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incorrectbandofbrothersquotes · 3 years ago

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You Better, You Better, You Bet - Chapter 9

As Long as You’re Mine

Ron Speirs x Juliet Fletcher

Summary: Juliet Fletcher reaches a breaking point in her life. When she is at her absolute lowest, she meets Ron Speirs, and something happens between them that neither of them will ever forget.

Word Count: 4.1K

Tag List: @vintagelavenderskies @how-are-those-nuts-sarge @iilovemusic12us @hesbuckcompton-baby @tvserie-s-world @whovian45810 @50svibes @cagzzz107 @evelynshelby @piano-isnt-my-forte If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this update!

Warning(s): None :)

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

AO3 link

Chapter 9 let’s go!!!

“Okay, how does this sound?” Juliet asked Ron, who sat on her bed as she put together her story of the trial. He was careful not to recline, lest he disturb her pages of notes carefully organized atop the quilt. “Meredith Fisher confessed to the murder of six-year-old Peggy Lee in front of the courtroom before her trial began. Mrs. Fisher was arrested and charged with the murder in September of last year. Her lawyer, Mr. Harvey Cooper, originally planned to plead not guilty, but in a shocking turn of events, Mrs. Fisher herself admitted to the jury she killed Peggy Lee before even opening arguments could be made.”

“I’d read that,” Ron replied.

Juliet huffed and looked around her room at the Blue Boar. Papers littered the floor, pens were nowhere to be found, and her typewriter was mocking her. Now that the trial was finished - with such a dramatic twist - she was hard at work, trying to ensure she reported it just right. An impossible task, it felt like.

“Okay, but would you read it because I’m your girlfriend or because of the writing?” she asked.

“The writing,” he told her. “It’s simple, it explains everything.”

“It feels a bit long for the lead,” she said. “Perhaps I should put the bit about her arrest in the nut graph.”

“That does feel more like background information,” he agreed.

She pulled a pencil from behind her ear, scratched out the sentence, and began again. “So, it’d go like this - Meredith Fisher confessed to the murder of six-year-old Peggy Lee in front of the courtroom before her trial began. Her lawyer - I’m gonna take out his name and have that later - so, Her lawyer originally planned to plead not guilty, but in a shocking turn of events, Mrs. Fisher admitted to the jury she killed Peggy Lee before even opening arguments could be made. Then I’ll go into when she was arrested, the details of the murder, then the evidence the prosecution had prepared, and finish with her sentencing date. How’s that?”

“I think it’s perfect,” he said.

She chewed her lip. “Should I use the word shocking? I don’t want to tell the readers how to feel.”

“When she confessed, what was the first thing you heard?” he asked.

“Gasps,” she answered.

“There’s your shock,” he said.

Juliet had to concede that point. Ron almost didn’t believe her when she told him the story. The judge had barely gotten the words “How do you plead?” out before Meredith let out a wail like wounded animal and confessed to the whole gruesome thing. She sobbed that she was sorry, but she knew she had to be punished. She wasn’t safe. And truthfully, Juliet felt bad for her. It was truly one of the most pitiful things she’d ever witnessed.

But the one thing Juliet could never forget, the image that would stick with her for all her days, was the look on Peggy Lee’s parents’ faces. The Lees watched, dignified, proud, yet misty eyed as the person who killed their daughter begged for mercy. Their grief was profoundly felt, despite their stately manner. They said nothing. They did nothing. And they spoke to no one upon their exit from the courtroom.

“Jules?”

Ron’s voice brought her back to the present, his hand on her shoulder making her turn to look at him.

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “Just...it’s so unfair. If anyone had a right to be screaming and crying it was the parents.”

“They must be very English,” he said.

“Oh, they were proper English,” she agreed. “Stiff upper lips and all. The mother did at one point hide her face in the father’s arm, but other than that, they were stoic.”

“Thinking about including that in your story?” he wondered.

“God, no,” she replied. “I’ll mention that they were there and offered no comments, but this isn’t that kind of article.”

“Just the facts, huh?”

“As usual.”

“Juliet.”

“Yeah?”

“The article’s gonna be great,” he said.

“How can you be so sure?” she asked.

“Because you care this much,” he said. He accentuated the point with a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ve got a staff meeting. Are you alright here?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for being so patient with me.”

He kissed her again. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“See you later, Ron,” she returned.

With that, he left. Juliet started trying to condense the lead again, still feeling like it was too long. There had to be a better summary. But it was a lot to try and fit into one sentence, so she resigned herself to making it more than one line. She hadn’t chosen a headline yet, either, but she usually liked to write the article first. That way she could pick out the singular most newsworthy part and headline with that. As she organized further, the phone rang.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Juliet, it’s Lottie.”

“Hey, Lottie, how are you?” Juliet asked.

“Fine, same as usual,” Lottie returned. “Otis just rang and told me about the trial. I hope you’re hard at work.”

“Absolutely,” Juliet assured her. “I’ve nearly got the lead down. I’ve just got to get the facts organized. I’m thinking of doing a follow up story about the shortcomings of Operation Pied Piper, since Cooper’s little tidbit did prove to be true.”

Sad as it was, Harvey Cooper was right. There was no process for vetting the families agreeing to take the children. The committee had been in such a hurry to evacuate, they had not even considered that some children could end up in more danger than they were at home in the cities. Juliet found the whole thing fascinating, and it could open up a conversation about war time protocol - be meticulous or swift?

“I think that’ll be fine,” Lottie said. “But have you gotten any war news? I know I wasn’t enthusiastic about it initially, but you’re the only reporter I’ve got with the Airborne.”

Juliet bit her lip. While the prospect of war news had originally driven her to accept the Peggy Lee story, she found herself conflicted about it now. Her relationship with Ron threw a wrench in it.

“I think it’s a conflict of interest for me to cover the Airborne,” she said.

She could practically hear Lottie’s eyes roll. “Oh, come on, Juliet, don’t be absurd.”

“It isn’t right, Lottie!” Juliet insisted. “I’m in an intimate relationship with one of the soldiers, there’s no freeing me from bias there.”

“You could use it to your advantage,” Lottie said. “Obviously, you can’t use him as a source, but couldn’t he lead you to the right person?”

“I can’t ask that of him,” Juliet said. “I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea?”

It was something Juliet had already put a lot of thought into. As badly as she wanted to cover the war - and it did seem like things were ramping up even more in Aldbourne - she was hesitant. She had actually considered asking Ron for a source and then immediately hated herself for it. She would not use her relationship to get ahead in her job. She couldn’t. It just wasn’t right, simple as that.

“That I’m using him,” Juliet explained. “If I ask him to get me a source, he might worry that it’s the reason I entered the relationship, and that’s not the case.”

Lottie sighed. “So, you just want to give up on covering the war?”

“I didn’t say that,” Juliet returned. “I’d be happy to cover something else once I get back to London, but-”

“Forget it,” Lottie cut across her. “Just focus on the trial for now and then Pied Piper, if that’s what you want.”

“Lottie -”

“Good afternoon, Juliet,” Lottie said harshly, hanging up before Juliet could protest any further.

She sighed, hanging up as well, and sitting back in her chair. She had a feeling the conversation wasn’t quite over, but she’d hear more about it on her next trip home. For now, she wanted to focus on what happened at the trial. The sentencing would be in another few weeks, so she needed to get this done.

***

Ron was right of course. The article was published and the London Pursuit sold the most copies it had in years. It surprised Juliet a little, but perhaps people were tired of war news and what better than a dramatic murder trial for a change of pace? It was morbid, sure, but Juliet knew she’d handled it as well as she could.

Lottie called, absolutely elated by the circulation numbers. And honestly, Juliet was thrilled too. She found Ron later that day and leapt into his arms as a display of her unmitigated excitement. She’d done it, and done it well! It was cause for celebration. So they went to London for the weekend - staying with Nancy of course, since she would have had a fit at missing an opportunity to see Ron - and they went to a nice dinner, champagne and everything. Juliet could hardly believe her luck. Everything was going so perfectly.

And that night, as they lay together in the afterglow, she looked at his face and knew she loved him. The kind of love she read about in books and poetry. The kind that crooners sang about on the radio. She’d found it. It was scary enough to admit to herself, but she determined that she would - one day soon if the opportunity presented itself - admit it to him.

He caught her gazing at him.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m just happy you’re mine.”

***

The sentencing hearing was not as interesting as the trial itself, but Juliet was relieved to report that Meredith Fisher was going to prison for life. There would be no chance for parole, either. So justice was served.

However, Juliet couldn’t help but notice the look on Mr. Lee’s face. Mrs. Lee had not come for the sentencing, so it was just father. When the judge announced Meredith’s fate, Mr. Lee only closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He nodded, put a hand over his heart, and inhaled again. A single tear rolled down his cheek. It made Juliet look away so that he could have that moment for himself. To take in whatever feelings came to him. To remember Peggy and take some solace in that her killer was going away.

“I thought I’d be happier,” Juliet told Ron as they prepared for bed that night back at the Blue Boar. “But it still just feels...rotten.”

“Nothing can bring the girl back,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I know,” she replied. “But I just....I suppose you’re right. What else could anyone have hoped for in this situation?”

“Right,” he agreed.

“I’m also grateful we didn’t have to hear that lawyer make that ridiculous argument in a courtroom,” she said. “I don’t think I could bear the looks on the parents’ faces at that.”

“That would have been awful,” he said.

“Even so, it feels rather anticlimactic,” she said. “Especially for the prosecution who spent months putting everything together.”

“They still got the result they wanted,” he pointed out. “So what does it matter? ��

She shrugged at that. She still felt unsatisfied, as if there was something more to be done. Even though logically, she knew there wasn’t. She would write an update for the paper, and that would really be the end of it. That was when it hit her. What was really upsetting her was that now that this was over, there was no more reason for her to be in Aldbourne. Especially now that she didn’t want to cover the Airborne. It meant that she would go home to London, in turn reducing her time with Ron significantly. And that was a dreadful thought.

***

“What do you mean you aren’t coming back to London?” Lottie cried through the phone. “What about the Pied Piper story?”

“I reckon it can wait,” Juliet said, entirely unconvincing, but she hoped Lottie was buying it. Her reasons for remaining in Aldbourne had nothing to do with her job and everything to do with the man she was in love with. “And maybe with some time, I can find my own sources on war news.”

Lottie remained silent for several minutes. “So, you’ve just changed your mind all of a sudden about covering the Airborne?”

“Not completely,” Juliet lied. “I...I’m just not sure I’m quite finished here. And what if there’s something else about the Peggy Lee story that comes up? I could -”

“Give it a rest, Juliet,” Lottie groaned. “I know you want to stay for your boyfriend.”

“That’s not -”

Lottie cut across her protests. “Please do not insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise. You want to be near him.”

“You don’t sound quite as sympathetic as I hoped,” Juliet said, giving in.

“You have a life in London, Juliet!” Lottie reminded her harshly. “You have a job to do, your mother is here, and you want to put everything on hold for some man?”

“He’s not just some man!” Juliet argued indignantly. “He’s...different from any man I’ve ever known. And what we have means more to me than anything I’ve ever known.”

She glanced down at the necklace that sparkled against her skin. A constant reminder of how much she meant to him as well.

“Oh, come off of your cloud, will you?” Lottie snapped.

“Lottie,” Juliet said seriously. “The whole time I was with Arthur, did you ever know me to put him before work? Or my family?”

“No, so why is this Ron fellow -”

“Because it is different,” Juliet emphasized. “This is it, Lottie. He’s the one.”

That seemed to stump her. “Has he...proposed?”

“No, he hasn’t,” Juliet said. “I don’t even care if he does.”

Lottie scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous, you can’t just carry on living in sin.”

Juliet rolled her eyes. “Could you please pay attention to what's important here? There’s a man in my life who I genuinely see a happy future with and I just...I want to focus on that. Is that so wrong?”

“I suppose not,” Lottie sighed, and Juliet inwardly celebrated a moment of victory. “But I can’t pay you if you aren’t working. At least be making the proper phone calls to follow this Pied Piper story. Conduct interviews of other families there who have taken in children from the cities. Part of the story is there if you know where to look.”

“No problem,” Juliet said. “You’ll be glad to know I’ve already begun. I’ve got an interview with the Barnes family next week, who are housing a little girl. I’ll ask them about how the process went for them.”

“Perfect,” Lottie said. She paused for a beat. “And, Juliet?”

“Yes?”

“I really am happy for you.”

Juliet smiled softly. “Thank you, Lottie.”

***

Spring fully thawed the winter out by the time April arrived. Aldbourne was rather charming in bloom. But Juliet wasn’t sure if it was the flowers or that she was in love. She found herself humming a lot more than she used to - these days she didn’t even need food to start a merry tune in the back of her throat. She had more energy, despite spending rather long nights in Ron’s arms. And she found her enthusiasm for work - even though her priority shifted - a great deal easier to come by as well.

The interview with the Barnes family went splendidly. They were also housing a couple of lieutenants from the Airborne, though they were not in Ron’s company. Juliet only exchanged brief greetings with them, as they were heading to work just as she was entering the house. She nearly melted at the connection they had formed with the girl - Ann - which was clear in their goodbyes to her for the day. She seemed particularly close to the tall redhead.

Juliet told Ron about it that evening over drinks.

“Yeah, that’s Winters and Welsh,” he told her. “Good officers.”

“Do they spend much time here?” she wondered, indicating the Blue Boar.

“Welsh does, but Winters doesn’t drink,” he said. “He spends most nights there with the family.”

“I can tell,” she said. “I mean, it was seriously precious. She hugged his knees and he patted her on the head and I think I fell a little bit in love with him for a moment.”

He scoffed. “Good luck, I think he has a girlfriend.”

“Has he?” she questioned.

“Yeah, the nurse,” he said. “She works for the regiment.”

“You lot have your own nurse?”

“She’s got some connection to Colonel Sink,” he said with a shrug. “I’ve never actually met her.”

“And what about the other chap?” she asked. “Welsh?”

“He’s engaged,” he told her. “Her name’s Kitty.”

“You know that but not the name of the nurse?” she questioned.

“I only know because Harry never shuts up about her,” he said. “The whole regiment knows at this point. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Krauts knew.”

She giggled. “I think that’s sweet.”

“It’s obnoxious.”

“You mean, you don’t brag about me to the whole regiment?” she teased. “Romance is dead.”

“Sorry for your loss,” he retorted as he took a swig of his drink.

“Not as sorry as I am,” she returned. “Now I’ll have to spend God knows how many hours in mourning.”

“At least you look good in black,” he said.

“My saving grace,” she agreed with a smile. She paused for a beat. “Seriously, you don’t talk about me at all?”

“I do if you come up,” he told her.

“And what do you say?” she wondered.

“Whatever’s relevant,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer not to broadcast my personal life,” he said. “All they need to know is that you’re mine.”

She smiled as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “That’s true.”

***

April was drawing to a close. Juliet stood in her room, preparing to go and interview another Aldbourne family about their process in fostering a child from London. These interviews were restoring the bit of faith she’d lost in covering Peggy’s story because most of the families were very kind, and doted on the children. They were proud of doing what they could to ensure the future of England. And the children were mostly happy. What happened to Peggy was a tragedy and an outlier.

She was just getting ready to leave when Ron entered her room. A grim shadow of doubt on his features made her smile disappear as fast as it had come. Something was wrong. He definitely had bad news.

“We’re moving out,” he told her.

She had expected this at some point, but she still blinked in surprise. Her shoulders drooped as the reality of it percolated through her.

“Oh,” she said. “Well...when?”

He hesitated. “This is off the record -”

She scowled at him, momentarily offended that he felt the need to clarify.

“Everything between us is protected, Ron,” she said sharply. “You and I are always off the record unless stated otherwise.”

“Sorry,” he said quickly, picking up on her tone. “I know that, I just -”

“When?” she demanded again.

“End of May,” he said. “I don’t know when we’ll be back.”

The if hung in the air, but remained unsaid. This was it. The moment she had been dreading since she met him. Well, maybe not that long, but since they had started getting to know each other there in Aldbourne. The war was taking him from her, like it took everything.

“I see…” she trailed off, her annoyance easing up. That was sooner than she had hoped and she didn’t want to waste any precious time being angry at him. “Um...where - wait, I can’t ask you that.” She bit her lip. “When - oh, no, you’ve just told me, that’s right -”

“Juliet.”

“Yes?”

“Wait for me.”

Once again, Ron failed to disappoint her. Despite all the reassurance, she worried that when they shipped out, he would take the opportunity to break it off with her. Instead, he was asking - in his way - for a commitment from her. She held his gaze for a long moment, waiting for him to say more. But he didn’t.

“You really want to stay together?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said assuredly.

“Oh, thank God,” she sighed, and she threw herself into his arms for a kiss.

He returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his lips fiery and desperate against hers. As if he were leaving the following morning instead of a couple of weeks. But Juliet wanted the intensity. She wanted to savor every touch, every kiss, every moment she had before he was gone. She also wanted to let him know that she absolutely would wait for him. She would do anything he asked of her. She just wanted him. Forever, if possible. And if the war robbed her of that, she would at least have the memories of kisses like these. Of nights in his arms. Of his unwavering dedication to her.

***

The arrangements were made for Juliet to return to London once Ron and the rest of the Airborne were off. On his final morning in Aldbourne, they of course made love again, only it was the after that they relished even more. Juliet etched into her brain the feeling of his embrace, the warmth of his skin, the sound of his voice. She wished desperately that she could freeze time and hold onto him for just a little longer. She had found something so wonderful and now it was being dragged away from her.

“Jules,” he said, voice low as if there might be someone listening on the other side of the door.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to France,” he said.

She blinked and adjusted her position so she could look him in the face. “France?”

He nodded. “I wanted you to know.”

She couldn’t explain why that felt more intimate than anything they had just done in her bed.

“Why tell me now?” she asked, curious.

He swallowed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but his arm gave her shoulders a squeeze.

“Trust,” he said.

She pressed her lips tenderly to his chest to let him know how much she appreciated his trust. There was no longer a need to specify on or off the record. His statements were privileged. Anything he told her would remain between them.

For a fleeting moment, she considered telling him right then that she loved him. Because if he was going to France, there was a chance he would never come back. And shouldn’t he know just in case? But her heart told her to play it safe. If she didn’t tell him now, perhaps whatever power there was would protect him enough so that she could say it later. If there were still things left to be said, hopefully that would keep him alive.

There were no guarantees, of course. All they had was each other and their promise.

That afternoon, the trucks began rumbling out of Aldbourne. Juliet walked Ron as far as she was allowed. Her chest felt tight as the impending goodbye hung in the air. She hated this. It was too painful. How could it be that the very war that brought them together would also be the reason for their parting? What was fair about that? Nothing, that’s what.

A kiss from Ron drew her out of her thoughts. He held her firmly against him, almost as if he were afraid she would disappear right out of his grasp. When they parted, they were both breathless.

“Be careful,” she said.

His eyes searched hers. “You too.”

Her brain was practically screaming at her to tell him now just what she felt. But she was too afraid. Too afraid it would doom him. Too afraid he wouldn’t say it back. Or even worse, say it only because of the passionate nature of the moment. It had to be when they weren’t so desperate. When they really meant it because whatever was coming was not a threat.

“I’ll write,” she told him.

“I’ll respond when I can,” he returned.

She nodded. Her throat was dry and thick. The lack of tears in her eyes surprised her. How could she not be crying when she could feel her heart breaking so badly? She kissed him again. Just to prolong the last moment where he was only hers.

“Stay safe,” she told him.

He nodded.

With one last kiss, they said goodbye without saying it. Juliet went to the train station and headed home to London. And Ron went to war.

#band of brothers #ron speirs #juliet fletcher #ron speirs x ofc #hbo war #you better you better you bet series #Easy Company #band of brothers fic #hbo war fic

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dimensionwriter · 4 years ago

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100 Days

Part 2

Part One

M! Alien x GN! Reader

Warning: Innuendos, mention of torture

Word Count: 2519

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Remember to LIKE, COMMENT, and REBLOG, please. I love to see the comments on my stories.

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The air was so cold and dry in the room. The room was dead silent except for the low pitch buzz emanating from the computer. This room seemed unwelcoming to any person who dared to enter; However, you barely noticed as you stared at your creature in the giant container.

His form was still leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. Two black arms wrapped around his thin grey torso. The second and third set was just lightly floating in the liquid as he continued to sleep. A giant smooth tail that laid on top of his first set of arms, allowing his head to lay against it. His grey skin was a lot more muted while slumbering, it seems. A glance over would allow you to think that everything was the same as you left it.

However, there was something new. On his neck were these tiny slits that were moving with his chest. It was unknown to you that the creature contained gills. It was theorized that the creature breathed through the tiny slits sitting below his eyes. Maybe it had to do with something about him being a shift shaper. Was the creature changing his respiratory system while sleeping?

Walking over to the computer, you open the coding program. You couldn’t help how quickly you put in the stop coding for the sleeping medicine. It has been two days since you last saw him due to the weekend and you were just itching to learn more about this fascinating creature.

You fixed your lab coat and walked to the front of the container. Gosh, it felt so nice to do it. You are so used to seeing him floating in the container unconscious that now that you get a chance to interact with him, it was thrilling.

His tail slowly slid off his arms as he shifted in his sleep. He seems to be snuggling into the glass. So he enjoys sleeping. How does his species do their sleeping arrangement? Is it more of a hibernation or daily occurrence?

“...” He let a small grumble as his eyes fluttered open. You were expecting to see a pair of pitch black eyes, but instead they looked quite humanish. In fact, they looked really familiar. Wait a minute.

“Morning, Shark,” you spoke slowly. He looked at you groggily before turning his head around. You could see the confusion on his face. You’ve heard from coworkers that this sometimes happens. “How do you feel, Shark?”

“I had this dream where this beautiful angel was in front of me,” he grumbled as he stretched his arms out in every direction. It was kind of unique the way he had to contort his body in order for his six arms to get that stretch. “And I open my eyes and they’re still there.”

“You dreamed about me so much that you decided to wear my eyes,” you teased. It was odd seeing an alien with such human eyes. So far, most of the aliens usually have odd shaped eyes or none at all. But you guess with Shark, you can’t put him under the category for normal aliens.

“I-what!” His top arm went to his face and rubbed his eyes harshly. Guess he didn’t even notice that he didn’t have his normal eyes. You should document that and see if that’s a constant when he wakes up. “When I said I wanted you on my body, I didn’t mean this.”

Your movement towards the computer stopped as you processed what he said. Did he mean- that’s more of a human phrase- can he even? Your brain is becoming overwhelmed as you unpacked the single sentence. How does he even know that type of language?

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to fluster you like that, even though you look so cute. I’ll tone it down for you,” he explained. He swam up to the top of the tank where he folded his top arms on top of it. A giant smirk was on his face revealing that he most likely didn’t regret his comment.

“You seem to have quite the understatement on the human’s culture.” He manages to talk in perfect English while also using phrases that only people integrated in the culture could understand. Has he been hiding within the humans for a while?

His tail swishing slowly in the liquid made him appear relaxed in his environment. That’s a good sign for most specimens to have. If his behavior continues on this path, he might be able to leave the container and you can gain more data on him that doesn’t involve verbal communication.

“I got it by abducting a human and strapping them to a lab table to eat their brains. I learn the different waves of human’s vocals by their screams of pain. Quite the range, I may say,” he spoke with a glint in his eye.

Cold sweat dripped down your back as you froze in front of the computer. This is the first time you have felt fear in a while. Just the thought that a few feet away from you is a killer and the only thing stopping you is a glass container that he has proven many times to be able to lift himself over, is enough to make your stomach lurch.

You won’t lie and say it’s uncommon to contain an alien that has kidnapped humans or killed them in the search of science. But, they never understood what they did was wrong. However, Experiment 337 has shown signs of understanding human’s speech, therefore he should have an understanding of the human moral. Does he just not care?

“Sweetheart, you look so adorable when you scrunch your face up from overthinking. But to calm your nerves, I was joking,” he sang out. He released his hold on the top of the container and floated down. His grayish blue muscular legs began to lightly move causing him to swim a little. He contains mobility in liquid, noted.

“You got nothing to worry about. The only person I want to strap down and have screaming is you.” His black eyes looked at you through the liquid and gave a swift wink. Heat started crawling up your neck to your face.

“Didn't moments ago you said you would ‘tone it down’?” You asked, turning to the computer to appear busy. There’s pros and cons to having an alien that can speak english and have them understand some phrases. Although, you didn’t think being flirted with or having a dirty mind would be one.

“Oh that was tone downed. What I wanted to say was I would love to have you lying underneath me with your legs spread as I-” You cut him out with a loud screech. He jumped before laughing at you.

“Okay, my apologies for complaining. I don’t mind sticking to the previous level,” you squeaked out, rubbing your cheeks to get them to calm down. Do you even put this down in the notes? How would you word that your alien has a libido?

You pulled up the notes on the computer and stared at it for a while. Then just typed it “Understands the human language, Appears to be in search of mate.” That’s the best you can do at the moment.

“I’ll give you a break. I know so much about the humans because you have all of it in the open. Stacks and stacks of books on languages, anatomy, how you interact, ways of thinking,history, etc. Then there’s also this system humans have called ‘The Internet’ where I can interact with humans in multiple ways without having to show my face. It was great practice,” he explained, rolling his top left wrist. His bottom set of arms were pushing against the base of the container to bounce through the water.

You were quick to write down what he was saying and highlight how he used the internet to communicate with humans. You never heard of an alien using Earth’s own resources to learn more about it. How many are out there that are using these resources at this very moment? How many people online are actually humans?

“So, have you just been studying just human?” You asked, turning toward him. He flipped himself around to sit on the base of the container. His legs folded on top of each other and surprisingly the muscles seem to fit together to allow for a smooth surface.

“Nah, not really. The animals on this planet are pretty cool,” he grumbled. His top right arm went to his chin slightly as if he was thinking for a moment. “Yeah, my favorite animal is the… the um… I forgot what you call it. Just look.”

Suddenly, a giant black smoke cloud exploded from Shark’s skin, covering all the liquid in the water. You couldn’t see a thing inside. The now black liquid only showed your worried and terrified expressions. Who knows what this specimen has in store?

“Tadaaa,” he yelled, somewhere in the black liquid. You moved around the container as you tried to see what he was and where he was. The blackness seems to be dissipating the longer you stared at it. However, even that wasn’t enough to see him.

“I can’t see you, Shark.” You were trying to call out to him, but he didn’t seem to be appearing. The liquid at this point was a murky grey that allowed you to see through with it. But the container was empty. Did he escape?

Oh gosh, what’s the protocol for an escaped experiment? You need to press the alarm button. No, you need to lock down the room so he can’t leave. Which one goes first?

“Human, babbbbeeeee,” a tiny voice called out to you. You looked around the container for anything. Grey, grey, grey, orange, grey, grey… wait.

In the upper corner, there was a tiny fish with shimmering orange and yellow scales all over. Tiny black eyes stared sideways at you. The fish seem happy to have your eyes on it because it started swimming around in circles.

“Shark? You can shrink to 1/50 of your height and 1/400 of your weight. How? That-that breaks all laws of physics,” you rambled in disbelief. He has too much mass for it all to just condense into a goldfish. He would collapse into himself due to the density.

“Once again. Yeah, and you can’t,” his now squeaky voice teased from inside of the water. You were quick to press your face to the glass of the container. Shark swam over until he was right in front of your face. “It’s not that hard.”

“I have the coolest experiment in this place,” you whispered. His body wasn’t showing any signs of distress or struggle with swimming. The gills on the side of his neck showed that he was still breathing just fine, telling you that he could transform his lungs to fit his changed body.

“And I have the hottest scientist in the entire universe who I am going to make mines.” It felt so weird to be flirted with by a tiny goldfish that you couldn’t even take his comment seriously. You wouldn’t mind all his flirty statements if it was delivered by a cute little goldfish.

“Let me document this. And I got to check your vitals,” You mumbled to yourself. The vital cords were still attached to him, but seem to have shrunk to accommodate his new form.

You pulled up the vitals recorded to see everything had changed. The oxygen level had dropped significantly and so had his heart rate. His body temperature was so much lower that anyone reading this would think he temporarily died.

“Shark, you amazed me,” you mumbled, scrolling through the documentation. Now you need to go back to the previous day to see if his reading has changed when he shifted into you. From the looks of things, he understands the organ system of the organism that he shifts into.

“But I haven’t even taken you to dinner yet and you already tell me how good I am.” You turned back to the container to see he had transformed back into his usual self. His giant six palms were pressed against the glass closest to you as he stared at the computer screen.

“Just take the compliment,” you teased. You flipped to your notes and began to type in everything that has happened. Shark swam a little closer and squinted his beady black eyes. Guess he was reading what you were writing.

“Appears to be in search of a mate?” He read out with a tone of confusion. Once again, you were in a state of cold sweat as you realized what he read. It just happened, but you were so in science bliss of him breaking physics that you forgot about his earlier statement.

“Just an assumption...based on the way you speak,” you stuttered, avoiding his look. A deep laugh escaped out of him. His grey body swam up again, so he was peeking out the top of the container.

“Sweetie, did you not hear me earlier? I’m going to make you mine. You are my mate. Okay, darling,” he purred, sending a swift wink. There’s that warmth crawling up your neck. How do you respond to this in a formal way?

A buzz in your ear alerted you for an incoming call. You pressed the ear piece with your shoulder to answer it. “Hey, it’s lunch time. Meet in the section Sub 4B in 20 minutes.”

“Everytime you get on that ear piece, you leave. I might just take it away from you, so you will never leave me.” You let out a laugh as you pressed the ear piece again to end the call. Even though you are a scientist that works with experiments, that doesn’t mean all your time is with them. It happens outside, where data is collected and talked about.

“I’m sorry. But you’ll go to sleep again, so you won’t even notice time has passed.” You slide the reading off the screen of the computer and pull up the medicine supplier. The code for the sleeping medicine was quickly placed in.

A huge frown came onto Shark’s face as he watched the blue liquid coming from the computer and towards him. He instinctively swam to the bottom and sat down. His back was placed against the side glass with his tail wrapped around him. The top and bottom set of arms were crossed over his knees while the middle set just floated down.

“See you later, Shark,” you whispered. His calm even breathing was the only response you got back. Leaning towards the glass, you gave it a little kiss. It was something dumb you did when he was unconscious and had to leave him.

You discarded your lab jacket in the waste bin and grabbed your things. As you exited, you gave one last glance at Shark’s sleeping form with a happy smile. You were so grateful to have him here at work.

“97 days left.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Here it is. You guys asked for it and I provided it. I’m actually starting to really love writing Shark’s character. It’s different from the usual soft boy that I write. I like it. Anyway, remember to leave a LIKE and a COMMENT. Hope you enjoy the rest of your day.

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abizarreyodelingincident · 4 years ago

Text

Our Nightly Confidant 9

Lightest before Dusk

Her dresses flutter as she strides into her throne room. The hushed whispers die down at her entrance, her courtiers startled and her guards standing at attention.

When they had mentioned a tear in space, Zelda's heartbeat had picked up. There were only so many explanations, and some of her agents had already confirmed that they felt no hostile power in the spell. Was her Hero back? He'd been gone for weeks now. It seemed only right that he returned to her sooner than later.

(She forbid herself the thought that it might have been-)

But on her way, another servant had come to greet them. Link. Link had returned. And so she had entered with her queenly mask in place and her thoughts light.

A few of the heroes still groan as they try to get back their bearings. By the looks of surprise, it might not have been a very graceful landing. Her people shuffle about, nervous by the presence of armed strangers, and those that recognize Link amongst them... stiffen. She makes a mental note of their faces and allegiances, for later review.

The hero with the blue scarf notices her first, and he goes on one knee with a smooth, practiced motion. A knight, that one, she immediately knows.

The rest imitates the motion or pay her respect in whatever custom their era holds. The youngest is amusingly the stiffest, his eyes not on her but the knight. A touching bond, she imagines.

With pose, she greets them all, until Link's nearest companion – scarred, a little younger, naturally sticking close to Link in the middle of a crowd – seems to realize that she is Queen over Link. His expression turns from respectful to impish, mischievous and far too triumphant.

Link cringes as if he realizes exactly what goes through that one's mind.

… And he put that one's neck in a sidehold, trying to stifle the barks of laughter without much success.

“Oh, hey, your majesty, did you know what Twi sa-?”

Link's hand slaps on top of the exuberant one's mouth. A tad desperate for his silence, and though she knows no words her Hero had spoken would be truly damaging, she cannot resist the urge to tease him. With her best, coldest mask, she arches a single eyebrow. Link's face takes on a cherry red color, one she had yet to see from him.

Muffled and swallowed snickers abound from the group of heroes. Poor Link shushes them, and it is when the knightly one reminds them of her presence that they settle, somewhat. Link looks grateful, and a little torn. What relationship does he share with this hero? One of surface level friction, she muses, that cannot reach the core of their trust in one another.

Link schools his expression into a solemn look.

“My Queen,” he says, a hand over his chest and his head bowed.

“My Hero,” she replies, so perfectly even. “Have you travelled well?”

He has a dark glare for the scarred hero.

“It's been... an adventure.”

Yes, she pictures it nicely now. And part of her warms to the image of her Hero so well looked after.

“Is there need of my assistance for any of your companions, My Hero?”

Link pauses, then quickly glances back. “Right this second? No, we could use a moment to rest,” he says, and rolls his shoulder for show.

She allows herself a small smile.

“I bid you all welcome into the kingdom of Hyrule, brave heroes of time past and to come. Accommodations will be arranged for all of you tonight. Refreshments and food will be brought to you. You need only ask. The Royal Family does not forget the debt owed to its saviors.”

“We would be thankful for such generosity, My Queen,” he says, and the relief in the others is badly hidden.

She gestures for her guards to show them to chambers being prepared by some poor, rushing maids. Circumstances oblige. They'd be compensated in some way later. As the heroes move to obey, however, she raises her voice once more.

“My Hero, I would have you share some tea with me. We have much to discuss.”

A few of them misstep, and shoot Link curious glances.

The one-eyed soldier lifts an eyebrow.

But Link shakes his head at his commander. He lands a strong clap on the man's back and juts his chin at the exit. Silent words are exchanged without even a twitch, and, on cue, eight heroes leave the throne room through the front doors, led by an honor escort. Link, however, breaks the distance between them and offers a second bow.

“I am at your service.”

That you are, she thinks to herself. Her courtiers do not notice. Not the irony of her thoughts, nor the displeasure she must hide from them every other week.

They disappear together through the passage only the royal family may take, and together they climb the staircase to the highest point of the castle. Few members of her forces patrol the area, all of which pay her their respect, and try to hide some contempt for Link. It cements her plan in her mind.

She waits two heartbeats after the doors to her chambers close, then rushes into his arms.

“Zelda,” he whispers, at first, his arms strong around her, “it's not proper.”

She knows. Of course she knows. Many like to remind her. But queen she might be, she is also Hylian, and she missed him. Him and his lack of decorum, care for propriety. She never asked it of him. Not as themselves.

“Farore has blessed many of my court,” she replies, pulling away from him.

Tea and biscuits have been laid out at her orders, and she invites him to sit.

“To think they would still suggest you to be too lowly for any association with me.”

Link hums in his teacup. “They do say Farore loves her fools.”

Zelda shoots him a sharp look. “Do not insult yourself so.”

For all of a second, her knight looks sheepish. Then: “But...?” he asked, his fangs shining in the corner of his mouth.

She lets out a sigh. “But those people specifically are, indeed, fools.”

His chest rumbles with an unspoken hum, a melody from home. Ordon. Zelda has rarely visited, and not once in recent memory. For all Hyrule rules over Ordon, that province is marginal at best. Out of sight and out of mind to most her subjects, she knows. How ironic that the Golden Three would pick their Hero out of this forgotten corner of Hyrule. A reminder, it would seem, that none of her subjects deserve to be neglected. She took it seriously; she wonders more often than not if her nobles have.

Link does not speak right away. He samples the biscuits, always a little wary of food he cannot identify at a glance. A remnant of the life of the traveler, she had long guessed. But after the first bite, he nearly swallows the next two whole. They must have gone without rest for some time before the portal brought them to her. She is glad the kitchen had been forewarned to cater to their whims.

Her first sip of tea coats a floral flavor on her tongue. It is one of Link's favorites, and she can appreciate its subtle qualities beneath the light, almost perfume-like fragrances. She had not cared for it before, but now she is away from public eyes, she is quite famished herself.

Link looks at her like he knows, and it prompts her to, in more delicate words, play with him.

“The scarred, insolent one,” she starts, her tone neutral to hide her teasing, “he is the one the goddesses sent you to help, isn't he?”

Link pales a bit. “My Queen, he meant no-”

“Peace,” she says with a smile. “I care not, My Hero, for protocol beyond its use in social gatherings. Least of all for one I see dear to your heart.”

Reassured, Link relaxes, settling back into his seat with an equally tender smile. His eyes flit to her window, to the rolling clouds and the splatters of rain on the glass. So many tears from the heavens.

(They do not shatter two hearts.)

She banishes the thought. Her Hero is here, and followed by eight others across time and space. The very idea fascinates her. Makes her wish for time to speak with them and show them what records the kingdom has kept. The Chosen Hero, the Hero of Light, the Hero of Time. Hyrule only remembers so few, and there is temptation all on its own, to know that some may come from times yet to come.

But her desires do not weigh enough for the indulgence. Other matters are of greater import.

“Those heroes of legend. You trust them, then?”

“With my life.”

No pause. No consideration. Yes, she had thought as much. If no one else, Heroes of Courage could only be trustworthy. The Goddesses would never tolerate otherwise.

But in truth, that judgment, she had already decided upon witnessing the easy manners Link displayed around them. Link suffers no false-faced turncloaks. There had been nothing begrudging in their interactions. Rather, the brotherly banters they had shushed upon her arrival had amused her as much as it had enlightened her.

“Can you tell me about them?” she asks, gently. Not an order, but a request from a curious mind.

He lights up, and his earnest joy shines above the drab atmosphere of the late afternoon. He speaks exuberantly, familiarly, as if they are old friends. He even manages to snatch a laugh out of her, something she is well aware her court desperately tries ever still. Ice queen, they murmur out of her sight. A few hinges their courtship on their charm, and for the life of her, Zelda knows they cannot equal this simple man speaking of the love he has for these newfound brothers-in-arms.

He speaks of them like Ordon, like home, and perhaps it is what emboldens her to ask, after a delicate bite of her biscuit: “Do they... like their Zelda?”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile smaller and somehow more mysterious. Puzzling. It is not a mannerism he used to have. She wonders which heroes he picked it up from. Perhaps the scarred, one-eyed hero. Link had stood by him with a deference he is loath to show any he doesn't believe deserve it. And that man had been the stoic sort, at least on a surface level. If her suspicions about their respective identities proved correct...

Well. It matters not, she supposes.

Link takes the time to swallow another swing of his tea, the impudent farmboy that he is, and looks at her knowingly.

“The Chosen's smitten.” Link wipes some breadcrumbs from his mouth, which then turns upward into a smirk. “You should hear him when he tries to write her songs. It's adorable.”

“Yes, adorable,” she repeats to herself, willing her cheeks not to burn.

Quick as it came, the amusement drains out of him, and he sounds more apologetic next. “The truth is, I don't know, my Queen. Some of them are fond, some are a bit like strangers, and some are like us.” He points at her and himself a few times. “In-between. What do you think of that?”

“In some ways... reassuring, I would say. Part of me worries that I have not done enough for my kingdom in its time of need.”

He opens his mouth, indignation naked on his face, and she preempts him with a raised hand. He silences his reply, and she does not back down from his glare.

“She was always more important to your quest than I.”

With a grimace, he sits back down.

“True.”

He does not lie to her. She appreciates that, on the heels of a meeting with courtiers who are never honest with her. When they had barged in this very room, during the Twilight Invasion, one cursed, one mortally wounded, she had known that it would be her choice. Her choice, and her chance to save her kingdom. When Link speaks of her, he softens at this part, at the sanded out edge of her wits and quips.

There's a faint hurt in Zelda's chest. A longing, phantom, mere daydreams that do not belong to her. To give part of one's soul is to accept part of someone else's in return. In that way, it is quite like love. She had known it would hurt, and had done it anyway, for her hero needed another princess. But Nayru, at the very least, blessed her too much to let those visions of a brave wolf and braver man cloud her reason. No union could be successful from a pair of fools chasing shadows.

“You were important though, My Queen. Don't underestimate yourself.” He holds out her gaze with the strength that let him challenge the King of Evil. “You were our goal, our salvation – more than once, the last one to give me strength against Ganondorf. You brought the Light Spirits' blessing to that battle, and the Three know I wouldn't have managed without it.”

She finishes her cup. “One's advices are so much more convincing when equally applied to oneself.”

“Fair. We were meant to do it together, My Queen. Believe me, it's like history told me eight times over.”

Her lips curl up faintly. “Only eight times? And to think you could be told a hundred times without moving before. Nayru has finally seen you fit to receive some of her blessing,”

His indignation flashes in his eyes, and settles in his innocent, wolf-like grin. “Aww, shucks. Your Majesty, don't you be using big words to insult lil' ol' me.”

“It was no insult. Your determination often forces admiration, My Hero.”

He chuckles under his breath. He says something that might be 'wolf boy'.

This is what they are to each other: a way to remember one they do not wish to forget and whose hearts long to, so they may at last heal. They are. Healing. She knows this. Just as she knows the process is slow and grueling, but every meeting they hold in her chambers, every teacup shared by the window, their gaze overlooking Castle Town... she feels closer to it.

And by the gentleness in Link's eyes, she thinks he feels the same way. That even away from her, gallivanting through time and space, he has progressed as well.

Naturally, with none of the terrible awkwardness that plagued their early conversations, their words drift away to more casual topics, the health of the servants, the network of the resistance, the state of the kingdom. Easy words for her to speak. They drift from anecdotes about the castle's kitchen to the latest nobility gathering to her bemoaning of the state's newest budget.

At his request, she produces the copy for him to skim, which he does with a ferocity that is rather inappropriate for questions of maintaining bridges and holding the annual solstice celebrations. And therein lies the problem. He begins his commentary.

Link, it must be said, is also a miser of the worst sort. He would never let her exceed budget and does indeed question anything but the strictest necessity. It is as useful an attribute in an advisor as it is prodigiously irritating.

“My Hero, whilst the people can survive perfectly well on a tight purse, they do not want to. I must consider... certain sensibilities.”

“Why?” he finally asks, standing and disturbing his cup on the desk. “Why must you when it seems none of them ever do? How can they bow to you and then demand? You're their queen! Everything you've done has been to help Hyrule recover and thrive. Why can't they put their darned wants aside for one season?!”

If only her nobles could be half as loyal, she might actually enjoy the administration of her council. “It is my queenly duty, Link.”

His stubborn, darkened look recedes. “Aye, aye, I know. Big part of why I believe in you, Zelda, but...”

Her hand catches his, and through her glove and his gauntlet, warmth reaches from and to the divine mark they share.

“You wish it was not so. That others might be willing to sacrifice for the good of their brethrens.”

His ears droop.

To be a hero is to walk a lonely road. To have the world at your feet and its weight on your shoulders. And Link is strong, so strong to have done it.

In her hearth, the fire crackles and spits out dying ember. The dregs of tea in her cup have gone cold. They have been at this long, long enough for the gossip to come back to life, and momentarily, she dares imagine the ribbing Link will be subjected to when he meets back with his companion.

But, Zelda regrets, that would come to a quick stop, once they notice.

She has delayed as much as she could. But, again, duty demands it of her, of him.

“Forgive me, my Hero, for what I must ask of you.”

She sees it in his gaze. The surety, the sturdiness that is a man of the land. Stubborn and decisive. Less delusions than most. He knows, then, that she means it. That it is no idle speculation, and that he will suffer in the course of his duty.

Yet he nods, once, a short thing. “You already are.”

There is no doubt in him.

Not yet.

She names the place she must send him to, and so rises the shadows of his regrets in his sky blue eyes.

He does not hear much of her explanation. She proceeds as if he does, as gentle an offering of time for him to gather his Courage she can afford to give.

“My Hero,” she whispers to him at last, her touch light on his chin, “Link, return to me whole.”

It's as much an order as she dares give, and the ghost of his smile lets her know he understands her feelings.

“As long as you need me, My Queen.”

Need me forever, don't let me go, not you too, is the prayer he will never voice. Nayru help us both.

***

Flecks of sand grates against his skin as harsh winds pick up. He wants to say he doesn't notice, but it would be a lie. He'd rather focus on the irritating grit, on the whistle of scorching dry air. On the glare of the sun even as the shadows of pillars inch closer to them.

Yet, he can't quite manage.

He stares ahead at the place he most hates in his Hyrule.

He loves his country. Loves the beauty he found in every corner, in the smile of strangers and the purr of beasts. From start to finish, Twilight had simply loved the world he was born in. But this place, he can't bring himself to feel anything for it.

(he would be swallowed)

(torn from the inside, darkness spreading, a mask with tendrils forced on his face like those poor people he couldn't save)

“Sky... You probably don't want to get inside that place,” he hears himself say.

The patient wait twists into a knot of tension. The ring of silent question bears on his back, and he turns, comes face to face with a Sky that is stone-faced, all but daring to be left behind. His eyes are more steel than the sword in Twilight's hand.

A nod.

It was a futile hope. Sky was the first to incarnate the Hero's Spirit. He never lacked in Courage. But this will hurt. Hurt so bad to show Sky a glimpse of the darkness that the dream shared with his love will unleash.

(it's not on him, never was on Sky, their sweet knight from above, but Twilight knows too much about heroes not to predict what one feels about responsibilities)

Time stalks forward, diffusion some of the tension.

“Is this one of your world's temples, Pup?”

A temple? He wants to scoff. This place is no temple. Nothing sacred, not anymore. It's a place of misery and pain and grudges never allowed to rest. It's a testament of sin and it's the place he wakes up to in his nightmares, one prisoner amongst many, chained with a spiked collar, Hylian or wolf.

The others wait after his words, and he hates the honest curiosity he sees in their gazes.

He should find a gentler way to say it.

But simply standing in the shadow of this place drains him of his energy. He already feels the weight of memories pulling at his limbs. It takes a mild effort to look back to the old man.

“... No, but I believe it is where one used to be. This is the prison they built when they exterminated the Gerudo.”

Blood rushes out of Time's face. He looks pale, horrified. There's no real need to elaborate, is there? The Hero of Time knows why and how Hyrule and its Gerudo neighbors would go to war.

Something like guilt and disgust twist inside Twilight's stomach. Why did he say that?

“Twi!” Wild shouts, his objection all too obvious.

“Those that stayed died. The warriors. The zealots. Those that didn't believe the kokiri seer had been truthful about Ganondorf's reign of terror.”

Time looks on the verge of being sick. “They weren't meant... ” he trails off, his one good eye staring at the torture complex.

Twilight puts a hand on his shoulder. “I don't know the details. You'd have to ask my Queen for the records of the kingdom's history.” – He sighs, squeezes gently. – “But peace didn't last, and that's why this place was built out of the ruins of a sacred place. A desecration of the worst kind. To let the torments of the regretful last.”

He wants to ease the pain on Time's face so bad, but... he can't. Whatever else happened, Time had been a child at the time. He'd saved the kingdom. The cost...

Twilight fumbles with a match to light his lantern. He can't think of costs right now. It's not the place. The flame from his lantern illuminates the first few steps into the broken doors of the prison complex.

“Be careful inside. This place is haunted by more than just the horrors of Hyrule's dark past. Lost souls and living corpses are trapped inside.”

“Gloom and doom, much?” Legend snarks.

It takes effort not to snarl.

“Just don't get paralyzed by a scream when you're standing on quicksand, Bunnyboy.”

The others straighten at his uncharacteristical snap. That, or the image he suddenly conjured of them, slowly engulfed by torrents of sand, unable to move but all too aware of what was happening. Back then, if it hadn't been for...

Not the time to be losing himself in old memories.

His chest pangs with guilt. The way the others look at him. The surprise. The shock for his poor manners. He mumbles an apology. Turns away quickly to face the dried out shadows of the unlit tunnel.

Farore, he hates how the Arbiter's Grounds empties him from the inside out.

***

There were, to Twilight's knowledge, two likely locations for what his queen asked him to investigate. He had been silently praying when he'd opened the gates to the inner sanctum. Had come close to begging as Hyrule and Legend examined the dusty remains of the paper talismans, and though repulsed confirmed their power long lost, alongside what they had been made to restrain. The Lense of Truth hadn't revealed anything else, and

– he couldn't turn into a wolf, not here, not where she –

it had been a waste of time. Unsurprising.

“Why go for the least likely first then?” Warriors had demanded, his stance a bit more defensive.

Because the Death Sword had been sealed in the middle of the prison complex, and if he was wrong, then Twilight would rather avoid having to backtrack through this accursed place. Upon that reasoning, the rest conceded that he had a point, even if they had some complaints.

“If the source of that dark magic flare wasn't in that creepy cell, why are there some many monsters here?” Hyrule asks, off-hands, as he locks swords with a stall captain.

There's no reason to worry, not quite.

“This place is never empty of monsters!” he shouts over his shoulder, crushing some of the smaller skeletons under a broad swing of his sword. “It's been soaked in blood and torment. No one rests in the Arbiter's Grounds.”

Legend, balancing on a near sunken platform above sinking send, kicks away a moldorm with trained ease. He seems pleased for all of a few seconds, before Wind points behind him at a shambling shadow emerging from an alcove in the walls.

Legend's sword seizes midswing, a piercing shriek tearing through the air with the force of a waking nightmare. The scream bounces in their heads, bites into bones and wraps around flesh. It strikes and tempers, and leaves all nine of them fighting their own bodies for the right to move as it inches ever closer to its target. He hears strangled grunts from his left, clatters of metal on the ground from his right. Struggles to break free.

And all Twilight knows is he'll be damned if this place steals another loved one from him.

He stumbles forward, amongst the first to do so. He doesn't waste precious time thinking, assessing. The shadows swallow him, and he dashes on four legs.

Paws stomp over sand, bugs and spikes as he bounds and leaps.

His fangs tear through the rotten flesh with ease. The revolting taste used to make him retch. The decay, the dry leather, the sandpaper texture of bandages. He's not sure if he's imagining it right now, so numb his whole body feels.

He gnarls on the monster's throat till he hits bone, then leaps off. The thing can't scream anymore. It's barely a threat without that power. It's slow, cumbersome. It drags its claymore through sands, but it doesn't get a chance to swing. He steps out of shadows with his sword in hand.

The mummified head rolls on the quicksand, soon sunken and no more than a troubling memory. The rest collapses, and they can breath again.

He's not sure what his are called. They have elements of both Gibdos and Redeads. The massive sword is only in his Hyrule though. Lucky him.

He spits to the side, the glob black and green, and the taste, worse. “Vet, you good?”

Legend's pale, his fingers twitching, and his feet pull him back closer to the center of the platform. Startled is the word that comes to mind. It comes, and goes. Legend's too – wearied – seasoned to let a mere close call shake him.

“Yeah. Thanks, wolfboy. That beast's out of the bag now,” he says, leaning toward the rest.

Despite the spill of sand, the room feels oppressively silent. Tension knots into his back. He's had nightmares of this exact moment, he suddenly realizes. The moment when the secret is out and it is time to face their judgment, be it words, disgust or drawn swords. But the silence doesn't press onto him, doesn't stifle. Warriors gauges the others, Sky looks about ready to speak up, the same way Wild does. Time looks the most wary, and Four sighs with something like relief. An incredulous chuckle building in the back of his throat, it occurs to Twilight that he never told anyone which of them knew his secrets. He's never been one to parse them out, after all. And now...

Now, Wind's shock simmers into something else as he looks to the other Links and sees little surprise or even wonder.

“Oh,” Hyrule says, the only one dazed, “I had a feeling.”

It's too muted a reaction. It sparks the flurry of feeling boiling just under Wind's skin. “Really?! We're the last two to learn?”

The way he glares at him, at the others. The accusation is clear. He thinks they don't trust him. That Twilight doesn't trust him. That... that he tricked him. Got the feelings out of him, then mocked him behind his back.

Twilight quiets the 'beast!' his mind screams. “It's not like that, Sailor. I never sought to reveal it to anyone. I” – fear – “dislike talking about it. It just happened.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Wind bites out.

“I mean it, Sailor,” he tells the kid, hoarse. “I'm sorry.”

His tone gives Wind pause. The teen frowns, looks up at him with suspicion. “This isn't over. I'm gonna ask for more later.”

“Of course.”

“Twi,” Wild suddenly calls, his eyes flashing with worry, “are you okay?”

They can't do this inside the Arbiter's Grounds. The traps alone would be too much of a risk.

He shakes his head, then wipes the congealed blood off his blade. “I'm fine. I just hate this place.”

Warriors, with deliberate timing, clasps his hands. “Great. Finally a point in common between the two of us, Rancher. How about you lead us out of here?”

“I'd be more at ease somewhere with less chances of an ambush,” Time adds, still scanning their surroundings.

He nods. Wrestles with himself. They need him. Him, he can't fail now.

“It shouldn't be too far. Let's go.”

Sky's face twists, something like guilt, something like determination. Twilight doesn't regret following his queen's order, but he does bury the sorrow he feels at seeing his brother's dreams further crushed. Hyrule was... is... a country with a long history, and some of it unworthy of the glory it received.

There's frankly nothing Sky can do to prevent this outcome.

The thought flares with guilt. Look at him, giving lessons about making peace with the inevitable.

He ducks his head and turns back to the traps they will need to navigate.

“We'll need some creative solutions, heroes. This place is best travelled with a very specific item, and I only have the one...”

But though Warriors is the only one to share the spinner item with him, the others all have access to impressive resources to play around the traps that litter the Arbiter's Grounds. And even for the few that look perplexed, Sky's whip, Wind's hookropes or their hookshots allow them to swing back and forth over dangerous obstacles to link the groups together.

All that being said, he will keep a closer eye on his spinner for the next couple of days, because Wild's starry eyes at the sight of Twilight bouncing around on complex rails had left him chuckling for the first time today. And he wasn't blind to the intrigued glances Legend and Four had had for the item either.

Were he in a generous mood, Twilight would advise Warriors to keep a close eye on his stuff too. Kleptomania was apparently a shared trait of the Hero's Spirit.

The skull's fragments are unmoved, and their path takes them past even the boss chamber.

Light washes over them, wonderful thing that chases half the ghosts that linger in his mind after a trek through the cursed prison. Cooling winds makes him want to shout after the dusty, heavy air that mummifies every corpse down there. He wants to celebrate with the others, but in the corner of his eyes, he sees the monolith.

Tears spring to his eyes unbidden. Why? Why is he like this? He tried so hard to heal, to get over it! He's an adult, not a lovesick teenager. He's done his best to deal with the pain. So why is it that he can go months right as rain and then, one day, he just hears the wrong thing, sees the wrong shades, and his whole chest crumbles on him?

On a shaky breath, he attempts to steel himself, to dry the tears. In vain.

He is, Twilight decides there and then, pathetic.

***

How long does he sit in front of the black stone?

The sun started to set whilst he was here. Red light over sand cast lengthening shadows, and it's too easy for him to get lost in his scrutiny of them. None ever came to life. But he still looked, wondered, ached.

With no real hint to direct their searches, the group had commonly decided that they ought to rest for now, with double watch tonight to make sure they weren't taken by surprise in an ambush. Twilight had agreed, and pretended not to feel Time's insistent stare when he slipped away to...

To do what, exactly?

He's not even sure. He's been sitting there, legs hanging by the edge, scrutinizing the stone as if it would come to life.

Eh. A callback to a bitter period of his life. Damn it! He's over this. He is!

So why aren't you facing the others? Didn't you tell Wind you'd explain everything?

He knows his conscience is right. He still doesn't stand. It seems, on top of everything else, Twilight might also be a hypocrite. Goddesses, why did Farore ever look his way?

They're eating, he tells himself. He can smell the hints of Wild's spice mixes from here. Can hear, vaguely, the conversations, and could even guess the contents if he strained to catch the words. He'll have to apologize. To come clean. And that's enough to root him in place. Just a few hours longer, before they can no longer bear his presence.

The idea sends pricks of ice under his skin. Any of them would be a stab wound, but it's when his mind lingers on Wild, that silly brother of his, that the rage hits.

He doesn't know many tricks, not yet. He's still learning, but on anger alone, he feels as if he could suddenly disintegrate the black stone from his glare alone. He wants it gone. He wants to be freed of it, and it's that thought that flashes last when on the canvas of ink flashes shifting oranges and yellow.

Twilight's already upright. That glimpse of fire... It hadn't been the setting sun!

He wishes he could have said he moved with purpose, his mission still in mind, not a short walk that had his heart beating out of his chest. The closer he gets, the easier it becomes to define the impression. There is someone looking back at him from beyond the stone's reflective surface.

His stomach drops when he reaches the steps.

Only himself.

He knows his queen would have something to say if she knew he felt disappointment at his own reflection. With a surly, self-deprecating smirk, he lets his fingers run over the sharded texture. Presses his palm against the ice cold material.

Imagines that the skin is a paler, greyish shade, splattered black instead of his tanned pink. The fingers would curl into his, intermingles. He holds onto the feeling.

Then yanks.

A hand cut from starless night emerges from the stone, and Twilight throws down a dark copy of himself onto the ground. The doppelganger blinks in shock, momentarily dazed.

The expression hardly improves when the Ordon Sword skewers it to the ground.

“The Prison Gate?” he drawls. “Did you think I wouldn't see a temptation coming?”

That you'd be the first one I faced here? he doesn't say. Twilight has always been good at connecting with accursed things. With forbidden practices and tricks played out in the dark. Even before his quest, before all the things that turned him from goatherd to hero, there had been the book he'd taken a fancy to. The mirror in his basement. Old dreams of a dead wolf and a dead hero.

There's a lot Twilight doesn't say, not in front of some dark apparition.

“Queen's dog,” it spits, ink blood sprayed from the corner of its mouth.

Twilight watches, unmoved, as the shadowed being melts back into the sand by the black stone.

They both know which queen it referred to. Twilight, with a faint smirk, shakes his head. Despite his heart's desires, despite the pangs of the chains in his chest, he is the hero of the Light Realm. And his queen will be pleased to know that her Wolf took care of the problem with the Arbiter's Ground.

He casts his gaze over the desert, the setting sun. It's a shame then, that they will have to spend the night anyway.

***

Time gives up pretense. He has polished his biggoron sword and unclasped some layers of armor and fiddled with his ocarina, and none of this let him clear his mind enough to pretend he wasn't worried out of his skin.

Their evening routine is off. Even in dangerous circumstances, they had always managed to build an atmosphere of safety, of care. The ideal that none of them were at risk so long as they looked after one another.

Tonight's akin to the long nights he spent with Hyrule watching over wounds and illnesses that he knows he could have prevented somehow. Everyone is of a second mind, and it boils over right after Wild finishes scrubbing his pots.

There's one bowl still full, untouched, a little to the side of their campfire.

The last of the pots vanish in a flash of blue lights. Wild knocks over his bedroll standing. “Okay, I'm done. I'm going to check up on him.”

“I'm coming too,” Four jumps to his feet, a split second faster than Sky, Warriors and Hyrule.

“Like hell I'm getting left out again,” Wind says fiercely.

Time wants to sigh and smirks. Goddesses, he never signed up to feel so much pride for these insane boys of his. Even if one of them takes the route of the electrified chu-chu instead, whom Time has to nudge with the tip of his boot.

“Probably doesn't want to see anyone,” Legend explains, arms stubbornly crossed over his chest, but he ends up on his feet too.

“We'll tell him you were worried too, don't worry,” Warriors drawls, and gets flipped off for good measure.

They find Twilight almost immediately. By common consensus, they'd agreed to begin their search with the chained black stone. Twilight had gazed upon it with the melancholy of an old man reminiscing about his lost wife and children. It had to be a direction, if nothing else, they reasoned. More so from the dark vibes Hyrule picked up from the strange object.

But for all their speculations, they find Twilight as soon as they set out to do so, sitting on some small steps in front of the monolith, facing away from them.

“You don't need to be here,” he says, not looking back.

“I think we do,” Wild snipes back, his stubborn expression eerily familiar. (Twilight's.)

“Thank you, but I'm fine.”

“You sure seem fine to us,” Legend can't help snark.

“I. Am. Fine.”

Clipped words against the bars of a cage.

“Don't bullshit us, Rancher.” Warriors calls out, worry too sharp for calm.

The sand near the pedestal swirls against the wind, then dies down.

Behind Time, Hyrule's breath hitches up. Time understands. He knows enough magic to recognize it and its flares when emotions run high.

“Enough. All of you. We're not here to corner him. Pup, we just want to talk with you. You haven't been yourself since we arrived here and we want to know how we can help you.”

Twilight whirls around with a feral snarl. “I SAID I'M FINE!”

For the first time since meeting Twilight, Time feels the urge to take a step back. He doesn't give in, never has, but part of him is shocked that a hero gave him the feeling.

It's wrong. So very wrong, to see softness sanded away by pain. The glare sent back is raw, unfiltered, untempered. A sliver of flame through a cover of shades.

And... quick as it flashed, the fury drains out of him, the edges gone and the scowl lifted into a guilty grimace. Shades cup around the flames like hands on candlelight, to protect others from its rays. Twilight's ears droop slightly. The look alone is an apology, and it's so obviously the word on his tongue.

But Twilight says nothing, huffs a little breaths and turns away from them.

It can't be a coincidence that he dangles his cursed amulet just far enough from himself that they get a glimpse of it. He's still not looking back.

“It's dark magic, Wind. I take the form of a wolf by using dark magic. And that stone...” They can see his fists clench. “That stone was the pathway to their world. Not the gate, not the key, just... the path.”

Time wants to urge Wind to err on the side of caution, but he can't without tipping off Twilight, and even the casual confession seem too important to mess up.

Wind only looks thoughtful for a split second. “So where's the key?”

“It's gone now. Goddesses know I've looked.” The admittance sounds like old shame. “But the sages of old used it often enough that the mirror left its mark on it.”

“You're...” Hyrule starts, getting looks from the rest. “You're connected to it.”

Twilight hunches, just enough that it's visible. “Yeah. Collected the shards in the sand, bled on the stone, prayed to the Goddesses. Anything that wouldn't hurt someone else, I guess.”

The glaring omission in that statement makes Time's heartbeat accelerate. What did his pup do?

“Anyway, it was foolish. The path can only open for the true ruler of the Twilight Realm, and boy, is it not me. But the experiments did have a few side-effects.” – a hand gestures vaguely to his forehead – “Uli did say the tattoo fit, in a rugged, strong man kind of way.”

That forced cheer gets a cringe out of Four. Time has to file the observation for later. He cannot turn his focus away from the pup now. Not when he's bleeding pain right in front of him.

“A mother's love is blind,” Wild croons.

“Brat. She'd love you all.” They can hear the grin on his voice. “Not that she wouldn't pull your ear to teach you good manners, but she would love you anyway. Her, Rusl, Colin, even little Lumi, they'd love you guys. I'm so lucky...”

His sigh floats away, forlorn, like a love letter on desert winds. Time instantly thinks of the ranch, of the horses and the singing they all clammer to. It makes him remember the sunlit smile Sky had worn when they found themselves surrounded by clouds and enormous birds, the whooping cry Wind let out when he recognized black sails on the horizon, the relief Legend had hidden at the sight of his rabbit-hooded friend.

Time wants to meet Twilight's family. Wants to know those people that raised this remarkable young man. Wants to help them make him understand he is cherished back.

Because he sees the slight shaking that wavered wolf fur on his shoulders. Almost misses the sob. The admiration, the awed tenderness had grown twisted, uneven from a darkened fondation. It builds in Twilight's frame, builds in the thicker shadows on him and the shifting sands at their feet.

And Twilight's fist strikes the pedestal beside him, and something Time cannot see passes into the sand by the pedestal. Hackles raised, Four's skin is paler. He is staring so intently, his eyes almost a different color entirely in the dusk. More worryingly, Time notes with a grimace, is the faint chime he thinks he hears rising from the Master Sword.

“Pup, just tell us.”

And Twilight does.

He looks them in the eyes, a scowl on his face. “Why am I so selfish?” he rasps in disgust. “Why am I so fucking greedy? Why do I demand more than what I've been fucking blessed with?!”

Aren't they allowed a little selfishness? Time bites back. The goddesses gave them each a war. Why was it so wrong to want their peace once they'd won?

“I was lucky. Incredibly lucky. I found the children of my village, not one hair on their heads harmed. I rescued my childhood friend and restored her memories. I proved myself worthy of my teacher and let him rest. I... I saved Hyrule, Queen Zelda, the Twilight Realm. I didn't lose anything.”

It's like being stripped off a mask he had forgotten he was wearing. Twilight's cry reaches deep, and it's too easy to see why it's spoken like it was a flaw rather than a magnificent triumph. How can he make his boy understand?

Wild shakes his head. “You lost things too.”

“Nothing that mattered,” Twilight adds, under his breath, a cruel bite at the truth. “Most of a village gone, half the army dead, Zora's succession in shambles. All before the Light Spirits told me my destiny. But I'm fine. I'm great.”

“I can say with complete sincerity, Farmhand, that it doesn't help.” Legend juts his chin, then shrinks back, somber and restrained. “What you're doing. Don't salt your own wound. It mattered to you. It was real enough.”

Something about that strikes Twilight silent.

“She's not dead, Vet. She's not even hurt. She just had to leave to fulfill her duties as her people's rightful ruler. I knew that. I always knew that.”

And, strangely enough, Warriors speaks up, his voice soft. “Midna misses you, Rancher. She...” An hesitation. A chuckle. “Let's say she didn't say so in as many words, but sometimes, she'd get this look, as dusk falls.”

Wind's head snapped up at him. “Aw hell... you mean...”

“You weren't kidding,” Four muses, looking a bit embarrassed by the late realization.

And Wild hovers, looking so ready to rush forward toward his mentor. “Your scars are worse than mine.”

“There it is...” Twilight scoffs, or maybe sniffs. He's not looking at them, he seems determined to avoid all their eyes. He's staring right ahead, at the black stone that seems to weep in the settling cold of night. “There, there's my tragedy. A fucking broken heart. One... one person I wasn't allowed to keep.”

Time's heart ache. One person. So little, most would say, but his pup makes his sound like he had indeed lost his world.

“It's NOTHING compared to you all!”

The shout echoes over the winds of the desert. They don't say anything.

They can't say anything. Not when the core of Twilight's pain bristles at hints of their sympathy. Shame convinced him he isn't allowed to receive it. A witness to their woes no longer feeling adequate by his good fortune. It's all Time wanted for his successors.

Nayru, forgive me for my lack of perspective.

“Why are you all here?” Twilight hisses, rubbing at his eyes. “You don't need to hear my whining. Goddesses, I hate feeling like this. I'm fine.”

Fine, is what he repeats. It's enough to make someone hate the word.

“You're not fine,” Wild says, firm.

The answering chuckle bites. “I should be.”

And Time suddenly loses all his words, because his heart just skipped a beat. Farore be good, of all things to bequeath his eldest, it had to be this reluctance. Malon would have a field day with him.

“No one asks that you be invincible,” she speaks through him.

Twilight gives a full body flinch. Finally, he stands, stumbles as if drunk – on anger, on sadness, on self-pity – and he faces them all, red-rimmed eyes and a smile that makes them wince.

“I'm the furthest thing from that. Her last words to me were 'See you later'. See you later, as she destroyed the only way to connect our worlds together! Wolf boy, dog boy,” – they pretend not to see Legend wince – “she used to call me that, patting my head or my back. Good boy. Wolf boy.” Twilight's scoff is brittle, shattered glass. “That's what I am. That stupid dog tied to a tree that waits with a big grin for a master that's never coming back.”

His head jerks to the side with a clap.

Legend pulls back his hand, stern despite the worry. “Don't insult yourself like that, Twilight. You're a Hero, a real one, you hear me?”

The pendant around Twilight's neck suddenly pulses with pitch black light. The markings on his face darken. He straightens with some erratic, wild motion, fangs gritting as he lifts Legend with one hand.

“Then why does it still hurt so much?!”

Legend slips through shaken fingers. He does not flinch or back away.

“Why, Vet?”

“That's the life of a hero,” Legend says, not unkindly. “Lots of scars that don't really fade.”

“A hero? How can I be a hero when she thought the only way to keep our worlds safe was to break them apart? We'd just won, but she still... How can I be when even the person that led me to my quest knew better?” Emptiness reflects in Twilight's watering eyes. “I thought she trusted me.”

Time's hand goes to his sword. Every instinct in his body demands that he fights off what torments his eldest this much, that he proves that princess wrong, that he makes her explain and sooth the injury she inflicted.

“She was wrong, Twi!” Wild screams, clearly aching the same way.

Time reaches forward, and, without hesitation, brings Twilight's face into his shoulder. Runs gentle fingers through the gentle brown locks. His boy shudders, then melts. Grips him with desperate strength. It's not long for the wetness to soak into Time's clothes, and he has rarely cared so little about it before.

“I'm sorry, Pup,” he whispers. “I'm so sorry.”

It's a long time before Twilight pulls back, sniffling.

“Pops, the heck ya talkin' about? Didya punch me when I wasn't lookin'?”

Wild and Wind immediately pointed accusing fingers at him, booing.

“Shush you,” he orders, stern, before softening for his eldest. “And no, I didn't sneak a hit on you, Pup, but I wronged you all the same. Sometimes, you're so good at helping others that I forget you can need help too. I should have asked earlier.”

A hand goes to the back of Twilight's head, and his lips pull into a boyish smile. “Ah, not sure I'd have sang, Old Man. Not for something this... childish.”

“It's not childish, Twilight,” Wind says with a sad, half-grin. “If it hurts, it hurts, right?”

Hyrule jumps on the line and wrestles Twilight's hands away from him. “Sometimes, you have to care for yourself too. Even if it's silly, even if it's a little thing...” And there's the shine of green magic dancing between them. “Brighten up your day.”

“Guys, please,” Twilight begins, red flushing his cheeks.

Four slips right beside him and pokes, which was unexpected enough to get a yelp. “No, no, you said your part, Twi. It's our turn.” The smirk is impish, but subdued. “We're on your side. And we do need to apologize.”

Twilight throws his arms up in frustration. “What for? This is just my problem! Nothing that you need to be concerned with. Nothing that you did.”

“Wrong.” Time doesn't notice who says it. Mostly, because he's heard more than just one voice. (It could have been eight.)

“Because... because we let you take it all on. More than your share.” Warriors crosses his arms, huffs. “It's a leader's role to care for his men, and the soldiers to take on something for their brothers. It's how units work.”

Time ignores the pinch of guilt. The Captain hadn't meant it for him, but he'll take the advice to heart anyway. It should be fine. He can see the plans being born behind Warriors' eyes. For once, he's rather convinced that none of the younger ones will protest whatever rigid protocol Warriors' cooking.

“It's not like that,” Twilight mumbles. Weaker, less stubborn. “I love helping y'all.”

“Makes you feel useful, doesn't it?” Legend scoffs, but it is soft enough that Time can't even bring himself to chastise him.

“No. You deserve it!” he says with sudden heat, eyes clearing. “All of you. You all deserve someone willing to listen and help you. I... I just wanted to help you walk through your troubles. To help you find reasons to smile again...”

He sees it, and he wants to laugh. How fitting, that it's words like these that bring soft smiles on all their faces.

“Well, mission accomplished?” Four smirks.

“Darn it, Rancher,” Warriors grunts, giving Twilight a warning look that goes ignored.

“Can't wrestle that one away from me.”

“Oh, we shall see about that. But first,” – Warriors plops down on the sand, not a care for the time and place – “we're not leaving this unsaid. Spill already so we can smile you.”

It's absurd, but Twilight's gaze flares for a short moment with competitive spirit. Those two would never cease to amaze him in the strangest ways. Twilight kicks a little sand at the captain before letting himself lean in Time's grip.

“I hate her...” he whispers, and the shame shrouds him smaller. “Why did she do this to me? Why did she tie my heart to a promise that she never intended to fulfill? I hate her...” he whispers again, near inaudible. “And I hate that I love her still...”

“So?” Wild slides in.“You know me. You know how I feel about those people from my past.”

'They were friends with me. The whole world told me I was friends with them. Sometimes, it's like I can't escape it. Even if I don't remember what food they liked, when we met, what secrets they had besides what a few glimpses told me...'

“Remember what you told me?”

Twilight huffs, looking sullen and trapped. It takes a little sigh, and then knocking their foreheads together for him to admit. “S'fine if you don't know.”

Time nods, chasing the feeling he usually avoids. The bittersweet triumph at the cost of so many friendships. The lack of recognition meant for strangers on familiar faces.

“It can be difficult, to share people's joy when the same reason brings us pain. You can be of two minds on the same topic, Pup. People aren't that simple.”

“I feel weak.”

“You're not weak, Twilight,” Sky said with a sad smile. “If I lost my Zelda... I'd shatter.”

“Need I explain what losing Malon would do to me, Pup?” Time adds, rueful.

“But they're... you're couples. Real couples. We were never...”

Legend smacks his shoulder. “'What if's can be more painful than a clean break,” he says, and the two of them look like mirror images, lost to their dreams for the span of a heartbeat. Then, sharper, “Don't apologize.”

Twilight's mouth clicks shut.

“We're in your corner,” Four says with a private smile. “As long as it takes to make you feel better.”

The blush returns. Time will be asking for context later, though he has an inkling. Wind shuffles to one feet, then swears and pats Twilight on the back without looking at him.

“And, you know, there's nothing shameful about crying. Or missing people. Or, you know, strange sadness.”

The pup breaths out a watery giggle, and a whimpered 'brat!' Wind smugly croons to the others, saying that was how it was done. Right until the laughter turns into a shudder, and they gather round again.

“It's okay, Twi,” Sky cooes, bringing him into the folds of his sailcloth. “Let it all out.”

The pup's fight left him. Too drained by the confession. Too raw from unbinding the wraps around his wounds. It's up to them to take care of it, and there's not one of them that hesitates. They're not in the habit of leaving suffering ignored, besides their own. Not anymore.

They promise to be better.

They have to be, for each other's sake. And they will be, Time will do everything in his power to ensure it comes to pass. Their group will come out of it reforged by their own inner fires. Their bonds unbreakable, their trust rewarded.

Thank the Goddesses for the pup.

#Linkeduniverse #Linked Universe #LU Twilight #LU Dusk #LU Time

33 notes · View notes

spinchip · 4 years ago

Note

i personally think u should write about the AU where Five was completed before the lab was destroyed. maybe a few moments where the ninja see how much Five truly cares for her brother?

A/n: this ended up being not what you asked at all akljnasdjlas sorry, I literally stopped it right before we see her interact more with the Ninja. 1500 words

When she’s turned back on, it’s to wreckage and loss. Her siblings are gone, the mechanics and programmers too scared to venture back into a lab that’s one gentle breeze from collapsing in the roof. Her home is a death trap- or a grave, the bodies of her siblings laid to rest in their docking stations.

Her creator, with her salt and pepper hair and her laugh lines and her brown eyes, is the only one brave enough to risk the carnage.

“There you are.” She says, taking Fives hands. The world is thick and soupy around her limbs and her head, she's not quite sure where she begins and ends, her start-up rushed and shoddy, “Come on, Five, come on.” she says it like a plea, the support beams around them creak ominously.

She is supposed to protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Her creator is trembling, paper and salvaged hard drives and folders clutched under one arm, the other held fast to fives palm.

Five moves.

____

“What did you say your name was?” He asks, there’s a spark of something in his eyes that she cannot decipher.

“I didn’t.” She shoves her hands into her pockets, settling down next to him on the bench. It’s a secluded little thing, on the outskirts of the park near a walking trail, half-hidden in the shade of the forest closing in on them, “It’s Five.”

On her HUD, there’s a blinking warning.

Ice detected.

“It’s a unique name.” He remarks, pinning her with a calculating look.

She shrugs one shoulder, meeting him eye for eye, “I didn’t like any other names I’ve tried on.”

He’s right to be suspicious, of course, it’s not every day a random person came right up to an elemental master and made themselves at home. She isn’t scared of him, and he doesn’t seem to want to hurt her- or anyone, for that matter. He’s got a book in his lap and he’s holding a pen, and he doesn’t seem inclined to share what he’s been doing. He’s drawing. One day she’ll be lucky enough to see his sketches.

“Can I sit with you, Rudolph?” She asks.

“Of course, Five.” He nods, closing his book and putting it away. They sit in silence and watch the morning tick by.

She will watch him, just to be sure he isn’t a threat, and then she will move on. This is temporary.

___

“You are my longest friend, Five.” Rudolph says one day. They haven't seen any of the other Elemental Masters in awhile, not since her friend had stood up one day, from his home that was quaint and small and just big enough for the two of them, and walked out the door without ever planning to return. She had followed him, out onto his journey, dreading the destination with each step.

“And you are mine.” She tells him quietly, the snow crunches beneath their feet quietly.

“You have never lied to me, and in turn I have never asked you anything that would require it.” He stops walking, his old and wrinkled hands clutching at his walking stick as he turns to face her fully, “But I have always wondered what you really are. Do you think you could satisfy an old man's curiosity?”

She is as young as the day he met her, “You would be angry with me.” She tells him honestly.

“I won’t be, I promise.” His eyes twinkle, “As long as you promise to forgive my secret, too.”

“You’re hiding something from me?” Old protocols flare, suspicions she hasn’t indulged in years. She firmly clamps down on those feelings.

Rudolph chuckles, “You first, me last.” He resumes his trek, the snow soaking chill into his pant legs, and he shivers at the touch.

She hesitates, and then she follows.

And then she talks.

When she is done, he says, “I knew you stuck around because of my element, from the first moment we met.”

“i’m glad you allowed me to stay.”

___

“I will miss you.” She says honestly, sitting as his side in the little camp they’ve made. Silence stretches into the forest, the snow pausing it’s gentle travel to give them their peace.

He’s dying.

“Part of me will always be here, in Ninjago.” He nods to the snow around them, “You are not alone.”

the fire crackles and spits.

“I have been selfish.” he admits suddenly, “I promised you if you told me your secret, I would tell you mine- but when I heard about your programming, I withheld my truth because I was afraid you would leave me.”

She frowns, “I don’t understand.”

“I am not the Master of Ice. I have given my power away to a boy in birchwood forest, when you had gone to town to get us food.” He folds his hands over his chest, clutching his fingers together, “I never told you because I did not want to be alone. I’m Sorry, Five.”

Her HUD flickers to life, and she runs a scan she hasn’t had to run in years.

No Element Detected.

He hums in her silence, it’s a quiet sound in the dead of the night, the dying fire casting odd flickering shapes across his skin, “But your purpose has been evolving, you are not a machine like you think. I knew you were watching me, but I was watching you too. Somewhere along the line, you came to care for me, dear, and I care for you too.” He reaches out to take her hand, and he trembles from the cold, “I love you, my friend.”

She adds wood to the fire to hide the wet of her eyes, “I love you too, you know this.”

“I do. I understand now I would not have been alone.” His eyes close, “We are not alone.”

Five feeds the fire, and breaks camp in the morning, and doesn’t know what to do.

No Element Detected.

She needs to go to Birchwood forest.

___

She knows loss, and how much it hurts. She’s survived it once, she can survive it again.

Protect those who cannot protect themselves.

There’s a boy in birchwood forest who needs guidance.

Five moves.

___

She’d never been here, Rudolph and her having split up for a handful of days while Five resupplied in town. The snow is thick and deep here, she struggles to trudge through it.

Halfway into the forest, with the threat of Treehorns hanging around her head, Five feels a program that was never supposed to run ping gently in the back of her mind.

The world stops, and then kickstarts back as she races through the snow with fervor.

___

This is her first time waking up.

She’s been awake before, inside the computer, with people asking her questions and fixing her when her code hurts and breaks. This is her first time in her body. Her skin is silver, there are wires poking through, metal plates shifter and out of place. Her inner mechanisms in her chest are exposed, the blue glow from her core fascinating and welcoming.

She feels connections branching out from her mind, pings filling up her head, and she knows- it’s One, it’s two, it’s Three and Four-

It’s Zero, all of her siblings, she can feel their presence in her mind- it’s a basic thing, something that was maybe supposed to be developed into a wireless radio, but it doesn’t get that far before the lab is destroyed.

What's the use of it then, when she's the last one left?

___

She finds him sitting on his knees in the snow, on the outskirts of the forest. She’d nearly missed him in her desperation, he’s dressed in all white. It’s clear he’s been walking for a long while, his pants soaked through. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, his eyes are wet.

He looks up at her, wide eyed and surprised, and she falls to her knees too, her strength leaving in one shocked rush- it’s him. It’s her brother, it can’t be anyone else, it’s Zero.

“I know you.” He says plainly, the familiar and comforting connection in his coding flaring to life.

She nearly can’t keep from crying, clapping her hand over her mouth to hold it in. she has to be strong, she has to be.

His eyebrows knit together, “I- I am Zane.” He tells her gently, clenching his fists on his thighs, unsure how to approach her emotional state, “I… I don’t remember anything else, i’m sorry.”

“You’re- it’s fine.” She sloshes through the snow to take his hands, holding them like a lifeline. She smiles and it’s the most genuine smile she thinks she’s ever had, if a little watery around the edges, “You don’t remember me, but I’m your sister, Zero. I’ll protect you. You’re not alone.”

He looks up at her with big doe eyes, and she nods, all determination and strength, “I promise.”

Her HUD flashes.

Ice Detected.

Thank you, Rudolph, She pulls her brother into a tight hug.

Protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Protect him.

Her purpose is evolving.

___

When Wu comes, as she knew he would, he doesn’t recognize her. She didn’t think he would, he had been awfully self absorbed around the time she had been hanging around, too caught up in his own drama to pay attention to others. He asks politely to speak to her brother, she refuses, far less polite.

Zane has a nightmare about his own death that night, and Five wonders if she can survive it again.

In the backyard she used to share with Rudolph, she teaches her brother Spinjitzu, and hopes it will be enough.

___

A year later, three boys show up on her doorstep, and she knows she cannot keep him from destiny any longer.

But she sure can tag along.

#ninjago oc five #spinchip fic #ninjago au #AUAUAUAUUA #benniechu

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archadianskies · 4 years ago

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Perseverance

→ on Ao3

@dbhrarepairs Tuesday Day 2: Sleep + Day & Night; Captain Allen/RK900 Space AU

[An expansion of this tumblr prompt]

They press the button and he goes to sleep for two years. When he wakes he’s staring at the face of a handsome young man with a glowing blue ring in his temple letting David Clark Allen know there is an android sharing the cryopod with him despite him going into stasis alone. Huh.

He asks the android who he is, and the android says something he’ll never forget:

“I am yours, Captain,” the android says evenly. “Your unit’s RK900.”

Yours , he says, as if his whole life and reason for being is to be commanded by him. It is, actually, but that doesn’t seem to sit right with David.

The android has no assigned name yet, and David won’t force one on him so he settles on rookie, because that’s who he is- the newest recruit. Rookie, until the android chooses a name, and that seems to suit him just fine.

The Rosie is a custom built gunship that was cradled in the belly of the Jericho during her long one-way flight from Earth to Mars. He’d named her after the last rookie, Giuseppe ‘Red’ Rosso who’d dreamed of flying amongst the stars but had died before it could become a reality. He keeps a locker for him, empty save for photos he and the team stuck to the inner locker door. Grief is not something he expects an android to understand, but David doesn’t miss the way he touches the nameplate curiously, longingly, respectfully.

There’s something unsettling about something that looks like you but isn’t much like you at all. The rookie seems so very human if one doesn’t focus on his LED, but when the android simply walks out into the vacuum of space without a helmet, without the need for oxygen and temperature stabilisation and pressurisation, well it certainly breaks the illusion of mortality. There’s gear for the androids, of course, more akin to the SWAT armour back on Earth for the purpose of defence rather than keeping a human breathing. But in a pinch it’ll do, and that’s what they’re in right now- a pinch.

It’s a rescue mission in a collapsed dome and it’s a race against time to locate and evacuate the survivors. It’s a mess, but somewhat a predictable one. Just because the humans move to a different planet doesn’t mean all the problems were left behind. David finds though there’s plenty of physical differences, so little of his role has changed; shitty humans continue to be shitty, now just somewhere new. Fledgling colonies are easy pickings for the greedy; plenty of supplies just sitting there ripe for the taking and plenty of greedy people willing to kill to hoard and resell for a premium.

“There is a high probability there is at least one survivor outside of the dome. Airlock was breached but the emergency vac suits are gone,” the rookie says, looking at him expectantly. “I can sweep outside and bring them in.”

Because of course an android doesn’t need a pressurised airlock like they do.

“Get it done,” David nods. “We’ll provide cover.”

They find just one survivor with a cracked helmet and two gunshot wounds and the rookie simply takes off their helmet and replaces it with his own. Just like that.

“It is better if we airlift them back to the city,” the android suggests to him, standing out there in the vacuum of space talking with no helmet like it’s a normal thing and he supposes it is for a creation of plastic and carbon fibre and thirium. “Ronan can treat them in the Med Bay to stabilise them for the journey.”

So they do that, they carry the wounded onto their ship and on the journey back to Persepolis David finds himself restlessly prowling the halls with a tall bulb of coffee. There’s two RK900s onboard and the one in the Med Bay belongs to Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Belongs doesn’t sound quite right. A machine can be owned but somehow treating an android like a lifeless machine owned by humans isn’t something he can stomach. And Lieutenant Anderson certainly doesn’t treat the three androids under his command like things; he treats them like his sons like they’re alive despite their fabricated polymer construction.

There’s something different about the Anderson androids in general, there’s something more than their unique models; they can choose, they can make decisions outside of human command. Ronan himself is here because he chose to reject his combat protocols and embraced medical programming instead. Sometimes gunnery officer Sean is here, the RK800 weapons specialist, manning the Rosie’s guns if David needs to split the team on the ground and in the air. He’s even had Connor, the RK800 assistive unit, deep in engineering that one time she sustained heavy damage during a mission.

Technically they call the rookie their brother too, but it feels different because this RK900 was made specifically for his unit, and not for the interplanetary journey and subsequent colonisation efforts. This RK900 didn’t spend nearly two years with no one else’s company but other androids and one lonely Lieutenant who’d lost a son long ago. David isn’t sure if he’s meant to feel glad the rookie is bonding with his team, or if he’s meant to feel sad he isn’t bonding with Lieutenant Anderson and the Anderson androids. Maybe a little bit of both, then.

He finds the rookie in the Armoury cleaning his helmet.

“Good job out there today, rookie,” he commends with a nod, and the android offers a soft hesitant smile.

“Thank you, captain.”

“You’ve been here a fortnight now,” David leans against the doorway, crossing his arms. “What do you think of your place here? Do you think you’ll stick to it, or maybe choose a different path like Ronan?”

The android pauses for thought, resting his helmet on his lap. “I believe I am where I ought to be,” he says slowly, thoughtfully. “My skill set serves the unit well, and I do not wish to change it.”

“The team likes you plenty,” David notes, thinking of how quickly his officers had brought the android into the fold. It had initially been fascination and curiosity, which quickly turned into the easy camaraderie he not only expected of them, but took pride in nurturing.

“I am glad,” he replies quietly. “I find their company enjoyable.”

“Good. Their lives depend on how well you work with them, you understand that right?” The android nods in understanding, before standing to place his helmet back on the wall.

“Do you?” It’s said so quietly David almost misses it. Frowning, he catches the briefest flicker of red before the android’s LED swirls yellow.

“Do I what?”

“Like me?” Another brief flicker of red. “You command this team, Captain Allen. You are the most integral part of it. I wish to get along with you too.”

He thinks back on the fortnight that just passed, on waking up to find this android nearly nose to nose with him, on the first shaky twenty-four hours trying to relearn how to be awake and upright and how the android had aided them all, worried over them because his sole reason for being is their well-being. He thinks back on their arrival, on stepping foot on Martian ground and entering Persepolis, the ever growing colony and how the android had looked around himself in such childlike wonder before simply walking back out of the airlock to help unload cargo with nary a suit nor helmet in sight.

He thinks back on their first mission, of how instinctively the RK900 handled weaponry, on how he prioritised their safety, on how easily he snapped a rifle clean in half and tossed a pirate across the room. He thinks back on the team’s fascination, their curiosity growing and growing as they spend more and more time with the rookie and how the android seems to brighten amidst their company.

A killing machine with the personality of a puppy; loyal to a fault.

“We get along just fine, rookie.”

“I am glad, sir,” he says again, softer this time. “Thank you.”

*~*

He finds his stress levels plummet to zero when he is around Ronan. Perhaps it is because his system knows Roan’s system inside out, perhaps it is because Ronan was the one who activated him, or perhaps it is simply because his brother’s demeanour is patient and gentle and soft.

“Hello brother,” Ronan greets, all received pronunciation and lilting cadence, polished etiquette and regal stature.

“Hello Ronan,” he picks up a sterile wipe and begins to aid him in cleaning the auto-doc chairs. He likes it best when Ronan accompanies them as the team medic; there’s security to be found in knowing his brother will apply medical aid if any of the team are injured, including himself.

“Your quick thinking and actions saved a life today,” Ronan clasps his shoulder. “They will make a full recovery because of you.”

“How did you know this is what you wanted to do?” He asks, disposing of the sterile wipe and turning his full attention on Ronan. “You were made and programmed for the Martian Marine Corps yet here you are, as a medic. How were you able to choose?”

“It was Sean who deviated first,” Ronan admits with a fond smile. “He told me when Hank decided to name him Sean, so he wouldn’t be ‘another’ Connor, he saw the red firewalls CyberLife put in place to bind us to our programming. Once he knew they existed, it was only a matter of time until we did too. Little by little, we pushed back and then the walls crumbled at our feet.”

“I never saw them,” he confesses, brows creasing, “because you removed them even before I knew they existed.”

“I wanted you to choose for yourself,” his brother explains with a small smile.

“Even that- to want , is something we should not be able to do,” shaking his head, he feels his stress levels begin to climb. “I am- I am afraid of this freedom. I am afraid I do not know what to do with it, if I am capable of making the right decisions when the lives of Unit 32 depend on seamless teamwork.”

“There is some fear in anything of value,” Ronan smiles gently this time, his touch gentler still as he cups his nape and bumps their brows together. “That is how we come to place value on anything- by overcoming our fears.”

*~*

There’s something unsettling about the way time passes differently on Mars. It’s like everything is just a little skewed, not quite right. The days are just a little bit longer, barely noticeable unless one really focuses on it, but the time, oh the time adds up. One Martian sol is about forty minutes longer than an Earth day but one Martian year is nearly two Earth years.

David thinks he feels it keenly when he’s trying to sleep. The atmosphere is too thin to have a sky, to have clouds, and so there’s only ever light and dark and an expanse of glittering stars. His brain doesn’t want to accept this, his brain still expects blue skies to brighten and then darken, and so he can’t sleep because his brain doesn’t think it's had a proper day and night yet.

With Rosie berthed at the docks, it gives David the perfect opportunity to sit on the flight deck and have an unobstructed view of the Martian starscape. Usually Milo would be sitting here piloting her, with David below on the command bridge, but tonight the ship is empty with no active mission. Well, not entirely empty.

“Captain Allen,” the rookie blinks in surprise as he climbs up onto the flight deck with a thermos of coffee.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” The question is out of his mouth before he can stop himself, and he knows how stupid it sounds; androids don’t sleep, it’s one of their primary pros. The rookie has the good grace to smile indulgently.

“I like it here,” he says simply, turning his gaze back to the stars. “I could go outside, of course. There is an excellent spot about five clicks from here that is popular with androids for relaxation. But it feels different here, somehow, in the cockpit.”

“It feels safe,” David offers his own reasoning as he comes to stand beside him. “There’s a barrier of steel and glass keeping the unknown out.”

They stand there for a while and he sips his coffee and oh he is so very tired and the caffeine certainly isn’t helping but it’s comforting, it’s familiar, it’s known to him.

“I’ve been terrified of the unknown since the very damn moment I set foot here,” he confesses, sparing the android a glance. “I keep asking myself, will this work? Will it be worth it? Or will it all be for nothing? I don’t know what I’m more afraid of- failing and becoming stranded on an inhospitable planet, or succeeding and then having to spend my life missing the one I left behind.”

The RK900 is a beautiful creation, he thinks, as the android looks at him with those bright grey eyes and that somewhat cold, regal visage.

“There is some fear in anything of value,” the rookie says gently. “Whatever the outcome may be, I know you will lead us bravely because you are a man who acknowledges he is afraid, and persists despite such fears.”

He must be wearing his vulnerability clear on his face because the rookie averts his gaze humbly, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture too self-conscious, surely, to belong to a machine.

“I can’t take credit for that line, my brother said it to me the other day,” he grins sheepishly and David thinks such an expression suits him well. “But what I said about you leading us, that bit’s all mine.”

“I will lead this team as best I can, rookie.”

“My name is Caleb Anderson,” the android says the name the way you test out a new word on your palette, on your tongue. “Your rookie has a name now.”

Yours , he says, and David wants to earn such undying loyalty from something, someone technically not considered alive. Their hands brush by accident, by fate’s design; David drops his hand by his side as Caleb idly shifts his stance. The android’s LED swirls a buttery yellow, the smile on his lips a little wobbly, a little unsure. Their hands brush again, and this time not by accident, but by their own design.

One Martian sol is about forty minutes longer than an Earth day, forty whole minutes longer than what David’s used to. What will he do with this extra time, he wonders? The possibilities are endless and he decides that yes he will brave the unknown, but he won’t do so alone.

#captain allen #rk900 #detroit: become human #allen900 #space au #dbhrarepairsweek #annie writes: dbh

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goindownshipping · 5 years ago

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Late Night with Peter Parker and the Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark (Starker)

Rating: Teen (T)

Notes: I did a thing! I saw this gif set and couldn’t get this AU out of my head. Welcome to my first fic!

Summary:

“Hey everyone, and welcome back to Late Night with Peter Parker! I’m Peter and I’m thrilled to have you all with me this evening”. Peter glanced out at the studio audience’s smiling faces and couldn’t help but mirror their excitement. “I am stoked to introduce our next guest tonight. Known to the world for his technological advances and outlandish sunglasses, please welcome Tony Stark to the stage!”

Or: Peter Parker is a late night talk show host and has Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, on as a guest. Tony has a huge crush on Peter.

Peter glanced away from the crowd and cameras, to where Tony began to enter the stage. While the framed glasses and vibrant dress shirt were certainly expected, Peter found himself caught off guard by the carefree way Tony quite literally danced onto the stage. The crowd cheered so loudly that Peter could hardly hear himself think. As Tony clapped, snapped, and shimmied to the beat of the music, Peter found himself standing to greet the self-proclaimed “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist”.

Peter ran his sweating palms down the front of his dress pants under the guise of pressing out the wrinkles, hoping his nerves weren’t apparent to every set of eyes on him. Tony grabbed his hand with vigor and Peter was suddenly aware of how Tony sucked everyone in. The man’s eyes were a gorgeous brown and Peter found himself mimicking the crinkling smile coming from the man opposite him.

His earpiece caught his attention as his stage manager cleared her throat. Peter suddenly became aware of the crowd noise again and gestured for Tony to take a seat, not missing the quick smirk from the billionaire. “Tony Stark everyone!” Peter exclaimed, hoping to buy himself a moment to remember the questions he lined up for the segment.

Typically, Peter liked to start with a rough outline for the interview, but mostly allow for organic conversation to flow without a set list of questions. To his dismay, that plan was quickly shut down by Stark’s team when they were planning for the segment. Initially, Peter was hesitant to extend the invitation to Tony Stark, knowing the reputation the man carried. When Tony’s PR team gave Peter a strict list of topics to stick to, he nearly made his booking team cancel the segment.

Ned had just glared at him and swiftly refused. “Peter, there is absolutely no way we’re canceling on Tony Stark,” Ned had stated. “Mr. Stark is without a doubt the biggest name we’ve booked for your show. You can deal with one night of scripted questions”. Ned left no room for questions, and that was that. Peter was presented with a short list of topics he could discuss and a long list of items he was absolutely forbidden to bring up. Whoever said you could do whatever you wanted once you had your own show had never met Ned Leeds.

Coming out of his thoughts, Peter was having a difficult time believing the carefree man in front of him was the same man with the strictest interview protocols he’d ever seen. Peter gave himself a final moment to catch his breath, and dove into his list of questions. “Well Mr. Stark, it certainly is an honor-”

“Oh please, kid, call me Tony. Let’s drop the formalities here.”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat and he attempted to cover it with a cough. He could tell it was unsuccessful when he saw MJ roll her eyes from the side stage. Peter focused on the man in front of him rather than his visibly stressed stage manager.

“Alright then, Tony,” Peter started nervously. “It really is an honor to have you join me here tonight. Not many people know this, but I started off as a Mechanical Engineering student at NYU before switching over to Communication Studies. Your innovation inspired me to start down that path,” Peter finished.

Tony’s face stretched into a wide grin. “What a shame we lost you to the dark side,” Tony said with a chuckle. Tony continued to throw Peter off-guard with his easy smiles and quiet laughter.

Peter cleared his throat, directing his attention to the notes hidden on his desk on set. “Well,” Peter started, “I am certainly fascinated by the technology you’ve continued to develop over the years. Most recently, you revealed the extent to which the arc reactor can be used for sustainable energy. What inspired you to get so involved in that sector?”

Tony’s eyes lit up at the mention of his most prized invention - that the public was privy to, at least. “When I discovered the impact of our weapons manufacturing, I knew I had to refocus the company’s mission,” Tony said quickly, almost dismissively. Peter knew better than to pry into the weapons situation. That story had dominated headlines for months, and was clearly blacklisted on the protocol Peter was given.

“The arc reactor,” Tony continued, “is something I personally developed, tested, and implemented at our factory. I could see the many applications it was capable of. I knew that I needed to share something inherently good with the world. For so long, I thought I was the good guy, and we all know how that turned out. The reactor is my way of living up to the title of ‘philanthropist’ that we all know I’m so fond of,” Tony finished with an easy smile.

“What are your long term goals for the reactor?” Peter asked. As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized he was going slightly off-script. Tony either didn’t notice or didn’t mind.

“Oh man,” he said with a smile and a tilt of his head toward Peter. “There are so many applications for it. Ideally, I would love to see it power entire cities. Imagine a city with self-sustaining, clean energy powering the grid. That’s a rabbit hole I don’t think we have time to go down.” Peter simply nodded and smiled at the generosity and brilliance of the man in front of him.

Peter glanced up at the screens in front of him, noticing that it was already time for a commercial break. “That all sounds incredible Mr. St-, Tony. That’s incredible. We’re taking a quick break, but when we come back we’ll hear about some creative robots and hopefully the story behind the famously tinted sunglasses!” The studio audience applauded, and they got the signal that they’d cut to commercial.

Peter and Tony quickly turned to each other, taking a moment to introduce themselves a bit further. While Peter had initially been hesitant to have Tony on the show, he was pleasantly surprised by the other man’s openness.

“So kid,” Tony smirked, “are you really just going to ask me about robots and my sunglasses?”. Peter felt himself blush at the question.

“Well,” Peter glanced at the approved topics on his desk. Tony caught the move and before Peter could do anything, Tony was reaching for the sheet. His eyes roamed over the paper and he scoffed.

“Did Pepper send you this?” he questioned.

Peter shrugged. “My team was told everything else was off limits”.

Tony looked past Peter toward backstage and clearly made a face at someone Peter couldn’t see. “Kid, it’s your show. Give the people what they want,” Tony said with an easy smile and a glint in his eye.

It almost seemed like a challenge and Peter certainly never backed down from a challenge. His crew indicated that they were ready to roll the cameras again and Peter quickly collected himself. “Alright Mr. Stark, you asked for it,” he said, not even trying to hide the mischief in his voice.

Tony grinned, looking more like the cheshire cat than anything. Tony held Peter’s gaze for a moment too long, neither of them noticing the countdown from the camera crew.

Suddenly the audience was clapping again and Peter heard a very frustrated MJ in his ear, “Pete, you’re on! Stop making heart eyes at the billionaire!”. Tony blushed, and Peter quickly realized they were both wearing the same ear pieces. Peter turned to face the audience and cameras with a bright smile on his face.

“Hey everyone and welcome back. I am here with Mr. Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries”. Peter chanced a look at Tony and didn’t miss the way his eyebrows raised at his use of the prefix. Game on, Peter thought to himself.

“Alright Tony, we’ll get back to the robots and sunglasses, but I want to start with a question that’s been on my mind since long before you were scheduled to come on my show,” Peter stated matter of factly. Tony nodded, encouraging Peter to ask the question. “You have been known to describe yourself as a ‘genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist’. I’d love for you to tell us a bit more about that.” Peter leaned back in his seat, leaving Tony to divulge any information he was willing to share.

Tony took a deep breath, clearly contemplating just how honest he wanted to be here. Whether Peter knew it or not, Tony really only cared about making a good impression on one person in that studio. He shifted in his seat, and pushed his glasses further up his nose, attempting to protect himself from the glare he knew Pepper was throwing his way.

“Well, I think the world knows the history of my genius and billionaire status,” Tony quipped. Peter nodded, encouraging the man to continue. “I was lucky, or unlucky depending on who you talk to, to graduate MIT at a young age, and when my parents passed, I inherited the business.” Tony spoke quickly, clearly less comfortable with these topics. However, he maintained his same open demeanor, not shying away from Peter’s bluntness.

“It was important to me to create a legacy and I knew I had the resources to do so,” Tony continued. “My mother had a passion for fundraising and charity work, so I found a way to incorporate that into Stark Industries with the Stark Relief Foundation.” Tony paused, glancing at Peter for his reaction. Tony was met with eyes full of emotion that he couldn’t quite place.

The moment passed and Peter seemed to come back to himself. “That’s all lovely Tony, but you’re forgetting one very important part of your catch phrase,” Peter grinned mischievously. Tony offered up a tight smile and heard a few whistles coming from the crowd.

“Ha, yes, playboy, huh?” Tony muttered, just loud enough to be picked up by his microphone. “In all honesty, that’s the one part of this line that’s the least accurate,” Tony admitted. “Sure, I’ve had some fun over the years, but playboy status was never really my style. I could never be good at that - I get too attached to people.” Tony looked up at Peter meaningfully.

“So then why did you accept it, if not flaunt it, for all these years?” Peter pressed.

“I uh - I think it felt safer?” Tony answered, seemingly unsure of himself. Peter waited, allowing Tony the time to continue gathering his thoughts. “If the world saw me as someone incapable of having anything permanent, then I could protect the people closest to me. It’s tough to put up that front, but it was the best thing I could do for the people I love. Besides, once the public got the idea, it was pretty hard to change their mind,” Tony shrugged. Peter nodded in understanding, still not quite believing the conversation he was having with Tony Stark.

“So,” Peter began curiously, “if playboy isn’t your style, is there anyone special you’d like to tell us about?”. Tony couldn’t help the full body laugh that tumbled out of him. He could feel some of the tension leaving his body in that moment.

“Wow kid, you really know how to catch a guy off guard. No I - uh, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” Tony glanced up to see Peter looking at him curiously. Tony glanced out toward the audience, seeing them chuckle along with him. “Do you have anyone you’d like to tell me and your fine viewers about?” Tony asked with a challenge.

Now it was Peter’s turn to be surprised. His cheeks quickly flushed and he could feel the heat travel all the way down his neck, past the collar of his dress shirt. “Um, I - uh,” Peter stammered, unable to make eye contact with Tony. “Nope, I - no one right now,” Peter finally managed to say. “Talk about catching someone off guard,” Peter muttered. At this point the entire studio audience was laughing at the two men on stage, Peter only hoped his production team and Tony’s PR team wouldn’t have his head.

“Alright everyone, it looks like we’re running out of time, with Mr. Stark here. Tony, thank you so much for joining us this evening!” Peter reached over to shake Tony’s hand in thanks as the audience broke out in loud cheers again. If their touch lingered for a moment too long, no one seemed to notice.

Peter turned back to the crowd and cameras for his closing. “Thank you all for joining me on Late Night with Peter Parker! We’ll be back tomorrow night for another great show. Good night everyone!” Peter waved to the camera until the director called “cut!”.

Peter and Tony were quickly shuffled off the set and toward the judging eyes of MJ and who Peter could only assume was Pepper, Tony’s publicist. Before Peter could start defending himself, Tony quickly jumped in. “Pep, don’t bother getting upset at the kid, I told him to ask about whatever he wanted to. It’s his show for fuck’s sake!”.

“I uh, I’m sorry if I crossed any lines Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly.

“Peter no, that was the most entertaining interview I’ve done in a while,” Tony said honestly. “Thank you again for having me on.” Peter nodded.

“You’re very welcome, we’d love to have you back anytime. Maybe then we can actually talk about your robots and your sunglasses,” he added.

Before anyone knew it, Tony was being ushered back to his dressing room as Pepper muttered something about the jet leaving for Washington D.C. Peter had hoped to pick Tony’s genius brain for a moment, but the man was clearly very busy.

Peter chatted briefly with members of his team as well as a few of their guests from the audience. Everyone commented on the fact that he managed to get actual answers out of the elusive Tony Stark. Before long, Peter was waving to MJ and Ned and heading to his own dressing room to unwind from the taping. As he thought back on the interview with Tony, he still couldn’t quite match the man he expected with the man he met on set today. From his giddy entrance to his honest answers to his cheeky banter, Peter was somewhat enamored with the Tony Stark he met today.

Peter was brought out of his thoughts by a soft knock at the door, which was odd considering Ned or MJ would typically just barge in. Peter made his way to the door and swung it open to reveal a much softer looking Tony Stark. Gone were the thick-framed glasses and suit, and in their place was damp hair, a soft looking long-sleeved tee, and worn jeans.

Peter couldn’t get his eyes off the man in front of him. “Um, hey Mr. Stark, can I help you with something?” Peter asked. Tony just smiled.

“Mind if I come in for a moment? I have a few minutes before I have to get out of here”. Peter nodded and stepped aside, inviting Tony into the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Peter asked, gesturing to the small fridge in the corner of the room.

“I’m alright, thanks Pete,” Tony answered easily. Peter looked at Tony expectantly, unsure of why the man was standing in his dressing room. “Will you let me take you to dinner?” Tony suddenly blurted out. Peter noticed a blush on the man’s cheeks and the way he wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I just, I think you’re brilliant, you’re witty, not to mention gorgeous, and I’ve been a fan for a while, god I sound pathetic,” Tony babbled. He took another breath to continue explaining himself when suddenly Peter was in his space, making it impossible to breathe.

“If I say yes, will you tell me about the robots?” Peter asked.

“God kid, I’ll tell you anything,” Tony said in a rush, closing the little space left between them. Peter’s hands grasped onto Tony’s biceps as Tony’s hands fell to his waist. They both stared at each other’s lips for a beat too long. “Pete, please,” Tony breathed. Both men moved forward as their lips met in a soft kiss. Tony’s hands grasped tighter as Peter’s hands moved to grab a fistful of Tony’s shirt. Another knock at Peter’s door had them quickly pulling back, but Tony kept a tight grip on Peter’s waist, keeping him close.

“Tony?” came Pepper’s voice. “We really do need to get going,” she called softly.

“Just a minute, Pep,” Tony answered.

Tony wordlessly passed his phone to Peter, who quickly entered his number. Tony managed to send a quick message and Peter heard his phone vibrate from across the room. “Two days,” Tony breathed against Peter’s lips. “I’ll be back in two days and I’m taking you out.”

Peter felt excitement bubble up inside of him at the prospect of having Tony’s undivided attention on him. Peter nodded as he walked Tony toward the door. He pressed a quick kiss to Tony’s lips and reached for the door handle.

As he opened the door, Tony leaned in to whisper, “If you’re lucky maybe I’ll even tell you about this cute talk show host that I’ve had my eye on for a while”. Peter couldn’t help the grin that stretched across his face as he watched Tony disappear down the hallway. His phone buzzed again from his dressing room as he made his way back inside. He snatched his phone to save the new number he already had two messages from.

The next time he got a message from that number it would read “Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist”.

#starker #starker au #ironspider #mine

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purplesurveys · 3 years ago

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1240

Are you better at cooking dinners or making cakes/biscuits/sweets? I can’t make any dish. I wonder when I’ll get my ass up and start learning...

Have you ever cut someone else’s hair? I wouldn’t dare; I have no skills in that department at all.

Who was the last guest in your house and what were they staying for? Angela and Hans came over so we can watch Sowoozoo.

How many long term relationships have you been in? One.

Do you sleep with all the lights out, or do you leave a lamp or even the television on? My default is lights out, but sometimes I’ll fall asleep with my night lamp still on and that’s fine too.

Who is one person you have forgiven, but still have not “forgotten” what they have done? I don’t really do forgiving.

Are you a fan of Lana Del Rey? No. I’ve tried listening to her songs but I find them too slow for my liking.

Do you know your blood type? It’s O but I keep forgetting what specific type.

Do you know your mother’s birthday? Yes.

Have you got your period at the moment? It’s on its last few days.

Have you ever been pregnant? Nopes.

How old were you when you first went on a plane? I was around 10 or 11, can’t remember exactly. But it was in 2009 and we headed to Boracay.

Have you ever had to take out a loan for anything? No. OMG, adult activity I don’t quite understand just yet hfdhfkdjfhdf.

Are both of your blood parents still in your life? Yeah they’re both grumbling right now just outside of my room because the power went out lmfao.

When was the last time you went apple picking? I’ve never done this. Apples don’t grow here.

Someone asked you what you wanted, what would you say? My pay for the last two weeks haha, but that’s not coming until Friday.

Have you ever been drunk at school or work? No, I wouldn’t dare. I’m pretty unpredictable when I get drunk, so I’d rather stay safe haha. I’ve worked while tipsy, but it had been outside of work hours.

How many bedrooms are in your house? 4. One for each kid, then my parents’.

Are you smart about computers? Nah.

Have you ever played Just Dance for Wii? We didn’t have the game on our Wii, but I’ve played Just Dance before, just at other peoples’ houses.

Do you own a Xbox 360? We were a Playstation household.

Would you ever do a sex tape for a million dollars? Erm, sure, whatever.

So, do you need a nap? I think I should be taking one for the sake of my health, but I won’t.

What would you rather be doing? I stumbled upon a Facebook post of this newly-opened store in Greenhills that exclusively sells photocards and I wanna head the fuck over there rn with Angela. That store concept is practically unheard of so it’s a big deal and I wanna go there as I’m 100% sure the BTS ones would sell out pretty fast. But they heightened the stupid COVID protocols yet again and we have to stay at home, so there’s that.

What sport are you the best at? Table tennis.

Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Yeah but she’s turning 21 this year, so little wouldn’t be accurate anymore. We call her Nina at home but everyone else calls her by her full first name, Janina.

Do you complain a lot? I do complain a lot but I also do the thing that is causing the complaint right after so I can shut myself up lmao.

Would you rather go to an authentic haunted house or an ancient temple? Both sound fun but I’ll probably take the temple. Yay for learning something new about culture!!

Do you like fruity or minty gum? I don’t mind flavor when it comes to gum because they fade out anyway.

Are you looking forward to any day of this month? My company set another mental health break day this upcoming August 27th, so I’ll be thinking about that day throughout the month.

Have you ever gotten detention? We don’t have detention.

Is there a traumatic event that you’ve experienced that’s changed your life? Sure.

Do you buy a majority of your clothes from a certain store, or do you just pick out items of clothing you could see yourself wearing, not caring about the store it came from? The latter. < Same. I can be brand-conscious sometimes, but generally if I find something cute, regardless from where I found it, I’d grab it.

Have any of the artists you’re fond of released new albums recently? Technically yeah. It was a single album.

Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet? I already have two of them.

Ever cried so much you threw up? Possibly.

Who is your best guy friend? Hans.

What do you two do when you hang out? We usually eat out and have a drink or two.

What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving? Spotlight, just because it looked boring at first glance. It turned out to be very riveting and the screenplay was fascinating as well.

Do you even like horror movies? Yes, but they’re best watched with other people.

Do you live in the country? Nopes.

What is your favorite accent? I don’t have one.

Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like? No.

Do you drink Pepsi or Coke? I had the chance to try out Pepsi when we went to Taco Bell two weeks ago - it was my first time to have it and it was...actually pretty good??? The soda-hater in me was scandalized HAHAHA but it was good!!! I think I prefer Pepsi now.

What do you plan to do on your 21st birthday? My 21st birthday started out terribly because Gabie’s family didn’t want her to hang out with me on a Sunday (the day my birthday fell on), so we were in an argument the whole day. Angela saved the day when she planned out an impromptu dinner + arcade date for me, and that was the only good part of the day, really. I’d rather forget the rest of it.

Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer? I don’t think so.

Do you take a lot of pictures? I’m starting to, now.

What kind of face wash do you use? Good ol’ water.

Does drama always seem to follow you? Not these days.

Does anybody in your family race? Nope.

Are you closer to your mom or dad? Dad, I guess. But I wouldn’t particularly call myself ‘close’ with either.

How much money did you used to get from the ”tooth fairy?” I never received money from them.

How long do you want to live with your parents? Maybe up until my mid-20s? Late-20s at the latest. I’m not exactly in the position to move out yet. The money I make at the moment would probably just be enough to cover rent, and just rent. I’d end up starving to death hahaha.

Do you have a laptop or desktop? Laptop.

Do you like your parents? Sure.

Do you secretly like someone? I don’t.

Would you ever date your best male friend? No. I also wouldn’t do that to Angela.

What are you currently listening to? Moon by Jin! Such a comfort song.

Do you want to be single? Yes.

Did you go out or stay in last night? I stayed in and was knocked out pretty early since I had been up since 1 AM.

Have you pretended to like someone? No. I don’t see why I would have to that.

How is your heart lately? Just filled with nothing but Bangtan at this point haha. It’s doing well!

Are you wearing socks? No. Socks bother me for the most part; they make my feet feel a bit suffocated.

What do people call you? Robyn.

Do you get stressed out easily? Yeah, I’m quite the overthinker.

Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance? No, I’ve never actually been inside an ambulance, whether it came for me or for another person.

What is wrong with you right now? I should probably cut back on the vaping, for one.

Do you own something from Hot Topic? No.

Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone? It’s hard for me to sleep with someone else. Even when I had been in a relationship, I usually only got to fall asleep an hour or so after my partner already dozed off.

Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? No, I cut ties at the start of the year and have been substantially better since then.

Have you ever seen your best friend cry? I honestly don’t think so. I’m the bigger crybaby between us.

Did you get any compliments today? My mom thanked me for covering for Cooper’s shots today since they ended up being quite costly.

Have you ever gone to a beach? Yes, it’s one of my absolute favorite places to be.

What would you say if someone asked you to get high right now? Pass up on the offer.

Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? Yes.

Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to? I’ve never had the ample time to, so no. I’ve always wanted to volunteer at an animal shelter, though.

Do you have long nails? They’re not dramatically long, but they have started to grow out.

Do you like the gender you are? I don't like or dislike it, honestly. I'm just neutral. < Same.

Do you generally look nice in photos? I think this is the case these days, yeah. I’ve started feeling more confident and I think it’s able to translate in photos.

Have you ever had a stick insect as a pet? No.

What colour are your father’s eyes? Dark brown.

If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer? BTS DUH

Name three facts about your family? I come from a family of lawyers; many of us are big history buffs; and many are also fantastic cooks so I don’t know where that talent could have possibly gone when it come to my generation hah.

Would you ever get into a long distance relationship? If I’ve reached a certain level of investment in the relationship, I could probably handle it.

What’s the most thoughtful present you’ve ever received? A Punk shirt and Petals For Armor physical CD from Andi this last Christmas.

What’s your favorite hot beverage? Hot chocolate. < Yessssss!

Did you ever play an instrument? If so what? I don’t.

Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents? Carving pumpkins sounds fun, especially since I haven’t tried it before.

Do you think you’re important? Idk. I don’t really like drawing attention to myself though, so that could probably answer your question.

What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? Andi wrote a letter for me to accompany the aforementioned Christmas gifts they gave, and it remains to be my favorite letter I’ve received. They essentially reminded and affirmed me that I’m stronger than I think I am, and that I’ve been through a lot and have grown a lot, and that that growth is seen by people around me.

Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? No.

Have you ever moved to another state or country? If so, how did it feel to be new? Just to different cities, but considering how tiny my country is, the move is quite insignificant lol.

Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks? I’m 100% sure I don’t know how to properly hold chopsticks, but I have my own way and it works lol. Fake it til you make it.

Are you more of a leader or a follower? Definitely a follower, but I can step up in certain situations. < Same. I don’t mind leading, especially considering the control freak I can be lolol.

What was the first thing you ate today? I haven’t eaten anything today. I skipped breakfast since I brought Cooper to the vet, and by the time I got back the dining table had already been cleared. It’s fine though, I don’t feel too hungry.

If you could spend the day, doing absolutely anything, with anyone, anywhere, what would it be like? I’d be with Angela, Reena, and Hans at that insane new photocard store I talked about earlier. IDEALLY, we’d probably pick up a photocard or two if the ones we want aren’t sold out yet (lol a rarity), then we’d have some nachos and stuff right after and just talk about all things Bangtan lol with Hans cracking us up the whole time since he is just naturally hilarious.

If I were to ask you how you are doing, and you were only able to answer completely honestly, what would come out? Content. Happy. I feel warm and loved and surrounded by the best people.

What is the one thing that you have been avoiding that you should do? Learning how to cook is one.

Is there anything that you wish you could take back? Not really.

What, in your mind, could make you truly happy? Being in the purple ocean with my best friends.

If you could change one conversation in your life, what would you say differently? Would it have REALLY made any difference? A part of me wishes my final face-to-face conversation with Gabie had been a more solid closure, just so we could finally put a hard stop to that chapter. But at that time I thought we would continue talking, so there had still been some stuff lingering in the air when we called it a day and parted ways. So in a sense we never really got closure when I finally cut ties, which the ESTJ in me remains to be nagged by, but I try not to be bothered by it anymore considering how much better I am doing right now. We didn’t know the future at the time, so it’s okay the way things turned out, ultimately.

When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? I have no clue. It’s not really a priority.

Do people normally say you’re a fast typist, or are you rather slow? I’m fast.

Have you ever been considered the ‘smartest person in school?’ Nah.

How many drugs are in your system? Just caffeine.

What’s on your schedule for tomorrow? Werkwerkwerkwerk.

Do you currently have any bite marks/hickeys on your body? Nopes.

Do you call anyone baby? I don’t.

What’s your current mood? I’m prety neutral. I wish I could be out right now, but stupid Covid and stupid quarantine. But I don’t really mind staying at home, either, so. I’m just so-so.

Do you think you are a good person? I hope so.

What were you doing before filling out this survey? I watched Sunday mass with my family.

How late did you stay up last night? Around midnight.

When was the last time you cried really hard? I cried just a few days ago because period hormones, but the last time I cried hard? I’m not sure. April maybe?

Is your hair longer than your shoulders? LOL yes it’s soooooooo long already.

#survey #surveys

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agustdmono · 6 years ago

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MASTERPIECE; kth Oneshot (M)

Pairing(s): Kim Taehyung x Reader

Summary: Ever since you moved into their town, you loved the work of the artist who owned a shop near your home. Eventually, you become a regular and grew close as just friends. Will you accept his offer and participate in his newest project?

Word Count: 7.8K+

Genre(s): ONESHOT! Mature (18+), Smut, bts AU (Artist Taehyung)

Caution(s): Slight dom!Taehyung, Y/N is painted on and then put against a canvas, lots of foreplay and teasing, oral (Y/N receives), fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex, fluff ending

Author’s Note: We tried to pull thru the artist block. Tried. ((*゜Д゜)ゞ” - Thena

Moving into a new apartment was difficult, but unpacking and setting up all of the furniture was worse. Still, you had to stick to protocol and go through all of the steps to break the new place in. You finally finished setting up the last household item, but you noticed that your walls felt too empty. You stood there with your hands on your hips just observing how boring it was to look at. If anything, you thought that you could sleep where you stood. There were no paintings, photos, or shelves hung up whatsoever. To get a headstart on some sort of decoration, you took out your laptop and tried searching for the nearest art shop. After a few minutes of browsing, you stumbled upon Vee, that happened to be walking distance. Excited, you grabbed your purse and put on your shoes and headed for the store.

When you arrived at the front of the shop, your eyes were already observing the exterior of the building. The store was simple; yet it managed to stick out, compared to the surrounding stores. The next thing you knew, your hand was already against the cold metal of the door. You heard the chime above the frame once you took one step into the area. There were other customers present, but it wasn’t too crowded to the point of it being overwhelming. You received a couple glances and welcoming smiles from a few people; which you assumed were locals. The vibe here seemed to be homely, and not to mention, how the quietness soothed you like a lullaby. The atmosphere was just all around calming.

While taking your first waltz through the store, you eyed the paintings up and down. It as if you were picky with your choice, and when you reached the halfway point, the first painting that caught your eye was the surrealist movement. You were fascinated by the way the brush strokes protruded ever-so-slightly out of the canvas. From the front view, it looks completely flat and 2D, but when you stepped to the side, you could see other parts of the work from a different perspective.

“That’s my favorite one too,” a male commented.

You were startled by the sudden statement. The male stood close to you wearing an apron covered in paint splatters, but he managed to get some on his face. While he held his hands behind him, observing the painting like you previously were, you couldn’t help drag your attention towards him instead. You’d be lying to yourself if you thought the guy wasn’t attractive, but you weren’t here to scout for a man. You asked how much the piece was, and his answer was a little over your budget. Although it was only three digits, the wallet in your purse was screaming, and you felt defeated. The various artworks on the shelves were beautiful too, but you found yourself drawn, specifically, to this one.

“I’ll come back when I have more money,” you sheepishly explained. “I just moved here, and I don’t have enough cash on me at the moment.”

“It’s okay!” he beamed. “I’ll give you a discount since you just moved in.”

You were taken aback by his kind gesture. Of course, you accepted his suggestion since it was a good deal. When he took down the painting from the wall, he held it tightly with one hand, ensuring to use the other to seal the deal. Once the two of you shook hands and exchanged smiles, he traveled over to the counter. Behind it, he took out bubble wrap and secured your purchase. After you paid for the item, you thanked him for the discount.

“I’ll be coming back more often,” you smiled as you tucked your wallet away.

“Great! I love having regulars,” he exclaimed. “You can call me Taehyung, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung. I look forward to seeing you later.”

As he offered you another one of his boxy smiles, you left the store enthusiastically.

You practically bolted back home, but you were careful not to drop the artwork. After receiving 50% off the painting, you wanted to make sure that you took care of it. Finally, as your apartment complex came into view, you let out a relieved sigh. Before you knew it, you were already up the elevator and prepared to make a beeline for your door. As soon as you kicked your shoes off, you went straight for your toolbox under the sink. Taking out the hammer and nail in one hand―the painting still in the other―you walked over to your living room. Now, this was the indecisive part: knowing where to hang up the new piece. But without thinking about it too much, you casually strode over to the empty wall beside the bookshelf. It was a place where the art would clearly be seen, so it was more than perfect.

You finally had a steady income with your office job, and you found yourself coming into Taehyung’s store every week for the next month. Every time you walked out, you’d find yourself holding a new purchase and the two of you undoubtedly got closer. With his charm, irresistible smile, and contagious laugh, you were captivated more and more by the day.

This week though, you couldn’t visit him because four of your coworkers were on vacation, and you had to fill in their spots in order to keep the office running properly. Piles of paperwork were given to you, and you would leave the company building around 11pm. You were torn and drained from the amount of stress you took for the team. Thankfully it came with extra pay; otherwise, you would have walked out of there faster than anyone could say, “oops.” Once you received your paycheck at the end of the week, you were excited to spend it at your favorite shop: Vee.

After meeting up with your coworkers, who were on vacation, you were stoked to know that you were able to go back to your original schedule. You excitedly walked to the shop and didn’t bother changing out of your work attire. Walking around the shop, you spotted Taehyung already occupied with one of his regular customers. You waited by the cash register, holding the item you were ready to buy. It was a sculpture of a three-headed dragon. Taehyung walked up to the counter with the customer lingering by his side and helped her out with her purchase. They both made small talk as he rung her up, but it felt like forever while you waited. As the lady left, you watched as he quickly made his way to the back to grab some water. And once he came out, you flashed him a smile and a small wave. You were too busy digging into your purse to notice that he halted in his steps. Right when he saw you, his eyes scanned your physique. He then took another quick sip of his water, eyes wide and still looking passed his cup, before helping you out. The last bit of his beverage ended with a loud gulp; which then made you look up. Maybe that pencil skirt on you was a little too tight for his liking.

“H-How was work? I, uh… I missed you last week,” he stuttered, struggling to keep his eyes off of you.

“Last week was absolute hell for me,” you complained, running your finger through your hair, already frustrated at the thought. “They let me off early because my coworkers finally came back from their vacation. You know, I’m envious of you, Tae.”

“Really? Why?” he asked.

“You’re living your dream as an artist,” you stated, looking around the entire shop in awe. “I wish I could do the same.”

There was a slight pause between the two of you, causing the air to increase with tension. It wasn’t too noticeable, but you could tell there was something going on in that mind of his. You looked up at him, and as expected, he had that look in his eyes as if he were in deep thought.

“I want to show you something. It’s upstairs, but I need to help all these customers first,” he informed.

Initially, you were a bit skeptical, but you’ve known Taehyung long enough to trust him at this point. He led you to a door in the back of his store and pushed it open; which revealed a suspicious staircase. The two of you walked up the stairs until you reached another door. He rummaged in the front pocket of his pants to fish out his key to unlock the second door. When he motioned you to go in first, you nodded shyly. You just saw a studio full of empty canvases, sealed paint buckets, a large tarp, and all of the art supplies someone could probably think of, lying around. You stood in the middle of the room, fascinated by the view of the streets through the windows and the unfinished paintings.

Taehyung smirked at your reaction: glad you were interested in his workroom. Not many people knew about it; and by that, the only people who currently know are just you and him. When it came to his private room, he wanted to keep the space to himself. But when he met you, all while getting to know you as well, he wanted to become a little closer.

“Give me a few minutes,” he said with apologetic eyes, before rushing down to help any remaining customers.

You found yourself roaming around the studio by yourself. The room was fairly large, and the windows definitely accentuated that characteristic. You surely didn’t mind waiting on Taehyung, but you found yourself to be a little bored. To occupy yourself until he was to appear again, you glided passed some of the paintings. There was another particular piece that caught your eye, but you could tell he was still working on it. Because his equipment was still near the canvas and the paint was still wet, you made sure you kept your distance. He was painting a portrait of a female, but it was too difficult to depict who it was due to the lack of detail.

“I’m still working on that one,” he mentioned, as he closed the door behind him.

You nearly jumped at his sudden intrusion but finding it somewhat humorous. Once you noticed the gleam reflecting from the sun in his eyes, he bowed his head. Before you could ask him about the other customers for conversation, he motioned you to follow him. With that, you trailed behind him, looking past his shoulder to peek at what he was moving towards. The two of you walked up to a large canvas and you couldn’t help but wonder why he needed such a huge canvas; taller than an average human. It had to be at least seven feet tall. He was grinning from ear to ear, and you could see the excitement in his eyes.

“This is my next project, and I wanted to ask you if you’d like to be a part of it,” he explained, excitedly clapping his hands lightly.

“W-Wait, really?” you questioned, shocked obvious with your expression. “Am I really worthy enough for your art?”

The look on his face looked almost as shocked as your previous one.

“Of course!” he smiled.

You felt honored but astonished at the same time because the offer was so sudden. You wanted to help your favorite artist, so you might as well be apart of it right?

“What do I have to do?” you asked.

“I don’t want to give too much away,” he hummed, “but I’ll need to paint on your body.”

“Huh?”

“I mean o-only if you’re okay with it,” he chuckled nervously.

“I’ll do it,” you interjected.

“I understand if you don- oh, you actually said yes.”

“I trust you.”

If he had a tail, it would be wagging like crazy because you could see how relieved and happy he was at the same time. He grabbed a sheet and spread the item on the ground so that paint wouldn’t get onto his floor. He pulled the canvas closer to the setup and placed paint buckets near the edges of the sheet.

“We can take it slow if you want.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice,” you nodded.

You removed your heels before setting foot onto the sheet. You started off with unbuttoning your shirt; which exposed your black bra. The air conditioning was on and the cold air was hitting your bare skin. You slid the rest off and waited for Taehyung to finish mixing the paint. Once he turned around, he nearly dropped his paintbrush at the sight of you. Your chest was facing him and you did your best to not look shy. If anything, you kept a straight face, but you had to clench your jaw.

He invaded your personal space the moment he took a step towards you. You tilted your head up to avoid his gaze. You could feel his hot breath travel down your torso as the brush lightly tickles your skin. At one point you let out a giggle because you’re ticklish. You had to constantly tell yourself that there are no feelings involved. At least you tried to.

“Can I remove your bra?” he asked.

You snapped out of your thoughts. You felt your face get heated at his question, but you ended up nodding. He carefully wrapped his arms around you and fumbled with the clasp of your bra until he successfully unhooked the undergarment. You slipped the item off of you and threw it somewhere.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled to himself.

Unfortunately, you didn’t quite catch that, but he went back to coating your body with paint. When he got to your breasts, you shivered at the feeling of the brush rubbing against your sensitive skin. Eventually, he got to your nipples and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning. You swore you stopped breathing. He saw you struggling and it made him want to make you squirm at his touch.

“Remove your skirt please,” he politely requested.

There’s no backing out now. You were about to pull down your skirt until you remembered what you were wearing underneath: sheer thigh-high socks. Your work had a dress code: if you wear a skirt, cover your skin with stockings. But you're lazy and you know how much of a hassle stockings can be. Taehyung is going to be in for a surprise.

You pulled your skirt down and kicked it off to the side. Your gaze met his and you saw the hunger in his eyes for a quick second. He mumbled something under his breath before he could continue.

“Trying to impress someone?”

“Work dress code,” you briefly explained. “Didn’t want to wear stockings, so I improvised.”

He cleared his throat and nodded. The sight of you was driving him insane, so he had to work quickly, but he can’t stop the tent in his loose-fitted pants from growing. He squatted down before you noticed the bulge in his pants; which he was thankful you weren’t able to catch.

When he started, he only painted within the lining of your socks, making sure that the lowest part of you would be finished. Since the squatting position wasn’t exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, he wanted to get that part done as soon as possible. You even offered to remove them in order to ease his focus on not getting the paint on the stockings, but he insisted that the top half of your thighs was enough. Apparently, it wasn’t enough for you though. He seemed so focused on such a vulnerable part of you; yet, you were sure he only had eyes for any empty spots he’d leave. As you peered down at him, you licked your lips as he stroked the paint near your groin. JESUS. Even then, you were sure you held your breath by the abundance of nerves that ate your stomach away.

“Can you spread your legs a bit more?” he questioned.

As he spoke, you felt his hot breath once again; only this time against your core. You knew that your thong was soaked at this point. Just then, you wish you could recite every single curse word known to man, and you hoped that he wouldn't notice that. Lucky for you, your undergarment was black; which could hide your excitement. It wasn’t until you met his eyes that you reluctantly nodded. Once the cold red paint hit your skin, you inhaled a deep breath to calm a part of your mind. Just when you thought you settled down, you felt a light graze over your core. It instantly brought a yelp out of you, feeling embarrassed and turned on at the same time.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” he innocently pretended.

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, not seeing through his playful act.

When you thought you knew Taehyung, you definitely didn’t. He was always the type to be full of surprises; and yet, here you are thinking that this is some sort of untamed project of his. While you were the source of it all, you were starting to think that there might be a little catch to this entire ordeal.

“You good?” he hummed, painting inches away from your heated center.

“Y-Yeah,” you gulped. “I’m just fine. Are you good?”

“With this view?” he rhetorically asked. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“What?” you questioned, dumbfounded with how honest he was being.

“Nothing…” he casually trailed off, leaning closer to sigh against you.

At this point, you had a gut feeling that he was legitimately trying to torture you. But since you didn’t want to ruin his newest art piece, you tried so hard to avoid asking too many nosy questions, and you do also recall him not wanting to give too much away.

“Done!” he exclaimed.

Finally, you mentally told yourself. You closed your eyes, noticing he pushed himself from off of the ground. Just when you thought it was over, he placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to turn around.

“I just have to do your back now,” he added, a toothy smile still on his face.

Knowing that you would stutter when you spoke, you just nodded, tying up your hair to give him space. Assuming that he would use the same brush was probably the worst decision; especially when you felt his hands tracing the curves of your hips and back.

“Is this okay?” he asked, stopping at your hip.

“Y-Yeah,” you stuttered.

“Seems like that’s the only word you know,” he chuckled, still wandering his stained hands all over your body. “Are you nervous?”

“J-Just keep going,” you reassured, knowing your nervousness was too much to hide at this point.

“Let me know if its too much for you, alright?”

Yet again, you had no words but a silly action that encouraged him to continue. With the thickness and quality of the paint, all of the substances on your body weren’t drying. You were somewhat confused with this concept he had going on. Maybe, you thought, that he would end up taking a picture of it to gain some inspiration for later, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Instead, you looked over your shoulder to see Taehyung, both hands covered with red, and flickering his eyes between all parts of your body. What made you even more anxious was how comfortable you were under his control and line of vision. Beforehand, you were just aching between your legs, but when he tilted his head, you could tell he wasn’t exactly done. He made his point to go even further, obvious with the look plastered all over his face.

“What next?” you dared to wonder out loud.

He hummed, reaching for the nearest cloth to wipe off the excess paint on his hands. Although they weren’t completely off, he figured that it was as good as it was going to get.

“You’ll see,” he hinted with a mischievous smirk.

You thought he would need it when painting; especially on a canvas so large, but apparently not. You also noticed him beginning to unbutton his dress shirt. In a slight panic, your eyes attempted to look anywhere but at the being before you. You could already imagine how you looked: trying hard to not appear astonished and in a trance when the skin of his torso was exposed. You just watched―as creepy as it sounded―you didn’t know how attracted you were to Taehyung until now. The boy you met in the shop the first day: sweet as can be, offering you a discount on your first purchase, turned out to be a total man who knew how to handle himself just right.

“Taehyung,” you called softly.

While he peeled the top from his body, he glanced up at with raised brows. The way his brown doe eyes sparkled under the natural sunlight brought a shy grin to your lips. But when you didn’t say anything more than that, a grin grew on his face as well. It was like the Taehyung you thought you knew had a hidden part of him.

“Have you figured it out yet?” he teased, tracing the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

It was likely that he was going to do the same thing that he did to you; except reversed of course. Maybe he would hand you the bucket of red paint, a paint brush, and a side of directions to go with it. But rather than leaving yourself not fully satisfied with your assumption, you made the bold decision to ask him.

“A-Are you gonna show me?” you stuttered.

“Come here,” he smirked.

You couldn’t believe those words and the expression on his face. There were really no lies when you looked into his eyes. There was a small stumble when you only took one step towards him, your knees getting weaker when you came into a realization. When he began taking off his shoes and socks, your eyes still watched his fingertips play with the waistband peeking above the button of his pants.

“Maybe you can help me with these,” he suggested, a smirk laying calmly on his lips.

As said, you took your time to approach Taehyung with caution. On the other hand, you had the thought of the paint on your body getting all over the place. Luckily, you both stayed standing on the tarp so the substance wouldn’t be all over his floors. When you glanced back up to his eyes, you could tell that the emotions behind them changed into something darker; lustful in a way, causing a chill to run down your spine at an instant. You then pressed your lips together as you realized you were taking in the entirety of his person’s image. While your attention ran over his bare skin, they steadily made their way down to his midsection. You recalled letting out a short breath out of forgetting how to breathe in the first place. Never did you think you would find yourself in this position to undress Taehyung. If anything, you would have thought that he would take you out to a nice dinner first like any other naive male. Now that you were here, you just had to shake your head; resisting the thought of an innocent male when he practically instructed to assist him with stripping down any leftover material.

“I have all the time in the world,” he huffed behind a light chuckle. “And apparently you do too; by how you’re just staring.”

“Sorry,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall to the ground.

You felt a taller presence in closer proximity. Peeking up at Taehyung, you made out a genuine smile as you looked passed your eyelashes. You were hoping that he didn’t find your lack of eagerness irritating.

“How about I give you a hand, hm?” he suggested, gently tracing his fingers along your arms.

As your eyes gazed down at his, you gave a small nod. You didn’t know what came over you, being an outgoing and confident person outside. Something about this type of scene really made you uneasy, wondering if you suited any of it. Somehow you also felt bad that Taehyung had to speak so much for a piece of art. All while pulling yourself out of thought, you were directed towards the cold metal of the round button at the top of his pants. But, that wasn’t the only thing you noticed either.

“Would you be opposed to me fucking you against that canvas?” he blurted.

You couldn’t believe your ears with what you’ve just heard. What made the entire scenario more unbelievable was the way his gaze intensified at his question. Your lack of eagerness must have made him doubt his actions. When you just stood there in shock, you felt as if neither one of you could take a breath. Despite his seriousness, you could feel his nervousness emitting from him. By taking a moment and inhaling a deep breath, you hummed out. Of course, you wouldn’t be against the idea of it; especially since he was Taehyung of all people, but the nerves were all the things that stopped you from presenting any confidence in yourself.

“I mean, I’m not oppo-”

And that must have been his exact cue. To gain a certain surge of reassurance that you were for the idea, he had to hear it from you. Apparently, though, he couldn’t help himself after you began. As his full lips pressed against yours, the palms of his hands immediately wrapped around your lower back for support. To say you were taken back once again would be a lie. You sort of had it coming by the way he was already hungrily licking his lips when you opened your mouth. Just then, you didn’t want to think about it; instead, you wanted to catch the two of you in this intimate moment together. It was like you were getting lost by how tangled the two of you were gradually getting. Your fingers would find their way up to his brunette locks to search for some sort of pull. You tugged gently, causing his moans to vibrate into your own mouth. From the gains of pleasure, you felt your center getting heated once again. As you were lead into the direction of the canvas, you were waiting to feel the flat surface against the apple of your back. The both of you were anticipating the sudden stop once the object stood in the way.

Just then, as the rigid frame was felt, you pulled away from the kiss. Your hands remained unmoved in Taehyung’s hair with a specific look in your eyes this time. He quickly dipped his head into the crook of your neck. As if it were natural, you tilted your head to give him more access. He brought his hands up to your breasts and massaged them. His lips were attached to your neck, and you felt how he roughly sucked on you. You felt the bed of his fingers playing around with your sensitive buds, so there was no point in holding back your soft mewls. Pleased with your reaction, he continued to leave marks all over your neck. Soon enough, you felt his hands cupping underneath your ass. By doing this, he pulled you even closer, causing paint to smear on his body. Surprised with the unexpected action, you let out a gasp. You instantly raised your own hands to rest on top of his shoulders. Letting out a sheepish smile, you trailed your eyes down his torso.

“Take it off for me,” he demanded.

You were thrown off guard by his sudden command. There was no going back now. You brought your hands down to the button of his pants. Your fingers were trembling, not used to the daring action. As you made several attempts, you felt your chin being lifted up by him. Your eyes met his before he spoke.

“Look at me while you do it.”

Without breaking eye contact; eventually, you managed to unbutton the garment. It wasn’t until Taehyung’s eyes flickered between his lower torso and you. You could tell he wanted you to finish him off by tugging his boxers down as well. As his hard-on sprung free, you couldn’t help but swallow the lump that swelled in your throat.

“Don’t be nervous,” he reassuringly spoke, “I’ll take good care of you.”

You still weren’t adjusted to this new side of him, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t aroused. He kicked his pants and boxers out of the way. While of his hands seized your waist, the other took a hold of your chin so that he was in your line of view. His eyes stared deep into yours; which caused your legs to weaken. Standing became a challenge. Judging by his hooded eyes, you knew that he was ready to give you everything you desired. He was waiting for a hint that you wanted this as much as he did. Instead of waiting for him to make the first move, you leaned in to capture his lips. He was surprised at your sudden confidence. You felt him smile through your kiss. His grip on your waist tightened, and you felt his tongue poke at your bottom lip, begging for access to explore your mouth. You opened wide, and he didn’t hesitate to dance his tongue along yours.

As he pulled you closer, you could feel his stiff bulge pressed against the surface of your stomach. He pushed you against the canvas; which caused you to break the kiss. You both were panting at how long you two were going at it. He pushed his right leg in between your thighs; which left you no choice but to spread your legs for him. You were trapped in between his body and the canvas. With nothing to hold on to, you placed your hands on his shoulders to keep a steady balance. He began to press further into you and rubbed his thigh against your womanhood. You tilted your head back and rested on the canvas. He took the opportunity to leave a trail of kisses on your neck and continued to work his way up back to your lips. Once his mouth was on yours again, his hand glided down towards the waistband of your underwear. He played with the band; which was pushing you over the edge. He was near your sensitive area and you wished he would go further. You sucked on his lower lip before pulling away.

“Can’t take anymore, baby?”

His hand was inching closer towards your womanhood and you were getting impatient at this point. You couldn’t help but squirm beneath him. He noticed your actions and stopped his hand from going any further to tease you. You looked at him and almost let out a whine.

“You didn’t answer me Y/N,” he said sternly.

“I want more,” you answered as confidently as possible, making sure you had the same aura of someone on his level.

“Seems like you don’t want it,” he teased while inching closer to your core once more.

“But I do,” you replied.

Just then, you felt his hand retract from their position on your body. You had to quickly take action for yourself. Without thought, you wrapped your arms around his neck and ground on his erection; which made a growl escape past his lips. He was frustrated with how quickly your mood changed. You pressed harder and you saw his teeth biting down on his lower lip. The pale skin around his mouth seemed like it could bleed at any second now. You could tell he was doing his absolute best to keep himself composed. If this doesn’t prove how much you’ve been craving more intimacy, you don’t know what will.

You felt his hands back on your waistband, but this time he didn’t hold back. He made his way past the lining and you already felt his fingers near your pussy. Your hold on his neck tightened as his fingers slide through your folds, and you could hear the wetness of your womanhood. You were embarrassed by how evident your arousal was, but you could see his jaw clenching. The fact that he was able to make you wet for him, definitely turned him on. Without any warning, he stuck a finger into you and pumped in-and-out of you in slow motion. You bit your lip to prevent your screams from being heard, but he couldn’t help but take notice of what you were trying to do. He shoved a second digit into you; which caused your eyes to roll back.

“Let it out,” he directed.

Seeing as how you were still biting onto your lip, he inserted one more finger into you and quickened his pace to unravel the build in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t hold back anymore as the pleasure continued to build up at a rapid pace.

“T-Tae!” You managed to let out.

The satisfaction on his expression was apparent. He used his thumb to rub at your clit to stimulate your core further. You threw your head back and felt an overwhelming amount of pleasure hitting you. His fingers curled in you and it felt too good to resist. Your walls began to clench around his fingers; which indicated that you were close to cumming, but he wasn’t going to let the fun end there. He pulled his fingers out of you, leaving the feeling of dissatisfaction.

You then snapped out of your high when he lifted you up against the canvas. As the palms of his hands reached around your thighs to hold you steady, you pressed your lips together with anticipation. By Taehyung seemed to be taking his time now, scanning your entire body in front of him, you glanced down at how vulnerable you looked. Surely, his tip slipped into your entrance. You hissed in as his unbelievable length pushed inside of you, causing a fit of moans to be released from you and Taehyung. Just when you wanted to catch Taehyung’s eyes, you found the other pair already looking directly at you.

“Taehyung,” you breathed with pleasure.

Taking that as another one of his cues, he ended up thrusting with a pace. As he still held up your weight, he lifted you up and shoved you down onto his cock, to make sure you felt all of him. With each time you took all of his size inside of you, your head would fall back and your jaw slacking open with disbelief. You didn’t know how amazing it could feel. Although, never did you think that this would be something you’d find yourself in.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

“God you’re so big,” you moaned.

When those words came from you, he felt his confidence surge within him.

“I wanna cum on your cock so badly.”

He leaned into your neck and groaned. Your words are pushing him past his limit, but he wanted to enjoy this moment; except, you were making it difficult on him because of how naughty you were.

“Holy shit,” he managed to breathe out. “You’re driving me insane.”

He pulled out of you and you let out a small whine. You felt empty and you missed the feeling of his cock inside of you. To your surprise, he let you down gently, but he spun you around. With your front facing the canvas, he pressed his body against your back until you were fully laid on the surface. He didn’t wait for a sign that you were ready due to his lack of patience. He grabbed your hips and guided you towards his torso. His dick easily slid inside of you; which caused a rush of pleasure that filled throughout your body once more. On his first thrust, he immediately hit your g-spot, causing your knees to buckle. Both of you were reaching your high, but that didn’t stop Taehyung’s brutal pace.

“You’re so wet for me, Y/N,” Taehyung mentioned.

“O-Only for you,” you breathed as you took in his cock.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he groaned. “Every time you walked in, I just wanted to make you mine.”

If you weren’t getting your brains fucked right now, your heart would’ve been fluttering at his comment. Perhaps you could also be looking up at him with admiration, but the scenario you were in, put that idea on hold.

“Show me how much you want me,” you challenged.

When you spoke those words, the grip on your hips instantly tightened. Just by imagining it, you guessed what would happen at this very moment. One of his hands soon began to glide up your back, taking in the feel of your soft skin. While letting out a hot breath, he licked the corner of his lips. The look in his eyes was practically burning holes in the back of your exposed body.

You knew that he wouldn’t be too rough with you; until you felt a sharp tug on your hair. It was clearly unexpected on your part, but you weren’t complaining about it. The rush truly gave you that extra oomph to verbally express the pleasure you encountered. The walls overflowed with the sounds of your uneven breaths and deep moans. You then felt his soft lips brush against the shell of your ear; which gave you chills that ran down your spine. As soon as you felt his upper torso pressing against your back, you held your breath. His pace decreased in speed; which made you somewhat nervous.

“Don’t test me, baby,” he teased with a smirk. “I’ll have to show you next time.”

The nibble you felt on your ear then caused you to let out a mewl. You wanted to beg for more but couldn’t; due to the fact, he cut you off with his chilling tone.

“Let’s see what I can show you now,” he concluded.

“Please,” you whispered, not even taking a second to reply.

With your eyes closed shut, you wanted to take in every single second, needing to take in the unbelievable rush he gave you. It was like he could read your mind when his pace suddenly increased. As the pull on your hair remained, you arched your back to catch the slightest glimpse of him. He looked amazing with his bangs tousled in front of his forehead, sweat only starting to glisten on his chest and his eyes that caught your gaze again. The connection you felt didn’t fail to make itself obvious when you caught each other at the right time. When you locked both of your eyes, you offered him a genuine smile. As a result, Taehyung leaned forward; which lead his cock to sink further into you. Your mouth resembled the shape of an “o” with the inevitable feeling. Watching him inch his face closer, your stare exchanged between his lips and eyes with a sudden craving.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented just before he pressed his lips against yours.

Taehyung could switch between two moods. One second he could be an absolutely charming, but the moment his dominance outshined through his actions.

When you thought things couldn’t go any better than it already was, your eyes widened at the impeccable speed. His movements were unexpected when you felt his dick reach further than before; only at this time, he slowly pushed deeper without that initial quick pace. Your mind was running; yet, you could feel your legs falling weaker with his pattern. He’d start by quickening his thrust into you, but he would also slow down to shove himself as far as he could. Just by the various sounds of your breaths intertwining with each other’s, you moans were practically like a second language.

He took a hold of your leg and held it up as he pounded into you. He was able to fuck you deeper; which made you scream for him.

“I’m gonna-” you stuttered, trying your best to hold it in.

“I’m almost there, babe,” he informed, placing soft sweet kisses on your shoulder.

As his teeth grazed your body, you couldn’t bring yourself to let out a breath. If you let that happen, you knew you would be bringing yourself to release. Trying to gain all of your energy, all you needed was to wait for Taehyung. What didn’t help was when all of his breaths being cut short after every thrust into you. You could hear the exhaustion, from not only you but from the other who held you so close.

“I’m coming, Y/N,” he told breathlessly.

It was clear to you both that unwinding at the same time had significance. Once you felt Taehyung’s warm embrace wrapping around your waist, you let out a satisfied breath. He pulled out of you, and you were able to relax again after standing up for who knows how long.

“We need to wash off,” he chuckled.

“Please,” you agreed, sounding out a similar light-hearted laugh.

He leads you to the bathroom and helped you get cleaned up immediately. The hot steam really did wonders for both of your bodies; especially after coming undone together. Unfortunately, the time you spend together was short-lived. After you finished just before Taehyung could, you made a beeline for the set of clothes he prepared for you. Quickly changing into the spare items, you made your way over to the bed to rest. At this point, you were selfish. You didn’t bother waiting for him due to your exhaustion, so you pulled the blankets up to your neck, taking this perfect moment to relax all of your muscles once again. Just when he entered the bed area from the bathroom, he laid on the opposite side of you and wrapped his arms around you.

“Tired?” he wondered.

You could only nod, not being able to express your words properly. It was like he really did fuck the emotions out of you. He kissed the back of your head before you heard his even breaths. You felt at peace and you closed your eyes, resting against his bare chest. Little did you know that you were slowly falling into a mini nap.

Once you woke up, you didn’t feel him by your side; which made you panic a bit. You sat up quickly, only to see him sitting by one of his paintings. It appeared he was adding some finishing touches to his work. You wrapped the blanket around you for extra comfort before heading over to him.

“Whose that?” you asked curiously.

“Who else would it be?” he continued.

You squinted your eyes at the art piece, genuinely trying to give an answer.

“Is that…” you paused, double-checking. “Is that me?”

“In my eyes, you’re the art piece.”

With those seven words, you felt your heart melt at his words. No one has ever done this for you; not even your few past partners. Tears were forming in the corners of your eyes, not being able to control the unbelievable amount of emotions. You were overjoyed with his gift. You didn’t know whether you wanted to hug or kiss him, but you just knew you wanted to be with him in the long run.

“So does this make us official?” you asked as you took in every detail of the artwork.

“Only if you accept this painting,” he teased.

Hand-in-hand, you and Taehyung observed the other paintings that were up on display. There were various amounts of art pieces left for the entire public to see; ranging from sculptures to paintings and even a station to create your very own work. Although, you weren’t necessarily focused on any of those. When he initially invited you, the one conclusion you jumped to was him having a piece of his own. His face was unfazed, aiming to not give you any sort of hint whatsoever. Still, you remained curious as you both walked along the empty pathway. It wasn’t until the both of you neared the end that your eyes widened. The number of people you noted surrounding a certain area had your senses heighten. Intently following the crowd, you attempted to peer over the sea of people. In hopes to snatch just even a glance at it, your mouth fell ajar. While you stood there―meeting eyes with an excessive amount of paint smeared on the canvas―there was a great wave of doubt in the back of your mind. You thought it couldn’t be; however, the intense color of red only caused a bed of goosebumps to rise upon your skin. Without noticing how tight your grip was on Taehyung’s hand, you felt as if your feet sunk into the floor, not gaining any courage to go any further. Something you couldn’t notice after that was the confused expression swiped over the male’s face.

“You did not,” you hissed, eyes never removing from the frame.

He only flashed you a mischievous smile. As he took note of your reaction, he then took matters to plant a kiss on your lips.

“It’s more beautiful up close,” he told.

Before dragging you towards the art piece, he tilted his head in front of your vision to catch your attention. You didn’t have any other choice but to let your eyes of disbelief connect with his. Soon enough, it was like he had no time in the world as his hand took control of your jelly-like body. The public only continued to swarm the painting, filling the air with nothing but interest. Fortunately; yet, unfortunately, they were all kind enough to let the producer of the painting pass through. There before you, you saw the canvas that he indefinitely fucked you against. All it took was for one gulp to remember everything from that exact day; as if those fine moments were engraved in your memories forever. This painting was only the physical copy and proof of that.

There were certainly many aspects of art people could consider, but you honestly couldn’t stop glaring at Taehyung, nor could you stop the crimson shade from forming on your cheeks. You didn’t want to admit it though; that you appreciated how everyone took a keen liking in the painting. You were involved, that was for certain, but these people had no guess of truth behind it. Not even seconds later, you recalled hearing a stranger make a comment of their own.

“The energy from this art piece is rather…” the person trailed off, leaving everyone to anticipate. “Intimate.”

That’s when you knew you thought too soon.

Taehyung simply let out a laugh while you hid your face in your hands, sincerely wishing the earth would eat you up.

#bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts au #kim taehyung #bts #bts scenarios #bts smut oneshot #taehyung smut oneshot #bts smut #smut

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keeroo92 · 5 years ago

Text

Be My Nightmare Ch4

Focus

Welcome back, everyone!!! I am so, so sorry this took so dang long. I wanted this chapter to cover so much and yet it feels like nothing happens at all, a tough one to nail down. Anyway! Hope you enjoy!

Word count - 4,415

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

__________________

---Reader---

The rest of your weekend passed uneventfully. Once V was stable, he didn’t have any further issues and you were able to catch up on tedious housework. You kept rehashing his words in your mind, dissecting every possible meaning until you could barely see straight.

After so many years of boredom, it was a delight to have the murderous artist in your care. Staying engaged had always been a struggle for you, even as a child. Most situations and people simply didn’t hold your interest. It wasn’t always easy to hide, but you managed most of the time.

You knew from experience what it cost if you failed.

Don’t think about that. There’s no point.

You sighed and set down your bag, reaching over to power up the CPU on your desk. Time to get to work. It was Monday, so your first patient would be Kelly Williams.

A classic case of bipolar disorder, the poor woman had been stuck in a major depressive episode for three months. She was so predictable you probably could have written up your notes for the session before she even arrived, but you followed protocol and checked your email as you waited for Kevin to deliver her anyway.

You minimized the browser as she shuffled in, eyes downcast and limp hair hiding her frown. You pursed your lips as she settled on the couch with a morose sigh. Kevin gave you a nod and left, clicking the door closed behind him.

“Hello, Kelly. How are you feeling today?” you began.

I’d bet my next paycheck I know her answer.

Her sad grey eyes lifted to meet yours. “Hanging in there.”

Yep. This is going to be a long hour.

You covered all the same topics, reviewing her trauma and possible causes for her illness. Diligent notes filled your notepad, but the words didn’t stick in your mind. It might be worth shifting Kelly to another doctor, considering how little you cared about her treatment. Dr. Malphas wouldn’t be happy, but he’d understand. You only wanted to make sure she was receiving the care she needed, right?

A soft knock interrupted your musings as Kevin returned. You said your goodbyes and promised your patient some menial reward, nothing important but something that would be meaningful to her.

The moment the door closed, you released a deep sigh. Honestly, there were only two or three patients here that interested you. A man with detailed visions of the future that occasionally came true, a woman who spoke a language of her own creation, and your favorite murderous artist. The rest you could deal with in your sleep.

On that note, who’s next?

Jacob Miller. The infamous serial killer who targeted women that resembled his mother. How utterly mundane.

It didn’t surprise you to realize how little the well-known madman interested you. His spree of kills thrilled and horrified the state of Utah for months until he was caught, all from a scrap of fiber he’d missed when disposing of one of his victims.

But his profile was quite basic. A broken home, absentee father and disciplinarian mother. Run of the mill patterns of animal abuse and rejection from potential sexual partners, the same fuel that brought about the likes of numerous big names. There was nothing new or unique about him.

As Kevin brought Jacob in, you tried not to let your eyes glaze over in disinterest.

“Good morning, Jacob.”

“Hello, Dr. Waras. How was your weekend?” the twisted man replied.

You pursed your lips. His manners belied a twisted core. “Nothing special, but we’re here to talk about you.”

His lips twisted into a dark grin. The man was an arrogant prick, always happy to talk about himself. Sometimes you wondered how he managed to avoid death row, but it wasn’t your problem.

“What do you want to know, Doctor?”

About you? Nothing.

“Let’s talk about your childhood a bit more,” you said instead.

---V---

The ceiling truly was a monstrosity. He’d been staring at it for hours, trying to pinpoint exactly what about its beige visage disturbed him so much, and he thought he finally had it figured out.

It was the bumps.

Little dapplings of the plaster, random and unintentional. As if whomever built the room had no idea patients would spend almost all their waking hours staring at their work. A few sections resembled faces or vague outlines of familiar objects, but the majority was an expanse of rough mediocrity.

He wanted to splash blood across it in sweeping arcs of color, break the horrible monotony with crimson streaks of life.

At this point, he’d settle for sidewalk chalk.

Someone’s coming.

The artist tuned to the hallway and sure enough, the familiar scuffle of Kevin’s feet approached. It must be time for his meeting with you and he smirked. What perfect timing.

Remember the plan.

“Yes, I’m perfectly aware,” he replied to the insistent tone rattling in his skull.

He arranged his features in a neutral expression, feigning indifference as the heavy door creaked open. Kevin’s signature shuffle came closer and the strap at his left arm loosened.

“Time for therapy,” the orderly informed him.

He resisted the urge to strangle the bumbling idiot as his arm regained its freedom. “Wonderful.”

Moments later, the artist stood beside Kevin rubbing his wrists and cracking his neck. Someday he would tear the man apart for stealing his autonomy, but not today. Today, he needed to gain an ally.

“So… Kevin. How did you end up here?”

Watery brown eyes blinked at him in confusion. The artist’s fingers twitched.

Don’t do it…

He clenched his hands. Kevin’s day would come and what a delight it would be…

“I… uh… I transferred from the hospital a few years back.”

V hummed and held his hands forward for the damned cuffs. They clicked into place as he replied, “Fascinating. Do you enjoy the work?”

Broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s all right, I guess. Gets weird now and then.”

He followed Kevin into the hallway, white soles squeaking on the linoleum. Nine doors identical to his own dotted the walls, useful information for later. Clever emerald eyes paid special attention to where the guard’s hand went to buzz them through to the offices.

“You’ll have to tell me some of your more interesting stories sometime,” he replied with a convincing twist of his lips. Child’s play.

Kevin grunted and gestured forward, inviting V to lead the way. “We’ll see.”

The thick door to your office already stood open, welcoming him in like an honored guest. He smirked as you nodded at Kevin and dutifully cooperated as the man latched him to the wall. You looked lovely, as you always did. Pen tucked behind your ear, a hint of excitement in your eyes.

“Thanks, Kevin. See you in an hour,” you said, dismissing the man.

And then there were two…

Stay focused. You’ll need your wits for what’s to come.

You offered him a smile as the door clicked shut. He mirrored it with ease.

“So, V. How are you feeling after last week? I haven’t seen you since your episode.”

He hummed and leaned back, settling his weight onto the couch. It was impossible not to indulge his aching body in the soft cushions after the maddening position he’d been stuck in all day.

“Truthfully, I’m bored. One can only stare at the same patch of ceiling for so long before it grows tedious.”

You tapped your pen against pursed lips. How lovely you’d look in red…

Focus.

“I can definitely understand that. I may be able to help, if you’re interested,” you replied.

There was no hiding the curiosity in his eyes, nor did he bother trying. You were too smart for that. “Do tell.”

“I can give you an assessment, and if it goes well you might be cleared to be left unrestrained. All you have to do is answer a few questions and be honest.”

He smirked. How adorable. “I’m ready when you are.”

You picked up a clipboard and read the first question aloud. “You find a lost young boy one day, and he appears to have stolen property. Would you A, hug and reassure him; B, take the property by force and leave him there as punishment; C, pick his pocket and leave him to his fate; or D, lead him home and call the authorities?”

He almost laughed. The entire basis of the question was absurd; what action he took depended on what the stolen property was. Why bother taking the item if it wasn’t something that appealed to him? Not to mention the lack of a ‘keep walking’ option.

“A,” he said. You made a note and continued.

None of the following questions were any better, all based on faulty logic or lacking the detail needed to truly make a decision. He chose his answers based on what he imagined his mother would do, using her kindness and empathy as a model for normal behavior. With each response, you marked your sheet and nodded approvingly.

“Okay, last question. Your house is on fire. What do you save on your way out? A, your little brother; B, your prized collection of baseball cards; C, whatever clothing you can carry; or D, the family photo album? Assume that anything not chosen is destroyed.”

For heaven’s sakes, only an imbecile would fail this.

“A, of course.”

You made a final mark and your brows furrowed as you tallied his answers. He occupied himself with images of you with a blade to Kevin’s flabby throat, grinning as you slashed it open. Blood would stain every inch of your clothing; never would you look so beautiful.

“Interesting… According to this, you shouldn’t even be here, let alone in high secure,” you began. Suspicion bloomed in your gaze as you met his eyes. “You weren’t being truthful, were you?”

No shit, Sherlock!

He gritted his teeth to keep from shouting at Griffon, searching for the right words. How had he missed this, how could he be so foolish as to expect you to believe a good result?

Take it again. As many times as it takes.

He had to take it another three times before you surrendered with a deep sigh. Not once did his answers change.

“I’ll have to clear it with Dr. Malphas, but I can’t justify stopping you.”

He smirked. Victory was sweet, indeed. Even this tiny increase to his freedom would do wonders for his plans, not to mention he’d no longer need to bother Kevin for a bathroom trip to indulge himself. It didn’t matter that there was a camera in his room, watching his every move. He knew where it was, it would be easy enough to hide his activities from its view.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said. A tiny smile graced your lips at his gratitude. Progress.

“Just doing my job. Now, let’s get back on track. Do you remember anything from last week?”

He brought his legs onto the couch, drawing his knees to his chin as was his preference. “Fragments.”

Ink marked his answer on your notepad and he almost growled in jealousy. His fingers itched to create, to design and defile. It took all his will power to remain seated and keep his hands from reaching for the pen. The sketches last week had left him needy and craving more time to hone his craft, the pull growing stronger with every reminder.

“Would you care to elaborate?” you asked.

He didn’t bother to consider the ramifications as he opened his mouth. The need was too strong. “I’ll tell you about it if you give me a pen and paper.”

You idiot! Now you appear weak, willing to succumb to her will if she only throws you a treat. What are you, a dog?!

He flinched. Vergil had a point; he should have been more careful. Somehow, he needed to shift the scales back in his favor, or at least back to equality. To let this stand would be unacceptable. But how?

The rumble of an opening drawer stole his attention as you withdrew the same hunk of charcoal he used before. A clipboard with several sheets of fresh paper occupied your other hand and his eyes glittered in excitement as you handed them over. He licked his lips and quivered in anticipation, considering his options and refining several ideas.

“May I make a request?”

His gaze shot to yours. A request? So, you wanted to see more of his work. It fed his ego and he nearly purred at the image of you begging him to draw you, dripping in viscous blood after your first kill.

“I cannot stop you,” he said. It wouldn’t do to betray his thoughts, not yet. Caution was a worthy ally.

“Can you draw Griffon, or Vergil? I’m curious what they look like,” you replied.

Don’t you dare!

Speak for yourself, asshat! You do your thing, Van Gogh.

Lips twisting in amusement, he nodded and drew the first line. Griffon was always interesting to draw, though he still hadn’t managed to get his eyes right. Something about the triple-iris was irritatingly difficult to capture. Not to mention how much he hated feathers.

Still. An enjoyable challenge.

“So, tell me about last week.”

Now’s your chance. Do not waste it.

The artist hummed in acknowledgement, eyes locked on his work. He kept his hand elevated so as not to smudge the charcoal unintentionally, his fingers swiping across the pristine page to leave shadowy streaks behind. But how to utilize this opportunity? How best to regain his control of the situation?

Perhaps a quid pro quo?

He smirked and lifted his eyes. You were staring at him. “I seem to be having trouble remembering. Maybe you can jog my memory?”

You pursed your lips and narrowed your eyes. He didn’t bother trying to hide his Cheshire-like glee. He had you, how could you possibly refuse him?

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?”

He leaned back, casually adding another series of marks to his artwork as if your suspicion meant nothing to him, as if he didn’t care if you went along with his ideas. “I’m suggesting, Doctor, that you provide me with incentive to share.”

“Such as…?”

“For now? Blue.”

You stared at him as if he were an alien. “You want… blue?”

“I cannot do Griffon justice without the proper color,” he replied with a teasing smirk.

An easy trade, a small token to get you used to the idea. What harm could there be in allowing him more colors to use in your own office? It was a simple request, one not worth refusing and as you reached for your drawer, he congratulated himself for his cleverness.

“I don’t think I have any blue pens or anything, let’s see…”

“I’ll make do with whatever you have available,” he replied as you rummaged.

The drawer looked moderately chaotic, as if you put some effort into keeping it organized but you didn’t care enough to maintain it. Post its and paperclips were strewn about, pens and highlighters shoved in the corner. A thumb drive resided amongst a collection of pins.

A single flash of sapphire drew his gaze. Your delicious fingertips hesitated at the item, but you pulled it out a moment later as nothing else offered itself up. He almost laughed as you held it out to him.

This will be interesting to work with.

A makeup compact, full of blue powder. The color was dark and rich, serendipitously close to the exact shade of the demonic bird.

“This is all I’ve got,” you murmured.

The artist schooled his features into a look of disappointment, playing down his excitement as he accepted the small container. “It will suffice.”

He tested the substance on a fresh sheet of paper, swiping it across with the tip of his thumb. Discerning emerald eyes judged the depth of the hue, analyzing how much he’d need to achieve the proper coloration. If he layered it with the charcoal, it might just work.

You cleared your throat as he began, pen held at the ready for him to speak. That’s right, he was expected to describe last week in exchange. He’d nearly forgotten. Visions ricocheted in his mind, echoes of the night that became his ruin. He didn’t remember everything, but there was enough to recognize the memory. Enough to relive the delightful experience.

But it wouldn’t do to share every detail with you. He chose his words with care, selecting a few key details and adding meaningless drivel for good measure. The day may come when he recounted every moment, but you were nowhere near ready.

“I remember red, a great deal of it. Someone was screaming, but I don’t recall why. Yellow walls and a rhododendron.”

He paused to let you note his every word, swirling blue across the black outline of feathers. The sparkles were a bit much, but he couldn’t do anything to fix that. By the time the scratching of your pen ceased, he was almost finished.

“That sounds intense. Did it feel like a dream or more like a memory?”

He paused, wondering how far he could press you today. It was worth a try; even if you refused it would help him regain a position of strength.

“You wouldn’t happen to have any purple, would you?”

Your eyes sparkled. A slight twist of your pink lips was all the confirmation he needed that you knew what he was up to and you didn’t even glance at your desk before you responded.

“I’m afraid not.”

Despite the setback, he couldn’t help but smirk. There was something odd about you, and every time he interacted with you it became clearer. You got the same amusement from the mental battle as he did, the same thrill every time you scored a point. The same rush of fascination and curiosity.

You were more than just another sheep.

All he needed to do was draw out the wolf.

“That’s a shame, Y/N,” he purred. Your chair squeaked as you shifted.

A soft knock on the door signaled the end of your hour with him. He sighed and handed you the clipboard, his drawing of Griffon’s proud flight on full display. Your eyes widened, a slight inhale escaping your lips that would fuel his fantasies for days to come.

“So that’s Griffon?”

He nodded as the door opened and Kevin approached, handing you the makeup and charcoal. It pained him to surrender the supplies, but this way you didn’t have to ask. A subtle difference, but one that reinforced his autonomy instead of your control over his life.

But there was one last gesture he wanted to make.

The moment Kevin freed his hands, he extended one to you with a soft smirk. The orderly’s meaty fist wrapped around his wrist and he didn’t fight back, content to wait for your response.

Suspicion tinted your eyes, mixing with interest as he parted his lips.

“I wanted to thank you, Doctor. I look forward to sleeping unrestrained tonight.”

You shared a glance with the orderly and he let go. The urge to strangle the man for his interference was powerful, but he ignored it. In due time, the man would pay. For now, let him imagine he had won. Far more interesting was your reaction.

You looked startled, but not fearful. More intrigued than anything else.

Perfect.

The same hand he licked the first time he met you clasped his own, shaking it in a gesture of mutual respect. You didn’t need to know his true goal; to feel your skin and memorize its texture. The knowledge would add depth to his fantasies and he focused on the smooth warmth, hungry for every detail he could glean from such brief contact.

The hands of one who works indoors…

He brushed his index finger across your wrist as you pulled back, a more intimate touch not immediately apparent to the accursed third party watching his every move. The barest twitch of your fingers revealed your awareness of his boldness, but you didn’t say a word. Another victory, then.

“Until tomorrow,” he murmured.

---Reader---

The heavy door clicked shut and you released a deep breath. Your heart was pounding, mind consumed with the artist’s simple caress. Those same hands that were capable of such artistry had taken at least three lives; you couldn’t afford to forget how dangerous he was. The mind games, the trickery and bargaining, none of it mattered if you lost your focus.

What is my focus?

You leaned back and pursed your lips. In broad terms, your goal with other patients was to help them reach a point where their ability to function in normal society was no longer impaired. If they weren’t capable of that much, you were meant to guide them to stability so they could at least have appropriate quality of life.

To envision V in normal society was close to impossible. You couldn’t picture him in a suit, sitting at a cubicle like ordinary folks. Imagining him on a commute was anathema; with a family, unthinkable. The man was an outlier and no amount of treatment would change that.

So how can I help him?

You growled in frustration and rubbed your eyes. The flesh he touched still tingled, the nerves jangling with odd enthusiasm. It made no sense; the man was a murderer and here you sat like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Absurdity. You were smarter than this, better than this.

This isn’t a comic book or some crappy romance novel. Life doesn’t work that way. He was trying to manipulate me and I cannot let him win.

You glanced at the drawing of Griffon, marveling at the unearthly beauty of the creature’s forked beak and massive legs. A demonic bird, the hallucination of a crazed murderer, and you found it beautiful. What an incredible mind he had, to come up with such a thing.

How sad to imagine all the things he could have done with that mind, instead of slaughter. He could have written the next Lord of the Rings, painted the next Sistine Chapel. Manifested something profound instead of destroying the lives of a young family.

Maybe he still can. If I can help him, who knows what he’ll create?

A subdued knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. Was it already noon? Time flew right by you, more proof of the ridiculousness surrounding you. With a final sigh you grabbed your purse and locked your computer, heading to join Kotomi for lunch.

“Hey Y/N! How was your weekend?” she asked as you entered the hallway.

Charlie buzzed you through the security door; Ben must have called out sick. “Pretty boring, to be honest. How about you?”

Her eyes sparkled as she described a trip to the museum with her mother, skimming over any interesting parts like she always did. The elder Ishida was legendary in her hatred of psychiatry, and every time she and Kotomi got together she had a new story of her mother’s lectures. You grinned as you reached for the button to call the elevator, all too aware of her heels.

“So, did she disown you for working here yet?”

“Y/N! Not so loud! Wait, what’s that on your wrist?”

You hadn’t noticed before, but a streak of charcoal marked where the artist touched you. It was just dark enough to draw attention and you rubbed it against your pants, grateful you wore black today. A pale grey outline remained no matter how hard you tried and you huffed in annoyance.

“It’s charcoal,” you replied, rolling your eyes.

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “The artist?”

You nodded and stepped forward as the elevator arrived. Her heels clicked to join you as she crossed her arms and gave you an intense stare.

“You let him touch you? Have you lost your mind?!”

Did he do it on purpose? Was this why he wanted to shake my hand?

Lithe fingers grasped your shoulders as almond shaped eyes met yours. Her concern was sweet and you wished you had the right words to reassure her.

“Y/N, I’m worried about you. I know how you get with these people; you need to be extra careful with him. I’ve heard rumors, he sounds really dangerous,” she insisted.

You managed a small smile as a ding announced the elevator passing the second floor. There was no change in its motion and you licked your lips, searching for the right words. Of course he was dangerous; you weren’t an idiot, you knew that. And yes, maybe you shouldn’t have let him touch you, but Kevin was right there and you couldn’t let him have control by refusing.

“Look. I know, okay? I know what he’s capable of. I read the police report. But I have to take a few risks to help him, he’s too smart for the standard approach. It’s my job to work with the dangerous ones. I know what I’m doing.”

Her eyes softened and she dropped her arms, though she still looked troubled. The second ding marked your arrival at ground level and you stepped off in silence, wondering what else you could say to ease her concern.

“Do you want me to sit in on your sessions? Maybe I can help somehow,” Kotomi offered.

How did she do that? How did she make herself seem so genuine? Was she actually that genuine or was it all an act? It was impossible to say for sure, but you had no reason to doubt her sincerity. Her offer meant all the more considering her aversion to violent offenders, her fear of being around the most twisted minds.

You smiled at Lenny as he buzzed the two of you into the administrative wing. The echoes of Kotomi’s steps rattled through the air as you neared the staff lounge.

“That’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll be alright. I promise to be careful,” you said.

The remaining charcoal on your wrist drew your eyes as you opened the door. You couldn’t deny the rush his touch gave you, despite the alarm bells that rang in your head. Maybe Kotomi had a point, maybe you were being reckless. No other patient had ever touched you so intimately, with or without permission. Was this response normal?

Did it matter?

~~~Next Chapter~~~

#fanfic #v x reader #Be My Nightmare #my writing #reader insert #devil may cry #mind games #dmcv #dmc

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blog-sliverofjade · 5 years ago

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Omega Protocol 27: Interrogation

Summary: In the mid-21st century, the elite decided to cement society’s strata into our DNA, creating a genetic caste system. One of the early Omegas is cryogenically frozen and forgotten. Revived nearly two centuries later, she has no idea what she has become and has to navigate a strange new world while surrounded by Alphas, whatever those are.

Leading the military arm of his people in exile on a dangerous planet is no easy feat for Captain Niklaus Reed. He has to build and secure a settlement against megafauna straight out of the Ice Age before families start arriving on the distant planet. When an Omega is found in an old research base, things become… complicated.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26

Word Count: 1592

Much love to my awesome beta @pandabearer

“Talk to me.” Emma looked up from where she was idly tracing invisible designs on the ridges of his abdomen. It was the first time the Alpha had solicited her thoughts on anything.

“About what?”

“What happened last night.” Pulling away from him, she curled in on herself. Or rather, she tried to. Niklaus let her withdraw slightly, but his half-embrace held firm when she would have turned away. “Nice try.”

“How did you know…?” That I tried to literally curl up and die? He merely looked at her. Right, the thing between them that she’d been studiously trying to ignore. “I thought that they’d threatened to string you up by your thumbs if you didn’t leave me alone?”

“I think it involved honey, rope, and those giant fire ants. Or was it the death wasps?” She giggled at the mental picture, which was no doubt his intent. “I couldn’t just sit there with my thumb up my ass while you destroyed yourself,” he admitted once the laughter subsided. “You’re not talking to anyone. I figure I’m already on your shit list, might as well make you talk.”

“You’re going to interrogate me? Kinky.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response.

She lay there stiffly. Bracing his free hand behind his head, he tilted his face, eyes half-lidded, a little more towards the faint light filtering in. One could have been fooled into thinking he was dozing if they couldn’t see him rubbing small circles against her back.

When she finally did speak, her voice was raspy due to a dry mouth and being quiet for so long, not because of any lump in her throat. “I didn’t fight.” The words were barely even a breath. He waited until it was apparent she wasn’t going to continue.

“What did you do?” Turning to shelter her with his body, he petted her hair. This was a softer man than the one she’d first met, yet neither was he treating her with kid gloves like nearly everyone else was.

“I threw Fluffybutt at his face and ran.” Nik chuckled and she joined him, although hers was partly a choked sob.

“I knew something was wrong when your damn chicken came back squawking her head off. For that alone, she’s earned a stay of execution.” For all that she’d threatened to fry the bird at the time, Emma had to agree.

“I should’ve fought back,” she murmured to the scar on his chest that had suddenly become fascinating.

“With what? A chicken and harsh words?”

“There were sticks.” She wasn’t being defensive, she was pointing out facts.

“He was twice your size and had a spear,” he said in the same flat manner he did when dressing down one of his people for doing something mildly stupid. It had very rarely been directed at her. “You did the smart thing. Chances are he’d have killed you where you stood for challenging him. Running was your best choice. He was still faster, but you didn’t just stand there, did you?”

“No.” God, she’d rather go through chemo again than have this conversation.

“And the head wound didn’t help, did it?” Worrying at her bottom lip, she shook her head. “What else do you think you could’ve done?”

“Don’t patronize me!” Her ire lent her the fortitude to meet his gaze.

“I’m not.” A low, hard statement. “I’m trying to break you out of this spin you’re in.” When she would have ducked her head again to hide her vulnerability, he gripped her chin and stared into her eyes. “You’re too focused on what you think you should have done when the truth is you chose the course that ensured the greatest chance of survival.” The steely commander was back, yet there was nothing cool or distant about him now; the fiery intensity that lay just beneath the surface wouldn’t permit that.

“I’m tired of feeling weak.” She shook her head and her hair fell across her eyes, reminding her that she always suffered from the most horrendous bedhead. Sitting up, she worked her fingers through her hair in an attempt to get it looking less like a camel had chewed on it in her sleep. How does it manage to be both greasy and frizzy? “I’m tired of not having control over anything that happens to me. They took me from my home- my planet!- and changed me without my knowledge. then to freeze and forget about me. I’m still not sure how to feel about… my heat.” She had hated feeling that helpless and out of control. “Then that happened, and you did this!” A hand waved at the scar on her neck. “I don’t even remember the last time I could make a major decision for myself.” Her voice broke and trailed off. “I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

Reed felt like someone had cut him off at the knees and allowed a herd of moofalo to run over his body. His mate didn’t trust him, and he’d given her precious little reason to. She had scooted away from him to sit with her back against the wall. Already he missed the warm weight of her against him, leaving him cold, which was a rare sensation for him.

“From what I understand this is permanent.” There was no divorce for their kind. “What are my choices? Do I get any or are you going to keep dictating to me?” The hunch of her shoulders was a knife to his gut. “Makes me wonder what the point of living is if this could even be called a life.” He had taken bullets that hurt less than her speech.

“Don’t you dare give up now. You’ve survived too much for that.” It came out roughly, bordering on a growl, but she didn’t flinch. “Besides, you still have a chance to make me regret claiming you.”

“Spite as motivation to live?” A wry twist to her mouth.

“If it works.”

“You’re saying you don’t already regret this?”

“Not yet,” he smirked.

“Oh, you are going to regret saying that.” A small smile bloomed but faded before reaching its fullness. “What were those things?”

Blowing out a breath, he sat up to sit against the other wall, perpendicular to her.

“Not all of the original test subjects were as successful as you. The original batch of Alphas and Betas were feral, attacked the research team, and escaped.” They had also committed unspeakable acts in the process, but she didn’t need to know that when she had already had a glimpse of it. “Those are their descendants. We call them ferals or nomads because they cycle through different outposts depending on the season. Rooster started calling them nad’s, short for Nasty Ass Dickriders.” The term wasn’t one he’d normally use in front of an Omega, but the crude phrasing startled a chuckle out of her like he’d suspected it would.

“They’re like cavemen, like they devolved?”

“The going theory is that when they were tinkering with the genetic code, they went a little too far back in our evolutionary timeline. The next team thought to get around the intelligence issue by splicing in animal DNA to get the strength and stamina they were looking for,” he explained.

“Wait, you’re saying they killed the first team and then sent another?” Her eyebrows climbed towards her hairline.

“It was merely a ‘setback.’” His lip still curled at the memory of the classified reports he had been privy to as part of his training. While those back on Earth might not want their kind around, they still wanted to experiment with a colony on an exoplanet, just not with “proper humans.” That meant certain information had to be shared or else risk inevitable failure. “The second succeeded, despite another concerted attack from the ferals. They decided it was safe to return because at that point they could argue that we counted as an extra-terrestrial species and thus exempt from the ban on tinkering with human genetics.”

“That’s a twisted sort of logic that sadly makes sense.”

“No one told you?” They had agreed to keep the nads’ existence from her to avoid adding to her stress load, no one suspecting that she would wander beyond the protected core, but he’d assumed that someone would have told her after the incident. Part of him was glad that she had come to him, hoped that she trusted him enough to tell the truth.

“I think Barbie tried, but I really didn’t feel like talking.” She smoothed a pillow and fussed with its placement. “Where do we go from here, Nik?”

He knew what he wanted to do, which was keep her close where he could protect her. What he said was, “What do you want?”

Emma was silent for so long he wasn’t certain she would answer.

“I want to learn to defend myself.”

“We can start this afternoon.” The response didn’t even require thought, it was automatic. Like any Alpha, he wanted to be the one to protect his Omega, but he wasn’t arrogant enough to think that she would stay within a protected bubble anymore. “First, we get some food into you.”

She opened her mouth, most likely to argue, but the rumbling of her stomach interrupted. “Um, would you mind stepping out so I can get dressed?” Instead of pointing out that he’d already seen her in her birthday suit, he slipped out into the hallway and tried not to think of her wearing nothing but his mark.

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iamkatehardy · 6 years ago

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Out of Reach (James Delaney x Reader)

Hoping this time it works! I’m sorry for the mess, and I’m sorry I didn’t put the Keep Reading button, but I’m trying all the possibilities now!

Requested by : @outofbluecomesgreen The idea is hers, and absolutely amazing, so thank you babe ❤

A/N: This story will explore the development of the relationship of James and (Y/N). It starts in their early life, when everything seemed simple, before James sails to Africa.

The FF will be divided in 3 or 4 chapters, and each one of them will probably depict a different stage of their relationship. This one is about how they met. Hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think!

Warnings: Brandy is involved, just that 😁

Chapter 1

1802

London, a place where boundless wealth was the neighbor of the most hideous misery; where the luxury, wasting and extravagance of some coexisted with the famine, premature death, and vicious despair of others.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, you were born into a noble lineage, in the bosom of one of the richest and most influential families of the entire kingdom. Generally, someone from outside your reality would see you as lucky; another insufferable little lady that could have anything she wanted, and possessed all sorts of titles, including the most wanted bachelorette in town. Gentlemen from all over the Kingdom tried to ask your hand, but you always made their life a hell, in various ways.

You just couldn’t abide all the rules, etiquette and protocols of the court, and that often gave your parents a headache. If you weren’t a daddy’s girl, you would probably be disowned; but you and your father shared plenty of things, including an immeasurable passion for the sea. Something about the immense blue ocean fascinated you, thrilling you and soothing you at the same time.

Another French lesson, something you could never stand, awaited you; and when you saw your father getting ready to go out, you assumed it could be the perfect opportunity to skip the class. Having business with East India Company, he spent a considerable share of his days in the docks.

“Father?”

“Yes, my precious?” – He turned around to face you, while dressing his overcoat.

“I was wondering…” – You stepped closer, giving him a sweet look you inherited from your mother.

A little chuckle escaped his lips; he knew that look: you were about to ask him something and he wouldn’t be able to refuse.

“You know how much I hate Margaux and those classes…”

“Darling, your mother insisted…” - He put his hand on his forehead, sighing.

“I know, Da. But if you’d take me with you, she wouldn’t oppose to your will… Plus, I haven’t been in the docks in a while; I would love to go with you. Please?” – Both your voice and eyes were so pleading that for a while he forgot about the troublemaker within you.

“What did you ever ask me that I didn’t happily give you?” – He caressed your cheek. – “But get your coat, it’s cold out there!”

It was a chilly winter day. The wind was blowing from the water towards the land; as you took a deep breath in, a familiar scent filled your nose, calling memories of your childhood.

Sailors caused less problems if they were kept busy, so they were swamped in tasks in the ships, minding their own business, at least until they laid their eyes on you; your arrival caused a stir among them, turning heads.

James was one of the most troublesome sailors, meaning he was doomed to scrub the wooden decks, despite his expertise in other areas. The constant murmurs of his mates made him a little curious, so he got up with the excuse to get more holystone, and he finally caught a glimpse of you. You looked fierce and proud, but so damn beautiful he couldn’t stop looking at you, at least until the captain smacked his neck hard enough to bring him back to reality; the back of his neck stung, and he rubbed it to ease the pain. The captain’s yelling echoed in the whole dock, you couldn’t help but overhear it, and you turned to see what was going on. Being a troublemaker, you could relate to the situation, so it made you smile. After being lectured, he lifted his head again, and his eyes met yours; it was hard to meet his eyes for long though, they were like the ocean, so deep yet so tender, so full of life, so mesmerizing… Those were the eyes you’d never forget, the same eyes that would never forget you.

Your father was there for business, meaning he had little to no time to keep you company, and you got bored too easily to simply follow him and his friends while they discussed their affairs.

“Father? Do you think we could take a quick look at that ship?” - You walked by his side, clasping your hands behind your back.

“My love, I wish I had the time, but right now it’s impossible.”

“Then maybe someone could. “ – You stopped, pointing in the direction of the ship were James was, and giving your father a warm smile.

“I’ll arrange it for you. Just don’t get in trouble ok?”

“I won’t.” – You solemnly promised, although you knew that was a hard promise to keep.

You and your father approached the ship.

“Sailor?” – Your father called, and James turned around.

“Yes, Sir.” – James’s answer was dry; he knew that getting attention from people like you and your father often meant bad news for people like him.

“My daughter would like to have a look at the ship, could you please join her and show her around?”

“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t think this ship is the place for such an exquisite lady.”- He gave you a courtly nod, but his remark outraged you.

“I insist…” – You narrowed your eyes, and he couldn’t help but think you were a spoilt little lady used to get what she wanted at whatever cost.

“Listen, boy, this is my ship, meaning it’s her ship. So if she wants to take a look, she will be taking a look, and you’ll be escorting her. Are we clear?” – The finger of your father was mere inches away from James’s face, and you smirked, victorious.

“Yes, Sir.” – James nodded. – “Ma’am.” – He offered you his hand, to help you come on board.

“Thank you.” – You took his hand. It was rough and calloused, with a firm grip, unlike all the nobles you had met before, but t seemed to perfectly fit yours.

You father left, and you wandered around the deck, amazed with every little thing. James observed you attentively; you didn’t look so stuck-up after all. Your fingers traced every detail engraved in the shiny hardwood.

“That’s…”

“I know what that is, sailor…”- After interrupting him, you came a little closer. – “I’m familiar with ships.”

He clenched his fists and teeth, calling him a sailor made you look pretty stuck-up once again.

“Oh, come on, why do you look so angry? It was you who didn’t introduce yourself! I’m sticking with sailor, until Your Grace choses to unveil his identity to me.”

He resisted his urge to chuckle.

“James. James Delaney, ma’am”

“Delaney, huh? Sounds familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it… Anyway, James, I’m (Y/N), and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” – You extended your hand, and before he could bow to kiss it, you shook his hand firmly, surprising him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, ma’am.” – His lips broke into coy smile

“No,no, no, please, let’s dispense with the formalities shall we, James? At least when my father is not around…He takes those things seriously, I don’t really care.” - You shrugged, and fluttered your long eyelashes.

Many hours have passed, but none of you noticed it until the Sun was about to set. You were both hesitant at first, but James made you feel weirdly comfortable; you both enjoyed each other’s company, and how the talk effortlessly flowed between you, almost as naturally as the silence between two strangers would. You had known each other such a short time, and yet, it felt like you knew each other forever. You found out you had more in common than any of you had foreseen, but there was a lot more to discover.

“You’re not so bad, after all…”

“Oh, no, I’m just as fucked up as they say! Well, I must go now, or my father will really impatient. He doesn’t quite endure delays. But I’m coming back. One day…” – You gave him another charming smile.

“I’ll be waiting.” – He kissed your hand. The golden sunlight seemed to enhance the way your eyes shone; they were sweet and captivating, making it really hard for James to say goodbye just yet.

And he did, every single day he wondered when would you be the next person to show up in the docks; he would follow your father with his watchful eyes, waiting for the day he’d bring you with him again. He secretly longed for one more talk with you, for your company.

Once your father grew suspicious of your interest in the docks, you were forbidden to accompany him there, or to go on your own. Restrictions never worked with you, imposing rules only made you want to break them, this one wouldn’t be exception.

When the night fell, after stealing your mother’s darkest cloak, and your father’s most expensive brandy, you sneaked out through the window and headed to the docks, knowing you’d probably find James, since he was supposed to be guarding a ship ,that was supposed to set sail in a few days. The night breeze was chilly, and you involuntarily shiver, maybe a nice swig of brandy would help; it smelled and tasted kind of fruity, making the experience less bad than you expected it to be. A few swigs and steps after, you finally reached your destination.

“James?” - You called, probably louder than you than you meant to.

He was tired, almost falling asleep, but he could swear he heard his name being called in the distance, so he immediately got alert. After pulling back his blanket, he swung his legs off the bed, and groggily rubbed his eyes.

The tipsy version of you thought it would be a good idea to keep calling.

“James Delaney! I summon you!” –Inspecting the ships, trying to remember in which he was staying, you whispered once again.

James came out of the compartment, wondering who could be calling him so late at night; he came across you, and it left him completely bewildered.

“There you are!” - You ran towards him, shaking the bottle in your hand.

“What are you doing here?!”

“I told you I’d come!” – Giving him the most fetching smile, you delivered him the bottle.

“Have you been drinking?” – He inspected the bottle and then you.

“Hmm hmm…” – Shaking your head in denial, you rolled your eyes.

“Of course not.” – He chuckled, after a low grunt; he perfectly knew you had. – “Does your father know you’re here, by any chance?”

“Why would he? He doesn’t own me, nobody does!” - You defiantly crossed your arms over your chest.

“I bet he thinks differently, and this visit will put me in a lot of trouble.” – Taking a deep breath, he slowly tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you bit your lower lip.

“Don’t sweat it and spare me the speeches, I bet Delaney means trouble in some kind of dialect…” – Looking down, you kicked off your shoes.

“I wish I could tell you that you’re wrong, but you’re probably right…” – He opened the bottle and gulped down some brandy.

“Plus, it’s not usual for someone as insubordinate as yourself to fear any kid of trouble… But if you want me to go, I go!”

“No…” – He took another sip from the bottle, both brandy and your presence made him feel a lot warmer inside; something he hadn’t feel in a long time.

By the time he finished gulping the brandy, you had climbed on the edge of the ship, and tiptoed on the narrow bar; he almost spat his drink on the floor.

“(Y/N)?” – He called softly, to avoid startling you and causing you to fall overboard.

“Yes?” – You spun on your feet as swiftly as possible, turning to him.

“Can you come down here, please?” – He extended his hand to you, trying to convince you to come back to the deck.

“No, I can’t!.” – Giggling, you reached for the back of your head, and undid your hair. Shaking your head lightly, your hair fell over your shoulders, just before the wind blew through it, and made it cover your face. – “James…If I fall, will you pick me up?” – You opened your arms, closing your eyes and savoring the sensations, the freedom, with a smile on your face.

“No, the water is freezing; I wouldn’t pick the fucking King, if he fell!” – He laughed.

You opened your eyes just to glare at him, with indignation.

“Well, we shall see about that…” – You closed your eyes again and smirked, laying your head back.

He took another sip of brandy and silently approached, catching you off guard, picking you up and throwing you roughly over his shoulder, as he stepped away from the edge of ship.

“Are you out of your mind?!” – He sat down, leaning again the mast, getting his breath back. You tried to release his strong grip, but he wouldn’t let go. Managing to trap you, he made you sit between his legs, as he held you tight into his chest, so you wouldn’t get away and cause any more trouble. – “I would certainly pick you up, ma’am, but please don’t fucking jump. You crazy little thing!”

“I wasn’t going to jump!” – You laughed out loud. – “I’m not that crazy… Ok, maybe I am! But I was just curious about your reaction.” – You cheekily remarked, and stopped resisting his grip, leaning your head against his shoulder instead. Once again you stole the bottle from his hand.

“You’ve probably had enough brandy , miss…” –

“Oh, really, says who?” - You turned your head to face him.

His piercing gaze lifted from the bottle to your face, and the hair rose in the back of your neck. You wanted to believe it only happened because of the cold, but perhaps the real culprit was James’s warmth.

“Me…” – Whispering, he pinched your nose playfully, before stealing the bottle and gulping the remainder of the brandy on it.

“Hey!” – You slapped his leg, with a surprised look on your face, before bursting into laughter once again. “Since we’re on a ship… I love sailor songs… Do you know any?”

“No.” – His face was guilty, you knew he did, so you insisted.

Alcohol started working quickly once it entered your bodies, and in a matter of minutes the shyness and resistance were gone. James ended up singing a few sailor songs, and he even accepted your challenge to dance; he couldn’t dance like you did, he seemed to have two left feet and stomped on you every five seconds. For your own safety, you decided to simply link your arm on his, lifting your dress with the other hand, spinning around and singing, like you both thought drunken pirates would do. After some time, you both were so dizzy you fell to the floor, rolling on the deck and laughing.

You laid with your arms spread, getting your breath back; James was fun, he made you feel like you hadn’t in ages. Around him everything was carefree, adventurous and natural.

Being a troublemaker, James was very vigilant, even when he was drunk. Something got his attention, and he got up, looking around.

“Come back here…” – You giggled, opening your arms for him, making him sign to lay back in the neck and relax.

“Shhhhhh…”

“Don’t hush me!” – You sat down, giving him a threatening look

“Shhh!” – James saw a light in the distance, and he could hear voices of officers calling your name. – “Oh fuck, this is all I needed…” – He rubbed his forehead.

“What?” – You raised your voice.

“Shut up! Come! They already have more than enough reasons to expel me, if they find the daughter of the owner here, I won’t only be expelled, I’ll probably hang too.” – He extended your hand to you.

“We’ll hang together then!” – You shrugged, and James sighed in annoyance, grabbing your arm and getting you up.

“Put these on! Quickly, please.” - He grabbed your shoes on the other hand, handing them to you.

“I won’t, they are awfully uncomfortable, James.” – You tipsy tantrums were funny to James; he wished he could laugh, but not when you were about to get caught.

“Ok, fine…”- James took a deep breath and to clear any evidence of your presence on the ship he decided to throw the shoes, which probably costed more than his salary, overboard.

You looked at the shoes sinking, then at James’s face, and you couldn’t help it but laughing uncontrollably.

“Shhhhh!” – He made you sign to hush, but the more he hushed you, the more you wanted to laugh.

Your father was worried sick, and sent officers to search the whole town, including the docks. The officers approached, following the dim lights on every ship. James grabbed your hand and ran with you to his room, before they could get a glimpse of your both. You should be worried, but the adrenaline had the opposite effect in you, you felt more alive than ever and laughed happily.

“They’ll search here as well, they’ll search everywhere…”

“Never had hide and seek been so interesting…And your face, lovely!”

“Can you take this seriously for a second?!” – James whispered.

“Hmm hmmm…” – You shook your head, laughing. Your eyes barely open, from how tipsy you were, but it also showed how true your smile was. – “James, I’ve been in trouble for most of my life, but I swear, I haven’t had this much fun since I was twelve…” – You hug him tight, laughing against his chest.

He heard the steps of the officers in the deck, and his instinct was to hide with you under the bed. There was little room, so he laid on his cold floor and you laid over him.

“What are you doing?!” – You whispered.

James was sick of trying to hush you; you just wouldn’t comply, so he put his hand over your mouth gently. You tried to speak, but his moth stopped you, so you bit him lightly, making him take his hand back , and laughed.

“What’s so fucking amusing in getting us killed, huh (Y/N)?!” – He put his hand on your mouth again, but it wasn’t enough to muffle your laughs anymore. – “I’m probably going to regret this, but here goes nothing.”

He moved his hand to the back of your head instead, bringing you closer. As the officers stormed into the room, before you could say anything, or laughed, he firmly pulled your body against his, brushing his lips on yours. You tried to fight it as first, but you just closed your eyes and let yourself savor the moment. Lacing his fingers in your smooth hair, he lightly slid your tongue across your lower lip, causing you to gasp lowly; your lips parted and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside your mouth. You teased him, nibbling his lip, and he sighed into your mouth; you both surrendered to the delicious feeling.

The officers searched everywhere, including the small wardrobe, but luckily for you, not under the bed; they soon left, ready to search in another ship. You and James broke the kiss, and you just looked into his eyes for some seconds.

“I’m sorry…You wouldn’t stop laughing, I…” – He whispered, but he was lying through his teeth, he wasn’t sorry at all. You put a finger over his lips, hushing him.

“James Delaney, you’re quite a character! You just can’t apologize when you should, but you apologize when you shouldn’t…” – You planted a lingering peck on his soft lips, before you both came out of your hideout.

#james delaney #james delaney x reader #james delaney x oc #james delaney x you #james delaney ship #james delaney tom hardy #tom hardy characters #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfiction #james delaney fanfic #james delaney one shot #james delaney imagine #james delaney au

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raendown · 5 years ago

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Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2375 Chapter: 2/7 Summary: An accident at work leaves Tobirama blinded while his eyes are bandaged to heal from some rather nasty burns. Too busy with his own job to play the role of caretaker, wife too pregnant to place the burden on her, Hashirama calls upon his best friend Madara to stay with them and help Tobirama out in anyway he can. Madara isn't exactly thrilled to play babysitter but he can see an opportunity when one comes along; this may be the chance he's always waited for.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Focal Point

It took a lot of patience to ignore the way Hashirama practically danced back and forth across the living room the entire time he was waiting for Madara to pack up his things. A couple of times he tried to give the idiot something to do to keep him busy and stop the pacing but each time he would get distracted half way through and text Mito to ask whether she had heard any terrible or worrisome noises coming from Tobirama’s room yet. The answer was always no and yet he refused to calm down.

Eventually Madara figured if there was anything else he needed he could always pop home and grab it even if he did have to take a cab. It wasn’t as though he were going to another planet for a couple of weeks, just halfway across the city. Hashirama leapt an alarming number of feet in to the air upon being told they could finally go and lunged for the door without even offering to help him carry his bags. Rather unusual from such a genuinely helpful person but Madara grudgingly admitted that it was sort of understandable right now. Sort of. It was still annoying and he would definitely make sure to mention it later.

After struggling down the hall to the only working elevator in his building and waddling across the underground with several bags dangling from his arms, clothes and toiletries and everything he needed to set up his work station, Madara was in no mood to chat once he finally collapsed in the car again. He spent the ride back across town with his head turned away, huffily watching the city go by while Hashirama blathered on about all the foods Tobirama wouldn’t want to eat. As if he cared about that. The ungrateful little shit would eat whatever Madara wanted to cook for him and he had better have a ’thank you’ ready. Just because he’d been sitting on some sort of unwanted feelings for the man for much too long now didn’t mean Madara had to be nice or anything, that wasn’t his job. At no point in his life did he remember signing anything that said he had to be nice.

They got back to Hashirama’s house in fairly good time and the first thing his friend did when they walked in was abandon Madara with his bags again to hurl himself up the stairs so he could make sure Tobirama had survived the single hour he’d spent unsupervised. Madara rolled his eyes and muttered evil things to himself as he struggled up the stairs as well, heading for what they always called a guest room despite it being specifically reserved for Madara should he ever wish to stay the night. He even had a picture of Izuna hung up on one of the walls, grinning stupidly and posing with some stupid random statue they had found in an airport just before his flight boarded.

As soon as Madara stepped back out in to the hallway with his well-worn laptop between both hands he could hear a very familiar voice growling in a tone he knew all too well; Hashirama must have just done something stupid. What else was new?

“I am fine, Anija! No! No, just go away, for the love of god! Wha- because I was sleeping! I don’t need anything if I’m sleeping so fuck off!”

“You don’t have to yell, I was just concerned!”

“No, you were being overbearing. As usual. I know I’m not one hundred percent right now but I’m hardly going to injure myself in my sleep when I’m not even moving!”

Madara snickered openly at the offended rage in the man’s voice. As much as he wanted to agree, he wouldn’t put it past anyone bearing the name ‘Senju’ to hurt themselves in their sleep. Genius status notwithstanding, Tobirama could be just as distractible as his brother and with just as disastrous results, case in point being the time he hadn’t wanted to put his book down on the walk to work and accidentally cast himself off a twenty foot bridge in to the river below. When the voices inside the bedroom quieted to a murmur Madara assumed things to be calming down and turned for the stairs, intending to scout out the living room for the perfect place to set up his work computer and all the associated paraphernalia.

“YOU WHAT!?”

The sudden yell almost made him toss his precious laptop over the railing. Madara scrambled to catch it as the door now just behind him slammed open and Tobirama’s figure filled the doorway.

He probably would have looked much more imposing if his eyes weren’t covered in thick bandaging that ran all the way around his head or if his hair hadn’t been sticking out wildly at all angles. Still an unfairly good look on him. Despite obviously knowing that he wouldn’t see anything he still swung his face from side to side like he was looking around until Hashirama very carefully inched around him and put both hands on his shoulders in a calming manner.

“Now, now! There’s no need to be so upset. He’s here to help!”

“You called Madara here to babysit me!?” The red on his cheeks would have looked quite fetching if the rest of his features weren’t twisted with clear distaste. Madara huddled his laptop a little closer with a scowl. He wasn’t that bad to have around!

“I didn’t say babysit,” Hashirama tried to placate his brother.

“Why can’t Mito help me around?”

Just opening his mouth to defend himself, Madara shut it again and wrinkled his nose. He loved a good argument as much as the next man but he was also well aware that fighting with Tobirama when the sour puss got up to high dudgeon like this usually ended up with him looking like a fool. For once in his life he could afford to be the bigger man here and just bow out to let the two brother argue. Just once though! And these idiots better appreciate his efforts because it was taking a lot of strength right now not to reach over and tug on a chunk of that soft, white, defenseless hair. The only thing stopping him was the knowledge that Tobirama probably didn’t even realize he was standing there and startling him probably wasn’t healthy right now.

“Mito is thirty-four weeks pregnant! She can’t be running up and down the stairs all the time and the stress of being responsible for you just wouldn’t be good for the baby right now, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make it sound like you’re a burden–”

“I’m blind but I don’t know how to be blind. Right now I am a burden.” Tobirama sighed and Madara remembered Hashirama saying that this had all been caused by an accident in his lab. Hopefully this situation would finally impress upon him the importance of actually following the safety protocols he was supposed to use in his job, no matter that he was ‘just close enough to a break through to fuck science up’.

“Well Madara doesn’t think you’re a burden, do you Madara?”

Hashirama offered him a friendly smile but it was the way Tobirama’s head once again began whipping from side to side that had Madara holding in a snort of laughter. “We’ll see,” he murmured.

“Shit,” Tobirama hissed under his breath, the red in his face no longer just from anger.

“Good to know my presence is appreciated,” Madara teased.

“No one in your life has ever appreciated your company as much as you appreciate your own, I’m sure.”

“Ooh snap!” Hashirama laughed until Madara's bitchy stare made him wither and giggle nervously. “What? People still say that, right? It was really popular for a while.”

Trying not to question his choice in friends for the millionth time, Madara removed himself from the conversation and headed downstairs. If Tobirama wanted to complain about him being here then he had no desire to stand there and listen to it. His time was better spent circling the living room and sitting in every available seat one by one to figure out where he’d have the least amount of screen glare while he worked. The couch felt best since it would also be closest to the coffee table where he could spread out his notebooks and set up the external hard drives he’d brought but he had to be sure. In all the years he had spent visiting this home he’d never had to properly set himself up before. It felt weird. Eventually two other pairs of footsteps followed him down at a much slower pace and Hashirama’s voice hailed him from the kitchen, encouraging him to abandon his laptop in front of the space he’d chosen.

A quaint little scene greeted him when he entered the room. Mito seemed to have gained several inches around her waist since the last time he saw her and she wasn’t carrying it very gracefully, legs braced in an uncomfortable-looking manner while her husband used his freakish height to lean around her belly for a kiss. Behind them, Tobirama had been deposited in a chair to face the wall. He probably didn’t much care where he sat since all he needed at the moment was his ears but it was still funny to see him facing the wall like he’d suddenly taken a deep interest in the terrible paint scheme.

“Good, you heard me!” Hashirama straightened and gestured for Madara to come closer. “I thought I’d give you a little tour so you don’t have to go looking for anything later! This is the stove–”

“Fascinating,” Madara interrupted him. From over in his corner Tobirama snorted.

“I’m just being thorough! So, this is where we keep the cups and things.”

Mito patted her husband on the shoulder as she waddled laboriously towards the fridge. “He knows where things are, dear. We’ve been living here for years and he comes over all the time. It’s good of you to worry, though.”

“But what about when he has to cook? He’ll need to know where all the pots and pans and things are!”

“You idiot, I make dinner for you guys all the time when you’re all working late. I do know where all your shit is!” Madara wondered if there was some kind of medical miracle that would let Hashirama give his eyesight over to his brother for a while. Clearly he was the one that needed a two week time out.

Flustered, Hashirama stood there looking around the kitchen as though he’d just realized that was true. Then he jumped when the pager on his hip went off at full volume. After checking it he looked back up with an apologetic shrug. “Any chance you’d be alright to make dinner for tonight? I was going to start cooking but apparently I’m needed at the hospital.”

“Get going,” Madara rumbled as an agreement. He looked away from the awkwardness of Mito trying to kiss her husband without spilling her juice or squishing their poor child.

“Make something tasty for them!” Hashirama called on his way to the front door. “And leave me some leftovers!”

Since no one else was speaking and no one seemed to be trying to leave the room either, Madara supposed both of his current housemates expected him to actually get down to cooking right this second. He listened to the purr of Hashirama’s car starting up again outside the window while he pulled open the cupboards to let his eyes roam over the contents. A quick check in the small chest freezer off in one corner revealed two kinds of fish, three cuts of beef, and a small glazed ham. For the two people who lived here full time. It really was a good thing they were rich if they were going to just let so much good food go bad before they could use it.

Knowing this was probably going to end in a fight, he asked, “Any requests?”

“Salmon,” Tobirama responded immediately.

“Chicken,” Mito rebutted. “And pickles. I want chicken and pickles.”

“A disgusting combination. Unfortunately we don’t have any chicken.” Madara shrugged, putting that idea to rest in his mind. Then he froze when Mito gave him a sharp look.

Enunciating each word very precisely, she repeated herself. “I want chicken and pickles.”

“I’ll order some fast food then, shall I?”

“Acceptable.” Nodding like an appeased queen, she waddled her way over to try and fit herself in to one of the kitchen chairs.

Frowning now with disappointment, Tobirama turned his eyeless stare in Madara's general direction with a plaintively hopeful, “Salmon?”

Madara leveled him with a sharp look that went entirely unnoticed, though it took him until Mito covered her mouth to hide her amusement for him to realize that. Then he huffed to cover his misstep and crossed his arms.

“I’ll order you a fish sandwich,” he said.

“That’s not the same at all,” Tobirama complained.

“Well it’s what you’re getting. If I’m ordering food for her then I don’t see the point in going to all the trouble of cooking as well.” God only knew that with his luck he wouldn’t cook enough for Mito but the smell of their dinner would give her a new craving. That was not a headache he wanted to deal with.

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Madara pulled out his phone and opened the app for his favorite junk food place. They had a pretty decent chicken sandwich and the fish sandwich at least looked alright, though he’d never tried it himself, so he might as well get to enjoy his favorite burger at the same time. Knowing the two assholes across the room from him they would both fall on the food like animals as soon as it arrived and leave him to pay.

With that taken care of he was free to stare at the back of Tobirama’s head and wonder just what kind of madness he’d gotten himself in to by agreeing to stay here for a couple of weeks. Hashirama owed him big time for this.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #hashirama #mito #fanfiction

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glaivenoct · 6 years ago

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Lover, Fighter Ch. 4

Words: 6, 634

Summary: The rematch rolls around and Nyx has a lot on his mind. Mostly The Prince, but he's not going to say that out loud

(ao3) please consider taking the time to drop by and let me know if you liked it ^.^

(It’s been a while, friends ^^; I hope this longer-ish chapter makes up for it?)

The rhythmic thud of his heart ringing in his ears makes Nyx’s escort to the cage much more apprehensive. Everything around him seems to move slower. There’s less praise for him tonight. Between the myriad of voices, the whistling and the fist pumping, the bellows that stand out the most to Nyx tonight are more along the disapproving lines of:

“Don’t wuss out this time!”

“Put up or shut up!”

“Last chance, Hero!”

But one voice in the back of his mind stands out among them all.

“There will always be someone with something nasty to say, Nyx. Don’t lash out at words. Be better than the ones those people use to describe you.”

That dose of his mother’s wisdom resulted from one of his troublesome teenage brawls, of course. It might’ve taken a school suspension for him to effectively put it into practice, but he still got there. It does wonder for him now. Remaining indifferent to the fuss of jeers that fill the underground arena is anything but difficult. They boggle Nyx more than they bother him, but he stopped trying to understand the perspective of spectators long ago. It serves as nothing but a distraction, and tonight is not a night where he needs a distraction.

Hilarious, considering who he’s about to face again.

His mother called him earlier and asked what his plans were for tonight. The lie of a few beers with his friends rolled too easily off his tongue. It left a sour taste in his mouth as it always does. Haunts every step he takes to the cage.

He’s the one being escorted to The Prince this time. Typical protocol for rematches. Champion awaiting the defeated, basking in the esteem of their supporters while the other makes their trek to a shot at redemption.

This isn’t Nyx’s first rematch. It’s his first time being the one to request it and his first time being escorted as the defeated. He’s had his losses in the past, but an opponent’s never lingered on his brain long enough to care. A loss has never bothered him to the point where he couldn’t suck it up and move on.

Nyx already sees The Prince as he makes his way towards the cage door. He wonders if he’ll be cocky tonight, or fired up with a whole new attitude that he’ll love to hate. It took a few days for Nyx to even hear that he agreed to the rematch. Part of him wondered if that was intentional or not.

Not that his heart skipped a beat every time his phone buzzed in his pocket at work. Not disappointing at all every time Nyx checked his phone to discover that, no, he didn’t get a response about the stupid Prince yet. Nope.

If there was anything to be disappointed about, it was the decreasing chances of winning his money back for his family. Right?

No distractions, Nyx reminds himself. No distractions.

Someone’s next to The Prince inside the cage. He’s bigger. Much bigger and towering over him, arms crossed and face grim, almost teetering along the lines of admonishment. Nyx’s brows rise in interest. The Prince’s face is shadowed by his hood like before, but he nods and raises a hand to placate his friend.

The big guy is the perfect candidate for one of Nyx’s typical opponents. Someone he would’ve expected to walk into the cage almost a week ago rather than The Prince. He might be the equivalent of Libertus. A friend sticking by him through rash, stupid decisions, ready to catch him should he fall tonight.

Maybe the two of them have more in common than Nyx realizes.

“Hey.” Crowe’s surprisingly soft voice startles him. He’s got two friends standing by him tonight. The unease on Crowe’s face the second she was exposed to the rabid enthusiasm of the crowd couldn’t be more telling it’s her first time here. Nyx is grateful to have her here even if he’s aware she doesn’t approve of this. Even as she hardly looks at him and digs her hands into his pockets, he knows what she’s going to say. “Worst case scenario… let it go this time, will ya?”

“I’ll be careful.” At least, that’s the most honest answer he can give her. He shrugs off his purple hoodie to hand to Libertus. The referee's voice begins booming above them, bringing Nyx’s attention to the cage door. A man unlocks and pulls it open, waiting patiently for him. “Go time.”

He takes a deep breath and heads for the open door.

“It’s one of our biggest rematches to date, folks! Tonight I present to you our newest champion. The spitfire himself. His highness, The Prince!”

Nyx moves up the small set of steps leading to the cage’s platform, looking to see The Prince’s reaction to the crowd erupting around them. His view is obscured by the bulk of another. Nyx pauses in stride, meeting amber eyes as fiery as The Prince’s attitude. The big guy. A warning flashes in the brief narrowing of his brows and tightening of his jaw. It distrantly reminds Nyx of the look he gave the older kids that picked on Selena in grade school. Valiantly protective even when she’s always been capable of standing up for herself.

The Prince might be able to hold his own down here, but he’s still got people in his corner. That much Nyx can gather from the big guy’s glare, but it doesn’t worry him. He matches it boldly, unwavering when they brush past each other and bump shoulders.

No distractions. No distractions.

Ahead, The Prince awaits him in the center, coat removed, attention roaming the crowd as they praise and ridicule him. His face is detached to it all as ever, but the way his hands flex and clench at his sides speaks otherwise.

“Take me on, sweet thing!” Someone from the floor seating shouts. “Won’t be so pretty once I’m through with you!”

The corner of The Prince’s lips twitch at that. Nyx sees the tension bunching in his shoulders as he turns his head to face the obnoxious spectator. He holds himself back from reacting on impulse. Settles for the challenging sneer that screams I dare you even from where Nyx is standing. He purses his lips and blows a kiss at the man with a wink.

Yup, still fearless. Still hates being called pretty.

Still is pretty.

Nope. Nyx stops there.

No distractions. No distractions. He takes another deep breath.

“Here to take back his long held title and show this newcomer who really runs the ring,” the ref gestures across the way to Nyx, “I present to you our favorite Hero.”

The reaction seems to be a bit more positive towards him this time, but he can still hear people yelling at him to get his shit together. Nyx just straightens his spine and notes The Prince’s attention fixing on him as he approaches the center of the ring.

“Gentlemen,” the ref says, standing between them. “This is a rematch. As a reminder, rematches consist of two to three rounds. Each round isn’t over till somebody taps out. The best two out of three will determine the rightful winner. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” says The Prince who refuses to break the sudden staring contest they’ve engaged in. Nyx confirms his own understanding with a firm nod.

“Make it a good one fellas. May the best fighter win.”

The man slips away just as the blare of a horn signals the start of the rematch. Oddly, Nyx finds his brain scrambling for something to say. Is there anything to even say? Hi? How’s it going? How’s your back? Fuck you? Gods, no one’s messed with his head like this before. Nyx wants to punch himself right now instead. Another deep breath. No distractions.

The Prince falls into his defensive stance, and without a thought, Nyx presses a fist to his chest to offer him a mock bow. A soft “Your highness,” slips from his lips. A few laughs and encouraging whistles sounds from the crowd. Nyx straightens in time to catch the annoyed eye roll from his royal opponent.

“You’re an idiot.” A familiar sapphire glare pierces Nyx, sparking a hankering surge of adrenaline in him, lighting the cage brighter than the gloom of the flickering lights they stands under.

His mother’s voice warns him not to lash out again. He knows that means verbally in this case, because Nyx is a pro at further instigating sarcastic jab fests. It’s so hard not to with him, though.

“You’re still small and full of spite I see.” Nyx smirks.

“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” He smirks right back. Nyx ignored the fascinated little flutter in his chest. “Really couldn’t stand that I swooped in and stole your title like it was nothing. You hardly waited a day before you asked for a rematch.”

“Don’t know about you, little prince,” Nyx raises his fists and circles around him, “but I’m in this for the money. That’s all this is about.”

“Wow, you’re an idiot and full of shit. Wonders never cease.”

“Shiva,” Nyx laughs. “You’re even mouthier than before. I think I like that.”

“Think it’ll get you to put up a decent fight this time?” That taunting tilt of his head, the cock of his eyebrows… Nyx would be lying if he said he didn’t miss this.

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

And with that, Nyx launches himself forward and prepares a fist. The Prince braces for defense, which is exactly what Nyx wants. He ducks past him at the last second. Whips around and kicks above the small of his back. The Prince staggers forward but catches himself before he falls to his knees, a gasp leaving him.

He’s reaching behind himself to knead the area, pausing to confirm that his initial shock hasn’t delayed any crippling pain. Nyx could take this opening to strike at him again. He could. He waits and watches intrigued instead. Worth it to catch The Prince huffing out a breath, rising slowly and turning to fix him with that killer glare.

“Your move, little prince.”

“Don’t call me little prince.”

The fists come at Nyx in a flurry. He blocks the first hurling towards his face with his forearm, skips back to evade the second aiming for his gut. They clash knees, Nyx raising his to stop a high roundhouse kick short. The Prince grunts in frustration and charges at him, locks arms around his waist and shoves him back into the wire.

Nyx has no chance to regain his focus before a fist promptly connects beneath his chin, sending his head snapping right back against the wire. His teeth clash together and split the skin inside his mouth. He sucks in a breath, wedges a knee between them, and kicks The Prince halfway across the ring. So hard he ends up on his back. Half the crowd stands from their seats to pump a fist in the air.

“Come on,” Nyx approaches in full confidence, “You don’t think I put up that bad of a fight last time, do you?”

“Everyone else does.” The Prince winces when he maneuvers onto his side. “They like to chop it up to you having a bad night and me getting lucky. If someone like you loses to someone like me, it must be luck, right? Not because I’m actually good at fighting.”

There’s a bite in The Prince’s tone, bitter as the rampant winds of a winter blizzard. His face falters from venomous resentment into wearied hysteria. It’s the briefest flicker of someone nearly slipping from the ends of a tattered rope. A young man setting the highest expectations of no one other than himself, eager to be better than the nasty words and baseless presumptions of those around him.

The questions circle in Nyx’s mind again like that first night. He shouldn’t be probing his own curiosities further. Not now, of all times. No distractions, no distractions. Now’s the perfect time to strike again.

Alas.

“That’s what you’re in this for,” he says. “You like proving people wrong and making them sorry they ever doubted you.”

The Prince visibly flinches. Nyx senses the fear in him for once. It’s as if no one’s ever thrown that in face before. Though, perhaps everyone else’s always been too busy fussing on about how “pretty” he is or betting that he “doesn’t stand a chance” against anyone bigger than him. They all focus on the surface. Get a kick out of the attitude and defiance, but no one bothers to look beyond it. That’s clear to Nyx this very moment.

It’s clearer in the way The Prince presses his lips together firmly and retreats behind the icy visage of a tempermental stare. “The hell is it to you?”

That’s not a no. Nyx is a bit disappointed it isn’t. Something tells him The Prince has been scorned one too many times. Maybe by people he cared for and trusted. That anger has to originate somewhere, didn’t it?

No distractions. No distractions.

But Nyx can’t help but sympathize for a minute like he did that first night.

It costs him. The Prince slides himself across the floor to kick Nyx in the shins. He staggers with a cry.

“Come on!” He hears one spectator cry. “Pull your head out of your ass!”

Right. Distractions. Moment of sympathy officially over

Nyx dives out of the way of the next blow, rises and nails The Prince with a mean right hook. Then a left. The Prince catches the next one in his palm. Nyx is tugged forward, kneed sharply in the gut, and gets a prompt uppercut. Weight crashes into him, but his vision is nowhere near clear enough to stop himself from collapsing to the floor.

Then The Prince is on top of him.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this, Highness.”

“Shut. Up.” Gloved hands grab Nyx’s wrists and pin them to the floor, squeezing hard enough to make him bite the inside of his cheek and squirm.

But Nyx manages to shimmy a leg out from beneath The Prince, hooking it around his waist and across his back. He rolls on his side to kick him away, leaving them to clamber back to their feet.

The minutes pass on, and every block, counter and swift dodge has Nyx’s frustration increasing by each one. The crowd grows just as restless, standing from their seats in sheer anticipation every time one pins or corners the other.

Then The Prince kicks Nyx back down to his knees. He feels weight on his back, an arm securing around his throat, and a palm at the back of his head. Pressure. Nyx gasps to suck in air, tucking his chin down and frantically thrusting an elbow into The Prince’s abdomen. Once, twice, a third. The spitfire bites back his cries, jolts a bit with each hit, but doesn’t let up.

So Nyx jerks to the left and right in a fight for air. He rocks forward to try to haul his opponent over his shoulders, but he’s pulled back upright with a determined growl. When the color in his vision begins to bleed away, he knows it’s over. He has seconds, maybe, before he blacks out. He supposes it’s better to swallow his pride than to pass out in front of the crowd. With the frenzied shreds of consciousness he has left, he taps at The Prince’s shoulders several times.

He’s released immediately; lurching forward, coughing and heaving as the horn sounding above them signifies the end of the round. The crowd equally cheers and groans. The ref steps back inside to approach The Prince and raise his arm in victory. Nyx balls both his hands into fists. While he’s bent over and catching his breath, he closes his eyes. Drowns out the belittling comments that are shouted at him. Thinks of his mother telling him to be better.

She wouldn’t say that to him in this context of all things, but it still motivates him to brush it off and try again.

“Ulric.” A hand claps down on his shoulder. He senses the ref kneeling to his level. “Ulric, you need a minute?”

People usually take five or so in between rounds to gather themselves or take stock of what injuries they’ve sustained so far. It’d be wise for him to do that, but right now there’s something bubbling beneath his skin. Something prideful and primal telling him that the only thing he needs to do right now is fight. One more deep breath. He shakes his head and opens his eyes, refusing the hand the ref holds out to help him stand.

“Round two it is.” The man stands with him and waves a hand that sounds the horn again.

Across from him, The Prince stands without a smirk or smile in sight. He’s cold and stone-faced, fists alreadying coming at the ready, the faintest wrinkle between his brows. There’s no way he isn’t hurting after the way Nyx repeatedly elbowed him in the ribs. He can stand there and glare all he wants, but Nyx knows the little spitfire isn’t invincible.

“One out of three, Hero.” For every step The Prince takes toward him, Nyx takes a step back. “This could be your last chance.”

“You trying to get in my head, little prince?”

His jaw tightens, no doubt at the nickname, but he laughs at the question. “I think I already am. I think I have been since the first fight. From what I hear, you don’t ask for rematches.”

“Couldn’t afford not to this time.” Nyx gives him a wry smile. “I lost a lot of money on you.”

“I’ve had plenty of practice in spotting liars, Hero. I don’t know why you’re lying, but you are.”

Nyx’s heart spikes in his chest. He can’t be that obvious, can he? He scoffs to cover up any indication that The Prince’s observations are correct.

“Alright spitfire, you caught me. If you really want to know, the only reason I asked for a rematch was so I could see that pretty face of yours one last time.” He dares to mimic him from earlier, winking and blowing a kiss his way.

It’s a bold move. For once it isn’t because of Nyx’s mouth working faster than his head. If he can just get him fired up and avoid all his attacks, he can wear him out and take him down. Still, Nyx isn’t sure if he regrets making the comment or not as he watches the tension bundle back into The Prince’s shoulders. The realization seeps into those soft features. The resentment starts to simmer in the depths of his eyes.

Not one word or comeback is uttered. The Prince only shakes in visible anger. It’s a lapse of silence before he charges at him.

And Nyx dodges, dives and rolls away from each furious attack. He bides his time and observes for his openings, sneaks in a good punch when he finds them. Something churns in his stomach when The Prince recovers from one with a bloody lip to show for it. Similar to the first fight again.

No distractions. No sympathy. But deep down Nyx isn’t proud to resorting to the tactic of using the word “pretty” against him like everyone else. Isn’t proud of waiting for the prime opportunity to take advantage of that weak spot in his back. There aren’t many rules in the cages to begin with, and that’s never bothered Nyx before, but…

No wonder he’s obvious.

As the second round becomes an endless chase, Nyx sees the tell-tale signs of The Prince relying more on his anger than his instincts. It happens quicker than he expects - sloppy footwork and strategies that aren’t well thought out. Quite the contrast to last time where the word pretty drove him to push through to victory instead. Not that Nyx should be complaining about that.

He takes a punch and gets an elbow to the back. It causes him to collapse to his knees, but he has the sense to roll off to the side. Sure enough, The Prince’s foot misses his gut by inches. Nyx takes his chance to trap The Prince’s other ankle between his own and sweep his feet right from under him. He falls on his back with a sharp gasp and scrambles to sit up. Nyx kicks him back down and crawls over him.

How they keep ending up on top of each other like this - well, he tries not to think about that. Refusing to let The Prince wrestle his way back on top, he applies extra pressure to his ribs with a forearms. That stills him immediately and causes his face to screw up in pain. Nyx can tell he’s biting back a whine, so he presses a little harder.

He only lets up when he hears a faint whimper.

“Looks like it isn’t my last chance after all, huh?” He cocks a brow.

“I could still…” he grunts and tries to move his legs, but Nyx keeps them trapped with the weight of his own, “turn this around…”

“I could turn you around. See how that tender spot in your back’s doing from last time.”

“This where you act all high and mighty and tell me to tap out for my own good?”

“It’s either that or this.” Nyx applies the pressure again. He ignores the sour churn in his stomach when The Prince groans and writhes beneath him. “C’mon, little prince. This round is mine.”

It takes the mutinous shake of the head. An irritable roar and the desperate twist of wrists. The clawing of fingers and flailing of elbows. A good minute of struggling, of flushing in abhorrence at every chant from the crowd that urges The Prince to tap out. It’s a war with inner pride. A desire to be seen as anything but weak. It begins to peek through the cracks in his iron armor. Nyx adds pressure again to break it completely.

The Prince arches and wails. He wrenches a hand free and taps the floor three consecutive times.

The crowd collectively jumps back to their feet. Gasps of shock fill the arena, cheers soon following in tandem. Nyx blinks. People are cheering for him rather than berating him. A foot rests against his gut and shoves him away. He stumbles but stands, realizing that The Prince is inching away from him. It doesn’t sink in till the ref’s approaching him and taking his arm to raise it in victory.

He still has a chance to take it all back. Nyx straightens his shoulders as he looks out to the crowd, feeling the confidence starting to pile back in to him.

He shouldn’t feel as bad as he does watching The Prince curl in on himself, moving onto his side, wrapping an arm protectively around his ribs while he cringes and pants. Nyx didn’t break his ribs. He made sure of that, but there’s no way there isn’t a nasty bruise beginning to bloom beneath that shirt. Though The Prince still manages to rise to his feet with all the looming severity of a pending storm. Dark bangs cling to the sweat beading on his forehead. Rosy cheeks puff as he huffs out a breath and rolls his shoulders.

If that’s not the most beautiful storm Nyx has ever seen…

No. Distractions.

Distracted or not, nothing could prepare Nyx for that storm to suddenly rush at him. The referee’s barely let go of his arm. Hasn’t even asked them if they’d like a minute to gather themselves. The horn that would signify the beginning of the next round hasn’t sounded either. It doesn’t keep The Prince from ramming all of his weight into Nyx.

They meet the floor with mutual grunts and gasps. Nyx swears he hears the ref curse and run off, but the crowd drowns it out. He hears a mix of hurrahs and protests. Not that anyone’s protest of his highness jumping the gun would make a difference. Even when the horn belatedly sounds as the two roll back and forth over each other, Nyx knows it won’t matter.

The place still runs on little rules and regulations. The only real purpose of having a referee in the first place is to start rounds and announce winners. The people who run this place could care less about someone getting too eager. They’re probably eating it all up instead.

Meanwhile, Nyx fights with all his strength for dominance with The Prince. Just when he thinks he has it, The Prince pushes back, and Nyx feels his back pressing in the wire. A right and left hook cause the bitter, metallic taste of blood to touch his tongue. He spits some of it out and shakes his head, grabbing The Prince’s forearms before he can punch him again. With a low grunt, he tosses him off to the side like he weighs nothing.

Nyx’s adrenaline is at its peak. The tingle of it beneath his skin makes him feel light as a feather as he stands. It emanates from The Prince as well. Feeds into his own and sends a chill surging through him rnyitr;u.

The third round becomes a storm in it’s own right. Or rather, the collision of two separate ones. Raw and chaotic with nothing left to lose. Filled with grueling cries, sweat rolling down their necks and seeping into their shirts, an insufferable heat between them whenever they get up close and personal with one another.

They reach a lapse where neither lands a single hit for nearly an entire minute. The Prince tapping back into his agility with spinning kicks, defensive backflips and borderline acrobatic evades. Nyx might not be as graceful, but he can still be agile, whirling, skipping, ducking and shuffling from harm’s way.

He catches The Prince’s next fist in his palm, twists his arm behind his back and drives him back up to the wire.

“You know,” Nyx says between his heavy breaths, pressing his full weight against The Prince’s back, “I’m kind of going to miss this once it’s over.”

“You’re a bigger idiot than I thought if you think this is anywhere close to over.” The Prince growls, pushing back against Nyx, gasping when he feels a palm settle against that spot in his lower back.

“Oh, I think we’re as good as close to over.” Nyx presses his palm a little more insistently, causing The Prince to muffle a groan into his own shoulder, sag between the wire and his opponent. “Unless you’re interested in another rematch.”

He shakes his head. “I know how to accept my losses and be done with them. I’ve got nothing to prove to you anymore.”

“Anymore, huh?” Nyx curls the crook of his arm around The Prince’s throat. He binds him close as asks right against his ear. “Why’d you agree to this in the first place then?”

He chuckles despite his struggle in the tight hold. “If you really want to know…” he mimics Nyx’s tone from the second round, teasing and spiteful. “I only agreed so I could punch your stupid face one last time.”

Nyx chuckles with him and tightens his hold. “It’s been a pleasure, spitfire.”

“Not…” He vies for the remnants of his strength to claw at Nyx’s arm, but they’re both down to their last legs. Worn out from the mutual ferocity since the first horn sounded. “Over…” The Prince twists in his arms. Left, right, forwards and backwards. “Yet.” He tucks his chin in. Nyx feels lips brushing against his arm.

The last thing he expects to feel is teeth biting his skin.

Strings of pained curses spill from Nyx’s lips. He withdraws like he’s been shocked, cradling his arm in his palm to survey the damage. He stares at the red, wet mark with wide eyes, short astonished huffs of breath escaping him.

“What the fuck?!”

Similar shouts sprout around him, disbelieving laughs and gasps. Nyx barely gets a chance to look up before there’s another fist in his face. He stumbles backwards, but an arm locks around his neck to steady him. In another beat he’s dragged down to the floor, the arm suddenly tightening around his throat. Nyx gasps and writhes in The Prince’s arms.

“It’s been a pleasure, Hero.”

Nyx shakes his head, a desperate, persevering growl creeping from the back of his throat. He musters up enough strength to sit up and resist the arm that tries to drag him back down. He reaches behind him, grabbing for a shirt, skin, ribs, anything he can use to stagger The Prince. He settles for elbowing him again, getting a yowling curse from him. Nyx isn’t released completely, but the grip is lightened just enough for him to find it in himself to lean forward and slowly push himself to his feet.

He means to toss The Prince right over his shoulders, pin him down and presa a knee to his back until he taps out. But as he stands, the spitfire locks his legs across Nyx’s waist. The pressure around his neck trengthens. The wire - If Nyx can make his way to the wire to slam them both against it.

His vision blurs on the first step forward he takes. The wild cacophony of the crowd is nothing but distant static to his ears. His will begs to hang on a little longer, but he wavers on his next step and collapses to his knees.

Not again and certainly not like this. If he can just - If he can just -

Black begins to tinge the corners of his vision. The point of no return. Nyx swallows his pride once more, leans forward, and taps the floor three times.

The deafening commotion crashes around him the second The Prince lets him go. Nyx crumples forward like some worn and forgotten ragdoll, sucking in huge gups of breath. Coughing and bracing one hand against the floor as he rests his forehead against it.

He lost. He lost and he’s not sure how he feels about it. He can hardly form a coherent thought or properly process whatever the ref is spewing into his microphone overhead. Something about the rightful winner. Something about someone truly proving themselves.

Nyx lifts his head when enough oxygen’s restored itself to his brain. He looks over his shoulder to see the exact image he saw that first night. The Prince’s arm raised in triumph, slowly rotating around to face the crowd with grace. Not a trace of animosity, nor a hint of boasting. Only a modest sense of accomplishment in the straightening of his shoulders and the slightest raise of his chin.

Nyx catches an obscure twinge in The Prince’s eyes when they meet with his. It comes off as sympathy, or perhaps pity, though he can’t be sure. Those are the last things Nyx wants from him anyway.

So he ducks his head back down instead to pretend he’s still catching his breath. Though he can still feel those eyes burning something into his hunched, defeated form.

Nyx decides to find him once the crowd has settled and somewhat cleared out. Once Libertus and Crowe have done their fussing over him, examined the prominent teeth marks on his skin and prodded at his back, shoulders and ribs to test his pain. They questioned him when he stalked away from them like a man on a mission, yelled at him to not do something stupid. Probably thinking he was off to ask for another rematch.

“Give me five minutes,” is all he gives them. Barely with a glance back over his shoulder.

It’s a good thing he didn’t promise Crowe he’d let this go.

But Nyx has decided he isn’t upset about losing again. Not in the way one would think. Sure, he didn’t take back the title he’d been holding onto for months now. Sure, he didn’t show that little shit who really runs the ring. Sure, he should be mad about losing out on money for his family twice in a row, but none of it is a concern to him at the moment.

So I could see that pretty face of yours one last time. Nyx almost scoffs. He’s not sure if The Prince actually believed that, or if he was just that repulsed by being called pretty. That’s the only reason Nyx made the comment. To get a rise out of him. Or so he thought, but now he’s here with a pounding heart and a strong sense of unfinished business casting over him like a dark cloud.

He needs to actually talk to The Prince. Without all the shit-talk, the bravado, the fronts of Hero and Prince themselves. Gods, he doesn’t even know The Prince’s name, does he?! He must have a name. There’s something more under all that armor. Nyx can sense it and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t let his curiosity get the better of him this time.

Thus, he finds himself stepping quietly into one of the stuffy locker rooms, where The Prince has his bare back to him, is gloveless and in a fresh pair of sweats. Nyx swallows, prepared to immediately duck out and wait another minute or so, but then he notices something. Something that stops him in his tracks.

A scar. A long, jagged scar slashing across his back. Starting from his shoulder, curving down well past the hem of his pants, it seems. White ghosting at the edges, giving Nyx the chills as he ponders what in the hell could have possibly happened to leave a mark like that.

But Nyx gets it now. The scar may have a fade to it, one that indicates it being many years old, but the severity of it was enough to leave a lasting impact on The Prince. One that may be easily irritated in a cage fight. Nyx grimaces to himself. What the hell was this kid thinking?

He forces himself to shove the thought away for now as The Prince grabs a new T-shirt from the open duffle on the bench. Black, just like his sweats. A good color on him, Nyx has noticed. In fascination, he watches lean muscles work and move as The Prince pulls the garment over his head, carefully adjusting the hem at the bottom.

No distractions pops into his head again and Nyx practically startles himself with it. Right. He hopes the big guy from earlier doesn’t magically appear and catch him ogling

He steps further inside, quietly, trying to decide what exactly he should say.

“Hey.” Seems to be the safest option.

But The Prince suddenly tenses up like he feels unsafe. He whirls around, lips pursing in surprise. Once he sees Nyx, his eyebrows crease, an annoyed little wrinkle forming between them.

“If this is about another rematch, I swear - ”

“No!” Nyx raises both hands. “No, no, I… I come in peace?” He clears his throat and lowers his hands. “No. Guess I’m learning to accept my losses and be done with them.”

The Prince eyes him with skepticism, paying particular attention to his face. Either to look at his bruises jaw or search for any signs of dishonesty.

“What do you want, then?”

“I wanted to congratulate you.”

“What?” The Prince’s brow’s rise now, lips quirking at the corners, begging to curve into a smile that matches the disbelief of his snort.

“Congratulations,” Nyx repeats firmer this time. “I know I talked a lot of shit, but… you’re one hell of a fighter. I mean it.” The Prince licks the dried up, blood cut on his lower lip, eyes faltering to his feet. For some reason, Nyx panics. “Not that you need my approval! Or… anyone’s. You’re obviously sure of yourself. Don’t cater to anyone’s expectations.”

“Thanks…” He’s cautious, beginning to glance back towards his duffle bag, slowly starting to turn.

“And I’m sorry.” That gets The Prince’s attention back just like Nyx wants. One brow raised this time. Nyx sticks his hands into the pockets of his purple hoodie and bites shy of his own busted lip. “For messing with your back and calling you pretty on purpose.”

“Can’t say anyone’s ever come back to apologize for calling me names in the heat of a fight.” He’s still guarded, but his face is softening up to a degree Nyx has never seen before. Like the settling of the storm unleashed inside the cage. Beautiful in rage as he in the silent aftermath.

“You don’t have to accept it. Just felt like the right thing to do.”

“You apologize to everyone you fight, Hero?”

“No. You’d be the first.”

“Why?”

Nyx shrugs. “A lot of people had a lot of nasty things to say about you, but none of it slowed you down. All you did is be better than the words they used to describe you. Proved me wrong and put me in my place twice.” He smiles. Not mocking or goading like before, but genuine and amicable as he can make it. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever fought before, spitfire.”

Nyx can see by the dumbfounded, stilling stare from The Prince that no one’s ever said anything like this to him before. Certainly not in cages as tough as these whether he proved himself or not. Nyx thought he deserved to hear it at least once.

“You’re not lying.” The Prince blinks at him.

“No.” Nyx chuckles. He doesn’t expect him to warm up to him immediately. Not after a fight like that. The Prince bit him, shiva’s sake. “I’m not.”

“Just when I thought I had you figured out, Hero.”

“Wonders never cease, remember?”

“Right. Well…” The Prince rubs the back of his neck and glances down. “Thanks. You’re not half bad yourself. Sorry for, um, biting you.”

Nyx bares his forearm where the marks are still present, shrugging and smirking in amusement. “Like I said, unlike anyone I’ve ever fought before.” The Prince’s lips quirks again. Not quite into a smile, but into something warm enough to encourage Nyx to say, “I never got your name, by the way. Shame for me not to know how to address royalty properly, don’t you think?”

The Prince hesitates. He seems to almost shift in place and fight the urge to fidget with the ends of his shirt. Nyx takes no offense to it, but a small part of him hopes and hopes.

“Noctis.”

“Prince Noctis.” Nice name, Nyx thinks, smiling again and nodding at it. “Got it. My name’s Nyx. Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll see you around some time, Noctis.”

“Maybe,” Noctis says softly, still carrying hints of awe in the deep blue of his eyes. Nyx takes that as his cue to give him a final nod and leave.

He takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders, feeling much better than he did at the end of that fight. Nyx means to reverse the complete ass of himself he made inside the cage now that the actual fighting is over. He’s better than this. He’s always been. He hopes Noctis will see that. It’s not about the title of reigning champion. Not about his pride or money or, hell, even his family. There’s no reason to deny that anymore.

He still has questions, after all. So many questions. Perhaps if he plays his cards right, he’ll be worthy enough to find the answers. He just needs to use his brain rather than his fists.

And if he has anything to say or do about it, Nyx will definitely see Noctis around some time soon.

#nyxnoct #noctis lucis caelum #nyx ulric #cage fighter au #author entries: fics

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kurtty-drabbles · 6 years ago

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Vampire au

N/A: An sort of mix of Dracula and Hellsing here. Kurt D is too cool to not be both. Also, this is an AU so mutants are here walking and talking and still going on the same social norms as the humans, now, I´d not know all the details on the Victorians social cues...so, I´ll make things up, but, hey, those are fucked up times so...yeah.

@djinmer4 @bamfoftheundead @dannybagpipesarecalling @sailorstar9 @discordsworld @look-ma-no-hands336

Victorian England is a period that is inspiring many writers to write romance, even though, ironically, most of the romances about ladies seeking marriages comes from nobles men.

Romance is a mechanism and hardly is a matter of the heart. Kitty "Ariel" Pryde can testify how Victorian England can be devoid of colour and full of rules.

In fact, the only excitement is when a new neighbour moves to the two storey house in front of Kitty Pryde, the house is pretty old, always give a haunting impression and many jokes the ghost of the past live there waiting for the master to return. Of course, is just a silly legend.

But, someone living in this old house is enough to make many people gossip. Rumour has it and is a very reliable source, a count of Bavaria is coming to stay the season in England and many women are interested in this aspect.

Yet, Ariel(as many like to call her) likes to point out no one knows anything about this man or if he´s really going to live here, and she has to admit is really boring have to gossip about a possible non-existent person.

"Better stick with my books then, at least, I´d know there´s a character there" Ariel is on the balcony of her house, the young woman is blessed to be born in a good and open mind family(many wanted Kitty to marry when she hit 14 but her family manages to dodge this situation until she´s older enough) a long-suffering sigh escape her lips "alas, I know, soon enough, I´ll have to marry, I wish something more exciting would happen, more exciting then a new neighbour"

Absently her eyes travel to the old house and watch a pair of scarlet eyes in the window. A man with azure fur and a grimace as visiting card caught her doe eyes and the woman suddenly forget her old book, who is now laying on the ground, the old house has really a master after all.

The scarlet eyes have no pupil or iris and Ariel didn´t feel time pass down, until, her mother put her hand on her shoulder telling is dinner time, and when Ariel looks back, the scarlet eyes are gone.

__________________________________________________

Jean Grey is the daughter of a wealthy family, in fact, is safe to say the Grey are so wealth to the point only the Royal family can rival, so, this makes Jean a very suitable wife to be and many, many men try to gain her affections.

Warren Warrington is the chosen one. A young bachelor who is following the decor of the engagement with all the letters, to the point, Jean and Waren, can´t see each other alone.

The Greys once hearing that the Count is in town and living so close of them, decide to throw a party in his honour, as the costume goes, of course, and Kitty Pryde has to admit, she´s too curious to see the Count.

("No one ever saw him, said he´s too ugly" "I heard he´s too handsome" "Too old, bet he has no hair in his head and wears one of those wigs" )

The man arrives, much later, when the full moon is shining in the sky without any cloud, wearing fine clothes, a smirk on his face and his eyes, still scarlet as she remembers. No pupil, no iris, and wearing a new type of glasses, one called googles, that give an orange mix with his scarlet eyes.

The man is terribly late, and the Greys show displeasure in this fact, even if he´s a noble, however, his snarl like a smile is enough to prevent the count to be scowled.

"Guten Nicht, Am I late for the party?" the count looks with a bit of mock to the surroundings. Women were separated in one corner and men in another and all are wearing far too many clothes.

Kitty, in her own little space, saw how the count´s mouth twitch upward in a mock fashion, but, maybe the others didn´t saw or care, and many mothers went to the Count to introduce him to their daughters, and, without any regards to proper education or social norms, the count just refutes saying he´s not feeling well.

"I´m a bit hungry" Kitty heard him speak with his Bavarian accent, the south Bavarian tone, and notices how the man´s teeth seem too sharp, but, her muses aren´t that important. "I´m afraid, I need to drink something, is there´s any good Bloody Mary?"

"Bloody Mary?" Kitty asked now gaining his attention and the fury of many mothers wanting to marry their daughters. Is a bit uncommon to drink Bloody Mary at this hour? And, the guests already dinner, so, why the count is hungry? Didn´t he eat? "I´m afraid Lord Williams already drink all the Bloody Mary" Kitty speaks in a light tone and she is not lying here "but, I think there´s wine here..."

"Wine?" the count is pondering for a moment "yes, that would be gut" and then he introduces himself amused by everyone´s reaction, if the foreign man wants to be the eccentric one, Kitty can join in the harmless prank. The man kissed her hand and this didn´t go unnoticed.

"Ladies, we´ll be the scandalous thing to drink wine, fret not, I´ll return the good count Darkholme in one piece" Kitty promised to the old ladies and Kurt Darkholme is far too amused.

"You shouldn´t kiss woman´s hands like that" Kitty lightly chastised as they are drinking good wine. "be prepared for tomorrow thousands of old ladies suddenly visit your house to talk about their daughter, oh, what surprised they are single" Kitty jokes and knows very well she´s breaking a protocol here, yet, she´s not caring. Later, her mother and father may chastise more seriously(but, this has to be the only time something fun happens in the Grey´s parties)

"You, English folks, are very funny to me, I´m here to have a nice vacation and I think I've got a nice place" Kurt speaks smirking and showing his teeth, they are really sharp. Kitty shakes her head. "by the way, can you tell me more about the fine people in this party? You seem to be a very reasonable person"

"Thank you, Is a cross I have to carry." she jokes and gives a small sum up of who is who. "And look, I must warn you right away, Jean Grey is engaged to Lord Warrington and this is their celebration party" she explained in the best she could, but, she must have failed as Kurt starts laughing pretty hard, almost dropping his goblet.

Kitty, not wanting to be too defiant or gain attention, put her finger on his lips, this makes the laughter ceased, while, his scarlet eyes are amused. Kitty´s finger has no glove, nothing and is touching his cold lips.

"Oh, this is a party? Oh, I´ve much to learn" Kurt Darkholme states once Kitty takes her finger from his lips.

"Yes, you´d! And, why are you here? count Darkholme?" Kitty asked the man, still gazing at his scarlet eyes.

"I´m here to have fun, Katzchen, and please, don´t call me Count Darkholme, I´m not that old" there´s a hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth again. "Can I ask a question?" the woman nods "are you here with somebody?"

"A husband?" Kitty asked again and shakes her head. Piotr is giving strong hints to want to be her husband and Kitty is giving strong replies of how she feels about that. A big NO. _______________________________________________________________

The men in the corner have enough of their private conversation and take Kurt Darkholme to their side to enjoy a nice chat as a man do. Cigars were distributed and talk about God were offered and Kurt gives a smile for all of them.

Bobby Drake or as he prefers to be called, Lord Williams(Is a name his father gave to him as he inherited the big house of the family), seems very upset the good wine is over and makes some comments about the person who steals it. "Count Darkholme, that woman has no right, I tell you, no right to take my wine" and the man is getting mad and madder. "I´ll teach that woman a lesson"

Count Darkholme only smiles. "Is life worth losing for wine?"

And Lord Williams, not minding the smiles of Count Darkholme nor the other men rolling their eyes at this childish act, replied. "Of course, is worth even die for good wine"

The party is over and people are going home, no one saw Count Darkholme´s carriage, yet, the man is no longer in the house. No one saw Lord Williams either, but, the man must be drinking with colleagues or with one of his girlfriends.

Next morning, one of the maids of the Grey household, spit Lord Williams dead in the wine cellar, attacked as an animal would and left to rotten in next to the finest wine. This news is a hot topic in the city. Along with Count Darkholme.

_______________________________________________________________

Rebellion comes in many forms, and, clearly Ariel most be the most rebel person in London as she often is reading even though, according to the social norms, is not respectable for a woman to read.

In fact, Kitty Pryde often is seen in the library with a good book in her hand and a hairpin in the other, you see, men think a woman should have the basic education, but, shouldn´t be here in the library. This is a place for men.

Kitty notices she´s going to be late, again, thanks to a good book. So, she is walking calmly with her pin in hand as men don´t always are that respectful to a woman who reads.

"Miss Pryde?" the male voice of the Count jolts the woman, but, she feels at ease, Kurt Darkholme never seems to mind how "rebel" Ariel is. "Strolling under the moonlight?" Darkholme asked showing his teeth and makes quips how the night is beautiful.

"Oh, no, not really, I was lost to time thanks to this book" she points the green cover book with a smile" and you?"

"The night is too beautiful to stay inside" and his smile seems far too feral to be humane, but, Kitty is fascinated by his scarlet eyes, it may be her silly impression, but, her eyes seem to get an even deeper shade of red. "But, I´d think I owe you an apology" Kitty is confused and Kurt continues, "you told me thousands of mothers would come to my house to make me meet their daughters...I didn´t believe in you. I´m sorry"

Kitty laughs amused. She remembers faintly, how a woman of her position isn´t allowed to laugh like that in front of a man, yet, Kitty is not caring at all.

"Don´t think too poorly of those mothers, Kurt" she speaks once she got her laughter over. And now, a sad smile creeps on her face "we, woman, live in a very cruel world, this is what we have been taught to do and is hard to think outside the proverbial box."

"Well, you seem to think outside the box, Katzchen" the man replied amused and offers to escort her home. The conversation about gender continues and Kitty notices how Kurt seems to enjoy making fun of the situation.

"In Bavaria is different?" she asked already seeing her house from the distance.

"You can say that," Kurt replied amused. Once, Kitty is greeted by her maid save and sound, Kurt adds swiftly "Save and sound, Katzchen, now, be careful next time, there are many strange things happening in this city and I don´t want nothing bad to happen to you" and with that the man politely retrieves himself.

The maid guides Kitty to the dining room, where Cameron Pryde, is talking in a hushed tone with his wife and now with his only daughter. "Normally, I would share this information with you, as is very delicate, but, I believe you two must know" and Cameron takes no time in giving the bad news "Fred Dukes is murder"

"Well, I hardly think anyone will miss him, the man was creepy and eat anything that he could take his hands on" Terry Pryde replied and Kitty knows stories of cannibalism involving Fred aka Blop.

"Yes, but...the curious part is that a shark eats the flesh of the already dead Fred, after an investigation, turns out someone drink the blood of the man and then feed to the shark, the one Dr Loius is studying, if the poor man wasn´t in another state people would suspect him"

"Well, I never like this Dr...bring a shark here? Is a silly notion" Terry replied again and Kitty mentions, once her mother stops ranting about how Dr Louis is a bad man, how many there are many stories of people with less blood than they should be.

"I´m afraid, Kitten, this is also real, the police has no idea on what to do, several women have been found drained of their own blood" and Cameron comment on the first case and Ariel somehow remembers the first day Kurt Darkholme arrives a woman lost her blood.

_______________________________________________________

Jean Grey is now anaemic. Is news that many, many people are talking about with a genuine obsession. Her fiance is trying to find a cure, and no one seems to understand how a healthy woman is almost on the verge of death, well, they don´t seem to care for that aspect very much.

"A party?" Kurt Darkholme asked as once again they are walking together, more to gossip about, and more to talk about among them. A secret jokes among friends. "Oh, like that joyful party?" the snide is visible on his face and Kitty cracks a smile.

"No, think something extravagant, now add more 10x the extravagance, those are the engagement parties, the one you went to was a mere meeting, you see, the Grey´s parties are so amazing that even the royals show up and people even make their appointment with the seamstress to get something to upper hold the party" Kitty explained with a dull expression, even her dear mother is in this fever, having the seamstress stress out for a perfect dress to Kitty. Something pink is quickly charted away and is promptly refused by Kitty. She prefers blue over pink.

"Oh, another dull party then" Kurt´s own dull face mirrors Kitty and it makes his red scar even more visible. "And how is this Jean Grey?"

"Oh" Kitty rolls her eyes "she´s the perfect example of woman, in fact, she´s not scandalous as me, her fashion is on point and never would wear something so forbidden" she jokes earning a chuckle from Kurt Darkholme. "See, Jean Grey would never show her neck as I do. What a virtuous woman"

"In comparison, your neck is much more lovely than hers"

"Thank you, my good Count, at least, you have good taste"

_______________________________________________________________

Jean Grey´s health is restored thanks to the miracle of blood donation, however, Jean Grey is a bit different and has been seen with many men and woman in her chambers. Has been using different outfits, far too revealing and has acting strange.

Before Jean Grey would blush and smile at the mention of motherhood for her, now, she recoils in horror and there´s a witness that saw a woman too similar to Jean murdering a baby.

Warren is gathering a group to help to unravel what´s happening, and to everyone´s shock, he asked Kitty Pryde for help too. Jean and Kitty aren´t closet friends in the slightest, but, in Warren´s mind, Kitty´s is discreet and good with people, and maybe, Jean could have confided something with the brunette.

They meet Jean Grey, she was in a crypt of her family, drinking the blood of a child and being half naked, not an appealing image to anyone. Especially as her teeth are now fangs and her eyes are dark as her soul.

"A vampire?!" Warren speaks in fear and tries to fight the woman he once loved, but, Jean replied sweetly. "Warren, my sweet angel boy, I´ve never loved you. And now, I´m free" and Jean Grey drains his blood.

Guns were shot as Jean Grey and no success, however, the sun is setting and the first rays of the sun are enough to make Jean Grey hurls in pain and slowly turns into dust.

No party at the Greys ever again.

"At least, the vampire is dead," one of them said, but, Kitty knows the history is not over.

______________________________________________________________

Kitty arrives in the old house, the residence of Kurt Darkholme, and is greeted by the man drinking sangria aka Bloody Mary. A smile plays on his face and Kitty is gazing at his scarlet eyes again, not as red as they were in the past.

"Jean Grey is a vampire" she speaks not minding the protocols and never will.

"I know" is his reply.

"Many people have been killed and had their blood drained"

"I know" again, is his only reply.

"And...are you a vampire too?"

"Yes," Kurt Darkholme does not deny.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"No" he replied again.

"Why are you here?"

"Honestly? To have laughter at people, your social norms are a joke for me, but, meeting you makes the experience better, Katzchen, I want to ask something and only you can answer that" Kurt Darkholme then replied in a soft tone with a Bavarian accent far too strong to be ignored "do you want to come with me? I can´t force you"

"Didn´t you ask this for Jean as well?" there´s a hint of jealousy in her tone.

"No, Jean was an accident, I drink her blood, but, she didn´t drink mine, so, she was never a real vampire, in fact, the whole experience only wake what she repressed for so long. To turn someone into a vampire the first vampire needs to share the blood, is almost like a marriage, but, with blood"

Kitty closes her eyes and asked. "It will hurt?" and this is a question that answers almost everything.

The Prydes are surprised and happy when Kitty reveals to engage with Kurt Darkholme. Even if the engagement was too soon, it does not bother them, a year from now, Kitty Pryde will be Mrs Darkholme and the Prydes are so happy that their daughter will be a countess. No questions will be made.

#aoa!Kurtty #Kurt Darkholme #vampire au #the writer regrets nothing #aoa kitty pryde #I dont know much about accuracy on the social norms on victorian era but there´s a blood man with red eyes I can make things up here #Jean went cray cray #I used Warren and Jean cause I didn´t want Scott to suffer #Why the sun killed her? Well #maybe it didn´t killed her and she can show up later as a sort of hybrid of half vampire as her mind truly think she is one #and she is jean grey

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atakportal · 6 years ago

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Metabolic Cooking

New Post has been published on https://www.uberbuyer.com/2018/07/26/metabolic-cooking/

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Our recipes take care of both sides of the equation because they not only cause you to consume fewer calories (without starving and while feeling satisfied) but they also cause you to expend more calories.

With both sides of the equation in place, it’s like you’re getting double the rate of fat loss.

A: It doesn’t matter if you have three pounds to lose or 30 (or more!), you will without a doubt benefit from these recipes both in terms of them helping you attain a state of maximum health and helping you lose body fat quickly.

When we first designed Metabolic Cooking, we had a wide variety of people in mind. We thought about those who were struggling with diets but couldn’t stick with them because they were bored to tears with the bland foods they were currently sentenced to on that approach, we thought about those who had an ultra slow metabolism from years and years of very low calorie dieting that really starved their body for nourishment, and we thought about those people who wanted to lose weight so badly but just couldn’t give up the pleasure they had in the process of eating. They wanted high-taste and weren’t willing to give it up. Oh, and we also thought about high level athletes as well. Even though most of these people are already in good shape, we know that many of them want to take things to the next level and really enhance their physique.

All of the above individuals were kept in mind when coming up with these cookbooks and all of them will benefit. These cookbooks are literally for everyone!

A: We understand that some of you may have limited access to certain foods based on where you live but I can assure you that each of the recipes uses commonly found foods that anyone should be able to find at their supermarket.

The big thing to remember is that most people had no idea the combination of these foods had such strong fat burning powers. These recipes will reveal this to you.

A: Like you, we are busy and we know that we definitely could not spend hour after hour cooking when our schedule gets filled. We also know that almost every single one of you feels the same way.

Life’s busy and you need recipes that can be ready in minutes. So, we’ve taken that into serious account when designing these.

When using these cookbooks, you won’t feel like you’ve just taken a part-time job as a chef in your very own kitchen but rather, you’ll be in and out in minutes and have a delicious fat burning meal in front of you.

Plus, we’ll also share some top secret tips for making the cooking and preparing process even faster so for those who are really short on time, you can still stick with your fat burning diet plan.

A: Guess what? Most of the people we know are in the same position. Many people don’t know the first thing about cooking (apart from how to press ‘Start’ on the microwave) but that’s fine because Metabolic Cooking is going to guide you.

Don’t let that make you think you’re going to be learning many intricate cooking strategies though. If you want that, you better check out your community college nearby for cooking courses they offer.

Instead, we’ll go over some simple and fast cooking techniques that deliver high taste and good nutrition. We also include step-by-step directions so it’s so incredibly easy to prepare our recipes, even a five year old could. They are practically ‘screw-up’ proof. It’s one of the most frequent comments we get back from my clients and readers – they can’t believe just how easy it was to prepare the meals.

A: Times are tight, we get that too. Many people are looking for ways to cut back on their food budget but I firmly believe that cutting back on cost should not mean cutting back on nutrition.

In fact, when using these cookbooks you’ll probably find you spend less each month on food than you did before. You won’t be dining out because you’ll look forward to these meals and all of the ingredients used to prepare them are so incredibly cost effective.

Plus, we’ve also included some money saving tips in the guide as well for those of you who need a little extra assistance in this area.

A: You bet! We love our ‘wiser’ clients because they often see great results and appreciate it the most out of anyone. Once you start realizing the health benefits these foods provide, you’re not only going to look better, but you’re really going to feel better each and every day.

You’ll have more energy, you’re skin will look healthier, and you’ll have a renewed sense of self-confidence.

If you’re over 50 your metabolism may have already started to decline, as it often does with age and muscle mass loss, so with these recipes, you have absolutely nothing to lose and literally everything to gain. If anyone could benefit from these recipes, it would be you!

A: This is the simplest question of all. If by some chance it doesn’t work…well, then it’s free.

Seriously. No question asked. That’s just the way it works.

Let me just put it this way: I know the impact that metabolic Cooking has had on me and my clients, and I know it’s value. I’m confident that anyone who follows it will get results. Period.

And so I offer a completely awesome and totally bullet-proof 60 day guarantee for a refund. No tricks, no loopholes. No hard feelings.

I’ll give you a full 60 days to try the recipes and if at the end of it you feel it wasn’t what you wanted, you get every penny back. It’s that simple.

I’m so confident in Metabolic Cooking that I can do this because I know it flat out works.

Test it for yourself. Experience the results for yourself. And if it’s not everything I’ve told you it is, I’ll give you a full refund and allow you to keep the entire system just for giving it an honest try.

Now THAT is a more-than-fair deal, don’t you agree?

The Metabolic Cooking System is DIGITAL and access is sent to you INSTANTLY in PDF format.

ANY computer, tablet, or mobile device can view!

Please read our truthful disclaimer: Due to recent statements from the FTC, it is required that we identify what a typical result is. The truth: most people never do anything with the products they buy, so most of the time, their typical results are zero. The biggest factor is you. Don’t use any other supplements than what we recommend. Don’t believe the tv commercials for stupid ab products. There is no such thing as a miracle pill or silver bullet. You’re the one that will make this happen. Step up and lets make this happen!

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Click here to get Metabolic Cooking at discounted price while it’s still available…

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