#crime fanfic
Text
Burning Out • VII
Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader
I was lost, but now I'm found
Under the lights and in the sounds
So let us sing and sing it loud
That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.
Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.
Words: 4.6k
Warnings: 18+, explicit language, violence, guns, car crash
Authors note: Chapter Seven - Redwine: eeeeeee, sorry this one isn't as long as most of them! It's very action packed and I felt like it was already a lot to digest tbh lol. I do hope you enjoy tho! Song is Redwine by unprocesses (10/10 recommend listening, especially at the end hehe) (I stayed up till 2am writing this which is very bad because I really should sleep but yolo!)
THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <3
Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant @veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @thescarlettvvitch @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs @flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls
Noah jumped on the floor as his hair whipped around, feeling the intro and the crowd cheered, before he gripped the mic stand, preparing to sing.
“Mine immaculate dream
Made breath and skin, I've been waiting for you
Signed, with a home tattoo
Happy birthday to you was created for you.”
I bobbed my head, proud as guests began singing along. It wasn’t until Noah’s voice became deeper and raspier with the chorus that I smiled wider, heart hammering as he sang, watching me periodically from the stand.
“Who do you need? Who do you love
When you come undone?
Who do you need? Who do you love
When you come undone?”
The evening went on as the boys covered various songs, before getting ready to perform their last song for the night.
“Thank you guys so much for jamming along!” Noah yelled before sipping his water bottle, “It’s about to get heavy, so I want to see you mother fuckers headbang!”
The crowd cheered as Noah introduced Glass Houses, and the song began.
I banged my head with the music as their hair flew in spirals, pulling out my phone to record them.
As I opened my phone I saw a text message from an unknown number. Clicking on it my stomach immediately dropped as my limbs warmed with complete terror.
Los Angeles, hey? It’s about time we booked a vacation anyway. See you soon, my volto x
+++++
U̧̢̼̹͓͇̮͈͕̰͑͗ͭ̂̐̓̾̇̑̀̑̌̅̈͟͢͞Ń̷̙͎͍̘͈̰̫̫̭̼͇̻̱͈̝̇͐̌ͧͥ̅͑̏̈̐̉ͫ͝͡͠K̷̴̷̸͇̤̝̥͓̤̖̣̇̏ͭ̇̇̍ͨ͞_̸̸̨̡͎̭̄NͨO̅͆WͨŅ̷̢̮̣̰͚̝̮ͫ̑̾ͤ͌̉̀ͧͪͅͅ
The square room was grim and damp, the cracked cement floor and torn wooden walls uninviting.
It was a place rarely used, but necessary in times such as these. It had been almost a year since it held a visitor, but the chair chained to the ground in the middle of the room remained untouched, ready for its guest.
I nodded at the men who trailed behind me, dropping the duffle bag of items to the ground.
Stale air hung heavily and I smiled, the waves from the water outside echoing along the corridor.
The perfect place to keep a body.
+̴̡̧̹̿̊̇̀̾̽̉̈́̾̓̚͘+̶̧̻̰̣̳͉̈́̐͛̏̐͆+̷̝̻̗͖̞̗̟̬̉͆́̓͒̀̐̽̐̚͘͝+̸̨̡̡͓͚̱̲̻͚̭̙̩̤̐ͅ+̷̨͈̗̾͒̑͝
NOAH
After our performance finished the five of us left, packing ourselves and the equipment into the van.
Jolly, Ruffilo and Folio were extremely giddy, excitement radiating off of them. At first, I felt this way too, the adrenaline rushing through me from how well it went, and how receptive our audience was. We even had a few people take photos with us, something that surprised me.
But these feelings were short-lived once I noticed Y/N’s behaviour: anxious and detached.
Y/N barely looked at any of us after the show, and she silently waited in the car, eyes glued to her phone.
I waited to ask until we were on the road towards home, her body placed between me and Ruffilo in the middle row of the van. Nicholas noticed her off demeanour as well, his eyes flicking between me and her, nodding his head towards her as he silently cued me to ask what was wrong.
My eyes furrowed at him as I shook my head back, nodding at him to ask her. They’ve gotten close, he might as well do it.
Nicholas rolled his eyes as he shrugged his shoulders, nodding at me once more.
“What are you two doing?” Y/N sighed quietly, looking up from her phone and turning her head between the two of us.
“Uh,” I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my head, “well we are both a little worried about you,” I admitted.
Y/N stared at me intensely, chewing on her lip in contemplation. Her face scrunched as conflict arose on her features before she handed me her phone. The screen was bright against the midnight darkness that cascaded around the vehicle. I looked down at the message displayed on the screen, my chest pounding as I read the words.
“Do you know who sent this?” I asked as my eyes widened in worry.
“Sent what?” Nicholas leaned over Y/N, attempting to read the screen. I don’t know if Y/N told the boys what she told me; so I closed the phone, handing it back to her.
She opened the phone again before passing it to Nicholas, and his own face contorted before staring at Y/N, “Volto?”
Y/N sighed again, knowing she would have to repeat everything she told me earlier, “I have a lot to explain to you guys… but for now, I’m not sure who sent the message.”
“Well it has to be someone who knows about the mask,” I suggested before turning my attention to Jolly who groaned in annoyance, staring out the rearview mirror while he clutched the steering wheel.
“God damn asshole, riding my ass.”
Folio looked out the side mirror, matching Jolly’s tone, “What a dick.”
I ignored them, eyeing Y/N, “Do you think it’s one of the Fidelio guys?”
“One of the twins, probably,” She watched back carefully, her eyes becoming distant as she became quiet, “And if it is, I’m fucked.”
I shook my head, my hand trailing down to hold onto her thigh gently, “I will let nothing happen to you.” I squeezed my fingers reassuringly, “I’ll keep you safe.”
She gave me a warm smile as her arm began to shake from the anxiety.
“Can this guy seriously fuck off?” Jolly now growled angrily through gritted teeth, tapping the brakes firmly as a warning which sent our bodies forward from the momentum.
“Dude don’t break-check them,” Nick warned from the passenger seat, holding onto the dashboard, “They’ll hit the gear in the trunk if they smash into us.”
Y/N and Nicholas turned to look out the back window, glaring at the car that rode almost against our bumper. I peeked from the side mirror, watching the headlight’s blind reflection shine against us.
Jolly revved the engine, accelerating against the gas pedal to speed up in an attempt to get away. The car behind followed suit, pulling up to us once again.
I scoffed, leaning forward to look at the speedometer, “Jesus Christ. You’re going the speed limit, right?”
“Of course I am Idiot. I don’t know what this fucker’s problem is,” Jolly’s grip tightened on the wheel as he kept looking back.
“Just make a right,” Nicholas stated as he continued watching behind, “let them pass us; I don’t want anyone getting hurt. We can turn back after.”
Jolly groaned in frustration as he signalled in agreeance, turning at the next light. As we did, the car behind followed suit and we watched in confusion.
“Uh hello?” Jolly yelled, shaking his head. He took another right, and the car followed us down the street once again.
“Are they…following us?” I squinted at the mirror again intensely, eying the lights.
“Jolly,” Y/N said, her breath hitching, “Take another right…”
He agreed, and the car still followed.
“One more,” Her voice was quiet now, her hand slipping into mine. Y/N entwined our fingers nervously, her palms clammy. My heart twitched in awe that she wanted to hold my hand.
“If the car turns with us,” she said restlessly, “They’re following us… because then we will be on the same road as before.”
My leg bounced as I watched this unfold, Nicholas and I peering at each other as we turned right. I sucked in an anticipated breath as there were no lights following for a moment; but then the same car turned the corner, speeding up to us.
“Shit,” Jolly pushed the gas pedal, sending the car forward. Y/N turned to look at me with worry, and I couldn’t help but match her expression. I held her hand firmly, my other gripping the handle that hung from the roof.
“Do you think-” Y/N’s voice wavered as she clung to me, “It’s them?”
Nicholas watched, confused, “Who? What is going on?”
“Jolly, step on it,” Nick yelled.
“Actually I was thinking of pulling over and chatting- Of course I’m fucking stepping on it!” Jolly mumbled in miffed anger, turning again.
The street light up ahead flashed yellow and the van rumbled beneath as Jolly floored it to make the light in time. The chase intensified as he navigated through the chaos of the city. Y/N squeezed my hand nervously and leaned into my side.
“We need to get out of town- who knows what’ll happen if we have to stop at a red light,” Nicholas huffed, turning back and forth between us and the car.
“Well, I ain’t stopping at a red light regardless,” Jolly turned the vehicle again, our bodies swaying with the velocity, “but hold on.”
It was a race down the vacant streets as we hastily sped past various buildings. They became a blur, before completely disappearing once we reached the outskirts of the city.
“Folio,” I grabbed the back of his seat, pulling my face next to his, “Are the extra masks and guns still in the glovebox?”
Nick opened the glovebox and Y/N’s pills spilled out, rolling onto the floor. I frowned for a brief moment before watching Nick reach for the fabric that lay inside. He passed each of us a mask, except Y/N, before handing me the gun.
I pulled out the clip, checking that I had enough rounds. Clicking it back in, I slipped the black mask over my face, Nicholas and Nick following.
I peered at Y/N through the holes of the mask, her eyes widening with fear.
“What’s the plan?” Nick asked from the front, rummaging underneath the seat for a moment before pulling out another gun. He passed it to Nicholas, who slid it into his waistband.
I watched the car’s erratic movements as it swayed with us, mimicking our every twist and turn.
“Pull off the road and confront them?” Nicholas suggested, and I snickered, rolling down the window.
“Time to play a game,” I muttered, unbuckling my seatbelt.
“Noah-” Y/N gripped my wrist, holding me, “What are you doing?”
I pulled away from her grip, “Warning shots. Maybe get a tire or two.”
I turned my body so I was facing the back, before pulling my head out of the window. The wind whipped past the back of my body forcefully as the car drove hastily along the road, my arm wobbling through the instability of the speed. My other hand remained holding onto the handle inside, attempting to ground myself, to avoid falling out of the moving car.
I held up the gun, pointing it toward the car that trailed behind tauntingly. Without hesitating I pulled the trigger, my finger grazing the metal as it fired. My wrist moved subtly with the kickback and I watched the bullet bounce off the pavement before I shot another, now hitting the hood of the car. The metal twanged in response, small sparks flying.
The vehicle swerved, attempting to avoid my shots as I fired a few more. The drivers slowed down for a second before speeding up, ignoring my threat.
I snarled at their resilience, firing another shot that then flew into the left headlight, burning it out. The car sped up again, this time pulling up right into the bumper.
They were going to try and hit us off the road.
“Fuck,” I muttered angrily, slipping back inside the car. I clicked my seatbelt into place, checking Y/N’s and making sure it was secure.
“So clearly they’re not backing off!” Nick screamed through the sound of the engine, and Jolly yelled at him.
“No shit!”
With a surge of determination, Jolly gripped the steering wheel tightly and pushed down on the accelerator one last time, determined to escape the chaos unfolding behind us. My heart hammered as I watched Jolly push the van to its limits, and the race against time and fate left Y/N uneasy beside me.
“I can’t go fast enough in this piece of shit they’re gonna hit us,” Jolly blared, knuckles whitening, “Hold on!”
Jolly slowed in an attempt to brace for impact, and the car behind us rammed into our bumper, the screeching of tires filling the air as our vehicle swerved to the side. The world seemed to slow as our bodies swung, our van colliding with the car of the unknown. I reached for Y/N, our fingers barely able to entwine as my lungs collapsed, my breath escaping me in complete shock.
The air was thick with the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline, my mind in a haze. Our van spun into the cement barricade that bordered the highway and the impact sent debris flying in all directions, the shockwave of the collision reverberating within my body. Glass from the windows shattered around us, spraying like glitter in the moonlight as the impact jolted the five of us forward. Time was still as the turmoil unfolded in a split second, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.
As my head throbbed and ears rang, the faint taste of blood lingered on my tongue. Dust and debris filled the air as whiplash consumed me, and I peered at Y/N whose body hung folded over the middle seat.
“Y/N-” I coughed, choking on the lack of oxygen that fought to fill my lungs. I reached for her, my knuckles torn from the glass. The world began to fade away as I pushed myself toward her, gripping her body.
“Y/N,” I yelled, and she groaned, her head flopping towards me. A trail of crimson trickled from her forehead, dirt coating her features. She coughed and sucked in a shaky breath, before her E/C eyes opened, landing on me.
“Noah,” She whispered, barely audible as she blinked slowly, coming to. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and the shock of the situation hit like a ton of bricks as I remembered the situation seconds prior. Whoever hit us was surely going to get to us any second.
I pulled away from Y/N’s grip slowly, leaning down as my head spun, searching for the gun.
“Ruffles-” Y/N turned to him with worry, moving slowly as she placed a hand on both sides of his face, checking the cuts that dug into his skin.
Nicholas moaned in pain as he responded, and my eyes followed his gaze towards Jolly and Folio. Both airbags had exploded, their heads lying against the white canvas that was gradually beginning to deflate. Were they alive?
My heart raced as I gripped the gun lying on the floor, before attempting to push myself between the seats, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, “Nick? Jolly?”
“What the fuck,” Nick murmured in pain and I sighed in relief once I heard his voice, before poking Jolly. He let out a loud grunt.
The van was in complete shambles, and I struggled to free myself from the twisted metal and broken glass that surrounded us. I kicked open the backseat door and crawled out of the car, my hands landing on the cool asphalt. The dimly lit surroundings cast eerie shadows, adding to the disorientation and vulnerability as I stood up, scoping out the scene.
The car that followed us was barely smashed on the other side of the road; both front doors opened once I was in view. A gunshot flew past my ear, ricocheting off the cement.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered under my breath, ducking behind the wreckage of the van. I peered into the vehicle as Y/N rubbed her eyes, “They’re firing at us!”
Nick pushed the door open, his body rolling onto the ground, groaning, “The gun,” He swayed, pulling himself up, searching the car with a hand, “Ruffilo! Give me the gun!”
More shots were fired from behind and I covered my head, looking back at Y/N who hid in Nicholas’ chest, completely afraid. He gripped her tightly, protecting her head as he threw the gun to Folio, who cocked it, placing his back against the torn metal.
Jolly yelled at Nick to move as he crawled from the driver’s seat to the passengers, sliding out, and hiding behind the debris, “We need to form a plan!”
“There’s no time,” I growled, closing my eyes as my breath heaved from my chest, anticipating the worst as the shots got closer and closer, bouncing between the road and the metal of the car.
I got down on the ground, my knees rubbing against the rock as I peeked around what was left of the bumper. Amongst the dust from the collision two figures appeared from the smoke, their black suits slick and barely untouched- comical.
My eyes squinted in recognition as I looked at their heads, the slick silver sheen glinting from the moonlight. The muzzle was long, and the ears appeared sharp and pointy, followed by a set of painted black features.
Fox masks covered their identity, the two walking in sync towards us.
The article. The Twins.
“Noah-” Jolly hunched over, his breathing erratic as his tattered long hair peeked from beneath the mask he now slid over his face, “Who is it?”
My mind skimmed to a conclusion as I scooted back, “They’re here for Y/N. We need to get her away from here, or at least distract them till she can run.”
“N0,” Y/N pulled herself from Nicholas, tears streaming down her face. She peered out the broken window, a hand climbing to her mouth as she held it there in fear once she saw them, “You guys need to run. They want me, I don’t need you getting hurt.”
I shook my head, cocking the gun, “I told you I would protect you. I will not go back on my word.”
“No, you don’t understand,” She almost screamed in dread, “That has to be Kiean and Kade. They used to tell me if shit hit the fan, they’d turn to the fox masks.”
“What does that mean?” I shook my head in confusion, looking at them once again before turning my attention to Y/N.
“They twisted an old Indigenous legend of the fox twins,” She said, watching them as she spoke, “instead of the twins growing as heroes from their demise, they strive for revenge.”
I pulled at the fabric that covered my face, readjusting it before standing up. I dropped the loaded gun next to my foot, before revealing myself from behind the car.
“Noah!” She yelled, but I continued walking out, holding my hands up.
The one on the right pointed the gun at me, my throat aching from the adrenaline as I heaved nervously.
“Where is she,” His voice was muffled from the mask, deep and antagonizing as he held the threat menacingly.
I shook my head, hands held up high in surrender, “Who the hell are you talking about?”
“You think I’m stupid?” The man scoffed, turning his head to look at his companion before back at me.
“You assholes were following us. I don’t know who you’re talking about and what you want.” my demeanour was cold, and overly calm considering the circumstances. I was a ticking time bomb, ready to lunge at any second.
A deep laugh erupted behind the same mask, “I will shoot you. Get her out here.”
I scoffed, lowering my hands, “Look, we don’t have anything you want. So, I think we’re done here.”
The gun pointed toward me clicked, and I swallowed harshly, staring at the barrel.
“Y/N,” The man said, her name foreign and vile as it trailed from his mouth. He knew she was there.
I dared not to look at the car behind me, but I noticed a figure move from my peripheral. No Y/N, don’t.
“Again,” I laughed, mocking them with stupidity, “There’s only four of us- and this Y/N person isn’t one-”
The man then took quick steps forward with the gun, and before I knew it Y/N shouted, exposing herself as she stood in front of me, guarding my chest.
“NO!”
Fuck.
The fox tilted his head as the gun was now placed in front of Y/N’s forehead, her shoulders heaving with her erratic breaths. Her arms were out protectively toward the men as she placed herself between death and remorse; the other gun from the car within her grasp. My stomach swirled with unease and liability.
Seconds felt like minutes as we stood there; but finally, his weapon lowered, arm slowly resting against his side. His free hand reached underneath the bottom of the plastic that covered his head, peeling off the layer of false anonymity.
Dull green eyes met mine, the repulsion behind them dissolving me from the inside out. His gaze was almost feral as his lip turned into a snarl at my presence; he didn’t dare look away as he spoke.
“This?” he scoffed, appalled, “You moved on to this piece of shit?”
The wavy head of dirty blonde hair that sat on his head was paired with a straight upturned nose, slight facial hair, and a nose ring. He was the definition of a pretty-white boy surfer, and my eyes narrowed.
“Fucking whore.” He spit as he then stared at Y/N, his jaw clenching. The muscles in his neck tightened as he watched her viciously.
“Kade,” The next voice warned, and I peered at the twin who stood behind him. As he took his mask off I swore I heard Y/N gasp ever so lightly, the gun in her grasp lowering slightly.
This man looked almost identical to the one looming over us; except his hair was to his shoulders, the top tied back into a small bun. His eyes seemed softer- gentler. The emerald gaze was more vibrant as he stared at her; until he met mine.
“Please,” Y/N’s voice wavered, “Let him go. Take me, but let him go.”
“Why?” Kade laughed, tapping the gun against his thigh, “you care about him?”
Kade stepped forward, and Y/N stepped back, pushing into my torso.
“Hmm?” He taunted.
“I- you don’t need to do anything irrational,” She held up her hands. She was afraid.
“This your new toy?” The blonde’s words began digging into her, but his eyes remained on me.
She hiccuped, holding her hands up in front of her face in defence as he got closer to us.
“You’re fucking him now?” He roared.
“K-Kiean,” She stuttered, almost in a plea toward the other twin.
Kiean.
As I went to move in front of her, the back of Kade’s hand swung into Y/N’s head, the handle of the gun cutting the skin above her lip. She clutched her face as she stumbled backward, falling onto the asphalt. The gun slid across the road.
Anger rose from my chest instantly, “Don’t you fucking touch her,” My voice dripped with venom, and without thinking I held my arm up, sending a forceful blow into the side of Kade’s neck.
As if a bomb went off, he lunged for me, my back sliding onto the cement as he fell on top of me, “I want to see your pathetic face,” He screamed, his anger ripping from his throat as he began punching my chest, clawing at the fabric that covered me.
The air I had left was dispersing from my lungs as I began rolling with him, punching him back.
“Noah!” Y/N screamed as she scrambled to her feet, running toward me; but the other twin grabbed her, caging her in his arms. She thrashed aggressively, attempting to free herself.
I heard the shuffling of footsteps from the side and Jolly appeared, throwing himself into Kade’s body. Nick was right behind, picking me up as Nicholas ran toward Y/N and Kiean.
A gunshot ripped through the air and everybody froze, my ears ringing with anticipation.
Time slowed once again as I looked up at Y/N.
Kiean held Y/N firmly, the gun pointed at her head. Tears of terror began brimming her eyes as she grabbed at the suit covering his arm.
I exhaled quickly as I watched Y/N; the fear in her eyes radiating back at me- hopeless. I shook my head, licking my lips in panic; I needed her. It took everything in me not to run toward her as the gun pressed vehemently into her skull.
“Don’t move,” Kiean said, slowly backing towards the car. Kade quickly got his feet, scurrying away from Jolly and following his copy. Kade grabbed the gun that Y/N had dropped, pointing it toward the four of us.
“Noah-” Y/N cried, her body convulsing in her captor’s arms as he dragged her closer to the car.
Her lips trembled as she screamed her last word before Kiean put her in the car, “Run.”
Kade began to fire at us and we ducked, running back to the smashed van for shelter as bullets flew past us. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as adrenaline washed through me once again. I wanted to yell, I wanted to cry. I wanted to run to Y/N, and I wanted to tell her it would all be okay.
But I couldn’t- she was gone.
And I was a coward.
A useless fucking coward.
The gunshots ceased as the engine revved, doors slamming as the sound of wheels spinning out filled the midnight scene. The car began racing down the road, taking Y/N with them.
My saving grace.
Our heavy breathing was all I could hear as I squeezed my eyes shut, an angry scream crawling from my lungs. I threw my mask to the grounds.
+++++
The leaves crunched beneath my feet as I waded, tears brimming my eyes. I placed the white flower on top of the stone, sighing as I sniffed and sat down. The dying grass was wet beneath my legs, but I didn’t care.
“It’s been a while,” I whispered, lowering my head towards my deaf listeners. The breeze swirled through my hair, my brunette locks swaying gently with each gust. I zipped up my black jacket, placing my hands into the pockets.
“I met a nice girl,” I laughed ever so softly, her image filling my mind. I closed them once the memory of two nights ago crashed through her smile, blurring the good and bad.
“And I already fucked up,” I wiped my nose as my throat tightened, “I tainted her.”
The wind whistled between the graves as if responding.
I picked at the grass for a moment, playing nervously with the strands I pulled from the dirt, “she’s gone. I don’t know how to find her.”
My vision blurred as silent tears fell, and my head bowed again.
“I miss you, mom.” I used my sleeve to dry my cheeks, “and you, dad.”
The three of us sat in silence, the trees above the cemetery singing with the autumn air. I spoke to them for a few more minutes. I tried to make it quick, knowing that if I stayed longer I wouldn't be able to leave.
“I hope you get to meet her someday,” I murmured as I stood, dusting off my pants.
“I’d like to hear about this girl.”
My stomach dropped as I whipped around in alarm, my heart thumping rapidly once I met his silver completion.
+++++
U̧̢̼̹͓͇̮͈͕̰͑͗ͭ̂̐̓̾̇̑̀̑̌̅̈͟͢͞Ń̷̙͎͍̘͈̰̫̫̭̼͇̻̱͈̝̇͐̌ͧͥ̅͑̏̈̐̉ͫ͝͡͠K̷̴̷̸͇̤̝̥͓̤̖̣̇̏ͭ̇̇̍ͨ͞_̸̸̨̡͎̭̄NͨO̅͆WͨŅ̷̢̮̣̰͚̝̮ͫ̑̾ͤ͌̉̀ͧͪͅͅ
Soon, I’ll kill my final piece of evidence… and soon, I’ll have control of Fidelio.
+̴̡̧̹̿̊̇̀̾̽̉̈́̾̓̚͘+̶̧̻̰̣̳͉̈́̐͛̏̐͆+̷̝̻̗͖̞̗̟̬̉͆́̓͒̀̐̽̐̚͘͝+̸̨̡̡͓͚̱̲̻͚̭̙̩̤̐ͅ+̷̨͈̗̾͒̑͝
We couldn’t save our lives but we’re here
Drunk and fucked up so in love what we once had
Now it’s over, one last time here
On the streets but they lead nowhere
Time and time again we were not thankful for our gifts
Things we took for granted like a sweet kiss on your lips
We could have been at the start of our days but it ends
Stories have been told
You’re so pretty when you’re drunk
In a world like that
Chapter 8
#bad omens#noah sebastian#bad omens cult#bad omens band#noah sebastian davis#burning out fanfic#nick folio#nicholas ruffilo#nick ruffilo#sorrows of silence#burning out#crime#crime fanfic
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The Book of Boba Fett fanrewrite. Chapter 1. The Daimyo of Tatooine
Summary: A simple retelling of TBOBF I wrote to improve my writting. Doesn’t include any exciting plot changes (yet). But feel free to read if you like reading devoloping writers and (hopefully) seeing them improve.
Tw: Mentions of r*cism, Mentions of s*xism, D*ath, M*rder.
A/n: This is the first fanfic I’ve posted in years so please be kind to me lol. Also not a native english speaker and dyslexic so fair warning. Super thankfull for any interactions and lmk if you wanna become moots!!! ((: <3
Not a single word was uttered as Bib Fortunas lifeless corpse laid on the palace floor. Both staff and patrons alike stared upon the throne in the center of the room, as Boba Fett took his seat. It had been years since Han Solos escape, and as daimyo Bib had made sure to let all of Tatooine know of both Jabbas, and Fetts perishing during the ordeal. In all fairness it had seemed like Fett for sure was finished when he got swallowed by the sarlacc, and telling people that you survived the same fight that claimed the life of what might have been the galaxys fearces bounty hunter, served Bib well while establishing himself as the new crime lord of the small desert planet. However, Boba Fett was never the one to count out. Thanks to stone hard determination and his beskar armor set, was Boba Fett able to escape the belly of the monstrous beast. It took some time to get his bearings back, and he wasn’t any longer the man he once was, but the moment he had escaped the jaws of Tatooines feared sarlacc, he knew what he needed to do. If he was no longer going to be the galaxys most esteemed bounty hunter, he would become its most respected crime lord.
Jabbas throne was big, Not shocking as it was designed for a Hutt. As Boba Fett leaned back making himself comfortable in it. Fennec Shand leaned on to one of its oversized armrests. Fennec was a highly regarded bounty hunter in her own right, but following a fight with another famed Mandalorian she too had suffered serious injuries. Maybe it was finding each other during such vulnerable times, that was what led Boba and Fennec to grow so fond of one another. Fond might be a bit too strong of a word for their relationship. They did not go to pod races together, they didn’t spend their weekends trying to sober up and drag the other one out of the cantina after one too many drinks. No, they simply shared some similar experiences. Experiences that though not being rare amongst their profession, were rare to be shown sympati for. Especially from another bounty hunter. But thanks to this understanding between them, Boba and Fennec were committed to together reach their goal of taking charge of the criminal underworld of the little speck of sand in the Outer Rims known as Tattoine.
“Listen up, you all work for me now”. Bobas voice took hold of the room with the same force as the man himself had just minutes earlier as he blasted his way in and killed daimyo Bib Fortuna. Violence being an inherent part of life in Mos Espa had preemptively prepared the palaces workers for this scenario. Violence equals power equals control. And it was clear to all that Boba Fett was the one in control right now. “You there! Clean this up”. The new daimyo yelled at a Gamorrean guard while casually waving his boot in the direction of his predecessors corpse. The green pig-like creature picked up the body of the man he had been serving under for the past five years and walked through the palace all without showing a single emotion. The light of the twin suns simmered into the corridor windows as the appointed guard walked his way out to the backside of the infamous castle of crime. “Hrrkg”. It’s hard to tell the difference between a Gamorrean sighing and speaking, and even when he was alive Bib had never bothered to learn it. Neither had Jabba. Talking to themselves had become normal for the guards. Indifferently the forest colored alien through his former bosses corpse down the edge of the cliff on which the palace was built. The desert heat scorching the lifeless body at the bottom of the ravine. “To the rest of you, I want this place looking respectable for your new daimyo ones I return”. Boba ordered sternly as he got out of the throne he’d just claimed, walking out to the streets of Mos Espa with Fennec at his side.
“So what now”? He asked in a noticeably softer tone. “We make our rounds, let the people of Tatooine meet their new ruler”. Fennec answered, focused. The whispers were so many that they together sounded like shouts. Everyone had something to say as the famed and long presumed dead bounty hunter made his way through town. “No way. It’s an imposter, it has to be”. “Mom, mom!!! Who is that”? It was clear that no matter how hard the people tried to keep on with what they were doing, the return of Boba Fett had everyone on edge. Overhearing the curious kid questioning their mother, Boba made his way over to them leaning down to face the child. The youth stared into the sightline of the mandalorian mask. “I am Boba Fett”. He declared with an unusually warm voice before standing back up. “...And I am the new daimyo of Tatooine”! He declared for all bystanders to hear now in a much harsher tone. The same silence that had fallen in the palace was now to be found on the main street of Mos Espa. But unlike earlier at the palace, Boba was not the one to break the silence.
“Hahaha”. A loud and boastful laughter was the only thing heard as the people of Tatooine stood frozen in fear and suspense. Turning around to see who would dare to disrespect him like that Boba saw an older man standing tall and unwavering in the self proclaimed crime lords presence. “This planet hasn’t had a real daimyo since Hutt. Fortuna might not be half as influential as Jabba but if you think he’s going to allow you to walk around his streets for another hour you’re-“. “Bib Fortuna was shot dead by Boba Fett this afternoon”. Fennec interrupted assertively. The man looked noticeably less smug. But that did not stop him from talking back to the two legendary bounty hunters. “He only controlled a third of the territories, good luck taking on the families”. The continued back talk started to get on Bobas nerves. He took a sturdy step towards the mouthy man. “They will submit, or they will die. Just like the rest of you”. Bobas voice once again captivated the crowd. “Understood”? He asked, staring down the heckler. “Yes, my daimyo”. He replied, while looking away from the green and red helmet covering the face of the man that had just claimed his home planet. Without saying a word Boba and Fennec went back to walking down the same busy street, just as full but almost completely quiet this time.
As the pair continued their round they got to downtown Mos Espa. The rumors of Boba Fett having returned, and laid claim to areas belonging to his former employer Jabba the Hutt were already spreading across the town. Being an effective and influential daimyo not only meant that one should be respected by ordinary citizens, but also by the other prominent figures of the community. It was for that reason Fennec and Boba deemed Sanctuary as their next stop. Sanctuary, as the name might imply, was one of the few peaceful places at the center of Tatooine. The casino managed to be the only place where people could drink and gamble without it escalating into blaster fights and bar brawls. The fact that Sanctuary managed to become the actual sanctuary that it was, was all thanks to one woman, Madam Garsa Fwip. Garsa was an abnormality in the criminal underworld. An established and respected Twi'lek woman was not the norm among cantina owners. In fact many of them shared a saying, “Twi’lek girls belong on the poles or on their knees”. The fact that she ran such a profitable and well managed business in spite of the racism and sexism she faced might have been what led the people to realize just how tough she really was.
Warm and hospital feel from the live band playing Space Jizz and customers chatting could make just about anyone feel relaxed. Boba unconsciously relaxed his armored clad shoulders as he and Fennec walked into Sanctuary. Through the bustling bar crowd Madam Fwip effortlessly stood out. Thanks to both a tall and slender build, as well as a pair of heels expensive enough to rival that of a queen or a senator, the two directly laid eyes on her. And she, on them. The cantina owner made her way to greet her establishment's newest guest. “Lord Fett”. She said doing curtsy to the man. No one could argue that Boba Fetts presence wasn’t huge. But in actuality he, and the rest of the clones of Jango Fett stod quite short. The pink hued Twi’lek stood above him, but that did not hinder her from treating him as her superior. Letting men feel in power around her was something Garsa was used to. And it had come to serve her well, no matter how often it could feel demeaning. Why reveal a strong hand when your opponent already deems it weak. “Please, allow us to clean your helmets. On the house of course. Two other Twi'leks, one green and the other blue, relieved Boba and Fennec of their helmets and walked away to clean them.
This was the first time the new daimyo had been without his mask since taking his title. Though aged and somewhat scared there was no mistaking that he was who he said he was. Even though he often had kept his helmet on, his face was still known across the galaxies. Not so surprising since he shared that face with every other clone issued by the former jedi republic. “I presume you’re here to inform me of the new normal around things now that you are the one in charge, let's go to my office”. Garsa led them up a teal colored spiral staircase to the casinos upper floor. The stairs led up to a room filled with tables with people playing sabacc and other games designed to make them lose as much money as possible as fast as possible. “Here”. The hostess stopped in front of a cream colored door that had blended into the wall until she pointed it out. “Will she join us?” She asked, gesturing towards Fennec. “She will”. Boba answered concisely as they made their way into Garsas office.
The room was quiet. For what seemed like pretty thin walls, they isolated sound surprisingly well. At the very end of her office Garsa had a sturdy desk set up with a chair on each side. However at the center stood a lower table with two sofas facing each other. She laid down in one of these sofas, as Boba and Fennec took a seat in the other. “Tell me daimyo, what will life under your rule be like?” The Twi’lek woman asked. For someone not leading the discussion she sure knew how to take charge of it. “All that I ask is that you respect me as your boss, and that you pay your taxes”. Boba established. “Well that won’t be a problem. Serving under anyone other than Fortuna is an improvement”. Garsa replied with a small giggle. Unmoved by the attempt to stroke his ego, Boba Fett continued laying out the conditions on which he planned to rule. “What percentage did you pay him?” “Ten, but he raised it to twelve not too long ago. We’ll be earning you hundreds of thousands of credits a month, no need to worry Lord Fett”. Garsa ensured, proud of running one Tatooines most profitable businesses that didn’t involve freezing people in carbonite. “It’s getting raised again, from now on you’ll be paying twenty”. Boba stated. “Ehh.. Lord Fett, I’m sorry but… with all due respect I don’t see why’d you need that. The money that doesn’t go to your pocket goes back into this place, to ensure that it’ll grow even more profitable for you”. Madam Fwip stutterd shocked by the demands that had been made on her and her business. “Boba Fett is the one who owns this place, just as he is the one who owns the rest of Mos Espa. You are to follow his demands and be grateful he allows you to be in charge of such an important venture of his”. Fennec said without raising her voice. It’s not like that was something a top assassin like her needed to do to get their point across. And across it got. Biting her tongue Garsa Fwip nodded as she accepted the new terms she and her cantina were to serve under. She followed the two out as they got their newly clean and almost shiny helmets back. Fennec walked out first, giving the daimyo and his new subject a short moment for themself. “I’m sure serving under you will be a pleasure Lord Fett”. Garwsa said with a smirk balancing the line between ironic and flirty. “Thank you Madam Fwip, I promise you and the rest of Tatooine are going to fare well under the rule of Boba Fett”.
#the book of boba fett#tbobf#tbobf fanfiction#boba fett#temura morrison#fennec shand#ming na wen#star wars#the mandalorian#fanfic#fanfiction#tatooine#sci fi#mob fanfic#mob#crime fanfic#crime#disney +#new writter#lets be moots#lets be mutuals#need moots#need mutuals#obi wan#obi wan kenobi#madam garsa#garsa fwip#bib fortuna#lol he's really named bib
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It’s okay Aang, eventually (right,,,?🔪)
Ahahaha,,, hahaha,,, sorry @lovelyelbowleech I know there’s more to take away from the last two chapter of War Games but mmmm aaaah hmmm uhhhh
#atla fanart#atla fanfic#avatar: the last airbender#avatar the last airbender#aang#sokka#katara#toph#zukka#war games#war crimes#all’s fair#all’s fair fanart#war games fanart#fic art#fanart#lovelyelbowleech#Gaang#avatar fanart
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imagine like a true crime documentary on percy jackson like
"so this kid and his mom just disappeared one night, car crashed, blood on the scene no bodies"
"oh my god"
"his stepfather believed he was responsible for the whole thing. mind you this kid was TWELEVE"
"that sounds nuts honestly"
"right? so this kid and his mom go missing, step-dad blames him. kid turns up near New Jersey and a bus explodes."
"shut the fuck up? do they have photos of it?"
"yeah, so a tourist snapped his photo because he recognized him from the missing person's report. by the way, this kid's rap sheet is... it's insane. six schools six years. he was expelled the day of the disappearance."
"seriously?!"
"Yeah, I reached out to the school, but they had no further comment. so 5 shows up AGAIN, saint Louis Arch, another explosion. he FELL from the top of the arch."
"how the fuck did he survive that, what the hell?"
"I have no idea, but a family of three saw him jump from the top into the Mississippi."
"That’s insane."
"It gets more insane; so he shows up on a beach near Los Angeles, right after those major earthquakes? He and the two kids he was traveling with, I forgot to mention there are two other children in this story, but their identities have never been revealed."
"That is wild."
"Yeah! The Coast Guard drops them off because they were just... in the ocean."
"How on earth would three kids get there?"
"Some theories are they got swept out when the earthquake hit, they managed to cling to a buoy and wait for rescue."
"They were that far out?"
"Apperently!! So anyway, they get onto the beach. This dude in a trench coat starts blasting at them with a shotgun."
"Jesus Christ."
"And this kid somehow gets another gun, and they just have a shoot out on the beach."
"holy shit."
"Holy shit is right. The big guy manages to hit an exposed gas line from the earthquake, explodes like three cop cars, and by some miracle, no casualties."
"That is so lucky."
"YEAh! So it was determined that this dude orchestrated the whole thing! He was seen by waitresses in Denver outside of a diner, THREATENING all three kids."
"Really? fuck this guy that kid is a hero."
"He really is."
"So did they ever arrest him?"
"That’s what's so fucked up. They never found him."
"Are you effing kidding me?"
"Thatwhat I said when I read that like? Hello? big dude with a gun kidnapped 4 people. but that isn't the most confusing part of the story."
"Really?"
"So far, I haven't mentioned his mother and Step-father again. She turns up in their apartment."
"Just turns up?"
"She just turns up. but you know what? the step-father is reported missing."
"no fucking way dude"
"yes! and we still don't know what happened to him to this day."
【This podcast is sponsored by Monster Donut online delivery! watch to the end to get our discount code for 40% off of any monster donut purchase!】
honestly I would listen to it.
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AND MY MAN, THANK YOU TO MY MAN !!
#cue the edits#but seriously#it should be a crime to be this attractive#absolutely feral for him#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#criminal minds
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(x)
#archive of our own#ao3 quotes#ao3 stuff#archive of our own quotes#fanfic#fanfic quotes#funny#ao3#ao3 tags#another of my word crimes!#me posting literally anything here#y’all are crazy
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𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘
𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪��𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰
𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊
wc - 5.7k
warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn?
notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!!
anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥
Lonely girl looking for owner.
Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him.
At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.
Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are.
You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox.
From: squeakycleanscot
Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl
Hi,
Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.
I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.
When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them.
I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)
Happy to send a picture if you'd like :)
Hope to hear from you soon,
Johnny.
Johnny.
You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind.
Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious.
You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.
hi johnny,
scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound?
it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;)
cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby.
i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3
if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay?
have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences!
y/n
As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird?
You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up.
Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.
Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;)
I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers.
I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind.
Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol
Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post.
His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for.
You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting.
Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man.
looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?
i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic?
barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)
same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay?
Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too.
Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate.
It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach.
Clearly, he's a softie at heart.
When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message.
Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :)
You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere...
It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.
You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.
Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.
holyfwucj
holy fuck
Like what you see?
i need a hug from you urgently.
now i feel shy...
It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck.
Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance.
Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal.
You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go.
Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you.
I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie.
okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!!
Holy fuck yourself.
And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background.
If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.
sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep.
Can you do me a favour?
That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you.
depends on what it is!
Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah?
does that mean you're coming for me?
One day, if we're both lucky.
seems promising so far, Johnny.
Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell.
The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible.
how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean!
Patience, bonnie. Be good for me?
You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.
It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave.
okay, but I see how this is going to be :(
Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;)
now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny...
Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?
cuddling up to barnaby now.
You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets.
talk tomorrow?
Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3
You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness.
For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight.
He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.
-//-
Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar.
The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.
Good morning, sweet girl.
Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in.
He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you.
morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep?
Like a baby. Yourself?
not the best, but I swear you were in my dream.
Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do?
I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though.
You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.
My dreams were shite, you didn't show up.
i'll try harder to be there tonight!!
Promise?
promise.
God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into.
You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation.
You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information?
It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.
With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.
What's your plan for the day?
lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu?
I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can.
On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there.
You rush to follow up your message with something else.
will you still be able to call tonight?
Aye, give me your number, I'll save it!
You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.
The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.
Cute profile pic on whatsapp.
Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.
it was Halloween, I swear!!
You make an adorable little kitten, lass.
imagination running wild now? ;)
Aye, but I'm a gent.
hopefully not always...
Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty.
talk to you then <;3
Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice.
What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears?
The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.
Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home.
You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer.
It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you.
You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.
i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!!
Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.
i can tell <3
Ready to call?
whenever you're ready!
The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat.
"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too.
"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak.
A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident.
You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?"
He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise."
Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face.
"I like yours too, you sound so sweet."
You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes."
"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?"
"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..."
"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then."
"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive.
"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite."
"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar.
A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass."
"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.
"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten.
The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating.
"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing."
"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."
If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more."
He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."
"Now I'm pouting."
"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver.
"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy.
"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips."
You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside."
"No?"
"Nope."
"Might not be gentle with you, though."
"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.
"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth."
"You have no idea..."
He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie."
"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone."
He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head."
"You're already making good progress." You admit.
"Oh aye?"
You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight."
"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice.
"Already spoiling me, too."
Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.
"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine."
You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?"
"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh.
While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise.
"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life.
In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?"
"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt.
If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you."
There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air.
"Hard to come by, I've found."
The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love.
You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?"
"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing.
"That's... horrible."
Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.
"A few of the lads here have a similar story."
"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.
"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?"
"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course."
At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye."
You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling."
"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone."
"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow."
"So do I, alarms set for 4."
You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.
"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand.
"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?"
You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest."
"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much."
You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"
"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder.
"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?"
"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy."
Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."
"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there."
"Well, I wouldn't be opposed."
"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken.
"Oh yeah?"
He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?"
"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.
"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me."
"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke."
"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.
"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though."
"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."
You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!"
"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice.
"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that."
"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling.
"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side.
"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy."
You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked."
"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation.
"Mhmm."
"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.
When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive."
You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything."
"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs.
"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."
Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.
"You like the military get up?"
"Love it, more than I probably should."
"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?"
"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?"
"Sergeant."
"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?"
"Mactavish."
Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.
"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders.
"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs.
"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title.
The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.
"What else do you like to be called?"
"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir."
"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt.
"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie."
"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.
"Aye, spanking arm at the ready."
"My pouting lips are ready."
"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."
Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it.
Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot."
The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.
The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.
As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake.
"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.
"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking."
"Me either, but av got bad news."
You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on."
"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome.
"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am.
"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?"
"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.
"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."
Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"
"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?"
"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane."
Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'"
You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you."
"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."
Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?"
"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime."
And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.
"Yeah?"
You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please."
His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday."
"5 whole days."
"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?"
You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?"
Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass."
"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon."
"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."
You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead.
#john soap mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish#soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#soap mactavish#john mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#call of duty fanfiction#call of duty x reader#call of duty fanfic#soap mw2#this is a crime against literature i swear#also a crime against graphic design#crimes all round???#anyway posting and pretending this doesnt exist so the self loathing goes away xox#aaaaaaaaaaah#collars and cages
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A Crime of Passion
Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader
Summary: When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.
AN: I couldn't help myself lol. I wrote this last night. Here's a quick little drabble for the Take Me Home series, set directly after A Good Man Is Hard to Find!
Based on this request from @jessicalynnann.
Word Count: 550
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Implied smut, fluff, and a murder (of sorts).
Catch up on the TMH-verse: ⤵️
❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist
You just…you couldn’t stop laughing.
“All right, you done?” Beau asked.
You never thought you’d see this man blush so thoroughly. It made you laugh harder, though you tried to stifle it with your hands covering your face.
He had you laid out beside him, still skin against naked skin as the cool air began to dry your dewy bodies.
You were lying against him in an odd position, considering your bed now had a deep crack in the bedframe that ran all the way down the middle. It meant your legs were bent at an angle, almost like you were laying in a recliner seat.
You just couldn’t believe it.
This man had really broken your bed.
In fact, he murdered it. Killed it dead. Though you supposed it was a crime of passion, in this case. (You held in a snort at the thought.)
There were even a couple of screws that had rolled across the tile floor.
“Again, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I promise I’ll pay for a new frame,” Beau said contritely.
The truth was, he was embarrassed beyond belief.
Another giggle escaped you, though you tried to soothe him by caressing his cheek.
“Baby, it’s okay. This thing was old. I’m surprised it survived the move all the way from Chicago, honestly,” you said. The twinkle of mischief in your eyes made his face warm further.
“But how damn lucky am I,” you added, your lips curving. “My man quite literally shatters expectations when he makes love to me.”
And despite the unexpected cracking sound that had left you wide-eyed, it had been a spectacular finish. Even now, you were still tingling between your legs from how hard you’d come on his cock. (Twice.)
You slipped your bare leg between both of his and pressed a sweet kiss to his chest.
Beau fought it, but he had to smile at your words, and your affection. He sunk a hand into your tangled hair, first brushing his thumb against your cheek.
“You sure you’re okay then?” he asked.
“I’m more than okay,” you said. He felt the shape of your smile against his skin. You pulled back to meet his eyes. “Better the bed than my back, anyway. Jesus.”
Beau let out a sigh. Another giggle bubbled over and escaped you. You rubbed his arm.
“Think of it this way,” you said. “Now we can go pick out a new bed together.”
Beau tilted his head at that, and he nodded. A smile grew across his face.
“Now there’s an idea,” he said. It was probably too soon for him to broach the topic of moving in with you, but this could be a good first step.
“Right?” you replied in excitement. But there was something else dancing in your eyes. “We’ll just have to make sure the frame’s reinforced with titanium or something, because goddamn.”
Beau couldn’t help but laugh. He dropped his forehead against your shoulder while his own shook. You held him to you and didn’t bother to try and hide your own amusement anymore.
One thing you knew for sure?
There was no way in hell you’d ever let him live this down.
And one thing he would never tell you…
Beau Arlen was damn proud of himself.
AN: 😂 Well then. That was fun, and I hope you enjoy! ❤️
Ko-Fi Me ☕
Take Me Home Masterlist
Big Sky Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
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@wincastifer @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @brianochka
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#A Crime of Passion#beau arlen#beau arlen x reader#beau arlen x you#beau arlen x female reader#beau arlen smut#Beau Arlen series#TMH-verse#Take Me Home#beau arlen fanfiction#beau arlen fanfic#big sky#jensen ackles#big sky season 3#jensen ackles characters#A Good Man Is Hard to Find sequel#zepskies writes
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20 partners in crime prompts
requested by: anonymous
Feel free to use and reblog!
Platonic:
#1 - always looking out for the other's safety
#2 - anticpiating the other's next words and moves
#3 - finishing each other's sentences
#4 - calling the other out on their shit
#5 - getting aggravated whenever the other does something slightly different from their plan
#6 - to outsiders, it looks like they don't along at all
#7 - knowing the other's weaknesses better than their own
#8 - picking on the other for their defeats
#9 - spurring each other on to better performance
#10 - having each others' backs unconditionally
Romantic:
#11 - yelling at them because they thought they'd lose them
#12 - romance getting in the way of their missions
#13 - showing off their skills to impress the other
#14 - getting turned on when they see the other succeeding
#15 - kisses in the 'workplace'
#16 - using their affiliation to get further in their mission
#17 - denying their relationship strongly
#18 - falling asleep in each other's arms after a stressful mission
#19 - vowing to protect the other from all harm
#20 - being inspired to master every challenge because their love makes them strong
#partners in crime prompts#partners in crime#partners in crime au#platonic prompts#romance prompts#writing prompts#prompt list#fanfic prompts#writing inspiration#writing ideas#writeblr#writers on tumblr#setting prompts#20 prompts
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Until Death (M)
Author: kpopfanfictrash
Creative Contributor:@baebae-goodnight for this unbelievable moodboard truly, like, WHAT
Genre: Green Bone Saga!AU || Organized Crime / Forbidden Romance / Suspense + Action
Author’s Note: This one shot is set in the Green Bone Saga universe, written by Fonda Lee. You do not need to have read this series in order to read this one shot (I explain concepts/terms), but I do HIGHLY encourage you to read this series at some point because it’s absolutely amazing!! Anyways, Yoongi dropped the Haegeum MV and I was like.... did he read Jade City lol. Further disclaimer this is not a retelling of the books, nor does the Kaul family exist in this version of Kekon (although the No Peak clan does)
Pairing: Yoongi / Reader
Synopsis: Jade has always shaped the island of Kekon. Mined from the mountains, it enhances the abilities of Green Bone warriors who wear it and allows them protection from outside harm. No one understands these threats better than you do, second-in-command of the mighty No Peak clan.
When a new danger appears, seeming to come from within, everything you once took for granted is called into question. Including the bonds you’ve made, some more dangerous than the others. None more so than Min Yoongi, head of No Peak and the only one capable of destroying your heart.
Rating: 18+
Warnings: graphic violence, fight scenes and mature content (character dies in the story; not main character)
NSFW Warnings: dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, spanking, oral (female), multiple orgasms, possessiveness, unprotected sex (couple is monogamous), spit, hand job
Word Count: 17,650
[ Cross-posted to Wattpad here ]
“There’s a rat in our midst,” Jungkook growls, slamming his fist to the table.
No one in the room flinches, although several glance fleetingly in the direction of the Pillar. The typically mild-mannered head of No Peak frowns, clearly disturbed by the recent attacks. Only a madman wouldn’t be.
Still, his voice remains calm while answering your second Fist. “That remains to be seen,” Yoongi says. As though the current situation could be perceived as anything but a threat.
Subtle, you flick a glance towards him, then away. In the corner of your eye, you see Yoongi’s lips curve before smoothing to nothing. Lowering his palms to rest on the table, the ends of his sleeves rise to reveal solid jade.
Leaning back, you survey the table before you. As the Horn of No Peak, it’s your job to defend the clan’s territory – by force, if necessary. Several levels of Green Bone warriors report into you, including your Fingers (the lowest of soldiers) and Fists, your direct reports.
Jungkook became Second Fist only a month prior but already, he’s created a name for himself. An impulsive, somewhat violent name for himself.
In this case though, you happen to agree with him. Not one, but two Lantern Men – commercial patrons of No Peak – have turned up dead in the past week, tortured beyond recognition. Over a week has passed since the first murder and still, there’s no suspect. Neither man was wealthy nor wore jade beyond a single piercing. Each was killed in a different part of town with no family in common. For a week, you’ve been racking your brain for motive and coming up empty.
Peeved by the thought, your fingertips dig into your leather jacket. Perceiving the shift to your aura, Yoongi starts to turn – catching himself just in time and facing forward.
An assortment of Lantern Men, Fists and Luckbringers (the money-making side of the clan) sit around a worn table. All watch the Pillar warily, as though uncertain how this meeting will end.
Tilting his head, strands of dark hair fall across Yoongi’s forehead. Studs of green line his ears, a single bolt of jade threaded through his right brow. Since the Academy, Yoongi has preferred to wear his jade as piercings – except for the clusters on fingers and wrists. He flexes these now, a visual display of power.
Jade from the island of Kekon is powerful; toxic to all but the Green Bones trained to wear it. To them, it grants unique power in each of the six disciplines: Strength, Steel, Perception, Lightness, Deflection and Channeling. Being from Kekon is no guarantee a person can wear and use jade, though. Individual tolerance varies, with most not able to withstand more than a few pieces.
No one in No Peak wears more jade than the Pillar – no one but you, that is.
This thought brings little comfort in a room such as this. Most of the sycophants seated around the table would turn on Yoongi – and No Peak – in a heartbeat. If it’d enrich their coffers, they would switch sides, honor be damned. You trust your Fists and Fingers but find it hard to extend the same grace to Namjoon’s side of the clan.
Kim Namjoon, known as the Weather Man, heads No Peak’s monetary ventures. Ranking as highly as you, he reports directly to Yoongi. Turning to face Namjoon, you make no attempt to hide your suspicion.
Although he doesn’t meet your gaze, his annoyance flares. Namjoon’s jade aura is weaker, fueled by one or two jade rings on his fingers. More would be unnecessary in his line of work. Namjoon’s lips tighten, able to Perceive your attention.
Perception is one of the more interesting skills of a Green Bone. Wearing jade creates an aura and through it, other Green Bones can sense emotion and intention. For example, you sense that Namjoon is annoyed, but you don’t know why. You can hazard a guess, based on the context.
Although you both graduated from the Academy at the same time, you barely knew Namjoon in your youth. The Kim family is legendary, having fought alongside Yoongi’s grandfather to dispel the Shotarian occupation of Kekon. You, on the other hand, moved to the city of Janloon when you were ten and joined the Academy as an outsider.
Not only were your social circles different, so were your interests. Even as children, Namjoon preferred brains over brawn, while you – well, you don’t enjoy violence, but you understood its necessity in protecting those you love. Ever since your father’s death, what you love has been No Peak.
You suppose Yoongi could’ve picked a worse person for Weather Man. Namjoon is shrewd, if occasionally withholding. He has the best interests of the clan at heart, even if you often disagree about what those interests are.
“Min-jen,” Namjoon says, the respectful title flowing from him like water. “I share your frustration with the current situation. My men are, of course, at your disposal.”
Your gaze narrows on his profile. Namjoon loves to offer help but when push comes to shove, it’s your side of the clan on the front lines.
“And what will your men do?” you inquire, drawing heads your way. “The entirety of their green couldn’t be seen in a desert.”
Someone down the table coughs, although they swiftly fall silent when Yoongi clears his throat. Disappointment radiates from him, turning his head.
“One’s worth to the clan isn’t measured in jade,” he says levelly. “You’d do well to remember that, in the future.”
Sitting back, you school your expression to nothing. Shame swirls in your stomach though because Yoongi is right. His sister is a stone-eye; someone unable to use or wear jade. Yejun feels nothing of jade’s effects – either positive or negative – but serves the clan in her own way. Kekon is superstitious about such things though and, when Yejun was born, rumors ran rampant it boded ill for Yoongi’s leadership. Rumors the Pillar has done his best to stamp out.
“Yes, Min-jen,” you acquiesce, inclining your head.
“My Luckbringers are reviewing financial statements of the victims,” Namjoon says, as though you haven’t spoken. “If there’s any monetary connection between them, we’ll find it.”
“My Fists are also investigating,” you add. “We’ll keep the clan updated.”
A scoff from the lower end of the table. Turning your head, you find Mr. Hu, a wealthy Lantern Man, watching you with a scowl. Middle-aged, with a portly belly from hoji, the man has never accepted you as his Horn. As the first woman bestowed the honor, you expected there to be some resistance.
Not that it endears him to you. Sweetly, you smile and lean forward. “Did you have something to add, Mr. Hu?”
Briefly, his gaze drops to the jade around your throat. Forcing a swallow, he forces his gaze to lift. You must give him credit; the man continues, despite the visual reminder you could kill him in seconds.
“Investigating what?” he asks, puffing out his chest. “I saw the second victim being brought in. There was… well. There was little to see. Tortured,” he adds, addressing the muttering around the table. “The man was mercilessly tortured before he was killed.”
Perceiving the shift in Yoongi’s emotions – edging towards fury – you hasten your response.
“Mr. Hu,” you say, lightly resting your hand on a Talon knife. “I thank you, for having the foresight to raise such an important issue.”
Frowning, he glances left and right, but his fellow Lantern Men avoid him. Likely, they understand this won’t end well. Indeed, Jungkook is already eyeing the man with barely concealed malice, thumb stroking slowly over the hilt of his sword.
“The fact that both victims were tortured,” you continue, conversational. “Almost as though the killer were looking for something.”
“Or someone,” Namjoon adds.
“Or someone,” you agree, focusing on Mr. Hu. “My men are searching the murder sites for more information now. While they do that though, are there any other details of an active murder investigation you’d like to know? Perhaps whether the victims pissed themselves before death, or left money behind?”
Paling, Mr. Hu seems to realize how this sounds. “N-no,” he says. “Thank you for sharing what you have, Horn-jen.”
Ignoring him, you glance in the direction of Yoongi. “We’ll find the traitor. I swear it.”
His aura flares, full of emotion unrelated to the conversation at hand. “Of that, I have no doubt,” Yoongi says lowly.
Heat floods your face, sensing his intent and swiftly, you look away before others can notice.
“While the Horn and Weather Man conduct their investigations, I ask for everyone to remain on high alert,” Yoongi says, surveying the table. “No Peak will increase Green Bone presence in the border districts. If you see anything of interest, contact the clan.”
Several Lantern Men relax at the mention of Green Bones. You know business has been hard as of late, with so many customers shaken by the violence. Hopefully, this will convince the people No Peak has the situation in hand. Otherwise, why would the Lantern Men continue to pay for your protection?
Glancing at the bloody photographs laid out on the table, you can hardly blame them for their skittishness. Whoever killed these two victims was skilled. Their torture tactics are pristine, better than most graduates from the Academy. A skill you also possess, although you choose not to use it outside of last resorts. Even then –
Your fingers cease tapping against your leather jacket. Straightening, you realize the skill displayed is exactly that of the Academy. The cuts, the angle of the blade and depth of the wounds – all of it, textbook. A Green Bone did this, you’re certain.
Sharply, you glance up and allow your distress to show. Voicing your suspicion aloud would only end badly. Above all, the Pillar must appear in control. If a Green Bone – even a disgraced one – is murdering citizens of No Peak, it would be a disaster. Better to discuss your suspicions in private before airing them to the entire group.
Perceiving the shift in your emotions, Yoongi stiffens. “We’ll update you with any new information,” he says, dismissal clear in his tone. “Thank you for coming.”
Chair legs scrape floorboards, patrons filing out as they murmur to one another. Asha, your First Fist, hovers by the door until you give a discreet shake of your head. Nodding, she slips out and you see Jungkook follow.
To one side, Yoongi converses tersely with his Pillarman, Hoseok, until Hoseok exhales and swiftly exits the room. Kim Namjoon stays, drinking a glass of water at the opposite end of the table. Once you three are alone, Yoongi holds up his hand. He waits, utterly still until the last jade aura fades.
Only then does he turn. “Well, Y/N?” he drawls. “What did you realize?”
Not wasting time, you pluck a photograph from the pile and toss it before him. “These cuts,” you explain. “They were made by a moon blade. So precise – so even. Exactly the length taught at the Academy. Which means–”
“Shit,” Namjoon mutters. He sets down his glass. “We’re fucked.”
You give him a look. “Precisely.”
Yoongi frowns, his distaste palpable. “This is the work of a Green Bone.”
“I think so.”
Pushing his chair back to stand, Namjoon grabs a photo and turns it sideways. “Why would a Green Bone go after a Lantern Man, though?” he wonders out loud. “He wasn’t even wearing jade when he died – it’s against aisho.”
Yoongi’s lips press tightly together.
Aisho refers to the strict code of honor governing all who wear jade. There are many tenets, but first and foremost is that those who wear jade don’t harm the jadeless. Aisho also limits retaliation following honorable duels, ensuring the clan lines remain intact.
A Green Bone who follows aisho would never attack a citizen.
Which forces you to draw an unsavory conclusion. “Unless they didn’t care,” you say, voicing the worst possibility. “The killer could have been trained as a Green Bone and left.” Stiffening slightly, you glance at Yoongi. “You don’t think…”
“I do,” Yoongi mutters. His jaw clenches, then unclenches. “Maro.”
Namjoon swears softly.
Maro – known to most as Toh Marosun – is a traitor to No Peak. He grew up in the same circle as Namjoon, Yoongi, and other high-ranking Green Bones. Maro attended the Academy in the same class as Yoongi, and everyone expected him to become the Horn. Brilliant, swift, and vicious in battle – not to mention one of Yoongi’s closest friends.
Despite this fact, you never liked him. Having grown up the only daughter of an unremarkable Lantern Man, you experienced Maro the way most people did. Toh Marosun was cruel. Saccharine, willing to say whatever people in power wanted to hear. Maro knew exactly what to do, what to say to manipulate followers. From the beginning, you saw Maro for who he was – a bully.
He joined No Peak’s ranks as a Finger, but swiftly rose to prominence. By the time you graduated, Maro was the youngest Fist in No Peak’s history. What he lacked in jade tolerance he made up for in cunning. Maro was always more sensitive to jade, but he was also smart. Talented, with the skills he did have.
In Green Bone society, there are two ways to gain jade – gifted or earned. Green Bones win jade through physical duels, taking the green from those they defeat. Recklessly, Maro began to challenge rival clans and often, he won despite not being able to wear his spoils. He displayed his jade often, which you suppose should’ve been the first warning sign.
Maro cared too much for personal glory. In Kekon, glory is achieved through the clan. Even the Horn and the Weather Man only exist to further No Peak’s prowess. The Pillar themselves is the embodiment of the clan, not their own person.
Even now, you recall the day Maro’s crimes were exposed.
Seven years prior, you were a Finger on routine patrol when Sain, your Fist, was commanded to return to the Min property. He brought you along, stationed by the front gate to ensure no one left.
You guarded with another Finger, one whose name you don’t recall. What you do remember is the utter stillness of the day, the unnatural calm which comes before a storm. The sun was bright overhead, a thick bead of sweat sliding down your neck when the door behind you at the main house banged open.
A man tumbled down the steps, landing in a heap in the billowing dirt. Coughing, he struggled to right himself, but both his hands were bound. From your spot at the gate, you couldn’t see clearly but you scented his blood. Heard the bruised rasp of his breath.
Yoongi prowled down the front steps, his famed Da Tanori steel glinting in his right hand. His gaze never wavered from the man bound before him – Toh Marosun, his former friend.
“Do you deny it?” Yoongi asked, his voice soft but deadly. Despite this, you Perceived conflicting emotions within.
Toh Maro stayed silent. Eventually, he exhaled.
“No,” he said sullenly.
Unable to stop it, you turned and saw Maro staring unflinchingly up at the Pillar. Yoongi stood over him, his lips a thin line of displeasure. You didn’t know what had happened but feared the worst from Yoongi’s expression.
In that moment, you didn’t envy the Pillar. Yoongi had become head of No Peak only a year prior; in many ways, he was as untried as you were. He was a silent, intelligent man and many people thought they could take advantage of him.
They were wrong, of course, but it would take time to prove that.
On that day though, you felt the dull grief to his aura. “Then I am sorry,” Yoongi said quietly. “For you leave me with no choice. Toh Marosun, you stand accused of smuggling jade from No Peak – one of the worst crimes a Green Bone can commit.”
The entirety of your blood drained as you turned around.
Spine steeling, you gripped your knives tighter. There were few crimes so awful they couldn’t be forgiven, but stealing from the clan was one of them. Cutting off Maro’s ear would be too light a punishment, especially with Yoongi so untried a Pillar. Death would be acceptable. Expected, even.
It would be the Pillar’s call – the clans weren’t run as a democracy. Straining Perception, you listened closely behind you. Although you’d interacted little with the Pillar, the man behind the mask couldn’t help but intrigue you.
Broken sobs filled the clearing, and you heard the sudden thud of knees hitting the grass. No jade aura accompanied the sound.
“Yoongi, please,” gasped a voice – feminine, young. “Brother, please spare him. Don’t kill him, he –”
“Silence.” Yoongi’s voice echoed over the courtyard. The newcomer obeyed with a lone, stifled sob. “You’ve been found innocent, sister,” he said, sounding weary. “But that does not make you innocent.”
The threat of his words hung overhead and although Yejun continued to sniffle, the sound of it muffled. When you glanced sideways again, you saw her face in her palms.
Yoongi watched dispassionately, although you sensed his inner turmoil. Rumors had reached your ears by then that Maro was dating Yejun. It seemed to be true, based on the way she pleaded.
Returning to face the gate, the yard remained silent until Yoongi exhaled. “Toh Marosun,” he declared, his sword sheathing. “From this day on, you are banished from Kekon. Return your jade to the clan and go. If you return to Janloon, your life is forfeit. Take him,” he said, speaking to someone you couldn’t see.
You didn’t dare turn, but tugged your knives a half-inch from their sheathes. If Maro decided to fight, you’d be expected to protect the Pillar. For whatever reason – disbelief, or respect – Maro didn’t attack, and no violence took place. He left in the waiting car, but you’ll never forget the look on his face when he passed.
Despite your young age, you recognized the glint in his eye. Fury, tempered by disbelief. He’ll be back, you thought grimly. It was only a matter of time before someone like Maro declared vengeance.
Your gaze slid to Yoongi, wondering if he felt the same. He watched Maro leave, his expression carefully neutral before he turned around and entered the house. Yejun had already disappeared, likely leaving upon Maro’s banishment.
The expression on Yoongi’s face now is similar, staring down at the photograph. Another moment passes before you realize something else.
“They knew each other,” you say, glancing between the victims. Reaching out, your hand lightly touches a photo. “Icho Retubin. He worked for the Weather Man after the Academy. And this man here” – you touch the other – “Niru Roluan. A low-ranking Finger who quit after a year.”
“He was friendly with Marosun,” Namjoon recalls.
“Yes.” Eyes wide, you look up. “After Maro’s scheme was uncovered, both of them quit and began working as Lantern Men.”
“Interesting,” Yoongi muses. “So. Toh Marosun returns. He tortures and kills his former friends – why?” he murmurs, speaking more to himself than either of you.
Brow lowering, you search for the easy answer. “He’s torturing them for something,” you say, glancing at the wounds. “Information, maybe.”
Yoongi tilts his head. “Which begs the question – has Maro found what he wants, or is he still looking?”
“Does it matter?”
Namjoon shrugs at your question. “If Maro hasn’t found what he wants, he’ll strike again. If he did find it – well. We might be out of time.”
Yoongi considers. “He didn’t find it,” he says, turning around to stride for the door. “Call it a gut feeling.”
Your gaze narrows on his backside. “Let’s call it more than that.”
Yoongi turns around, lips twitching in a smile only you see. “I can think of two reasons Maro might return. One – jade.” The Pillar lifts a finger. “Or, two – revenge.” His second lifts.
You and Namjoon exchange a look. “Maro could find jade on the Shotarian black market if he wanted,” you say.
“Exactly.” Yoongi drops his hand. “Which is why I’m inclined to call this revenge.”
“Maro could want revenge on anyone, though,” Namjoon points out. “Most likely whoever sold him out in the first place.”
“Well, that makes this easier.” Casual, Yoongi tucks both hands in his pockets. “I sold him out. I discovered details of his jade smuggling in Yejun’s apartment.”
“Yejun?” Sharply, you look at him. “Your sister knew?”
Yoongi’s gaze hardens. “Yes, she knew,” he says. “I’m sure you understand why I kept that piece of information to myself until now. Yejun wasn’t involved with the smuggling, but she knew it was happening… and didn’t tell me,” he adds, his voice grim.
Mind reeling, you attempt to digest this piece of information. Betrayal lodges deep in your gut, although you do your best to dispel it. It’s pointless to expect Yoongi to tell you everything – especially events which occurred before you became the Horn.
Namjoon also looks troubled. “That’s… but that means–”
“Careful what you say, Namjoon.” Although his tone remains soft, Yoongi’s body tenses. “The matter is done. I punished Yejun as I saw fit, within my right as Pillar. Trust me,” he adds, his façade cracking a little. “Her deception was dealt with.”
Silently, you wonder if this is why Yejun studied in Espenia. As a stone-eye, she can’t serve the clan as a Green Bone, but could have taken other paths. She could have become a Luckbringer on Namjoon’s side or begun a career in government. Instead, Yejun left Janloon for a foreign University. It was only recently she returned to start her residency at Jan Royal University.
Curious, your gaze flicks to Yoongi. If what he says is true, then surely, he knows Maro is coming for him. Yejun might not have betrayed him, but Min Yoongi did. It’s only a matter of time before Maro discovers what happened.
Blood simmering, you do your best to hide your frustration. Your role as Horn would be much easier if the Pillar would be honest about all his enemies. Suppressing your scowl, you ignore the heat of Yoongi’s gaze on the side of your face.
“Namjoon,” he says, turning away. “I want a list of potential targets. People Maro has worked with in the past or knew at the Academy. Assuming he doesn’t have the information he wants, Maro will strike again.”
“On it,” Namjoon says, already heading for the door.
Although faint, you can feel the cool brush of his aura passing. You envy the Weather Man’s ability to ingest information and remove partiality. Even after something like Yejun’s betrayal, he remains unflappable. Namjoon simply absorbs and executes, doing what needs to be done.
Left alone with your thinking, you can’t claim the same. Namjoon’s jade aura fades when he exits, footsteps receding to leave you alone with the Pillar.
You refuse to look at him, casting your Perception outward. A Green Bone with as much jade as you have can Perceive a beetle crawling through the tall grass outside. Feel the rumble of cars on the distant streets. Hear Yoongi’s heart beat from across the room.
Wearing jade results in a dizzying expansion of knowledge. You’re used to it by now – years of training and genetics lessen the risk of being overwhelmed. Without either, it’s all too easy to lose control.
It’s one of the reasons jade-smuggling is a serious crime. The other being that jade is the main source of income funding the clans. Selling jade through non-regulated channels increases the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. Hands which could bring negative consequences to other people or themselves.
Aisho outlines a strict Green Bone code of honor. It states Kekon first, clan first, family first. Occasionally, all three are tied and occasionally, one outstrips the other. Maro disobeyed every rule by selling jade to the Shotarians.
Maro knew all this and chose to continue, blinded by greed. He placed his personal glory above that of the clan, something which must be dealt with. To a lesser degree, Yejun chose Maro over No Peak, as well – which is why you’re surprised Yoongi said nothing.
“Y/N.”
Yoongi speaks your name softly, forgoing your title.
Stiffening, you force yourself not to turn. “Don’t call me that.”
“What?” he asks, his voice moving closer. “Your name?”
Hand brushing your elbow, Yoongi turns you to face him. Against all better judgement, you obey – and find your first mistake. Meeting his gaze, a ripple of familiarity – of home, a voice whispers – goes through you.
Shutting all this down, you lift your chin. “You lied to me.”
Yoongi’s expression flattens. “I couldn’t explain.”
“You could have. You chose not to.”
“I couldn’t,” he insists. “I’m still not sure I didn’t make a mistake. I showed mercy, Y/N.” Yoongi pauses, then swallows. “I exiled my friend and sent my sister away – and now, look what’s happened. Two men have been killed, and it’s my fault. How could I have told you,” he adds, the words desperate, “when I knew it’d result in that look on your face?”
“I’m looking at you like this because you lied. Not because of a decision you made in the past. Mercy isn’t a weakness, Min Yoongi.”
“Some would say that it is,” he murmurs. Fleeting, his gaze drops to your lips.
Yoongi drops all restraint so his emotion, so often concealed, smears through his aura. Longing, anger and fear, mixed with worry.
White-hot electricity jumps over your skin. Seeing the normally reserved Pillar undone in your presence is a heady knowledge. Knowledge that terrifies you, even as everything in you aches to move closer.
“It’s not,” you exhale, meeting his gaze.
Something falters in his expression and Yoongi stares at you, heated. You Perceive his intent – a rough flare to his aura – a moment before Yoongi bends and crushes your mouth to his. His kiss is thorough, intent, his body curving with yours while walking you towards the wall.
You instantly cave, unable to withstand the desperate sweep of his tongue. “Yoongi,” you groan, fingers gripping him tighter. “People will hear.”
“Let them,” he says, his voice undeterred.
Before you can respond, his lips fall upon yours with increasing urgency. Hand slipping beneath your jacket, Yoongi cups your waist to pull you taut against him. Eyes falling shut, you swiftly scan the building for lingering Green Bones. Finding no one, you return your attention to Yoongi and bite down on his lip.
He growls, grip tightening when you tug him towards you. Breaking away, Yoongi lowers his head to suck the curve of your throat. He lingers at your jade, tongue darting out to lick the skin underneath. Your entire body shudders, aroused by the sensation.
Touching another person’s jade is intimate. Most wouldn’t allow their own family the honor, let alone someone they sleep with. Skin contact with jade imbues power, and the swift rise and fall of it can be dangerous. Only Yoongi is brave – or foolish – enough to risk the effects.
Spine on the wall, you inhale at the rush. Yoongi’s length presses against your core, already hard through the confines of his pants. It seems unfathomable that this man, a stranger to you for so long, can inspire such potent emotion.
When you first met him, you were ten, and he was fourteen. You didn’t know who Yoongi was at the time – a fact which now seems unthinkable. Raised in southern Kekon, you came to Janloon after your mother’s death with little understanding of clan politics. Likely, you would have remained so if your high jade tolerance hadn’t pushed your father to enroll you at the Academy.
Walking through the gates that first day, you found nothing but apathy. The best-case scenario was your classmates left you alone. Worst-case, the other children were brutal. You attended school with the sons and daughters of high-ranking clan members. Although your father joined No Peak as a Lantern Man eventually, he could hardly be called successful. The Academy had no patience for a rural girl whose jade tolerance far outstripped their own.
It wore on your classmates’ pride when the teachers praised you. You began to get noticed, and not in a good way. Fed up with your presence, one of the students attacked you at the end of your first year. Even then, you knew how to defend yourself and flipped him on his back. Stunned, he stared up at you before yelling to anyone within earshot that you’d regret this. His father was a powerful Lantern Man of No Peak and he said you’d be banished before graduation.
Fear gripped you, sensing the truth to his words. Based on your own experience, you knew No Peak wouldn’t believe you over one of their own.
Despair filled your thoughts as someone entered the corridor. Your attacker instantly froze, which should have clued you in this was someone important. Still, you refused to look, reticent to turn your back on an opponent.
The newcomer cleared their throat, further stoking your ire. After a moment, you dragged your attention to them.
Min Yoongi stared back, his expression mild. “So,” he said. “Who can tell me what happened?”
Looking him up and down, you chose not to respond. You didn’t trust a stranger – a fourth year at that – to intervene on your behalf. Most likely, Yoongi was a member of No Peak and had only arrived to harass you further.
Seeing your hesitance, your attacker jumped in. He accused you of treachery, saying you jumped him in the corridor and threw him on the ground. Silent, your fingers curled into fists, but you remained quiet, even when Yoongi turned.
“Well?” he asked you. “Is that right?”
Your lips dropped into a scowl. “He deserved what he got.”
Subtle, his brow flicked upward.
To your dismay, you saw people had gathered as whispers broke out. A sinking suspicion occurred to you that something was wrong. Not with your attacker, but whoever this was.
Yoongi stared at you for a long moment before, to your surprise, he chuckled. “I agree.” Turning to face the boy, a dangerous light entered his eye. “I’d suggest not telling your father what happened, Heike. Because then, I might feel honor-bound to confess what I saw. Which was his son ruthlessly attack a first year, lose and then lie about it to his future Pillar.”
Color bled swiftly from Heike’s skin. “Yes, Min-jen,” he whispered, head bowed in shame.
Panic-stricken, you stared as realization sunk in you’d been flippant to the future Pillar. Steeling yourself, you waited for Min Yoongi’s response – likely anger or worse. Based on your experience, most men in power liked this fact to be known.
Instead, Yoongi merely turned and looked you up and down. His gaze traveled you slowly, unreadable in his scrutiny. At last, he glanced up.
“Your father owns the tea shop by the docks, yes?” he said, waiting for you to nod before he continued. “He joined No Peak as a Lantern Man last year.”
“Yes, he did.”
His lips twitched. “Well, then,” Yoongi said as he turned away. “I can’t help but be grateful he chose No Peak to patron. It would’ve been shame to lose you to another clan.”
Stricken, you watched as he strode from the courtyard. Minutes passed, and eventually you realized the crowd had dispersed. Heike skulked off to nurse his wounds and the future Pillar had gone, giving them no reason to stay.
If you weren’t loyal to No Peak before, you certainly were after. Yoongi had that type of effect on people.
After that day though, you rarely interacted. Yoongi was four years your senior and the future Pillar, while you were nobody. Albeit a talented nobody who graduated at the top of their class from the Academy. At your graduation, people whispered you’d make a strong Fist. No one ever imagined you’d rise higher than that.
You joined No Peak as a Finger, starting from the bottom. Yoongi continued to remain out of reach, the newly named Pillar struggling to earn his own title. It didn’t take long though, before you rose in the ranks. You spent two years as a Finger, then two as a Fist – you were twenty-two years old when promoted to Horn. The youngest in history, and a woman to boot.
Yoongi was adamant in the choice, defending you calmly to the entire clan. He said he’d rather have the right person at a young age than the wrong person at the right age. His support was the only reason you didn’t strangle him that first year. It was the beginning of working together and as it turned out, Yoongi drove you mad.
He micromanaged, overseeing all decisions to ensure No Peak ran smoothly. You two bickered often, the fire eventually dissipating to begrudging acceptance. Ultimately, you realized you saw the world the same – No Peak first, followed by everything else.
Back then, Yoongi dated but none of them stuck. No one understood the sacrifice necessary to remain head of No Peak. Couldn’t comprehend the ruthlessness, the dedication it took to lead the clan. Yoongi could never let his guard down, could never relax with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
You understood, though, because you shared this burden. Yoongi could be honest with you in a way he couldn’t be elsewhere. To the rest of the clan, he was the infallible Pillar, but to you, he was only a man.
Proof of said manhood hardens against your thigh, and Yoongi’s lips curve gamely at the base of your throat. Head lifting, his smile is sharp enough to carve the remaining bit of your heart.
“You left early this morning,” he observes, his gaze dimming. “Why?”
Your eyes trace his lips before lifting to his face. “Hian called in sick, so I replaced his watch. My Fists are spread thin, Yoongi.”
A wrinkle forms between his brows. “You should’ve woken me.”
“Why?” you tease, your hand sliding lower to rest above his hip. “To watch me go? You needed your sleep.”
“I needed you more.”
Yoongi’s words still your fingertips, struck by his honesty. Min Yoongi is nothing if not blunt, leaving you often speechless. What began as just sex, mounting frustration between friends, has become something almost too tenuous to name. The idea of having him scares you nearly as much as the prospect of losing him.
“You had me last night,” you murmur.
Yoongi’s fingers drift across your cheek. “And yet,” he says, unwilling to let you off the hook. “I woke up ravenous.”
Multiple meanings layer his words, some of which you purposefully choose not to hear. Instead, you glance past him to search the grounds. Several Green Bones cross the lawn, none of them close enough to overhear. Still, it reminds you of what’s at stake.
Exhaling gently, you pull from his touch. “I should go,” you tell him.
Head tilted, Yoongi’s dark hair conceals the jade in his brow. His brow wrinkles when he Perceives your tumultuous emotions.
“You’re worried,” he says.
“Of course, I am,” you say with a frustrated laugh. “I’m your Horn, Yoongi. It’s my job to protect the clan – to protect you – and right now, it feels like I’m failing.”
His gaze on you sharpens. “First off, I can protect myself. Second – it’s my job as Pillar to protect the clan. How can you protect us from something I can’t see?”
“How many times do I have to say you don’t shoulder that burden alone?”
The lines around his mouth deepen. “In good times, I’m lauded. It only follows that in bad times, I’m the one at fault.”
“Oh, if that’s all,” you say drily. “I, for one, have never lauded you.”
“Oh, really?” Stepping closer, his expression shifts from frustration to carnal. “I seem to recall differently last night.”
Electricity catches each place his gaze lingers, shivering its way down your spine. Refusing to let him notice, you lift your chin higher. “You’d have to remind me. It all blurs together.”
Yoongi bares his teeth, and you can’t help but smile. If there’s one thing the Pillar of No Peak can’t resist, it’s a challenge. The start of your relationship is proof enough of that.
After your promotion to Horn, you spent most waking hours by Yoongi’s side. Working with him was exhausting. Every decision turned into an argument. How many Fists you should have. How many students to admit to the Academy. Whether you should train with the Kekonese military or not.
Yoongi constantly occupied space in your thoughts, and not in a good way. He frustrated you, forcing you to second-guess and slow down your thought process. Maddeningly, he was often correct, which only served to further your irritation.
Eventually, things began to shift. Bickering turned to acceptance and finally, understanding. Yoongi trusted you more often to make the right calls and in turn, you snapped at him less for his input. Your arguments dwindled, then disappeared altogether.
Three years passed as Horn, and soon your frustration gave way to a different kind. You started to notice when Min Yoongi entered the room. At first, you brushed it off as nothing. Yoongi had an undeniable presence, this was true. Soon though, you realized your thoughts breached the border of friendship.
His absence could be felt like a phantom limb. Yoongi’s jade aura comforted you despite its fierceness – so at odds with the calm way he carried himself.
Idly, you wondered what it would take for him to snap. To release his infamous self-control and fully give in. Thoughts of what Yoongi would feel like left your body scorched. On more than one occasion, you awoke with an ache between your legs and a dream of his face slipping away.
Such thoughts though, were dangerous. Yoongi was the Pillar, and you were his Horn – a relationship couldn’t happen and what’s more, he’d shown no interest. You began to withdraw out of self-preservation. Prior, you sparred with Yoongi every morning but soon found yourself making excuses to skip.
What was once daily practice turned into every week and then, once a month. Yoongi was a distraction you could ill-afford, disarming you with his laughter as easily as his sword.
Instead, you forced your attention on training your Fists. Firstday through Fifthday, you met Asha and Jungkook at the gym before dawn. This went on for months, training in secret until one day you exited and saw Yoongi’s car at the curb. Stomach sinking, you watched as he reversed and sped down the street.
Perceiving tumultuous emotion, you knew confrontation was inevitable but hoped Yoongi would give you time to process.
He did not.
Instead, Yoongi pounded on your door the very next morning. When you finally answered, he tossed a practice sword your way and demanded you dress.
Shaking free of your stupor, you glared at Yoongi a moment before slamming the door. Stalking inside, you threw gear in a bag and returned to the hall. Stomping past him, you refused to acknowledge Yoongi, throwing open the door to his Duchesse Priza.
Yoongi sped to his place in silence, tension churning between you like water beneath a ferry. At his gym, you stormed out and ripped the sword from its sheath. Yoongi followed closely behind, barely leashed emotion rolling off him in waves.
You flew at him first, your body Light, and then Strong while swinging towards his head. Moving through the various jade disciplines, you relied on training hammered into your bones. Yoongi caught a blow on his forearm, Steeling his skin to avoid any damage. The two of you entered a familiar rhythm, understanding the other in ways no one else could.
It must’ve been hours before you threw down your sword and declared the match ended. Yoongi simply stared, his chest heaving with a wild spark in his eyes.
You were turning to leave when he dropped his blade, strode across the clearing and crushed your mouth to his.
Five months have passed since. Your relationship has been kept a secret, with you unwilling to place any labels. People would talk if the Horn and Pillar were dating. You don’t want that for yourself. Not when you’ve worked so hard for credibility.
Pressing his thumb to your lower lip, Yoongi drags it lower before he releases. “I’ll have to remind you, then,” he says before stepping away. The heat dissipates from his gaze, leaving you cold. “But you’re right. I should go.”
Somewhat dazed, you feel yourself nod. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself. This is exactly what you asked for, so you have no right to feel abandoned.
“Send me the list Namjoon makes,” you say, forcing lightness to your tone. “I’ll send Green Bones to watch their houses.”
Yoongi opens his mouth, then seems to think better of it and merely nods. He stays silent when you leave, brushing past him to the hall. Outside, you pause on the landing before you continue.
His jade aura fades as you exit, letting you know he remains. You do your best to ignore him, flipping your keys as you stride towards your car – not as nice as Yoongi’s, but serviceable nonetheless. Yanking open the door, you slide onto the sticky-warm gray leather seat.
Exhaling, you stare at the wheel before shifting to drive. Lowering the windows, you allow a slight breeze to drift over your face. As much as you pretend to be happy with the current situation, you’re not. You aren’t stupid – you know your feelings for Yoongi extend beyond those of a Horn to their Pillar.
When you first became Horn, you respected Yoongi. He was a good leader – still is – and you were proud to be the person strengthening No Peak by his side. Now, he’s the closest thing you have to family. Deep down, you understand his pardon of Yejun. If you were in a similar situation, there’s nothing Yoongi could do that you wouldn’t forgive.
Especially now, with your father dead. It happened soon after graduation, a sudden collapse of his heart no one saw coming. Yoongi attended his funeral. It was held on a rain soaked Seventhday after the Autumn Festival. Late in the season for a deluge but fitting for the occasion. It felt like the world was wiped clean, along with your prior life.
For the Pillar to attend was unusual, but not unprecedented. You recall him standing near the back, his Pillarman, Hoseok, at his side. The funeral was short – your father wasn’t garrulous by any means – but rain soaked your dress by the time it had ended. It surprised you when Yoongi came to express his sorrow, even more so when he seemed to mean it. Most people didn’t. Most people came for the spectacle, or to say they were there.
Yoongi though, gripped your hand tightly while meeting your gaze. His calluses were as rough as your own when he said the clan would support you. Oddly enough, you believed him.
With both parents dead, and no siblings, No Peak is the only family you have. Yoongi’s life is similar to yours, apart from Yejun. His father died of cancer when he was twenty-one and his mother soon followed, unable to cope. Yoongi knows what loss means, what it feels like to be alone.
Lips tightening, you imagine what it’d feel like to lose him. Worse than a Horn should feel when they lose a Pillar. Silent, you curse yourself for having poor foresight. There’s a reason the Horn and Pillar don’t date. A reason why such a relationship would be forbidden. It’s your job to protect the clan – not just Yoongi – but if it came down to it, you’d choose him every time.
Weaving through the bustling streets of Janloon, your speed is forced to slow. Janloon, the capital city of Kekon, is full of contractions. The latest car models pass beneath flashing billboards, coupled with street stalls and sprawling temples. Scents of the city mingle with stale AC from your car.
No matter how much time passes, Kekon stubbornly clings to its roots. Portions of the outside world may infiltrate, but they’ll never replace. This is something Green Bones and the clans understand.
Traffic forces you to park a block away from your destination. Striding towards the Twice Lucky, you nod at a few Lantern Men idling outside. Asha and Jungkook wait for you in a private room, lounging in seats around the square table. The second floor of the Twice Lucky has been reserved for Green Bones; a privilege No Peak ensures is well-compensated.
Jungkook sits in his usual spot, arms crossed and feet up. Asha is restless, fingertips drumming against the hilt of her blade. Food and water are laid out, half-eaten as though there were others here before.
Sensing your presence, your first Fist looks up. “Y/N-jen.” Asha straightens. “Any news?”
Crossing the room, you scan the building but Perceive no other Green Bones. Sinking into a chair, you pull a plate closer and pick up red chopsticks.
Jungkook turns towards you. “What’d you discuss with the Pillar? Seemed important.”
Asha gives him a warning look, to which he only shrugs.
Ignoring them both, you stab a dumpling. “We suspect the killings were done by a Green Bone. Do you remember Toh Marosun?”
Asha’s head whips in your direction. Jungkook was at the Academy during Maro’s betrayal, but Asha was there and remembers how it went down. If Maro has returned, it’s only a matter of time before things get worse.
“Of course, we remember.” Her eyes narrow. “So, it’s really him? Maro came back?”
“Maybe.” You hesitate another moment, then finish the dumpling. “It’s only a guess.”
“A pretty good guess, if you’re telling us,” Jungkook muses. “Why come back now, though? Returning to Kekon is a death sentence.”
“Is it?” Asha fights a smirk. “Everyone knew Yejun had a thing for Maro.”
Casual, you retrieve a talon knife from its sheath. You begin cleaning the blade, the weapon a natural extension of your wrist, and feel Asha and Jungkook’s gazes follow.
“I don’t think that’s relevant, do you?” you say calmly. “Not unless you’re questioning the Pillar’s judgement.”
Asha looks away, miffed. “No, jen,” she mutters. “Of course, not.”
“Good.” You pause, allowing your fury to seep into your aura. “The Pillar deserves nothing less than your respect. Which means Jungkook is right – coming back here is a death sentence, begging the question of why.”
Jungkook considers. “Maybe he left something.”
Asha turns back, the moment of tension forgotten. “He could be after his jade,” she offers. “Maro was always thin-blooded, so if it’s jade he wants, this could get bad. He could come down with the Itches.”
Sheathing your knife, you look up. “I agree. Maro might not be in his right mind.”
“What should we do?”
“Nothing for now,” you tell her. “Namjoon is compiling a list of people Maro knew. If he hasn’t found what he’s after by now, he could strike again.”
Asha nods and accepts this. Pushing aside a twinge of regret, you wish you could explain the rest. If Yoongi is a target though, it’s best to keep that fact quiet. And as much as you’d like to blame the Luckbringers, you have no way of knowing who’s helping Maro – either by will or by force.
A phone rings on the lower level, barely audible over the din. The Twice Lucky restaurant doesn’t have the best food in Janloon, but the quality is good, and its owner is loyal. The same can’t be said for other places.
Footsteps pound on the staircase, and Jungkook springs to his feet. Before you can warn him, the door opens and Mr. Une, the proprietor, freezes in place.
“Put that away,” you demand, waving for Jungkook to lower his knife.
Eyes wide, Mr. Une stares while your Second Fist sheaths his weapon. Seating himself at the table, Jungkook kicks both feet up like nothing has happened. The third-highest amount of jade in the clan lies coiled about his neck, polished stones resting against his tan skin.
Mr. Une continues to stare, wary until you pointedly clear your throat. “Uncle,” you say, adopting the deferential. “What can we do for you?”
Somewhat placated, Mr. Une turns his head. “Phone call for you, Horn-jen. The Weather Man said it’s urgent. You can use the phone in my office if you’d like.”
Smile disappearing, you stand. “Lead the way.”
Mr. Une blinks, and you realize you’ve crossed the room in less time than it took Jungkook to draw his knife. Inwardly, you sigh and attempt to appear harmless. The citizens of Janloon are used to living with Green Bones but sometimes, your power is a reminder of what they are not. Of the inherent danger of living amongst latent gods.
Following Mr. Une, you head towards his office. Asha and Jungkook walk close behind, with Jungkook at the rear and Asha by your side. Mr. Une hovers awkwardly at the door before turning around and pushing into the kitchen.
Once he’s gone, you lift the phone. “Hello?” you say.
Namjoon’s voice barks in your ear. “Get back to the Min property. Now.”
Your stomach drops. “What happened?”
“Maro struck again,” he says tightly. “It’s definitely Maro – and the victim is still alive.”
“Who is it?” you ask, expecting the worst.
“Jio Reubin. He managed to escape and made it here, but he’s injured. This is our best chance to get information.”
“On my way,” you say, and hang up.
Taking a deep breath, you allow the reality of Namjoon’s words to wash over you. Jio is hurt, meaning you need to interrogate soon in case he dies. Nausea curdles your stomach, and you try to dispel it.
Guilt wars with relief from knowing Yoongi is safe. You’ve met Jio several times, having attended the Academy with his now-wife, Lula. She never took to the bloodier side of the clan, deciding to enter the medical profession instead. If you remember correctly, she’s in the same resident program as Yejun.
Leaving the office, you nod for Jungkook to follow. He falls into step beside you. “I need you to do something for me,” you say to Asha. “Head to Jio Reubin’s and search the area for Maro. Call me if you find anything.”
She nods and turns, disappearing out the side door.
You and Jungkook exit the front, squinting when you emerge in the golden hour. “Follow me to the Min property,” you say grimly.
Jungkook nods as he turns, aura pulsing with adrenaline while growing fainter. You should warn him to be cautious but know it’d be hypocritical. Your own car’s speed is nearly twice the limit as you rush through the streets of Janloon, returning to the gates of the Min property.
Screeching to a halt, you yank keys from the ignition and sprint across the courtyard. Namjoon’s aura pulses from the main house, so you follow the trail and shove open the door.
Namjoon doesn’t look up when you enter, and you immediately see why. Jio lies splayed on the sofa, right arm dangling listlessly from a red cushion. At first, you think that’s the color before you notice the blood darkening Jio’s chest.
Kneeling at his side, Namjoon’s jaw clenches while attempting to Channel. Usually, Channeling is used to rend the body apart but in certain circumstances, it can be used to hold it together. Namjoon doesn’t wear much jade though and wasn’t trained as a healer.
“Allow me,” Jungkook says from behind you.
Dropping to his knees, he replaces Namjoon to clasp Jio’s hand in his. Closing his eyes, a thick vein pulses in the side of his neck. Despite Jungkook’s wish to enter the bloodier side of the clan, he would’ve made an excellent healer. His ability to Channel is better than anyone else in No Peak.
Jio’s aura, previously guttering, gradually smooths. Namjoon sits back on his heels, clearly spent from the effort. Wiping sweat from his brow, he turns to see you.
“Close the door,” he says faintly.
Reaching out, you obey and cross to stand by his side. Staring at Jio, you take in his bloodied state. Whoever tortured him was thorough, cutting just deep enough to let him slowly bleed out.
It’s a miracle Jio escaped, no matter how slowly his chest rises and falls. When you cross your arms, he coughs and cracks open one eye. Dazedly, Jio registers your presence.
“Horn-jen,” he rasps.
Briskly, you nod. “You’re going to be fine, Jio.”
Straining Perception, you sweep the ground for Yoongi but find him far away. Good. The further he is from this carnage, the better.
Glancing back, you seek Namjoon. “What happened?”
“Maro was waiting when Jio got home from his night shift. His wife had already left for the hospital. Maro knocked out Jio, tied him up and when he came to, started torturing him for intel. Jio managed to escape but hasn’t said how. Couple of Fingers found him in the Temple District.”
Your gaze moves to Jio. “Maro escaped?”
“Yeah,” he responds.
Stomach tight, you consider the options. Either Maro is still searching for whatever he’s after, or he found out from Jio and –
From across the property comes a surge of fury. No one else seems to notice, but that doesn’t surprise you. You’re more attuned to Yoongi’s aura than anyone present. Keeping your expression neutral, you know you don’t have much time until Yoongi arrives.
“What did he want to know?” you demand. “Did he –”
The door to the room flies open and hits the wall. The Pillar strides in, adjusting his cuffs as he goes. Yoongi’s dark hair is slicked, clothing immaculate as always. Heat curls in your lower belly, and you do your best to stamp it out.
His gaze flicks towards you, sensing your need before his expression shutters. Facing forward, Yoongi surveys the scene.
“What happened?” he asks, low and deadly.
His Pillarman steps inside and shuts the door. Hoseok leans to the wall, jacket falling open to reveal the handle of his Sig Sauer. It’s odd for a Green Bone to carry a gun but Hoseok’s job is to protect Yoongi from all threats. Although Green Bone warriors render bullets obsolete through Steeling, there are other threats best deterred by firepower.
On the couch, Jio coughs and attempts to sit up. Grunting, Jungkook grabs his shoulder and forces him down.
“Don’t be an idiot,” you say to Jio. “The doctor is coming, but if you die before they get here, you’ll be no help to anyone.”
“Are you sure it was Maro?” Yoongi asks, tension radiating from every line in his body. Even if you couldn’t Perceive him, you’d know.
Weakly, Jio nods. “It was Maro. Looks different now – leaner and wearing new jade. Scabs up and down his arms. But yeah, it was him.”
You and Namjoon exchange a look. Arm scabs could be a sign of the Itches, an illness caused by jade overexposure. Jade overexposure can happen gradually, or it could be caused by a single instance. For example, if someone were to go without jade for years and then put a lot on.
Green Bones are taught the symptoms from a young age. Severe mood swings, sensory distortion – shaking, sweating, anxiety, paranoia, and heart palpitations. When left untreated, the Itches can lead to madness and eventually, death. Better soldiers than Maro have succumbed to it, the lure of more jade greater than self-control.
The possibility flashes before you – Maro, unable to stomach being cut off from Kekon. He seeks out new jade, expecting to stomach as much as he used to. Instead, Maro breaks, paranoia and fear dragging him under. He starts to blame others, including the clan who took everything from him. A man in such a state might consider revenge his only option.
The hypothesis fits, though it means nothing good for No Peak.
“What did he say?” Yoongi asks. “Tell us, word for word.”
“He…” Jio breaks into a coughing fit. “Knocked me out. When I woke up, I was tied to my kitchen chair. I asked Maro what the fuck he was doing.”
“And?” Namjoon prods. “What did he say?”
“Said he’d been gone for too long. That it was all a mistake – leaving, taking off his jade.”
“Is that why he came back?” you press.
Jio’s head lolls. “He asked who betrayed him. Said he only told a few people about the smuggling, so one of them must’ve done it. I didn’t know,” he rasps, shaking his head. “I wasn’t one of the people Maro told. He didn’t seem to remember – or care.”
Paranoia. Another unmistakable sign of the Itches.
“What else?” Namjoon asks. “How did you escape?”
“I don’t know.” Jio frowns, blood trickling from a cut above his eye. “Maro seemed confused. He kept asking who betrayed him, and then mentioning treasure? He wanted to know where his treasure was. I don’t even know what he meant,” he admits, glancing between you and Namjoon. “His jade? I dunno.”
“It could be,” you say slowly.
“He’d ask about his treasure one minute, then accuse it of betraying him,” Jio says. “He said he went where his treasure was, but it wasn’t there. Or they weren’t there? He kept mixing up tenses. Wasn’t sure he knew where he was, half the time.”
Off to the side, you feel a sudden surge of emotion – there and gone before you can dissect. Startled, you glance in the direction of Yoongi but find him unharmed. Eyes narrowed, you watch a moment longer before you turn back.
“If Maro wants his old jade, maybe he meant his apartment. He could have gone there to search first,” Namjoon offers.
“A waste,” you say with a frown. “Maro forfeited his jade to the clan before leaving.”
Forfeited to the Pillar, more accurately. You glance once more at Yoongi, who doesn’t react. He continues to examine Jio, a slight wrinkle between his brows.
“All roads lead to me, it would seem. How did you escape, Jio?” Yoongi adds, casually changing the subject.
“Didn’t, really.” Jio coughs, the sound wet. “Managed to get an arm free, lunged for Maro and fell on the floor. Maro… didn’t really notice. He swore something fierce, stabbed my fridge with his knife and ran off.”
You stare at him in disbelief. “He stabbed your… fridge?”
“Yeah.”
“That makes no sense.”
“If he has the Itches, it doesn’t have to,” Namjoon murmurs.
“True,” you say.
This feels important though, in a way you can’t pinpoint. Maro didn’t have any trouble killing before – the only reason he’d leave was if he found what he wanted. Frustration gnaws at your thoughts, certain you’re missing something.
Outside, you hear someone enter the driveway. Gravel skitters beneath tires, the car coming to a stop as someone exits.
“That must be the doctor.” Yoongi turns around, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ll go let them in.”
Pulling open the door, he exits with Hoseok. You watch them leave, returning your attention to Jio.
Looking weary, Jungkook sits back on his heels. “I’ve done what I can,” he says. “Stopped most of the internal bleeding. He should live.”
The door behind you opens. “I’ll be the judge of that,” says an unfamiliar woman, striding in. Setting down a black bag, she looks around. “Anyone without medical training should leave. Now.”
Brows raised, you obey and take your leave. In the hallway, Jungkook mutters something about readying the car and disappears. You remain in the house, pacing and waiting for Yoongi’s return.
Namjoon’s eyes follow your tread. “What are you thinking?”
Shaking your head, you stop to examine a portrait of Yoongi’s father. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Something about this feels off. Why would Maro leave so abruptly?”
“He wouldn’t,” Namjoon muses. “Not unless he found what he was looking for.”
“Maybe Jio is lying. Maybe he told Maro it was Yoongi who betrayed him. If that’s so though, why wouldn’t Maro come directly here?”
“Here?” Namjoon scoffs. “It’d be suicide to attack the Pillar in his own compound. No way – Maro is smarter. If I were him, I’d set a trap. Draw the Pillar out.”
A terrible suspicion dawns as you freeze, mid-stride. This is the moment the landline rings and, crossing the hallway, you yank down the phone.
“Hello?” you answer.
Asha’s voice fills your ears. “Y/N? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me,” you say, turning around. “What’s wrong?”
“I have… well, I don’t know what I have.”
“What do you mean?” you press. “What’s wrong?”
Noticing your expression, Namjoon frowns and pushes himself from the wall.
“I went to Jio’s like you asked. There was no sign of Maro, so I went back to the house and… it’s strange. Maro tied Jio up in his kitchen, and there are signs of a struggle, but…”
“But what, Asha?”
She pauses. “Did Jio tell you what happened?”
“Yeah.” Your gaze flicks to Namjoon, who listens to every word. “He said Maro swore, stabbed a fridge and ran off.”
“Oh. Okay.” Asha exhales. “I was worried you’d think I’m crazy. The thing is, Maro didn’t just stab a fridge – he stabbed a photo. A person, to be exact.”
“… Who was the person he stabbed?”
Namjoon goes still, and your grip on the phone tightens. Pieces of the puzzle slide into place, leaving a picture which turns your stomach. Dread fills you, knowing what Asha will say before she says it.
“Yejun,” she says, and a loud ringing fills your ears. “She works at the same hospital as Jio’s wife, and there’s a photo of them at some ceremony. The knife… it’s straight through Yejun’s head.”
Heart pounding, you close your eyes and frantically sweep the grounds. Deep down though, you already know what you’ll find.
Yoongi is gone.
Fury boiling over, you realize this was the epiphany Yoongi had earlier. It must have something to do with the word treasure – likely a nickname between Yejun and Maro. Maro was looking for Yejun, not his jade or revenge. Or maybe it is revenge – stomach sinking, you realize what this must seem like. Maro told Yejun about his operation and soon after, Yoongi found out.
Maro wants Yejun, which is something you should’ve seen from the beginning. Yoongi realized before you and now, he’s run off to play hero.
“Stay here,” you say, turning to Namjoon. Feverish anger burns your blood. “Get Jio to the hospital once he’s stable. Thanks, Asha,” you say before hanging up.
Namjoon’s eyes narrow. “Yoongi went after Yejun, didn’t he?”
“Maybe,” you say, pushing past. “If he did, I’ll find him.”
You don’t remember reaching your car, only that once you do, you drive faster than you ever have through Janloon. The hospital is a logical starting point since that’s what Maro saw from the photo.
Shutting down your thoughts, you continue to weave through traffic. Thinking begets worry, which can lead to mistakes. Tightening your grip, you push the car faster. Roaring down the next street, you recall Yejun is working early shifts this week. She mentioned it the other day, saying how glad she was to be home in time for dinner.
Glancing at the clock, your jaw tightens. After a moment’s hesitation, you make a sharp turn, car skidding a little on the next street. If Yejun is already home, better to first check that she’s safe.
Yoongi’s sister lives near the hospital, an allowance granted with the understanding that your men keep tabs. While it’s unlikely Maro knows her home address, he could have followed her there from the hospital.
Parking swiftly, you leap from the car and sprint inside. Someone on the street protests, all bravado disappearing when they notice your jade. You skid to a stop in the lobby, zeroing in on the doorman.
“Floor ten,” you say flatly.
Open-mouthed, the man stares. When you start to move forward, he snaps to attention. “Elevator is out,” he blurts. “You’ll have to take the stairs, like the rest.”
The rest.
Teeth gritted, you pivot and take the steps three at a time. The climb upward is steep, and you use a burst of Strength to reach the top. Shoving open the door to floor ten, you come to a sudden halt.
Chaos greets you.
The hall before you is narrow, barely two meters in width. Yoongi and Maro face each other midway, moon blades drawn and locked in combat. Lunging, Maro’s blade slices Yoongi’s shoulder and blood splatters the floor. Hissing, Yoongi doubles his Strength to kick Maro in the chest, sending him flying.
Maro slams into a window, glass raining around him. Rolling Light, Maro jumps to face Yoongi, unscathed. Stomach sinking, you notice the amount of jade Maro carries. More than he ever had while part of the clan. Clearly, Maro is past the point of caring about things like the Itches.
His aura feels wrong where it touches yours, jagged and pulsing. Leaping and whirling with unknown motive, withdrawing to expand in nonsensical patterns.
Face contorted, Maro unleashes a series of blows which nearly has Yoongi buckling. Clearly, Maro has continued training in exile. He looks similar and yet different – his hair longer, beard unkempt to hide the scar on his cheek. His body is lean, that of a wild wolf after winter who fights more desperately because of it.
Steeling himself, you feel Yoongi pull his aura inward, readying for the next blow. Maro slips beneath Yoongi’s blade and slashes – and Yoongi releases, Channeling his energy outward in a deadly wave. The invisible strike hits Maro dead-on, making him stumble.
Gaze bright, Maro’s head whips upward. Sensing murderous intent, a growl slips from your throat as you rush in. Swifter than breath, you wrench knives from your belt, thrusting them upward to catch Maro’s blade.
He shudders to a halt, teeth bared in your face.
Yoongi skids to a stop beside you, disbelief warring with his panic.
“GO!” you yell, glancing at Yejun’s door. “Now!”
Yoongi hesitates before nodding, lowering his sword to dart inside. Maro seethes when he escapes, shoving with all his weight to send you backwards. Dropping into a crouch, you brace yourself with one hand and kick outward. Maro leaps to avoid the blow, landing Light with a fierce glint in his eye.
Bright studs of jade – some red and oozing – dot his chest, clearly done in haste. Maro doesn’t seem to feel pain as he walks towards you.
“You?” he taunts, half-laughing. “You’d barely graduated when I was chosen for Horn. Must be nice,” he muses. “A reward for fucking the boss.”
Biting your lower lip, you hold back your retort. When you do this, Maro smiles, lips pulled from his teeth.
Before he can speak, you lunge forward and Channel. Energy jabs Maro’s chest – enough to stun, but not kill. Grunting, Maro’s smile disappears as he Deflects. Bringing his sword down overhead, he leaves no room to dodge. Swiftly, you Steel and hope for the best.
Maro’s blade slams against skin, though he fails to draw blood. Springing forward, you strike hard enough to rend his shirt’s fabric. Pulling back, Maro seethes.
Your next series of blows are fueled by Strength, fast enough to elude normal vision. You rely on muscle memory and Perception, countering each of Maro’s strokes with your own. He’s not as fast as you are, but his additional jade gives him an edge.
His next Channel is clumsy but strong, enough to leave you winded and miss his next blow. You don’t Steel in time, his blade catching your jacket to cut your torso. Hissing, you stumble and press a hand to the wound.
The cut feels shallow but stings, nonetheless. Fury building, you hone your Perception to a narrow cone. Maro’s aura ebbs and flows, erratically bursting as he walks towards you.
“I don’t know why you’re bothering to fight,” he says, adjusting his grip on his sword. “If anything, you should join me, Y/N – I’m your future.”
Refusing to let him continue, you rush forward and exchange a flurry of blows that end in a stalemate.
Panting, Maro withdraws. “You have to understand I loved her,” he hisses. “I loved her, and she betrayed me. She deserves to die.”
“Who did?” you ask, although you already know.
Behind Maro, you see Yoongi rush from Yejun’s apartment. He holds her, unconscious, Yejun’s aura silent without jade ability. Fervent, you wish you could gauge her vitality. As it is, all you can do is buy them time to get help.
Sinking into a crouch, you draw Maro’s gaze.
“Yejun?” you prod.
“Yes,” Maro breathes, his gaze bright. “I trusted her, and she turned me in. Do you know what I thought about every day while in Shotar? Her. Do you know what she thought about? The clan,” he spits. “He’ll betray you, too, in the end – you’ll see. Killing them both now would be a mercy.”
“Yejun didn’t betray you,” you say to buy time. “She wasn’t the one who told Yoongi – he found out on his own.”
Maro blinks, his surprise evident for a moment before vanishing under fury. “That’s just as bad,” he snaps, his voice rising. “Yoongi and I were like brothers. Under aisho, doesn’t family come first?”
“Even family is bound by honor,” you say grimly. “Should I ever be disloyal to my brother, may I die by the blade,” you add, reciting the Green Bone oaths. “I won’t join you, Toh Marosun. Take me by force if you must.”
His nostrils flare but before he can act, you rush in. Dimly, you register Yoongi’s retreating aura and hope he’s managed to escape the building. Lightness and Strength blur as you move, Maro’s Deflection flung hastily forward.
You keep your blows unpredictable, swift enough that Maro struggles. Rage cloaks your intention as you whirl and slice in erratic patterns. Sweat beads on Maro’s forehead, Steeling wrongly for your knives to draw blood.
Sensing victory, you push harder. Gathering his energy inward, Maro lashes out suddenly in a Channel you barely Deflect. Energy rips through you, searing your bones in a silent attack. Wincing, you leap back and Channel a blow. Maro stumbles, barely shielding and you recognize a flaw.
There are few Green Bones in Shotar, which must make it difficult for him to practice Deflection. Pressing the advantage, you move forward in a quick flurry of blows. Although Maro’s sword is larger, your knives gain the advantage in the small space. He can’t move when you duck underneath, stabbing upward to pierce his soft underarm.
Howling, Maro whirls and swings at you rashly. Leaning backwards, you Steel and catch the blow on your forearm. Vibrations clang through you, rattling the teeth in your skull. The two of you lock together, Maro’s energy clashing with yours. When he doubles his Strength, you feel your Steel buckle.
Lips split in a grin, Maro keeps his sword steady. Further increasing his Strength, he’s focused on winning he doesn’t notice the shift in your aura.
Dropping your Steel, you draw everything inward and let his sword slice your arm. Maro’s laugh is manic – until you Channel outward. The last of your energy shatters his Deflection, piercing inner organs with deadly precision. You feel the moment Maro’s heart stops, his arteries rupturing from the inside out.
Forgoing any mercy, your knife slashes his throat in a clean line.
Blood mists from the wound, coating the wall behind you in red. With a gurgled gasp, Maro lifts a hand – only to go limp and fall, face-first on the floor.
Silence descends, broken only by your ragged breathing. Not far off, sirens wail, and you sense Green Bone auras closing in on the building. Eyes closed, you force yourself to breathe in and out.
No matter how often you do it, killing another person never gets easier. Even when necessary. Even when said person threatens your life and others. You fortify yourself with the knowledge that Yoongi is safe, and Yejun will live – she has to.
The cost to your soul is too high for anything else.
“Is he dead?” asks someone behind you.
Swiftly, you turn as you open your eyes. You were so focused inward, you failed to notice Yoongi’s aura approach. The Pillar’s gaze snags, stopping on the man before you.
“Yes,” you say, bending to clean your knives. Heart hammering, you wonder what Yoongi feels at seeing his former friend dead. Wonder if he’ll blame you, as Maro said.
Setting your jaw, you sheath both your knives before standing. Immediately, you see you needn’t have worried. Yoongi isn’t looking at Maro, but at you. A lone muscle tics in his jaw, observing the crimson blood staining your clothes.
“The police are on their way. They’ll clean up the scene. You’re hurt,” Yoongi adds, his voice thick.
You glance down at your arm. “It’s nothing.”
Bending again, you begin to gather Maro’s jade. You’ll be expected to wear it the next time you’re in public, but right now, the touch of it is nearly overwhelming. Minor wounds and injuries pulse with each movement, already healing from your current jade.
“I’ll take it.” Yoongi suddenly is beside you, right hand extended. “Let me help.”
Relinquishing some of the jade piercings, you slide the rest in your pockets and push yourself to stand. Turning to face him, you stride down the hall. A roiling ball of emotion settles deep in your gut.
Worry about Yejun. Fury at Yoongi’s lies. Relief, that he’s here and unharmed.
Entering the stairwell, the door hits the wall with a satisfying thud. Yoongi follows closely, wisely choosing to remain silent. Two stories lower, you find the words to speak.
“Is Yejun okay?” you ask.
You feel Yoongi’s gaze on the back of your neck. “She’ll live,” he says, sounding weary. “I left her at the hospital with Namjoon and Jiro. She has a concussion. Maro got here a few minutes before I did and had already roughed her up.”
Something about this snaps the hold on your fragile self-control. Picturing what might have happened had you arrived a few seconds later, you whirl around and grasp Yoongi by his suit jacket.
“Never,” you blurt, yanking him closer. “Never do that to me again.”
Gaze burning, you stare him down and Yoongi watches warily. He doesn’t move an inch, allowing you to manhandle him. “I know that you’re angry,” he says carefully.
With a harsh laugh, you release him. “Of course, I am! You shouldn’t have come here alone.”
“I know that.”
“Well?” you demand after a long moment passes. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”
Yoongi lifts a brow. “I’d do it again.”
You stare at him, aghast. “Well, then.” You pause. Shake your head. “If that’s all you have to say, I think this night is over.”
Wiping your palms on your pants, you turn away. You only make it one flight before Yoongi’s hand finds your elbow.
Spinning you towards him, Yoongi pulls you closer. You manage to avoid eye contact until his fingers slip beneath your chin, making you face him.
“I know you want me to apologize, but I won’t,” he says lowly. “I refuse to apologize for trying to keep you from danger.”
Most people would swoon, hearing this from their lover but you aren’t most people. You’re the Horn of No Peak, sworn to protect the clan – and Yoongi – from any threats.
Your gaze narrows on his. “That’s a problem, then. I’m your Horn, Yoongi. It’s my duty to protect No Peak – to protect you. The Pillar is the spine of this clan and, once severed, No Peak can’t survive. It can survive without me, though.”
Yoongi’s nostrils flare. “And what about me?” he asks. “If you don’t survive, how do you expect me to continue?”
You go still. “Yoongi… I…”
“And for that matter,” he adds, his hand on your chin sliding to the back of your neck. “If you’re so intent on following the rules, who are you to give me orders? I’ll fight to protect the clan if I want to, Y/N.”
Fury expands from the spark in your chest. “You didn’t make me your Horn to follow you blindly,” you seethe.
“No.” His gaze softens. “I did not.”
You stare at each other for a long moment, each passing second draining some of your fire. You’re left with smoke on your tongue, a heaviness in your heart and the ever-growing certainty the time for rule-following has passed.
“You… can’t think like that,” you say eventually.
Yoongi’s brow sketches upward. “Like what?”
“Like I’m worth more than the clan. More than you, as it’s Pillar. That’s dangerous precedent.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, I do,” you say, frustrated by his nonchalance. “The clan is my blood, and the Pillar is its master,” you add, reciting your oaths again. “You are the Pillar. Your life is that of the clan.”
Yoongi’s lips twist with displeasure. “It seems we’re at an impasse, since I refuse to place my life before yours.”
“Yoongi,” you snap, exasperated. “You can’t just… just –”
“Just what?” His eyes blaze. “Love you?”
“Yes,” you whisper, voice breaking.
Something in his face gentles. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that.”
Perceiving this truth, the last bit of fight drains from your body. Sensing it, Yoongi draws you closer and pulls you against him. Eyes shutting, you lean into his chest. Yoongi’s aura swallows you whole, an oasis of calm against the onslaught of night.
His breath warms your ear. “It was my problem to fix,” Yoongi murmurs, sounding reticent. “She… Yejun didn’t betray Maro, but she was going to – that’s how I found out. She was writing a letter to me on her kitchen table. I walked in and saw it.”
Lifting your head, you regard him. “You don’t have to explain to me why you spared your sister. I understand.”
“Thank you. You should know, though,” he adds, his voice fierce, “I will do anything to keep those I love from harm.”
You can’t help but smile, though it quickly fades. “I know you would, Yoongi. That’s a burden you can’t carry alone, though. It makes you weaker, not stronger.”
“This was my fault, though,” he says. “Not yours – nor anyone else from the clan. It was my decision to let Maro go free.”
“You aren’t responsible for Maro’s actions. And it’s not weakness to show mercy.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw.
“It’s not,” you press on. “Who’s to say what the right choice was? If you’d killed Maro back then, maybe something worse would’ve happened. Yejun might not have forgiven you. It’s impossible to rewrite the past, and you’ll go mad if you try.”
Yoongi looks away, unconvinced. “What type of Pillar does that make me, though?”
“One who hesitates before killing their friends.”
“One who balks at making tough decisions.”
“Min Yoongi.” Steel layers your voice and you reach up, turning his face to yours. “I would never swear oaths to someone who killed without question. Who made decisions in anger, then regretted them later. You question me when you question yourself.”
His gaze roams your face. “And what if others betray me?” Yoongi murmurs, voice lower. “Would you continue to support me if I was forced to kill Asha? Or Jungkook?”
“I’d trust you did what had to be done.”
“And what if I become corrupt?” he murmurs, his gaze flicking lower. “What if I’m the one being selfish, betraying the clan?”
“Well, that’s easy.” Reaching lower, you wrap a hand around the hilt of his blade. “I’ll kill you myself.”
Not looking away, Yoongi’s hand covers yours. “You could try,” he murmurs, some of his tension dissipated.
“Oh, I think I’d succeed.”
Releasing your hand, Yoongi finds your knee and hitches your leg against him. “If it came to that,” he murmurs, nose skimming your throat, “I’d let you.”
Inhaling softly, you close your eyes. “Promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
Perceiving the truth to his words, you open your eyes. Yoongi stares back, letting you see the starkness in his gaze. It’s no small thing for the most powerful man in Kekon to promise you anything.
Similarly, it’s no small thing to admit he holds your heart in both hands. Which is why you need to say what you do next. Without Yoongi’s next promise, this can’t go any further.
“Don’t make these decisions without me,” you whisper. “Let me decide for myself when a job is too dangerous.”
Yoongi’s lips flatten. “You give me an impossible choice, since nothing is too dangerous for my lovely Horn.”
“Trust that I love you, then,” you say, your hand trembling as you rise to cup his face. “And that I’ll do what it takes to come back.”
Yoongi goes still at your declaration. His pupils dilate so far, they seem to swallow the light. Four years, you’ve spent fighting together. Five months of knowing him this way, and never have you uttered those words to his face.
The transformation is quick, his expression shifting to desire in barely a breath. Bending, Yoongi drags your mouth to his. “Say it again,” he growls against your lips. “Tell me you love me.”
“You’ll become greedy,” you say, breathless.
“I’m the Pillar of No Peak.” He gives a half-laugh. “I will always want more.”
“Then, take it.”
Opening your mouth, Yoongi walks you backwards until your spine hits the wall. You lose yourself in his touch, his taste, the fatal heat of his body. Fingers tangling in hair, you’re rewarded by the basest of groans from his lips. Yoongi’s hands find your body, grasping and searching to pull you against him.
Far below, the faint pulse of jade auras brush yours. “Yoongi,” you moan, nipping his lower lip. “We should go.”
Pulling away, his thumbs indent your hips. “Go where?”
“Your place. My place. I don’t care.”
“I do,” he says with a grin. “Want to wake up with you in my bed.”
You can’t help but laugh. “You’re so needy.”
“I am.” His lips curve. “I need many things, Y/N. You in my bed. Eventually, in my house. Your vows exchanged for mine. But first” – his brow lifts – “I need to fuck you. Need to bury myself inside you.”
Lips parting, you attempt to digest this information. Everything Min Yoongi has laid on the line. The last sentence catches your attention though, heat curling in your belly and replacing all sentient thought. The rest can come later – first, you need him inside you.
“Let’s go,” you declare, pushing yourself from the wall.
He chuckles, low in his throat as he follows your lead. Halfway down, Yoongi’s arm finds your waist to pull you against him. His teeth scrape the skin beneath your ear, pausing to nip the highest jade hoop.
“Where will you put your new jade?” he muses, pressing his erection to you from behind. “You’re running out of places on your body.”
“I’ll think of something,” you murmur, Yoongi’s tongue on your neck proving extremely distracting. “Wrist cuffs might be nice.”
“If you wanted to be cuffed” – his voice dips – “all you had to do was ask.”
“That is not what I was referring to,” you say, although a shiver traces your spine.
“Pity.”
A second before exiting the stairwell, Yoongi releases you and takes a step back. You ignore the disappointment this brings, forcing your expression to neutral. Already, police cars are arriving to hold back the crowds.
From across the lobby, you spot Asha and Hoseok in deep conversation with uniformed officers. Moving towards them, you’re surprised when Yoongi takes you by the elbow.
“I ran into Hoseok in the lobby,” he says, steering you sideways. “He and Asha will clean up and meet us back home.”
Hoseok nods when you pass, his jaw tight in a way that implies displeasure. Swallowing laughter, you push open the door and immediately, your smile vanishes. Many people have gathered, huddled in groups around the yellow caution tape.
Catching sight of your reflection, you stifle a groan. You look terrible – sweat and blood mar your forehead, the rips in your jacket showing your wounds. Before anything between you and Yoongi can happen, you need a hot shower.
“The situation’s been handled,” Yoongi says to the crowd, pulling you towards the car. “Green Bones are searching the area for remaining danger – you should be able to enter the building soon. No Peak will compensate for damages.”
With that, he opens the car door and watches you enter. Expressions shift in the crowd, a wave of relief washing over the people. Yoongi joins you in the backseat, leaning forward to instruct the driver to go.
The car rumbles from the curb, its speed slow to avoid the pedestrians in your path. Grateful for the tinted windows, you lean sideways and rest your head against the cool glass.
In the reflection, you watch Yoongi retrieve his car phone. “Namjoon?” he says after a moment. “It’s done – Maro is dead. How’s Yejun?”
Namjoon’s reply is muffled, and your thoughts wander. Once you return, you should find Jungkook and instruct him to search Maro’s former haunts. There’s a chance he wasn’t working alone and if so, you’ll need to catch his supporters.
Tonight has taken a toll though, no matter how much you’d like to pretend otherwise. Exhaustion settles while you stare out the window, watching the lights of Janloon flick past.
Yoongi hangs up the phone. “Yejun is fine,” he says, and you turn your head. “Namjoon said she lost a lot of blood, but nothing that can’t be fixed. She should be awake in a few hours.”
Relief floods your body. “That’s good.”
His hand rests beside yours on the seat, close enough to feel the heat from his palm. Exhaling softly, Yoongi shifts until his hand covers yours.
Going still, you stare at your entwined hands on the leather. The car slows beneath you, coming to a stop before the Min gates. Another moment passes before the gates open, the car rumbling forward as Yoongi speaks up.
“You can take us to my place, Galo,” he says. “No need to stop at the main house.”
Startled, you glance sideways, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice. Never mind the driver’s raised eyebrows, or the fact that Yoongi just told him you’re sleeping together. While it’s true, you’ve slept here before, you’ve never been obvious. It feels as though a bridge has been crossed without discussion of what that means.
The moment the car is in park, you exit the vehicle and slam the door. Striding inside the front door, you unzip your jacket to hang on a hook. If Yoongi thinks he can share your relationship with others, you have every right to act at home in his house.
Technically, the Horn has a house on Min property, but you’ve always preferred to keep a separate residence. Your apartment in the city has served you well – except for the nights you stay here and sneak out the next morning.
Removing your boots, you set these aside. “We just discussed this,” you fume as you turn. “Ask me next time before you decide–”
Your words are cut off by Yoongi’s mouth, pushing you back until your spine hits the wall. “Couldn’t wait,” he rasps, shutting the door with his foot. “Need you. Now.”
Exhaling, you melt and arch upward against him. Grasping your thigh, Yoongi yanks your leg higher to wrap around his waist. The thick length of his cock presses to your center and you nearly whimper. Fiery anger dissolves into need – the need to touch him, feel him and wash away tonight’s fear.
“Yoongi,” you moan, turning your head. “I need to shower.”
Grasping your wrists with one hand, he presses them above your head. “Do you?” he murmurs, kissing down your neck.
“I’m covered in blood,” you protest.
Glancing up, Yoongi smirks. “And?”
Stifling laughter, you push at his chest. Obedient, Yoongi releases your hands to take a step backward. “Not to mention,” you say as you move past, “I’d rather not have Toh Marosun’s blood in your bed.”
Yoongi’s next action is quick, happening in the same breath. Catching your wrist in one hand, he pulls you closer. “The next time you say a man’s name in this house,” he rasps. “It had better be mine.”
“We’ll see,” you say loftily. “Now, let me wash up.”
Releasing you, Yoongi lets you pass, and you don’t turn around. If you did, you know you might cave and fuck him right there on the floor.
Entering his bedroom, you flick on the lights. Soft, muted warmth fills a room of concrete. Bulletproof windows overlook dense vegetation, invoking the feel of a post-apocalyptic city. Pausing in the doorway, you inhale his scent.
Although you’d never tell Yoongi – it’d go to his head – this room has swiftly become one of your favorite places. Watching dawn break in his arms has brought you greater peace than any of the gods.
In his bathroom, you help yourself to his fancy products and step under the spray. Securing your hair, you do your best to avoid the strands getting wet. Cranking up the heat to high, steam fills the room as you scrub blood from your skin. The water beneath your feet turns red, and then pink before finally clear.
Once done, you turn off the spray and wrap yourself in a towel. Straining Perception, you find Yoongi showering across the house. You’re momentarily surprised he didn’t try and join, although grateful he didn’t. After five years of knowing one another, Yoongi understands when you need time alone.
You’re washing your face when the bedroom door creaks. Drying your skin, you cross to the closet and withdraw a robe. Securing the tie, you wipe steam from the mirror before opening the door.
Yoongi sits on the edge of his bed, damp hair curling at the base of his neck. He’s freshly washed and changed into a plain shirt and trousers. In one hand, he holds a crystal glass of hoji, swirling it once before taking a sip.
Leisurely, his gaze drags down your body. When Yoongi looks up, his face brims with unsaid desire. Silent, he sets down his glass and pushes himself to stand. Watching him eagerly, you Perceive his intent when Yoongi prowls closer.
Coming to a stop before you, Yoongi lifts his hand to cup the back of your neck. Tilting your face upward, he strokes your damp skin with his fingers.
Silent, he lowers his face until your lips nearly touch. “What was it you said?” he murmurs. “About the clan being your blood and the Pillar, its master?”
Your breath catches in your throat. “You know the oaths as well as I do.”
“Yes.” Bending, Yoongi uses Strength to lift you against him. Gripping you tightly, he carries you to his dresser and deposits you there. “Well,” he says, lowering himself. “Allow me to show you who I get on my knees for.”
You stare at him, mesmerized when he parts your legs. Pulling your hips to the edge, Yoongi grips your thigh with a veined hand. The sight of him like this is downright sinful. Desire courses through you, setting your skin ablaze.
Yoongi leans forward, gaze meeting yours at the first brush of his tongue. You groan with relief, thighs spreading further. Lifting his other hand, Yoongi tugs at the tie of your robe. You inhale when it opens, fully bared while Yoongi’s tongue curls against your dripping sex.
He pulls away, eyes dark and casually spreads your folds. Muttering something that sounds like a swear, he stares at your cunt before lowering his head and sucking your clit. A dark moan escapes, weight shifting to get him even closer. Forcing your thighs open, Yoongi begins to flick his tongue against your swollen mound.
He doesn’t rush this, taking his time while eating you out. Yoongi flicks, and then swirls before sucking your clit. His tongue drags to your cunt, already dripping with arousal. Humming in satisfaction, Yoongi shifts on the floor and slips his tongue inside. Gasping his name, your fingers curl in the dark strands of his hair.
His tongue slowly fucks you, barely a taste of what’s to come. “Yoongi,” you groan, moving against him. “I need more.”
“Anything,” he says, pulling back to spread you with his fingers. Yoongi’s thumb finds your clit, casually stroking until your body quivers. “Take off the robe,” he demands, looking up. “I want to see you.”
Wordless, you push the supple silk from your shoulders.
“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, staring at rounded breasts and hard nipples. Lowering his head, he sucks your clit again. Sliding a hand under your ass, he drags you close to the edge.
Gasping out loud, your hand fists his hair to anchor your body. In the mirror behind him, you watch your chest heave, hips undulating while he licks your pussy. Head tipping back, you lose yourself in sensation, each stroke of his tongue further coiling your tension. Yoongi is patient; he knows what you need and takes his time getting there.
Cupping his head, you move your hips while starting to ride his tongue. When Yoongi strokes your entrance and slips a finger inside, you nearly convulse.
“Yoongi,” you gasp, legs shaking.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, lifting his head. Curling that finger, he strokes a dangerous place. “Come for me.”
When his tongue resumes motion, you feel your walls convulse. Tighter and tighter until – everything snaps, a wave of pleasure cresting through you. Thighs trembling, you hold Yoongi’s hair while you cry out his name.
The pleasure slowly subsides, leaving you slumped on the dresser. Yoongi pushes himself upward, cock straining eagerly against the seams of his pants. Cupping the back of your neck, he kisses you deeply, allowing you to taste yourself. Parting your lips with his tongue, he dives into you eagerly, one hand slipping to slide into your pussy.
Groaning his name, you fumble with the buttons holding his shirt together. “This,” you demand. “Off.”
Using Strength, you send the buttons flying. Yoongi smirks, withdrawing and pushing his shirt to the ground. Touching his chest, you stare at him, unabashed. The lean lines of his torso, the indent of his v, the jade lining his fingers where he grips you tightly.
His moon blade is absent, likely the first thing he cleaned upon entry. Still, the hum of Yoongi’s jade is a potent weapon – nearly as much as the need in his eyes.
Lowering your hand, you palm the bulge in his pants. Jaw flexing, Yoongi lifts your leg to wrap around him. The roughness of his pants against your sex makes you hiss.
“Yoongi,” you moan. “Want to touch you.”
“I want that, too,” he murmurs, hair falling into his gaze. “More than that, I want to be inside you.”
Breath catching, you remove your hand as he presses forward. You feel his cock through his pants, rock-hard and straining against your needy pussy. Swallowing thickly, you managed to undo the last button and shove his pants down. Stepping free of their confines, Yoongi palms his own cock.
Replacing his hand, you give him a squeeze. Yoongi lowers his head to close his lips around a waiting nipple. A whimper rises when he tugs, switching to the other breast and repeating the motion. Arching upward, you lazily drag your thumb over the tip of his cock.
Eventually, Yoongi looks up and hisses, “Enough.”
Reaching lower, he guides his cock to your entrance. Leaning back on your palms, you lift one knee to allow him better access. Yoongi pauses, gaze traveling your face to your chest, landing on your cunt. Exhaling softly, your head tips back as you widen your legs.
“You’re perfect,” Yoongi rasps, flicking his thumb over your hooded clit.
Inhaling, you tremble from oversensitivity. Bending, Yoongi slowly spits to land moisture on your cunt. It drips down your sex, mixing with arousal while Yoongi pushes the tip of his cock inside. He pauses, watching your face, then adds another inch.
You arch upward, trying and failing to take him in deeper. “Is that all you have?” you challenge, goading.
Yoongi merely smirks. “Do you think,” he murmurs, refusing to move, “you can make me give you what you want?”
When he starts to withdraw, you tilt your hips, and he slides in a bit deeper. Yoongi groans as he fills you, hand tightening on your waist.
“Yes,” you gloat, brushing your breasts to his chest. “I do.”
Yoongi’s gaze flares, and he pushes in a bit more. “I know you, Y/N,” he murmurs, moving one hand to your neck. Thumb brushing your collarbone, he hauls you upright and keeps your thighs spread. “I know you want this pussy filled nice and slow. I know you want me to tease you. I know you want to feel in control but have someone else do the work. And I want – no, need,” Yoongi corrects, aura flaring, “to be the one giving it to you.”
Before you can respond, he thrusts forward and fills you with his cock. A cry leaves you, unable to do anything but take it. With your legs spread, hips tilted, the thickness of his length presses to your g-spot. And when Yoongi withdraws and leaves your body empty, you think you might cry. Think you might beg to have more of his cock.
Luckily, Yoongi doesn’t want this. Thrusting into you fully, he starts to move. Filling you up with his thickness, he goes harder and harder until you can barely think straight. His hips pound yours, filling you to the brim, making you take it. Fingers brushing the jade on your throat, he spikes your arousal and drenches his cock.
“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, staring at the place he disappears inside you. “You’re amazing.”
“Yoongi,” you groan. “I need… need…”
“Yeah?” His gaze lifts. “Tell me what you need.”
“Deeper,” you plead.
His aura flares briefly before he pulls out. Before you can speak, his hands find your waist, setting you on the floor to turn you around. Spreading your legs, he presses a hand to your back to push you lower.
Gripping his dresser, you look over your shoulder while he positions himself from behind. “What about now?” Yoongi asks, slipping inside with one thrust.
Lips parting, you bend further and stick out your ass. Yoongi starts to move when you spread your legs, fucking you harder. His thrusts become rougher, hips slapping your ass while your breasts bounce.
“That’s it,” he says, leaning forward to lace one hand with yours. His other slides between your thighs, flicking over your clit. “So wet and tight for me. Taking my cock like you own it.”
“Don’t I?” you groan.
“Mm,” he agrees, rubbing circles on your clit. “It’s yours – I’m yours.”
Before you can respond, he pulls out again. Draping you over one shoulder, Yoongi carries you, Light, to his bed. You scowl, hitting his thigh but Yoongi responds with a firm smack to your ass. His fingers slip briefly between your cheeks, wetting himself with your slick. Before you can moan, he deposits you on the bed.
Kneeling between your legs, Yoongi repositions himself at your entrance and pushes in.
“Oh,” you groan, heading tilting back.
You love sex with Yoongi in every position, but this is your favorite. Feeling his callouses slide over our skin, his weight heavy while filling you with his cock. Yoongi’s length slides inside, rocking into you slowly while his hair brushes your forehead.
Reaching up, you push this from his face when he starts to move. If there’s one thing you’ve learned from tonight, it’s that these moments are precious. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you hold him tighter.
“Marry me,” Yoongi says.
You go still underneath him. “I… what?”
Sliding his hand under your hips, Yoongi tilts them to get deeper. “Marry me,” he repeats. “I’m tired of pretending. Tired of waking up without you. Living my life without you.”
“You have me,” you say, unsure whether he’s serious.
Slowly, he thrusts in and out of your body. “Not the way I want.” His eyes flash. “As not only my Horn, but my wife. I want to be your husband. I want the entire world to know I belong to you.”
Taking your other hand, Yoongi moves this to the bed while continuing to thrust. You arch against him, chasing his hips and words with your own.
“People will talk,” you say, breathless.
His gaze sparks. “Do you think I care?”
“Maybe I care,” you say. “They’ll call me a distraction. And don’t give me that bullshit about my life being worth more than yours.”
“I wouldn’t dare,” Yoongi chuckles, teeth scraping your neck. “What I will say is that I’m better with you. And if I’m better, the clan is better. Not that you should marry me because of that,” he adds, almost an afterthought.
You lose your breath when he circles his hips, driving into you deeper. Thighs parting, you lose yourself in the feel of him in you. His body moves as his soul does, completing you fully. In truth, you’ve avoided this conversation because you know how it ends.
It ends with Yoongi. He’s it for you. From the first time you kissed, you knew it would end up here – it was only a matter of when. Your remaining barriers crumble as you meet his gaze.
“Yes,” you exhale, your hips chasing his.
Yoongi’s aura sharpens. “Yes?” he repeats. “Is that… agreement or acceptance?”
“Yes – as in yes, Yoongi, I’ll marry you.”
Yoongi goes completely still, ignoring your protest. A second later, he’s consumed by a wave of emotion. Need – fiery and stark – sweeps through him as he bends, crushing your lips to his. Yoongi’s kiss burns, searing and marking you for one another.
Slipping an arm beneath your knee, Yoongi pushes upward to get even deeper. You gasp with pleasure, his cock hitting a spot that makes you incoherent.
“Soon,” he adds, adding Strength to his thrusts.
Breathless, your fingertips dig into his skin. “Don’t be greedy,” you chide, losing some credibility when a moan leaves your lips.
His upper lip curls. “I am, though,” Yoongi grunts, pushing you close to the edge. “I’ll never have enough of you, Y/N.”
“Good,” you say, holding him tightly. “I’m yours, Yoongi.”
A groan escapes him, burying his face in your neck. The muscles in Yoongi’s shoulders strain, fucking you harder. “I could die hearing those words.”
“Don’t. That’s an order.”
Yoongi looks up to lock gazes. “Whatever you want. I need it, Y/N. Need this – want to feel you come on my cock.”
Already close to the edge, his words leave you trembling. Clutching him harder, you widen your thighs and feel your walls shatter when you come undone. Pleasure consumes you, vision going dark as you throw back your head. Yoongi’s lips brush your throat, continuing to thrust through your orgasm.
Swearing when you tighten, Yoongi goes harder to chase his release. On his last thrust, he breaks, your name on his tongue as hot cum fills your body. Slowly, he lowers himself to the bed beside you. Yoongi slips partway out, your bodies still intertwined.
Lifting a hand, you drag this down his side. Yoongi smiles at you before pulling out, reaching to grab a tissue from his nightstand. He cleans you with care, then rises from bed to throw it away. Slipping beneath the covers, you wait for his return.
Yoongi does so quietly, dimming the light before he joins you in bed. Slowly, your eyes adjust until Yoongi’s moon-limned face becomes visible.
“Did you mean it?” you say, barely more than a whisper.
“I’ve never meant anything more in my life,” he says roughly. “And you? Did you also mean what you said?”
Slowly, you nod.
Joy floods his aura, sharp and bright. “Anything you want,” Yoongi says, determined. “You have only to ask. Cities burnt. Villains vanquished. My own name, forsaken – ask, and it’s yours.”
You can’t help but laugh, your whole body shaking. “Villains vanquished?” you tease, pressing closer. “There are some who might call you the villain of this story.”
His lip twitches. “Then, I’ll defeat myself.”
“Seems like an easy fight.”
Mock growling, he rolls to pin you underneath him. You laugh louder, the sound muffled when Yoongi bends to kiss you. By the time his head lifts, the two of you are breathless.
“I apologize,” you murmur, cupping his face. “Most fearsome Pillar.”
Baring his teeth, he nips your thumb. “That’s better.”
“Truly, though,” you tell him. “There’s no need to get me anything. Whatever I want, I can get for myself.”
Somewhat amused, Yoongi settles beside you. “Oh, I’m aware. My heart, for instance,” he says, placing your hand on his chest.
“That, I’ll accept,” you say softly, staring at your hand on his skin. Your gaze lifts. “As long as mine belongs to you, in turn.”
“A heart for a heart,” Yoongi agrees, moving closer.
Skin pressed to skin, you feel your hearts settle. No Green Bone magic ties two souls together. Instead, that magic lies within the bounds of normal humans. And yet, as you breathe and listen to the blood in his veins, you can’t help but feel something greater is at work.
Something even death could not part – although you’d dare it to try.
© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission.
Author’s Note: thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Go read Jade City by Fonda Lee. LOL
#bangtanarmynet#yoongi fanfic#yoongi smut#bts fanfic#bts smut#yoongi fic#yoongi fanfiction#bts fanfiction#bts fic#yoongi organized crime#bts organized crime
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Burning Out • Who’s the Culprit?
Moodboard
“Where is she,” His voice was muffled from the mask, deep and antagonizing as he held the threat menacingly.
I shook my head, hands held up high in surrender, “Who the hell are you talking about?”
“You think I’m stupid?” The man scoffed, turning his head to look at his companion before back at me.
“You assholes were following us. I don’t know who you’re talking about and what you want.” my demeanour was cold, and overly calm considering the circumstances. I was a ticking time bomb, ready to lunge at any second.
A deep laugh erupted behind the same mask, “I will shoot you. Get her out here.”
I scoffed, lowering my hands, “Look, we don’t have anything you want. So, I think we’re done here.”
The gun pointed toward me clicked, and I swallowed harshly, staring at the barrel.
“Y/N,” The man said, her name foreign and vile as it trailed from his mouth. He knew she was there.
#burning out moodboard#burning out fanfic#bad omens#noah sebastian#bad omens cult#bad omens band#noah sebastian davis#sorrows of silence#crime fanfic#heist moodboard#anonymous
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Aravos showed up,possessed Callum, roasted everybody,blew a kiss and dipped in the most dramatic way possible.
Theater kid material
#rayllum fanfic#the dragon prince#rayllum#tdp spoilers#tdp#tdp callum#tdp claudia#tdp ezran#tdp rayllum#rayla#tdp season 4#and this is coming from a theater kid myself#ive never loved an antagonist more in my life like you go star man commit those crimes manipulate everybody
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not sure if someone has done this already, but here's a collection of my favorite hugh laurie answers to (mostly the house md) questions from a livejournal q&a in 2009
(you can find the link to these and the rest of his answers archived here)
#im obsessed with how he knew what fanfic was in 2009 and also called it housefic. hes so cool#also: 'i think he will find someone' ☹️#house md#hate crimes md#hugh laurie#gregory house#james wilson#hilson (is the someone he finds)#huddy#speaking into the ether
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platonic partners in crime
feel free to use:)
“i give you ten minutes until you realize i’m literally right.” “i give you two until you stop talking.” “…….. alright.”
“i am just so fond of you.” “i am quite great, aren’t i?” “never mind.”
i just <3333 when they’re verrrry diff ages as well! like a stern elderly woman and a twenty something who get along well
“i failed the test.” “same…” “TWINNN!!?!?”
being apart and thinking of them everywhere
^ like that cute doll reminds me of them, and this food reminds me of them
that late night call just cause they’re bored
one character is literally insane and does the most random and unserious things and the other is just like yeah haha normal day around these parts
“you are the bane of my existence.” “and you love me still.” “….. and i love you still.”
the vows if one of them gets married, and them just both sobbing
^^ also when they’re best friends with their best friends s/o as well… let’s let the “they can’t be just friends trope” go!
being best friends with their best friend’s children… bonus if the child refers to them as “aunty/uncle name”
#platonic prompts#platonic partners in crime#writeblr#writing#writing tips#writing advice#writing prompts#dialogue prompts#otp prompts#fanfic prompts
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hi!!! How are you? Could i request a James Wilson x reader were she’s at the hospital working with children (and we all know that james has a breeding kink) so like he sees her being caring with the children and gets turned on
Hi!! Tysm for being my first request, I’ve been a lil busy so this is coming out a little late I’m sorry 🩷🩷 I hope you like it!!!
A/N: (Sorry if this is too short!!) Do hospitals have play rooms for kids? They do now! Also do heads of pediatrics have time to play with kids? They do now!
CW: public sex, p in v, breeding (obviously), pet name baby
⚕️You’re going to make such a good mom.
James Wilson X Fem!Reader Smutshot
———————————————————
You were head of the pediatric wing and married to your beautiful, amazing, lovely husband, James Wilson. He would always stop by your office to give you gifts and small kisses. The job could get stressful at times, and he just wanted to make sure it never got to be too hard on you. You didn’t take it for granted either, returning every kiss he gave you and repaying him for the little gifts he got you after work. Today though, he couldn’t wait.
You were working with one of the children you had been treating for the past few days, nothing too bad fortunately, he was diagnosed with diabetes. Both of you lay down in the play room as the little boy made car noises with his mouth. “Zoom!” he hummed as a hot wheel jetted across the room. Wilson was looking for you to give you your usual afternoon kisses, and because he had a particularly hard case that he wanted to talk to you about. It was really weighing on him it seemed. When he couldn’t find you in your office, he assumed you would be in the play room with one of the patients. He hadn’t often found you here, and when he did he looked at you with such adoration, but this time he looked at you with something else as he peered through the glass door of the play room. Lust. James knew he wanted kids and he knew you were the one that he’d have them with. You were so good with them after all, and he knew that, but seeing you care for kids made him hard. He wanted that so badly. He wanted to see you make his kid laugh and smile with you; and he wanted it now.
You noticed your husband peering at you through the glass, and you gave the kid the toy car you were playing with and told him you’d be right back, along with the nurse who supervised the play room as well. You pushed open the door and stood across from James.
“Hey baby I—“
Your sentence was quickly cut off by a kiss planted on your mouth. But this kiss wasn’t like how it was any other day, this kiss was needy. Hungry. He didn’t want to wait for you to finish your sentence he just wanted to fill you with his seed right now. You were still in the hospital corridor and you pulled away.
“James, can you wait until we get home?” When the kiss was sloppier, messier, hungrier, you knew he wanted more, and you weren’t sure that you could give him that in the middle of the hospital. He wasn’t happy with you pulling away, he needed you right now. He took your hand and dragged you into a corner of the hospital no one went to. The thought of being caught was still in your mind, but at this point both you and james were turned on beyond belief. He always knew what to do to get you horny.
“No.” He hissed, and you weren’t used to him speaking to you like this, but fuck you could adjust. He titled your head to the side and started marking you up, planting deep kisses on your neck as his hands wandered on your waist, he sat down on a nearby chair and pulled you into his lap. With the case he was working on now, he needed a distraction, and you were just that. “You’re so good..” he moaned onto your neck, sending vibrations down your spine, earning him a small moan back from you.
“James…” your hands found themselves moving up into his hair. His hands found themselves moving down towards your panties. He looked up at you with glimmering eyes, “Can I?” He asked. Despite your previous worries you nodded eagerly at him and a small smirk appeared on his face as he tugged your underwear to the side. Quickly, he fumbled with the zipper of his jeans and pulled down the waistband to his boxers. His boner sprang to his stomach and he made haste in getting himself inside of you. That was his goal. You’re off the pill, you’re ovulating, and you’re ready to be pumped full of his hot, sticky, cum.
“I think we should have kids.” He says dominantly and you nod in agreement, not wasting any time. Even though you were okay with it, and he knew, he always made sure you were accepting before he did anything.
You moan out as he pushes himself inside of you, without much warning. He covers your mouth with his hand for only a second, reminding you where you both were. The thrusts that were usually so slow and soft and patient were now eager, fast, and yearning.
His cock stretched your cunt and you tightened around him, earning small grunts in return.
“You’re gonna look so fucking gorgeous when I cum inside of you.”
Even with his already fast pace it somehow quickened, earning more muffled moans from you and heavy breaths from him. He added his thumb to your clit, circling as he thrusted, wanting to make sure you were feeling just as good as he did. In the middle of the hospital, on his lunch break, he was going to make sure your walls were painted white with his cum.
“Fuck James, you feel so fucking good.”
You clenched on him and felt a familiar knot in your stomach tighten, and he knew you were close. You both were about to finish at the same time, his throbbing cock begging to cum inside of you already.
“I’m gonna—“
“Me too baby.”
Your back arches and your legs shake; you crash into James’ shoulder and after a few minutes of heavy breathing he pulls your soaked panties back up to you and plants a small kiss to your forehead. “You’re going to make such a good mom, I know it.”
You just had to hope your kids didn’t ask how it happened in the future.
#fanfic#house md#gregory house#james wilson#oneshot#hate crimes md#headcanon#dr wilson#smutshot#smut#breeding k1nk#pediatrics#james wilson x reader
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