundered in his chest and it took all of his self-control not to grab her by the arms and shake some answers out of her. “Show me!”

“Sure thing! Right this way, dattebane!”

His entire body twitched but his quiet, “What did you just say?” was lost to the wind as the little girl hurled herself off the branch they were standing on and he had to scramble to follow her to the next tree.

As they made their way around the edge of the lake the girl hollered at her two companions that she was going back to the village, setting Naruto’s mind awhirl. There was a whole village of Uzumaki! Was it possible that there had been survivors when Uzushio had been destroyed?

Their journey was even shorter than he thought it would be, a mere ten minutes before the trees parted like the sudden breaking of an illusion and between one moment and the next there was a village before his eyes. It was breathtaking, elegant in its perfect immersion with nature. Houses were built in to hills or outcroppings of rock, naturally embellished with strategically planted flowers and bushes. No roadways existed but for the paths worn down by countless feet and numerous bridges connecting the treetops. All around the village there were visible signs of frequent flooding and Naruto marveled at the tenacity of a people who would choose to stay and thrive under such conditions.

While he was busy letting his eyes fall out with admiration his young guide swept one arm out to encompass all they saw before them.

“Pretty nice, huh? Since you’re an Uzumaki – obviously – then you belong here. So welcome home to Uzushio!”

“To what!?” Naruto’s head snapped around, certain that he must have misheard.

“Uzushiogakure, dummy. Don’t you listen?”

Getting sassed by a six year old wasn’t really on his list of things to do today but Naruto ignored that in favor of scowling in defiance. She had to be wrong, of course. No way was this the real Uzushio.

“You’re pulling my leg right? Uzushio was destroyed long before I was even born. Did you guys build again somewhere or something?”

“Destroyed!? Are you crazy!? Whirlpool Island is impenetrable and who the hell would want to wipe us out anyway?” The little girl shook her head, spraying water droplets everywhere and she gave him a look that said her opinion of his intelligence was dropping by the minute. Naruto was forced to follow when she leapt down from her tree and set a course between the cleverly hidden houses.

“Uh, I think it was Kiri,” he muttered, trying to remember his history classes from way back in his academy days. But it had been a long time and he’d never paid all that much attention back then anyway. No more details came to mind.

“Huh. I guess Kiri doesn’t really like us all that much, you’re right. But no way could they ever wipe us out! We’re super strong, dattebane!”

Naruto stumbled. That word, that verbal tick so very close to his own. Could it be just a thing that all members of the Uzumaki clan did subconsciously? Unfortunately he had no chance to ask because as soon as he regained his balance and caught up to her she had reached her destination and was being greeted by a trio of women. All of them sported the brilliant red hair of their clan and faces so closely identical he would have thought them clones if they hadn’t been wearing different clothes.

“And who is this that you’ve brought to us, child?” the woman in the center asked, her eyes scanning Naruto from head to toe. There was something curious about the looking her eyes despite the incredible poise with which she held herself.

“Dunno. I didn’t ask his name. But he’s an Uzumaki, I checked! So he belongs here too!” The girl offered an unrepentant grin in the face of a judgmental look.

“What is your name, shinobi?”

“Uzumaki Naruto! Uh…where am I?”

“I already told you!”

Naruto fought the urge to stick his tongue out at her. He was thirty-four years old, damn it. Both of his children were older than her. Regressing back to his own childish habits certainly wasn’t going to help him impress any answers out of these hoity-toity prissy-faces who seemed to be authority figures. A shudder ran through him when all three of them raised the same eyebrow at the same time.

“As an Uzumaki you doubt your own homeland?” one of them asked.

He didn’t really have a way to refute that other than to admit that he’d never been here before to get to know the place. And since that much was pretty obvious already he opted to do nothing but shrug.

“Where do you come from, Uzumaki Naruto?” The woman on the right asked him. Her hair had tiny braids woven through with very fine silver chains and it gave her the look of a crowned noble lady.

“Konoha, of course!”

“Ah. It was my belief that the Lady Mito was the only Uzumaki remaining in your village. We offer our condolences for her loss.”

“Her…loss?”

“The nine-tailed beast. His chakra is only too obvious within your own and, as all know, a jinchūriki does not survive the extraction of their ward. If you are the new bearer then it is obvious that the Lady Mito has left this world. We mourn the loss of such a paramount woman.”

Naruto nodded slowly and wondered what the hell she was talking about. The name Mito tugged at some very old memory but he couldn’t for the life of him think of where he had heard it before. Apparently she’d been Kurama’s jinchūriki at some point and he would have asked his friend about it if he couldn’t sense Kurama is the midst of a massive sulk. Best not to disturb him right then.

“Your chakras are so perfectly melded; I marvel at your skill.” His attention was drawn back to the woman in the middle. “You must be a very powerful shinobi indeed to have tamed the beast so well.”

“I’m the Hokage, dattebayo!”

As soon as he said it he could feel tension in the air that he hadn’t even noticed had melted away until suddenly it was back.

“We had not realized that Konoha had chosen a fourth Hokage so soon after the appointment of Hiruzen-sama.” All three ladies tilted their heads, the little girl beside them imitating the motion a single second off-beat. Naruto reached up to scratch his head in confusion. Had all of these people been buried under a rock somewhere?

“Fourth? The fourth was my dad. I’m the seventh Hokage, duh.” With a twist he showed them the back of his specially made haori.

“Seventh?”

Naruto gulped and took a step back. He hadn’t seen a frown that forbidding since the last time Yamato-taichou had to use his scary face to frighten a few boisterous genin off of his front lawn. What the hell had he done to earn a look like that?

Between one moment and the next all of his senses began to scream at him. Kakashi-sensei could probably have explained exactly what he was feeling but all Naruto knew was that suddenly these women did not like him. Their eyes on him had that same feeling of suspicion and disdain which had followed him throughout his earliest childhood, before the adults of the village slowly learned to see him as more than just the demon container.

When one of the women shifted their stance he shifted his own as well, tracking her movements, ready to spring in to action. Hopefully he would be able to get that little girl away from them, maybe use a clone to move her to a safer place if this turned in to a fight.

“You think you can walk in to our village and fool us with such blatant lies? Insult. Slander. Treachery. You may possess Uzumaki lineage but you have just as obviously squandered it. Do not expect your blood to grant you mercy, Uzumaki Naruto.” The lady on the left reached for one of her hair pieces as Naruto continued to frown in confusion.

“I didn’t tell any lies!” he insisted. “I’m the seventh Hokage, ‘ttebayo! You’re the crazy ones!”

“Us!?” The little girl finally piped up again just to give him an incredulous look. “You thought Kiri had destroyed Uzushio! You’re crazy!”

Okay, Naruto thought to himself, maybe he wouldn’t bother to protect her if she was going to side with these bozo idiots. He sneered back at her mockingly as the lady who threatened him laid a restraining hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“That is enough, Kushina,” the woman snapped. Naruto froze.

“What did you call her?” he breathed.

“My name is Uzumaki Kushina, dattebane! And don’t you forget it!”

His body felt cold and hot at the same time. Several things fell in to place all at the same time and, while Naruto was well aware that he had never been the smartest person that ever lived, he had enough experience with the world now to put two and three together to make five. Still, the theory that had just entered his brain right then might have been the craziest he had ever come up with.

With wide eyes and shaking limbs, he tilted his head to get a better look at the girl peeking out at him with a determined face and more fire than a red hot habanero pepper.

“Mom?”

[metanarrates]

my gf's special interest is speedrunning and last night we talked for like 2 hours about how sorely underutilized SAO's setting and especially kirito's status as a beta tester is. our patch notes for How To Make SAO More Interesting include:

- main trio of kirito, asuna, and yui as a glitch hunter, speedrunner, and hacker respectively, with characterizations and arcs updated to match

-story takes full advantage of SAO being a game pumped out by a small team in horrific crunch in order to sell a new console (aka it would realistically a buggy MESS.) kirito, as a beta tester, would be intimately familiar with the limitations of the code and be able to exploit glitches to all hell

-glitch hunting requires a lot of patience and willingness to look stupid! as a result, the overall tone becomes much more comedic at times than base SAO. lots of new gags using weird coding exploits have been added. kirito now has a tendency to stare at rocks for 6 hours at a time if he thinks they moved weirdly

-SO many battles where glitches and physics exploits are used. since that's now the gang's main tactic, SAO becomes more of a "heroes using their wits and knowledge" show than a "hero wins by being the bestest at combat" show. all filler episodes are now about the gang glitch hunting or otherwise building up their skills while the filler plot happens

-kirito is no longer a lone wolf because people hate how overpowered he is. he's a lone wolf because he's a weird obsessive socially awkward weirdo who has strange hobbies and his strength looks like "cheating" from an outside perspective. he's come to embrace his image as someone who doesn't need anyone because even in this horrible death game people are STILL bullying him the same way they did on the outside and he's lost the comrades who did actually like him. his arc is about him learning to get over his fear of social rejection to be with people who actually understand and could benefit from his interests

-asuna is now a thrill-seeking perfectionist who is INTENSELY good at level grinding due to her knack for speedrunning difficult bosses on her own. she has a very dangerous fighting style against bosses she knows well because she's memorized their attack patterns and can avoid getting hit. her speed, strength, and reflexes have made her a target for many guilds seeking to add her talent to their ranks, but she typically grows bored with them and leaves because the guilds play it too safe for her to feel engaged. she's abrupt, blunt, and has a definite superiority complex, but she eventually gets along well with kirito because their personalities and areas of expertise complement one another. her arc involves learning to rely on others' strengths and also learning that she shouldn't play so carelessly with her own safety

-og yui sucks, so we came up with the idea that this version of her is simply a regular player pretending to be an AI. child character models now belong exclusively to NPCs in this version of the game, but before logging onto the game, yui, also a beta tester, hacked her nervegear to give her several exploits, including an avatar she shouldn't be able to have. she's now a massive troll who initially approaches kirito and asuna under false pretenses to see if they're worthy of accompanying her. she judged them to be idiots but kirito's analytical prowess and asuna's combat expertise are still extremely useful. she drops the guise of an NPC and eventually becomes good friends with them both. her arc involves her learning to get over her judgemental streak and be more sincere

-yui has an item that she's hacked to forcibly swap other players' outfits with more and more pieces of the "clown" outfit every time they land a hit on her

-there's a level grinding exploit the group concocts that involves trapping a high amount of sheep in a small space and then shearing them all at once for massive EXP

-the final boss is the developer of the game versus our glitch crew. he gets defeated by getting shoved into the sheep pit and his game crashing to the high amount of collision 👍

-power of neurodivergent weirdos as a theme or some shit

sword art online making its main character a boring overpowered level grinder sucks ass. why not take advantage of the game world setting by making him a glitch hunter who uses stupid tricks to get infinite weapons

[jolivira]

My Legend of Korra Fanfic

Sacrifice for a Lost Cause. Chapter 3

Korra takes the first step of her journey to reconnect to her past lives. Even after exhaustedly discussing the topic with her masters, Korra is still uncertain of what to do.

Earth

Walking through the desert was getting harder with each passing minute. Korra was trying her best to guide Naga, and although the sun wasn’t up anymore, the polar bear-dog’s skin was too thick and pools of sweat were slowering her down greatly.

The journey in and out of itself had started bumpily: Korra still wasn’t sure of what she had to look for exactly. It was initially Asami’s idea to start at the desert; it was located in the center of the Earth Nation, a clear exhibition of the respective people’s strong culture. By what Korra understood of the lecture, chakras could technically be opened anywhere, but by connecting and understanding better its nature, the easier it would be to succeed on the task. She had been studying the list given to her, with possible places and weather she could follow for each one.

Taking Naga to the Great Desert was almost cruel to the animal, but she had stubbornly refused to stay behind in the Misty Palms. It wasn’t very effective to challenge a fully grown polar bear-dog. After some hours of marching, a single old tree appeared in their blurred line of vision. Korra pushed the reigns and (showing great uncertainty) decided to finally stop. Dust was lifted up with the last of Naga’s heavy steps and Korra jumped down, her warm boots reaching the dirt below. Her skin was covered in layers of dirt and sand, Naga’s white fur had now a brown gradient from her paws.

The mentioned tree showed to be incredibly dry, standing half-dead among the sand dunes. The branches were thick and singular, as if begging the skies above for some rain. Naga shook her body, the fat and muscles of her neck moved heavily to all sides, her floppy ears going along. Earth and sand flew from the animal’s fur as she laid down next to the charred roots of the lonely tree. Korra glanced around, analyzing the place, trying to get to a conclusion. Was this the place she needed to be? What if she sat down and nothing happened? With a short sight, she dropped to her knees and took in the yellow horizon.

With the words of her masters in mind, Korra crossed her legs in full lotus position (the same way she did when entering the spirit world) and meditated based on what she had learned about the first chakra. The mudra lam consisted of resting each hand on a knee, simply touching the index finger and the thumb together. In and out.

The sound of movement caught her ears immediately, the desert seemed to be shifting with great effort. Blinking at the sand getting in her eyes, Korra tried to understand what was taking shape in front of her. Sand was coolly falling and sliding down the dune, with a few trembles and shuffling of the floor, the head of an elephant appeared, emerging from the ground. The image was blurry, but soon enough a red colored elephant looked directly at her. Ears, trunk and carved ivory, all still slightly shifting with the wind, like ocean waves evaporating in a warm day at the beach.

Korra watched as a shining symbol appeared in the forehead of the animal, dragging the light inwards, to inside it’s head. She had never seen something like it before, it could be a spirit’s emblem, probably related to her task. She carefully opened her mind to the meditation: the first chakra was blocked by fear and hesitation, highlighting the importance of basis and foundation. She let her thoughts run free, several ideas passed through her, still too confusing.

As the thought crossed her mind, a new image took form, much closer to Korra this time. A breezing draft gathered sand around and, in just mere seconds she was sitting directly across another woman. She was of average size, her green robes were tightly laced around her torso with brown leather strings. Her hair was black, tied with a green band, and her features sharp, but welcoming in a curious way. The woman was in the same lotus position but with closed eyes. Fact: she had no arms, short sleeves hung uselessly from her clothes.

By now it was too impossible to be just a mere coincidence, that was certainly the earth avatar she had seen on the swamp. Korra squinted at her appearance, imagining the origins and meanings of the symbols detailed in her robe, sort of primitive compared to their new age. She felt a desperate need to talk to this woman, to ask her about her experiences, her life, her time. A sinking feeling came to Korra, a hurt in her chest. The sand- elephant was definitely a spirit, guiding her to the right direction, maybe Raava was trying to do the same bringing her memories of the old avatars.

Korra tried focusing on her fears. Thinking of her weaknesses and disadvantages, Korra tried to locate what was blocking this chakra. What was she scared of?

A new light came from the elephant, at the same moment as it raised it’s trunk making a strong trumpet sound. Sand began to cascade down its ears. The markings on its head were changing, glowing and messy. She saw arms, legs and heads, trying to get free from the light; desperately, angrily, hopelessly. One of the forms seemed to have taken control. One jump and a humanoid figure flew from the red light, escaping from the messy forms. A masked, hooded men, looking down on her with absolute hatred, fist closed for an attack. Amon had been the first real threat of the world, Korra had faced him as a 17 year old, lost and inexperienced. And there had been consequences. So many of them.

Amon jumped from the high ground that he stood, his feet landed on the ground with unexpected lightness, grey robes flowing in the wind, dissipating in the air. As the man slowly looked up again he presented a bald head, white faded scars and aggressive eyes that truly made Korra flinch. Her breath hitched. Zaheer took off with an impulse that indeterminately shook their surroundings; flight, an ability that he still held to this day. Korra felt her heart beating fast, suffocating her lungs. Zaheer took a sharp turn in mid-flight, his form morphed into of yet another man, glowing in red, gold and black. Another zap in the air and looking at her with shiny, ancient symbols, was now Vaatu, the spirit of chaos itself.

Korra looked to the peaceful avatar in front of her, indifferent to all those visions, trying to take courage from the armless lady. She breathed in and decided to speak up, using the truest words she could think of:

“I am afraid of human beings, of the power they can have, of the influence they can use for evil. How different we can be and how much harm we can do or suffer from. I got over my past battles but they still haunt me. I still fear these people, no matter what I tell myself. I will not be free until I find a way to understand that they belong to my past, not my future.”

A wind burst from the dune, like a dam had just been broken in the spiritual world, Vaatu was forcibly sucked back into the elephant. The avatar’s eyes opened glowing in white, the sand around them shook visibly, Korra felt her spine tensing up.

“My name is Lishiamo.” Her voice was high pitched, her green eyes glared in determination behind the white glow. Pure and raw strength emanated from her. “Young avatar, you have survived from each and every of these fights. You are safe and that safety is something you can rely on, trusting your own natural instinct. Fear is the bodily mechanism of warning and protection, it is necessary for human beings. You cannot let it take over you, as in the place you are right now, physically and mentally, you can defeat anything . Use that as your basis, always, and trust your abilities.”

Behind them, the elephant was overflowing in dirt again, just as soundly like the first time. Lishiamo kept her gaze at Korra and continued, lightly furthering the subject:

“You have triggered the start of your journey, young avatar, you have liberated the first point of energy flow in your body. Now that you have taken the challenge and begun, do not even consider stopping. I believe you have instructed yourself of the consequences and risks, but remember: you shall not give up, no matter how challenging and scary. You are not controlled by fear anymore, do not doubt yourself.” Lishiamo’s eyes scanned the desert, laying on the tree that had attracted Korra to that special place. “In my time, this tree was considered a symbol of strength in our lands. It has grown five times the size it was back then, and even if it looks dead to an outsider, we know that it will continue to grow and fight for survival in this unforgiving land. With time and dedication it can reach the skies. That is the mantra that I had kept everyday of my life, and eventually I gained universal respect as the avatar figure of the people. Listen to this advice: see the world with the highest accuracy possible, do not rely on luck, but on your own faithful structure.”

She breathed in and closed her eyes. Two red lights flashed, mindlessly flying in Korra’s direction. It reached her spine and after no hesitation it was gone, no after effects on the desert. Only the single dry tree, Naga snoring on the side and her sitting down figure. Her breathing returned to normal as she looked at the sun. The scene was so peaceful she wouldn’t dare disrupt it. They waited until sunset, just like Korra’s gut told her to.

[zippdementia]

Part 68 Alignment May Vary: City of Ghosts

Situation: Roger Krisp leads the Hell’s Rebels from aboard his mighty airship, The Ark, which he has parked over the ruined cityscape of Maladomini, one of the Nine Cities of Hell which was destroyed during Hell’s previous election cycle when civil war broke out (Imoaza doesn’t like the cold and curls up around the ship’s walls, which are heated). His plan, which he and his council of five tell the players over a feast, is to find a way off of Hell and to take his rebels with him. Ultimately, they want to find a way back to their home world of Faerun. While the player’s sleep and clean themselves (and Aldric gets a little dirty with a trio of Goblin women), Krisp sends a team out to find the players’ crashed spaceship. He discovers it is repairable, but that it cannot fly without being repowered. The only thing that can repower it are Crystals. Alyss has mentioned these as being responsible for ushering souls to Hell, and we know the Surveyor used them to pepper worlds with life. We know the Jade Statue was one, and contained some of the power of a Dark One, a Star Spawn from beyond the Void. Turns out Mammon has a ton of him in his Trump-esque tower of Minauros. The Rebels have been trying to get the crystals for years, because they are the only thing that can power a ship enough to leave Hell’s atmosphere. To break into the vault, Alyss devised a plan. There is a Demon who can help them, but it needs to be freed from its Archdevil master first, an ancient devil known as The Yellow King. Alyss learned the Demon’s true name and was bartering with a devil named Puck in order to gain an item that can free the Demon. Alyss intended to use the Demon as a distraction to let her and the rebels break into Mammon’s vault. Now the players have to take her place and meet her contact, Puck, in the City of Ghosts.

Twist: Just as Krisp finishes speaking, the whole airship shakes and the alarm is called. “Under attack?” Krisp asks incredulously. “Out here in this wasteland? Nothing comes here, though I have been saying this place is RIPE for a water theme park.” It turns out the devils are very intent on catching the players and have tracked them to Maladomini. White Dragons ridden by Ice Devils swarm the airship and the crew mans guns and other futuristic weapons to take them down.

Combat: The players fight an Ice Devil on board the deck of the airship, while attacks from the Ice Dragons occasionally interrupt combat in spectacular ways, keeping the players on their toes. It is an interesting combat, where the Ice Devil casts ice walls around the players to try and block them off to fight one at a time. Everyone holds their own, perhaps none so much as Carrick, who uses his anti-matter rifle to turn the tide of combat, blasting away a good chunk of the Ice Devil’s health, and who then survives being encased in an icy Iron Maiden of the Devil’s Construction. Aldric finally forcibly bursts through one of the ice walls to engage the Devil in melee. As he stabs through the Ice Devil’s heart, Aldric discovers a hidden power of Mist Reaver, the sword belonging to his old company, that lets it suck up elemental energy and reproduce it, turning his blade into a chill weapon. The Dragons are driven off, and combat is successful!

Notes: 

The Council of Six is made up of a new character, Star the Tiefling, and four of the adventurers who were in the Tomb of Horrors campaign I ran several years ago and also journaled: Tinia the fat elven Cleric, Geth the gothic rogue, Ikbaldi the huge boistrious barbarian, and Otto the Warlock (Chad the Bard was already dead, so his soul didn’t go to Hell with the rest of the party). Also, technically Ikbaldi’s soul was trapped by Acererak, but cannon would state that Ikbaldi later escaped this prison, though was killed soon after in his weakened state). The council helps during the dragon battle, running all over and displaying their various, impressive level 15 abilities.

When the players try to sleep, Aldric pairs up with three goblin wenches and they have loud loud loud sex in the room next to Imoaza (edit: the player informs me that one of the goblins, at least one, was definitely male. I didn’t look close enough at that tangle of limbs to verify, so we’ll take his word for it). Her meditations deeply disturbed by Aldric’s antics, Imoaza goes to find Carrick’s room in another part of the ship and the two bond a little bit simply by enjoying each other’s relative silence. Carrick himself is ruminating on what Roger Krisp told him about the Surveyor, because it turns out Roger Krisp knows that legend.

The Surveyor, Krisp tells the party, is an ancient being who once traveled the stars, spreading life to other planets. It’s unknown whether there is one Surveyor or many, but he was said to be immortal. His motivations were unclear and he seemed to be nomadic in nature, never staying in any one place and never returning to it after his initial visits and experiments with the crystals. He had no equal in technological prowess and his research seemed especially focused on using souls to power things or to reconstruct life. The Crystals are conduits for channeling souls into energy. No one knows what happened to him (except the players now do).

Roger Krisp asks the players advice on a new catchphrase. He’s developed a sugary cereal, see, Krispy Krisps, or Captain Krisps, which funds the Hell’s Rebels operation (”Sales this quarter are surprisingly good, ever since we added buttloads of sugar!”)and he thinks the whole Hell’s Rebels organization needs a cool branding phrase to not only go along with the cereal but to usher them into adventure! Something they will call out before each mission. Some contenders are, “Get Krispy with it!” or “It’s Krisp Time!” or “Krispy does it!” or “Krispy is as Krispy does!” They settle on “Let’s Get Krispy” and head off for the City of Ghosts, where the devil Puck resides.

Situation: The players have to sneak into the accursed City of Ghosts, the place where creatures who have lost their last bit of soul end up wandering, cast away shells of their former selves. They have to find Puck here, while avoiding getting lost in the city’s perpetual fog (straying into the fog, they are warned, will slowly drain them of their powers and souls). Trolls who have completely infested the city are also on the prowl for fresh meat and soul power draws them like a beacon. The players are going to have to be quick. To help them, they are offered Jacobs as a guide, as he survived on his own in the City of Ghosts for nearly a week, longer than any other person has done... at least, and emerged with their soul intact. He tells them they are looking for Viam Autem Dominin Reprobi, which is ancient common for “The Path of Fallen Lords.”

Twist: Technology will draw the attention of all the Trolls in the city, so Jacobs, a dark skinned warrior who died on Faerun long long ago before the Time of Troubles, takes his flying car and parks it on the outskirts, then shows the players the entrance to a sewer which they can use to get inside the city unnoticed. Only, as they traverse the sewers, they encounter a Hydroloth, from Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes. It eats Jacobs memories and leaves him a confused, speechless, husk who aimlessly follows Carrick. The party gets into an intense fight with the Hydroloth on its home turf. The best part of the fight is when the Hydroloth charms Aldric and Imoaza tries to break the charm by ALSO charming Aldric.... which is a super bad ass idea even though she fails her battle of wills. The battle over Aldric’s mind ultimately ends in a victory for the Hydroloth and poor Aldric experiences the mother of all migraines as his brain is turned into a battlefield. Despite this, the limitations of Crown of Madness (which the Hydroloth cast on Aldric) catch me off guard: it is a reaaally limited spell, limited to forcing a creature to make melee attack against a creature within reach at the beginning of their turn before moving. That sucks unless the players are grouped up and too stupid to not stay bunched up after they see a mother-fuckin’ crown of GODDAMNED THORNS appear around the head of their heaviest hitter (”Get the hell away from that guy!”) At first I thought the spell had useage at least as a “retain your own personal bodyguard” spell, holding the party’s big hitter in reserve until he could break the enchantment, and threatening anyone who gets close, but no--the madness doesn’t function if the target isn’t forced to attack someone on their turn. Seriously, what is this bullshit? I’m sure I’ve played this wrong in the past just because this makes no sense. Alright, end rant. Short story is, the players do manage to defeat the Hyrdoloth, though it ends in quite a freaky way, as the beast dives into deeper water and then uses illusions via phantasmal force to make Aldric think it has morphed into a huge tentacled creature. Carrick eventually finds it in the water and defeats it. But Jacobs’ memory does not return.

The Debate: A furious debate rages over whether they should leave Jacobs or not. Aldric feels he should be left behind, as he will be a burden. Imoaza thinks that they should take him... to use him as bait for monsters in the city. Carrick feels they should kill him and put the dude out of his misery... or use him as bait. This is Carrick leaning back towards his darker side and when he prays to his good god for guidance, he is given the extreme cold shoulder and realizes, with shame, that he is not adhering to his promised path in life: to do good to balance out the evil he once did as Carrick the Conqueror (as some of the small folk had named him).

“Do you know no spell which can reverse this memory loss, fix broken memories?” Carrick asked Imoaza. The snake woman looked at him curiously, her slit eyes unblinking and unreadable. “No. Of course not. If I had, I would have cast it on you long ago so we could retrieve your past life as The Surveyor.”

Carrick felt a tug on his arm. He turned to see Jacobs standing next to him. The man held up his hand and showed Carrick that he’d found a single gold piece. Carrick sighed.

“He’s my responsibility, then.”

The players find a ladder past the Hydroloth’s pool and exit into the City of Ghosts.

Situation: The players are lost in the City of Ghosts. With Jacobs, er, indisposed and unable to guide them, they have to wander the fog-filled streets looking for the Path of Fallen Lords (Aldric fails a survival roll badly, points in a random direction and says “this is west,” then leads the party onward). This means rolling on a random encounter chart I’ve worked up for this session, chock full of trolls and odd encounters. If they pass this, they will find Puck in a tavern he has filled with the illusion of merry hustle and bustle. Puck wants to make a contract with them, to “ride with the Hell’s Rebels until they reach their final destination.” The limits of the deal stipulate that no Hell’s Rebel can harm him or allow him to knowingly come to harm during this time. In exchange, he will lend them a weapon capable of destroying the bonds that hold the Demon Train to its master, the Yellow King.

Twist: Once the deal with Puck is made, the party is interrupted by a gunship (think Samus Aran’s ship, from Metroid) landing outside the tavern and the entrance of its pilot, a mercenary who has been searching for Puck. 

The doors to the tavern bang open and thin wisps of fog blow in from the outside, followed by a lithe but strange shape. It is a humanoid, only the bottom half of the creature ends in a large snake’s coils. The beast slithers into the tavern and points one of its arms, which has been replaced with something resembling a small cannon, at the impish Puck crouched on one of the tables.

“Puck! You’ve been evading Mammon for longer than he thought you could. But the gig is up and now it’s time to...” the mercenary, whose voice is feminine with a hard edge to it, trails off as she catches sight of the three companions crowded around Puck’s table. “Mother?” she hisses.

The mercenary turns out out to be none other than Hecate, who lost her life (and her hexblade) after using her hexblade to follow Imoaza into the mayhem the team had caused in the underground Yuan Ti temple. Found almost immediately by the beast the team had released there, she was ripped in half and her soul rejected by the Snake Goddess, landing instead in Hell, where she has become one of Hell’s most tenacious mercenaries. Still, she has never forgotten her hatred for her Mother, Imoaza, and her desire to murder her has only intensified due to the circumstances of her demise.

Combat: Imoaza has no interest in parleying with her wayward daughter. She thinks of her as less than dirt, a daughter who never proved her worth and is far too emotional to be considered a true snake. Imoaza isn’t surprised the goddess rejected her and tells Hecate as much. Flying into a rage, Hecate immediately summons a venom troll and attacks the players using a variety of weapons, most notably an ability to turn invisible using a technological device and her gun arm, which launches blasts of varying power and effect at the players. It’s a tough fight: Imoaza leads with a critical hit against Carrick, who gets in the way of her and Imoaza--Carrick gets a huge knife embedded in his chest as her throws himself in front of Hecate’s attack, after she climbs up then leaps from the tavern’s balcony towards Imoaza. Aldric, meanwhile, gets caught up in fighting the Venom Troll, which turns out to be a rough situation, as fighting the thing at close range exposes Aldric to lots and lots of poisonous blood.

In order to bring down the troll, Aldric calls upon the help of his Green Company again, using his special horn to call them. The Green Company arrive and leap to the task given to them.

Charging through the tavern door suddenly are figures from Aldric’s past. He recognizes Three-Fours, the mercenary whose name refers to the number of fingers he has left on each hand; Bungo, the vivacious female Halfing whose girth is matched only by her strength and loudness in battle; and Susan, the mostly ineffectual cook who nonetheless swings a mighty battleaxe in combat. “Looking good, commander!” Bungo yells as she bounds towards the huge, pus-filled troll. The nasty creature turns to face her as she comes and uses one huge yellowed nail to tear into its own stomache, spilling venomous stomach fluid out in a geyser across the charging berserkers. The three cringe as the liquid hits them but they do not slow their charge, tearing into the creature with Aldric at their side, all of them shouting “FOR THE COMPANY!” as Bungo’s dual blades shred flesh, Three-Fours stabs downward with his cutlass, and Susan misses spectacularly with his great axe. Soon the tavern is sprayed left and right with the poisonous blood and Aldric falls, his skin smoking from where the blood has soaked him.

Carrick and Imoaza try to focus on bringing down Hecate and things look bad for a moment as they struggle to find her, but finally Hecate messes up, knocking over a chair as she moves invisibly through the room, and Imoaza immediately launches several eldritch blasts at her using Drosselgreymer. The back and forth continues for a while before Carrick finally manages to blast Hecate with his anti-matter rifle and then close with her to deal more damage with his blade. Hecate responds by teleporting out of the tavern, back to her ship, and leaving behind several neutron bombs.

Aldric is down, the Green Company is fighting the troll. Carrick runs from the tavern, calling to Imoaza to get out! Imoaza looks to Aldric, her snake like brain reasoning that Aldric’s is going to be needed for the group to survive the dangers of Hell. She feels something light on her shoulder: it is Puck. “I’ll help you!” he says, and enhances her strength.

And so it is that the party dives from the tavern, Aldric’s slung over Imoaza’s shoulder, just as it erupts into a ball of flame behind them. Even then, their challenge isn’t over. Hecate’s ship takes off as they run outside and blasts away into the sky. But the players are left facing a pack of trolls, who are rushing from the fog towards the commotion. Puck waves his hands and the fog ahead of them lifts and a path is shown that leads straight from the city. At the end of the far sprint, they can see The Ark fly in, ready to retrieve them via ladders.

The players heal Aldric and all of them run, Puck on Imoaza’s shoulder, Carrick grabbing Jacobs, who is lingering around numbly. They have to roll a quick chase scene, with the trolls right on their heels! They just make it... Imoaza actually has a troll grab onto her leg as she leaps for one of the ship’s ladder and she almost goes down to its bite as it tries to rip apart her leg. She has to blast it in the face with an Eldritch blast to force it to let go, and then they are all away and finally safe.

Notes:

Wandering through the city, the group comes to a huge town square with over seventeen streets leadign off in jumbled directions from it. Here they encounter an odd mummer’s show being put on by grim jesters with skulls for masks. They are catering to a group of shadowy beings who, when caught out of the corner of an eye, seem to have the shape of people and humanoids. But when stared at directly, it is hard to determine what exactly they are. The group tries to sneak around them, but Aldric’s armor is too loud and they are spotted. Trying to salvage the situation Aldric pretends to be a performer himself and decides to sing a bawdry song from his mercenary days. But he rolls a critical fail on his performance check and the shadows and jesters begin to move in on him to tear him apart and add his soul to their procession. That’s when Carrick leaps into the middle of the crowd and blasts them all with a dose of his Paladin-given holy power, combined with an incredible intimidation score. He frightens the crowd of shadows and the Jesters soon follow their flock, disappearing into the mists.

The weapon that can destroy the bonds is none other than Heartcarver, the third legendary weapon the team recovered from White Plume Mountain (seems like ages ago) and which was lost when Nysyries lost her life in the mountain passes. Puck says he traded a Goblin magical power in exchange for the weapon, which means Nysyries’ body was scavenged by goblins. Aldric recognizes the weapon. There is also a brief conversation about the power of Aldric’s Rod of Storms, but it seems dormant for the moment.

The conversation with Puck is fun: he tries to pull a fast one with the contract the players sign and they catch him out on it and even force him to add an addendum that he will help them restore Jacob’s memory. For his part, he words the conditions very carefully and makes it clear, too, that the Heartcarver axe will be LENT not GIVEN. I love the conversation because there is a time limit (Puck warns them the city is becoming restless due to their presence) and it is a moment that gives a great opportunity for me to play a devil like a sneaky lawyer, definitely a potential ally, but an ally with an angle. The fact that we get to roleplay out creating the contract, even though it is a brief moment, is a fun challenge that relies purely on roleplaying and not dice. A nice moment comes too when Puck doesn’t trust the players know Alyss and Aldric proves they do by showing her miniaturized bike. Just a nice use of a player acquired item!

In the next session, the players may get to suplex a train. Keep reading!

[virstellae-blog]

headcanons.

she’s tired more than not because of many reasons including a mild perfectionist streak, absolute dedication to her work, insomnia, and a lingering sense of paranoia after having been betrayed by someone with her complete and implicit trust. when she’s worked four shifts in a row, it’s generally a good idea to send someone to forcibly dismiss her…and maybe bring her some soup. 

carol isn’t afraid of blood- that’s silly. but being around it does start to make her feel light headed and nauseous, especially if she has to be in close range of it. it’s put a serious dampener on her first aid training, but she can deal with it if absolutely needed and she’ll be the last to volunteer. the dislike originates from when she fell off a fence when she was six and ended up with a cut that made her bone visible, leaving the image vivid in her memory. anything but red blood and she’s okay. 

in light of her dislike for blood and love for her father, alexander marcus’ fate was particularly traumatising. even with what he had done, carol spent a lifetime loving him and while the last few hours of his life revealed what he was like truly, it’s a difficult task to separate the admiral from the father. she held it together quite well until that night when she ran out of work to do; then her mind started replaying the image of khan crushing her father’s skull like a watermelon over and over. she was signed up for therapy the next week when her hands wouldn’t stop shaking and she almost hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

by the time the Enterprise launched again with her on board, the shakes had mostly stopped and her nightmares diminished. she still doesn’t sleep well most nights and suffers from a lingering sense of minor paranoia at times.

carol recognises the benefits and privilege she has received through just being born as admiral marcus’ daughter. from an early age she was surrounded by the powerful of starfleet; even referring to some as aunts and uncles as she grew up. she doesn’t mention this fact, and won’t use the connections she has unless the situation could result in the deaths of others; how far she has gotten within starfleet is all due to her own hard work, and it’s a point of pride for her. she’s just like anybody else in the ‘fleet. 

carol burns quickly under the sun- always has, always will. it’s the curse of having such fair kin. she’s constantly carrying sunscreen with with her and has a fairly rigorous skin care regime to help take care of it. she also bruises easily and collects a new bruise every day, often without realising it; when she was younger she was screened for possible diseases or disorders, but was given a clean bill of health. she’s learned to live with the looks her decidedly mottled legs get.

honest to god carol has no idea what to do with a baby. no idea at all. she never really interacted with one before having david and she spent the months before he was born trying to get some idea of how to parent. that said, she’ll coo at her son- ‘who’s a lil mess?’- but won’t coo at other babies. 

it’s not like carol deliberately sets out to neglect her basic needs like regular food, sleep, or social interaction– it just happens that her job is also her hobby and she likes to keep busy. the work is fascinating to her most of the time and she just gets sucked into it and can’t let go of her focus until she meets whatever goal she’s set for herself.

the social part is because its taken her a while to develop the skills most develop in their childhood, she doesn’t actually need much of it and most of it’s provided by her friendly working relationships. friendship is something she…doesn’t do well at times, because she’ll forget all about arrangements in favour of work and she sometimes struggles with appropriate responses. and finding topics to talk about that others are interested in. honestly, 80% of the time her social need could be filled by sitting in silence with someone as she reads.

occasionally she gets chatty, but that normally means she’s nervous.

her first girlfriend was ‘anya’, a russian student studying at MIT to become an engineer like her father. their relationship lasted from 17 until 19 when they broke up. they reconnected years later at starfleet where carol was working on her doctorate and anya had just graduated. their time was ended abruptly when anya died above vulcan in 2258. 

carol doesn’t enter into any relationship ( romantic, sexual, both, neither ) with the expectation of permanency. the simple fact is that she is too dedicated to work and that will always come before anyone else. relationships simply aren’t the priority and most can’t deal with that long term. but while she is with someone, she makes sure to treasure every moment she can even if it’ll just hurt more when everything comes to an end eventually. 

fun fact about carol: the most fun you can have at fancy starfleet shingdings, she knows all the best gossip about the flag staff. she’d better, since she’s been hanging around near their offices since she was ten. 

small things: carol’s favourite classical composer is dmitri shostakovich. hates banana, but loves peach. wishes she could dance, but has two left feet and no time to learn. loves camping. loves paper books and pens and how they smell. wants a place of her own filled with sunlight and with a solar. likes plants more than she likes people most of the time.

carol, while she does get along with her mother, step-father and half-sister, stays in what contact she can- but won’t ask them for anything at all. this is because her younger sister has a neurological condition and needs her parents more than what carol could ever consider herself needing them. she also concluded shortly after her sister’s birth that her mother preferred her second family to her. it was this conclusion that led to her moving to america for her teenage years and becoming even closer with her father.

                                    ( june doesn’t understand why her daughter is so distant. she loves                                    her eldest and would do anything for her. but carol never tells her                                     anything past ‘i’m fine’ and ‘work is fine’. she doesn’t find out about                                    david until he’s nearly nine months old and that hurts. ) 

when carol is underway, she sleeps in a tank top and sweats- when she doesn’t just face plant into her bed, uniform and all. when she’s sleeping at home, wherever it is- she prefers to sleep naked. she’d do it on the ship, but red alerts are a thing and shoving clothes on can take too long.

or, in both cases, she’ll steal something of her partner’s to wear. usually their shirt. 

the only thing carol’s allergic to is cinnamon. if she eats it her face, lips and tongue tingle, swell up and start itching like crazy. luckily that’s as bad as it gets.

INTERESTING PHYSICAL THINGS: fingers? cold. ears? cold. toes? cold. sits on her feet to keep them warm often. sticks them under her friends to keep them warm. scarred hands. shiny burn marks too. doesn’t want to do anything about them, they’re the badges of her job. short nails, always painted blue or black. mole on her back she never remembers to get checked. flexible. main form of exercise is yoga and tai chi. natural sprinter. hates running. still does it. rare migraines. 

MORE SMALL BITS ABOUT CAROL: isolates herself quickly if she perceives that she’s stepped too far. loves high heels not for the height they give her, but for the confidence boost. doesn’t own much in the way of casual clothing. still has her childhood teddy bear. loves watermelon flavour, but her favourite is blueberries. leaves sachets of dried lavender with her clothes so they smell of it. doesn’t like dark chocolate at all. 

carol has the suspicion that her mother is a ‘former’ member of s31. she has no proof of it except for a gut feeling. she’s right.

when on the job, carol will only refer to people by their titles- captain, commander, etc. and prefers it to be given in return- but never miss. she’s doctor, or lieutenant. when off the job, what she calls other people depends on how close she perceives them to be- and in order, closest to distant: nickname ( including shortening of name ), name, surname, title. 

carol doesn’t wake up screaming from nightmares ( although it does happen on the rare occasion ). more often than not she jerks awake and freezes until she can either make herself move again, or is helped ( one of the reasons she sleeps better with someone else around ). 

slams fist carol never learned how to vocalise emotional needs or wants. her mother tried, but carol’s natural aversion compounded by her father’s belief ( and thus her own belief for a long time ) in presenting only a public face to people means she never really got the hang of it. which is sad, because she can be quite touchy-feely and likes contact more than she believes she should.

how to friend carol: reassure her almost every time you speak that she’s allowed to talk about herself, and that you’re interested in her, and not just her value as a scientist.

also: learn sign language. sometimes she stops being able to word out loud but can do perfectly fine with her hands for some reason.