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cherrycola27 · 9 months

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the darkest little paradise

Series Warnings: Mafia!AU. Language, drugs, alcohol, death, violence, smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Next Part

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Prologue: The Auction

It had been sixteen years since you'd been home. Sixteen years since you made the biggest mistake of your life and your father shipped you off to boarding school in Italy.

You'd learned a lot in those sixteen years. You redeemed yourself in your father's eyes and helped grow the family business. You were certain that he was going to give you back your birthright and make you his successor once again. Something you had lost that faithful night.

But before he could, he died, tragically, suddenly—suspiciously.

You were sure it was at the hands of your younger brother. He'd always been jealous of you. You were positive that he set you up all those years ago and convinced your father that he would be a better heir to the empire.

You knew that he killed your father to keep him from handing you the business.

You just had to prove it.

You hated being back in the States. But your brother forced you to come back by having your assets frozen. It was wither come home, sell your body, or starve. Honestly, the last two options don't seem so bad now.

Thankfully, you wouldn't have to face him today. Instead, you were making an appearance in his honor at a charity auction at your country club. It was a masked bachelor's auction. Feral men and women with more money than they had sense would bid on attractive men from the community like they were prized cattle. To make it more anonymous, everyone masks. It added to the appeal.

You knew that these auction weren't supposed to end in an R-rated way, but you knew more often than not, they did. That's exactly what you were hoping for.

Your brother was supposed to be one of the bachelors tonight, but he was called away on "business." His right hand and second in command would be stepping in for him. You planned on spending whatever amount it took to take him home with you tonight.

Your brother would kill you if he knew what you were planning, but you didn't care. This was all a part of the long game that you were playing.

You reached into your clutch purse and took our mirror, and checked your reflection. Your red lipstick was still perfect. The silvery- grey mask your wore looked flawless and complimented your outfit well.

You were dressed in your signature color— sapphire blue. The liquid silk gown you had chosen flowed over your body and hugged your neck with a beautiful halter neckline. You had platinum and pearl and sapphire earrings dangling from your lobes.

Your mother's well loved sapphire and diamond ring was snug on your right hand, where it had lived ever since she passed.

Your driver turned into the country club and made his way up the long driveway before pulling up to the front doors where an actual red carpet had been rolled out. You rolled tour eyes at the spectacle that was being made. Sure, the theme of the evening was "Hollywood Glamour," but this felt like a bit much.

Nevertheless, you put your mirror away and grabbed the snow-white fur stole from the seat beside you and draped it between your elbows. It was the same color as the fine powder that you finally was infamous for.

Your father always told people he made his money through a hedge fund, but really, your family fortunate came from the drug trade, cocaine to be specific.

While you personally didn't participate in the use of your family product, you could sell the hell out of it. You introduced it to the upper crust circle of Europe and expanded business ten-fold for your father.

And as much as you wish you could say your family's real business was a secret, you knew it wasn't. Your father had every politician and lawman in his back pocket. You could get away with anything because of who you were.

You sat patiently as you waited for your car door to be opened. Soon, Raphael, your driver opened the door and extended his hand for you. "Remember, pick me up at seven tomorrow morning." You reminded him.

Raphael nodded his head before a tuxedo clad man escorted you to your seat. "Can I get you a drink, ma'am?" He asked you as you settled into your table at the back of the room, away from everyone else.

"Gin martini, chilled glass, lemon twist." You told him without looking up. He quickly scurried away as one of the organizers from the club brought you your auction paddle.

"Good evening, Miss Sapphire." A voice call to you. "Donny." You said as your personal security guard came and took a seat beside you. A black leather breif case tucked under his arm.

"Do you have it?" You asked him as your martini was set down in front of you. "Yes, ma'am." Donny replied. "Good." You said as you took a sip of your drink.

...............

The auction was just as you had predicted. Women and their perfectly manicured nails and men with their expensive cufflinks zealously bidded, all in the name of charity of course.

You bided your time, sipping your martini, waiting for him to come up.

Finally, the emcee announced him. "Ladies and gentlemen, we've saved the best for last, so get your paddles and your checkbooks ready for bachelor lucky number thirteen, or as we like to call him, Rooster!"

A roar of applause went up as he took the stage. And why wouldn't it? Rooster was handsome in his blue suit that he had paired with a red and blue statement dress shirt. The first few buttons were undone, giving the people a peak and the tone, tanned skin underneath. He had a matching blue mask across his eyes, and a pair of Italian leather loafers on his feet. You could see the glint of the Montblanc watch sticking out from under the sleeve of suit, and the thick gold ring he wore on his pinky.

You had to admit, he looked good. Gone was the scrawny half grown kid you remembered your father taking all those years ago. Just be he shipped you off.

He had been replaced by a man, tall, handsome, and brawny with years of heartache behind his eyes.

"Let's start the bidding for a date with the handsome Rooster at twenty-five thousand dollars." The emcee said.

Paddles immediately went up. You signaled for Donny to raise yours. The bidding climbed higher and higher, passing one hundred thousand. "Jump the bid to a quarter of a million." You told Donny. It was a strategy you had learned from your father, jumping the bid normally deterred the competition.

"Are you sure?" Donny asked you. "Yes." You told him.

"Two-hundred fifty thousand." Donny said as he raised your paddled. There was a gasp followed by murrmers from the crowd. The emcee continued with fewer participants. You growled in frustration as the amount climbed higher you continued to bid, having Donny jump it again to half a million. You thought for sure that would win, but a brunette at the front of the room countered your bid.

You were locked in a bidding war with her. It was a battle to see who would give first. Finally, you told Donny, "One million. Bid it. Now."

"Ma'am, I—" Donny stuttered. You shot him a deadly glare. He swallowed before lifting your paddled and loudly proclaiming your bid. The room went silent. "Wow, one million dollars. Do I hear one point one million?" The emcee asked. The brunette shook her head.

"Okay, one million going once, twice. Sold to bidder number six one six." The emcee said as he announced the end of the auction and next steps. You quickly took the brief case from Donny before giving him a hotel key card and a set of instructions to give to Rooster.

You then went to pay your debt. The country club treasurer was quite shocked when you presented her with the million dollars in cash, but was thankful for your "donation." Once your debt was clear, Donny drove you to the Four Seasons. He has an idea of what you had planned, but he knew better than to say anything.

Once there, you made your way in the back entrance and up to your penthouse suite and waited for Rooster.

Room service already had champagne, caviar, and a full bar cart stocked for you.

Thirty minutes after your arrival, Rooster entered the living area of the suite.

"Hello there, Rooster. Can I get you a drink?" You asked him as he made his way into the room. His eyes flitted about, taking in every detail.

"Cognac. If you have it." He said hesitantly. You poured a glass for the both of you before gesturing for him to sit. You stood across from him, watching as he took the drink from you and took a long sip.

You couldn't get a full read on him, but the way his eyes were roaming over your body, you knew you'd be able to seduce him.

You took a seat across from him. Neither of you spoke.

"So— what did you have in mind for the evening?" He asked you. You knew that Bradley was smart enough to know what you had planned.

You didn't answer him. Instead, you stood up and unhooked the top of your dress and pulled the side zipper down. The garment pooled at your feet, revealing the lingerie you had on underneath.

You then sat back down in your chair and kicked your shoes up on the table. The red soles matched your lipstick.

You took another sip of your drink as Rooster sighed and raked his hands through his sandy blonde curls.

"This isn't that kind of date, ma'am." Rooster protested.

You leaned back into the chair and brought the crystal glass of cognac to your lips. He watched you, tentatively as you sipped the rich liquid.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I paid a million dollars for a small slice of your time, sir. That's quite a bit of money. More than you're worth. So, this evening is what I say it is, Mr. Bradshaw." You smirk back at him. You tilt your head to the side as if to dare him to challenge you.

"How do you know my name?" He asks you.

"I'm a very powerful woman, Bradley. I belong to a very powerful family. It's my business to know everyone I associate myself with." You tell him.

He stands up and moves closer to you. You give him a wink.

His feet stay rooted in place as he looks you over. He devoured every inch of the sapphire blue lingerie that you were clad in. You could tell he appreciated the way the bustier hugged your breasts and how he was enticed by the bows tied atop the garters you wore.

"Well, Miss—" He trailed off, still not knowing your name.

"Sapphire. You can call me Sapphire." You filled in the blank for him.

"Well, Sapphire, what exactly did you have in mind?" Bradley asked you with a teasing smirk.

"I want you to take off that Armani suit and show me why they call you Rooster." You replied with no hesitation in your voice.

Bradley chuckled as he reached for his cufflinks. He dropped them, and his watch unceremoniously onto the table before sliding off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. He twisted his pinky ring a few times before giving you a devilish grin.

Your lips curled as you sat up straighter.

He stalked over to you before planting a hand on each arm of your chair. That's when you knew you had him.

Perfect.

Everything was going according to plan.

Taglist: @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @desert-fern @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @lt-spork @multifandomlover4life @beccaanne814 @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @roosterisdaddy36 @itsdesiree86 @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @lillyrosenight @tomanybandstolove @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99

#cherrycola27 #top gun maverick #top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster top gun #tgm #lt. bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster smut #top gun rooster #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #top gun smut #top gun 2 #the darkest little paradise

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mundanemoongirl · 4 months

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WIP Introductions

I’ve been posting about my wips for a while, but I never formally introduced them. So here they are!

Spiritwalker

Genre: YA fantasy, dark fantasy

Tag: spiritwalker wip

Status: Second draft

Triggers: Death, murder, suicide, self-mutilation

Summary

Lady Daron Spiritwalker lives in a world of witches, plague, and war. She is the seemingly perfect heir to her clan and is known across Serenta, the country of witches, for her beauty, intelligence, leadership, and ability to bridge spirits, which only her clan can see and communicate with.

When she is sent to an academy that only the most elite witches attend, she expects a normal education, but instead receives a deadly fortune and discovers secrets within the walls that reshapes the way she sees her world.

Daron is not the type to make friends, but when faced with this problem much bigger than herself, she learns to rely on and even love a group of her schoolmates.

Snippet

Ann Marie, Maya, and I all looked at each other. From their blank faces I could tell that they were just as confused as I was. “What does that mean?” asked Maya. “I presume it means that pressing the hand on the wall opens something. A passageway maybe.” “I already checked the other mosaics and none of them have runes. Who would defile a depiction of our goddess like this?” Ann Marie asked with as much indignation as her soft voice could muster. “There is only one way to find out,” I said, placing my hand atop my goddess’. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Maya asked. “It could be a trap.” “That is why you are here. You know what to do if something happens to me.” I knew how to read the signs. Someone was calling out for a Spiritwalker’s attention, and no matter who it was or how many warnings I received, I was not going to ignore the call. I would be a failure as a primary lady if I did. The icy tiles warmed beneath my skin, letting me know that I was taking too long. I pushed and the section of wall behind the mosaic shuttered, but I still needed more force. I pressed my other hand to the wall and pushed harder, straining the muscles in my back and shoulders. The wall moved inwards this time, rotating like a cog. When it was just a sliver centered between two gaps, I gestured to Maya. “Are you coming?” The younger witch, ever loyal, followed me into the pitch black that awaited us. The smell of mold slapped me in the face, and I had to resist the urge to cover my nose in order to keep my grip on the wall. I stretched my foot as far as it would go, trying to gauge how far the passage went, but only felt emptiness. This vast, dark, unknown space should have frightened me, but instead I was struck with a strange familiarity. I had been here before—in my dreams.

We Faceless Folk

Genre: Mystery

Tag: we faceless folk wip

Status: First draft

Triggers: Racism, kidnapping

Summary

Rachel is a second-year Black college student and loves nothing more than watching movies from her comfy bed and hanging out with her photogrophy-loving girlfriend, Chinwe. But one day Chinwe goes to a concert and never returns. When Rachel gets no answers from the police and is sure they aren’t even looking, she takes to finding Chinwe herself.

Rachel finds clues in Chinwe’s Instagram and even enlists the help of Chinwe’s unhinged ex girlfriend. In her search, she discovers more about Chinwe than she’s ever known, including where Chinwe’s really from.

Snippet

Sometimes when I lay still long enough for my mind to lose control over where my thoughts roam, and the late summer heat blurs the lines between reality and imagination, I swear I can hear her voice. Her lips just shy of my ear, whispering something unintelligible. I turn to hear her better, but of course she’s not there. Chinwe’s been missing for two weeks. The door clicks as my roommate enters the room. We hardly ever talk. I don’t hate her, and I don’t think she hates me, but she lost interest in me pretty quickly after she discovered I’m a homebody. She’s been talking to me more ever since Chinwe disappeared. Not starting actual conversations, but reminding me of things I needed to do. When she walks in and still sees me in bed when I’m usually heading out the door, she asks, “Don’t you have class soon?” I do, but I don’t want to go. I don’t want to sit in that room that feels too large and yet suffocating with Chinwe’s empty seat next to mine. I groan and run my hands over my braids. Just one class and then I can get out of here. I can do that.

#writeblr #spiritwalker wip #we faceless folk wip #wip #wip intro #writers on tumblr #writing #creative writing #fantasy #dark fantasy #fantasy writing #mystery #black writers

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busdriver-55 · 2 years

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Sugar Daddy AU

so this fun little list was very much inspired by the HUGE sugar daddy au list made by @readingreylo - really recommend checking it out! since this AU trope is one of my favourites, and I realized that I knew quite a lot of really great fics that I didn't see on that list, I decided to create this. enjoy... 🥰💜💰👠

Sugar Daddy For Me by StarWarsMomma: Rey has become desperate. She is finishing up her studies and isn't making enough at her day job to make ends meet. She never thought she would sink this low but sometimes a girl has got to do what a girl has got to do to survive.

The Contract by QueenCC78: Work and school are taking a toll on Rey and she's afraid to ask for help, but her friends know just how to help her. Ben loves taking care of people that's why he started his security firm. His friends want to set him up with someone to take care of, but Ben doesn't just want just anybody he wants something permanent.

you and me by @pyro-allerdyce : Ben Solo is the 37-year-old mega-rich heir to two fortunes whose parents and grandparents want him to settle down already. But Benhas no interest in trying to find a wife after all his previous attemptsat relationships ended disastrously and landed him in the tabloids.So he frequents an escort service called Resistance instead, andone night the service sends him Rey. Things will never be the same.

provocateur by dankobah: Rey needs a Sugar Daddy. Ben Organa-Solo has more than enough money for one. What starts as an arrangement grows to something more. (the only one from readingreylo's list - I love it so much, couldn't resist)

Say It by velvetnecessity: Running on fumes, college student Rey Johnson is working multiple jobs to make endsmeet. When she takes a part-time gig as a cocktail waitress at a charity event, she feels Ben Solo's eyes on her from across the rooftop, and her life is completely upended.

Hello, Stranger by kylosbrickhousebody: Rey needs money. Ben Solo has it. She registers on a Sugar Daddy/Sugar Baby website. Ben might just have a profile.

the deepest secret nobody knows by scintillant: College senior Rey resorts to looking for a long-term sugar daddy to support her financially. What happens when the man she meets, Kylo Ren, turns out to be Ben Organa-Solo, one of the richest men in the world, and his definition of “long-term” is marriage?

Honeymoon period by P_Dunton: Abandoned by her parents at the age of 5, Rey has spent her whole life working as a cleaner in a brothel. On her 18th birthday, her virginity will be sold to the highest bidder and her life as a whore will begin. But Kylo Ren has other plans for her. Just who is this mysterious, handsome man and what does he want with Rey?

need a big god (big enough to fill you up) by jedihbic, sapphiresunset, thumosren: Rey has what's probably a very bad idea after looking at all of her bills and finds Kylo on a sugar daddy website. He's tall, dark and his face screams "fucks hard" and frankly she's lost. Kylo wasn't prepared for someone so smart, funny, sweet, and wonderful to enter his life. All at once, they collide. “In simpler words, Ben Solo was filthy fucking rich; an eligible bachelor in every sense of the title.

With Sugar, Pretty Please by vuas: very sweet sugar daddy au (A/B/O)

baby, it will bury us by @therestofyourstory: Ben falls in love with his sugar baby Rey and freaks out. He decides to break up the relationship and pretends he's now bankrupt, assuming she only wants his money. Rey tells him that she's saved enough for two and she'll support him through anything.

Say It With Feeling by @amybeegood: Meet Rey, the Maid/Escort who really needs a solid day job and Ben, the reclusive, virgin billionaire who doesn't have a clue about real life or how to hire household help. The fic in which Ben hires a maid online and gets more than he bargained for when Rey, a single mom who works for a specialty escort service, shows up at his door.

#reylo #fanfic recs #sugar daddy AU #luxury living #billionaire trope #rich life #modern au #ff recs #reylo fic

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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Change of Heart ( Taehyungx OC)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Summary : Times are changing. After years of being oppressed, werewolves are taking a stand against humans , demanding equal rights and fair treatment. Heading the movement is Kim Taehyung, the breathtaking heir to the Kim fortune and one of the few remaining Alpha werewolves in the country. His disdain for the human race is well known and well warranted. They killed his family after all….. He wants to change the world , to put humans in their place but when his five year old daughter takes a shine to their very human neighbor , maybe he has to start with a change of heart , first.

: Pairing : Taehyung x OC / Werewolf AU!!

Genre : Romance, Explicit Content

Chapter 9

“I believe you owe me an explanation....” My father’s voice was soft and steady, his gaze piercing as he stared at me. I could feel my skin thrum with distaste and the urge to take a shower was strong. I wanted to scrub my skin off, Eun Woo’s touch somehow lingering and heavy on me.

“Give me my phone back.” I said instead and my father shook his head.

“No can do. Those men you met? Paranoid bunch. They thought you and Eun Woo might have been recording something and they wanted me to check your phone. i had to reassure them and so, just for good measure, I destroyed it.”

I glared at him.

“I’m still waiting for an explanation. Two weeks ago you couldn’t stand the sight of Eun Woo.... And now here you are, at my Yacht club , claiming you’re dating the man. What are you trying to pull?” My father prompted.

“There’s nothing to say. I just... I lost my job at the preserve and I can’t really look for anything else right now Eun Woo is just helping me out.” I whispered.

My father looked surprised.

“That’s interesting, I see your pride isn’t as strong as it was when I introduced him to you at the preserve.”

I kept quiet.

"Good. I’m not surprised that you’ve come around to be honest. You are your mother’s daughter after all. Gold digger that she was, at least she left you some of her good looks for you to cash in one, yeah? ‘.

My breath caught in my throat, lips wobbling as tears sprung .

“But still.....the fact that you would whore yourself out to a bunch of animals, to keep him? It makes me wonder. What exactly is going on here, that I’m missing” ”

Taehyung , I thought miserably. I wanted him so badly right now that I felt like I would shatter if I didn’t get away from here.

I glared at my father, feeling disgust well up at the mere sight of him.

“I’m not going to do any such thing.... I’m just helping you . Eun Woo told me you’ve been looking to finish the deal and those men wanted to see me at the resort on the seventeenth. You should be thanking me right now. . ” I said defiantly and my father’s eyebrows rose.

And then he chuckled.

“I feel like you’ve bitten off way more than you can chew. But just remember, this is your doing and if things go south, i am not risking my entire reputation to rescue you. ” He said firmly.

“I can take care of myself.” I said shortly. I clenched and unclenched my fingers , trying to ground myself.

It was so amazing, how blind my father could be. He hadn’t suspected Eun Woo at all. Merely chalking him off as a perverted wolf who wanted to make a bit off money at his resort. Eun Woo was smart as well, being obtuse and sounding foolish on purpose, playing into my father’s belief that wolves weren’t intelligent.

. And this would be his downfall, I thought vindictively. The way he continually thought that wolves were foolish. That he was somehow smarter than them....

“I am not sure if I trust you entirely so I’ve asked Eun Woo to keep an eye on you, till the seventeenth. You can stay with him at his apartment. ” My father said thoughtfully

I kept my gaze down.

“At first i considered calling the whole thing off but apparently , Eun Woo’s onto something with the whole beta wolves being into voyeurism. Perhaps that’s a whole new avenue I could look into.... Those men out there....I’ve been showering them with gifts and women for months and this deal wouldn’t come through. But Eun Woo sweeps in, dangles you in front of them and suddenly they want to finish this deal in five days? Apparently, you’re the secret weapon I should have been using all along?”

I glared at him.

He looked thoughtful as he stared at me. And then he nodded, features hardening.

“So be it... You can go fuck that wolf in front of those men and I’ll get my work done. Always knew you weren’t unlike that mother of yours....” He smirked.

I felt my heart clench at that. My mother had been nothing but innocent. I recoiled when he made to stroke my cheek and he laughed again.

“He’ll come pick you up in a couple of hours . Take a shower and fix yourself. ” He gave me one last look before leaving.

The door slammed shut behind him and I sank to the floor. I stared around the room... groaning.

And then my eyes fell on the small pink phone, sticking out of my bag. My dad had taken my phone but not this . It was the pair to the toddler phone that I’d bought Luna so many moons ago. After my fallout with Taehyung I hadn’t used it at all but it had remained at the bottom of my bag. It would only connect to its pair, but no matter.

Grinning, I pulled it out, dialing quickly. If nothing else, at least dear , sweet Luna’s voice would cheer me up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, you’ll make all the arrangements?” Eun Woo watched Taehyung carefully, the Alpha wolf sat behind his desk flanked by two of his closest men, Kim Namjoon and Kim Seokjin. The betas were built like fucking walls , both of them narcs in the force. They stared at him, eyes narrowed in distrust and for the first time Eun Woo felt the first inklings of regret.

Taehyung for his part looked like he believed him. A laptop stood open in front of him, and the wolf had a Bluetooth device in his ear, obviously watching something on the screen. Eun Woo wondered if he had even listened to anything he had said.

“So that’s it? You offered them the resort and they said the deal’s going down.” He asked casually and Eun Woo nodded , realizing that Taehyung had been listening to him after all. .

“On the seventeenth. Yoon Jae hyun’s going to be there.”

“And Mirae...?”

“Well, just as a guest...I did imply we were seeing each other so it would be less suspicious if she were also around.” Eun Woo willed himself to sound normal.

Taehyung didn’t look suspicious but there was no telling with the beautiful alpha, who had mastered the art of keeping a straight face while destroying his enemies. And Eun Woo was well aware that if the alpha found out how he had used the girl, he would definitely be topping that list.

“Very well. I’ll make the necessary arrangements. You can go now. I’ll contact you soon.” Taehyung said shortly , his gaze flitting back to the screen infront of him.

Eun Woo nodded, before standing up on shaky legs, his heart pounding, instincts telling him he was in danger. But he pushed away the thought, grabbing his bag and leaving the office quickly.

Taehyung watched him leave, claws out and digging straight through his desk to stop himself from launching across the room and tearing the wolf’s throat out. He could smell her on him. And his wolf wasn’t happy about it.

“Fucker’s got balls, lying to your face like that.” Namjoon commented mildly, staring at the laptop, where for the past hour or so, Taehyung kept replaying the CCTV footage from the poolside camera on the yacht club.

Taehyung stared at the screen, watching the sheer discomfort and disgust on Mi Rae’s face and he’d never been filled with so much bloodlust in his life. The urged to rip the wolves to shreds, to tear them limb from limb, it simmered in his blood.

The potent rage in his veins stunned him because he’d never felt anything like it before. If he’d had any doubts about whether his wolf had made the right choice, choosing Yoon Mi Rae, it was gone. The sight of those men, ogling what was his and his alone, it made him want to kill.

They had to die. And he had to do it.

Simple as that.

And he would.

He would run them through with his claws and watch the life blood drain out of their frail, fragile bodies.

it took him some effort to compose himself.

“How long has he been running this little racket in his resort?” Taehyung asked casually, feeling inordinately foolish. It was unlike him to be so neglectful over something so incredibly important. How on earth had Cha Eun Woo managed to run something so illicit and horrendous right under his nose?

He blamed himself.

He’d trusted Cha Eun Woo, for one hot minute. Forgotten that the wolf's loyalty lay solely with himself.

Namjoon sighed, placing a file in front of Taehyung. Taehyung flipped through the pictures , stomach turning. Eun Woo had huge sprawling rooms , with beds in the center fitted with restraints and handcuffs. Comfortable arm chairs and couches dotted the rest of the room, men lounging about as they watched the action unfold. Women, drugged and barely conscious, lay on most of them and apparently, alpha wolves indulged themselves with the women.

It was the most disgusting thing he had ever encountered in his life.

And the bastard had actually dared, actually had the fucking thought of dragging his mate into it.

The mere thought of it made Taehyung laugh out loud.

Cha Eun Woo was out of his damn mind.

There really was no other explanation for it. Or maybe he’d been so blinded by his own wealth and power that he’d forgotten that Taehyung was ten times as powerful as him.

Well, whatever the reason, he clearly had a death wish.

And Kim Taehyung was going to grant it to him. With Pleasure.

“It’s new. or we would have caught wind of it before.” Seokjin said apologetically, “ Probably a few months at the most. He mostly uses the men to get tax exemptions or do get ordinances cleared for his resorts or you know, get out of adhering to construction regulation and stuff like that. In return for letting them watch alphas knot human women. ” Seokjin’s face was scrunched in disgust.

“And when I let him meet Yoon Jae hyun and his cronies, he saw an opportunity to expand his clientele and he took it. “ Taehyung hummed thoughtfully.

“Mi Rae’s with her father....” Namjoon said thoughtfully.

“Knowing that son of a bitch, he’ll probably force her to go through with it.” Seokjin shuddered.

“Well, let him bring her there. We’ll get her out. And arrest the whole lot of them.” Namjoon said with a shrug.

Taehyung stared at them for a second.

He had been determined to do this by the book, at first. But watching Cha Eun Woo molest his girl, while a bunch of impotent , old bastards ogled her....well, that really changed his mind about how he wanted to deal with these motherfucking idiots.

“No.” Taehyung said casually.

Namjoon and Seokjin stilled.

“Tae?”

“We’re not arresting any of them.” He said casually. And then he gave Seokjin a slow, calculated smile.

Namjoon’s eyes widened as realization set in.

“Tae-” He began , looking worried but the Alpha merely stared at him.

“I’m going to trust that my two best men are going to make that happen for me?” he drawled, eyes flashing red in a way that said it wasn’t really a request.

Seokjin groaned.

“Fine. But we’ll still have to get an arrest warrant and all that. Don’t want the guy to be hailed as a victim or a martyr after I kill him. that always pisses me off.” He said distastefully and Taehyung hummed.

“I’m going to leave that to your capable hands, gentlemen. “

“We’ll get things ready then. “ Namjoon said casually making to move away and Taehyung nodded, watching the two betas move to the door.

“Good., oh and one more thing....” he called out , making them both turn.

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asked , confused.

“Cha Eun Woo... he’s mine. Bring him to me when you’re done with the others.” Taehyung whispered.

Namjoon grimaced but Seokjin merely grinned. Ironically, although he looked soft and almost feminine in his beauty, Seokjin was the meaner one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung came home to see his daughter giggling uncontrollably on the couch, her phone pressed to her ear and he was confused.

The only one who could call her on that phone was him and-

His eyes widened, realization hitting him hard as he all but pounced on the couch, wrestling the phone out of Luna’s hands before he could think his actions through.

“Rae...” He breathed in disbelief.

“Taehyung?” Her voice came out surprised and relieved and he felt like he was flying. It felt like liquid honey in his ears, the sweet cadence of her tone filling him with sweet blessed relief. He hadn’t even realized how badly he had wanted to hear her voice, to get some confirmation that she was alright.

“Dada dada dada...gimme gimme ...I wanna talk to Rae Rae...!!!” Luna bounced next to him, tugging on his arm and he struggled to keep his balance.

“ How did you call? I’ve been trying to reach you and-”

“Dada!!! Please...i haven’t spoken to her in ages...lemme talk to Rae Rae...!!” Luna’s voice was shrill and unrelenting.

“My dad got my phone.... I’m supposed to be with Eun Woo” He could almost see her rolling her eyes as she said that and he felt fondness bloom inside him at the though.

“Dada!! Lemme talk!” Luna was beginning to climb him now and he flinched when her tiny little claws came out, easily piercing the silk of his shirt and digging into his arms.

“Damn it! Luna will you let me talk to your mother for one damn second?!!!!!” Taehyung shouted, frustration spilling out of him before he could tamp it down.

Luna froze on his arm.

It took him another ten seconds to realize what he just said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart thudded straight up to my throat, my lungs constricting so hard that I almost choked.

I gripped the phone hard, fingers shaking as i tried to process what I’d just heard.

“Shit... Oh shit..” Taehyung swore and I startled.

“Don’t swear in front of her...” I hissed automatically . “ Taehyung what the fuck-”

“You’re swearing now!!” He shouted.

“Can you blame me?” I shouted back, my heart pounding. “ I’m not...what the hell do you mean mother?!!”

“I’m sorry... I don’t know why I said that.. It just slipped out.. i... you’re my mate and ... I know you told me not to call you that but I’m sorry , that’s what you are and she’s my daughter so I guess I just.. “

“We’ll talk about this later. “ I snapped, too tired to deal with his twisted feelings. “You have to get me out of here! The last thing I want to do is spend another minute with Cha Eun Woo. ”

“God, Rae... are you alright? ..”

“I’m fine but can you get me out of here? I wanna get out of here!” I whispered.

“Are you in your dad’s apartment? Is he hurting you?”

I sighed in defeat, knowing exactly what was going to happen.

“Let me guess....you want me to stay with the pervert till you finish saving the world.” I groaned.

“We need him at that resort on seventeenth. This whole thing is beginning to infuriate me and I’m going to end it. For good.” Taehyung’s voice carried a hard edge to it that made me wince.

“Are you gonna be there?” I asked, worried.

“I am.”

I bit my lips.

“Did Eun Woo tell you how he got those men to agree to come there?” I asked hesitantly.

“He didn’t but I know. Don’t worry about, I’ll deal with that....”

“If he didn’t tell you how did you know?” I asked, confused.

Silence.

“ i planted a bug on him. And I had spycams set up around the pool.”

“I didn’t like what he did.” I whispered. “ I don’t... I know its for a reason but the way he touched me I... I didn’t like it...”

Taehyung didn’t respond for a few seconds.

“ Mi Rae , what he did was so far out of line that I can’t even begin to tell you how angry it makes me. But, don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m going to take care of him too. ” He said finally.

I felt myself itch with the need to get away. To reach Taehyung. And Luna..God, listening to her voice after so long....listening to her happy , joyful delight.,..

“I want to see you.” I begged, dignity forgotten. “ I want to see you and Luna.. Taehyung get me out of here!! Please.!!!”

Taehyung groaned.

“Baby, listen to me... just leave with Eun Woo for now , he won’t touch you, I’ll make sure of that.....”

“No you can’t make sure of that!!” i snapped. “ You don’t know how it felt to have his hands on me.... I.... I can’t bear the thought of him near me... Please, please, get me out of here.”

A steady beeping made me jump and I stared at the phone in my hand. A red light blinked steadily on the upper edge made my heart drop. The battery was running out. Of course it was . I hadn’t used this in days.

Tears sprung before I could tamp down on my own misery,

"Tae...Can you hear me?” I choked out. “ Tae... I can’t explain it. I feel weird.... I feel miserable and scared and to be honest, I hate my own skin right now.... Ever since he touched me... I feel like ....”

Another series of beeps and the call ended. My fingers were shaking as i stared at the phone in misery.

This whole thing was spiraling into something scary and unpredictable and for once, the fear refused to ebb.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Taehyung...we can’t...”

“Call him.... We’re moving this thing up to tonight. I’m not waiting a whole four days to rip these bastards to shreds. ” Taehyung roared, clenched fist coming down on the mahogany surface of his table with enough force that Namjoon heard the tell tale sound of wood splintering.

He flinched.

Taehyung was enraged and the beta wolves felt like they were walking on literal eggshells.

Seokjin held a hand up, trying to calm the infuriated wolf.

“Okay... Okay...listen , we can’t just go in guns blazing and just kill some of the most prominent men in the country, Taehyung. That’s not how it works. ”

Taehyung tried to keep his temper in check but it was impossible. God, the way she had sounded on the phone. Cha Eun Woo was lucky he wasn’t in front of him right now... Taehyung was going to tear him limb from limb for this.

“So what, I just hand her over to him for the next five days?” He snarled. That wasn’t going to happen. it would be one thing if she was comfortable with it, but there was no way he was letting Eun Woo within fifty feet of her, not when she sounded so upset.

“This is what happens when you ignore your fucking biology and act like a whole entire idiot. “ Seokjin snaps. “ There’s a reason people spend days locked in after mating!! Your bond is fragile and sensitive. Just because you don’t want to fuck her into the wall anymore , it doesn’t mean your bond is settled. She’s probably feeling just as worse....and she likely has no clue why ...”

Taehyung felt his head throb.

“She’s human...she won’t feel the bond...” He muttered.

Seokjin scoffed.

“Are you serious, Tae? The mating bite connects you to her. You know that right? Yes, its not going to be as potent as it is for us , but human mates can sense the bond. The reason she’s so desperate to see you right now is because you carted her off with another wolf, before the bond could even settle. A wolf who for all intents and purposes sexually assaulted her.”

Taehyung’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d been avoiding that thought , tried to downplay what Eun Woo had done, just for the sake of his own sanity. But Seokjin was right. What Eun Woo had done was just that and Taehyung had literally given him the license to do it.

“I need to see her .” He whispered softly.

“I’ll go get her.” Namjoon replied gently.. Taehyung stared at him, frowning.

“How?” he asked, shortly. His mind felt so foggy, so unlike himself. He was usually the sharpest man in any room, solving problems before they even cropped up, ever missing anything. But right now, he couldn’t think beyond getting her back in his arms.

“With them... I’ll go with them and tell Eun Woo I’m going to bring Mirae here..... Will that be enough? We’re this close to ending this for good, Tae. Don’t ..let your instincts mess this for you...”

Seokjin scoffed.

“Shut the fuck up, the pair of you. Taehyung stop thinking with your dick for a second and consider what we’ve been doing..... This raid has been in the works for three whole years. We’re not going to do something stupid now. Namjoon and i will go see Eun Woo....Give him a taste of what will happen if he touches Rae.... and then we’ll be back here.”

He smiled then, wide and beautiful and even Taehyung felt a cold shiver run up his spine.

Seokjin continued,

“ Five days from now, we’re going in, collecting enough evidence to bring the bastards down and then, to satisfy Taehyung’s bloodthirsty soul, we’ll rip a few throats out too. How’s that sound? ”

it sounded fucking fantastic especially the last bit.

“What if you piss Eun Woo off and he calls off the whole thing...?” Namjoon protested and Seokjin rolled his eyes.

“The mutt’s playing in the big league now. He was the one who offered them the whole show, think they’ll take too kindly to him backing out all of a sudden? Probably won’t..... He’s gonna have to stick with it. If for no other reason than to cover his own ass. ”

“You’re not leaving Rae with him. I want to come with you guys....” Taehyung said firmly.

“Oh, God. No. Absolutely not. I’m not burying Cha Eun Woo’s decapitated body tonight. That’s just not going to happen.” Namjoon held his hands up.

Seokjin grinned.

“As loathe as I am to admit it, Namjoon is right. You don’t have to be there. Don’t worry, we’ll be thorough. Make sure he understands we aren’t playing around. And we’ll think of something with your girlfriend. We can’t bring her to you.... Jae hyung has eyes on you , you know that. We’ll make sure she’s somewhere safe. ”

“You know you can trust us , Tae. We’re going to make sure this fool gets what he deserves.”

Taehyung nodded, skin still thrumming with discomfort. He wasn’t going to feel better until he saw her, but it looked like he had to wait for a while.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stared at the two wolves flanking Eun Woo, each one holding him up by one arm, his knees bent at an odd angle. He looked unconscious .

“Sorry. He wasn’t supposed to pass out but the fucker’s just a huge ass coward. Didn’t even last five minutes.”

“Five minutes of what?” I whispered, staring in mild horror at the blood dripping steadily from the man’s temple.

“Five minutes of us demonstrating what happens to people who covet things that don’t belong to them.” Seokjin smiled brightly.

“Jungkook’s on the way here.... You know him right? Taehyung told me he’s a friend of yours. He’s going to let you crash with him for a couple of days That okay? “

I stared between the two of them.

“Are you sure? My father....”

“Oh your father won’t know, sweetheart, don’t worry about that. You know the original plan was for us to just warn this fool and he would come to his senses . But he chose to be an idiot and mouthed off about fucking anyone he wants to fuck.... So, Joon and I are going to keep him away from you. We owe Taehyung that much.” The wolf had a breathtaking face, impossible to look away from.

“Can’t I go to Taehyung?” I said stupidly and they exchanged looks.

“No wonder he’s whipped. She’s gorgeous.” Namjoon muttered under his breath.

Seokjin elbowed him sharply.

“Uh.. no. That’s going to be difficult because ....well, for starters its going to be pretty suspicious if you randomly show up at the Official residence of a Minister.”

I flushed.

“He’s not staying at his condo?” I asked hesitant.

Seokjin shook his head.

“He’s taking office in a few days, Yoon Mi Rae, ssi. He’s under the limelight right now. Which is why we think it would be safer for you to stay elsewhere. Your father is probably watching him closely.”

I closed my eyes, feeling jittery. I startled when arms wrapped around me, warm and firm.

“hey..... you alright?” The taller, dimpled wolf gave me a concerned glance and i realized I’d swayed a little.

“I’m sorry... I’m fine.. I’m just...”

“It’s the bond.” Seokjin said gently and I stared at him.

“Bond?” I muttered, confused.

“He claimed you. It sounds archaic but you do belong to him. Your body recognizes that even if your heart or mind doesn’t. “ He sounded almost apologetic.

I groaned.

“So I’m going to feel this way...”

“Anytime someone else gets close to you, yes.”

I remembered how averse I had been to Jungkook touching me in the tub, that morning after.

“So this isn’t real? I want to be with him but it isn’t real...and I can’t be with anyone else either -”

“Hey...Hey...listen. That’s not what I’m saying. Just the fact that the bond formed is proof that you guys have something special. If you weren’t into each other his wolf would have rejected the bond at once. But I’m just saying, for a few days, maybe indulge your baser instincts and stick to him, yeah? Once the bond settles , you can make better decisions without being physically affected by them.” Seokjin said gently.

I sighed peering over at Eun Woo.

“What are you going to do with him?”

Seokjin hesitated.

“Take him to our place probably. Can’t risk him running around wrecking havoc. Don’t worry about it. Five days max. This whole thing will blow over and you won’t have to see him again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You okay?” Jungkook placed a pair of towels at the foot of the bed, looking concerned as he stared at me. I sat on the bed, knees drawn up and arms folded over them staring at him.

“I’m so screwed.” I whispered.

Jungkook smiled.

“It always feels that way.... at first. Don’t worry, you guys will work this out.”

“I’m scared. My father ...he... he’s always been a bastard but... I never saw him as someone dangerous. But I think he is. I’m scared he’s going to hurt Taehyung.” I said softly, finally voicing what I’d been worried about all along.

Jungkook gave me a sharp look.

“That’s not going to be easy. Hyung can take care of himself. I’m an alpha myself and you won’t see me going against him. Everyone knows he’s not someone you should underestimate. “

“But I’m still worried..... I... I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“I’m glad you don’t want me dead anymore.”

Taehyung’s voice sent a jolt of electric current straight up my spine. I scrambled, turning around to the window in shock.

The alpha sat perched on the window sill, looking entirely unbothered for someone dangling a good fifty feet off the ground.

“Hyung , what? Get in here!!!” Jungkook hissed, reaching for him, but he was already throwing his legs over and dropping to the carpeted floor with ease.

“Don’t trust you enough to leave her with you for the night, Jungkook-ah...” He said casually, but his eyes danced with mirth.

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“She smells like you now hyung.... I’m not going there ..”

Taehyung gave me a surprised look.

“She does?”

“The bond’s settling then.” Jungkook said. “ This is my cue to leave. Where’s your security detail hyung? Tell me I’m not going to get shot in my sleep for kidnapping the Minister for Supernatural affairs.”

Taehyung chuckled.

“They know where I am... I’m only here for the night. I have stuff to do in the morning.” He turned to me holding his arms out, “ You okay?”

I threw myself at him without a second thought.

It felt like gears slotting together perfectly, his arm around me calming the simmering discomfort under my skin so quickly that I went limp.

I closed my eyes, gripping his tight, letting my eyes fall shut as I inhaled the musky , woody scent of him. I heard the door close softly behind Jungkook and Taehyung ran his palms up and down my back.

“I may possibly be the worst mate in history.” He commented mildly.

I snorted.

“There’s no competition there. You win, hands down.” I muttered. He pulled back to stare at me, hands coming up to gently cup my face.

“I’m going to kill him.” He said softly and I frowned.

“I thought he was only doing what you asked him to.” I said , frowning.

Taehyung gave me a sharp glance. His hands slipped to my wrists, tugging me to the bed. I settled on the mattress and he took his shoes off carefully.

“God, no. Do you really think I’d do something like that?” He gave me a wounded look and i bit my lips.

“How would i know? All you told me was that you needed Cha Eun Woo to help you”

Taehyung hesitated.

“He’s been running a brothel in that resort. A brothel were old or impotent wolves can watch alphas knot human women..... Its been going on for a while. i never knew. He’s been hiding it really well.”

I felt my jaw come unhinged.

Suddenly, the way he had talked about how I would look, having sex with an alpha wolf, the way he had described it to those men, it made sense.

“He told them ... he made it seem like I was one of those women.” Bile rose up in my throat.

Taehyung reached out, fingers lightly gripping my waist and tugging me closer.

I hesitated, not sure what he wanted but he scooted back to lean on the headboard, long legs stretched out in front of him and he held his hand out again.

“Come here.” He whispered gently. “ i can think better if you’re in front of me”

Seokjin’s words echoed in my head , maybe indulge your baser instincts and stick to him, yeah? Once the bond settles , you can make better decisions.

I crawled over on my knees.

Taehyung reached out , gripped my waist with both hands and lifted me straight up into his lap like I weighed nothing. i yelped, knees hitting the mattress on either side of his waist as I tried to spread my thighs wide enough to accommodate him .

He kept his hands on my waist, grabbing the hem of my blouse and tugging it out of my skirt. He slipped his fingers in till he grazed my bare skin, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against the heated flesh.

“Feel good?” He whispered softly.

I tilted my head, regarding him thoughtfully.

“When have you ever made me feel anything but good, Alpha Kim?” I smirked, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

The fingers on my waist tightened, hard enough to bruise and I choked , gripping his shoulders , feeling the hard jut of his shoulder blades beneath my fingers.

“Behave.” He warned softly, “ I’m trying to start this right.”

I sighed.

“Start what?”

“This.. You and I. Together. As more than just friends.”

I straightened, surprised.

“Taehyung-”

“I came here tonight, not because I had to...not because I needed to... but because I wanted to. I want you to know that. I’m here not by obligation but because I wanted to see you. Because I care for you.” He stared right at me but i couldn’t help but be wary.

I looked away.

“That's not what you said the last time we met which was literally this morning...” i protested.

“ Rae, I was so fucking scared. I’ve been living inside my own head for too damn long. I’ve always had these....fucking rules inside me. Rules that i couldn’t bring myself to break. I don’t break the law, I don’t get involved with humans, I don’t trust humans, I always do stuff by the book..... But today, just...seeing what happened at that pool...... I realized I’ve been so fucking blind. ”

I swallowed.

“That’s not your fault...”

“It is... “ He said shortly. “ I’ve been so caught up with keeping my own rules, with fighting humans that I forgot that not all wolves are saints either. I’ve been so focused on your father because he’s human that I didn’t even consider that the men actually funding and dueling this entire drug racket...they’re wolves like me. That it isn’t humans who exploit us but men in power. Men in power who twist the law and use it as leeway to do whatever shit they want. “

“You couldn’t have known.” I said weakly.

“I could have. If I’d wanted to. Two months ago Cha Eun Woo built a beach side resort in Jeju Do, very close to some endangered coral reefs I remember reading about it and wondering how he could have possibly gotten a permit to do that shit. But then i never followed through with it. And I wonder if it was because I considered him a friend. A friend whose favor I would need in the future. And what does it say about me, if my moral values are so selective? I can’t act high and mighty about bringing your father down while I’ve been letting Cha Eun Woo run a fucking sex trade right under my nose.”

I pressed a palm to his face, my heart breaking at the sheer exhaustion on his face.

“You can’t fix the entire world, Taehyung. You’re not meant to single handedly solve every problem in the country...... “ I whispered.

He shuddered.

“But if i don’t , who will?” He stared at me. “ Someone has to make an effort right?”

I nodded.

“Yes... You’re right. And you’ve done enough. You’ve done more than your fair share. And you can do so much more, if you let yourself relax. If you let yourself breathe when you’re drowning you can swim so much further.”

He stared at me.

“My daughter.” He choked out. “ She really thinks you’re her mother. “

I bit my lips in distress.

“Tae, I’m so sorry-”

“ Her mother died when she was barely three....So she doesn’t remember her much. She only remembers her scent which was yours.... She... She really wants you with us, Rae.”

“You shouldn’t have said that on the phone. What were you thinking calling me her mother...” I whispered, shaking my head.

“ I think I saw you as Luna’s mother. the moment you held her that day, in the dock , in the rain. The way she relaxed in your arms...The way her face lights up at the thought of you... I... I want that for her. I want her to have that...forever.”

I let myself look at him.

“And what about you? What do you want? “

He held my gaze for a long time. I felt my heart begin to pound, anticipation clawing up my spine.

“a bowl of patbingsu would feel great.” He said seriously.

It took me a second to realize what he’d just said. I punched his shoulders, not in the mood for jokes at all.

“Sorry sorry...that was bad timing.” He grinned.

“The worst. Are you asking me out or not?” I demanded.

"I am asking you to move in.” He said softly. “ As my mate.”

I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

“It may seems too much , especially for a human but I’m a were and I want you in my house. Want your scent there, mingling with mine and I want my daughter to see us together. I want you to be...the woman I love.”

“Don’t throw the L word around like that . It scares me..” I muttered and he smiled.

“I’m not a teenager Rae. The L word as you call it, it doesn’t scare me. I have a daughter, I know love in its purest form. And I’m not afraid of saying it either.”

“Well, I’m just not sure if you even mean it.” I said desperately.

“I do mean it. I love you and I know that because I broke every rule I’ve been keeping for the past twenty years , just because of a five minute video clip of another guy touching you .”

I shook my head.

I felt overwhelmed.

Somewhere beneath that chaos, I was happy, of course I was. But for now, the exhaustion and weariness won out, and I edged closer, resting my head on his shoulders.

He hugged me closer and i felt the gentle press of his lips against the top of my head.

“Let’s sleep.” I whispered. “ I’m so tired.”

He hummed.

“Would you like me to leave?”

I shook my head.

“No. Stay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I woke up sometime in the middle of the night, to find myself on my side his arms wrapped right around me, tight and firm. I wondered how numb his arm must be, and wriggled a bit, swallowing the dryness in my throat.

He grunted and gripped my waist, stopping me from moving.

“You need to stop grinding on my dick, darling.” He choked out. I froze, face flaming.

“Sorry... I...”

“It’s alright. What’s wrong?” He whispered, fingers brushing my hair back.

I stared at the wall in front of me, lightly stroking the arm wrapped around my waist.

“I feel better when I’m with you.” I whispered. “ Even when i barely saw you, those months in your home in the preserve...I always felt better when you were around. It was irrational, how much I liked you and wanted to be with you, seeing as I didn’t know much about you at all... And It makes me wonder, if perhaps you and I, perhaps we aren’t that different.” I said.

He hummed.

“How so?”

“Maybe wolves aren’t the only ones who can sense their mates . Maybe humans can too....maybe we sense it but we’re just too scared to act on it.”

“Why should you be scared...?”

“Because sometimes, even your mate rejects you and that stings.” I smiled. His grip tightened around me.

“I will spend the rest of my life atoning for what I put you through...” He kissed my neck and I trembled.

“It wasn’t a sin.” I said laughing at how serious he sounded. “ It was you being true to yourself . i appreciate that.”

“But I hurt you. I hurt my mate. As a wolf that is unforgivable.”

“Well , then you’re lucky that I’m not a wolf, aren’t you? Because I’ve already forgiven you.”

He tugged me around gently till I was on my back, before climbing on top of me.

“Can I kiss you?” He brushed the hair off my face.

“I don’t know. Can you?” I grinned at him.

He growled.

“brat.”

He pressed his lips against mine, a soft and gentle touch that lasted for just a few seconds before he drew back.

And then he leaned in again, this time , lips parting, soft and wet as it closed over mine, tongue sweeping across the seam of my lips, begging entrance. I relaxed into the pillows , letting him take the lead.

Taehyung kissed like he did everything else, firm and hard but somehow careful and gentle.

The soft press of his fingers on my chin as he tilted my face for better access, the way his tongue licked into my mouth in soft kittenish licks, the way his teeth nibbled on the plushness of my lip, only for his tongue to lick and sooth the sting right after....

His kisses tasted like scotch and honey, like spring water in the middle of summer , cool and refreshing nd reaching so far inside me that I ached for it. He was strong and warm against me, his hair felt like spun silk beneath my fingers . i traced the contours of his face , the sharp edge of his jawline, the softness of his perfect brows and the sharpness of his collarbones.

My mind was reeling by the time he pulled away.

“Can I fuck you ?” He asked softly and I jolted at the filthy words in that deep earnest tone.

“I don’t know Can yo-?”

He didn’t let me finish. Groaning as he sat up, gripping the hem of his t shirt and peeling it off. I watched as he shimmied out of jungkook’s sweatpants ,before straddling me again.

“Take that t shirt off for me.” He smiled and I quickly shrugged it off.

“Mmm.... beautiful. I love your breasts....such pretty pink nipples.” He said casually and i choked a bit when he reached down, thumbing at the hard nubs till they pebbled up under his touch.

I threw my head back as he bent over, peppering kisses all over my jaw before moving down to lick my nipple, lips closing over the nub for one second before nipping at them with his teeth. I felt the hardness of his erection against the softness of my stomach as he grabbed my panties, tugging them off me.

“I like it rough.” I whispered into his ear and he growled, reaching forward and grabbed the hair at the back of my head, yanking me away from his face.

“Then let me fuck your face.” He said casually, scooting forward and pressing his cock right up against my lips. I took the hard length of him into my mouth. He tasted tangy and familiar , from the texture of his skin like silk on steel , to the way slight saltiness of his precum on my tongue. I loved the way his fingers gripped my hair, just a little too tight for comfort and a little short of violent.

I moaned in disappointment when he pulled out a little, but only to place himself properly , one hand gripping the head board for support. Bracing himself against the headboard, Taehyung threaded one hand through my hair, gripping carefully till heat seeped through my entire body at the sting of it, and then he began thrusting into my mouth gently, pushing past my teeth and deeper into my mouth. I inhaled each time he pulled out, trying to tamp down my gag reflex, as i took the entire hot, wet length of him inside my mouth.

He picked up the pace, letting go of the head board in favor of gripping my hair in both hands, holding me in place as he fucked into my mouth till my eyes watered.

I felt myself dripping wet with arousal and I tapped his thighs. He pulled back to stare at me.

“You alright?”

“Fuck me.” I choked out, throat fucked raw and voice breaking. “Need you inside me now-”

He didn’t wait for me to elaborate, grabbing my waist and turning me over at once.

“Hands and knees., grab the headboard.” He growled and I scampered to obey.

“Good girl, Now just hold on let me make you feel good, yeah, baby?”

I felt a soft, wet kiss right on my spine, before fingers gripped my hair again , tugging me back just as he slid right into me.

The shock of it made me stop breathing, his cock so thick and hard it felt like I’d been split open.

“How does that feel baby? ...” He whispered, bending over and kissing my neck. “ Am i making you feel good” I fought to get words out and then groaned when he slid back in , a little rougher and a little faster.

He stopped again, pulling out and hitting my thigh, the sharp sting making me yelp.

“Roll over, sweetheart.” He whispered and I blinked groggily, rolling over to stare at him. He grabbed a spare pillow, folding it in half before pushing it under my hips.

i blinked in confusion as he loomed over me again, this time grabbing my leg and throwing it over his shoulder. before pushing back in. deeper this time, the tip of his cock hitting so deep that I felt a sting of pain that made me wince.

He caught the look on my face and smiled, apologetic.

“Sometimes, too big isn’t too good. You’re a little small for me, I’m hitting your cervix. Let me fix that.” He fixed the pillow again and this time when he pushed in , it was pure pleasure, his cock brushing my g spot with ease and making me clench around him like a vice. He moved to his knees, still inside me and I groaned in protest when his weight lifted off me.

“Wanna see you cum, angel..” He whispered, using his thumb to press and slide over my clit in smooth, little strokes . I could feel my wetness leaking all over the place and I felt my throat go dry when he scooped up the dampness, before tracing the slick wetness all over my nipples and bending low and licking it all off.

“Taste so sweet, my baby...” He whispered, “ Wanna try?”

I barely registered what he said, eyes fluttering shut and I yelped when he lightly flicked my lips.

“Open your mouth..you should taste how good you are...” He grinned wickedly.

Before i could reply he was already slipping two fingers between my legs, collecting more of the heady slickness. I moaned as he slipped the fingers into my mouth, smearing it all over my tongue , the spicy sweetness foreign and yet arousing against my tongue. I felt my eyes widen as the taste filled my tongue, making me clench harder around him.

“Tell me you taste good...” He pulled back and rammed again inside me , is fingers moving back to my hair and gripping tight.

“I.. i taste good..” I stuttered.

He grinned in appreciation and held my hips, swiftly flipping us over till I was on top, his cock slipping out of me because of how wet and messy i was. I struggled to pace myself and yelped when he casually grabbed my hips, lifting me up and bringing me down till I took the entire hard length of him inside.

“Wait...stop.” He said suddenly and I froze. And then he was sitting up and turning me around making me kneel, facing away from him and i finally noticed the large dresser mirror, right across from the bed.

I met his gaze through the reflection, swallowing.

“When I watched you put on make up today, the way you stared at me through the mirror and put me in my place.... I was thinking I should do this.... .stare at you through a mirror someday and put you in your place. Didn’t think it would be so soon, baby.”

I panted as he moved behind me, using his hands to lightly part my thighs. And the he was pushing closer, sliding into me and I gasped, gripping him tighter as he used one hand to fondle my breast while the other wrapped tight around my hip, bracing me for his thrusts.

It lasted less than two minutes. I came unraveled, my mind exploding in glorious white hot pleasure and his warmth washed inside me, filling me and dripping down my thighs till i fell back against him, boneless and spent .I fell forward on to mattress, my limb jelly and he groaned, draping himself over me.

“Hope that was sufficiently rough and filthy for you, my dear.” He whispered.

I could barely think, let alone string words together so i stayed quiet, letting him pull me closer and hold me tight.

i shifted as he moved to settle his head on my breasts, his arms and legs draping over me while his breath fanned hot and cold against my sweat slicked skin.

His phone buzzed right next my head and he frowned.

And then he laughed, turning to show me the screen

From Jeon Jungkook :

I’m in the next room hyung!! Fucking stop. !!!

I grinned despite myself.

Good Lord.

~~~~~~~~~

Author’s note :

Ummm...hi?

Guess this isn’t ending in ten chapters fml.

@veronawrites

@ladyartemesia

@bumb1e–bee

Some of you sent me an ask to be tagged but i couldn’t tag you guys...probably because you’ve made your profile private.... So I’m sorry about that.

#taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #taehyung werewolf au #bts werewolf au #bts smut #bts au #bts fanfic #bts smut fic #bts fics #bts taehyung #taehyung fics

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apiratewhopines · 3 years

Text

Killian, Persuaded

Chapter One — Don’t Panic

Summary: In which our hero panics

Read on AO3

“All of us are done for”

-Don’t Panic, Coldplay

It was no secret Killian Jones lived a charmed life. How could it be when his handsome face was plastered across glossy magazines covers and splashy websites on a daily basis? Dark hair carefully tousled to look as if he woke up that way. An athletic figure always encased in the latest fashion and, more often than not, topped off with black leather. A smile said to cause an increase in heart rate for those lucky enough to experience it firsthand. And perhaps the most defining feature, one gossip columnists and celebrity photographers waxed lyrical about, impossibly blue eyes that could charm or chill in equal measure depending on his mood.

He inherited his father’s roguish good looks and, fortunately for the world, his mother’s better nature.

As he rolled out of bed early one fall morning, it was with the deep sense of well-being one could only achieve from a pampered existence, free of the stress and worries normal people carried like millstones around their necks. He walked through a hallway laid with Italian marble liberated from a Renaissance era villa to a bathroom featured in Architectural Digest as the most luxurious in the world, causing an Arabian prince and a Russian oligarch to accuse him of sleeping with the journalist who produced the piece.

He had, of course. But that didn’t mean the title wasn’t deserved.

He stepped into an enormous shower that provided an expansive view of skyscrapers and the ocean beyond through the one-way windows forming the walls of the room. It was one he was so familiar with he didn’t even notice it anymore. As he washed off the lingering scents of the night before—stale cigarettes, spilled booze, and expensive French perfume—he rolled his shoulders under the perfectly calibrated water pressure of his rainwater showerhead and let the massaging jets work their magic, precisely hitting all the important hydrotherapy points as they had been designed to do.

Stepping out, he wrapped himself in towels of the softest Egyptian cotton embroidered with the Jones family crest. As his father always said, just because they were in the colonies, it didn’t mean they had to forget where they came from. Never mind that the colonies hadn’t been colonies in well over two hundred years. His family had always preferred to live in the past.

Killian’s father was also keen on never forgetting who they were. As if such a thing would even be possible when all articles about them started with a brief reminder their roots could be traced back as far as the monarchy and noted they were in possession of a bank account rivaling the tech giant nouveau riche of the vast city quite literally laid at his feet every morning.

Although, it should be noted his father would never be so tasteless as to discuss money. Comparing bank accounts was the province of those who didn’t have enough. No, the elder, esteemed Mr. Jones preferred to simply let his massive wealth speak for itself, silently scorning those who had less while appearing to think nothing of it. And why should he? It’s not like he had done anything to earn it other than being born into the family.

Generation after generation passed down entitlement and piercing blue eyes like they had patents on them. His father offset his lack of the most noted Jones feature by putting his blue blood on full display whenever possible. Some might even accuse the head of the family of overcompensating.

The truth of the matter was, Killian was the product of a long line of smug snobs so it was amazing he had turned out as well as he did.

Or perhaps not so amazing when you considered his mother had been a stranger to this world of glittering privilege. That’s not to say she was completely without resources. In the real world, she would have even been considered wealthy in her own right. But in the Jones sphere of reality, the general view was his father married so far down the ladder, he was practically romancing pond scum instead of a clever, beautiful soul who devoted her life to helping others and raising her two sons.

Killian realized at an early age it was, in fact, his mother who could have done better.

His parents had been an odd couple that never stood a chance. While no one would ever know for sure, because the only thing worse than talking about money was talking about your feelings, the general consensus was when his father saw his mother exiting the courthouse one day it was love at first sight. She was leaving her latest case as a Human Rights lawyer and he was coming from being the defendant in a string of slumlord lawsuits.

His father had always appreciated a pretty face, a trait he definitely passed down to his youngest son, and his mother could never resist the chance to save someone. Even if it meant losing herself along the way. Even, and perhaps especially, if the person didn’t want to be saved.

Doomed from the beginning.

Shaking off the odd sense of melancholy that threatened, he threw his towel into the corner and walked unashamedly into a closet so large it could easily house a family of four with room to spare. It was a grand space, two stories softly lit by Baccarat chandeliers and filled floor to ceiling with custom clothes tailored to his exact, and enviable, measurements.

Another longstanding family expectation was to always look your best. Nature had been kind to the Jones clan but it never hurt to play up what you were blessed with. Clothiers practically threw garments his way knowing they would reap the benefits of a timely paparazzi snap. The three piece suit he wore when he proposed to his fiancée sold out within seconds after the picture went viral and the designer currently had a two year waitlist for his creations.

The pressure of being a trendsetter never bothered him. Honestly he couldn’t care less what people thought of him. Being universally adored did wonders for your confidence.

The same could not be said for his estranged older brother. While Killian received the lion’s share of swagger, Liam had inherited their mother’s self-righteous streak with none of her sweetness to temper it. He was a chore to be around at the best of times so it was no surprise barely a year after the death of their mother, and only a few months after his graduation from university, Liam proceeded to thumb his nose at centuries of Jones tradition by defying their father and enlisting in the Navy thereby renouncing any claim to the family fortune.

He hadn’t even had the decency to join Her Majesty’s Naval Service. In a complete break with the family, he visited the nearest strip mall and was recruited by some of Uncle Sam’s finest.

From that day forward, their father insisted he had only one son. Liam was painted out of family portraits, his name stricken from the family tree, his signature removed from the vast network of accounts and properties. Killian still remembered the last time he saw him, laughing as he waved from the backseat of a cab, looking as if the weight of the world had been taken off his shoulders.

It was the only time he’d ever been jealous of his brother.

Now, more than fifteen years later, he often wondered where Liam had landed. If he was still laughing or if the harshness of a world without means, without the Jones family name to soften any and all blows, had crept up on him. The abandoned boy, the one who had watched from a spotless mansion window as his best friend and hero walked away without a second glance, hoped so. But it was a mean, half-hearted wish. Hidden beneath layers of hurt, the reality was he would never want any harm to come to his brother.

Deep down, he wished he had followed him out the door.

Selecting a black suit and contrasting tie at random, he started getting dressed. Normally, his valet would be on hand to smooth wrinkles and polish off his look. However, the man had taken a long overdue vacation to tend to his ailing mother. Killian wasn’t so far removed from the real world he couldn’t dress himself for a few days but the sense of being out of sync wouldn’t dissipate.

He couldn’t account for the feeling. Admittedly, this time of year was harder than most. It never failed that autumn brought falling leaves and personal loss. First his mother, then his brother. To complete the trifecta, a vision of a blonde with a guarded smile filled his mind, green eyes flashing and chin tilted up in challenge.

With a ruthlessness that was completely unnecessary, he tugged his tie in place and risked a glance in the mirror for the first time that morning. Or maybe it had been months. Carefully cultivated nonchalance stared back at him. He wondered when he had lost the fire in his eyes and how long it would be before he gave a damn about something again.

Perhaps it was easier this way.

And perhaps if he kept taking the easy way, the next time he saw his reflection he wouldn’t recognize himself at all.

—

It was with some surprise he found he had thirteen missed calls when he bothered to check his phone. While his social media accounts were heavily trafficked, there were few who had his number and even fewer who actually used it in this day and age. The fact all the calls originated from a single source—his best friend of sorts—made it even more shocking.

There was a time when it would have been rare for Robin Locksley, heir to an ancient title and completely bankrupt estate, to be awake before noon. What was the point really when all you had to look forward to was crippling debt? That all changed when he settled down and started a family only to lose his wife less than two years later.

Normally he would have given into his curiosity and returned the calls but for once, he had someplace to be. The family’s legal and financial advisors recently called an emergency meeting and requested his presence in addition to his father, who normally handled these types of things. It was an unusual move to say the least but his father assured him it was because they wanted to talk him out of a risky investment. Misguidedly, they thought his son might get him to see the sense of their arguments.

Killian could have told them not to bother. His father no more listened to him than he did anyone else. Still, it was nice to feel wanted for something other than a free ride so he cleared his non-existent schedule and took one of the family’s fleet of limos to the tastefully understated brick mansion serving as a headquarters for their business ventures.

He could count on one hand the number of times he had bothered to visit. Honestly it seemed like everything ran a lot smoother if he didn’t get too involved. This laissez-faire type of leadership was the only way men of his class ran things. Anything more would be a disgrace to the honorable name of Jones. Or at least that was what his father said. Since he didn’t have any real interest in the day-to-day runnings of their portfolio and numerous acquisitions, it worked out well for everyone. The fancy business degree currently gathering dust somewhere in his penthouse could have been wallpaper for all the use it got.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized his time would be better spent at the yacht club or with his eminently suitable fiancée. She had been inexplicably absent the prior night and hadn’t returned the texts he sent to check on her. He was sure she would breeze into his arms at some point today with a perfectly absurd excuse and be delightfully motivated to make it up to him. The faint wave of nausea presenting itself at the thought was immediately dismissed as the result of too much caffeine.

He mounted the steps with a level of trepidation he normally reserved for babies and churches. The hard facade suddenly seemed imposing and it occurred to him the only vehicle in the cobblestone driveway was the one he arrived in. He would be joining the meeting as it started so the absence of his father’s preferred antique Rolls Royce was disturbing to say the least. Mr. Jones prided himself on his punctuality. Truly, it was his only redeeming virtue.

Shrugging inelegantly out of his overcoat, he knew he wasn’t imagining the brief look the staff exchanged when he crossed the threshold. Tension, an infrequent visitor in his cosseted life, formed in his shoulders, muscles bunching under the clean lines of his suit. He made his way unaided to the second floor, pausing on the landing when he heard the emotionless drone of some random news anchor echo down the hallway. It wasn’t until he heard his name fill the space his feet started moving of their own accord. He reached the boardroom at the tail end of the story but it was enough to get the gist of it.

There on the television, the ribbon running the details even as the reporter gleefully narrated it for an rapt audience, was a picture of his father. Time had been kind to the senior Jones, his hair still dark and falling in wavy perfection around his handsome face. Dimples winked charmingly as dark eyes twinkled with a sense of mischief that was totally an illusion. He was a hard man who had petrified after the death of his misunderstood, but nonetheless cherished, wife.

‘Anonymous sources reveal Brennan Jones, widely considered one of the richest men in the state, fled from authorities last night...’

Tearing his eyes away from the screen, he noted everyone was focused on his reaction, or lack thereof. Those brave enough to face him head on would notice the twitch of muscle in his cheek, a nervous tell the people closest to him knew was a sign of deep emotion. He felt like he stood there for days before someone stepped forward. It evidently fell to Marco, a friend of the family who had the distinction of being the only advisor hired by his mother, to be the messenger. “Killian, I’m so very sorry.”

Not sure what this man had to apologize about, he asked with a bemused grin, “Whatever for?”

Shuffling nervously, Marco stared at him again. Looking around the room at the shell shocked faces, he didn’t resist when the older man took him by the arm and led him back into the hallway. “I guess you haven’t heard. Of course, we had no idea it would come to this. I wish I could give you happier news.”

Mind uncomprehending of the scope of tragedy waiting for him, he said, “I would settle for any explanation at this point. Why was my father on television this morning?”

“Oh Killian, my boy, you probably should sit down...”

“I prefer to stand,” he murmured, internally bracing himself. Marco had always been one of the least annoying of the host of advisors employed by his family. The unassuming man had the kind of face that made you think of grandparents and unconditional love, or at least that’s what Killian thought when he was a child. Now he knew while grandparents were real enough, unconditional love was a fairy tale.

“Your father raided the meager funds left in the family coffers and left the country to avoid prosecution for wire fraud and tax evasion.”

“Meager funds,” he repeated, feeling lightheaded. “I’m not sure I understand. The last time I was at one of these little get-togethers, we had over half a billion dollars in assets.”

“That was many years ago, my boy. Your father made some poor investments and he never was the best at curbing his lifestyle to fit his income.”

Swallowing thickly, Killian ran his hand through his hair and forced himself to remain calm. If what Marco said was true, poor investments was the understatement of the century. In a pale imitation of a joke he offered, “So what? We’ll have to sell some property and maybe a couple of the yachts? Start sharing a helicopter with another family?”

“Unfortunately, the situation is more dire than that. Most of the property is already gone. The only yacht left is the one he stored in Maldives, probably in anticipation of his getaway.” With a kindly hand on his shoulder, Marco gave him an apologetic look. “I’m afraid it gets worse.”

In disbelief, Killian shook his hand away and propped himself against the wall. It was an artful pose that didn’t hint at the real reason he was leaning, namely he needed the hard surface to keep from sinking to his knees. “How could it possibly get worse?”

“The family money wasn’t the only thing he took. Your fiancée went with him.”

—

Killian was surprised to learn the hardest part wasn’t listening to the substantial inventory of assets already lost. It wasn’t seeing the short—far too short—list of property still in play that would be offered in a fire sale to end all fire sales. It wasn’t the fact people he thought of as friends were already circling like sharks, ready to take a piece of the family prestige home with them at a fraction of the cost.

It wasn’t the media demanding answers to prying questions every time he left his building. It wasn’t the news cycle replaying the details of his embarrassment over and over again on an endless loop. It wasn’t that somehow his name had become a punchline overnight, cannon fodder for late night talkshow hosts and comedians.

It wasn’t watching his family home, the last tangible thing connecting him to his mother, being emptied out. Observing the gentle landscape surrounding it being surveyed in an attempt to siphon off parcels from the main section to try to bring in more money at auction was surreal but unavoidable considering the circumstances.

It wasn’t the hushed conversations that followed him, fracturing into silence as soon as he was within earshot. Nor was it the pitying glances the staff gave him when he had to dismiss them with excellent references but a fraction of the severance they deserved.

It wasn’t crawling into an empty bed and pulling cold sheets over his head every night. It certainly wasn’t missing his fiancée, a woman he had committed to but, in hindsight, hadn’t liked all that much. If he was being completely honest, her leaving was the only silver lining in this particular rainstorm. Although her manner of leaving left much to be desired.

It wasn’t even the sudden lack of everything. His whole life he had been comforted by possessions he used as a replacement for love. Every article of clothing a substitute for the affection he never received, every priceless piece of art a proxy for family photos never taken much less displayed, every impressive technological gadget a surrogate for the support sorely missing from his life. His six car garage was now empty, a willing sacrifice in order to compensate the slate of advisors needed to carve up what was left of his life and repay the debts of his father.

Now that the clutter was gone, he actually felt a certain freedom in the emptiness.

No, the worst part was the silence. The feeling of being utterly and completely alone despite doing everything in his power to keep it from happening. With the shock of a lifetime to provide perspective, Killian realized now he had twisted himself into someone he didn’t know in a misplaced attempt to please a man who would never be proud of him. He let go of all the things that made him happy—the people who made him happy—to try to meet some unattainable standard of perfection in the eyes of the horde he had mistaken for loved ones. People who had abandoned him the second he was no longer the darling of their social stratum.

Still, he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the buzz. He knew it was meaningless but the constant hum of activity gave him the illusion of being a part of something.

He knew some of the silence was his own fault. He had turned off him phone and frozen all his social media accounts. It seemed wise given the shit show that was currently his life and all the expensive advisors agreed laying low was the best course of action in situations like these.

Luckily, his dwelling and a few pieces of furnishings were his outright, bought with the small trust he inherited from his mother so at least he wouldn’t be living on the street. He had a comfortable cage to crawl back into every night. A lonely place to be sure, but no one could take it from him. It was a lot more than most people would ever have and a lot less than he wanted.

For the first time in a long time, he looked out over the city and truly saw it.

He had no idea how long he had been standing there lost in thought when the elevator bell rang. Someone made it past the doorman and the front desk. Trying to figure out how his visitor managed to get all the way to the penthouse was a welcome distraction from his gloomy musings. The ringing kept up a steady pace but he didn’t make any effort to key open the door.

That is until the noise took on a familiar tune.

The unmistakeable though slightly off-kilter sound of Hooked on a Feeling rang out in the harsh meep of the doorbell. With something approaching wonder, Killian ran over to the security pad and punched in his code. Instantly, the elevator opened revealing a sight he never thought he’d see again.

Staring back at him through blue eyes identical to his own was the face of his long lost brother. Through the intervening years, Liam grew his hair out and it now curled in a way that made him think it was probably raining outside. Faint scores of wrinkles defined the areas of his profile showing Liam had continued to find joy in the struggle of life. Completing his perusal, he noticed his brother had bulked up, muscles replacing the softness of an idle life, probably a side benefit of his years in the Navy. His clothes were of the outdoor variety, navy utility pants topped with a gray fisherman sweater and pea coat, and they made him look like he stepped out of a travel magazine catering to ecotourists. “Liam, I...how did you find me?”

“Finding you has never been a problem, little brother. You don’t exactly fly under the radar. Reaching you on the other hand...well, I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to find a different way in since you won’t answer your damn phone and there isn’t a lock to pick on this contraption,” Liam explained, looking Killian over with a worried expression that gradually gave way to a bright smile. “You look like death warmed over.”

“Good to see you too,” Killian answered sarcastically, still trying to get his bearings. While Liam had changed in a few superficial ways, his determined expression and uncompromising attitude seemed unshakeable even after all these years. The bruised ego and hard feelings of their long separation faded away like it never happened and he was fifteen again, basking in the glow of a beloved brother. “Why are you here?”

“Why do you think? I’m rescuing you from your ivory tower.”

“I don’t need to be rescued,” he scoffed. Times made be bad, but it wasn’t like he was starving. He still had his pride and it forced the next words out of his mouth before he could stop to consider if they were true. “Certainly not by a man who acted like I didn’t exist my entire adult life.”

Stiffening, Liam advanced into the room, taking no notice of the breathtaking view or the recently minimalist design. Suddenly Killian was engulfed in a fierce embrace, pulled into his brother’s strong hold. He heard Liam say in a gruff voice, “Our father has a lot to answer for but know this, I thought of you every single day since I left.”

A little piece of him broke, even he couldn’t have said if it was his resolve or his heart, and he felt tears well up. Uncomfortable with the stir of emotions, he joked as he hugged Liam with equal intensity, “Aye, serves you right you bastard.”

“Too right,” his brother agreed, pulling away to clap him on the back. Barking out orders in a way that gave Killian a glimpse of the other man’s military background, he didn’t even argue when Liam said, “Pack your bag. I’m taking you home.”

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darlingsdevil · 3 years

Text

Forever Preserved in A Frame

Summary: The Van der Linde gang is notorious for their outlandish Christmas parties, but John Marston will have none of that. It’s Christmas after all.

A/N: A Secret Santa gift to Seb from the @real-rdr-facts server! I hope you enjoy!

Tags: 1920’s AU

RDR2 Masterlist

Merry Christmas !

•••

The Van der Linde gang was notorious for its outlandish and extravagant Christmas parties. No expense was spared. The finest food, champagne, music, everything about the party was big. The gang’s largest speakeasy — a grand basement decorated with imported luxuries was the center of it all. The speakeasy was hidden underneath a bookstore, the gang owned the entire block of buildings, entrances could be made through any of the buildings. Bouncers stood watch at every hidden doorway, waiting for the passerby to mutter the password to get into the party.

Anybody who was anyone was at the party. Which meant Arthur was required to go. He hated those things. They were obnoxious. He hated making small talk with stupidly drunk corrupted politicians, bigwigs in companies who exploited their workers, rancid people he had no interest being near. But following Dutch and Hosea meant all the politics. They had a reputation to uphold, the entire party was one big business transaction. A show of sorts.

Arthur tightened the tie around his neck and placed his hat on his head, feeling the dread of the party creep on him.

“Come on, John!” Arthur yelled as he walked towards the front door, his voice booming through the spacious apartment. He tapped his foot impatiently, looking at the watch on his wrist.

Arthur sighed. “John!” He shouted again. No response. Where was the little bastard? He already had a headache..

He found himself at John’s bedroom door, he knocked on it loudly.

“Open the damn door, John.”

No response again. Arthur managed to get the door open, only to find it was empty. A cold chill filled the room. The window was wide open, the bedroom vulnerable to the frigid night.

Arthur cursed and rushed to the window. Footprints were on the fire escape, they were fresh too. The raging blizzard hadn’t covered them up entirely. John must have just left.

Arthur made it to the street shortly after that, following John’s footprints down the street into a back alley. They were going to be late. All because John decided to play runaway for the night.

He examined the footprints, they led up to a large electrical box, big enough to climb onto. The snow had been disturbed at the top of the box. John must have climbed on it. What the hell was John doing? From there, he could have jumped onto the fire escape and made it up to the top of the building.

Goddamnit.

Arthur would have to explain everything to Dutch and Hosea. Though he was worried about the younger boy, Arthur wasn’t foolish enough to search for him in a blizzard. John was smart enough to handle his own, he had been on the streets a majority of his life, one night was no trouble.

•••

The bouncers let Arthur into the club, he didn’t even need the password. The party was booming downstairs, as he walked down the steps he could feel anxiety bubbling in him. Small talk, stupid dances, schmoozing with rich folk was far from his style. Dutch and Hosea wanted him there.. so he had to be.

He fidgeted with his cufflinks nervously as he examined the crowd. Not many people he recognized, some people he recognized from TV, other people he had become acquainted with through business deals, some people just had the face of looking familiar. The crowd wore their finest clothes, pearls and lace, white gloves and fancy dress shoes all hidden behind snake eyes. It was all very nauseating to him. The chandelier and ice sculptures reflected the fakeness of the crowd.

He would have to grab Dutch and Hosea when they weren’t entertaining a large group of guests. The two men dazzled in the room, if it wasn’t for all the expensive decor they would be the brightest thing in the room.

Arthur was stuck sitting in an uncomfortable party while John got to do god knows what out in the middle of a blizzard, it was almost unfair. He grabbed a champagne flute from a server and leaned up against the wall.

“It’s almost romantic, isn’t it?”

Mary-Beth found him first. A young writer sponsored by Dutch because he was fascinated with her work.

Arthur looked at her curiously. She looked out into the crowd of people.

“You know, the waltzing, the music, the fancy dresses. It’s all so Victorian,” She said dreamily.

“These things get boring after awhile,” Arthur replied, boredom apparent in his face.

“It’s my first time coming to a party like this. It’s all so elegant.”

“I wouldn’t call it elegant.”

“Well, what would you call it?” Mary-Beth asked him, looking at him with curious eyes.

“Loud. Fake. Annoying,” Arthur grumbled.

Mary Beth scoffed humorously, “Aren’t you a Scrooge.”

“Only during these parties.”

“Well, Mr. Duffy has been eyeing me all night, I’ll leave you alone to whatever,” She gestured to Arthur’s wallflower appearance, “This is.”

“Hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Miss Gaskill,” He called out to her.

“As to you, Mr. Morgan,” She smiled sweetly as she waltzed over the room to Kieran.

The dancing picked up, Arthur watched as Mary Beth led Mr. Duffy to the dance floor, he looked nervous and giddy. The music was fast and fun, most people began gravitating to the floor.

Sean MacGuire, head of the smuggling business of Irish cream and whiskey danced drunkenly with Miss Karen Jones, heir to a banking fortune. She blushed each time Sean’s hand slipped further down her waist. Lenny Summers who owned a prominent publishing firm chatted with the drunken fools as well.

He wasn’t much for dancing, no one would ask him anyways.

•

It was only a matter of time before Dutch and Hosea found him. They came knocking midway through the night, when all the introductories were finished. Arthur had drank two glasses of champagne, it was rare he got to entertain himself with such a fine bottle. He didn’t even really like champagne but it was Christmas, he deserved to let loose through the only viable option.

“Arthur, my boy!” Dutch called out to Arthur, arms outstretched for a hug. Arthur hugged him,

“Where’s John?” Hosea asked, glancing around the room to spot the teenager.

Arthur drew a breath in as he began, “About that.”

Dutch and Hosea’s happiness fell from their face, that line was never good, especially coming from Arthur.

“He escaped the apartment right before we were going to leave. Followed his tracks, went to the rooftops, I wasn’t going to break my damn neck looking for him during a snowstorm so I came here instead.”

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Hosea asked.

Arthur shrugged, “Didn’t want to bother you. Figured he could handle himself for awhile.”

“You sure he wasn’t kidnapped?” Hosea said quietly, leaning in close to him.

Arthur nodded, “Only one set of footprints, I followed them all the way to the roof until I couldn’t anymore.”

It was silent for a moment as Dutch decided what to do.

“We can’t send any men out tonight, they’re drunk out of their minds and we can’t pay anyone to look for him. Streets are bare. I don’t think even the cops would look for him on a night like this,” Dutch replied, his brow furrowed as he worried about John.

“What should we do then, Dutch?” Hosea asked.

“Let’s get our coats. We have to look for him before it gets too late.”

•••

The whole car ride was near silent, the street was eerily but expectedly deserted. The streets felt almost ghostlike. It was late enough into the night that most people had retired from a night of partying, it was early to a gangsters standards but civilians were schedule abiding people.

They checked Arthur’s apartment first. He had slipped a paper in the door to see if John had come by. He hadn’t.

Then they checked the alley in which he had made his grand escape. Not there either. His prints were mostly covered. Arthur cursed John for being so foolish, he would no doubt get a scolding and Hosea’s unbearable look of disappointment. It’s what the little brat deserved, running off like that on Christmas.

They decided to check the waterfront. Dutch drove the car wordlessly as Hosea and Arthur both checked their sides of the street to see if there was any sign of him.

Nothing. Streets were bare. It was hard to see with all the snow too.

They decided to drive by Sisika Center, the tree loomed tall with its bright lights in front of Saint Denis’ largest building complex. It had been packed leading up to Christmas, but now not a soul was out. Couples and families gathered by the tree, but Arthur was never much fond of looking at a lit up dead tree.

There was no one there as expected, Arthur sighed at the sight. Where the hell was the stupid boy?

Suddenly someone jumped in front of the car, Dutch swerved the car quickly, swearing loudly as the harsh snow littered the windows.

Dutch lost control of the car for a few seconds until he regained it, he slammed on the brakes and everyone held their breath until they were sure the car had stopped moving.

“What the hell was that?” Arthur asked, his heart still beating loudly.

Hosea was already halfway out the car. “John!” He shouted.

Arthur and Dutch stepped out quickly, John was standing in the middle of the road, standing with his hands on his hips almost annoyed.

“Took you long enough!” He shouted over the storm.

“John! Get over here now!” Dutch bellowed, the headlights illuminated John in the road as snow swirled around him.

“Come on!” John shouted, turning tail and running down the street.

Arthur shared a glance with the two.

“Well go after him, Arthur,” Dutch said to him, pinching the bridge of his nose, muttering all sorts of insults.

Arthur set off after him, except John stopped right in front of the tree. Arthur was damn near ready to tackle the foolish boy, but there was something serene about watching his brother stare bewitched at the twinkling lights. Arthur caught up with him and stood in silence for a moment.

“Before you say anything let’s wait for Dutch and Hosea,” John said, his eyes remaining fixed on the tree.

Arthur let out a sigh of annoyance. Eventually they heard the crunch of footsteps against the snow.

“John! What the hell was that?” Dutch called out.

John was dressed for the cold, he had mittens, boots, a large coat and a hat. The rest of the men only had on their tuxedos and furs.

“I’ve been out here all night. I knew you’d show up.” He began to explain, turning to Dutch and Hosea.

“You’re always at that stupid party, I never get to see you during the holidays, and if I do you only show me off to your rich friends like I’m some charity case,” John said, frustration filled his voice.

Dutch and Hosea both frowned.

“For once, I want a real Christmas instead of some party with a bunch of strangers. Like a family would have.”

The storm had let up, instead the snow twirled lazily through the sky, causing the snow from the bright lights to look like diamonds falling from the heavens.

Dutch and Hosea looked at Arthur for some confirmation.

He shrugged, “I don’t like the party either.”

Dutch and Hosea stared at each other for a moment.

“Then let’s stay away from the party for the rest of the night, what do you say, Dutch? The boys deserve a real Christmas,” Hosea suggested. John broke out in a bright grin.

Dutch sighed and nodded, “Alright.”

Arthur was surprised at the stunt John had pulled, as much as he hated the party, it was definitely out there. In truth, he expected nothing less from the delinquent. Running off wasn’t anything special to him, but on the night of the party was. All to get Dutch and Hosea’s attention.

“Thank you,” John said sincerely, he was relieved Hosea and Dutch hadn’t yelled at him yet.

The snow continued to swirl, almost like ribbon.

“I almost forgot!” John said quickly, digging into his pockets, he pulled out a slip of paper.

He handed it to Hosea. Hosea smiled warmly and showed the picture to Dutch, then Arthur.

It was a photo of the four of them, sharing a laugh at a table, Arthur had placed his hat on top of John and John barely fit into it, the hat covered most of his view.

It was a nice memory, a few months back. So much had happened since then it had slipped all of their minds.

“Where did you get this?” Arthur asked, examining the back of the picture.

“Albert Mason took it when we were at the grand opening of Pearson’s restaurant, remember?” John replied.

“Ah, yeah, now I do.”

•••

They returned to the apartment, Dutch and Hosea swinging by their respective homes to retrieve the gifts they had bought.

John was ecstatic to open gifts in a home next to a fireplace rather than a spiffed up basement. He had gotten everything he had wanted. Arthur smiled warmly at the sight of it all. There was no party chatter, no drunken fools, no fakeness, it was all genuine. It was no performance. It was cozy and homely, and joyful and everything Arthur had secretly wanted out of Christmas.

The framed picture sat on the fireplace for years for many more Christmases.

Sometimes John liked to pick it up and show baby Jack the photo. The infant recognized all of them, and giggled happily at the sight of his father’s family. Many more memories had been made since then, but John liked to think this was where it all truly started. The parties were still thrown, this time moved from Christmas Day to Christmas Eve. Both John and Arthur were forced to attend.

John looked at the back. It was a distant memory now, though the picture had not collected dust.

John, Arthur, Dutch & Hosea

Circa 1924.

•••

#rdr2 #Arthur Morgan #dutch van der linde #Hosea matthews #John marston #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #1920’s au #au #Christmas

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thedinanshiral · 3 years

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My personal DA4 wishlist + thoughts

I’ve been teasing this post for a couple of weeks over at Twitter, i’m the worst! But anyway, since game journalism has decided to confirm, once again, that the next Dragon Age game will be set in Tevinter like that’s breaking news, now’s as good a time as ever to write all this down.

Locations: Tevinter, clearly. It’s been pretty much a given since the end of Trespasser in 2015, with that scene where the Inquisitor stabs a map on a table directly on Tevinter as they promise to go after Solas to stop him. But also concept art and several stories from Tevinter Nights heavily imply Antiva, Nevarra, the Anderfells, and maybe Rivain. For those of you who don’t know your Thedosian Geography 101, that’s basically Northern Thedas. And it makes sense, since so far for three games straight we’ve been first stuck in Ferelden, then the coast of the Free Marches, and later the rest of Southern Thedas. We’ve never been North, only heard of it. So in DA4 i’m sure we will finally be able to visit.

Characters: If we’re going to Tevinter, we must meet Dorian again, maybe meet Maevaris Tilani as well (previously only seen in comics), judging from the latest comics series, i’m hoping for Fenris too. And going by the latest teaser trailer, we might see Varric again. As for characters that so far we have no news of, i’d like to see Cole, the Iron Bull, and if by any chance BioWare feels like blessing us with a Hawke/Fenris reunion i might just die happy. I’d also very much like to see the Inquisitor, but more on that later.

Companions: considering concept art and the latest teaser trailer, plus Tevinter Nights stories and new characters, we have an interesting repertoire of new potential companions. A Tevinter mage, an ancient elf (like a temple guardian) or a dalish elf (like Strife), a Nevarran mortalitasi or spirit, Antivan Crows, Lords of Fortune (new faction, kind of like treasure hunters), Qunari lady, maybe an alchemist or shapeshifter, Grey Wardens (possibly a dwarf), a liberated or escaped slave, a Siccari (Tevinter spies/assassins)..even past agents of the Inquisition could return.

Plot: We know Solas wants to take down the Veil. We know there’s two archdemons left, and Grey Wardens are regaining some spotlight in concept art lately. We might have to fight on multiple fronts simultaneously and be strategic about it. Solas might even unleash a double Blight just to keep us distracted while he focus on his own goal, who knows. But many other things are happenig in the margins and all over the place. The Qunari Antaam is having a crisis with some of its members supposedly going rogue, the order they’re so proud of is breaking up, and the whole of Northern Thedas is facing an imminent threat of invasion. Tevinter is still dealing with remnants of the Venatori and might soon be dealing with a slaves rebellion and/or a political and social reform (Magisters Dorian and Maeveris have been working wirh the Lucerni, a group aiming to restore and redeem Tevinter). The Antivan Crows -the de facto rulers of Antiva - may be dealing with a succession crisis, as their First Talon, a powerful feared and respected but old lady, might not be around for much longer and seems her chosen heir has died before his time. Meanwhile in the Anderfells nobody’s heard anything from the Grey Wardens’ HQ at Weisshaupt since the end of Inquisition, and as told in the novel Last Flight, the sudden reappearance of griffons may have had something to do with that radio silence. So you see, get ready for another +100 hours long game because BW has plenty of stuff to keep us busy with. But in short, DA4 seems will be about primarily searching, finding, and dealing with Solas. Regardless of what you decided at the Exalted Council in Trespasser, the Inquisition or what’s left of it is most likely the group orchestrating that mission. As it was so clearly stated then, they need new people Solas doesn’t know so he can’t foresee their actions, so it’s possible the DA4 protagonist is a new agent or a third party hired to do what the Inner circle can’t due to their familiarity with Solas in the past. But at the same time -and this is assuming we get to find Solas in this game - i definitely think the Inquisitor could easily show up again. No, losing an arm doens’t mean they’ve retired forever, prosthetics do exist in Thedas, a world where you can combine dwarven craftmanship with enchantments, seriously, i don’t ever want to hear “but they lost an arm” ever again as an excuse to write them out. And no, marrying Cullen or joining the Red Jennys is no impediment to join the “Stop Solas” Squad; the end of Trespasser means something, mainly that this is personal. Be it they loved them as lovers, as friends or ended up hating his guts for using and betraying them, the Inquisitor’s relationship with Solas makes this very personal, and so having any other character do that face off would cheapen all of it, all that bittersweet angsty development and expectations of either revenge or closure. That moment should happen between those two. It adds a ton of motivation due to their past historyas well, something a new protagonist would lack entirely. My personal best hope is for a sort of dual protagonist thing, say we play new protagonist for most of the game but a selected missions or scenes where we play as the Inquisitor once again and take over for key and heart-wrenching dialogue options. My second best hope is for the Inquisitor to show up as playable for the moment we catch up with Solas. My third and final best hope is for the inquisitor to be a sort of advisor but more like new protagonist’s boss/employer to whom they report back to and get new missions from. The Inquisitor can be stuck in meetings for the most part of it, i just want to know they’re there, behind a door, super busy but there. A cameo like Hawke’s in Inquisition is the bare miminum i can take, anyhting less than that like a mention in a sidequest description or a footnote in a codex entry would be a total injustice.

Romances: I’m open for pretty much anything, as any good BW fan would be. But i’d like romances to feel more alive in the sense that they don’t abruptly get stuck once you exhaust all related quests and dialogue options. As much as my Adaar liked that spank from the Iron Bull, that it was the only thing they could share after their romance was locked was a bit..meh. I liked Dorian’s tho, because his gave one the option to talk a bit, go for a walk, gossip, and sure, it all happened off-screen, and there were limited possibilities, but it was nice and made their relationship feel a bit more real, like they had more to it than kissing and stuff. It happens in most games, once you secure a romanceable companion suddenly you run out of things to do and share with them, and you get stuck with the same 3 lines of dialogue over and over again. There should be a way of solving that.

Side quests: i’m ok with fetch quests initially as it is a good way of forcing the player to go out and explore huge maps, but i’d also like the fetching to have some meaning other than checking things off a list. I want to explore many ruins, and -can’t believe i’m actually saying this- i want a Fade quest. Wait! I know what you’re thinking but don’t kill me just yet, here’s my idea: what if we could visit the Fade at certain locations to witness memories or meet with spirits and recollect information on Solas, his past, his present? Both to understand him better (keep in mind we’ll most likely get a new protagonist who isn’t familiar with him like we are as players) and try to locate him or predict his next move. It would be i think i great way of having visions of Arlathan in its golden age, maybe seeing some of the other Evanuris, how they interacted with each other and with the elves in their service, what really happened ...i just want that sweet, sweet lore, i need it.

Technical stuff: ok, graphics will be amazing for sure, but i also would really really like: better, more varied and longer hairstyles, PLEASE. Body sliders, it’s damn time we get them. Mounts that actually make a difference! Let staves blades make damage in combat, I’M BEGGING HERE. Combined classes, MAGICAL ROGUES! A homebase we can fix up/build on/redecorate as fully as possible (Skyhold was great and i love it to pieces but why were those walls NEVER repaired????) . More casual outfit options, idk i love to dress up my characters, maybe some transmog? A day/night cycle and please i would love to see Thedas’ second moon, also weather variations depending on the region. Yes, i’m ambitious.

Gameplay: i’d like more AI options for companions, but not quite like in DAO, that was too much and i rarely used it. I’m curious how they’ll do combat this time but i know for sure i don’t want the kind of combat that has me going almost frame by frame pausing at every second, it’s annoying for me. I want large areas like in DAI but with a bit more stuff to see and do although one of my favourite maps is the Hissing Wastes so i won’t complain if we get a literal desert but i’d also like it to have secrets hidden around, make me work to find and solve them, i love exploring, i jump and click on EVERYTHING like i’m still a kid playing Monkey Island. A companion in concept art seems to be holding what looks like some form of rifle, so i’m curious how they’d incorporate that in the game. I know Tevinter has the magics and dwarves have the skill, a firearm is totally within the possibilities in-game without breaking any lore; also super curious what sort of skill trees Crows or Lords of Fortune could have, are they rogues, or warriors, or both??

So far, that’s what i got in my head.Well, most of it anyways, i may have missed something but this post has to end somewhere lol

What’s in your head? Feel free to share! Have you been thinking on how you’ll create your next protagonist? All i can think of is magical rogues and that glowing bow was all the hype i needed.

#Dragon Age #Dragon Age 4 #Tevinter #da4 wishlist #DA4

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omgkatsudonplease · 3 years

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[ficlet, bagginshield] shock and delight, pt 1 (bridgerton au)

The banks of the Brandywine River are packed with strolling couples on the day of the promenade, their chaperones following shortly behind. Thorin and the Fundinson brothers arrive exactly on time, Thorin carrying a bottle of Old Winyards. According to the sommelier in the shop at Bucklebury, this particular bottle was their last vintage one.

Bilbo and his chaperone Mr Greyhame show up a couple minutes late, the Hobbit fretting and dabbing at his brows with a monogrammed handkerchief. “I’m so terribly sorry for my lateness,” he flusters, hopping on one foot to the other like a nervous rabbit as he peers up at Thorin with a sheepish grin. “I forgot my pocket-handkerchief and had to go back for it.”

Thorin is caught between the absolute adorableness of Bilbo’s contrite pout and the absolute absurdity of the reason for his tardiness.

“You are forgiven,” he declares instead. Bilbo’s pout smooths into a heart-melting smile.

The two of them begin to head down the path alongside the river, their pace leisurely. Other promenaders pass them by, as well as several open carriages pulled by unprotesting ponies. Thorin finds his gaze oddly drawn to the way the spring sunlight seems to burnish Bilbo’s curls into gold. Probably where Lord Stormcrow got the Golden Hare moniker, he thinks, before forcibly looking away towards a young Hobbit family having a picnic by the river.

It’s a picture-perfect image of marital bliss. Thorin supposes something like that is what Bilbo is looking for, which Thorin himself obviously could not provide. Though he has yet to hear of any pushback against what must be an odd coupling by both Dwarvish and Hobbit standards, he is sure opposition will make itself known eventually. A marriage of true minds often lacks the productivity factor of a standard marriage, something which would be keenly felt in the family of a gentleman as distinguished as Bilbo Baggins’s.

He, on the other hand, has already named his sister-children as his heirs. So it didn’t matter whether or not he married at all, nor did it matter whether or not his One (wherever they may be) possessed the physical apparatus or mental inclination for childbearing.

“I have a question,” says Bilbo after a moment, breaking through Thorin’s thoughts like sunlight through stormclouds. “How do you know Gandalf? He’s an old family friend of mine, and apparently my cousin Fortinbras was the one who suggested he watch over me this season, but I don’t know how he would know you.” He looks thoughtful, hazel eyes peering inquisitively into Thorin’s face.

In spite of himself, Thorin feels exposed, almost vulnerable.

“I suppose Gandalf does have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, though,” muses Bilbo after a moment, before laughing and shrugging it off. “So? How do you know Gandalf?”

“To use your phrasing, Mr Greyhame has a finger in Erebor’s pie,” replies Thorin simply, not wanting to discuss how, years upon years ago, the Wizard had found his father in the depths of the Greenwood lost in enchantments and his own memories. King Thráin had, as the story went, finally succumbed to his grief about the deaths of his father and son, and had gotten lost in the Greenwood on his way to Azanulbizar to mourn them.

He half suspects that telling Bilbo all of that would just make the poor Hobbit run off screaming in the opposite direction. So instead he bites his tongue, folding his hands behind his back.

“I see,” says Bilbo, fiddling nervously with one of his cuff-links. “I’ve never been to Erebor. I’ve barely even left the Shire as-is.”

Thorin arches an eyebrow, remembering the abundance of maps and walking-sticks in Bag End the first time he’d gone over for dinner. The smial, though grand in size and luxurious in room variety, didn’t have the same cold ostentation as the mansions of Dwarves or Men. It felt homey, well-loved. A testament to lives well-lived.

No wonder Bilbo was so picky about the search for his One. If Thorin were not king, he would have wanted his halls just as cosy and warm, and he would have wanted to share it with only those who would brighten its nooks and crannies.

“You certainly give the appearance of being well-travelled,” he says neutrally, still thinking of the maps and walking-sticks.

“Within the Shire,” demurs Bilbo. “I have had to go to Annúminas on business, of course, and once I went to Fornost with my parents on holiday, but Hobbits as a rule try to stick within the four farthings of the Shire. After all, why go out to see the rest of the world when the world comes to us every year?”

His last question is both rhetorical and bitter. Thorin’s heart aches a little just hearing it.

“So it is a matter of respectability?” he wonders wryly. Bilbo raises an eyebrow, so Thorin explains. “There is not much stopping you from running out of your front door and into the Blue, after all.”

Bilbo chuckles ruefully. “No,” he agrees. “But every time the side of me that craves adventures begins to make plans, the other side of me protests mightily, saying I’ll miss my books and my armchair and having six regular meals a day.”

Thorin has, indeed, noticed that restaurants and tea shops in the Shire have a more constant cycle of meals than anywhere else in Middle-earth. He’s honestly not complaining.

“Speaking of meals,” he says, nodding towards the basket that Mr Greyhame is carrying, “I brought Old Winyards. Shall we find somewhere to sit?”

Bilbo checks his pocket-watch. “It’s halfway between elevensies and luncheon,” he remarks.

“Yes,” says Thorin. “Consider it ‘lunchensies’.”

Bilbo bursts out in laughter at that, a bright joyful sound that rings through Thorin like one of the golden bells of Dale. His own stomach flutters a bit, and it takes all of his self-control to simply gesture for Balin and Dwalin to come help them set up their picnic on the banks of the Brandywine River.

Lunchensies is a success. Bilbo immediately takes a liking to Balin the moment they all sit down on the blanket together, happily chatting with him about books and history in between bites of his sandwich. Thorin watches them, unable to stop the smile on his face as he watches the way his old friend brightens under the Hobbit’s genuine inquisitiveness.

“Yes, the road between here and Erebor was not as arduous as it used to be,” Balin is saying. “There is, of course, the stray highway robbery within Orc territory, but rumour has it that after the Shadow was broken at the end of the last Age, the majority of the Enemy’s armies have fallen out of its thrall and prefer to keep to themselves within the Mountains.”

“Occupying the ancestral halls of Khazad-dûm,” growls Dwalin. Thorin, too, feels the cold resentment deep in his stomach, but he tempers it by watching Bilbo chew thoughtfully at his sandwich, his nose twitching like a rabbit’s.

“While Durin’s Bane continues to live, Khazad-dûm cannot be retaken,” he reminds Dwalin.

“If it continues to live,” muses Balin, before hastily switching the topic. “On the other hand, we are fortunate not to have awoken anything similar within Erebor. Though we did almost lose it to the firedrake Smaug.”

Thorin remembers the flames, remembers the lives lost to the dragon. The tragedy had seemed insurmountable at the time, but now he supposes rebuilding a Kingdom within the ashes of dragonfire was not as bad as being forced to flee for a new home like what had happened to his ancestors in Khazad-dûm.

“Almost?” echoes Bilbo, his eyes wide. Dwalin hands him and Thorin both glasses of the Old Winyards. Mr Greyhame, too, is helping himself to a liberal portion of the wine.

“The Lady Mika, wife of the Lord of Dale, requited her husband’s death upon the dragon by shooting him with a black arrow,” explains Thorin as he pops a strawberry into his mouth. The fruit’s juices spill over his fingers; he hastily licks it off before wiping his fingers with the handkerchief.

Bilbo’s cheeks are dusted light pink when Thorin looks up again, and Thorin can feel his own cheeks heating in response.

“Well,” flounders the Hobbit, “that must have been terrible to go through. We haven’t had anything quite like that in the Shire, save for long and fell winters and the odd plague outbreak. But enough talk of dark and grim things! What is your favourite part of Erebor?”

The question throws Thorin for a moment. “Everything,” he says, but Bilbo raises a doubtful eyebrow at that. “All of Erebor is connected,” explains Thorin. “From the mines to the forges to the crafting halls, every part serves the whole.”

“Cogs in a machine,” muses Bilbo. “But what about a location? If you’ve grown up there all your life, surely you must have a favourite place. Secret hideouts from childhood, all of that.”

Thorin considers the question again, and this time the answer comes almost as if he had always meant to say it: “My mother’s garden,” he replies. “She kept a well-tended terrace beside the Royal apartments. We still take care of it, of course, and in the spring the cherry and apple blossoms blanket the grass like petalled snow.”

Bilbo’s expression lights up. “That sounds incredible,” he says.

“In the summer, the entire terrace is flooded with fireflies. I remember thinking once as a child that they were stars come down to play with us.”

Bilbo’s hands tighten against the stem of his wineglass. “I should very much like to see that,” he says quietly. Thorin smiles, before noticing the knowing glint in their companions’ eyes.

He glares at them until they subside.

#the hobbit #bagginshield #tolkien #lily's dabbles #bridgerton au

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rockislandadultreads · 4 years

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Gothic Fiction: a 2020 reading list

Did you adore Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia? Check out these titles with similar dark themes..

Flyaway by Kathleen Jennings

In a small Western Queensland town, a reserved young woman receives a note from one of her vanished brothers—a note that makes question her memories of their disappearance and her father’s departure. A beguiling story that proves that gothic delights and uncanny family horror can live—and even thrive—under a burning sun, Flyaway introduces readers to Bettina Scott, whose search for the truth throws her into tales of eerie dogs, vanished schools, cursed monsters, and enchanted bottles. In these pages Jennings assures you that gothic delights, uncanny family horror, and strange, unsettling prose can live—and even thrive—under a burning sun. Holly Black describes as “half mystery, half fairy tale, all exquisitely rendered and full of teeth.” Flyaway enchants you with the sly, beautiful darkness of Karen Russell and a world utterly its own.

The Safe Place by Anna Downes

Emily is a mess. Emily Proudman just lost her acting agent, her job, and her apartment in one miserable day. Emily is desperate. Scott Denny, a successful and charismatic CEO, has a problem that neither his business acumen nor vast wealth can fix. Until he meets Emily. Emily is perfect. Scott offers Emily a summer job as a housekeeper on his remote, beautiful French estate. Enchanted by his lovely wife Nina, and his eccentric young daughter, Aurelia, Emily falls headlong into this oasis of wine-soaked days by the pool. But soon Emily realizes that Scott and Nina are hiding dangerous secrets, and if she doesn't play along, the consequences could be deadly. Superbly tense and oozing with atmosphere, Anna Downs's debut is the perfect summer suspense, with the modern gothic feel of Ruth Ware and the morally complex family dynamics of Lisa Jewell. Welcome to paradise...will you ever be able to leave?

The House of Whispers by Laura Purcell

Consumption has ravaged Louise Pinecroft's family, leaving her and her father alone and heartbroken. But Dr Pinecroft has plans for a revolutionary experiment: convinced that sea air will prove to be the cure his wife and children needed, he arranges to house a group of prisoners suffering from the same disease in the cliffs beneath his new Cornish home. While he devotes himself to his controversial medical trials, Louise finds herself increasingly discomfited by the strange tales her new maid tells of the fairies that hunt the land, searching for those they can steal away to their realm. Forty years later, Hester Why arrives at Morvoren House to take up a position as nurse to the now partially paralysed and almost entirely mute Miss Pinecroft. Hester has fled to Cornwall to try and escape her past, but surrounded by superstitious staff enacting bizarre rituals, she soon discovers that her new home may be just as dangerous as her last.

The Woman in the Mirror by Rebecca James

For more than two centuries, Winterbourne Hall has stood atop a bluff overseeing the English countryside of Cornwall and the sea beyond. In 1947, Londoner Alice Miller accepts a post as governess at Winterbourne, looking after Captain Jonathan de Grey’s twin children. Falling under the de Greys’ spell, Alice believes the family will heal her own past sorrows. But then the twins’ adoration becomes deceitful and taunting. Their father, ever distant, turns spiteful and cruel. The manor itself seems to lash out. Alice finds her surroundings subtly altered, her air slightly chilled. Something malicious resents her presence, something clouding her senses and threatening her very sanity. In present day New York, art gallery curator Rachel Wright has learned she is a descendant of the de Greys and heir to Winterbourne. Adopted as an infant, she never knew her birth parents or her lineage. At long last, Rachel will find answers to questions about her identity that have haunted her entire life. But what she finds in Cornwall is a devastating tragic legacy that has afflicted generations of de Greys. A legacy borne from greed and deceit, twisted by madness, and suffused with unrequited love and unequivocal rage.

You Let Me In by Camilla Bruce

Cassandra Tipp is dead...or is she? After all, the notorious recluse and eccentric bestselling novelist has always been prone to flights of fancy--everyone in town remembers the shocking events leading up to Cassie's infamous trial (she may have been acquitted, but the insanity defense only stretches so far). Cassandra Tipp has left behind no body--just her massive fortune, and one final manuscript. Then again, there are enough bodies in her past--her husband Tommy Tipp, whose mysterious disembowelment has never been solved, and a few years later, the shocking murder-suicide of her father and brother. Cassandra Tipp will tell you a story--but it will come with a terrible price. What really happened, out there in the woods--and who has Cassie been protecting all along? Read on, if you dare...

In Her Shadow by Kristin Miller

Once his secretary, Colleen is now pregnant with Michael's baby. When he brings her to his opulent estate, Ravenwood, she is abruptly thrust into a life of luxury she's never known. But Colleen finds the immense house suffused with the memory of Michael's beautiful wife, Joanna, who left months ago and who haunts her imagination. It quickly becomes apparent that there is little room for a new mistress of this house: The staff greets her with hostility, and there are entire wings and corridors from which she is prohibited to enter. Then bones are unearthed in the grove across the street. When Michael falls under the suspicion of the detectives investigating the case, the soon-to-be mother of his child finds herself hurled deeper into her boyfriend's dark past--a past that threatens to upend all her dreams. But the terrifying secrets lurking in the shadows of Ravenwood pale in comparison to the drastic measures Colleen will take to stake a claim to her new life. Inspired by Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca, In Her Shadow is the chilling story of one woman's desperate desire to be loved and the ghosts that get in her way--but only if she lets them.

Synopses pulled from goodreads.com

#fiction #gothic #gothic fiction #Reading Recs #reading recommendations #Book Recommendations #book recs #to be read #currently reading #recommended reading #booklr #booklist #library #public library #tbr #to read

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mhdiaries · 4 years

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Frights, Camera, Action! – Hauntlywood Elissabat Diary

This 2nd Day of August

On the eve of my coronation, 400 years ago tonight, I slipped into the moonless Transylvanian darkness and disappeared forever. I remember it like it was yesterday; The Vampire’s Heart casting its red glow over my room as Lord Stoker explained that I was much too young to be the queen without his help and that if I simply did exactly as he instructed, my unlife would be perfect for us all. I had not been acting all that long by then, but I knew enough to recognize a bad director when I heard one, and I was fangsolutely positive I did not want a starring role in this production. Fortunately for me, I had made friends with a young explorer and mad scientist named Hexiciah Steam. Hexiciah and Lord Stoker did not exactly see eye to eye on, well, anything, and so, partially to help me and partially to tweak LS, Hexiciah helped me escape to a waiting ship that would take me to Londoom. I asked him about the Vampire’s Heart, but he told me not to worry about it and that it was safe from the reach of LS. Thus I became known as Elissabat the First, not because I was the first queen to have that name, but because I was the first to choose self-imposed exile over the throne. I often wonder what kind of queen I would make today, 400 years older and hopefully wiser. I’m certainly wise enough to keep two diaries now, especially since several pages of Veronica Von Vamp’s private musings somehow ended up on a celebrity gossip site. Good thing Veronica never breaks character even when she’s writing.

7 August

My agent sent over a script today for me to read. It’s about a young ghoul who is chosen to be the queen of an ancient kingdom, not because she is the true heir but because the Lord Chancellor wants to control the kingdom through her. Except the ghoul finds out and takes off before she takes the throne, only to be chased all over the world by the Lord Chancellor’s hench-monsters. Besides being completely implausible it involves multiple locations, chase scenes, stunts and a very large cast of characters. It sounds exhausting. I would love to do a small picture next. Something shot on location in Scaris at a small outdoor café where there are long pauses in between conversations and shots of me staring off into the distance as I ponder the deep secrets of unlife. I can just see my agent’s face now. His left eye will start to twitch, and he won’t be able to control it so he’ll put his shades on and then he’ll break into a sneezing fit and have to excuse himself while he leaves my trailer to try and regain his composure. He’s actually a very good agent who really does have my beast interests at heart, but he is such an excitable little goblin that I can’t help but tweak him just a little bit. I do sometimes tire of playing larger-than-unlife roles, even though my fans really do seem to love the films. I would just like to stretch myself as a performer, and I’ve done so many of these... oh well. I love to act, the fans love to watch, and we’re all happy in the end - except the critics, but they’re never happy, so I don’t waste too much time thinking about them. V3

This 10th Day of August

Each day now I hear about growing unrest in the kingdom and how the vampire lords are mounting pressure upon Lord Stoker to find a queen. Personally, I think they are overreacting, since 400 years is just a drop in the coffin for a vampire, but they are a rather stodgy bunch. Order, tradition and discipline are the code they... we... live by. I have applied those virtues in the way I have chosen to pursue my career, and they are the secret to my success. I have been accused of having a photographic memory, but that is not accurate. I simply work as hard as I can to be as prepared as I can so I do not make careless mistakes. My stage fright has never gone away, and I doubt it ever will, therefore intense preparation is the only way I can stand in front of a crowd and do my job or jobs. I think my intensity intimidates other monsters, and I know I am perceived as not being “approachable”, but it takes a lot of concentration to be Elissabat playing Veronica Von Vamp playing a completely different character on stage or in film. It is why I need to not be in “character”, and for that to happen I need to be myself. I should be getting ready to be Veronica again, since a car is about to arrive not to pick up not a queen of the vampires, but a queen of the silver scream. Some days I do wish that I only had one role to play, but which one do I choose?

16 September

I’m making the press circuit to promote my new film today, so I’m bringing Viperine along to do my makeup. Viperine has been doing my makeup for a while now, and I simply adore her. She is chatty but not intrusive, and I completely trust the job she does, which is good since there’s really no way for me to check the work. She started doing my makeup quite by accident, when my regular artist got cast in some unscripted reality show... shudder... and left without any notice. Viperine was just an intern at the time and was cutting her fangs by doing makeup on creatured extras, but when I stepped out of my trailer and called her over, she didn’t even hesitate. She’s also that rare monster that is completely content not being in the spotlight. I asked her if she would like to be in front on the camera one day, and she told me that she felt like she was in front of the camera every time I stepped on stage. She has a fright future in this boosness, I think.

This 20th Day of September

By the pricking of my thumbs something fishy this way comes. It is all over the news that a new vampire queen has been found and confirmed by Lord Stoker who said that he used the Vampire’s Heart to verify that this ghoul is the true heir. Well this is certainly curious, since I know for a fact that the VH is as lost as Hexiciah Steam. Well, perhaps “lost” is not the proper description. Maybe “unavailable for questioning” would be more to the point. I know this because if Lord Stoker had the real VH he would have used it to track me down soon after I ran away, and I would have spent the last 400 years issuing rulings on property disputes, meeting with Yeti ambassadors and doing Lord Stoker’s bidding. I do wish this “new queen”, whomever she is, the best of luck, especially with old LS lurking around. He knows everything there is to know about how the queendom runs, but he couldn’t lead a one-zombie parade. I feel sorry for him, because he could be a real asset to the throne if he didn’t want to sit on it himself.

1 October

I’ve been nominated for another award, which will make the fans happy and the critics not. I think this may be my best performance yet, but it is a rather popular film, and monsters have been creeping to it in packs. Personally, I believe there is a direct correlation between how well critics like a film and how many monsters have actually seen it. The more obscure the film and fewer monsters that have seen it, the more worthy critics seem to heap praise upon it. I suppose it makes them feel superior, especially when they dig up that old line about it being “the most important film of the year.” ‘Tis tiresome, mostly because they hold up a film that very few have seen as the gold standard by which all others must be judged and then sneer at any comparisons to it, which is convenient. I’m not saying that every film I have ever acted in has been perfect; in fact, some of the acting choices I made as a young ghoul I wish I could go back and remake, but regardless of the role or film I always strive to give a performance worthy of the ticket price.

This 6th Day of October

So the new queen they have chosen is Draculaura! I had purposely been avoiding the news because I have been feeling guilty about the situation, so I did not know that she was the one. We used to play together when we were young ghouls back in Transylvania, and I still recall monsters mistaking us for sisters. This is not fair. I like my unlife and I do not want to give it up, but can I really allow another monster, especially one whom I consider a friend, to take over duties, obligations and responsibilities that were meant for me? I ran once. I am not sure that I can do that again.

#monster high #monster high diary #elissabat #frights camera action #hauntlywood

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isabilightwood · 3 years

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The Problem with Authority - Chapter 6

[Ao3][1][2][3][4][5]

Or, Sacrifice Summon! Jiang Yanli is here to make things right, be the ultimate big sister (step 1: bring back her dead brother), and maybe steal the Peacock throne in the process

Deciding to resurrect A-Xian was one thing. Putting the plan into action was entirely another. And unfortunately, the first step rested entirely on Nie Huaisang’s shoulders.

Nie Huaisang was not inclined to hurry. “I can’t snap my fingers and check every little town in the Cultivation World for one little snake,” he said, when she sent a butterfly to ask for updates. “I’m a miracle worker, not a god.”

Jiang Yanli understood this. But it felt like she was waiting around again for A-Xian to return from the Burial Mounds. Only this time, without an anxious A-Cheng to support, she had far less patience to spare.

One month felt as long as three.

While she waited, Jiang Yanli returned to Qin Su’s duties. The frequency of the garden parties had decreased, fortunately, with the changing weather and replacement of the extended family’s vault access with allowances. They were, as Jiang Yanli had predicted, very upset about the allowances. Muttering about how Jin Guangyao was taking away their rightful inheritance

And so, Jiang Yanli did paperwork in her office. Night hunt expenses and responses to letters about the watchtowers, often with Qi Juan keeping her company. Embroidering cranes onto a plain outer robe, while her baby napped, or crawled determinedly about the floor. Qi Juan found embroidery relaxing, as cooking was for Jiang Yanli — which she still could not do, thanks to Qin Su’s disastrous ability in that department — and was turning out to be very capable in finance.

She took meetings in her office now, too, with more than just the staff. The way she had convinced sect leaders to bend at the cultivation conference had been noticed, and some wanted to feel her out. They brought small but expensive gifts and tested her ability to sidestep seemingly innocuous questions. Asked her advice on night hunting cases or local issues the knew perfectly well how to solve. On occasion, she surprised her visitor with a piece of the puzzle they’d missed, and they left more intrigued by her than they’d begun.

It was never anything that threatened Jin Guangyao. Not yet. But he’d definitely noticed.

Unfortunately, A-Ling rarely joined them. He spent his days in the novice classes, for new disciples still working on forming their golden cores. Jiang Yanli had reorganized her schedule to spend more time with him, a few more hours out of the week teaching the very basics of sword forms. It was time she didn’t have. But it gave her more than just two meals a day — shared with Jin Guangyao, at least twice a week — and A-Ling’s bedtime with her son.

Qin Su continued her experiments with papermen, slowly increasing the amount of time she was able to stay away. It seemed to bring her more genuine pleasure than anything else, and so Jiang Yanli encouraged her, though she was anxious when Qin Su was out of sight. She couldn’t feel Qin Su when she was out of body, and it felt viscerally wrong, like something was missing.

Jiang Yanli was losing sleep over it, but with Qin Su’s golden core to compensate, she could manage.

Wen Qing was a comfort. She, too, had trouble sleeping, and was often up past the time when Jiang Yanli could no longer keep her eyes open.

They spoke frequently of the little brothers they each missed, and especially of A-Xian, two of the only people in the world who truly missed him. Finally, Jiang Yanli learned how he had lived those years in the Burial Mounds, and while much of it was heartbreaking, there was joy there too. So much more than she had dared to hope for.

She told Wen Qing in turn about A-Xian’s first talisman experiment. How he’d made and fastened a gigantic umbrella to Jiang Yanli’s boat, so she, too, could spend the entire day on the lake when A-Niang was in a mood. How he’d tried so hard to hide his pain at every turn.

Other times she simply told Wen Qing about her day, how A-Ling had done well on a quiz, or of his difficulty focusing during quiet solitary core formation exercises. About the antics of her older disciples, and the strangest questions an envoy asked or the most ridiculous demands by the extended Jin family.

Leading the pack was a proposal for a solid gold temple on a branch clan’s lands. They had heard of gold-coated temples in lands to the south that were reportedly more impressive than Koi Tower, and sought to outdo them without a thought for structural stability. Not to mention where they thought to find that much pure gold.

Jiang Yanli had informed them they could gild as many temples as they wanted on their own budget.

In return, Wen Qing told her of medical techniques she had invented or learned, far beyond the extent of Jiang Yanli’s knowledge. From surgeries on clouded eyes from a land of lush river banks and imposing desert pyramids far to the west to Wen Qing’s own use of acupuncture to redirect the flow of qi, enabling her excise the sort of meridian blockages that led to qi deviation, or siphon off resentful energy into the air.

Jiang Yanli had always been a good listener. But it was during those times, when she had the least to add to the conversation, that Jiang Yanli most often drifted to sleep.

She would have felt guilty, but she suspected that was Wen Qing’s intention. Instead, it only made her feel lighter, to be able to speak to someone honestly, about ordinary things without them knowing her every thought.

Usually, if she’d fallen asleep before Qin Su returned, she stirred slightly as she settled back in, and drifted back to sleep.

One night, Qin Su returned from her explorations feeling confused, and darkly contemplative. Though Jiang Yanli had managed to fall asleep in her absence, while Wen Qing was telling her how adding Schisandra berries to Jiang Yanli’s medication might have helped with her breathing problems, she came to full alertness as Qin Su slipped back into her head.

Something had happened.

I thought I saw resentful energy coming from Mo Xuanyu’s sleeve.

That wasn’t surprising. Mo Xuanyu had taken Xue Yang’s place as Jin Guangyao’s pet demonic cultivator, after all.

But he was flirting with the Kong Sect Heir, by the fountain in the garden closest to the Fragrance Hall, it seemed, from the image Qin Su showed her, and he didn’t seem to notice anything strange. He just kept blushing, and making abortive movements towards holding Xuanyu’s hand.

That was strange, she agreed. Not to mention, she’d thought he was flirting with the Luo Sect Heir.

Yes, he was, just last week.

Jiang Yanli had yet to meet the youngest of the Jin siblings. She would need to arrange to meet him, eventually, if he continued to prove elusive. Neither Nie Huaisang nor Wen Qing had the slightest idea what Mo Xuanyu was working on, and that could prove dangerous.

But meeting him would have to wait, because Nie Huaisang had finally found the fugitive he was searching for.

Before the sect leaders departed Koi Tower, Jiang Yanli had received a personal invitation to visit Baota for further negotiations with Sect Leader Zhai. To her surprise, she also been invited to visit the Qi Sect, in Chenggu, which had already agreed to a trial of three watchtowers, in its most productive farming region. Jin Huiqing had also patted her cheek and demanded a visit — it had been too long, apparently.

The behavior seemed strange to Jiang Yanli, but Qin Su insisted it was normal.

She chose a date for her travels only after she heard from Nie Huaisang.

There was no question that Qi Juan and Zhai Xia would join her to visit their families, but Jiang Yanli also wanted to bring A-Ling along.

“I’m concerned about the safety risk,” Jin Guangyao said with his usual plastered-on dimples.

“I’m more concerned with the security at Koi Tower.” Jiang Yanli informed him bluntly.

And because he couldn’t just admit that he had killed his own son, he conceded.

A-Ling might be able to finally meet his dajiu, so long as he didn’t know who A-Xian was.

In Baota, Jiang Yanli prospective sites for watchtowers, and was invited to spar with Zhai Qiaolian and their wives. “Just swords, no tricks with cultivation. We wouldn’t want to steal each other’s secrets by accident.”

Jiang Yanli wasn’t entirely certain what they meant by that, but as it would not require her to have mastered remote sword manipulation, she agreed.

And lost, soundly, to two out of three. It was some consolation that Qin Su claimed she would have also lost. Unfortunately, Zhai Xia finally extracted a promise that when she returned to Koi Tower, Qin Su would spar with her.

But her performance seemed to have pleased Zhai Qiaolian in some way, and they spent her final afternoon there sipping tea under a canopy while watching the Zhai disciples showcase their skills. A-Ling watched the sparring raptly from her lap, while discussing logistics.

As they left the training field, Qi Juan grabbed her by the left arm. Her vision swum at a sudden rush of pain. She fought to keep from crying out. She peeled Qi Juan’s fingers away, and the pain began to ebb.

“Oh, sorry! Are you hurt?” Qi Juan hovered frantically.

Jiang Yanli shrugged her off. “Just a cut. I was careless while sparring with Zhai-zongzhu. What was it?”

“Zhai-zongzhu just let us see their sect’s techniques.”

Oh. Interesting. It was impossible to tell whether that thought came from her or Qin Su.

Her stop in Chenggu was much shorter, but she left Qi Juan with her family, claiming she would herself like to pay a visit to Jin Huiqing on her way back to Lanling.

It was, as Qin Su pointed out, a good excuse to send the guards back to Koi Tower ahead of them. If they complained at being sent away, it could be considered an insult to Jin Huiqing. They were, after all, not only Qin Su’s husband’s own cousin (and though it was not publicly known, her own), but her older sister’s (estranged) sworn sibling.

The guards left. They would likely keep watch in Lanling, and arrange to join her as she returned to the tower to avoid censure from their sect leader. That was fine. It wasn’t as though she intended to parade A-Xian back to Koi Tower.

Jin Guangyao might find out she’d dismissed the guards, if he had spies watching the city closely enough, but the guard certainly wouldn’t tell him.

In Fengyang, Jiang Yanli found herself buried under a mountain of the friendliest cats she had ever met. Even A-Ling, who was loudly insistent that he liked dogs, deigned to scratch a few ears, after the first time a cat purred and planted itself in his lap.

As the Sect Leader was out of town on a night hunt, it proved a perfect opportunity to ask a burning question.

“What happened, between you and Qin- my sister?” Sworn siblings did not simply drift apart. “I know she’s angry, but…”

Huiqing hummed, shifting the placement of one of the two cats on their lap so it was no longer seated on the other’s head. “Oh, she has her reasons. Qin Xifeng would say I shirked my duty.”

She followed Qin Su’s lead for the conversation, as Huiqing might know her well enough to tell the difference. “Just for marrying out? For not, what, bringing Fengyang closer to Lanling?”

“No, no, though perhaps she would argue that as well. Our falling out was a matter of timing.” They sighed, and missed the same cat rolling back on top of its friend. “I would have thought you would agree with her, A-Su.”

Because of my — Qin Su shuddered — marriage? It’s not like my sister talks to me enough for me to know her opinions. A few times, she’s visited Koi Tower to meet with Jin Guangyao, and I only found out after she left. Her former friends must have spent more time with me than she did, growing up. But then again --

“My sister doesn’t have fifty of the friendliest cats in the world.”

They laughed. “That’s true. She doesn’t!”

Visiting Huiqing as Qin Su was a rather different experience from the times they, Mianmian, and occasionally Qin Xifeng had sought her out during the Sunshot campaign, when they drafted idle cultivators into doing the grunt work for Jiang Yanli’s kitchens and infirmary. Or later, during their brief tenure as first disciple, helping her gently bully Zixuan though social interactions.

She was there for no more than two days, but she felt completely and utterly spoiled.

Is this the meimei treatment? She asked, slightly dazed.

Just wait until you meet my brother. Qin Su informed her with a strange mix of smugness and exasperation. Kind of like Jiang Cheng, on a good day.

From Fengyang, she doubled back westwards, into Lieshan, meeting Nie Huaisang in a town at the base of a small mountain range. Somewhere in those foothills, there was a town that specialized in funeral goods, shrouded in blood-spattered rumors.

She wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of leaving A-Ling with Nie Huaisang, but she wouldn’t take her son into danger under any circumstances. Fortunately, it seemed Nie Huaisang had brought along five of his own disciples. The tallest of them, a woman almost as broad shouldered as Nie Mingjue had been, lit up at the sight of A-Ling, and immediately produced a pair of wooden swords from her sleeve. “May I?”

Jiang Yanli nodded for her to go ahead, and A-Ling was vigorously whacking the sword the woman held firm with his own before she had even exchanged greetings.

Nie Huaisang’s entourage was clustered around two tables, with a spot open across from him. He was not quite the smallest of the group in height, but even the short one had more muscle mass. Yet — when Nie Huaisang asked his disciples to give them privacy, they thumped him companionably on the back, making him grimace and smile, before obeying. He lead them not only because of his bloodline, but because he was theirs.

She placed the pot of lotus and pork rib soup she’d gotten up early to make on the table. At least in an inn, no one thought her likely to burn anything down. A-Ling had wanted to help, when she’d been slicing the roots, pouted when she wouldn’t let him use a knife, and then adorably bouncy when she let him taste the results. Replacing the heating talisman that was beginning to peel off, she took a seat.

“You’re certain this is Xue Yang? Not a local Yiling Patriarch copycat, or someone trying to bring their village notoriety?” After all, the village in question had been plagued with early deaths long before a demonic cultivator began to take a staring role.

Xue Yang would be attracted to such a place, but so would any garden variety demonic cultivator.

Nie Huaisang produced a fan just to flutter it dismissively. “Oh, it’s him. No one else has the skill or ability to play with their victims the way he does.”

Oh, great. We’re using an even more twisted mass murderer to resurrect the Yiling Patriarch. Fuck. Qin Su vanished into the talisman tucked into her sleeve when she realized Jiang Yanli had heard that. She didn’t get the chance to say that she understood why Qin Su, who had never met A-Xian, would be worried.

Jiang Yanli shrugged off her apprehension. “All right. How do I get there?”

“Ah. I’ll be going into the foothills with you.” Nie Huaisang said lightly — too lightly, given his promises to the contrary. “Not to confront Xue Yang, of course. I value my life more than that. But the rumors of walking corpses go far beyond what any demonic cultivator has achieved since the Yiling Patriarch. Since Wen-guniang confirmed that Wei-xiong made his Tiger Seal from some creepy sword he found in a monster’s belly…”

“What do you want with the Yin Iron?” She asked, in a pleasant tone.

If Nie Huaisang took it as threatening, that was his problem. Constant suggestions of ways to throw her baby brother into danger would not be tolerated.

A-Xian would have to help depose Jin Guangyao, because that was how the Sacrifice Summon worked, without risking whatever Qin Su had done to them both. Or leaving A-Xian trapped in a nightmare, with Xue Yang in his head. But she wanted to keep him safe, outside of situations that could not be avoided.

“Nothing! But I bet Wei-xiong could find a use for it.” He backtracked when she glared. No one was handing A-Xian Yin Iron if she had anything to say about it. “Or at the very least destroy it.”

“You were supposed to watch A-Ling.”

At that, he laughed. “Oh, no, Xiaodan is much better at keeping children alive than I am. I’m far too easily distracted for babysitting.”

Nie Xiaodan, the muscular woman, lifted her head at the sound of her name. “We’ll keep your little man entertained. He won’t have a scratch on him.”

“I’ll be very impressed if that’s the case. He’s managed to skin a knee or elbow every day of this trip so far.” A-Ling had been very dramatic about it, every time, even after she bent to his demands to kiss it better. “But isn’t it your duty to protect your sect leader?”

Nie Xiaodan did not miss a beat in her mock duel with A-Ling as she replied, though she was only watching him from the corner of her eye. “Eh, he’ll be fine. If A-Sang can sneak around Koi Tower without getting caught, he can avoid a demonic cultivator. Better to have us guard this little troublemaker, we’d only get in A-Sang’s way. Damn, your nephew hits hard. He’ll fit right in.”

Tall, muscular, and good with children — she would have been exactly Jiang Yanli’s type, as a teenager, when she secretly dreamed of being rescued and carried off to a happily ever after. Before A-Xuan returned her feelings, and she realized how much she liked that he liked being ordered around.

A-Ling beamed, and redoubled his efforts.

“I’d ask you not to teach him any more swears, but his jiujiu has already made that a moot point.” At least A-Ling did not yet understand what they meant, cheerfully exclaiming shit when he dropped something on purpose. Getting him to stop was a hopeless battle.

Jiang Yanli supposed she had no more arguments against Nie Huaisang accompanying her. “Fine. I’m sure you’re very good at hiding.”

He beamed like she’d given him a compliment. “I am!”

From the first step into the foothills, the world felt slightly out of place. It wasn’t anything obvious. The sky was the same blue with wispy clouds as it had been in town. The dirt was dirt; the trees were trees. The grass, such as it was in the wilting autumn, was grass. But the golden haze of the afternoon sun felt more like a nightmare than a dream, and the path forward seemed like the road to hell. Nie Huaisang lagged behind, uncharacteristically silent.

You don’t see it? Qin Su asked.

Looking around again, she could see nothing that might have drawn her interest. See what?

The fog of resentment. At Qin Su’s nonplussed words, she received a flash of an image. A doubling of the scenery before her, but with dark, smoke-like wisps overlaying everything. It didn’t seem to be doing anything, wasn’t drawn toward them with the intent to harm. It was simply there.

When A-Xian had used demonic cultivation to control resentful energy directly, rather than through corpses, he appeared to be pulling the energy from his surroundings as well as the amulet. There were even types of ghosts that could hide, undetectable by cultivation, until provoked. Could Qin Su be seeing ambient resentful energy?

That would explain what I saw with Mo Xuanyu, but not how I can see it. And then, quietly. Am I a tethered ghost?

Jiang Yanli didn’t know how to answer that. Though Qin Su was certainly angry, she didn’t feel like any resentful ghost she had ever come across. Not that there had been many, given her low cultivation and disinterest in night hunting. She’d only been given enough practical training to be able to get away to find help if she ran into one. Perhaps A-Xian would know.

However I’m seeing it, it’s getting thicker. Qin Su said with an undertone of worry a few minutes later. That probably meant they were approaching the village, and Xue Yang.

Soon after, they came across a teenage girl squatting off the side of the road, picking mushrooms.

“Hello,” she said, “I’m looking for someone. Do you think you might be able to help us?”

Though her irises were almost white, she had clearly been looking at the mushrooms she was gathering. “Might be, if you tell me something about them. Who’s us?”

She turned back to find that Nie Huaisang had vanished while she was paying attention to the girl.

He had claimed to be good at hiding.

“Just me then. I’m a cultivator, looking for a member of my sect. He’s a young man, who favors dark colors and candy. He’s missing a pinky, and I’ve heard his laugh described as skin crawling.”

“Please tell me you’re here to take that asshole away forever.” The girl groaned.

Clearly Xue Yang had not endeared himself to everyone in this town. Likely only, mysteriously, Xiao Xingchen. “That is the plan, yes.”

“Thank the heavens, my prayers have been answered.” She threw her head back and clasped her hands together. Looking back at Jiang Yanli, she said, “No, seriously, I have been leaving offerings in the village shrine and I’ve never done that before for anything. I don’t know why you want him back, but please take him far, far away.”

Qin Su’s amusement bled over into her, and Jiang Yanli laughed. “I see he’s made an impression. Where is he now?”

She shrugged. “Probably bothering Daozhang while pretending to help him peel vegetables. I’ll show you.”

The people they passed in the street looked downtrodden and miserable, more than she would have expected from a town that was a bit weathered and far from wealthy, but in good repair.

The air is chocked with resentful energy. Qin Su shuddered. That can’t be good for them.

The girl brought her to the entrance of a courtyard, and paused.

“He’s over there. I’m gonna go be… somewhere else.” She turned on her heel and walked back in the direction they’d come.

This was it. Her one chance to bring back A-Xian. She took a deep breath, and plastered on a smile.

When Jiang Yanli entered the courtyard, she saw a man dressed all in white, with a strip of cloth over his eyes was bent over a basket, smiling at a man in black who was leaning halfway into his lap, obstructing the first man’s progress. This must be Xiao Xingchen, the celebrated disciple of Baoshan Sanren. Of whose relationship with his former cultivation partner A-Xian had not so much expressed envy, as radiated it from every pore.

Yet now here he was, smiling obliviously at the man who had ruined his life.

Xue Yang pressed a kiss to Xiao Xingchen’s cheek and burst into unhinged laughter as he pulled away. Xiao Xingchen only blushed, and kept working.

(“What?” She’d asked, when Wen Qing suggested that someone might deserve having their soul destroyed.

“If anyone deserves it, it’s Xue Yang.” Wen Qing had said.

Then, Jiang Yanli had not disagreed. And when Wen Qing had explained Xue Yang’s obsession with A-Xian, she had known he was the best — no, only real possibility.

But now, she fully understood.)

Xue Yang looked up, and narrowed his eyes. He recognized Qin Su, of course, but must be surprised she would know enough of him to track him down. “Gege,” He said in a disconcertingly sweet voice. “There’s a pupp—”

“Shidi!” She cried out, and he paused, confused. “We’ve all been so worried!”

Xiao Xingchen was delighted to learn that his young companion was not quite so alone in the world as he’d believed, and immediately invited her to sit, and have some tea. Jiang Yanli was not going to drink anything that had been in Xue Yang’s vicinity, of course, but it wasn’t as though Xiao Xingchen would notice.

“It’s a small temple sect near the border of Lanling. He crossed a group disciples from the Jin Sect by mistake, and by the time we realized what was happening, he was gone.” Turning to Xue Yang, she gushed, “I’m so glad we’ve found you.”

“Are the Jins not still looking for me?” Xue Yang probed.

“Oh, they’ve forgotten all about us.”

“Gege, would you mind giving us a minute?” Xue Yang asked.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to disrupt your reunion.” Xiao Xingchen patted him on the cheek as best he could, and took his basket of vegetables inside.

She dropped her fake cheer as Xue Yang allowed his malice to come to the forefront. “Xingchen-ge doesn’t eavesdrop. It’s sickening how pure he thinks he is.”

“Yet you’re here, anyway, playing house.”

“Wow, someone grew a spine.” He was cruelly delighted.

Wow, I have not missed him. Qin Su mocked his diction. By the way, he’s not the only source of the resentful energy here, but there is a lot of it clinging to him.

“Oh, oh! Let me guess. You found out you fucked your brother. Are you mad about the incest baby? You want me to take care of the great Lianfang-zun for you?” He laughed. Without the simpering quality he’d added for Xiao Xingchen’s sake, goosebumps immediately covered her skin. “Too bad, I’m busy. Go away and go stab him in the back yourself.”

That hadn’t been the part she predicted having difficulty selling him on. “He had you beaten and left for dead. Don’t you want revenge?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I’ll get around to it eventually, if no one else gets there first. Cheer up! You get first whack at him. I have some suggestions if you want them.” He counted them off on his five-fingered hand. “Castration, branding, carving up his skin, peeling off his nails while he screams for mercy. Choose your favorite murder fantasy and go wild!”

Those are his murder fantasies? He is… not creative. Jin Guangyao already went through the branding and skin carving to become Wen Ruohan’s direct servant. I’ve seen the scars. Qin Su paused. Please do not remind me why I’ve seen the scars.

Jiang Yanli did not have to pretend to be disgusted; Xue Yang’s presence alone achieved that effect. “What if I could offer you the spirit of the Yiling Patriarch? All access, in your head, for the time it takes to get revenge.”

There was a spark of interest in his eyes, quickly replaced by fury. “No one’s been able to find the Yiling Patriarch’s spirit. If you tease me too much, I might not let you go after all.”

Presumptuous to assume he could take her in a fight. His skill with a sword was undoubtedly greater, true, but she had A-Xian’s talismans on her side. “Who said I needed to find it? His spirit will be sucked into you from wherever he is.”

She offered him a copy of the body-reshaping version of the Sacrifice Summon, with heavily edited captions in Wen Qing’s handwriting. Most notably, describing an infusion of resentful energy, the desire for revenge, and the caster’s blood as the catalyst for a non-controlling possession.

“Yaoyao did say the next thing to be transcribed would be a summoning of some sort. Is this it?” Eyes glittering, he leaned forward into her space, forcing her to lean back to avoid the stale candy scent of his breath. “How in the world did you get it? No one’s more paranoid than Yaoyao.”

Yaoyao. Qin Su sniggered. He must have hated that. I bet that’s the real reason he threw Xue Yang out of Koi Tower.

She shrugged. “I suppose he didn’t think leaving it where his wife might come across it would be a risk. It hadn’t been before.”

“Why are you offering me this? Why not summon the Yiling Patriarch yourself?” He squinted suspiciously, because it was so far out of the realm of his comprehension that someone might not want the so-called scourge of the cultivation world in their head. “Unless you’re not sure it works, and think I’m expendable and gullible.”

“No, I know it works. I can’t summon him myself because I’ve already used it.” She held out her arm, and pulled up her sleeve to show an old-looking cut, still raw at the edges. Jiang Yanli’s was not from the ritual, of course. If it had been, Qin Su would be gone forever.

Wen Qing had guided her through the steps to keep a cut open, and she’d rubbed the herbal mixture over the cut every night since she’d left Koi Tower. It was the best approximation they could make, for the cuts that wouldn’t heal until A-Xian got Xue Yang’s revenge.

“Who’s in your head, then?” He asked, intrigued.

“Jiang Yanli.”

“Who?”

She blinked. “The — the Yiling Patriarch’s shijie? Jin Ling’s mother.”

Somehow, it had never occurred to her that Xue Yang might not know who she was. She felt a moment of panic, wondering how she could prove it wasn’t simply a trick if they had to resort to Qin Su pretending to be her in a paperman.

He shrugged. “Ok, you’d probably have picked someone important if you were lying. But she really wants me to summon her brother? Seems unlikely.”

This was the trickiest bit — phrasing an argument in a way Xue Yang would both understand, and expect another person to understand. Wen Qing had coached her extensively on how to avoid setting Xue Yang off. Hopefully, this domestic fantasy of his had not changed his perceptions too much. “She’s as angry as I am. You’re good at murdering people; she wants to talk to her brother again. You get the Yiling Patriarch’s expertise in exchange for binding you to something you intend to do anyway.”

“Hm. I don’t like binding contracts.” Xue Yang said, even as his lips curved upwards with wicked intent. “But — Xingchen-ge!”

Xiao Xingchen emerged from the house, stopping in the doorway. “Yes?”

“I’m going on a trip!” Xue Yang exclaimed, the transformation back into his adoring persona even more disturbing now that she’d seen the real thing.

“Are you going home now? Are you certain it’s safe?”

He hummed off-key. “For a bit, at least. Maybe I’ll be back here, before you know it.”

“You will, of course, be welcome.” Xiao Xingchen said softly. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Xingchen-ge!” Xue Yang sounded almost genuine as he ran inside. There was a sound of things falling as he presumably packed his qiankun bags.

Creepy. At least he won’t be missing anyone soon.

“Are you already leaving tonight?”

Xue Yang’s focus was already elsewhere. “Oh, yeah, we have time to get down to town before nightfall.”

“You must be eager to see your sect siblings again. I understand.” Xiao Xingchen sounded sad, but he would be better off without him.

“Sure.” Xue Yang said noncommittally.

When Xue Yang was packed, Jiang Yanli walked out of the courtyard a few steps behind him. She didn’t trust him at her back. “There’s an empty warehouse a few streets over. I’ll do it there.”

“You’re eager, for someone who doesn’t like binding contracts.”

“I’ve wanted to steal the Yiling Patriarch’s secrets for years, of course I am. Besides, the strength of the resentful energy in Yi City should help with the array. I barely even had to build it up myself, it was already like this!”

“I… see.” So if Qin Su was worried she was seeing something that wasn’t really there, she could stop that now.

I don’t think Xue Yang’s word proves that. But I was thinking that was what he did.

“No second thoughts now!” Xue Yang turned to walk backwards, clasping his hands behind his back. “What’s the soup for, by the way?”

“You’ll be starving after. I was.” She lied. “And this was Wei Wuxian’s favorite dish.”

Xue Yang’s grin widened to unnatural proportions. “Oh? The Yiling Patriarch’s favorite? I’m learning things already!”

Xue Yang drew the array with an intense focus Jiang Yanli hadn’t thought him capable of only moments earlier. She watched from a safe distance near the wall.

“Hmm, I can add more than one target, right? So that’ll be Su She. Those Jin guards who beat me. Fuck, I need to know their names, don’t I?” He tapped a paintbrush, red with his own blood, against his chin. “Let’s see, it was… Fan Caining, Jin Qian…”

He listed four more names as he inscribed them in the appropriate places around the array, all of whom were relatively strong cultivators, but outer disciples, or Jins too far removed from the main line to be named by the generational poem. All of them, according to Qin Su, sycophants. As happy to take unscrupulous orders as go night hunting.

Xue Yang looked up. “Do you think I should add Yao-zongzhu?”

She didn’t think anyone would be particularly upset if he died, but that was already eight people who would have to die for A-Xian’s new lease on life to become permanent. “Has he ever done anything to you?”

“Only tried to annoy me to death.”

“I don’t think the array would count that, no.” Jiang Yanli knew no such thing. But A-Xian wouldn’t be particularly happy about the guards as it as.

Xue Yang sighed wistfully. “You’re probably right. I’ll just have to get around to him at some point. And I can’t add Xingchen-ge or Song Lan or the brat, because of the time limit. Only a year? No, I want to draw that out.”

With one final symbol, the array was complete. Xue Yang hummed to himself as he carved the incisions into his arms. As he finished the last one, resentful energy was pulled towards him, now visible, from the surrounding air.

At first, he laughed.

Until the first black bubble formed on his hand, like the pustules on a rotting fierce corpse.

Xue Yang stared at it, in shock, and swore viscously as he shook it out. Black blood landed on the ground with a wet splat. That didn’t stop more bubbles from forming, and proliferating. Even as he shook them off, the discarded bubbles began to inch back towards him.

Jiang Yanli was horrified, and a little fascinated, her eyes glued to the transformation.

Qin Su balled up in her mind just enough to block her vision.

Even as she watched Xue Yang die, and she became a murderer, Jiang Yanli did not regret her choice.

Xue Yang finally accepted what was happening as the bubbles reached his neck. “You lied, you bi—”

The bubbles covered his mouth, cutting off the insult. His eyes were left for last, betrayed, and conscious to the very end. The body dropped to the ground, a seething mass of twitching darkness, as the reshaping continued.

Eventually, it lay still, human in appearance once again. Unmoving.

Just as Jiang Yanli was beginning to wonder if that was it, a flash of light shot down into the body - A-Xian’s body now, she could accept nothing else — and a cloud of resentful energy flew out from the array, making her flinch and cough.

When it cleared, Jiang Yanli rushed to the edge of the array, desperate to reach her brother. But she stopped, afraid to cross the barrier too soon.

A curtain of dark hair obscured his features, stealing away her chance to make sure that this body, at least, was his.

Qin Su sent soothing waves to her, but didn’t say anything. She, too, was caught in breathless anticipation.

When he finally stirred, she gasped.

A-Xian looked up at her through bleary eyes.

#the untamed #cql #wangxian #yanqing #qin su #my fic #the sacrifice summon! JYL fic #where the summoner (qin su) sticks around #this time featuring the resurrection of wei wuxian #with a twist #i really need to get better at timely tumblr posts ugh

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formlessvoidbeast · 4 years

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Lunchtime arrives in my time zone, the ingredients for the glorious cheesecake I’m going to make myself are coming up to room temperature, and I bring you the next gift!

This one is for @braidedribbon, who said: As a prompt, I will give you kidnapping! Either the more worrisome sort that requires cute rescuing. Or the slightly more accidental sort where the cute happens while being kidnapped.

I'm pretty sure you don't watch Leverage, but that's the fandom that popped immediately into my head for this prompt. I hope it reads ok without context!

Now:

The new security guy, Sinclair, was kind of intense, but damn did he get the job done!

Richard Fitzroy (heir and acting CEO of MedSure, who was mainly employed in making sure that the meds made him, personally, as much money as possible] met him in the mansion's underground garage. Sinclair was leaning against an unmarked work van, and stood up military-straight when he caught sight of his boss. "Mr. Fitzroy," he said, almost like it hurt him not to salute. Wearing his hair long certainly didn't disguise his past.

Richard waved off the formality. "You've really got her?"

Sinclair didn't bother to nod, just threw the van door open to show off his prize.

Miss Alice White (heiress of the Marshall-White fortune), started screaming through her cloth gag as soon as she saw them. Her blonde up-do was in disarray, eye makeup smeared from tears. She kicked weakly at him when Sinclair reached in to pull her out of the van by her bound hands. Sinclair didn't flinch, managing her like so much baggage.

She'd lost one of her shoes somewhere along the way. She limped along lopsidedly as Sinclair dragged her, struggling, into the house.

Richard punched in the keycode, and the wall slid open to his own personal bunker. 'Panic room' made it sound too tawdry, when it was such a useful space. "Where are my manners," he said, and pulled the gag down off Miss Alice's mouth.

"You can't do this to me, Dickie!" She screamed, eyes rolling. "My father—!"

"Thinks you're in Cancun for the month!" Richard interrupted, triumphantly. "I'll leave you alone to reconsider my very generous offer." He nodded to the taciturn Sinclair, who shoved her to fall—sprawling—in the bunker. "And don't bother trying to break out. No one but me can come or go from this room!"

Richard hit the button to close the famously claustrophobic Miss Alice into the little panic room. The hiss of the seals cut the sound of her screams short.

Richard turned and grinned at Sinclair. He reached out to clap the shorter man on the shoulder, only to stop short in the face of Sinclair's cold-reptile glare. He turned the gesture around to smooth back his own hair instead. "Well. That's going to simplify my life considerably. Good work, Sinclair."

"It's my job, sir."

Sinclair might be needlessly intense, but he was an extremely useful man to have on the payroll. Richard Fitzroy almost considered giving him a raise, and then laughed his way back to his office.

Previously:

"Ok, Parker's kidnapped," Eliot said. "You're kidnapped right now."

"Oh no, how terrible," Parker deadpanned. She checked her makeup in a little hand mirror, to be sure it was sufficiently smudged, and then quickly tied her wrists up with a bit of rope.

"Sharp turn," Eliot warned, and Parker braced herself on the floor of the van.

"This is gonna work," Hardison sounded nervous over the coms. "I mean, we know nothing in the world can hold you, babe. And Eliot will be right there if Dickie Fitz tries anything hinky. It's going to work fine. It'll be fine."

Parker rolled her eyes, and shared a smile with Eliot about their nervous partner. "We've planned it to the second," she reminded. "And I've got the world's best hacker to break me out if anything goes wrong."

"Oh, hell yeah!" Hardison agreed. "The man overpaid for his security system. I mean, it's nasty, but Steranko it is not. I'll have you walking out of there whenever you give the word, babe."

"Just about there," Eliot warned.

"Got it." Parker kicked one of Alice's shoes under the driver's seat, and ran a fingernail up her ankle to run her stocking. Eliot parked the van as Parker tied a gag around her head. Extremely nimble even with her hands bound, Parker. She smiled up at him, eyes crinkling up, and Eliot rested his hand on the top of her head, a brief second of affectionate contact, before he pulled the morally bankrupt persona of Adam Sinclair around himself and slammed out of the van to wait for Fitzroy.

Parker screamed theatrically when he threw the van doors open. Eliot 'dragged' her up to Fitzroy's panic room, and he did not laugh as Fitzroy locked the world's best thief into the room where he kept all his most damning secrets.

Now:

Everything went wrong after that.

Alice White vanished. Her father started breathing fire over conference call. Then one of Alice's custom-designed shoes was found in his work van, and the fall guy, Sinclair, pulled a runner with astonishing competence.

Fitzroy's security was left in complete disarray with Sinclair's disappearance, so nobody stopped his MedSure office from getting raided. Then, somehow, the profit-padding paperwork was in his file cabinets there instead of in the bunker? And calling his flashy new lawyer, Joe, gave a wrong number, time after time.

Fitzroy was down to his last contingency plan in the course of an afternoon, but the FBI caught him before he could board his private yacht and head for international waters. As he was cuffed and led away, he caught sight of three figures—impossibly.

Adam Sinclair, standing with one arm around Alice White's waist, and the other around the lawyer, Joe Miller, the very man who'd convinced Fitzroy that a deal with the Whites was the only way to keep his side deals from going public.

They all three smiled. Alice and Joe leaned into Sinclair's solid form and waved goodbye.

The FBI agents didn't seem interested at all listening to Fitzroy explain that he'd been set up.

#leverage #leverage ot3 #con #kidnapping #party business

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notsosensational · 4 years

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This is my classpect master post for Danganronpa 1! I just replayed the game so it’s fresh in my mind, and I tried to keep these fairly short so I cut out some of the smaller details. Feel free to tell me what you like or what you don’t. I will be reblogging with thoughts about Touko and Genocider Sho. Also check out @jinjojess post about the DR1 classpects! I compared a lot of my thoughts with theirs!

Naegi Makoto - Witch of Heart

-actively manipulates feelings and sense of self. He is not very confident in himself, we know this from the beginning, and I think that manifests as acting as a Seer of Mind pretty often. It gets him pretty far in the trials, but his true talent lies in getting people on his side. Sayaka was into him before she even talked to him, and throughout the game people come to him for help concerning things to do with emotions and sense of self (Touko & Byakuya, Kiyotaka & Mondo twice). Not to mention, he’s labelled “ultimate hope”, which is due to him being able to boost everyone’s spirits (change their mood).

Asahina Aoi - Sylph of Hope

-passively heals positivity, possibilities, and beliefs. I really wanted to go with life for her, but while she’s full of energy, she’s not all that concerned about growth or overcoming obstacles, she just wants things to turn out well and that’s more in the realm of positivity and possibility. When Sakura’s secret was out, Aoi was most concerned with how to get the rest of them to believe her and to believe in Sakura; she needed to heal the group’s faith. She consistently believes in everyone, even though she is frequently disappointed, and the only exception to this is Byakuya and Touko after they insult Sakura.

Togami Byakuya - Prince of Life

-actively destroys growth and energy. His manner is very, very prince-like, “I’m the best and I can’t understand why no one else sees that”, not to mention he’s basically a literal prince of his family. He’s very quick to shoot people down and destroy their spirit, their energy, and during investigations he’s either no help at all, or antagonistic. All of the life players we’ve seen in HS have been on top of the food chain, the Peixes blood color and Jane’s Crocker corporation, which are both comparable to the Togami family. Before the killing game, he was most concerned with growing stocks, owning businesses, and obtaining knowledge he will use when he is the monarch of his family, which all seem life-like.

Celestia Ludenburg - Heir of Void

-passively changes misfortune and secrets. Originally I had her as light, but she doesn’t really care about information, only keeping secrets. She doesn’t use fortune to her favor, instead she just *is* luckier than the others, i.e. changing everyone else’s misfortune. She’s not actually that active though- she doesn’t do it on purpose and she doesn’t do a lot in general as she prefers to get others to do stuff for her. But she does play into the heiress persona, changing her name to seem like nobility and wanting dozens of servants.

Fujisaki Chihiro - Page of Doom

-actively exploits and is served restrictions and suffering. She is very clearly doom, as she is very empathetic due to her suffering in life, in addition to being a programmer when doom is linked to coding. I really can’t see anything else. Her being a page is also pretty clear- a slow growing class that tends to put up a facade, and is linked to a servant archetype when Alter Ego was basically the team’s servant. Her main desire is to help the rest of them even after her death through the restrictions that Alter Ego has.

Yamada Hifumi - Rogue of Light

-passively steals information and substance. I considered a number of possibilities for him, settling on light first. He has the rambley, self-important dialogue of a light player, he collects information about his interests in anime and fanfiction, and he creates fanfic. While creation isn’t light specific, taking the info and substance from an anime and rehashing it into his own stories sounds like a rogue of light. He is later a servant to Celeste, who feeds him lies and misfortune; he could be called a Page of Void at that point, which is fitting with Celestia’s void aspect.

Ishimaru Kiyotaka - Knight of Time

-passively exploits and serves through time. He’s very strict about time, being on time and using time wisely. Not just for himself though, he wants everyone to hold the same policies he has. He wants to have an environment where everyone is able to give it their all- he wants to exploit the time he has in order to serve everyone. His inversion is Thief of Space, and I think we see this in “Kiyondo Ishida”, as he seems to steal Alter Ego’s creation to add another dimension to himself. And- this is just my opinion- I also think he ghosts his inversion pretty often even before that, due to the impact of the disreputation of his grandfather and his vehement dislike of “geniuses”.

Kirigiri Kyouko - Maid of Mind

-actively creates and heals logic and decisions. She eluded me for a while tbh. I thought light first, but while she focuses on finding the truth, other information isn’t as important, and she doesn’t seem to match any other markers of light. Instead she seems more like Terezi, a mind player who likes law and detective work. Kyouko creates a path of decisions that surround a crime, and she uses logic to help Makoto make the right choices. She is outwardly cold and focuses on controlling her emotions, which makes me suspect she ghosts her inversion as a Bard of Heart due to her lost sense of self.

Kuwata Leon - Rogue of Breath

-passively steals and relocates freedom and direction. I understand him to have only come into himself recently. I think for most of his life he was ghosting as a Page of Blood, getting served bonds and obligations that he didn’t really want but exploiting them so he was free to do things other than study. When he was accepted at Hope’s Peak, he finally took his freedom and decided that he was going to do what he was driven to do, which is pursuing music. Rogue also fits into the outcast archetype of his alternative/punk style of clothes and personality.

Oowada Mondo - Bard of Blood

-passively destroys bonds and obligations. Blood is everything to him, his brother and his gang are most important, and his word and his promises are solid. But his brother died for his recklessness, he lied about it, he killed Chihiro which exposed her secret even though he tried to cover it up, and he broke Taka’s spirit when he died. He destroys the bonds around him passively, without meaning to, and his secret and his act of killing were both fairly out of the blue. No one really expected that of him- certainly not Kiyotaka, and that fits a bard’s MO.

Oogami Sakura - Maid of Blood

-actively creates relationships and bonds. She is defined by her bond to her family and her bond to her destiny. She is devoted to growing stronger, which made me think life, but she’s growing stronger to fulfill her duty and keep the respect of her family, not to overcome obstacles. That aspect though, the desire to help everyone else become stronger too, that’s very maid/sylph. She’s fairly passive, but definitely not passive enough for sylph, and she tends to focus more on creating new bonds especially regarding ones with herself, rather than healing preexisting ones.

Maizono Sayaka - Mage of Void

-actively knows misfortune and secrets. She tells Makoto that she’s known from a young age that she will have to do anything to reach her dreams, and she acts on her understanding of that misfortune which leads to her death. She focuses more on the misfortune and nothingness part of void, acutely understanding that if she falls out of relevancy, she’s done for. She also jokes with Makoto about being a psychic, knowing his unheard thoughts, which plays into the prophet archetype of a Mage, and knowing the unknown.

**Fukawa Touko & Genocider Sho - Page of Heart & Bard of Heart

-actively exploits and is served emotions and self-identity. Touko… has some issues. She is very concerned about herself, who she is, and how she’s perceived, which is the trademark of a heart player. She is actually good at using emotions to get what she wants. She gets people to stay away from her but also be concerned about her at the same time, not to mention she managed to get Byakuya to let her tail him around which I still don’t understand how. She keeps a strong facade up due to her insecurities and necessary caution due to Genocider Sho.

-passively destroys sense of self and emotions. Sho destroys emotions in a literal sense, by killing anyone she “crushes” on, and she destroys Toko’s sense of self through emotions by leaving her to come to at murder scenes, therefore forcing her to stay paranoid and keep a huge secret. Doesn’t really do it intentionally, as Sho tells Makoto that it’s the same thing as a soccer player kicking a ball, it’s just nature.

Hagakure Yasuhiro - Seer of Hope

-passively understands possibilities and beliefs. Even when he’s pessimistic, he’s optimistic by everyone else’s standards. He is always able to see some better possibility… whether it’s true or whether others believe him remains to be seen. He definitely fits the somewhat far-fetched but unshakable beliefs profile that Hope players have. And he’s definitely knowledgeable about his, uh, profession in a way that seers usually are.

Ikusaba Mukuro - Knight of Space

-passively exploits and serves through space. This was a hard one, partly because we don’t see a lot of her, so it’s long; I used a lot of process of elimination and, well, vibes. Space is about physical matter, size and location, creation, and beginnings. At an early age, she ditched her family in Europe in order to join an elite mercenary group in the Middle East. She is extremely proficient in hand-to-hand, melee, and ranged combat, though she admits that she was never good at planning ahead and strategizing. She was also able to accurately portray Junko, the Ultimate Fashionista. Those three things point me towards space, as her past is about location and beginnings, ranged weapons are about distance, planning ahead is about time which is her opposite, and acting as her sister is an act of creation and physicality, not to mention that clothes have a link to the space aspect as well. Most of the classes don’t really fit her, but the little personality she has is devoted to serving her sister, serving her organization before that, and in DR IF, serving Makoto. Knights are also fighters, obviously.

Enoshima Junko - Thief (Lord?) of Rage

-actively steals rage and limitations. Junko is a lot. Just, a lot. I’m actually leaning towards giving her the “Lord” title because honestly, the level of embodiment that she has over the rage aspect is unparalleled. But I just don’t know enough about the master classes for me to feel comfortable enough with that. So I’m going with thief instead. She definitely gets off on everyone else’s despair and sets them up so they have limited possibilities in the killing game. She takes from them and takes from them and leaves them with some hope just to finally steal that too.

#danganronpa #homestuck #classpects #danganstuck #danganronpastuck #drstuck

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starfirette · 4 years

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Hello! Can u please write Helena Bertinelli with a Fem!reader tomboy that's a muay thai fighter and look like super cool and cold,but in the apartment its a very soft and lovely girlfriend with Helena? (And how the birds will react when them met her) Thank you,I Love you writing and HELENA IS SUCH A BAE!!! THIS GAL NEED MORE LOVE AND SUPPORT!❤

masterlist | word count: who fucking knows | 🏷 @kurreapormaranet @emofairygay | a/n: ;0 There are some things you might want to look up on youtube so you have a general idea of what’s happening. Clinch positions, tactical stand ups, thips

The rink’s seats filled massively, stretching to every wall that bounced the cheering back and forth.

The overall mission seemed simple, but it had Helena dreading this moment since Harleen explained what needed to happen.

The trust fund brat of the devilish Rossini family kidnapped the Rossini’s pride and joy: their little baby girl, Ayala. Ayala Rossini, four years old, is the Brat’s younger half sister and the new written in heir of the Rossini fortune. The Brat, Carmen, had been written out of the will after she kidnapped the new little bird Batman was keeping under his wing. She’d been sloppy and left behind all marks of her family’s (unbeknownst) involvement. She made serval costly mistakes which included Batman’s uncovering of the Rossini family’s plans of Gotham, Star, and Jump city. Half the family became arrested.

Carmen was all but disowned by her father, whom she already resented for marrying another woman so quick after the death of her mother. To get her revenge, she kidnapped Ayala.

So, Mr and Mrs Rossini employed Harley and her rag tag team of anti-hero thugs.

To get Ayala back, the girls would have to go undercover.

Their heroic deed would get them 30k each, so that was good enough. The Rossinis are precise and focuses; they’d been willing to pay as much as they had to in order to ensure the safety of their little crime lord baby.

Now Harley had her connections. She knew a guy who knew a guy who saw a friend with a girl outside of the 31 Flavors ice cream shoppe, and this girl just happened to know that Carmen spends her free time hosting epic fights in the secret tunnels of Smallville.

It’s a long ways away from Gotham, but is a perfect place to host such gatherings. The fights are frightfully violent and brutal. Also very illegal. No one would ever know that beneath the wheat and corn fields of Lil’ Ol’ Smallville county lays an intricate mafia maze.

Carmen Rossini is notorious for entertaining the winners to a “fine dinner with wine”. The rumors go that she runs an entire harem of Thai Fighting women, using them for sexual favors and personal security.

The entire mission is actually depending on that rumor.

The plan was to send in Dinah as a participant in the rink and hope she would win and earn the attention of Carmen.

But then Dinah got bronchitis. It was a nasty case, too, in which she wouldn’t stop coughing and hacking up green stuff into tissues.

The entire thing would have been called off if you hadn’t admitted that you are, in fact, trained in Muay Thai.

You’re positive that Helena would have rather kept this a secret, because she doesn’t like putting you in harms way. It’s a nuisance to have the world’s most protective girlfriend. Heaven forbid you even get a paper cut, else she’d make you wear rubber gloves while you read a book.

The entire group (save Helena) jumped for the chance to replace Dinah with you. You’d do perfect, Harley said, sounding so confident.

You intended to be flawless in the ring.

You’d not competed since high school, when Muay Thai was still just a recreational hobby. You’d had your wins and losses, but that was before you grew up to spend majority of your time fighting mafia crime lords.

Once Dinah officially relinquished her role of the mission, you took to the heavy bags. The repetitions became intense and harsh in the following weeks. You spent every night limping into bed.

Your sweet whispers that begged Helena for a soothing massage fell onto her deaf ears. She is stubborn, and she had been attempting to force you out of this competition since the day you’d agreed to it.

You were not afraid of Carmen, or anyone else she’d make you fight against. For the sake of the little Ayala, you would do this. Besides, you tell yourself, what’s the worst that could happen? With the Birds and their abilities, there isn’t much that could happen.

Nothing would slide through the cracks.

Hopefully.

The day did come faster than you’d imagined, though. The drive to Smallville was tense, especially in the backseat where Helena was frostily ignoring you.

Harleen was road raging, passing every trucker on the two way road that didn’t exceed 65 miles an hour.

“You know the speed limit is 45, right?” Montoya asked after she had taken a long drag of a cigarette. She had her legs propped up on the dash. Between her and Harley sat Cass, who was oblivious to the chaos around her as she sang along to a pop Spanish song. “Yeah, and?” Harley quipped. She cast her bright eyes towards Montoya, a wicked smile playing on her lips.“You gonna arrest me?”

Montoya couldn’t do much but sigh in defeat. If Harley didn’t mind crashing, then she didn’t either.

Between the bickering and the loud singing of the three front passengers, you and Helena were sitting silently in the very back seats. Your head was leaned up against the window which rattled as the tires of Harley’s ‘64 Starfire rolled across the gravely road.

Helena had been refusing to speak to you since the fight you got into last night. It was a real fight. She’s made it clear that she’s against you fighting in Carmen’s ring, and is especially against you joining her harem.

You’d first thought she was afraid of disloyalty; you had promised her that you wouldn’t ever cheat on her, even if it was for a mission. But it became revealed that’s not what Helena was worried about.

She feared for your life. She fears for your life every single day. No matter how small of a task, she can’t help but worry. She lost her mother, father, brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles; everyone. She’d been so helpless. She could only watch as she became the sole Bertinelli.

Helena couldn’t live on if something happened to you.

The fight ended on a confusing note. It didn’t end, per say, and you two did sleep in the same bed. However, neither of you has said a word to each other. You tried this morning, but she’d given you the snippy, cold shoulder.

As much as you hate putting her through so much anxiety, you know that you can’t back down. A girl’s life is at stake; it’s not the money you care about. Not to mention Carmen Rossini is about to make the top 50 worst criminals in Gotham County.

Harley rolled the car to a stop around a patch of gravel and dust. Everyone climbs out, rocks crunching under their shoes as they stretch and look around.

“Where is it?” Cass asks, shoving her hands in the pockets of her loose denim jacket. Her chapped lips are stained blue from the tootsy pop that she’d crunched on in the car. The soggy stick now hung from her lips, as if she had been imitating Montoya’s cigarette.

Harley locked, double checked, then re locked, then triple checked her car. She turned around, using her hands to shield her vision as she scanned the open wheat fields. “Dunno,” she admitted. “I guess I supposed someone woulda been here to meet us.”

You shifted on your feet. You wanted to try and make Helena happy before you’d at least go inside and get in the ring. The only issue is, she’ll only be happy if your forfeit now.

You would not.

Across the way, by a few yards at most, a rustling came through the wheat that came at least up to your hips.

A young man emerged; he approached the Birds with a guarded look that furrowed his thick, blond eyebrows. “You are Carmen’s guests, yes?”

He spoke with a thick accent. His honey blond hair contrasted his coffee brown features. He had a handsome face with a strong jaw, but something about him seemed off. He seemed intimidated despite being taller and broader than most.

“We are,” you answered for the Birds. “I am Y/n. I am the contestant.”

The man beckons you all forward. Helena glared at him, her hand steadily tapping the outside of her thigh. She was prepared to draw her gun and shoot anyone that could get in her way. In your way.

You tasted a bitter foam in your mouth as you attempted to stop Helena without raising too much attention.

“We––I––am here for the Carmen’s...event.”

The honey blond man tallied the Birds on his fingers, visibly distressed. “I do not thinka’ Miss Rossini expected so many of you...”

After a brief, strangled silence, the man shook his head and waved his arm along to escort you. “The bunker is just this way,” he explained. Harley and Cass walked after him.

Helena meets your eyes. Her gaze is firm, and maybe even angry. No way could you defuse that situation while still heading into the rink.

The wheat and grass crunched under your boots as you marched across the pace-by-pace clearing. A trap door in the ground lifted up swiftly, silently, as if they grease the hinges every damn day.

You remembered how this turned out for Suzie Salmon; casting one more look over your shoulder, you assured yourself with the presence of Helena.

Down the hatch, under the ground, you, Harley, Cass, Helena, and Mr Cannoli over here shuffled down the hall to a big dressing room. The entire layout felt more like a stadium then an underground crime rink. The dressing room has lush sofas and fur blankets; in the corner a SodaStream is mounted on an Ikea book table.

“Miss Rossini will join you shortly,” Cannoli-guy told you, nodding his head regally. He bowed out of the room, shutting the heavy oak door after him.

Cass jumped on the sofa. She sprawled out over the furs, kicking her muddy Chuck Taylors up. “Luxury.”

Harley snipped to Cass to get her dirty little feet off the merchandise.

You took a seat in the swivel chair in front of the large mirror. It looked like pure Broadway with the heavy lightbulbs that wreathed the glass.

“Can’t say they don’t know how to entertain a guest,” Harley squealed as she migrated to the SodaStream. “They got homemade cream soda!”

Cass jumped off the sofa to run after Harley.

Instead of facing you, Helena took a heavy seat on the couch. Her legs spread out, looking spectacularly muscular in her tight, black pants.

Unfortunately, you’re too annoyed with her to go lounge in her lap.

As much as you’d like to make amends, you know the only way to do that would be to back down. You’re going into that rink.

The door flew open at the second Harley had poured herself and Cassie a drink.

Carmen Rossini strutted in and you stared in awe. You tried not to let your jaw drop. Tall, voluptuous. Her hair is wavy auburn, her eyes deepest green.

She looked at you immediately. Reaching out for you as if you were the messiah, she chuckled. “You’re even cuter in person! Oh, sweetie, you––you do know how to drive a hard bargain. Your agent Harleen contacted me, where is she?”

Harley waved her hand from the corner. “That would be me. Ain’t Y/n a real figure?”

Scowling, Helena crossed her legs. She glared up at Carmen, and you remembered that Carmen is doing what Helena hates the most; complimenting you.

It’s not so much that Helena doesn’t like that you receive compliments; it’s just that she prefers giving them to you.

“I’m so happy to see you all here tonight,” Carmen said, clapping her hands loudly. “There’s nothing more exciting than tonight’s event. Did you know,” she cooed as she ‘boop’ed your nose, “that I’ve got people betting about two million dollars that you’ll win? I am so, so pleased that you’ve chosen to make your debut in my arena.”

You nod, your neck stiff. “I guess I’m excited?” you mumbled.

Carmen snapped her fingers. She signaled to one of her lackies to come forward. A box Is presented at your feet.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought you a little something. A uniform of your own, courtesy of moi. Don’t you love it? I had your photos analyzed by a fashion expert, and they designed your shorts to compliment you perfectly.”

The high waisted, Thai shorts are a deep ivory shade, with black flowers sewn into the design. They’re the most beautiful Thai shorts you’d ever seen! Your own were cute, but simple, considering that you didn’t usually think to be a fashionista while working out.

“They’re amazing,” you admitted. Over the top? Definitely. Did you expect anything else? Honestly, you’re not sure. You weren’t sure what to expect.

“Oh! I almost forgot.” Carmen, as she smiled, reached into the deep pocket of her red silk kimono-blouse. In her hands is a thickly wound prajoud, made of fine threads and paracord. The black and red jumped out at you like an old friend.

“I hope I got the rank right?”

“You did,” you say as you took the prajad from Carmen. “I could have brought my own if you’d asked.”

“It’s really not a big deal, my darling,” Carmen purred. She ran her hand through your hair, taking note of the silky feeling of each strand. “I will be watching. There will be people outside the door waiting to escort you to the arena when you’re done dressing.”

Her fingers are heavy with her bejeweled rings. The heavy tear shaped gems get tangled in your hair.

“You have ten minutes,” Carmen adds.

Helena glowered after her as she flitted out of the room. Her heels clacked down the hallway following the click of the door shutting in place.

Montoya took a long drag of her cigarette before she chortled.“You just gonna let her mark her territory like that?”

Helena didn’t say anything.

“Oi, Katniss,” Harley said loudly.

Helena’s cloudy eyes finally look to her friend. “What?”

“Carmen Rossini basically stole Y/n from you, and you let her!”

As you pulled out of your jeans, you sent Harley a little glare. “No one owned me to begin with,” you snapped.

“Hey, I’m all for women’s rights,” Harley exclaimed. “But it just seemed like—,”

“I know what it seemed like,” you snapped. “That’s the entire goddamn point, isn’t it? Get in her good graces?”

Case choked back her soda. “If that’s your idea of getting in Carmen’s creepy ‘good graces’ you gotta do better than that. You didn’t act sexy or flirt back at all!”

Helena stood to her feet. She brushed down the front of her black zip-up sweater. “I’m waiting outside,” she declares before stomping out with a frown wrung on her mouth.

Harley grimaced as the door slammed shut.

“Kid, come on,” Montoya sighed.

“I’m right,” Cass scowled. “You know that I am. We knew from the start that in order to get the little girl back, sexual favors would probably have to be granted.”

You pulled up your shorts. “Can everyone shut up?” You asked.

“What’s that?” Cass proceeded to ask, given she couldn’t talk about Carmen anymore. She pointed at the arm band that lay over the counter.

“Prajoud,” you tell her. Thank you pulled out of tour shirt. The heavy duty sports bra was already in place, but it gave you major uniboob.

“What does it do?” Cass asked again. Unable to contain her curiosity, she grabbed it off the vanity and fiddled with it.

“It’s like a belt,” you explained. “Instead of wearing a black belt, I wear a black prajad.”

“Who come up with that?” Cass asked.

“Uhm, Thai people?” Harley said as though it should be obvious. She snorted and jerked her thumb towards Cass. “Get a load of this guy.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s alright to ask questions, guys, just try not to be annoying. ‘M a little stressed out already.”

Harley took a final gulp of her soda. “Well, I guess we know who’s not getting action tonight. And that’s Y/n!”

“Why is Helena so upset anyways? Because Carmen was flirting?”

“No,” Harley explained. “See, she’s angry because Y/n’s going out and doing this fight, one, without asking her to begin with, two, for some other little kid, and three, with a evil Italian mafia tigress. She’s projecting her childhood fear that she’ll never be able to protect anyone she loves. She’s also rash, irritable, and possessive, so it’s just a cherry on top that the plan includes Y/n using her charms to sway Carmen.”

“Bravo,” you plainly say. “It’s almost like you’re a doctor or something.”

“Yeah,” Harley grinned. “Or something.”

You pulled the prajad over your forearm. You pulled the band tight, holding the laces in your mouth so you could knot it tight with one hand. You looked in the mirror, unsure of what to think of yourself.

You kicked your boots off next.

In socks, you turned to look at Harley and Cass. “Let’s do this,” you sighed.

Helena had been waiting loyally outside, leaned up against the jamb. Her eyes flitted up and down your figure, before rolling up towards the ceiling. “Let’s do this,” you said, sounding as if you’d already lost.

Marching down the hall in tow of the honey blond Italian, you tried to make eye contact with Helena. She was good at ignoring you. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s angry, stressed, or both.

Riddled with anxiety, you wish that she would look at you, or hold your hand at the very least.

At the entrance of the arena, you could see it was filled massively to the brim of its walls. You hadn’t realized how far underground you really are until you looked at the expansive seating. The rink’s seats filled massively, stretching to every wall that bounced the cheering back and forth.

You stepped to the stairs that wound up to the cage. You could smell the sweat and the matts; above the sound of the crowd cheering, you could hear your blood rushing fast in your ears.

“Find Ayala,” you muttered in Harley’s ears. “I don’t want to be here longer than we have to be.”

Her blue eyes sparkled with mischief, but they were momentairly dulled by a silent question. “I thought...?”

“No,” you said firmly. “We shouldn’t be here any longer than we have to be,” you tell her. “I’ll stay here, I’ll do my thing; you take everyone and look for that girl. If you’re not done by the time the match is over, I’ll distract Carmen.”

Harley couldn’t respond by the time you were dragged up the stairs. Outside the cage’s gate, you were given a little table at which you could rest at. It had a pitcher of ice water, some glasses, a washcloth, and a bottle of brandy. You took a large drink of the brandy first. You peeled off your socks.

It felt like a blur as you stepped into the cage.

Your opponent was your size; she looked your weight, too. You suppose that’s fair, at least. It’s not like in the movies. The real competitions are done by weight and height.

You turned your head to give one last glance to your friends.

Helena stood beyond the cage, her hand resting over the gun holster. Her eyes were fixated on you.

You had to look away.

Tying your hair up in a tight bun, you walked out onto the mat. Your opponent did the same; meeting you half way, you two shook hands.

You didn’t exchange names; that would only make it harder.

“The rules,” a voice boomed around the stadium, “are there are no weapons to be permitted in the arena. Please watch as the fighters return to their corners then begin the match on the sound of the bell. The match will consist of two rounds, each lasting seven minutes.”

You hovered in the corner of the cage. You stretched and jogged in place. You have enough training for this. You do. You know that you can do it; hopefully, you will.

The bell rang. You take a massive sprint out into the middle of the ring where your opponent had already paced out.

You wound up a punch. Your feet lifted off the mat as you leap into the air, and you delivered the blow to the side of her face.

Her teeth crunched under the impact. It was such a hit that you saw it spew out of her mouth, and hit the cage.

The crowd exploded into a frenzy.

Hovering at your face your hands remained in constant motion. Her kicks were well calculated and her movements tactical. She gave away all of her tricks, though, by looking twice at the target she would next go for. If she looked at your side once too many times, you would crouch and use your arms to block your ribcage.

The sweat that built up made the more precise attacks difficult. Your punch began sliding off her face, keeping you staggering forward, and in her wide open range.

You were struck once, twice, then thrice on your left cheek. It sent blood and saliva dribbling down your chin.

Your prajad began to slip as you struggled to regain your balance.

The girl’s long leg extended forward. Her foot jabbed a strong thip into the center of your stomach, practically digging against your bladder.

The bell rang, then, marking the end of the first round.

You fell into your corner with a wheezing gasp. You crawled for the little table. You drank directly from the pitcher.

You looked back to the crowd, half expecting to see a flash of unfamiliar faces.

Helena still remained at the ringside. Her hands are clenched through the cage, and her eyes are desperate to meet yours. You were confused. Why hadn’t she left with Harley? Did Harley not need her? Or did she want to stay and watch?

You felt stronger with her just a few yards away.

You staggered to your legs, where your knees wobbled like jello on a plate.

The two minutes of rest time had ended, and the bell rang once more. You slid back rather than go for her first.

She sauntered to you like a bear, her shoulders hunched and her fists close to her face. She swung hooks and uppercuts that you could just barely dodge. You were close to slipping backwards a few times.

“Y/n, watch out!” Helena shouted suddenly.

You couldn’t see the girl racing towards you like a battering ram through your blurry vision. Her fist slammed over your temple. You swore you could feel your brain tumbling around your skull as you fell to the floor.

You clutched your ear with your bare hands. Pain gushed out of you like water. You thought you could see it, visibly, as it poured down bright green and crystalline.

It wasn’t there; it was the spots dancing in front of you. Disorientation is a real bitch.

One tactical standup later, you’re back up on your feet. You pushed yourself forward, forcing the remaining energy you had out of your hands. You grabbed the girl by her long pony tail and dragged her into a tight clinch. She attempted to swim out of it; the friction of her wrists against your neck burned.

You tugged her down, driving a sharp knee into her stomach. She stayed in your clinch for a long time, gasping for air as she couldn’t evade the knees. You finally released her. She staggers back. She falls onto her ass, visibly shaken up and at a loss for breath.

The crowd began to scream at you. Some did a countdown, others urged the other girl to get back up.

It was too late for her.

The bell rang, marking the end of the seven minutes, as well as the second round. She had lost, and you had won.

You limped towards her. Despite your own pain, you lifted the girl onto her feet.

“Good game?” she rasped.

“Hell yeah,” you wheezed.

It felt like the ultimate orgasm to go back and gulp down the water. The cold, damp washcloth made a good compress for your busted lip. You judged by the twitching of your left eyelid that you had a pretty sizable welt there.

Helena ran to meet you as you limped down the stairs out of the cage. She threw her arms around you tightly. “You’re alright,” she gasped.

You tried to hug her back. Your arm hung loosely over her lower back as you tried to laugh. “Did you doubt that I would be?” you asked her. “Where’s Harley and Cass? Montoya?”

“They went to find the girl,” Helena said in your ear. “I couldn’t leave you...I had to stay and watch. I had to make sure.”

She pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. “Let’s go,” you said firmly, “before Carmen comes for us.”

Helena helped you leave the arena. By the time you vanished, the stadium was already announcing it’s second match, featuring a woman named Selina. The people went into a hectic frenzy of excitement when Selina’s name was announced over the speakers. You knew as you were walking out she would never be able to escape this place.

Honey-blond-haired Italian guy jogged to keep up with you. “Miss Carmen asks that you wait in the dressing room,” he called out. “Yeah, yeah,” Helena called out. “We’ll be there.”

He followed you down the hallway, keeping several paces back to maintain a steady watching distance. He paused as he watched you and Helena head straight into the dressing room.

Sitting on the sofa inside is Harley, Cass, and a little girl sleeping in Harley’s arms. You were shocked. For a four year old girl, Ayala was incredibly small and fragile looking. Her olive skin and auburn hair is just like her elder sister’s. The hollows beneath her eyes are dark and colored by her greenish veins.

“Let’s scadadle,” Harley hissed as she rose to her feet, though struggling to keep Ayala in her arms.

You all rushed out of the hallway, quickly as to make it before Carmen could come back from the arena.

“Where’s the exit?” Cass asked.

“It’s this way,” Helena says. She pointed straight down the hallway. “The car’s waiting for us above the trap door.”

“Yeah, unless someone stole it,” Cass mocked. “What if we get locked in? Like in Hotel California?”

You could hardly begin to understand what Cass was saying. Her words were jumbles of sounds and her figure a blur of her dark hair and red jacket.

“We’re not getting locked in,” Harley exclaimed. “Let’s just get outta here!”

Helena climbed up the ladder first. She punched the door up, then open. “Give me the kid,” she said quietly.

Harley struggled to lift Ayala up.

Helena scooped her easily into her strong arms. Ayala stirred awake and whined as she became more and more aware. “I want to go home,” she mumbled, her voice quiet and empty.

“We’re taking you home, pumpkin,” Helena assured the little girl. “I’ve got you.”

As Cass was going up the ladder, a loud clatter arose down the tunnel. “Uh oh, spaghetti-os,” Harley whistled. She pushed you up the ladder next. “I’ll meet you guys up there,” she promised, sounding entirely confident. “Montoya,” she whistled between her teeth. “Feel like doing some target practice?”

It was the first time all day that Montoya smiled.

As you climbed up, you heard Harley’s shrill laugh between the shots of two, little handguns.

“Into the car,” you wheezed to Cassie. She looped her arms around your waist to help you limp into your seat. “Buckled in?” you heard Helena ask the little girl. She looked so shy despite all that’s going on. The curls of her hair were brushed behind her ear as Helena held her tightly. “You’re going back to your parents.”

Harley came running out seconds later. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she exclaimed.

“You have the keys!” Cassie shouted back.

Harley jumped into the drivers seat. She honked the horn loudly. “Renee, let’s move it!”

Montoya was limping a few feet away, struggling to keep up Harley’s pace. She crawled inside and as soon as she did, Harley pressed the gas, and sped away.

“Smoking is so bad for you, you know that, right?” Harley chastised. “Maybe if you just used the nicotine patches I bought you for Christmas, then you wouldn’t have so much trouble keeping up with us.”

“Take the patches,” Montoya huffed, “and shove them up your ass.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You leaned back into the headrest of the rear seats. Helena held Ayala beside you, stroking her hair gently as she held her cellphone to Ayala’s ear. Her parents were on the other end, and you could hear the cries of relief.

You met Helena’s gaze, and you managed a smile on your busted mouth.

“I love you,” you mouth to her.

“I love you, too,” she replied.

#helena bertinelli x reader #helena bertinelli imagine #my helena babes #crossbow killer #crossbow killer x reader #huntress x reader #huntress imagine #dceu imagine #dceu x reader #birds of prey x reader #birds of prey imagine #birds of prey #mary elizabeth winstead #starfirette writes

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jackdawyt · 4 years

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Given that Tevinter Nights is just over one month old, and the majority of you have had a decent chance to pick it up and give it a good read, I want to share my full-spoiler predications for Dragon Age 4 based on many new aspects Tevinter Nights brings to the ever-so expanding universe of Dragon Age. As a quick preface, this sort of video is definitely going to be more of an opinion piece, sharing my own thoughts and marvels on everything Tevinter Nights foreshadows for the future game.

I encourage all of your thoughts and theories too, so share them down below! But, without further ado, I’ll start by sharing my predictions on the main tone of Dragon Age 4.

Tone:

The Dragon Age games have always followed a Dark Fantasy approach to storytelling with morally grey choices, excessive gore and truly twisted plot-beats like ravenous Broodmothers, and Hawke’s mother’s macabre death, which was oh so gruesome and a pinnacle example of Dragon Age’s dark fantasy tone.

While some may argue Dragon Age: Inquisition was the weakest in this dark fantasy department, Tevinter Nights revitalises any hope for the return of deeper and darker themes in the next Dragon Age game.

Y’see Tevinter Nights, acting as a prologue for Dragon Age 4, introduces a bounty of dark fantasy storytelling that will certainly push the future plots in a most diabolical way.

Introduced in this book, we had plenty of things that would give even a darkspawn the heebie jeebies!

From: evil twisted human/centipedal/insectoid monstrosities, demon worshipping cults, ancient wicked beings, (“Cekorax”), death and blood magic, murder machinations, eldritch horrors, domestic abuse, inhumane treatment, ghastly apparitions, demonic possession, and plenty more hard-hitting themes that are paving the way for Dragon Age 4’s story.

And if none of those themes satiated your own dark desires for the next Dragon Age game, well, don’t forget about the main narrative focusing on stopping a prideful and powerful elven mage who can take shape into the wicked Dread Wolf attempting to commit mass-genocide for the sake of his long-lost people. Oh, not to mention the fact that this elf could’ve broken up with you too, causing your heart to ache every single second as he tears down Thedas, and the love you once shared together...

With that said, Dragon Age 4’s tone should certainly take the franchise back to its dark fantasy roots if it follows the layout Tevinter Nights has laid ahead. Let’s move on to the next game’s potential locations.

Locations:

First up, The Tevinter Imperium.

From the Capital City Minrathous, home to the Magisterium to Elven tombs lurking in The Silent Planes. There are many prominent locations that could make for a worthy visit within the Imperium. However, with the ongoing Qunari Antaam invasion ransacking many of Tevinter’s northern cities, many of the Imperium’s major holdings will be torn by the current war and preparing for a siege.

Not to mention the other major epidemic on the Imperium and its people - the scheme Solas has to destroy the veil. Not that this pain will be exclusive to the Imperium, as by gum, it will hurt all of Thedas.

But, the entirety of Tevinter’s land was once in possession of the ancient elves during the elvhen times. Solas’s scheme seeks a redemption of his people, and so a reclamation of the land is merely inevitable.

The people of Tevinter are not only evading a brutal religious conquest against their homes, but an elven God’s conflict too.

With so much contention impending, the Tevinter Imperium is critically endangered. Can Tevinter’s most contrived government save its very people, or will we see this once great Empire stumble into chaos?

Next up, Nevarra.

The main ongoing conflict in Nevarra regards the Van Markham, Pentagasht and many other nobles fighting for their own right to the throne, as King Marcus’s reign will soon end with no heir to rule after him.

However, just outside of the Capital; Nevarra City, lies the Mortalitasi’s Grand Necropolis, a stronghold and morgue built into the side of a mountain to hold Neverra’s elite family tombs.

In a very recent catastrophic ritual held in the Grand Necropolis caverns, the Dread Wolf attacked the Mortalitasi, sending demons to stop the ritual and kill the rest of the mages. In a desperate effort, the surviving mages sealed the caverns with no trace of the invading demons.

Investigating the Dread Wolf’s movements may play a huge part in the next plot, and having the Mortalitasi as allies could change the tide of battle. So, Nevarra’s Grand Necropolis would certainly make for a grand visit.

And then there’s Hunter Fell, a small town just west of Nevarra City, where a tavern called ‘The Teahouse’ appeared to be the last known location that Solas had made a physical appearance. Another worthy place to investigate further plot ties.

Throughout the lands of Nevarra, there are at least elven more ancient elven/dwarven thaigs that are built into Nevarran mountains, to our knowledge, only one has been opened and it contained horrific mutilated creatures followed by a gas that had a stench of the ocean.

Nevarra and its surrounding areas are ripe with plot lines and narrative potential that will need to have a huge impact in the next Dragon Age game.

Following that, we’ve got Antiva.

Just like Tevinter, the majority of Nothern Antiva is under widespread invasion by the Qunari Antaam. However, quite unlike Tevinter, Antiva doesn’t exactly have their own dedicated military forces, instead the country relies on the Anitvan Crows to take action.

The leaders of the Antivan Crows have their own inner conflict as one of the eight major houses leading the crows decided to sign a contract with the Qunari for a peaceful invasion, in which Antiva would be ‘spared’ in exchange for the deaths of every other talon.

The talons discovered this treachery and put the situation to bed with the death of the Kortez family talon. With the peaceful conflict in shambles, a very much hostile Qunari invasion lingers on the horizon for Antiva.

Although the Anitvan Crows may make for a worthwhile trip to Antiva, who can say what will remain of the country when Dragon Age 4 arrives.

Lastly, we have The Anderfels.

To my knowledge, the most outstanding location The Anderfels has to offer is Fortress Weisshaupt, the headquarters of the Grey Wardens.

There’s been a lot of talk regarding the Anderfels Wardens, that they have a secret, or they’ve discovered something, or they’re all dead. henceforth, Fortress Weisshaupt has cut communications to the other Wardens across Thedas, remaining silent and alone.

Could this sworn secret silencing the Wardens from the other groups be the return of Griffons? Have they discovered even more intelligent darkspawn, perhaps another Magister of old, or are the Warden leaders fighting amongst themselves?

The search for this truth could make for a notable quest line in Dragon Age 4.

I’ll shuffle away from Rivan as a prominent location because I believe this country is intentionally neutral for many reasons that I’ll uncover in the next category.

With that, let’s talk about one of the biggest aspects that is going to make or break the next Dragon Age game.

The Protagonist:

Spy.

We’ve known for a fair while that Dragon Age 4’s previous iteration had the player prance around Tevinter as a spy, partaking in high risk, high reward heists. However, before major development picked up, the project was canned and the majority of its ideas were too.

It’s unknown if any of that previous work will make its way into the latest iteration, or if it’s all been scrapped.

But, before we shed a tear thinking about what Dragon Age 4 might’ve been based on the original iteration... If Tevinter Nights has taught me one thing, it’s that this spy role for our new protagonist still has plenty of potential. So, keep your daggers at the ready because I wouldn’t call playing as a spy off the table just yet.

As it stands, a spy is the biggest and best contender we have for our next character - chasing every lead after Solas, attempting to find a crack in his grand scheme, recovering intel and ancient artefacts, all the while being someone completely different than The Inquisitor. We’re a nobody, someone who can slip between the seams without garnering any attention.

Which is the perfect role to defeat Solas because he doesn’t know of both our existence, and weaknesses.

Tevintet Nights builds up a lot of espionage plotlines, introducing brand new factions in Thedas that are particularly interested in subterfuge and trickery. Or as I like to call it hankey-pankey. Each attempting to gather information to defeat Solas before he set’s Thedas ablaze.

So, because many major factions throughout Thedas operate a sole spy network, we have plenty of race origin stories for our next spy, conceptually.

Say we play as a human; we can be a member of the Tevinter Siccari. If we’re a dwarf, we can belong to the Carta. If we choose an elf, we could be an Ex-Fen'Harel Agent, and if we played as a Qunari, we could be a member of the Ben-Hassrath.

Satisfying each race with their own reconnaissance background, allowing the protagonist to have an already established understanding of Solas and his plan, so they can begin their journey of attempting to stop him.

Through heists and other risky missions, we could embark on a fast pace, tense narrative that’s more akin to a suicide mission. Very much different to the previous Dragon Age entries, however, completely logically given the tone of the predicted narrative.

And, Maker’s arse, I could go on with many more ideas for a spy protagonist, but we’ve got other concepts to move on to. If that doesn’t quench your thirst for potential spy dynamics in the next Dragon Age game, well I did create a dedicated video to this topic that you can check out.

Lord of Fortune (Treasure Hunter).

In the same direction as a stealthy spy, but rather quite different and certainly stricter, but has its own unique appeal (..) we could potentially play as a Rivani Lord of Fortune! More apropos, a distinct Treasure Hunter seeking fortune, wealth and any opportunity that pays well enough.

And perhaps the gig that pays well enough is to, without question, recover certain artefacts and idols that may be required in stopping an Elven God that wants to destroy the veil. However, that information is beyond our pay grade, and were not one to question a paid job.

And then, as things escalate, our Treasure Hunter finds themselves in a perilous situation, and they decide to take the hunt against the Dread Wolf, with more reason than just coin, but to fight for Thedas and their new family.

What marks a Lord of Fortune as significant is the fact that they’re from Rivan, a country we’ve not yet seen much of in Dragon Age, and somewhat of a neutral location for our next protagonist. As they make choices that may affect Tevinter or Nevarra, they won’t have a bias based on that being their home, they will be able to make a neutral choice based on the context given, and none other.

There were plenty of nods to the Lords of Fortune in Tevinter Nights. Regardless, if we’re not playing as one, we’ll certainly encounter one or two in the next game.

Executor.

And in a completely obscure, but necessary direction... how about playing as an Executor? A being, or person, or whatever the heck they are, from “beyond the sea.” This character style would grant the players with a new perspective on Thedas, and would allow new players to pick up the series, as you’d slowly learn about the narrative piece by piece, playing as someone who probably doesn’t know much about the world of Thedas, and would need somewhat of an education on the events of this world.

We don’t know much about the Executors at all, so what’s better way to discover them then actually playing as one?

The Inquisitor (Dual?).

As my final protagonist concept for Dragon Age 4, I feel it necessary as an Inquisitor fanboy to reiterate the ancient method many fans would like to see, and that is the dual protagonist mechanic. Allowing the next game to have two protagonists. As a TLDR, because I’ve talked about this before, but let's say we play as the returning Inquisitor for 20% of the game as they find loose ends on Solas, deal with diplomatic and political matters, and have more of a conversational style to gameplay. Then, we switch to our new protagonist who spends the rest of the game exploring Tevinter, building allies and attempting to stop Solas.

Putting this topic to bed, the Inquisitor needs to witness the end to Solas, whether peacefully or vengefully, he’s the Inquisitor’s friend, rival or romance. So, they need to be there to deal with him.

Potential Allies:

Anyhow, we’ve talked about the next protagonist, let’s explore some plot threads and briefly run through the factions we may, or may not have on our side depending on our choices in Dragon Age 4.

The Mortalitasi

Nevarra’s own death mages who’re responsible for mummifying the bodies of elite families using powerful necromancy and binding magic. It is said that the Mortalitasi are so powerful, they influence and sway the king’s decrees and decisions over the kingdom.

The Tevinter Siccari

The Imperium’s best shadow network, made of highly skilled and secretive agents who each come from slave families, they are formidable and honourable warriors.

The Qunari Ben Hassrath

The Qun’s dedicated spies and enforcers, they’re responsible for re-educating those not familiar with the Qun, however, the group are currently fixated on Solas’s movements. Reportedly The Ben Hassrath have the most knowledge about the Wolf than anyone else on Thedas, because of this, they remain a neutral party in Thedas’s war effort.

The Inquisition

Remnants of the Inquisition army continue the mission of their Inquisitor, with many agents enlisting to fight against an opposing threat.

The Carta

This crime syndicate has been investigating all matters concerning the blight that has become ‘bad for business’ in the dwarven kingdom, like the red lyriun idol.

The Executors

Mysterious beings who come from beyond the sea, they would rather not see this world come to an end, and so they too seek a demise to the Wolf.

The Antivan Crows

Antiva’s best and brightest hired assassins, who’ve recently denied the Qunari Antaam’s ‘peaceful’ contract for invasion. Now, they will fight for their country and its people.

The Grey Wardens

The legendary heroes of old are long gone, the group continues with incompetent leaders who stain the title Grey Warden. However, those who linger in Fortress Weishaupt have a secret, one that has not yet left the premise. Whatever that may be...

And I’m sure plenty more factions will arise; however, these were my main hot takes based on Tevinter Nights. With that, let’s discus the rivalling factions that will most likely be out for our blood in the next game.

Enemies:

The Qunari Antaam

The Qun, under the leadership of Sten as Arishock, stands divided. The Antaam, the Qun’s dedicated military branch has decided for themselves to invade Thedas without authorisation from the rest of the Qun. The zealot army sieges cities across Northern Tevinter and Antiva, continuing to rampage all of Thedas’s land until the people either kneel to the Qun or pay the price with their own blood. They will not stop until their mission is complete, and no one will get in their way, not even their own people.

Solas/Dread Wolf

Solas seeks to destroy the veil, destroying Thedas. He’s absorbed Mythal’s essence so he can rise as the horrific Dread Wolf, a creature who has taken residence in the Fade, with his own demon army whom serve him willingly.

Ancient Elves

Ancient and Dalish Elves have joined Solas’s ranks, known as the Cult of Fen’Harel, they abide by Solas’s every scheme and have begun to cause chaos for Thedas, like attempting to set up a calamity feud between the Qunari Ben Hassrath and Tevinter Kinsman. Who knows what they may do next?

Venatori Remnants

They tried to summon an ancient demon in Tevinter’s capital city, surely, they aren't over that plan just yet.

Main Story/Plot Points:

Now we get to the juicy story predications, where I get to speculate the heck out of many key plot aspects of Dragon Age 4’s narrative. So, hold on tight to your tinfoil hats!

The Red Lyrium Idol

The whereabouts of the Red Lyrium Idol are still quite the mystery, we’ve learned a great deal about this device, however, we still don’t know what it represents, and how significant it will be regarding Solas’s plan to destroy the veil. So, will we be embarking on a McGuffin style questline to find this idol before Solas gets it?

Let’s say we’re a spy journeying into epic heists, attempting to beat Solas to the finish line and destroy this idol before he gets it. Or, maybe this idol plot-point may be wrapped up by the time of Dragon Age 4’s launch, and we’ll be doing something else?

The point is, this idol is still a mystery and it needs solving, so by that measure, it’s probably going to have some involvement in Dragon Age 4.

Solas/Dread Wolf Antagonist

Based on what we know about the story going forward, Solas will most certainly be the next antagonist, that’s a given at this point unless the plot drastically changes and Mythal or The Titans, or a new evil takes that position. As it stands though, Solas seemingly is the big bad of Dragon Age 4.

And, he’s has already risen as the Dread Wolf, so that’s just grand, we’re already doomed! The plot will most likely focus around stopping Solas before he destroys the veil... if there even is a way to stop him.

As another obvious predication, I believe we may follow between two main choices throughout every action in the next game, those choices are: do we want to redeem Solas, or stop him. If our intention is to redeem Solas, then perhaps he’ll listen to what we’ve got to say, however, if we pursuit his death, then perhaps we’ll only be greeted by The Dread Wolf.

Allies

Regarding the main plot of defeating Solas, I believe we’ll be gathering more intel on the Dread Wolf by teaming up with many dedicated factions across Nothern Thedas. While some groups may join our ranks more willingly like the Mortalitasi, I believe we may have a few decisions between choosing one faction over another because of their own quarrels. Like choosing between the Tevinter Siccari and Qunari Ben Hassrath, each providing agents and intelligence in their own way against Solas, however, completely hostile to the other faction.

We’re going to need allies to stop Solas, there’s no way around that. Not every faction is going to get along, and magically unifying every divisive faction under one banner would be unrealistic and feel cheap in my opinion. If we can choose between key factions, there’d be a sense of contention throughout every single choice we could make.

As well as gathering and helping as many allies as possible who support our cause against the Dread Wolf, I have a few more main mission predictions like embarking on epic heists stealing and claiming Elven artefacts and Evanuris runes. And stopping key agents of Fen’Harel and their destructive plans for Thedas.

Side Plots:

Alongside our main story content, we’ve got plenty of side plots and threads that need to be explored. So, here’s a rapid list of some extra conflicts I think we’ll see in the next game.

The Grey Warden’s sudden silence at Fortress Weishaupt.

Aiding the Mortalitasi.

The Qunari Antaam’s invasion against Northern Thedas.

Uncovering Ghilinan’s Creations, Pre-Veil Monsters and Ancient Thaigs.

The Remnant Venatori Cult threat.

The mysteries concerning the Titans.

Companions:

And, now we get to the most subjective list, the roster of companions we may share this journey against Solas with.

Rogues:

I want to see Vaea, she’s my favourite character in the comics and she appeared in ‘Harold Had The Plan’. I know I speak for even the comic writers that she deserves a spotlight in the next game. The only problem is, she doesn’t kill, but heck, she could perform a support role in the group.

Next up, Scout Lace Harding. She’s been teased, but she deserves a comeback as a bigger role, and she can serve as a reminder of the Inquisition, filling the new protagonist in on previous events correlating to Solas.

And, Lucanis Dellamorte, an Antivan Crow assassin introduced in ‘The Wigmaker Job’. Although he has no interest in becoming First Talon, he’s said to be his grandmother’s favourite, and she intends on making him her heir.

Mages:

Vadis, an Altus Thief introduced in ‘Half Up Front’. She was disowned by her father because of her relationship with an elf. As of which, she’s a wayward traveller who came across a calamity scheme of Fen’Harel’s which would’ve caused an incredible feud between the Qun and Tevinter. Since stopping those responsible, and making herself known to the Dread Wolf, she’s headed to Kirkwall to meet Varric Tethras so she and her partner can strike back.

A Female Qunari. Patrick Weekes tweeted back in 2017 that this sort of character style would be a biggie because it’s someone they haven’t done before. I don’t have any character in mind because there were no significant female Qunari’s in Tevinter Nights, however, that doesn’t mean we can’t have a guess. We’ve had two previous warrior Qunari, and I think we’d all love to see an ex-sarrabas, wielding powerful Fade magic.

Philliam, a Bard! Is a scholar responsible for collecting and curating many texts in Thedas. His knowledge and penmanship would certainly be a large help, not to mention his dashing personality, he’s a Bard for Andraste’s sake!

Warriors:

Fenris, as a returning character from Dragon Age 2, I think Fenris is one of the most viable characters to return as a companion. His lyrium tattoos provide for a very unique combat style, and he’s got plenty of substance in Tevinter as he continues his blood trail of magisters. Not only that, he’s been setting slaves free and is personally involved in a red lyrium plot conducted by the Venatori remnants.

Grey Warden Ramesh is a man who has seen some true horrors in his life. Introduced in ‘The Horror of Hormak’, Ramesh has seen one of the many ancient thaigs that contain ancient elven nightmares, as he witnessed his partner sacrifice her life so he could escape. His mission stands to warn the rest of the Wardens of the remaining eleven thaigs.

“Hollix” is a Lord of Fortune introduced in “Luck in the Gardens”. They defeated a great tentacle monster lurking in the gardens of Minrathous, with the assistance of Dorian Pavus and Maevaris Tilani. Not only can they perfect the fine arts of theft, but “Hollix” makes for a great hunter and tracker.

Silly:

As for some sillier, but very much necessary companion predictions, I have a few more that I need to share:

A Nevarran Mortalitasi Skeleton, in the Grand Necropolis, the death mages have actual skeleton servants who do pretty much anything for their masters, being bound by a spell to serve for the rest of your days will do that to you. I say, if they’re already bound, why not have one too?

In the opposite direction, I’d like to see my Mabari Dog return. That is all.

How about an Executor? They’re such a mystery, if we’re not going to find out what’s behind their vyrantium robes any other way, then we may need to take a gander and see for ourselves.

And, lastly, I’d be silly not to ask for an Elven God companion.

In truth, these are just a few of my companion predications very much based on Tevinter Nights, I believe the next game will have a variety of different companions. The main takeaway from this section going forward is to expect the sort of character we haven’t already had, as Patrick Weekes stated.

Let me know your predictions down below, what you think we can predict for Dragon Age 4!

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