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kpop---scenarios · 4 years

Text

Bound To You

Commissioned by: @skittlez-area512

Genre: Mafia! Arranged Marriage! AU

Warning: Smut, Launguage

Word Count: 5.7k

If you had the slightest choice of the family you were born into, you absolutely would not have picked the one you got.

Growing up your father drank, alot. He yelled constantly, always slapping your mother when she politely asked him to keep quiet as he was scaring the children.

"Fuck them kids." Was his response. Your father never told you he loved you, never told you he was proud of you for graduating top of your class in highschool despite him being such a piece of shit. As stupid as it sounded, and as much as you hated the man, you wanted the validation from him. You wanted to know if he had any kind of bond with you, even the smallest.

But that never came. The only time he was even remotely nice was when he needed something. When they were out of money and you were working so you had to support his drinking and gambling addictions, or he'd raise his hand to you. Your brother, who was 4 years older than you also still lived at home. He did his best to protect you and your mother from your father's fists but he worked a lot. He was responsible for paying the bills since your father refused to work, and wouldn't allow your mother to work, because in his mind she would cheat on him.

You hated it here, but even at the age of 23, you couldn't leave. Even when he hit you, you couldn't leave your mother alone with him. Your father would kill her. There was no doubt in your mind.

You sat on the couch, the house was quiet. You could hear your mother weeping in the kitchen, your father nowhere to be found. He had freaked out on everyone, slapping your mother before taking off out the front door.

His absence was extremely welcomed. You turn your head focusing on the show playing on the TV, when you hear yelling outside, that seemed to be coming closer. The front door of your house swung open, your dad being shoved to the floor of the entrance.

"Where is she?" A voice snaps.

"Ayn! Get over here!" Your father spits from the floor. Slowly you rise from the couch, reaching for your mother who came from the kitchen."Ayn!" He yells again.

"What?" You snap, standing above the drunk man.

"This is her." He huffs.

You look over to the large men accompanying your father, who are now looking at you carefully.

"Will he approve." A deep voice says. "Taeyang, grab her." The man says.

"Thank you! Thank you!" Your father gravels at the man's feet.

"Your debt is cleared. Do not return." He snaps, leaving To walk out the door. The other man grabs your arm tightly, Yanking you towards him following the other man of the door.

"What the hell are you doing!?" You snap, trying to fight the man off.

"You didn't warn her?" Taeyang scoffs.

"Why should I? Useless bitch." Your father laughs.

Without hesitation, the tall man swiftly kicks your father in the stomach, resulting in the sound of ribs crunching.

"Your father sold you to Kwon Jiyong, to pay off his gambling debts." He tells you. "You will marry Jiyong in one month."

"Do I not get a say!? This isn't even his life! It's mine! You can't use me as your payment!" You scream.

"I can and I did." Your father coughs. "Take her."

The man throws you over this shoulder, knowing you wouldn't go easily. You fought as hard as you could, but it didn't work. You were stuck, your fate was unknown and you were terrified. The door shut behind you, and all you could hear were the sobs and pleas of your distraught mother fading away as you're put into a van and taken away.

"Please don’t kill me." You sob. You just knew that was your fate, and absolutely something your father would do. The wedding they had mentioned earlier couldn't actually be true.

"What?" Taeyang laughs. "You're not dying."

"Although, you will probably wish you were dead." One mumbles.

"I mean you're not wrong, Daesung." Taeyang smirks.

"Enough. You know GD has microphones in here." The tall one snaps.

"Right." They both sigh.

"But I can't actually get married." You scoff.

"You are. One month." Daesung says.

"I'm only 23! I haven't even had my first love yet! I wanted to travel and do so much." You cry.

None of the three men say anything as the van pulls into a gravel driveway, stopping in front of probably the biggest house you had ever seen.

Taeyang pulls you from the back of the van, holding onto your tied hands behind you back, guiding you inside.

You walk through a grand entrance, painting littering the walls, sculptures against the walls. It smells of stale cigars and whiskey as you walk deeper into the house, passing through a nosy living room before stopping in front of a pair of grand double doors.

Daesung pushes the doors open, revealing a man standing there, his back facing you.

"She's here boss." The tall one says.

"Thank you, TOP." He snickers, turning around.

You had never seen someone as beautiful as the man who stood before you. He was wearing a dark blue suit, a neck tattoo visible. His fingers held a few rings, while his face was just.. perfect.

"She'll do." He says, smirking at you. "Take her to her room." He finishes, turning back around.

If that was who you were marrying, maybe this wouldn't be too bad.

Oh how you were so wrong.

That night he lay in your bed, in an unfamiliar room, your eyes staring at the ceiling as the events of that day flooded through your head. You wanted to know what exactly was going on and none of his men would tell you anything. They just tell you to wait for Jiyong, but when was that going to be?

Taking the initiative you get out of your bed and open the large door leading to a hallway. Quietly you sneak down the staircase heading towards the double doors you had stood in front of earlier. Taking a deep breath, you gently place your hand on the door knob Quietly turning it until you slightly pull the door open, without a sound. You peak your head inside, a gasp coming from your mouth without thinking about it.

You see a sweaty Jiyong, his hands gripped on a woman's hips as he harshly pounds into her, moans slipping from her mouth. With your eyes wide you look away, closing the door before you're caught, tiptoing back to your room, feeling quite dumb. You had wanted to talk to him, but you seem to forget what type of man he was. He's a mafia boss, the most ruthless. You needed to just stay in the shadows unless asked for or spoken too. Much like living in your parents house. Not to be seen or heard.

You fell asleep that night actually sort of missing your house, mostly just your mom.

It was a few days before you actually saw Jiyong, mostly just hangout in your room, with meals being brought to you until he returned from wherever he was.

One morning, you're woken up to the sound of clapping. It was a struggle to open your eyes, but when you did you saw Jiyong standing there, looking good in a tight fitted suit.

"Did you enjoy the show last night?" He asks, cocking his head to the side.

"I.. uh.. what?" You ask, not sure if you should just fess up to what you had witnessed.

"I know you saw. I'm asking if you enjoyed it. Yes or no, that's not a hard question to answer." He says.

You get up, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, your head hanging low.

"Im sorry. I just had some questions. I didn't see much." You whisper.

"I have nothing to hide." He smirks. "Anyways, that's not why I'm here. I'm here because of this." He pauses, pointing up and down your body. "Is not going to work."

"Kim." He calls out. A woman walks in, her face serious as she pulls you off your bed, standing you in front of them both, before forcing off the large t-shirt you slept in that night.

You stand there, stunned as they circle you, talking to each other about what needs work and what will do.

"Hair cut and colour, make up. Body is fine. Do something with those nails." Jiyong says. "Have her ready for the engagement party. Tonight." He says, walking out of the room.

"Lets go." She says, pulling your arm towards the door.

"Um. Can I put on clothes first?" You ask, looking down at your bra and panties.

"Oh. Sure." She says, letting go.

You go to your closet, picking out the easiest thing to put on, a sundress, already dreading what the day had in store for you.

Five hours later, you tiredly walked into your room, looking at a person in the mirror you didn't even recognize. Your hair was completely different, you never actually envisioned yourself with that colour. Your skin was glowing after being pummeled and smoothed, the smell you radiated reminded you of a bakery your mother used to take you too.

The glow you had was hard to miss, but you kind of liked it. You smiled at yourself, but we're almost blinded by the whiteness of your teeth, it was almost too much. Your stomach drops, you don't know who this person standing before you is. You try anything to make yourself feel like yourself, but it doesn't work. This was your life now. You had appearances to keep up, better get used to it now.

You hear a knock at your door before it opens immediately after. "Miss." A man calls out. "You have 20 minutes until it's time to go." He says, making you remember that tonight was the night you announce your engagement to everyone Jiyong knows.

With a forced smile on your face you slip into the strapless dark satin dress that hugged your curves, as well as showed off your legs with a long slit up the sides. You stared at yourself in the mirror, in a dress that was the most flattering thing you had ever seen yourself in. You may not know who you were, but damn you looked good.

You slid on your heels, strapping them on before heading out the door, meeting one of Jiyong's men outside your door.

"He's waiting at the bottom of the stairs." He tells you.

Without a word, you take a step down, heading towards your fiance that you knew nothing about.

You see him standing there, adjusting the cuffs of his suit before looking up, a small smile crossing his face before it goes back straight.

"That looks much better. You look good." He says, walking away leaving you trailing behind him.

"Thanks." You whisper, rolling your eyes.

The entire car ride to the party was spent with Jiyong telling you what not to say, so when you finally pulled up to the venue, you were more than ready to get out and talk to anyone else. But before you could go in, he handed you a beautiful and large diamond ring to slide onto your ring finger for your engagement ring.

You walked into the grand building, everything was so elegant. Waiters circled the floor with the most expensive champagne, waitresses with finger foods, the ceiling sparkled from the chandelier and the lights, gentle music played in the corner of the room.

It truly was beautiful.

However, you didn't get to take a lot of time to take it all in. Within seconds there were people coming up to you and Jiyong, introducing themselves, asking to see your ring and how the wedding planning was going. It was all a lot to take in.

"Excuse me." You smile at the people who circled you and Jiyong, whispering in his ear that you were going to go to the bathroom.

You needed a few minutes to yourself, to calm down and ease your anxiety. This was just a lot.

When you finished in the bathroom, you were making your way back to Jiyong when you were stopped by a man.

"Hello there beautiful." He says, stepping in front of you.

"Hello." You respond with a small smile.

"My my my, just how did Mr. Kwon pull someone like you?" He asks.

"I'm sorry?"

"I just want to know how he managed to get someone like you? You look like you'd be a much better fit for someone like, oh I don't know, me." He smirks, reaching over to touch your arm.

"Isn't that a shame, Jackson that she is in fact mine, and not yours." Jiyong spits, walking over to stand beside you. He effortlessly slides his arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

"Ahh, I suppose. But she could be mine. If she so chose." Jackson winks.

"I'll pass." You smile. "I'm happy where I am."

"You sure, sweetheart? I could make you happier." He offers.

"I don't think you could." You say, turning your head to give Jiyong a kiss on the cheek.

"I believe the lady has spoken." Jiyong says, clearing his throat. He had not been expecting that from you, but he liked it.

You give Jackson a small smile before Jiyong guides you away, placing his glass down on the bar before you and he exited the building before getting in his car. The ride was silent, you spent most of it playing with your fingers with your head down, not knowing what you should say or if you should say anything. Jiyong kept one hand locked on the steering wheel, staring straight at the road, but the one thing you noticed was that his knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel hard. Something had made him mad, but what?

When the two of you arrived back at the house, Jiyong stormed from the car and towards the house before stopping in his tracks.

"Don't get it twisted." He began. "I don't fucking want you, but you're still mine and I don't share." He spits before going into the house, heading to his office and slamming the door. You stood outside the door for a few minutes, debating on whether you should knock or not when you heard him yelling.

"Don't you ever disrespect me like that again!" You hear him yell. "I'll pull all my fucking connections from your crew Jackson, don't fucking test me." He snaps before slamming down the phone.

Over the next few days, you had spent your time wandering around, reading, watching shows, but also getting close to some of his men. Specifically Taeyang and Daesung. They made you laugh so often, sometimes you'd catch Jiyong staring at you as you laughed, or watching you when you walked past him. You tried not to over analyze it but your brain couldn't help it. This was the man you now had to spend your life with, you wanted him to feel something, anything.

The night before the wedding, you couldn't sleep. You were terrified to get married to a mafia leader, especially one as terrifying as Jiyong. You had heard the rumors of what he had done and what he was capable of and part of you was scared that if you did anything to make him mad, he would make you disappear.

Tired of tossing and turning, you got out of your bed, going to look at the backyard that had been set up for your wedding. The lights, the flowers, decorations, the way the chairs were set up, everything looked beautiful. If you had been marrying a man you loved you would have felt giddy and excited for this but instead you were nervous.

"Looks good, doesn't it?" You hear from behind you.

Turning your head, you see Daesung standing there, with his arms crossed.

"It's beautiful." You whisper.

"You should get some sleep. You've got a long day tomorrow." He says, nodding his head towards the door.

"I know." You sigh, heading back in with him trailing you.

"Try to get some sleep." He says, standing at the bottom of the stairs, right across from Jiyong's office. Before you could say anything or go upstairs, you hear a female giggle from inside his office.

"Aren't you getting married tomorrow?" You hear the girl ask.

"Yeah, but it's strictly for business. Bitch means nothing to me." You hear Jiyong say before the woman giggles again.

"Ayn.." Daesung starts but you don't stick around yo hear anymore. You run up the stairs, slamming the door to your room before crawling into your bed.

This life was going to be hell.

You fought back tears the entire day of your wedding. You held them back while your shitty father walked you down the aisle to the man who wanted nothing to do with you.

You held them back as you were announced man and wife by the minister, and Jiyong pulled you in for a kiss while everyone cheered.

You held them back as the DJ announced Mr. And Mrs. Kwon Jiyong, and your first dance as a married couple.

You barely touched your food, your smile was forced during pictures, especially the ones with Jiyong. You knew you could see the sadness and hurt in your eyes but everyone chose to ignore it.

"What's your issue?" Your father asks during the forced father and daughter dance.

"I didn't want this." You growl through your teeth.

"Be grateful anyone wants you, but especially a man like him? You should be worshipping me for doing this for you." He spits.

"Im in this shitty situation because of you! Like hell I'd ever thank you."

"Ungrateful little fucking brat." Your father sneers.

"Im done." You say, ripping your hands from his grip before walking away, even though you still had more than half the song to go.

"You okay?" Daesung asks, sitting beside you at your table while Jiyong mingled.

"I guess. Shitty husband, shitty father, shitty life. It is what it is." You sigh, watching Jiyong walk over to you with a smile and his hand held out for you, wanting you to dance.

"My wife." He smiles. You force a smile, placing your hand in his, letting him lead you to the dance floor but you knew it was just for appearances. On what should be your special wedding night, you knew he would likely end up with his dick in someone else, like usual.

As the night came to an end, you were exhausted as you crawled into your new bed. Now that you were married you had to keep up appearances, according to Jiyong. He has moved you into his room now, incase of any surprise visits or anything. Nothing could look suspicious, or not like the two of you weren't actually married.

As you rolled over to face the wall, you felt the bed dip beside you. Honestly, you had expected him to work in his office or do whatever, but definitely not come to bed.

When you woke up the next morning, he was gone, not really a surprise to you. However, what was a surprise was that for the next week, he ended up in bed with you either when you went to bed or a little bit later. He never said anything to you, just crawled in and went to sleep but a part of you liked it. You enjoyed having someone to sleep next too.

A few weeks later, you said good night to Taeyang and Daesung, giving Jiyong a small smile before heading for the stairs. Your heart fluttered when you looked at him. As much as you tried to stop it, you fell for him and you hated yourself for doing so. It was a little earlier than you normally went to bed but you were bored.

"Wait." Jiyong calls out. "Where are you going?" He asks. "Not to bed right?"

"Um, well yeah, I was planning on going to bed." You say, avoiding eye contact.

"We have that opening. You have to get ready." He says.

Fuck. Taeyang had told you about it weeks ago and it had totally slipped your mind. "Right." You sigh. "I'll get ready quickly." You say, running up the stairs.

You finished your makeup in record time, opting for a subtle but dark look to go along with your short dark dress with a slit up the side. You quickly slip on a pair of heels before descending down the staircase where you hear a small "wow" slip from Jiyongs lips. A smile quickly washes over you before it disappears, not wanting him to know you heard that.

You walk with Jiyong to the car, where he opens the door for you, allowing you to slide in before he goes around to the drivers side, taking off quickly.

"I have a meeting when we get there at first." He explains. "Say your name at the bar and he won't charge you, just hangout for a bit until I'm done and then I'll come get you." He says, giving you a small smile.

You nod your head, letting him know you understand as your stomach fills with butterflies.

Jiyong gives you a small wave as he walks away from you, leaving you in a crowded club by yourself. You walk over to the bar, ordering a few shots before giving him your name.

"Under Kwon Ayn." You say, slightly enjoying the look of terror on his face when he realized who your husband was.

The man gave you your four shots of tequila, which you took all in a row, standing there for a minute while the liquor worked its magic. Just as you felt it kick in, one of your favorite songs began playing, drawing you out to the dance floor. Without any hesitation you walked to the dance floor and began moving your hips, swaying to the beat of the song.

It didn't take long for you tk feel a pair of hands grip your hips and someone to push themselves against you. Honestly, you had thought it was Jiyong, but when you leaned your head back and you saw it was a man you had never seen before. You felt your body tense up as you tried to move away from him but his grip tightened, not letting you leave.

"What's the rush, baby?" He whispers in your ear. Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe it was the fact that your husband didn't want you, but it felt nice to be touched, to be wanted. You wanted someone, you had needs too that weren't being met.

You turned around, sliding your arms around his neck, whispering in his ear. "Im Ayn."

"Suho." He beams, pulling you in closer.

For the next few minutes, you couldn't help the giant smile that was plastered on your face as you and Suho danced, while he whispered in your ear. It felt nice to have someone be close with you and make you feel things and want you. You were tired of your one sided love, it was nice to have some sort of feeling returned.

It was nice while it lasted. You happened to look up, the smile on your face fading as you saw Jiyong staring at you with Suho, his fists squeezed into balls at his sides while his face looked right pissed.

You quickly try to pull away from Suho but he just laughs, and pulls you in closer. Your eyes widen as you watch Jiyong walk down the stairs, pushing his way through the crowd until he stands behind Suho. He taps him on the shoulder, and Suho turns around. When he does, Jiyong's fist immediately connects with Suho's face, knocking him to the ground.

"Get your fucking hands off my wife." He spits, grabbing your wrist, pulling you towards the bathroom.

Jiyong pulls you into the men's bathroom, closing the door behind you. "What the fuck was that?" He spits.

"It was nice to be touched." You say, shrugging your shoulders. "A girl has needs too, you know." You say, that fucking tequila making you braver than you've ever been.

"And what kind of needs do you have?" He asks, walking closer to you until you're pinned against the door.

"I need to be touched, and wanted.. fucked." You breathe, Jiyong's face inches closer to yours. His hands reach down to touch your thighs, slipping his fingers under your dress as you spread your legs slightly for him.

“Touched like this?" He asks, gliding his fingers across your clothed pussy.

You shudder at the feeling, your knees buckling. Jiyong grabs your hand, bringing you to the counter where he puts his hands on your hips, helping you hop onto the counter. Uoj spread your legs causing your dress to ride up. He pulls you closer to the edge before moving your dress up fully and out of his way as he groans at the sight of your already dripping pussy.

Jiyong spreads your lips with his fingers, leaning forward to give you a few kitten licks on your clit, just light enough to tease the fuck out of you.

You let out a small gasp. "More. Please" you beg. The second those words left your mouth, Jiyong quickly dived in, licking you all the way up with the flat of his tongue, moving it up and down. Your hands grip the edge of the counter tightly, your knuckles turning white. Jiyong's hands hold onto your thighs as he suctions his lips directly around your clit, sucking harshly, making you grind yourself on hks face.

"I'm.. shit. I'm gonna cum." You cry, circling your hips as your orgasm washes through your body.

“This is going to have to be quick baby" Jiyong smirks, standing up and unbuckling his belt, while you have a few seconds to recover. He slides down his pants just enough to allow his cock to spring free. Your mouth waters at the sight of it, his thick, large cock dripping pre cum already.

“Please fuck me." You groan, spreading your legs more. Jiyong lines himself up with your entrance, ramming his cock inside of you, making you scream. He quickly pulls back out and thrusts back in, giving you no time to adjust to jis large size.

"Yeah baby, let everyone know you're mine. Who's making you scream." He grunts as he thrusts himself in and out of you.

Jiyong had himself angled at the perfect position to be able to have your clit rub up against him as he fucked you on the counter. Your tits had fallen out of your strapless dress, making Jiyong lean forward, taking one in his mouth, sucking on it while never slowing his pace.

“You gonna cum again?" he breathes. His words build your orgasm, the knot getting tighter and tighter with every harsh thrust.

“Fuck." You cry out, grabbing onto your breast, squeezing as your eyes roll back into your head, the sensation of your second orgasm overwhelming.

“Cum in my pussy." You cry out, wanting to feel him fill you up with his juice.

Second later, Jiyong grunts as he releases himself into you, coating your walls with his cum. He pulls himself out of you, pulling his pants up before helping you off the counter.

"Let's get you home and clean up." He murmurs, taking your hand and leading you through the club where you tried to avoid many looks from people who definitely knew what you had just done in there.

The ride home was quiet. You had a million things you wanted to ask hkm, like what did that mean but you chose to stay silent. You didn't want to ruin the high of your very good mood, in case the conversation didn't go the way you were hoping it would.

After you got home and took a shower, you crawled into bed next to Jiyong who was facing your way instead of out into the room. You laid down, facing him, your eye closed, not wanting to look at him.

"Listen.." je begins. You open your eyes.

"I get it. You don't have to say anything. That was a one time thing. It's fine." You whisper.

"What? Why do you think it's only a one time thing?" He asks.

"I overheard you the night before our wedding." You breathe. "Bitch means nothing to me." You quote.

"That was then. This is now. Over the last few weeks of watching you, being near you, your energy, your smile, everything about you, I'm falling. Hard." He tells you. "Look at me."

You open your eyes, looming into jis pleading eyes. He wants you to believe him, to see that he's telling you the truth.

"I am too." You whisper, a smile creeping up on your face.

That night you fell asleep embraced in Jiyong's arms, finally everything felt like it was going to be okay. But that's just life isn't it? Making you believe things are finally working out when in reality, everything is about to fall apart.

The next morning you woke up and stretched while Jiyong's hold on you tightened.

"Good morning." You whisper.

"Mhmm." He answers, reaching under your shirt to cup your breast. "Yes it is."

You stick out your ass into his crotch, his hard cock poking you. "Tease." He moans.

"Me? I never." You gasp, wiggling from his grip. You roll him onto his back, pull the covers from jkm before you pull his boxers down and you allow his morning wood to spring free.

You move yourself between his legs, gripping his shaft with your one hand before opening your mouth and wrapping it afound hks cocm.

"Oh god." He moans, his hands resting behind his head.

You bob your head up and down, sucking harshly while also moving your tongue around the tip of his cock, making him moan.

"Fuck that feels amazing." He groans as you cup his balls, gently playing with them.

You force yourself down as far as you can, his cock sliding down your throat. "Please ride me." He moans, bucking his hips.

You let go of his cocm with a pop, getting up and standing over him. You bunch up the bottom of your shirt, as you lower yourself down, sinking down onto his cock.

"Oh my god." You cry as he stretches you out. Without any hesitation you begin bouncing on his cock, your hands resting on his chest. He brings his hands to your sides, moving your hips to go back and forward.

"Shit baby." He groans, moving you faster on his cock. You slow down the pace, dragging yourself against him, rubbing your clit against him, building your orgasm faster.

You lean yourself forward, bouncing hard on him, craving orgasm, needing to feel it spread through your body again.

"Cum for me." He moans, his hands still on your hips, now helping you move faster.

"I'm gonna.." you begin before your orgasm hits, making your body shudder as your eyes roll bzcl. Jiyong keeps his hands on your hips, keeling your bouncing on his cock as he chases his orgasm while you ride through your high.

"That's it baby." He grunts, moving you faster. "Just like that.. just like.. ahhh." Hr yells out, his cum spitting inside of you.

"Shower?" He asks, helping you slide off his cock. A small giggle escapes from your lips as you nod your head, making your way to the shower before him.

A few hours later while Jiyong, Taeyang and Daesung had business to attend to, you relaxed on the couch with a good book when your cell phone rang. Looking at the contact you saw it was your mother and you knew she never called unless it was an emergency.

"Hello?" You answer.

"Ayn.. please.. help." She whispers into the phone sounding terrified. "Please." She begs before the line goes dead.

Without a second thought you snuck into Jiyong's office and grabbed the first pair of keys you saw, before speaking to the garage without alerting T.O.P. You couldng risk him coming along and something happening. You got in the car and started it before opening the garage door, speeding out of there as soon as you could, leaving T.O.P behind who had pulled out his phone, no doubt to call Jiyong.

Forty-five minutes later you made it to your old house, taking the keys from the car you quickly ran inside the house, which was far too quiet for your liking.

"Mom?" You call out.

You can hear her whimpering from the kitchen. You go there and see her huddled on the floor, her head in her hands.

"Mom. Are you okay?" You ask, walking towards her.

"Im sorry Ayn.. i'm so sorry." She whispers.

"Sorry for what.." before you can complete your sentence you are grabbed from behind, and taken outside by two men you had never seen. You see your father standing there, a smile on his face.

"What the hell!" You yell trying to struggle out of the grip of the men.

"You are his now." Your father says. "He paid me a lot of money for you." He chuckles.

"What? You already gave me to Jiyong to settle your debt." You say.

"Yes and now he wants you and already paid a large sum, so you're his." He says.

"Who is he!? Let me go!" You yell.

"Hello beautiful." You hear. Looking up you see Suho standing there with his head cocked to the side and a smile on his face.

"You." You breathe. "Please let me go." You beg.

"Nah. I wasn't too impressed with your husband last night and now your father has so graciously sold you to me. So you're mine now." He smirks, nodding his head to the side. The men who were holding you, take you to the van, tossing you in there without a care while your father ignores your pleas for help and walks back into his house. The van drives off, leaving you crying, banging on the window begging for someone to save you, hoping Jiyong would save you.

#kwon jiyong smut #jiyong fanfic #jiyong scenarios #jiyong smut #jiyong mafia #mafia au #big bang mafia #big bang fanfic #g dragon #g dragon smut #g dragon mafia #kpop fanfic #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop icons #kpop writing #kpop imagines

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dwaynepride · 5 years

Text

Wishful Thinking

Summary: Palm reading. Dank basements. And a very skeptical Sebastian Lund.

Words: 4,164

Warnings: None

Tags: @stanathanxoox @pageofultron @starryrevelations @thebeckyjolene @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty

Notes: highkey inspired by that one “avatar the last airbender” episode bc im trashy like that

Sebastian had successfully buried himself in his work. It was a difficult feat, with all the distractions around the office. For a while, he wondered if he’d actually be able to get anything done tonight. You’d think the peace and quiet would lend itself as the ideal working environment, but evidently not.

Because you started laughing again. Echoed and distant in the kitchen, but still loud enough to cut through Sebastian’s focus and pull his head up to look over.

He exhales slowly, eyebrows pulling together as he wonders - not for the first time tonight - what the hell that little old lady was saying to make you laugh so much. Madame Theresa was a fortune teller, not a comedian. She read palms and dealt tarot cards all day - and yet, you were laughing like old friends.

Sebastian’s never been one to believe in fortune tellers. They’re a diamond dozen in New Orleans, and if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. It was just a stroke of bad luck that Madame Theresa happened to be the sole witness in their case. The only person who saw the attack on the dead Lieutenant she had just scammed- no, told his fortune for a fee.

He had no doubt she was probably spouting out the same nonsense to you. She’s been reading everybody’s palms all day.

And yet, despite his reluctance to believe a single word she says, Sebastian can’t deny how curious he is. What she’s telling you. He blames his inner scientist, but Sebastian knows he’s just curious about anything that involves you.

He hesitates. Glances to the front door before standing from his desk and sneaking to the kitchen archway with silent feet. Sebastian flattens himself against the wall, heart beating just a little faster once you speak up again; louder, because he’s so much closer. “Can you tell me something specific? About my future?” You ask, voice bright and curious and Sebastian can’t stifle just a small wave of affection.

“Specific how?”

Madame Theresa’s strong Southern drawl wipes it away.

You hesitate, letting out a shy little huff of air, and he can imagine you shrugging. “Uh, well, about my love life.”

Oh, Score. He came at just the right time. Any sense of guilt about eavesdropping melts away at the intense curiosity Sebastian feels at the fortune teller’s answer. Not that it matters, anyway. It was just a scam.

There’s a bit of silence, maybe a small hum as Madame Theresa reads your palm. Sebastian’s heart beats faster, and he’s suddenly worried about not being able to hear her answer. But then she speaks, her drawl as confident and mystic as it always is. “You already know the person you’re destined to marry.”

“Really?”

Really? Sebastian pushes his head closer to the opening.

“Yes. He’s a very good man. Perhaps not somebody you ever thought you would fall in love with when you met him. But it’s as clear as day, honey, that you two are written in the stars.”

Could it possibly be him? Madame Theresa’s words were vague, at best. But Sebastian doesn’t have much time to dwell on the predication before you speak up again. “Do you know who it is? Like, a specific person?”

Oh man.

“I don’t. But I can tell you what he’s like...”

“Sebastian?”

The sound of his name, loud and ringing through the office, puts a rod in the agent’s spine. He straightens up, whipping away from the archway and looking over as Pride and Tammy come in from the open door. “What’re you doing?” Pride continues as he goes behind his desk.

Sebastian leans against the staircase, attempting to seem nonchalant while panicking internally. “Me? I’m not doing anything.” Smooth.

Gregorio gives a disbelieving snort, her eyebrows knitted together. “Didn’t look like nothing,” she counters.

“I was stretching my legs.”

He holds his breath, preparing himself for a barrage of questions. But movement to his left makes Sebastian turn his head, watching you pad out of the kitchen with Madame Theresa in tow. They must have heard the commotion of Gregorio’s accusations, but the only thing Sebastian notices is the light smile on your face. Barely there, but he sees it.

You turn and look at him. Eyes meeting for a moment before he lowers his gaze with a sudden fierce blush. Did you know he’d been spying?

Sebastian eventually registers Pride’s voices in the background, talking to the fortune teller. “-appreciate your cooperation, your statements really helped us. Agent Y/N can take you now.”

“No, I can do it.”

The offer to taxi the Madame home was out before Sebastian could reel it in. In an instant, all eyes were on him, and he struggled not to shrink under the attention of his team. You, especially, since you seemed to surprised. “I mean, Y/N’s been running around all day and I’ve only been doing desk work. I’m sure they’re tired.”

Tammy is giving him that suspicious look again. Sebastian ignores it in favour of looking over to you, giving him a happy smile that made the awkward moment worth it. “Thanks, Sebastian. I appreciate it.”

You part ways with Madame Theresa, and Sebastian pointedly keep his eyes away from Gregorio as he leads her out of the building. Opens the passenger side door for her, and then climbs into the driver’s seat; all without a word. Deep down, he knows why he volunteered to drive her home. But now he’s hesitant - wondering if it’s even a good idea. “So, uh, I overheard you reading Y/N’s palm, back there,” Sebastian says, keeping his voice nonchalant.

He chances a brief glance to Madame Theresa, who wears a light smile. “I was. An’ I’m not about to read yours while you’re drivin’. Keep those skinny hands on the wheel, Mr. Agent.”

“No, no, ma’am, that’s not what I wanted,” Sebastian fumbles out, and his hands squeeze the steering wheel tight. “I just...wanted to know what you saw in their palm.” Sebastian pauses, and then forces the last thought out. “About who they’d marry?”

Madame Theresa is quiet, and he can feel her stare against the side of his head while Sebastian drives in silence. He wants to break contact with the road and look at her; to gauge her reaction to his request. But he stays focused on the road, his heart beating faster than normal until she finally responds. “I dunno. Sounds like something that should be kept between me and your little friend,” she says.

“What? You’re not a doctor; you’re not bound to secrecy.”

A slow, thoughtful hum worries Sebastian as he comes up on her home. He puts the car in park, about to give Madame Theresa the same “thank you for your help” talk that Pride gave her earlier before the elder woman beside him reached out. Wiry fingers curling around his hand and pulling it closer - turning until his palm was facing upward, and she lets out another slow hum at what she finds. “What?” Sebastian can’t help but ask.

The fortune teller traces one of the lines of his palm. “Your love line,” she answers, tone light with curiosity. “Mighty similar to your friend’s. Might even go so far to say they’re connected.”

“Connected?” Sebastian echoes. “What does that mean?”

How the hell can they be connected?

Madame Theresa releases his hand, looking up into his confused face before patting his cheek with a smile. “You’ll see,” she answers. Frustratingly vague and worryingly certain.

Sebastian watches as she walks up to her home, and then starts the quiet drive back to the office. And he isn’t thinking about why he’s putting so much merit on some palm reader, surprisingly.

No, Sebastian is wondering what a love line was.

It was muggy in the swamps, as it usually is, but the team is just thankful that it’s a cloudy day. They were safe from the harsh sunlight and the heat it’ll bring, even if the humidity made it hard for Sebastian to breathe. He was already sweating as he strapped his vest on, wincing as the cicadas assaulted his ears with their loud chirps.

His eyes wonder upward to study the house they’ll be raiding in just a few minutes. Though, “house” is a strong word for this standing pile of wood and stone. Sebastian was sure that either one of them could look at it wrong, and it would fall over. Busted windows, chipped white paint. It looked like there was a hole in the roof, but he was too far away to be sure.

Sebastian was so focused on the house, he barely registered when you came up beside him, nudging his arm with yours to get his attention. “Nervous?” You ask him with a smirk.

“No,” he answers instantly. And he pointedly ignores the flutter of butterflies in his belly. Mostly because he can’t distinguish it from pre-raid jitters, or because you’re standing so close.

You let out a doubtful hum, eyes narrowed playfully. “You were staring off into the distance. I figured you were just worried that something would go wrong.”

“What could go wrong?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, and then give him another nudge on the arm. Softer, this time. “But either way, I’ll be with you the entire time.”

In reality, there was no real reason to be worried. This raid wasn’t for an arrest; Chris found this address and theorized that it’d be a good hideaway for their suspect. The only thing the team expected to find was a murder weapon, if they’re lucky. By the look of it, the only danger was the house itself. And yet, Sebastian immediately felt a whole lot better when you said that, and smiled at him after.

The butterflies were still there, though. They never really went away.

Pride led the way up to old ramshackle house; LaSalle and Tammy behind him while sending you and Sebastian around back. He followed your lead once Pride gave the signal to head in. Barging through patio doors where the windows had long-since been knocked out. Sebastian’s nose wrinkled at the smell of mildew, but he stayed focused on clearing the house. Making sure you were always in his line of sight.

“Clear!”

One by one, Sebastian heard the others clear the large house through the mic. Gregorio and Pride made their way upstairs, but it was clear nobody was home. So Sebastian started to relax a little as he moved his eyes over to you.

The only light to see by was what little sunlight streamed in from dirty windows and tattered curtains, but it was enough to see that you were studying little knick knacks on top of the fireplace. Layers on layers of dust and grime, but they still fascinated you.

Only Sebastian was aware of the long, awkward silence in the room. The heavy footsteps overhead wasn’t enough to drown it out. So, steeling himself, Sebastian walks towards you as normally as possible. “What’d you find?” He asks, nodding to the mantle when you glance back.

And you shrug at his question. “Not much. Just...things that were left behind, I guess.”

Sebastian stops when he reaches your side, taking a look for himself. There were a few photographs that have long since become unrecognizable. A few statuettes; the things you’d expect on a mantle of a house. “I think LaSalle said this house was abandoned during Katrina,” Sebastian says, eyes rising and glancing at the walls. “I guess it’s a miracle it’s still standing.”

You hum in agreement. “Yeah,” you reach out and pick up one of the statuettes, not minding the dust, “still a little sad, though.”

His attention returns to you, turning the dusty little figurine around in a solemn silence. And there’s an unexpected jolt in his chest; you cared so much. So deeply. The sight of a dumpy house and dusty knick knacks were enough to make you care about...what? The house? The knick knacks? Whatever it was, it made Sebastian smile.

And he was so lost in his thoughts, he nearly missed a low, creaking sound. A groan that shook him out of his own head, and as Sebastian started looking around, you did the same with a confused frown. “What’s the sound?” You ask, voice low and cautious.

“I don’t know,” he answers in the same tone. Sebastian takes a step back from the fireplace, and there’s another deep groan - louder, this time. More threatening, and it sends a chill up his spine. Because the noise is coming from the floor beneath his own feet.

You take a step, as well, having not come to the conclusion that he has. And Sebastian didn’t have time to warn you before the old wooden floor instantly started cracking and splitting. Before he could even think about turning and running to safety, the ground underneath him was gone, and Sebastian felt the gut-pulling sensation of free-falling. And the fall itself wasn’t that far; it was only into the basement. A single story, at most. But the suddenness of it made him yell out, and he faintly heard your own terrified screech as the two of you dropped into the dark, dank basement.

It was over as soon as it started. Sebastian was on his back, eyes screwed shut, instantly coughing up dust and dirt and God knows what else. Carefully, he rolled onto his side, cautious of any pain or numbness that might come with moving, but he felt nothing. It doesn’t seem like he broke or sprained anything. He might develop some kind of lung infection from breathing in all this nasty stuff, but for now, he was fine.

And that’s when Sebastian’s eyes shot open, meeting blackness and dust particles that he tried to blink through.

Were you alright?

His head whirls to his left, where you’d been standing on the ground level. And his limbs go numb with relief when Sebastian finds you there, moving around and making little noises. Alright, you haven’t broken your neck or anything, but...

You were groaning. Still slumped against the floor. The drop shouldn’t have stunned you that much unless something was wrong. Instantly, he pushes himself closer, stomach tight with the fear that you were seriously hurt. “Hey, Y/N? You okay? Can you hear me?” He can’t help but belt out question after question.

But you nod anyway. Turn your head to face him, even if your eyes are still closed. And that’s when he sees it; the thin stream of blood trickling down your face from your temple. You must’ve hit your head on something.

His breath is suddenly short. Skin clammy, and it’s a good thing Chris started shouting from the upper floor to bring his attention back to reality. When Sebastian looks up, he barely sees the face of his friend glancing down from above. “Y’all alright, down there?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian croaks out, and then shakes his head. “Uh, Y/N’s bleeding. Probably hit their head on something.”

“We called for some help. Just stay put down there!”

That was easy for Sebastian to do. You weren’t going anywhere, and he wasn’t about to leave you.

Slowly, you were able to blink open your eyes. Just barely, though. Sebastian had a hard time finding the brilliant colour of your eyes. “Sebastian?” You mumble out. And your hand rises, as if searching him out.

He easily grips it tight, nodding his head. “I’m here. LaSalle called for help. They should be here soon.”

You physically relax at his words. And Sebastian is well aware that this situation is a serious one; you were hurt badly. But he can’t stop himself from noticing just how good your hand felt slotted against his. Soft, despite the dust and grime. Natural, as if it was supposed to be there.

He forces himself to focus on you, instead. “How much does your head hurt?” Sebastian asks worryingly.

“Pretty bad. Hard to keep my eyes open.”

Those words sent a jolt of alarm up his spine, and Sebastian starts shaking his head, even if you can’t see him. “No, no, no, you have to stay awake. You probably have a concussion.”

Your head lolls, fighting to do as he says, but Sebastian can tell it’s hard. “So talk to me,” you tell him simply.

Alright. He can do that. He’s never had trouble rambling about dumb topics, in the past.

But now, when you’re asking him to help keep you awake, Sebastian is suddenly devoid of any mundane topics. He’s juggling from one thing to the next, knowing they wouldn’t be enough to hold your attention, until he comes to one that has potential. A topic that’s been on the forefront of his mind since last night. Sebastian hesitates on bringing it up, but his mouth seems to have a mind of its own. “Madame Theresa,” he blurts out, “what kind of predictions did she make?”

For a moment, he wonders if this could be seen as straying into your privacy. But you smirk at the question; at least you’re smiling. “Nothing interesting,” you answer. “Stuff about my career and luck. I’ll be seeing a family member, pretty soon.” You stop, as if contemplating your next words. “And then something about already knowing the person I’m supposed to marry.”

Sebastian’s mouth goes dry. His mind goes blank, and he barely hears your next words. “Did she read your palm? I know you don’t really believe in stuff like that...”

“She read it.”

“And? What did she say?”

He’s hesitant to be honest, in your state. Wonders if it’s a good idea to spill everything that Madame Theresa told him. But your eyes are starting to flutter again, and Sebastian can’t have you nodding off. “She said that my love line was similar to yours.”

That woke you up. When your eyes open up wider than they have since falling down here, Sebastian can’t help but flicker his eyes away. “I’m- I’m sure that just means that I know my future spouse, as well. Which isn’t very surprising, given how many people we come into contact with on the job. Surely, by now, I must’ve met the person I’ll marry, someday...”

He’s rambling again. And you’re focus on him starts to dwindle because of it. He chances to shake you awake, wincing when your eyes shoot open again. “Sorry,” Sebastian says.

“No, it’s okay.” You turn your head to face him, blinking your eyes open against the pull of sleep. Keeping your gaze squarely on him, smirking just a bit. “You’re a good man. If I had to fall through the floor with someone, I’m glad it was with you.”

Your hand tightens around his, as if making sure Sebastian was there and he wasn’t leaving. He squeezes back immediately, mouth opening to ask you some more questions about the dumb palm readings. But there’s a noise from outside the house; it’s faint and barely there, from his position in the basement. But it’s the unmistakable sound of an ambulance siren.

He puffs out a breath of relief, because your eyes were starting to droop again.

Time, unfortunately, seemed to stretch on as soon as Sebastian sat in the empty chair beside your bed. Being rescued by the paramedics, being driven to the hospital, getting checked out by nurses; it all flew past in a whirl. But now that Sebastian was sitting here in silence, each minute felt like five.

The doctor said your concussion wasn’t dangerously bad. That you wouldn’t be asleep for too much longer. Right now, he had a hard time believing him.

Sebastian, for once in his life, let his mind slow down. He was tired; having not gotten too much sleep last night because of what Madame Theresa said, and the ordeal in the house. The sound of your heart monitor was strangely lulling.

Maybe, if the silence stretched on for a little longer, he would’ve fallen asleep. But Sebastian hears you shift under the hospital sheets, and just as he’s blinking his eyes open, that’s when he hears your voice - low and groggy. “Sebastian?”

He sits straight up in his chair, not even attempting to hide the excitement and relief and maybe just a little bit of worry written plainly on his face. The doctor did say you’d be fine, but Sebastian was a scientist. He wasn’t happy unless he can see for himself. “Hey, you’re okay,” he replies lightly, moving to the very edge of the chair. “You’ve been asleep for a few hours. Everyone came by and asked about you before they left.”

“And you stayed?”

Sebastian hoped you’d be too out-of-it to catch that, so he gives a shy half-shrug. “Yeah, I mean, I didn’t want you to wake up all by yourself. If I had a concussion and woke up alone in the hospital, I’d be a little freaked out.” Was there any way to say that and still sound tough? Probably not.

Either way, you’re smiling at him, so it can’t be that bad.

And it was good to see you smile. Despite the bandage on your head and how groggy you look, the smile was just as bright and beautiful as it always has been. Still had the same power to make his heart speed up.

Sebastian didn’t even notice the moment start to drag until the door of your room opened slowly, as if trying not to make too much noise. His head whirls around, expecting a nurse or a doctor who was here to check on you. Instead, Pride is walking through the door, seeing that you’re awake and looking very pleased.

What surprised Sebastian the most is following his boss was Madame Theresa herself. He couldn’t help the blink of surprise. How his spine straightened at the sight of her reflecting Pride’s delighted expression. Sebastian looks back, and you look equally as surprised, if not just a little happy to see the old fortune teller.

And before Sebastian can ask any one of his questions, Madame Theresa takes a step closer to the bed, her smile never wavering. “Agent Pride here told me what happened an’ I wanted to stop by. Check on you myself,” she explains cheerfully.

Your smile widens a bit, and all Sebastian can do was look back and forth between you two. “I’m fine, thank you. Just a bump on the head. I’ll be going home later.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Madame Theresa purrs out, and her hands come to fold together in front of her. “I don’t want’chu two makin’ a liar outta me.”

“A liar?” You echo.

“Mhmm. I told this tall one just last night,” her hand motions to Sebastian sitting silently in the chair, “that your love lines are connected. And I’ve never been wrong before.”

Yeah, Sebastian thought, but you never explained what it meant. You left me to figure it out by myself.

With a light hum, Madame Theresa turns and walks herself out of the room, Pride following her with a confused look on his face. The door shuts behind him, and the room is silent once again. Not the comfortable silence of before; it’s a little more awkward, this time. The two of you waiting for the other to pluck up the courage to speak first, now that the fortune teller left a huge elephant in the room.

“I kinda had a feeling.”

Sebastian’s gaze whips up when you speak, and you smile at the puzzled furrow of his eyebrows. “Huh?”

“That she was talking about you, last night. While reading my palm,” you clarify before averting your eyes down. Were you embarrassed?

His mouth is dry, but he forces himself to speak. “Really? Why?”

You just shrug at his question. “She said I’d marry a good man. One that I already knew. And you were just...the first one who came to mind. And when you told me that our love lines were connected, back at the house, I just kinda put it together,” you explain. And Sebastian could see you were hesitant; as if afraid you’ve read this whole thing wrong.

His face grows warm, but this is no time to be awkward. Sebastian reaches his hand out, carefully curling it around the hand you’ve had sitting on the bed. And immediately, your palm turns to press against his, holding it like you held it in the basement of the house.

But this setting was much more to Sebastian’s liking - peaceful. Quiet. With clean air.

Your head rests back against the pillow, and he can tell you’re pretty close to falling asleep again. And Sebastian elects to let you, as he’s a little too focused on the pair of conjoined hands sitting on stark white sheets.

The grip is loose and open, and Sebastian can’t help but to start analyzing each and every line etched across your palm.

#ncis new orleans x reader #ncis new orleans reader insert #sebastian lund x reader #sebastian lund imagine #ncis nola x reader

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cosmichoneyedblossoms · 5 years

Text

Deep Violet

Pairing: PRINCE Shownu X Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: I got an ask for a shy but dom Shownu, and it somehow turned into a Prince au 😂

For as long as you could remember your family worked for the Son royal family, your father worked as a chef and your mother worked as a maid so, it was inevitable that you would take a job at the castle when you became of age. Even as a child, you came to the castle with them while they worked and you met the royal family’s son, Prince Shownu. He reminded you a yam, cute chubby cheeks that took up his whole face, his little pouty lips that made him look like he was questioning everything when it came to meeting you, and that’s how you came up with his nickname, “Sweet Potato.”

He hated you and that nickname for the longest of time, but the more time that the two of you spent together, the more you grew inseparable as you aged, your playdates in the garden slowly turned into studying in the library, the tea parties you shared turned into quiet meals in the main hall. You witnessed Shownu grow with grace and refinement within the castle walls and when it came time for him to find suitors, it occurred to you that you were nothing more than just a maid to him. You tried to turn your notice into the King, but he wouldn’t allow it, because his son wouldn’t allow it.

“What do you mean Shownu won’t allow it?” You tried to be mindful of your attitude and tone, but it started to seep out of you.

“We told him over dinner last night that you wanted put in your notice and he denied it. Thoroughly turned it down.”

“Without any reason?” The King scoffed at your words.

“He’s a prince, he doesn’t have to have a reason for wanting to keep a maid. You’re attuned to him and he probably would hate to teach someone how he is. Now, this conversation is over, if you have anymore questions, go ask him yourself.” You nodded, knowing that if you protested more you may get yourself in trouble. You left his chamber, your heels hitting the floor with a fury as you stormed to Shownu’s office. The dark mahogany door came into your vision and before you knew it, your knuckles were rapping against the door.

“Come in.” His muffled voice gave you the invitation and you pushed open the door and stepped into his office, closing the door behind you. Your boiled sweet potato didn’t look like the boy you met long ago, his thick brown hair rested against his forehead, his chubby cheeks had thinned out to show off his sharp features—his looks were just one part of what made you fall for him, but you knew him before he grew into his features. Shownu looked up at you, a smile tugging at this lips, “Y/N, what do I owe the pleasure—”

“You denied my notice?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Yes. I want out, I’m not going to stand around and watch you go on dates with multiple noblewomen to find you a wife to take the throne with you.” His eyes grew wide hearing your voice crack through your words.

“How did you…?”

“I saw the invitations to tonight’s party. The princes from other countries are coming to celebrate your coming of age. The RSVP roster is almost full of princesses and noblewomen so, you’ll have a lot to choose from.” Shownu’s teeth took the plumpness of his bottom lip between them, gnawing on it. He didn’t think that it would be this hard to separate his feelings for you, a maid, to find his future wife, but it was. You were not only his maid, but his best friend, and he didn’t ever think it would’ve come down to letting you leave to avoid hurting you or keeping you for his selfish reason.

“Y/N…” He stood from his desk, a knock coming from the other side of the door, a deep sigh left him, “Come in.” The door opened and a butler came into the office.

“Prince Shownu, it’s about time for you to get ready for tonight’s party.”

“Let me finish up with her—”

“It’s okay. We’re done talking.”

“Wait, Y/N.” You had already turned on your heels and walked past the butler out into the hall, your feet rushing down the marble tile to create distance from Shownu. Frustrated tears rolled off your lashes and down your cheeks, your rubbed them as you turned the corner, you body coming in contact with another. You stopped rubbing your eyes and looked up to see dripping good looks melting off of the man in front of you.

“I’m so sorry, Prince Kihyun.” You bowed deeply, a shy chortle coming from him.

“It’s lovely to see you, Y/N. Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Kihyun’s sweet champagne eyes stared into yours and you slowly blinked, breaking the eye contact you shared.

“How long you got, because it’s a long story.” Kihyun escorted you out to the garden while you explained what had you so upset. He didn’t speak while you spoke from point A all the way to Z, going through your feelings for him, how you tried to quit, and what had just happened. Kihyun understood your position, anyone growing up together would get some sort of feelings for someone, but your predicament was a special one.

“Has it occurred to you that Shownu might feel the same way?” You scoffed a bit as you sat down on the stone bench in front of the flower garden, “I’m being serious here.”

“I know you are, but why me? I’m just a maid—”

“You were his best friend before his maid, Y/N.” Kihyun crossed his arms and started to pace in front of you, “Maybe he’s telling you to stay without saying it, you know him, he doesn’t always come out with what he wants to say, he’s too shy for that.” Kihyun was right, Shownu did have a way of beating around the bush to get what he wanted, but this wasn’t something that he could beat around the bush with. The sudden gasp of Kihyun’s voice startled you and you growled.

“What the hell, Ki?!”

“You’re not working the party tonight, right?”

“No… they hired help other than our staff.” A mischievous smirk appeared on his lips as he turned his gaze onto you.

“I have an idea.”

“Is this really gonna work?” You asked feeling long nimble fingers pull up the zipper on the back of the dress. Your eyes were covered with a blindfold to keep your appearance a surprise to yourself, you didn’t know what your hair looked like or even the dress they were sticking you in, but you trusted them. You had to, they were your last hope.

“If Shownu doesn’t take you, I will.” The sound of Minhyuk’s voice flowed from behind the room divider.

“Minhyuk is right, you look absolutely stunning.” Prince Jooheon’s hands smoothed over your curves, making sure you looked flawless, “Here, let me guide you to the mirror.” Jooheon took your hand into his and led you out from behind the divider, the sound of five gasps filling the air around you.

“I’m hoping those are good noises…” You breathed, your nerves starting to claw at your confidence.

“Hold on! Have her put these on.” Wonho’s voice got closer to you and you felt the hem of your dress being pulled up, “Lift one foot for me, Y/N.” You did as Wonho asked and lifted a foot, his hands sliding a shoe onto it. You let him put the other one on and heard him hum in approval, “Now, you’re ready.”

“Can I take this blindfold off?” As you asked, Jooheon removed the blindfold and it took your eyes a minute to adjust to the lighting in the room, but when it did, your eyes found you in the mirror, your heart skipping a beat at your appearance. Your makeup was lightly done with peach and gold tones for your eyeshadow with a light colored lip, and your hair was styled into a waterfall braid, the ends of your hair curled and tousled to perfection. Your eyes finally fell to the ballgown hugging your body—the sweetheart neckline and bodice were fashioned with gorgeous light blue lace, melting down into floor length peach colored tulle, “Wow…” You walked closer to the mirror, taking in your dolled up figure.

“You’re going to make him swoon.” Hyungwon appeared beside you, pulling your hair over your shoulder, “If not, one of us six calls dibs on you.” His thick lips formed a toothy smile, making you laugh.

“Thank you guys.”

“Don’t thank us just yet…” Changkyun stood from the couch he was sitting on and walked towards you, “When you meet Shownu, you can thank us.” He offered his arm out to you and you slipped your hand around it, “Shall we get this party started?” He asked and you nodded, the rest of the boys chuckling and laughing around you.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my honor to introduce the Princes that have graced our country with their arrival for Prince Shownu’s coming of age ceremony. First is the Prince of Ticia, Shin Hoseok.” At the sound of his name, Wonho walked out with his escort.

“Hold on… you mean to tell me Shownu is going to see me walking in with you?” You looked up at Changkyun, his nod making your heart race.

“The Prince of Haoatrem, Lee Minhyuk.” Minhyuk walked out into the ballroom, the anxiety in your stomach created a ruckus in your chest, “The Prince of Legilind, Yoo Kihyun.”

“I don’t know if I can do this…” You whispered.

“The Prince of Etalish, Chae Hyungwon.”

“You’re going to have to, Y/N.” Changkyun glanced down at you.

“The Prince of Aseadia, Lee Jooheon.” Jooheon walked into the ballroom and your heart fell into your stomach, “The Prince of Trarelath, Im Changkyun.”

“Show time.” He tugged you along, the bright light of the ballroom illuminating the room around you. Your eyes searched the busy ballroom for them to easily find Shownu standing at the stop of the stairs, overlooking the party. He looked so handsome standing there in his formal wear, it was a rare for him to wear it unless he was attending council meetings or parties like these, but your heart fluttered at the sight. Changkyun walked you over to the staircase where the boy’s escorts stood and slipped his arm from your grasp to hold your hand, “Thank you m’lady.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” Changkyun lifted your hand up to his lips, placing a tender kiss to your skin before walking up the stairs to take his place by the other princes. The voice that introduced the boys started talking once more, but all the focus in the room was primarily on you—most of the people in the room as attended these parties for years and had never seen you before. The longer stares and gazes rested upon you, the more your anxiety racked your nerves. The announcer finished his speech and the princes came down the stairs, almost all the young noble ladies in the room rushed to meet them, pushing you out of the way. You turned away from them and walked over to the drink table, pulling a glass of champagne from it and downing it.

Why did you let them do this to you? Doll you up and parade you in here like you’re some sort of princess? You’re not, your just a common maid… might as well enjoy the food and alcohol here seeing as Shownu will be kept—

The feeling of a hand resting on your shoulder ceased your incessant thoughts and you turned around to be met with warm topaz irises, “Y/N?”

“Shownu…”

“I thought it was you. I just had to make sure… What’re you doing here…?” He eyed your dolled up appearance, a fire attacking his cheeks. Seeing you all dressed up flustered him, you looked like you belonged here in his world, like you weren’t a maid, but an actual noblewoman or princess.

“It was Prince Kihyun’s idea.” Shownu glanced back at the row of princes to see them watching us, Minhyuk noticed his stare and waved which made you giggle a bit.

“Well…” He turned his gaze back onto you, trying to overcome his nervousness, “Could I bother you for a dance… Princess Y/N?” He offered his hand out to you and you slipped your hand into his.

“Anything for you, Prince Shownu.” Your words brought a bright smile to his lips and he led you to the center of the ballroom floor where other couples had already started dancing. Shownu wrapped an arm around you, his hand coming to rest on your waist, you rested your hand on his shoulder and took his other hand into yours, his body already pulling you along into the dance. You couldn’t help but smile when a memory appeared in your psyche of you and Shownu as children and he was teaching you how to dance “the fancy” way. His face was all scrunched up as he tried to keep in time with the music and remember all the steps, but this time, his face was relaxed and the steps were like second nature to him, “Your form is impeccable.” You teased and he looked down at you, a slight blush still staining his cheeks.

“It’s isn’t your form that’s important when you’re dancing, it’s your feelings.” His touch was gentle against your body, he was mindful of your steps, making sure to help you keep time with him. There was a time before this where Shownu thought that dancing was a science, you have to take steps at the right time and execute them perfectly, he thought of it as a game when he was younger, but now he’s dancing with more feeling and fluidity— you didn’t know if this was the same boy you fell in love with. Shownu noticed the corners of your mouth turn upwards as your eyes admired him, “What’re you smiling for?”

“Well…” You giggled a bit, tightening your grip on his hand, “You’ve grown so much, but somehow you’re still my Sweet Potato.”

“You know I hate that name, right?” He may have hated it, but he loved that you finally called him that after so long. After hearing you call him “Prince Shownu” for years, hearing his nickname eased his nerves, bringing a smile to his lips.

“I know, but that’s who you are to me. My handsome Sweet Potato.” Your full attention was on his lips, he tried to hide his excitement behind a crooked, but charming smile, “You’re so handsome, any woman you choose to marry will be a lucky one.” The music faded to a stop and so did your bodies, Shownu slowly pulled away, his eyes searching yours to find tears starting to fill them.

“Stay in the castle tonight. I want to talk to you, just you, in private.”

“Shown—”

“Excuse me…” A woman’s voice interrupted you and you turned around to see a woman with fine blond hair and piercing blue eyes. She was gorgeous, definitely someone that you could see him with, “Care to dance with me next, Prince Shownu?” She asked and a forced smile came to his lips.

“Of course, it would be my pleasure, m’lady.” You moved out of the way for him to take her hand, he stared at you once more, his eyes begging you to stay and you knew you couldn’t deny him.

You sat in the chair that sat on the balcony outside your room, Shownu had the bedroom made up for you after you took on the role of his personal maid, just in case he accidentally kept you later than usual and didn’t want you going home by yourself. He’s always been kind and gentle, he gave you a spot in his life that you ever thought that he would give you, but he did, and now it’s coming to an end. After tonight, you knew you couldn’t stay with him any longer, your feelings for him wouldn’t have it.

“Y/N.” A deep voice, thicker than honey, called out to you and you looked towards the balcony door to see Shownu standing in his sleepwear.

“Has everyone gone home for the night?” You asked, standing from the chair.

“Kihyun and Wonho have decided to stay here at the castle since they live in the furthest kingdoms.” He took short strides to you as if not to spook you, like if he came at you too quickly, you would run.

“That was nice of you to let them stay. Do they need anything?” You started to walk towards the door, “I should go check—” Shownu gently grabbed your hand, stopping you.

“They’re okay, they’ve got their butlers looking after them.”

“Oh… that’s right. I forgot about them.” You tried to laugh off your reason to escape, worried that your tears may make an appearance again. You turned to face him, his heart pounding in his chest as your eyes connected.

“Y/N…” His voice was soft like the midnight breeze, his dark irises almost matched the obsidian sky, but held a light lighter than air.

“Yes?”

“I wanted to say something to you at the party, but didn’t have the time to and I didn’t know how to tell you.” His fingers slipped in between yours, lacing your hands together, “I love you and not in the way I usually say it. Not because you help me with work or anything like that, but I’m madly in love with you. From day one when your parents brought you here, I thought you were just the cutest thing. I even remember what you were wearing and how your hair was put up, you were just adorable.” His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand as he looked away from your gaze, he had never expressed his feelings so openly before and the fact that you’re staring at him so intensely had him feeling embarrassed, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to marry anyone, but you and even if you turn me down, I’ll take the throne without a princess or queen by my side, because no one can fill your place.”

“Shownu… are you asking me to marry you?” You peered up into his face, his cheeks the color of ripe cherries.

“I eventually will… but I want to be with you. I know it’s not your scene—”

“You’re right about that. There’s eyes everywhere and they’ll be glued to us and we’ll be under a microscope all the time—” A warmth spread through your forehead as he gently pressed his forehead against yours.

“Then keep your eyes on me. Only look at me until you can’t think of anything else.” Your heart beat loudly at his proximity; his lips were hovering over yours and every cell in your body wanted him, ached to feel his lips on yours, yearned to know what it would feel like when his skin meshed with yours. You’ve wanted him for so long and now you had your chance, he left himself wide open for you to take the leap. You pressed your lips to his, needing to feel him, the feeling of his lips on yours ignited a heat inside you that only grew hotter the longer your lips were connected. Shownu pulled away for a just second to catch his breath, you took the air from his lungs and he loved it, “Stay with me… please…”

“Can I really stay with you…?” You asked, your heart awaiting to hear a negative answer, but when you felt the slight nod of his head, you backed away and looked up at him, “Really?!”

“I’ve already spoke to His Majesty and he noted that it’ll be hard, but you’re already part of our family.” A toothy smile came to your lips while you jumped into his arms, squealing in pure happiness. Shownu could’ve sworn he’s never seen your lips turn into a smile so quickly before, but the fact that he made you smile so widely warmed his heart. His hands cradled your body and your hands gently caressed his cheeks, your thumbs lightly running over his skin, you leaned in letting your lips meet once more, this time with no intention of separating from him. Shy zealous kisses were passed between your lips, them growing more shameless and passionate as an unbearable heat rose up in both of you. Shownu’s hands gripped the flesh of your thighs while he slightly ground his hips into yours, your mind taking notice of how stiff he had gotten in just the few moments your lips had been melded to each other.

“Shownu…” You hummed and he pulled away slightly, his lips aching to be back on yours.

“I’ll stop if you want me to stop, but I’m not sure I can…” He confessed, holding onto you body tighter, eager to feel you on him.

“Then don’t.” His eyes grew wide at your words, something changed in them from the moment you tempted him, they grew darker and heavier. He made his way back into your room, kicking the door closed behind him, and then laying you down into the bed. His hands lifted the hem of your shirt, exposing your skin, while his lips began his attack on you. They sprinkled light burning kisses to your torso, his hands lifting your shirt as he went to expose more of your beautiful skin to him. The more he inched up your body, the more it ached for him to tease you and as if he read your mind, his long fingers gently ran over your hardening buds, arousing a quiet gasp from your lips.

This was the first time he heard your voice this sultry and light, your body being openly ready for him made his hunger flourish—he wanted to hear more of you and he was determined to make it happen. You blinked and Shownu had pulled your shorts and panties from your body, he slipped his arms under your legs, creating a strong hold on your lower half; his warm breath against your most sensitive parts sent tingles through your limbs, your body more than ready to feel him against you. Shownu pressed soft kisses to the flesh of your heat before letting his warm wet muscle invade your essence to explore your sticky folds, making sure to not miss any crevice of your core; your quiet moans gradually getting louder let him know he was driving crazy with his tongue. The coil in your stomach threatened to let loose every time he ran his roughness over your aching nub, your breathless gasps giving away how close you were to your high. Shownu wrapped his lips around your nub, lightly sucking on it, your back coming to arch off the bed as he edged you closer to bliss; the swirling of his tongue finally pushed you over the edge, the tightly wound coil in your stomach sprung free, sending electricity through your being. He guided you through your high, bringing you back down to him, he pulled away from your heat and trailed kisses up to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N…” You kissed him once more before pulling his shirt off, revealing his toned body. Your eyes wandered down his torso, following his happy trail that led down to the waistband of his pants. You lightly palmed his through his pants, his head coming to rest on your shoulder, “Y/N…”

“I want you, Shownu.” There was no wavering in your voice as you tugged at the fabric of his pants.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I want to be one with you.” With that, he pulled off his pants and anchored himself between your legs, his nerves started to get the best of him as he ran his member down your wet folds. He slowly pushed his length past your entrance, every inch of him filling you so well. Shownu let out a shaky breath as he melted into you, lost himself in the warmth of your core; you pulled him down to press your lips to his, wanting to feel more of him. He rolled his hips into you, the sound of your skin meshing and mingling breaths filled the air around you. He snapped his hips into you, your hands grabbing at his back, your nails digging into his skin marking up his back. Your wanton cries of bliss from him only aroused him more, they brought him closer to his release; he left love bites down your neck, the fire in your stomach began to seep out into your limbs, flames licking at your fingers and toes.

“Y/N… I can’t…” He rasped, his pace getting rough and erratic.

“Cum with me…” You mewled, his hands coming to grip your waist as he rammed length into you, reaching his release while you clamped down around him, you reaching your own high. You admired him while his eyes were closed, thick dark lashes dusting the tops of his cheeks while he let out breathless groans of pleasure, he was so handsome and now he was yours. Shownu laid down beside you, pulling you close and pressing sweet tender kisses to your crown.

“Princess Y/N… that has a nice ring to it.” He gently ran his hand over your back, chuckling a bit.

“You think?” You looked up at him and he nodded.

“I’ve been wanting to call you Princess for forever and now, I finally get to.” His words brought a blazing blush to your cheeks, he knew just what to say to make you melt. You loved him and you were ready for the adventure ahead and anything that came your way—becoming his Princess was a dream come true.

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legion1993 · 5 years

Text

thunder like a gun shot

title: Thunder like a gun shot

kink square filled: lingerie

fluff square filled: free space (thunderstorm)

prompt: Chrysalism-the amnotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words were unintelligable but whose crackling release a built up tension you understand perfectly.

A/n: hope this fits with everything if it doesnt just let me know and ill make the changes if necessary. but if it is close please also let me know. it was hard to come up with something when i was struggling with a really bad case of writers block. i kinda just did word vomit in here. please give me feedback. if possible. thanks.

ship: Dean x reader

rating: 14+

tags: firearms, lingerie, sexy clothing, thunderstorm, cuddling in the hallway, reader wearing barely nothing.

summery (if applicable): its a surprise….

word count (if applicable):

created for @spnkinkbingo and for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing for her Spn beautiful words challenge (ps. i hope this works...) & @spnfluffbingo

spn kink bingo masterlist spn fluff bingo masterlist

staying at bobby’s while Bobby, Dean and Sam were out hunting. thats fine bobby said you could organize and put away the books and things.

while doing so it was very warm inside. rumsfeld had always stayed near by, for he could tell you missed Dean. Dean and you had been together for several years. this was how you spent time when you thought it best you stayed back.

after all spending every day hunting was not without perks, for instance getting to chop heads, shoot things, etc. but sometimes you wanted to let Dean have fun with the guys.

amidst putting away the books and boxes you found one of the cursed boxes was open. you picked it up and placed it on the desk. immediately you dialed bobby.

Bobby: “Y/N..”

Y/N: “bobby did you or the guys go into a cursed box?”

Bobby yells at the boys who swear up and down that neither of them did. so he comes back to you.

Bobby: “none of us did, why do ya ask kiddo?”

Y/N: “cause there was one open unsealed on the ground.”

Bobby: “whats the box number?”

Y/N: “5386.”

you could hear bobby on the other end yell Son of a Bitch...

Bobby: “Y/N kiddo listen to me, a while back John and i had trapped something real bad in that very box, it is a demon, but this one is powerful, like it comes with its own meatsuit. you need to get it down long enough for you to exorcise it back into the pit or use that cursed box.”

Y/N: “can it be harmed by bullets?”

Bobby: “it can but you would have to unload half a clip into it in order for it to stay down for a longer period of time than that of 1 minute."

there was nothing you hadnt considered. but the thought of hunting in lingerie had you hot and bothered.

you pulled out your hand gun and cocked it but not before checking to make sure you had a full cartridge of bullets.

Y/N: “don’t you guys worry ill take care of whatever the hell this is.”

you hung up the call and threw on your overlay grabbing your gun and flashlight you started searching the house. slowly around every corner you went. but outside you heard a noise, one which brought out your most painful memories.

you knew you only had a short amount of time before you had a melt down.

elsewhere, Dean, Bobby and sam were just arriving back at the motel after completing the hunt. that of course is when Dean noticed it, the dark clouds, the looming sounds of thunder.

Dean: “shit guys we gotta head back towards Y/N she will have a breakdown if im not there during the storm.”

Sam: “goo on ahead Dean, ill ride with bobby and catch up as soon as we can.”

Bobby: “go be with your girl.”

Dean stayed in the impala while Sam went in the motel room to grab Dean’s bag bringing it out to his brother he smiled backing up as Dean reversed and sped off down the road.

meanwhile you were not aware that you were the one being stalked not you stalking the demon. it was a few moments before you heard a hiss coming from right behind you, it made you stop, you cocked your gun & dropped your flashlight. but just as the first loud house shaking thunder clap sounded you shot off 2 rounds into his arms.

that was what set him off on the war path, you ducked out of the way you had run away from him but trying to go up the stairs you felt estranged. almost like something else was also in the house.

however it was your wit and courage that made you stop in your slow ascend of the staircase, you stuck your gun thru the railing and shot off 2 more rounds into its spine.

it was then that bright bright headlights shone through the not covered windows. it was the impala, you knew those headlights anywhere but if there was ever a moment whre you were not sure of yourself and your hunting abilities it was right then.

you could then hear the door jiggling but that soon all just faded noise as you honed into your senses. they were all in overload, your hearing could only pick up the sound of what you thought to be the ever growing thunder claps that were sounding from outside.

but instead you were firing off every single bullet in both clips you had on you. that demon was down. thats when you got into a real rage, it was something that you never thought you would ever feel again.

this is something you had only experienced once before, your parents had been murdered right in front of your eyes it was a thunderstorm but you happened to be in the room at the time.

it hadnt been long before Sam and Dean had busted through your door but by that point they witnessed you killing the demon with your mind. it was not 3 minutes after that you knelt on the floor and had this blank expression on your face.

thats how your journey with the winchesters had started. but tonight was the second time you were experiencing something like this. Dean came into the view, you were now kneeling on the ground, in only your sexy lingerie with a blank expression on your face & your silence turning into soft sobs.

thunder kept roaring but the demon wasnt gone yet. your eyes went white again the cursed box was near the demon as your voice spoke the incantation to lock that asshole demon back up.

Y/N: “i invoke the cursed box, this demon shall ever more be inside. ne’er to escape nor see the light of day. christo, jesu, domni dieos audinos.”

with that your eyes went back to normal, the demon was locked back up. Dean now felt it safe to approach you. it was gonna be a rough next few hours. Dean pulling you into his grasp now held you close.

Dean: “shh its alright... shh...”

your sobs now turning into full blown streaming tears, the thunder kept cracking and all you could do was cry.

Dean didnt bother to move you from the hallway, instead he got comfy on the floor. in the middle of the hallway laying you on his chest, covering your shivering form in his embrace cause to be honest wearing that lingerie he wanted to do more than keep you warm and safe.

Dean kissed your hair and smiled.

Dean: “you look beautiful babe, relax im here.”

you guys stayed like that for quite a while till you felt strong enough to move.

~for as it turned out everytime you shot that gun at that demon, you did it to the thunder claps. after all thunderstorms have a really weird effect on people.~

#spnkinkbingo #spn beautiful words challenge #spnfluffbingo #thunderstorm #lingerie #supernatural #dean x reader

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the-house-of-the-nine · 5 years

Text

In Depths Below: Lament Part 1

((If you follow our work you should know by now, the [ ] lists our mun/muse writers with their original work. Enjoy the continuation of our story please!!))

“Kel’kiros.”

The lead man slowly slipped his pistol into his holster.

“We need ten minutes, then we are air bound.”

“Yah’ll ‘ave yah ten. Yah be sure tah tell yah boss when ah’m done wit’ these fuckers. . . Ah’m comin’ for ‘im and the Kash’ebahl.”

And with that, Kel’kiros Kael’esett slowly ascended the staircase on his way to the bedroom where he would wait for The Nine to arrive. With polearm in hand and his massive armor shaking the floor as he quaked, it would be an ambush they would never expect...

Moments Later in the Halls of the Bastille. . .

[ L.K ] Kross was calmly moving through the hall of the Bastille doing as he had done every day in the past, and every day from this day, in his future. The upkeep and maintenance of the hallowed ground was paramount to his existence. Kross was after all head of the house and kitchen. Let’s face it, as steward, his duty was to fully look after everyone here and the whole ground itself. Never a book out of place. Never a weapon left abandoned.

Being dead had its perks for Scourge and Forsaken alike, but being cursed; well that was different all together. The old spirit would remain trapped in the endless loop of undeath roaming these halls tirelessly for eternity. Or until the phylactery he kept somewhere in the Bastille was destroyed.

Time dilation happens in a way that allows those who are wise enough to detect its movements, a chance to expect arrivals through that grand entrance door. Such a talent was limited to; but not lost to the others, primarily Lazarius and Kross, who spent most of their time here. But no doubt as Confessor, Verzatea Duskflame would likely detect these influxes and the comings and goings of the entire order with her web of intelligence. But Kross was vigilant none the less.

On this particular evening it was known to the old gilnean where his charge was at all times. He was proud that Lazarius was spending a great deal of his time in Stormwind, it meant he was searching for new blood. It meant he was keeping true to his duties as the High Inquisitor. But he also knew that the gentleman needed leisurely experiences, and that was what he had assumed tonight was.

He had mentioned meeting with Zalra to Kross, a “personal” day. So it would come as some shock when the keen old steward detected the door activating and her talisman being used. So much so that he had paused to observe the door, ceasing his cleaning all together.

Zalra would more or less come through the door in haste, it was shut behind her limiting what the old steward could see. But clearly from the look on her face something was abruptly ending her evening.

“Zalra Azurestar .... your arrival is most unexpected, I had thought you were deeply entrenched behind Stormwind lines”. Kross was shocked, just a bit as his tone portrayed. It took a lot to push the old man past concerned and into worried.

[ Z.A ] “No matter what Zalra... thank you... thank you.”

If it hadn’t been for those parting words, Zalra would have emerged into the halls with a look of determination upon her face. There would have been a proud posture about her as she would find those she needed to get the Inquisitor back. However, she didn’t. His thanks caused her to wince; it caused her to turn around and look back, only to be disappointed with the sight of the Bastille’s hall closet interior instead. What else was she truly expecting?

Turning around she unsurprising saw Kross, and immediately registered questioning her untimely and unexpected visit. Seeing the steward send a very brief moment of relief over her as she stepped forth. With a steady sigh, she regained the little composure she unseeing let slip from her.

“Kross,” she breathed in the cold air of the Bastille, finally.

Elsewhere in the halls...

[ V.D ] There had been a sluggishness to Verzatea's existence that was not so easily mended by Brinys's over all presence. There was great joy in her heart which made each day tolerable in it's suffer, just seeing her daughter grow and experience all of her firsts, but there was another piece of living that she had neglected in her desire to submerge herself in motherhood. Duty. Duty is what had brought the maiden from her room, absent of her daughter who had been given to a well trusted student.

What gave Tea peace of mind in allowing her daughter to be in the company of someone else who wasn't of the high council was the fact that she could easily see where within the Bastille they were, often checking up on the girl and her daughter with a mere flick of the wand. Thus, knowing her child was safe and she herself was free to do work as needed.

Verzatea would arrive in the great hall, lingering in a doorway and leering from the darkness whilst adjusting and fluffing the frilly fabric attached to the waist of her peplum dress. The dark red fabric did well to contrast against her paling skin, vibrant green eyes watching on curiously, brought here by the oddly familiar though hard to place presence which had bustled through the doors so quickly. It hadn't set off her alarms, which therein told Tea that who ever had come was of the Nine.

For the moment in which she spent staring aimlessly at the on goings within the hall she also spent it at length trying to determine if there was more that she had been left out of. If there were more people who were entrusted to go beyond the Bastille halls, if there was more at play than she was aware of. Such was a humbling, if not deeply humiliating, thought. How long had she been reclusive from the inner workings?

[ R / L ] Raith had exited the grand library for a brief moment, just to get a snack. He couldn't continue his goals on an empty stomach. He made sure to avoid Brinys whenever he could - he didn't want to see that rapidly-growing monster. Once he'd gotten a little something to eat, in the form of a cup of hot tea and a small plate of scones, he paused upon seeing Zalra on his way back to the library.

Sharp eyes focused on them - he'd been in his studies so deeply he hadn't had a chance to meet them. Not bothering to hide, he simply stood in a hallway, staring down Zalra and examining her. This one better not have been more competition for his rightful place.

[ L.K ] “You look at your superiors with contempt, not respect. Learn early little prince, without loyal subjects you will be missing your head in no time flat.”. Marseille, the first shade to Lazarius slowly took a place beside Raith on the upper level peering down at the incident below.

[ R / L ] “I’ve been adopted for a reason. If it’s not to rule, then I can’t imagine what it was for. I’ll be less aggressive when my rightful place is no longer at risk.” Hissed Raith softly to the shade. “Who are you to question me anyway?”

[ L.K ] “Your rightful place is to serve this order as all who come before you. Not step onto a throne you are assuming is entitled to you.”. The Shal’dorei hissed right back.

“Your ‘father’ would disown you if he heard you, this is a council and a home of freedom for these people, people who put their lives everyday on the line to protect that freedom.” The whitish pink eyes of the shade watched closely below and turning only for a second to address the ‘prince’.

“Forget my words and on your coronation day I will personally end your reign as the shortest in documented history.”

[ R / L ] Raith couldn't believe his ears - or rather, he didn't want to believe them. "They saw potential in me," he growled.

"They knew I could be better than what I was. If they're not going to use me properly...ignore my developing talents...then perhaps, I should leave." the boy gave the shade a rather serious look.

A look of utter disdain and hatred, a look that reflected what he always felt for the world. Nothing is ever fair! he thought, and indeed, the world hadn't been particularly kind to him. Not even getting adopted seemed to change his view of the world, it had given him no hope.

He been found in the Ghostlands, and later in Silvermoon, at such a young age because the world simply wasn't fair. He was thriving back then only because he had given up on hope of the world suddenly becoming fair to him.

With that, he moved to head to his bedroom. If he wasn't stopped, he'd commence his newfound plans to run away.

[ Z.A ] “The Inquisitor has been apprehended by bounty hunters.” She cut to the chase, knowing there was no time to unleash any filler of the situation.

“Kun-Lai Summit. Someone by the name of Magister Dawnseeker tracked him there. He mentioned something about “paying up”. We need to get him now, they might still be there!”

Now that the main concern had been unleashed upon any ears that were intentionally listening, she began to go into detail about the new devices that were used to capture Lazarius.

“They had these…cuffs that eat void magic and prevent anyone from escaping on that power…” The Sin’dorei disguise void elf turned her fel-fire eyes to Kross as he stared at her with a narrowed gaze.

[ V.D ] The Confessor stiffened up, her lips pressing into a firm line.

[ L.K ] Dawnseeker. Kross could hardly control her even as she nearly burst at the seems trying to express how much panic was ensuing over the last few moments of her interaction. He would almost institutionally reach to calm her as he placed both hands on her shoulders and narrowed his vision into a stern glance.

"Dawnseeker. . ." At the talk of bounty hunters and devices, Kross peered around the hall, hoping someone would have been there to aid them but alas. He was alone. Dammit. "Calm down Zalra. . . Calm yourself. If he sent you here. . .it must have been for good reason. To get help." He was unsure how to react with the girl, Kross had not had much experience with her save for a few introductions here and there. He once helped her settle in her chambers when first arriving with the rest of them since it was many of the new orders first time within the Bastille.

"Where is Vari. . .gods be damned.” he muttered to himself.

“Someone get me The Harbinger. . ."

Kross would do the only thing he naturally thought he could in a situation such as this and moved away from the panicking huntress. He stepped silently toward the large brick terrace just off the main entrance way, and in the cove there was a large braided cord. It was gripped and pulled three times. The bell that was attached to it would sound through the entire hall, the entire Bastille for that matter.

He would alert every last person alive and even dead with the sound of that bell. The same bell that some of them may remember was used to announce the invading Gallows when the Bastille fell.

"Zalra. . . We will get him back. If I know Lazarius. . .he is stalling them. . .just calm yourself and breathe.*" Kross repeated as he looked toward the upper level waiting for a sign of help. It would almost seem as though he was trying to reassure himself of that same fact. Be calm. Do not panic.

[ R / L ] Raith was the only one who would be absent from the bell's call, no doubt. He was almost to his room, now. A few more paces and he could begin packing. A few more paces...and he would be done with these people who had come to raise him.

Done with these people who failed to pay enough attention, failed to interact with him. Failed to parent him...and worse yet, dared parent another with care and gentleness in front of his very eyes. Brinys will get what she deserves one day, but not today, he thought.

[ K.A ] Koltun stood outside of Raiths room, felfire glowing brightly through the worn fabric of his bandana. He didn't necessarily need to cover his eyes among those within the household, but he felt some propriety could be used. Even when used to seeing undead knights, void elves drained, and other horrors, it could still be unnerving to look up into the empty and burnt sockets of an illidari. Even if orbs of fel fire had taken up residence within the pockets. Large horns curving out and up from the main of his blond hair were tipped to the side slightly, the hunter cocking his head to regard the boy with silent curiosity.

He had heard the bell, hastily cleaning blood and gore from his claws and chest before heading out to answer the call, on my to see Raith heading the -other- way.

"Bastille hallways can be confusing, hmm?" The hunter rumbled, stretching a wing out with a small shake.

"I knew the halls of the Estate since I was younger than yourself, and even I still got turned around, but here? Forget it." His other wing stretched out, blocking the boys door in a casual manner.

"It would be my honor to accompany you to the call of the bell. Sounds important."

[ R / L ] Raith scowled at the wing blocking his way. "You don't need to, beast. I'm leaving." he spat.

[ Z.A ] Zalra felt her cheeks flush briefly with a rosy tint. Embarrassment crept up her throat as Kross suggested she calm herself. She was trying her hardest to have a strong stance to her report, but the old man had more years than her to read people more accurately than others.

When Kross’ hand’s gently steadied her shoulders, the ‘Sin’dorei’ tensed noticeably but did not shrug away. He was trying to help the situation and she couldn’t blame him for his efforts. She wasn’t going to be rude to the steward and shake him off, so she stood there accepting it.

Her mind was clear as Zalra prepared herself for the plan that was developing in the minds of those present; well…she hoped so. The situation was unfamiliar to her. She couldn’t formulate anything against this mysterious Dawnseeker.

[ K.A ] Koltun arched a brow at that. "Leaving, hmm?" And planted the rest of his body in front of the door, dominating it completely. He could have moved, could have simply let the boy run off, perhaps he would have, once upon a time. But something inside said no.

“Why?" He asked simply, folding his arms over the tattooed expanse of his bare chest.

[ R / L ] “If you idiots won't let me be useful, won't use my talents, or even give me attention, then I don't see why I'm sticking around.” said the young elf as he tried to get around him, failing.

[ K.A ] Examining his claws, the hunter remained silent, pursing his lips thoughtfully. Tucking his wings back, he stretched, then hooked an ankle over the other, full on leaning upon the door. It gave an uncomfortable creak beneath his weight, but remained firm.

"Mm. I see. How odd. For some reason I thought you were stronger than this. I dont know many your age who are granted schooling to enhance your skills and broaden your arsenal, the freedom to work on them at your pace, and a home with a roof and fine food. Those seen as strong individuals are rarely given coddling. They don't need it, it hinders." Koltun brought his arms up to hook behind his head, shifting his gaze to the ceiling.

"At least that's how I saw you. In fact I was downright jealous you were loved enough to be granted so much luxury... I wasn't when I was given to the estate." Tilting his head, Koltun regarded Raith.

"Guess I didn't need to be jealous. Only weak minded creatures throw tantrums and run away. Actually makes me sad. Wanted to get to know you."

[ R / L ] He pinned his ears back. His pride would no doubt be wounded. Clenching his fists, he told Koltun through nearly-gritted teeth, "...I'm. Not. Weak."

[ K.A ] Dark lips peeled back in a small grin, pearled canines peeking past.

"Oh? If you weren't weak, why are you running? Why are you throwing away opportunity only to return to dismembering rats on the street for fun? Looks less like a string decision and more like a weak temper tantrum to me." Kolt removed his bandana to dramatically run his eye with a fist.

"Woe is me! I'm not seen as useful because I'm still learning how to be better than I am now! Poor me, they want me to be the strongest but I'm too weak to see that so I'm going to run away! They care about me so much they adopted me and gave me opportunity but they're too -busy- trying to keep things running and everyone alive to pay coddle me except this damned illidari! Gods what an asshole that scaled beast is! How dare he -care-" He stopped and gave Raith a flat look.

"Sound familiar? You say you're not weak? I'm willing to believe it. But you have to crawl before you can walk, and walk before you can run. I'd rather see you at full strength with all the knowledge offered to you from here, than see you flail about like a fish our of water, whining you're strong and half assing your abilities because you cant see the big picture."

[ R / L ] Raith was silent for a while, but still scowling. "...Then I'm not running away." he said, turning on a heel to head to where the bell had originally summoned him.

[ S.D ] Between the sound of the bell and the overwhelming emotions flooding the halls from Raith, the Compellor rushed from her quarters. Had it not been for the wall of rage from the boy she would have likely ran into Kolt. “Both of you, please stop..” she grumbled holding her temple. She looked to Raith and reached for his hand as she too headed towards the sound—saying nothing but hoping the pained youth would take it. Which he did.

[ K.A ] Koltun smirked, rather proud that he'd thus far successfully prevented Raith from leaving. Perhaps he could have approached it differently, but the pride and anger he saw in the child made him realize that conventional methods, like ones he would use on Vari or Siida, wouldn't work. So he took things a bit tougher. In his eyes, Raith could do with a small dose of reality. As Sennaris emerged, he held his hands up.

"Hey, I'm just trying to help here." He offered, falling into step behind the two of them to answer the call.

The last thing he truly ever wanted to do, was be asked to hunt down and kill Raith if he left. He never kidded himself, he was not a good man. But even he put a limit on harming children.

[ V.D ] From the threshold in which she hid herself Tea would emerge in the Great Hall with a look of grief, alas she didn't look so overwhelmed. She looked determined. In her hand was her wand, the extension of her arm, the filter which helped concentrate her powers into booming magnificence.

Her hair fell into her eyes as she'd bow her head toward Zalra and Kross, given she didn't fully straighten herself though she did not speak. There was a frog there, stuffed inside of her throat, making it hard to swallow, to breathe

[ L.K ] Kross who had been waiting patiently for the rest of them to finally get there, turned upon hearing the sound of footsteps to notice it was Verzatea.

“Confessor...Did you not hear her? What are you doing just standing there! Defense of our Inquisitor, Students and Magic users now!”. His eyes were glowing fiercely white as her turned back toward Zalra.

“You came through, reactivate your talisman and take us back.”

“And somebody get Vari for the love of the Gods below!” Kross grabbed hold of Zalra and shoved her toward the door to hasten the need for action. “And find Koltun, maybe the demon can use his lack of eyesight to track him!”

In and entirely separate action, Marseille would leap over the side of the upper level and gracefully descend to the floor below, silent as his soft bare feet touched down against the stone. He would reach for the individual knives on his belt and count them lightly before nodding to assure he had them all, and also the tomahawk against his spine pushed between his belt loop and clothes.

[ P.K ] A raven within the rafters watched everything unfold, the beaded eyes shifting from onyx gems to stark-blue to match its mistress. Upon Kross’ command, he let out a wicked caw that was ominous and echoed through the halls. Upon hearing such deep within the bowels of the Bastille, her eyes shifted upward and a look of sudden fear overcame her visage for a mere moment. It was a fear not for herself, but for her brother.

As she trained the cultists, her eyes would then transform to that of the onyx beads of her raven, the pair exchanging vision a moment. She witnessed Kross in a rare state of unease and urgency and she barked her orders to the recruits that they would be needed soon enough.

The more elite of the army gathered around, circling them, readying to shift gears at the call of their mistress. Vari whirled away from them and within moments, the frigid aura was felt by all within the Grand Hall as she'd used her supernatural speed and strength to scale the underground tower. The chaotic whispers of madness that radiated from her saronite armor would be felt as the ominous clomps of plate along stone began a harsh echo along the walls before ceasing as she stood in place near the hall entrance, taking in the scene of congregated bodies before her.

She stood atop frost, fingers of ice now snaking outward from where she was stationed indicating just how furious she was. She looked wild, a fury in her lich-drenched eyes as she snapped her gaze from first Zalra then to Kross, coming to stand beside the steward as she felt her ire rise.

“What is this I hear about Lazarius?” she hissed, knowing well what it was that Guntram had allowed her to see and hear. The raven let out another caw, a rich, piercing noise before gliding down to settle along his mistress' shoulder.

[ L.K ] “Hunters tracked him to Kun-Lai Summit, working under the Magister named Dawnseeker. They’ve grabbed him, we need to get back there.”

Kross turned as Vari had arrived, he was feeling far more relieved at this point. The old gilnean only had one desire at this point, and that was to break through that door at once.

[ P.K ] A foreboding rumbling was making its way through the halls now, a slight shaking of the floors and the sound of plate on stone. It would be clear that the army was moving through the lower halls.

[ V.D ] Twisting atop her high heels the Confessor would whip forth her wand, bursts of bright blue-white light hurtling through the halls of the Bastille at a hasty speed -- in the distance one could see the lights separating, forming into her conjured animal of emergency and culling, beasts formed to herd and bring the students of the magically inclined Nine from their deep studies.

In the next instant had the ever silent Confessor whipped her wand around over head in a slight arch, a burst of dark magics settling over her being and consuming her for a mere moment. As she'd swiftly return to view, the shadows dispersing into a cloud of fading smoke to reveal Tea in her battle garb.

Cloth robes dressed in bits of metal plate to protect her torso and legs but remaining not so constricting. Her wrists were bandaged tightly with bracers, her hands decorated with metal claws attached to the tips.of her fingers. Her once free flowing blonde hair was now tugged up into a tight hair bun, around her neck hung the unused cloth hood. The dark purple and black of her garb contrasted drastically against her paling skin.

True she wasn't speaking. But she was fully present, and as students would begin to trickle in behind her dressed in garb similar to their last great war... She was prepared.

[ Z.A ] Zalra would notice more joining them, and spotted the more familiar face of Verzatea Dustkflame; The Confessor. The woman’s nod in brief greeting did not go unnoticed, however Zalra was shoved by Kross and turned her attention away. An appropriate reaction, to be fair. There were more pressing matters than the ‘Sin’dorei’ following frivolous formalities. As everyone prepared for battle, she too adjusted the grip of her strange, void-addled spear, and reached for the handle of the door with her gauntlet hand.

She ripped it open quickly to reveal not the Bastille’s hall closet, but a brief glance into the interior of the Kun Lai Summit mountainous cabin. Zalra would be the first through the portal on command.

[ P.K ] The rumbling was louder and the floor shook as The Nine’s most elite began to filter in behind their mistress into a very thick and odd formation in the small space. They were all clad in head to toe armor that was dark in color with violets and vibrant green accents. Helmets were drawn. Weapons of all variations were held. They waited.

[ L.K ] Stepping back through the portal beside the Spear wielding huntress would be the other who worked as she did. Marseille; the Shaldorei would be holding his knives and stepping in with her.

“We go. . .Zalra lead on, Confessor, your students to protect and seal the barrier. Harbinger hold the line. . .” Kross would rush in, and the scene they would find was mostly innocuous.

No sign of a struggle, no sign of blood or destroyed parts of the building. It seemed all was calm. Boot prints coming in from the front door of the small three room cabin we’re clear.

“Six men were here.”. Marseille said as he knelt down beside one set of tracks. The cabin was surrounded on all sides by pane glass windows, it opened the room up. Outside the others could see they were somewhere on the mountain. The fire and candles had been put out, an empty bottle of wine was spilled, a box looking to contain a gift was scattered. The look of a casual evening gone wrong.

“Marseille can you detect tracks.. where is he?”. Kross pushed his way into the room and began to look about.

“He was lofted. The weight and imprint of these tracks in the snow match one set of boots coming in, yet more weigh pushing down. He did not leave on his own.”. The Shaldorei stated while observing prints outside the door crushed into the fresh powder.

The tiny cabin was no where big enough to hold all the students and soldiers, it could possibly contain twenty people comfortably. They’d have to hold back. Kross would begin to look over the room before pushing his way back into the doorway to the Bastille. “I will attempt to contact him with the pit...”

Marseille on the other hand continued out into the snow. He would see if he could track them further. If there was a way to detect where they had gone, he would find it. But at that moment, when he had walked out the door, there was a sound upstairs. It appeared someone was left and still mulling about.

[ V.D ] With a careful tugging motion the Confessor would pull her hood up over her head, the hood fitting snugly around her ears and falling low into her darkened eyes whilst her boots another change to her attire from Verzatea to Confessor - crunching gently against the snow as she watched the Shade work. The noise was heightened slightly as the mages and other magically inclined spiritualists of the Nine fell in kine behind the lanky woman back inside the main room, four of them to be exact. As she drew closer to the meandering figure of Zalra, the woman lofted her free hand - though her wand hand was at the ready to defend - thus to taste the atmosphere. Feeling for any sort of magic in the air lingering in hopes to entrap her fellow Nine, metal claws slicing the air as she tapped into her third eye.

[ Z.A ] As soon as Zalra crossed the threshold, she made way for the handful of others participating in Lazarius’ rescue. However, she did hesitate briefly in her movements. The empty room and lack of bounty hunters made her stomach twist, but, deep down it was unsurprising. Dawnseeker’s men had their target; why would they wait around for a coat?

She listened carefully to Marseille’s investigative results and only frowned further, he was right. They couldn’t have gotten too far, though? Unless portals were involved. However, Zalra knew that someone would be able to track any arcane residue left behind, right? Then again, she didn’t know the extent of the group’s abilities.

She just stood by for orders to follow. Her intentions were to follow into the snow to help scout, however, something caught her attention. The huntress paused a couple feet from the door when she heard a strange sound above her.

“Someone is still here.” She stated flatly, eyes already to the ceiling. Parting from the group, Zalra cautiously headed up the nearby stairs; her spear poised defensively.

[ K.A ] Urgency. The air filled with it. Without warning Koltun launched himself skyward, fel tattoos flaring brightly to life as he soared down the hallway, up over the railing and spun down into the entrance hall, landing beside Vari. Already Fel energies twisted around his scaled form, spectral sight sweeping the room. He paused a moment at Zalra, tilting his head to listen.

Koltun didnt wait, stepping through the door of the Bastille to follow after Zalra and the others, already allowing fel to fill within his core, fueling his regular mutations into a further shift.

The sound of snapping bones and twisting muscle heralded his entrance into the area, his once short, 5'10 stature expanding until he nearly crested eight feet . Large, curving horns had grown, dark flesh now blackened, covered in building scales that coated his form in an approximation of armor, booted feet now replaced with talented feet.

A beast he was before, but it was no beast that ducked through the doorway after Marseille, but the full fledged shape of a demon. Terrifying felfire eyes flared to life as he set his gaze up the stairs, wings cracking with a sudden flex that stretched them out to cover the doorway. Both glaives rested comfortably within the demons clawed hands as he quietly let Zalra speak, a wave of darkness, fear inducing, flooding from his very form.

[ L.K ] Inside the cabin, Verzatea and Zalra stood at the base of the small staircase which led up to a loft where the bedroom would no doubt be. The cabin was not large by any standard, it was however very fancy and rather luxurious in all other areas. Lazarius did love this place, it was a shame that another of his precious homes was now lost.

Marseille had moved outside into the heavy snow and wind, the poor man was barely dressed in anything but leathers and a few scraps of cloth. He was busy tracking where the group went off to.

Koltun too had rushed out the door but upon hearing the sounds and the women inside, would force himself back toward the front door.

Kross returned into the Bastille with hopes that he could in fact detect where Lazarius was being taken with the Pit of Lothia. It was a long shot but it may have been worth trying.

Back in the cabin, Upstairs there came another noise. But the sound of the door opening was quite the tell that it was in fact a person. Maybe even one of those grummles but a person was up there none the less.

“Come all this way, an’ not a god damn thin’ tah steal.” a voice which was like sand paper on the ear came rushing down the stairs. It would be like a mixture of dwarvish common and southern pirate. It was raspy, coarse and throaty, obviously male.

Heavy plated boots began to march down the hallway leading to the landing before the stairs. Whoever this was had spurs, or the chains of his armor were rattling as he walked.

“What ah fuckin’ waste o’ time... collect some old cheap bastard...can’t even pillage or kill... waste o’ meh time.” after his next exchange which sounded like he was talking to himself there would be a faint sound of air valves being released and gas being expelled from a servo motor.

The sound of gears and cog wheels turning, a clearly mechanical sound. Though he was still heading toward the top of the stairs. The two below, Verza and Zalra clearly knew he was coming before he would know they were down below.

[ V.D ] A slow glance was offered to Zalra, the Confessor's wand tip aloft and pointed into the direction of the concerning new voice, her shoulders tensing and head bowing and tilting in a manner kin to that of a snake. Alas, she didnt start tasting the air with her tongue. That would be weird. Instead she turned to her charges nearby, and waved her fingers in the air, two to be exact in a circular motion followed by a tightly balled fist.

They knew exactly what was being said and in silence, the four of them rushed to the doorway of the Bastille and began channeling a barrier to keep the others in, and the danger out. More so, it was to prevent harm from anyone else entering. The Bastille would deal with intruders on its own if someone did breech the gateway.

She rolled her weight onto the tips of her boots and began her slow ascending, creeping along the steps whilst aiming to follow the voice, her curiosity peaked.

“Perhaps he has answers regarding our Lord'“ she'd hiss so softly beneath her breath.

[ L.K ] Step by step, inch by inch. It would seem Zalra was slowly trying to ascend the stairwell, while in the same series of events another person was casually making there way down the hall toward them. It would be safe to say that the two women and several other students were safely about mid-way up the stairs. The climb was slow and cautious and it would be worth their wait to do so in the most calm and careful manner possible.

And at that same very moment it would seem that the front door of the little cottage would burst to light and come swinging open into the room sending a rush of cold air to go fluttering through the lower levels and right up the stairs. Marseille, who had been out in the cold tracking, had rushed into the room with his breath nearly taken away. His calm and almost tranquil demeanor would be broken when he shouted to the two women who were in his sight.

"There is one still here!" It seemed they knew, and the Shal'dorei was already poised with two knives split between his index and ring finger and thumb and index finger on both hands; he was prepared to hurl them at someone.

It would be this action that would cause the students and two higher acting officers to turn and study the actions of the slender man, they would have never noticed the man who had appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Well, well. . .what'dah'we 'ave 'ere." The male voice that had just spoken to them was that of the intruder who was now looking down at the group.

Standing before them at the top of the landing, was a mountain of a Sin'dorei man. He was quite tall and his features were covered from head to toe in a thick and glorious set of obsidian armor. Save of course for the mechanical hand that was still operating and buzzing away.

His face was heavily scarred, covering most of his lower mouth and lips with slash marks and blade attacks. His ears were halved. The left missing most of the top part where the tip would have been and the right missing most of the lobe and bottom. His eye, yes one, was a fel fire green but began to bleed into that strange yellow hue that so many who were reunited with the sunwell had. The other, well, the other was covered by a thick black leather eye patch.

He hissed and snarled as the monstrous man held a halberd that even rivaled the one Zalra had, it was very menacing and dripping with blood already. And to top it all off, that red foxtail behind his head was bobbing back and forth when he spoke.

"Seems we'ave some intruders. . ."

TBC... “In Depths Below: Lament, Part 2″

@siidaraykashebahl

@daltalah

@pyravari-kashebahl

@thebladeitself

@whatadarkbitch

@zalraazurestar

@lady-dawnblood

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fidgetnano19 · 4 years

Text

Day 1, Part 1: Rumours

Translations:

Mergi: Hired soldiers, knights, etc. If you pay them to fight for you, this is the word for them

Ona: Girl, outdated. Mostly used by older people and country folk

Seva: Mistress, concubine, what-have-you

Meagana: Something roughly akin to dryads

Pasenro: Elves. There’s a way more specific definition, because these ones are distinct, but it’s not relevant in this chapter

Ceamar, 4 years ago

Zain didn’t put much thought into rumours. Not that he was privy to all that many – as a stranger in this land, he was lucky enough to procure himself a room for the night, and a hot meal. Catching wind of local gossip would be nearly impossible, even if he was far more interested in such things.

Except for tonight. Tonight, he’d happened to feel like drinking, and – as luck would have it – a few of the other men at the tavern were just like him, foreigners headed for Ravendenn, off to seek a fortune, or make a name for themselves, or whatever the hell else they expected to accomplish by joining Egom Orestes’ mergi. Zain would count himself lucky if the signing bonus put enough coin in his pocket to keep him from starving to death in the streets, but these… well, these were men of much loftier ambition.

As the wine flowed and the night stretched on, conversation turned. What once was hearty introductions – where they were from, where they were headed, and what they hoped to find once they got there – turned to idle chitchat.

Zain was too far into his cup, and too unaccustomed to having company, to listen to most of it. In fact, he was just preparing to settle his debt and make a hasty, though probably less than graceful, exit to his room.

“That’s all well an’ good”, the man to his left – a Leojan, judging by his thick brogue – grinned from ear to ear, jabbing his elbow into Zain’s ribcage before leaning over the table, like he was about to impart some secret wisdom handed down from Gri herself. “But, have ya lads ‘eard about the ona?”

The other men murmured amongst themselves, shaking their heads and turning their wide eyes to the man expectantly.

Yes, now would be an ideal time to retreat. Zain started to do just that, until the man’s hand clamped down on his shoulder, holding him in place.

“Where’re you off to in such a rush? We’re jus’ gettin’ ta the good part!”

“I was just,” Zain hesitated, glancing helplessly toward the staircase that would lead him to bed. “Off to 'pay my respects’, as it were”, he lied quickly, praying the words would appease his host.

“Well, pinch it a damn minute!” one of the other men demanded, pounding his fist against the table, an eager glint in his eyes. “We want to hear about the girl!”

“They say she’s a rhare beauty, beyon’ compare. She come fra somewheres else, but Orestes keeps 'er lockt up in 'is palace, an’ he won’t let nobody but 'im an’ 'is own lay eyes on 'er!”

Now that was odd. And not exactly what Zain had been expecting when the man brought her up. Who was this girl? A young seva, maybe. A meagana, or a pasenro foolish enough to leave the safety of Azurous seemed just as probable… he’d long heard tales of them being kept like pets for the jojea, though he had no idea if there was any truth to that.

“Pull the other one, old timer! If he never lets her out, how would you even know she exists?”

An excellent question, and one Zain hadn’t stopped to consider.

“I seen 'er wit me own two eyes, when she were jus’ a li'l sprig of a thing. She come to Leoja, for Eika Reidory’s marrying off!” The man insisted, leaning back in his seat to polish off what was left of his drink. “But, that’s not the strangest thing. Folks up in Ravendenn, they say she gives Orestes the slip e'ryso'oft, makes 'er way into town… ‘cept she’s always dressed in boys clothes.”

“Boys clothes?” Zain forgot himself, taken by surprise. A great beauty, dressed as a boy…

Could it be?

No, it wasn’t possible. That would too good to be true, and besides, he’d already given up… mostly. After all, he’d searched half the known world, wasted years looking, and had nothing to show for his efforts.

“Oh, we got 'is ahtenshion naow!” The older man laughed, slapping Zain on the back. “Auk, but sadly, I don’t be knowing anymore 'bout it than that.”

Once he was upstairs, alone in his hired room, he flopped on to the bed and sighed heavily. Heartbreak or salvation, which one awaited him in Ravendenn? Was it okay to let himself dream, just for one more night, that his quest might finally come to a happy ending?

#fidgenano #mergi zain #nano 2k19 #day 1 #nano day 1

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batfamscreaming · 7 years

Text

Unconsolable (Roadtrip Vigilante continuation #1)

Gordon knows he’s never going to clear out Gotham completely. He knows you can’t put an end to all crime. He knows it’s a never-ending battle.

For some reason, people don’t seem to talk about that with the police force. How of course there’s always gonna be crime. It’s not the fucking end of the world. When Pompeii went out, covered in ash, they had graffiti on the walls, and he’s sure when Gotham finally crumbles into dust, it’ll look much the same as Pompeii did.

But every night, he lights a cig, blows it out into the air, and goes to work anyway.

They’ll say the food programs should stop when people who are spending their money on drugs use it, and that disability access should be made inaccessible because some asshole might fake their way into it, but no one says cops shouldn’t do their job just because it’ll be a never-ending one.

Funny how that is, sometimes.

Babs loves her computer. It’s a way for her to connect with the world in a way she’s had trouble doing now that she’s in a chair.

Gordon knows he’s a lucky motherfucker. He could’ve lost his daughter that day. He could’ve not been able to pay the medical bills. He could’ve not been able to buy his girl a good wheelchair. Not been able to afford a therapist. Not been able to guarantee Babs a job later in life. If she ever wanted disability benefits she wouldn’t be able to get them from the government--unless he hides all the money in his own bank and writes her down as non-dependant on his taxes. So instead he’s gotta save up a fund for her, and he has the savings and salary to do that . He can make sure she’s got a fighting chance if something happens. He took out fucking life insurance years ago, when his wife left him. After he lost his son. It’s all going to his daughter when he dies.

He’s not losing his daughter first.

So he never fucking tells Babs to get off the computer. He hears some of the other parents at the precinct or in the bars talking about how much time their kids spend on the computer and how awful it is, and Gordon’s just glad computers are easier for Babs to deal with than buildings without elevators or ramps.

There’s a lot of coffee shops she can’t get into, now.

There’s dentist offices she can’t get into, now.

So if Bab’s idea of a good time is getting on forums online and talking to strangers, then. Well.

At least she’s anonymous, and those strangers live too far away to ever come and ring the doorbell.

He… he’s honestly not good at looking on the bright side, though. He doesn’t see a lot of bright sides in Gotham. He doesn’t like Gotham, actually.

He kind of hates the place. Hates the rain and how his khakis always damp when he sits down, and there’s never any dry seats at the bus stops. Hates the gloom and how he doesn’t blame all those Gotham kids being on their computers all day with weather like this, with a city like this, with the cigarette butts left in the cracks of sidewalks where not even weeds will grow (and as he thinks it, he flicks ash off the end of his own cig, and misses the flowers that grew out of cracks in Chicago.)

(this city murdered one of his kids and tried to murder the other. It’s dumb luck Barbara’s alive. It’s dumb luck the worst damage is her spine.)

(He doesn’t walk a beat anymore. Not since his promotion, and he’s fucking glad for it. The less time spent on Gotham streets, the better.)

(...)

(but no one says a police officer should stop his job just because it seems overwhelming.)

He doesn’t like to watch the news anymore. He hasn’t for a long time. The politicians are all antichrists and the madmen are misunderstood angels, and the fine line between the two generally just means there’s a political madman with a good reputation that might actually be the antichrist. Gordon knows there’s a God out there, but he’s an alien it seems, and spews lasers from his eyes; same way there’s an underwater city somewhere, but they aren’t part of the UN and they are pissed about it. There’s a whole other world of aliens and martians and women who crush boulders between their fists and mechanical men, but not in Gotham.

There’s only one thing in Gotham, and it’s never been a god.

Understandably, Gordon is a bit confused when he sees the report on his desk.

“What the fuck’s a ‘Batman’?”

The guy across from him, Bullock, just lights up his cig-- cigar, not cigarette--and grins like he’s finally heard something funny.

(When Gordon first joined the force, he caught Bullock taking bribes. The only reason Gordon trusts him now is because when Bullock saw a reason to stop taking bribes, he stopped hard , and took some kind of glee in being an honest cop again.)

“Ain’t been watchin’ the news lately, Jim?”

“God no.”

“Hah! You’ve been missin’ out this last year!”

“Yeah, yeah. What’s that got to do with this?”

“Some masked vigilantes runnin’ round the plains got spotted in Gotham last night. Batman an’ Robin. Sure you never heard of ‘em?”

“Positive.”

“You’re missin’ out. Freak’s dragging a kid around with ‘im.”

While Bullock speaks, Gordon glances up to see Bullock’s face twisting into the toothiest grin around his cigar. It looks more like a grimace, when you know him. Some kinda sick amusement. That’s their version of gallows humor here, Gordon supposes, but his own face remains pretty well blank.

He’s saving his disgust for something more shocking.

“Won’t be our problem for long,” Bullock continues, blowing out a heavy cloud of smoke and closing his eyes. “They move on as soon as they’re spotted. By the time they run it on th’ news tonight, they’ll be gone. Might as well trash whoever they brought in or th’ D.A. will throw a fit. Th’ faster they get out, the better.”

Gordon sighs and pushes his glasses up onto his forehead and rubs his face.

He doesn’t understand what ‘whoever they brought in’ means, but he trusts Bullock.

He puts that report aside for later and moves onto the next one.

That night, Gordon flicks on the TV in his living room and watches it while the stair lift buzzes behind him--it’s just Babs coming down slowly on the hydraulics they’d gotten installed. It wasn’t a tall staircase, but that meant nothing when you were recovering from months in the hospital with a gunshot wound in your abdomen, your lower body newly paralyzed, and you didn’t want to stay on the ground floor where you’d once been attacked.

The lift hisses while carrying her chair down, but not enough to cover the sound of the news.

“...man and Robin were spotted last night in Gotham City up in Park Row, where the duo stood on the rooftops for long enough for a passerby to get this snapshot before they bounded away! Two store robberies were also allegedly thwarted by the duo last night, though there’s no report if any arrests have been made at this time.”

The police were going over witness reports and the security footage, of course there were no arrests.

“A social media sensation for over a year, Batman and Robin were spotted around cities from the midwest to Northern California, rumors of their deaths followed a vicious backlash after the realization that ‘Robin’ appears to be a young child of between the ages of eleven to fourteen. The Justice League has not responded to requests for comment at this-- ”

The hydraulics stop humming, and Babs wheels her way over to her dad, laptop on her legs and her hair up in a pony tail.

She leans over to kiss his cheek, and Gordon gives his daughter a side-hug in return, and they both grunt with the squeeze.

“You taking it easy tonight?” she asks, leaning back in her chair and nodding towards the TV.

“Eh,” Gordon says, shrugging and looking back at the screen. There was a grainy nighttime picture of the two. And yeah. That was a kid standing there, tall beside a kneeling, dark figure on the rooftop. “Takin’ it easy, maybe, but not relaxing too much.”

“Well, yeah,” Babs says, snorting. “You’re watching GNN.”

“I shoulda watched the election.”

“You shoulda watched the election.”

“Any new good shows I can watch besides the election?”

“Good one’s you’ll like? ” his whiz-kid asks, and he grunts and shrugs in reply. “Netflix has a good documentary out on the prison industrial complex.”

Gordon groans and let his head fall onto the arm of the couch. Babs laughs.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s try you out on Grace and Frankie.”

The next cycle of late-night news, Robin and Batman still aren’t gone.

Two days. Okay. They can deal with that.

There weren’t pictures this time--not of the duo--but Gordon knows they were still in the city last night. He knows for sure, and he’s--unsettled, a little bit.

He came to the station the next morning like any other day, opened up his office, and found a gangly pile of limbs behind his desk, under the window.

The gangsters were all still alive, thank god (whatever crimes they’d committed, he was sure it was understandable he’d rather they be tied up alive on his rug than tied up dead on his rug.) They were gagged and bound, and had little pieces of paper stapled to the ropes with lists of crimes and names and injuries.

All of them were wanted criminals. Most of the crimes listed on the papers were already known.

And fuck.

All Gordon could think about while the precinct went into a small civil riot around him was about the man he’d found tied up at his desk five years before, shaking and with a signed confession in his pocket, and how Gordon hadn’t known if he should call for help, or if it was a joke, or if his colleagues would murder him on the spot when they arrived there.

He wasn’t joking about the murder. He didn’t like it when people joked about killer cops and killing other cops. And their families. And anyone else who crossed their path.

(His son’s body hadn’t been recovered. His son lay dead somewhere in the cold dark of Gotham’s water.)

At least he didn’t have a whole precinct to suspect anymore.

By the first shout he’d made when he opened the door, Montoya and Allen were already there, hands on holsters, getting Jim behind them, and inspecting the scene. A moment later Harvey pulled him even further back, scowling and cigar burning acidic in the air.

“The fuck’s going on in here?” Harv asked.

The rest of the day felt lost in a haze of thick smoke.

(Five years ago, Tony Zucco was shaking and tears-all-down-his-face at Gordon’s desk, tied hands-and-feet, piss-stained, and all he would tell them about what happened before they put him away was that he’d met a Man.

Gordon’d dreamed of silhouettes for weeks.

Like the bullseye targets they used. That kind of simple male bathroom-icon shape. A dark figure standing off in the distance over all the murders of the day, like a foreboding god on the horizon.)

He went home. Bought a coffee at a café on his way back. Not his usual pitstop. Bought his daughter a coffee too. Frozen. Chocolate.

Gordon’s coffee was hot. It burned when it went down his throat, but it warmed his fingers and his gut until he almost felt human, despite the pouring rain.

He just tried to keep what Harvey said in his mind as he thought about those young thugs found tied up in his office.

They never stay in one place too long .

...Batman and Robin didn’t leave.

There were no more blurry photos of them standing over Park Row, and there were no more criminals in Gordon’s office as he walked in to find the window open and the curtains swaying in the early morning chill.

This time they were left outside on the corner.

Someone from the night shift had come out to go for a smoke, then run back inside in a panic; something about hostages tied up outside. She hadn’t had another word for the line of people lying out on the sidewalks, certain they were going to die.

Hostages.

( “It was Batman ,” one of them said. Gordon was on the other side of the glass. Listening to the interrogation. This one was young. Not many offences. By Gotham standard, the handful of breaking-and-entering robberies wasn’t much, but this last time, it’d been at knifepoint--“ I-I thought he was supposed to be gone by now .”)

By day three, their cells were filling up in holding far faster than any of them were used to, and they were running out of space. If things didn’t stop soon, they’d have to release some of the lower-level offenders just to try to make enough room, and without enough thought, that kind of action could spark outrage or break what fragile trust Gordon managed to build with the community. The GNN kept talking, kept repeating takes between election commercials and reports on the Batman Lookalike, because they’d all decided that this couldn’t be the real Batman and Robin, who never stayed in one place. It had to be an imposter duo inspired by heroism and child neglect.

(Regardless of whether or not it was a copycat Batman, Gordon just kept thinking about years ago, and Tony Zucco on his floor talking about how he’d almost been killed. Two days ago, and a line of hostages lying outside their precinct.)

In the end it didn’t really matter who was who, because Gordon’s cells were still filling up. They’d started posting an officer outside the precinct just to find the new drops as fast as they could before hypothermia set in, and when new ones weren’t falling from the fucking sky they’d be found on the roof, now, so--

So Gordon made a journey he always dreaded going on.

Gordon went to the D.A.

They needed trial dates, and they needed trial dates fast.

Harvey Dent was, overall, a… good guy.

…

Gordon was doing his best to be generous. Because it was apparent to him that Harvey Dent did really believe he was doing the right thing, and that he was taking the right path to do it.

But it was also apparent to Gordon that they did not see Eye to Eye on some things.

But, fortunately, neither he nor Harvey liked to drink.

It was the funniest things that could bond people. Like a family history of alcoholism.

(They didn’t bond too deep over that.)

Gordon got up to Harvey’s floor, got offered coffee from a private coffee machine in the waiting room right outside the office, and damn it he’d had a long day so he accepted that fucking coffee.

“Harvey,” he said, drinking. “We need trial dates.”

Gordon’s thinking Harvey Dent, the man with the biggest hateboner against crime in Gotham, would be thrilled to have quicker trial dates. But Harvey Dent, a man who has barbells in his office for when he just wants to lift weights when he’s tired of being an attorney , just frowns over the rim of his coffee cup and says, “No fucking shit.”

“A batty man’s already gathering all the evidence,” Gordon says, feeling the headache already coming on. But Harvey’s young, even though a lawyer shouldn’t really need it spelled out for him. “So unless you’re spending your late nights in a cape yourself, it’s time to do the late nights.”

He can’t deny that he’s a little bit watching for a response, but to be fair: Harvey Dent has the largest hateboner for crime in Gotham, and lifts weights when he’s bored .

Gordon doesn’t know where young folks these days got the energy.

Harvey just stiffens, glares, and starts, “I would never-- ”

Gordon drinks his coffee, pretty sure Harvey had at least thought about it since seeing the news. Two copycats is two too many.

“Yeah, yeah, you wouldn’t have brought a kid,” he says.

Harvey’s hackles go down.

Trial dates aren’t just a Gotham problem. In fact, they’re something of a US-wide problem. The constitution sets trial dates as at least 160 days after arrest, just so people can’t rot in jail for years without ever being proven guilty. Except that’s exactly what’s happening, and with the sudden felon influx, the jails are even more bloated with people who’ve never even been convicted. They were already running out of cells, and now they’re just crammin’ ‘em in like sardines.

People like Dent’s careers are based on keeping people in or out out of jail.

People like Gordon’s are made on arrests.

Gordon’s sitting on a kettle of jaded and crooked cops trying to get extra bucks between writing up real tickets, and Dent’s got a boiling pot of the young, idealistic, and easily-bribed, and they simply don’t have enough judges and lawyers to go through the crimes in Gotham. There’s too many bodies and too few people to process them. Dent’s lawyers don’t want to take cases they’ll obviously lose and take a hit on their careers. Gordon doesn’t want control over his precincts taken away by sheer inability to handle the flood. Neither of them want misdemeanors trapped in jail with felons and made to sit for three or more years before a trial.

So.

So they have to hash some shit out, between them. Commissioner of Police and Gotham County District Attorney.

They don’t have enough public defenders--lawyers who are paid to just fucking defend cases and don’t have to worry about losing so much since they’re already on payroll. They need to rotate prosecutors on the shaky cases that look like losses to not ruin anybody. They need more Judges to oversee cases. They need to lower bail and parole costs so they might get some bail and parole money, since Gotham celebrities are more interested in paying individual cops as they’re caught--not in paying the department. Hopefully bail’ll open up some space, too. They invest in ankle tags for the least violent confirmed offenders; the misdemeanor cases that are too old for juvie. Dent says he’ll talk with the judges about trying to find community service punishments for the tagged ones.

The ‘Batman and Robin’ criminals aren’t offered the option of bail, but that’s mostly for their own protection.

It's… expensive. Not as bad as it could be, but both he and Dent are trying to manage their budgets, and they're trying to petition the mayor for funds, but the mayor is in the mob’s pocket so the mayor is the only one who doesn't have to give a shit about money right now--

They get the first of the Batman and Robin criminals on trial. A mobster.

Gordon doesn't know who they're trying to send a message to, but someone tries to shoot Dent right there.

Right in the courtroom.

…

Jim Gordon waits on a rooftop. It's lit by a cigarette and a flood lamp. Overall, it's pretty well lit.

Beside him is a can of yellow spray paint. Washable. The rain will take it off in a day or so.

But right now, there's no rain, and Gordon is waiting and smoking.

He'd drawn the symbol on the roof an hour ago. The paint’s dried by now, but he still walks over it carefully when he gets up to stretch his legs; treats it like it's still wet. The flood lamp lights it up well. If someone's flinging themselves over rooftops at this time of night anywhere near the precinct, they'll see it.

It's cold, though. It's cold, and the floodlight is bright, but doesn't offer much warmth, even when Gordon stands right next to it. The wind’s going at his coat and his beard has frosted tips on it by midnight.

And Harvey Dent is in the hospital.

…

Gordon hears the footsteps before anything else, and turns to find a man-shaped shadow behind him.

…

The longer he looks, the funnier the outfit looks under the floodlight. But Gordon’s not laughing.

“This yours?” the man who is trying to look like Batman grumbles, pointing down to the painted bat.

“Yeah,” Gordon says, and let's his cig fall to the ground, and then steps on it. “I was hopin’ you'd notice it, actually.”

“Is there something you need, Commissioner?” the wannabe hero says, and if Gordon didn't know better, he'd say the guy almost sounded something like eager.

“Yeah,” Gordon says, and lights another cig, and prepares to go for his gun at the first sign of violence. “I'm gonna need you to get the fuck out of my city.”

It isn't Jim Gordon’s fault.

He never knew Gotham’s favorite son had finally, finally come home.

Jim’s own son never would.

Years and years ago: his infant son, James Jr., thrown off a bridge by someone who was supposed to be Jim’s senior officer.

This city ate his son. It tried to eat his daughter.

James Gordon hates Gotham more than any man on Earth could hate a place, but he still lives in it.

He wants to think Gotham can get better, but first he has to get some sort of order established.

Batman is fucking up any sense of order this city ever had.

#jim gordon #batman #barbara gordon #harvey dent #bruce wayne #harvey bullock #beatext #beafic #roadtrip vigilantes #batman fanfic #fanfic

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magicaaria · 5 years

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https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757608/chapters/46767166

I really would love to get into roleplaying and actually fleshing out who/what my character is, but until that time, I will post the first chapter from a fan fiction I wrote AWHILE AGO but was too shy to ever upload... >///> I’m not a writer, by any means, but this work is about my FFXIV character Emilia and Ser Aymeric. Hope you guys like it! I’ll upload other chapters on AOO if you’re interested --> https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757608/chapters/46767166 ps: here’s a picture of modern, older Emilia from SHB <u< I wobbles my little white mage popoto <3

The Lord Commander frowned as he walked into the upper floors of the establishment. Both the loud screams and bustle of the inn drowned him immediately, which became even louder as the door to the wintery town behind shut against it’s frame. Lucia and his accompanying dragoon stepped in alongside of him, “Shall we talk to the inn-keep or?” Aymeric had always enjoyed the smell of spiced brandy, or the lull of mulled wine, but the scent of adrenaline and merriment was overwhelming tonight. He had grown up in homes and places such as these, so the smell and general grime of pubs he didn’t mind, the warmth was especially comfortable; he did mind the attitude of the crowd, however. He couldn’t quite see over the railings to the source of the commotion coming from below, but he could hear her voice; loud, clear, and heavily slurred. “Don’t you d-dare *hic* lay a hand on me you lengthy welp of *hic* trash!” The elezen’s face hardened as he began to push through the crowded stairway. Alphinaud had sought him in the Congregation just recently, reporting that Tataru had lost sight of Emilia shortly before dinner at House Fortemps. Tataru had begun a search near Camp Dragonhead, where Emilia had frequented on her previous missions for the Holy See, but no sightings of her had been reported from the latter half of the morning. Aymeric had heard mention of the Warrior of Light frequenting areas in Coerthas with her two comrades, of which his companion Estinein had taken a liking to. To assist with the reclamation of their guild, the trio would set out in the forelands to scavenge and hunt, and as Emilia had told him once before, to “clear her mind of politics and judgement.” As a protective measure, however, he had asked his long-time friend to accompany the scions and the miquo’te’s on their trips into the snowy wastelands. Ascians had become much too brave of late and with the trio being new, in addition to that of the remaining primal slayers he housed in the Foundation, it created a very desirable situation for that of the latter party. To the long and short of it, Alphinaud sought the Lord Commanders help after conducting his own search through the Pillars, “I know Emilia is sometimes prone to wander off by herself. Considering what’s happened recently I wouldn’t entirely blame her for wanting some space, but she knows to report in by linkpearl if she will be gone for any length of time. For Hydaelyn’s sake we’re trying to keep a low profile after what happened with the rest of the Scions!” In response, Ser Aymeric took to Lucia and his guard to begin a sweep of the city, including the lower dwellings of the Foundation, whilst Estinein, Yvette, and D’ve took on that of the Ishgardian wilderness. It didn’t take long, but the first report to return was from that of the nearby inn; last they’d seen, an armor-clad miqo’te wielding a rather large blade in the nearby Forgotten Knight was drinking with a collection of elezens. Since, a warrant had been issued to the guard to remove her at once, and by whatever means necessary. The Lord Commander’s lips grew taunt as he reached the landing at the end of the spiraled staircase. Both Lucia and his accompanying Temple Dragoon insisted they remain among the crowd, just on the chance that any issue were to arise by the removal of their target. The Scions may be trying to keep a low profile amongst the community of Ishgard, but this woman is the Warrior of Light. He simply would not have her name slandered before the people could have words with her themselves. “‘Oy, I told chu *hic* do yew not know eho I am yew *hic* rubbish?!” Ser Aymeric cleared the last of the crowd and the room suddenly fell silent, save for the group in the very center. Emilia, clad in bloodstained, chain-mail style armor was standing atop a long wooden bar table. His eyes widened as he took in the scene; she stood tall, one hand wrapped around the neck of a young Elezen man and the other wrapped tightly around a blade more than equal to that of the miqo’te’s height and double her width. Three others were standing before her with blades, not quite the size of her own but still large enough to rival, and steins still heralding the evenings tap. The Lord Commander began walking forward, trying his best not to brandish his own sword in the process. The miqo’te wore a feral grin on her lips revealing, in part, her sharpened canines and slightly bleeding teeth. Her hair curled in its normal one-sided fashion, matted and slick along the frame of her face, but beneath the blood and bangs her eyes stared with vibrant fervor. Unblinking, cold, and all color, aside from her knife-like pupils. She didn’t falter her stance or hold as the clang of armor and footsteps grew closer, but rather she moved back, dragging the poor Elezen with her. “Bitch, I’m warning you for the last bloody time, put me bloke down or I’m going to bury my blade in your fucking bosom.” Emilia spat a large glob of blood at the man and laughed, “Yer bloke ‘ere *hic* thought it’d be a funny to come up an’ try to wack my tail wit his blade, *hic* afer he dun called me a whore lookin’ fer a good ‘ime.” Aymeric felt a sudden, molten coolness take him from the stomach and feed in slow, branching sharpness to his chest and arms. His hand had already found and drawn his blade, it was his sudden realization of so that kept him from lunging forward and gouging it into the man’s back. “Fer dat, me thinks thi-“ “Enough.”

What little noise remained in the room stopped. The men’s yelling, the drinking, the merriment and drinks sliding along the bar, the man’s wheezing between the miqo’te’s armored forearm-all of them, turned with watch and warrant towards the Elezen nearing the edge of the bar.

Emilia, inebriated though she was, faltered and dropped her blade onto the wooden surface of said bar with a loud, awkward clang. “I-“

Ser Aymeric rounded his cold blue eyes on her, stopping her mid-sentence, then brought them back to the men surrounding. “You kind gentlemen will do well to go on your way. My comrade, here, will release your friend to the care of mine,” Lucia stepped forward from the crowd, moving between the man and to Emilia, reaching for him. She released the Elezen immediately, to which Lucia took him by his arm and shoulder and began marching him through the space left from her approach. Aymeric continued, “Should you have any objection, you may speak with the Holy See on the ‘morrow and beg that your display of public intoxication and disordinance be removed from your public records and your workman’s licenses to be reissued.”

One of the men suddenly became aware of his predicament and began to speak up but the Lord Commander raised his hand in silence. “If you wish to state a grievance, you would do well to do it in the company of those who’ve not heard you state you wish to whore this woman before you.”

The Lord Commander continued walking forward until he was between the Elezen men and the miqo’te standing atop the bar. In one swift movement, he brought his arm up and swept the woman down and into his chest, holding her so her head was resting against the platemail on his right shoulder. With a brisk turn, he placed a coin sack on the bar, stated it was for the “damages”, then walked through the crowd the way he’d entered.

#ser aymeric #warrior of light #wol #Ser Aymeric / warrior of light #fanfic #archive of our own #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy xiv fanfiction #WOL/Ser Aymeric #miqote #primal server #bad writer don't hate me plz #D:#I like commas

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