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lucky-catttt · 3 years ago

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Maxwell Lord’s Aphrodite - Pt 2

Summary: When Maxwell Lord’s world comes crashing down, you, his personal assistant bring him back from the pits of despair.

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x Reader (female), Maxwell Lord x You

Rating: Mature 18+ ONLY, NO MINORS ALLOWED TO READ.

Word Count: 3,885

Warnings: Prepare to put a towel down or go touch some grass after, either or LOL Mention of genitals, oral sex, squirting, face fucking, choking, names, foreplay, degradation, aftercare, BDSM, sexism/sexual harrassment.

A/N: This is my first fan-fic, so the writing might not be fantastic, but if you have any pointers/advice please tell me! I’ve also added images and gifs to help readers imagine the scenarios and reactions!

“So what kind of proposal were we thinking of that would save Black Gold corporation?” Max quizzes, leaning back against his chair. You pause to think while finishing your pastry. “Well” you begin “This space is huge, around 4,300 square feet. The lease Black Gold is renting this office floor has no major restrictions on it, so you could potentially sub-let the space on the floor for a monthly or fixed term lease to people who work remotely or teams that don’t want to commit to a larger office space. It's becoming more common because of the GFC, people can't commit to large long term leases for whole office floors anymore. You could also rent out the boardroom by the hour & also lease the private manager offices to businesses that want their own private room. And we already have a reception near the lifts, just re-hire them and make them pretend they work for all the businesses on the floor, answering their calls, doing admin work like scanning and faxing etc. As far as the business’s clients that show up are concerned, each business looks like they own the whole floor.

If we do a cost analysis and then get a small investor to cover the startup costs, we could guarantee them a return if businesses pay contract deposits or pay their lease in advance up front. Plus the landlord we owe money to. And with the top floor with amazing views and location, we can charge top dollar” Max stares at you in disbelief. “Wow, are you sure you don’t wanna be CEO?” He laughs, still in shock. You laugh, blushing. “I started working on a business proposal for one of my university assessments, if we customise it for this project we could pitch it to some investors and banks and speak to the landlord about it as well” You reply. “I could kiss you right now.” Maxwell sighs, gripping his fist. “Please do” you giggle, leaning towards him. Max reaches out both hands to cup your face, before planting a passionate kiss on your lips. “Well, I guess we have a lot of work to do!” Max yells, before striding towards the bathroom to take a shower. Two weeks go by and the proposal is ready. Max calls you from the company car, on the way to your house to pick you up before the big investors meeting. “I’ll be right outside your place in a few minutes my sweet” He coos, beaming with excitement to see you. As his car pulls up, you collect your compendium, presentation cards and your pointer rod. Struggling with all you have to carry, Alfred rushes out of the car and up the steps to the front door, collecting all of your belongings.

Maxwell peers over the top of his shades but the sun from behind your house blinds him. He shuffles across the seat and opens the car door, the sun now hiding from his view. As he removes his shades and looks up the stairs towards your front door, he sees you standing there, fixing your outfit. He’s stunned.

It might be 1984, but you’re wearing a stunning outfit pulled straight from the 50s. A black suit dress with a pleat in the front with a thin gold belt around your waist. You accented the look with strap Mary jane heels, a black and gold handbag and a neat beret fascinator. Your hair was curled, accentuated with bright red lipstick and a single set of pearl earrings.

Max looks like he’s about to drop to his knees in awe, but his knees bend into a lengthy stride up the stairs, rushing to your side. “A heavenly vision of beauty'' Max gasps, giving you a kiss on the cheek in an attempt to preserve your makeup. He puts out his arm and you wrap your hands around it, as he leads you down your stairs to the car, staring at you the whole time, letting the universe guide his steps as this absolute goddess graces his presence. You both slide into the back seat of Max’s company car, his large hand immediately passing along your back and resting on your hip and ass, pulling you as close to him as possible. “I dont know how this presentation is going to go, but I can be absolutely certain that myself and every other person in that room will be enraptured by your presence”. he murmurs into your neck, squeezing your ass.

Max was wearing a pinstripe royal blue suit with black laced oxfords. His matching tie and pocket square peeking out. “I would kiss you right now but i don't want to get lipstick on your face just before our meeting” you blush, rubbing your nose against his. “I know. We have all the time in the world after” Max replies, running his nose down your neck, breathing gently against your skin.

“We should probably prepare for the meeting, Max” you chuckle, seeing the office building not far up the road. You pull out your compendium and flip to an architectural blueprint of the office floor.

“I had this drawn up by an architectural drafter last week. As you can see the large blank space is your office and private room, you already have the glass frosted for privacy. All the other office cubicles will be converted to private offices, as well as boardrooms, co-working areas and remote working hot spots.” Max’s eyes widen with surprise at the level of detail. “How did you get this done? I certainly don't remember commissioning this'' rubbing his chin. “I paid for it” you respond, nonchalantly. “You spent your money, for me?” Max inquires, now in disbelief. “Of course. I told you I would help you, Max. Consider it an investment”. You wink, flipping through more pages of the presentation. Just when Max thought he couldn't fall more in love with you than he already has, your hard work and giving nature makes his heart swell even larger to make room. After a few minutes the car pulls up to the investor’s office building. “Before we go in there, I want to ask you something.” Your eyes widen with intrigue. “While we're there, I’m not sure how these businessmen will react to a woman being anything more than my personal assistant. I’m not intimidated by you at all, but I suspect some of them might be” He continues, his eyes falling to your lap as he holds your hands. “Max, this project is my dream, but it’s your company, so i’m giving it to you to present. You’re the only person I trust with this”.

As Maxwell begins to get himself together, you take a seat adjacent to where Max is standing. Although your knees are together with one ankle behind the other, you can feel some of the businessmen closest to you looking you up and down like a piece of meat. You quickly turn to face Max, giving him your undivided attention. “Well, I know you’re all very busy, so lets get started” Max smiles, wringing his palms together. The businessmen listen intently to Max’s pitch for the restructure of Black Gold corporation, before they begin to ask questions on financials. You begin to notice the men losing interest and Max starting to lose his confidence. He looks at you, his expression half pleading and half embarrassed. Without any hesitation, you stand up from your chair, striding over to Max’s side, picking up the pointing rod from the easel and pulling it to full length with one swift pull.

The men all sit upright at attention from the sound of the rod. “If I may, Maxwell” you butt in, politely. “Gentleman” You steady the pointer rod against the chart on the easel “the profit figures on the project are as follows; 36 external view offices, charged at $3,000 per month each, generating $108,000 gross profit. The 25 internal offices with no view will be $500 per month, generating $12,500. We also have hot-desks with memberships starting at $20 per month. If companies want us to answer their phones, do their mail, bring them coffee, do their shopping, take their dry-cleaning, walk their dogs or bring them lunch, that's an additional fee. Essentially, we are looking at a monthly profit turnover of $150,000+. Our current lease fee is $50,000 a month with about $15,000 in body corporate and utilities, leaving $85,000 per month net profit, $225 thousand per quarter and over a million annually. We currently are looking for a combined setup cost of around $500,000. The more you invest, the bigger your return.” You swing the pointer road and rest it on your shoulder.

Silence fills the room and you panic. Your assertiveness may have turned them off, so you pretend to be ditzy and dip one of your feet inwards. The men who are all sitting up at attention, look between each other and nod. Your charm and business acumen seemed to have put them under some kind of spell. “Thanks for your time gentleman. If you have any questions please feel free to call” you finish, walking around to hand each of them Max’s business card. The men begin to chat amongst themselves, before one of them approaches Maxwell. They introduce themselves and begin chatting about the pitch “You should be very proud of your assistant Maxwell” they chuckle “she seems very switched on and driven”. Max shoots you a smiling glance, before turning back “Yeah, I’m actually going to make her the CFO” he responds. “Well, we’ll deliberate here and be back in touch with our offer”. The meeting finally wraps up and you both head back downstairs where Alfred is waiting with the car door already open. You both slide inside and Max wraps his arms around you before passionately kissing your lips as the car drives back to his office.

“You want to make me the.. CFO?” you pant, breaking from the kiss. “Yes” Max smiles, staring into your eyes. “You have worked so hard and today at the presentation..I know you’re the woman for the job. Do you want it?” You blush, holding his face “Well how can I say no?”. The company car finally pulls up back at the office and you both head through the lobby and into the lift. Max stands behind you with his arms wrapped around you and his head on your shoulder, talking about the enormous amount of work that will potentially need to be done if this deal goes through. As the lift doors open into the reception area, you both step out and Max hears the phone in his office start to ring. You give him an excited smile, encouraging him to go take the call in private. He begins striding through the empty office before making it to his office, pushing the doors open and heading over to his desk.

You take your time walking back to his office, giving Max time to finish his phone call. As you approach his office doors, you hear the click of the receiver as he hangs up. You watch Max’s shadow behind the frosted glass walk up to the doors and swing them open, a neutral look on his face. You look puzzled, thinking it was bad news before he burst out laughing with a smile, swinging you over his shoulder and carrying you to his bedroom. “You did it baby!” He yells, slapping your backside before throwing you both down onto the bed. “We did!?” you scream, a wave of relief and excitement washing over you. “Yes! I’m so proud of you. You saved Black Gold corporation. You saved me.” Max smiles, brushing a lock of curls away from your face before cupping your cheek and passionately kissing you.

You kick off your shoes, belt and take off your beret fascinator as Max removes his suit jacket, suspenders and belt, before kissing each other again. “I was so turned on by you today” Max moans, writhing his hands all over your body, before ripping the bust of your dress open, the two buttons pinging off onto the carpet. “Watching your voluptuous ass in that dress walking into that boardroom and how you commanded the room’s attention, took control and sealed the deal. I wanted to put you over that boardroom table and worship you like the goddess you are. But I guess I can do that now”. Something about wearing your favourite suit of his, the unwavering progressive support of women and eagerness to pleasure you unlocks your most ravenous sexual desires. You stop Max, sitting up at the foot of the bed. He gets up from laying down and looks at you, worried he said or did something wrong. “Whats wrong my love?” he asks, looking concerned. ****MAJOR SMUT WARNING AHEAD**** “Max… you’ve shown me the romantic love making version which was so beautiful, but I want to make you feel worshipped” Max gives you an interesting glance. “You’re such a giving person but I want to give back. You’ve suffered neglect and mistreatment most of your life. I want to give you a different kind of passionate sex. I have fantasies and wild ideas that I think will give you immense pleasure. I want you to….” You stop yourself, not sure how he will react. Max's eyes widened with intrigue. “Go on?” Max squeezes your hand. “Well” you begin. The passionate fire is burning hotter and hotter within you. “I want you…” you hitch up your skirt and sit across Max’s lap, with one leg over each side “to straddle my chest and fuck my throat while I rub my clit” you get closer to Max’s face, pulling on his tie “And I want to cum while you’re throat fucking and choking me with your cock” you begin to undo his tie “And then I want you to cum in the back of my throat and make me swallow it”. There’s dead silence, so you bat your eyelash extensions, throwing a sexy yet innocent gaze followed by “hmmm?”. Max’s mind goes completely blank, the blood rushing from every inch of his body straight to his cock, which you feel hardened against your crotch as you straddle him. “Uhh wow honey that sounds very dangerous.” Max chokes, embarrassed he's getting turned on at the idea of hurting you.

“For you or me?” You giggle, biting your lip. “For you” Max says, wrapping his arms around you. “Are you sure that’s something you want me to do to you Hermosa?”. “Yes Maxwell. I love the way you worship and pleasure me, but I want you to feel the same way. I have a kink when it comes to being dominated. Seeing my man so turned on and using his strength and body to please himself using me, makes me feel incredible. I know you would never hurt me, it’s something I would love for you to experience” You answer before kissing his neck. “You really are too good to me, princessa” Max sighs, running his hands down your back to your ass, squeezing both cheeks. “Of course, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, Max” you give him a reassuring look, worried you might have overstepped. “No baby, I’d love to, if that’s what will bring you the most pleasure” He coos, kissing your neck.

You begin to take off your dress, revealing under a black and gold laced lingerie set. “Black and Gold” you chuckle, watching Max’s eyes widen at the level of detail. “How did I get so lucky?” Max pants, pulling off his shirt and pants, leaving his boxers to contain his rock hard cock. You go to reach for Max’s crotch when his hand stops you. “Before we do this” Max begins “I want you to stop me at any time if it hurts or you can’t breathe or you just don’t want to do it anymore. That is the most important thing to me”. You nod and smile at Max, leaning in to kiss him, before your hands start to remove his boxers.

You reach down and begin to tease his cock, tracing your fingers tips against the tip. With your other hand you guide Max’s hand down, placing it at the top of your panties. As he starts to put his hands under your panties, he notices there’s a hole in them. Max stops to inspect. “Crotchless panties? Me vuelves loco” Max pants before he begin kissing and biting all over your body.

You’re in for it now. Like a virus, you’ve taken over Max’s brain, flooding it with animalistic desire and passion. A switch has been flipped and hell bent on blowing your mind, leaving all of his inhibitions and reservations about what he’s about to do to you at the door. Max climbs on top of you, wrapping his large hand around your throat, gently squeezing as you gasp for air. “Is this what you want?” He growls into your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before kissing down your neck. You manage to nod before moaning, indicating that you’re enjoying it. He’s never treated a woman like this before, but he manages to find the personality and words seemingly from thin air, like it was repressed all this time. “Start touching yourself for me now” Max commands. You slide your hand down into your panties and start rubbing your clit, sparks flying through your body and the slick now leaking out of your pussy. He groans at the sight of you touching yourself. Max moves up the bed before straddling over your chest. With your head propped up on some pillows, you look in Max’s eyes and ready your mouth and jaw for his throbbing cock. Max thumbs your bottom lip before grabbing just under your jaw to keep your face steady. “Open wide like the good little whore that you are” he hisses, smacking the tip of his precum soaked cock on your face.

The degrading name only makes you wetter, as you furiously rub your clitoris whilst pinned under Max’s legs. You moan as Max pushes his cock into your mouth and down your throat. “Oh my god my love your mouth feels incredible” Max moans, his character from before severely altered by the pleasurable sensation. He realises his mistake and compensates by pushing his cock as far as it will fit into your mouth and throat. “That’s it, take it all” he smirks, exhaling with a moan. You use two fingers to scoop up some of your slick and rub it into your clitoris, which is now super sensitive. Your stifled moans humming against Max’s veiny cock cause it to twitch. With your hips bucking from pleasuring yourself, Max takes both of his hands and puts them on your cheeks. “Fuck your mouth feels so good” Max moans, slowly thrusting back and forth out of your mouth, his cock touching your uvula and causing you to gag with each stroke. Your eyes begin to roll back in your skull as you continue to moan & choke, your swollen clitoris edging closer and closer to orgasm. “You like this huh? You like it when Daddy fills your throat up and fucks it?” Max hisses, wrapping your hair in between his fingers, gripping hard as his thrusts gain more momentum. Thick strings of spit is now spilling out of your mouth, down your chin and onto your breasts. “You look

The taste of Max’s precum coating the back of your tongue. You’re fighting to contain your orgasm but Max’s cock and brutal punishing words are sending you dangerously close to the edge. “Mmmmm, mmmmm!” You choke, tears welling in your eyes as you’re trying to nod and send Max a pleasured innocent gaze, driving him wild. You concentrate on breathing through your nose, each time Max’s cock leaves the back of your throat for a split second, giving you enough time to take in air. You decide to start moving your flattened tongue against the shaft, rubbing against the tip as it passes back and forth. Max let’s out a groan “You’re such a good little putá for papá”. There’s no holding back now, you increase your moans to signal that you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. “Cum for me” Max hisses, continuing the ecstasy inducing tempo of thrusts into your mouth and throat. You continue to rub your clit and gesture for Max to keep his cock still inside your mouth and throat for this moment, riding the crashing wave of your orgasm, squirting furiously onto your legs and sheets below. The writhing and shaking of your body underneath him, the sound of your squirting and muffled cries and moans from behind his cock is too much and brings him closer much faster than he ever anticipated. The eye-watering sensation causes the tears to flow down your cheeks, causing your mascara to run.

As your orgasm begins to subside you gesture for Max to continue thrusting, which he does as he moves his large hands to cup your face. “That felt fucking amazing” Max moans, continuing his fast and hard strokes. Your gaze, burning with passion and framed within smudged running eyeliner locks with Max’s, his domineering yet still showing affection. “I’m gonna cum” Max pants, keeping the pace as his grip on your face grows tighter. “Fuckkkk!!!” He shouts, holding your head still as he holds one final thrust as far in as it will go. Your eyes roll back into your head again as you feel the warm thick ropes of cum spurt onto the back of your throat. It was lucky you had taken a large enough breath before that moment, enough to sustain you for the few seconds Max held his cock still inside your mouth, throbbing and pulsing as he moans and shudders, cursing in Spanish. Coming back to reality, Max immediately pulls his softening cock from your mouth and wraps his large hands on the top and bottom of your face, closing your jaw shut. “Now Swallow” he commands, bending down so that his face inches from yours. With a cheeky gaze you oblige and swallow the remains of his cum tangled in your throat, before opening your jaw to allow him to inspect if there was any left. “My good little leche putá” he whispers, before spitting in your wide open mouth.

As if like breaking character on a movie set, Max immediately reverts back to his original self, climbing off to the side to lay next to you. “Was that good for you my love? How do you feel?” Max asks, worried he’s harmed your physical and mental state. “Incredible” you pant, smiling, lying in a pool of your own squirt. Breathing a sigh of relief, Max quickly brings up the blankets to cover you both, embracing you and peppering your spit, mascara and tear soaked face with kisses. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Max quizzes, checking your chest and throat over. “No” you reply, your throat somewhat hoarse. “Okay good. I love you so much” Max sighs, brushing your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead. “I love you too, Max”.

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I got impatient and wanted to post it now so I guess this chapter is finished 💀

@anaaaispunk @mandoalorian @pintsizemama

#maxwell lord #max lord #max lord x reader #max lord x you #max lord smut #maxwell lord smut #max lord x f!reader #maxwell lord x f!reader #javier pena #pedro pascal

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softyoongiionly · 4 years ago

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Portraits of a Tiger|| 01

Legends of a great and equally terrifying warrior nicknamed the Tiger have been emerging from your fellow villagers for quite sometime. Stories of his skill, his stealth and his supposed wickedness have been passed around to the point where he is more prophecy than person. You have lived your life with a strong sense of conviction, rarely letting gossip influence your opinion. However, you would be lying if you said that his legacy didn’t intrigue you. When the Tiger and his infamous army arrive in your village to refuel, you come face to face with the man behind the myth.

And no amount of marketplace gossip would ever be enough to capture the true complexity of his nature.

Pairing: Merchant! Reader x Warrior! Yoongi

Genre: Adventure, Romance, Smut (later), Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: language, depictions of violence both verbal and physical however they are fairly mild, mentions of war and power dynamics, there will be smut in future parts so, (18+ only please).

Current Tag List: @bulletproofbirdy @gldnrecs @naajix @bluewhale52 @nikkikenji @lustedkisses

A/N: oh okayyyyy HELLO!!! Its here!!! Warrior! Yoongi is finally emerging from the depths of my writer blocked brain and I am SO happy you get to meet him. Once again, this series will be posted in parts just as Mama Mia! is and it may not necessarily follow a linear timeline.

Also, I know I mentioned her in the tag list post but, SERIOUSLY you guys this story would not be possible without my wonderful friend @bulletbroofbirdy aka Rachel who has literally spent so much time dreaming up with wonderful universe with me. My sweet angel, you are the greatest in the world and I love you. Please go follow Rachel and send her all the love in the universe and thank her for her genius brain because, without her, this fic wouldn’t exist.

War.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence where you’re from.

The ever-present shifting of the borderlines is a constant reminder of the struggle for power.

Many see it as a valiant effort, a noble cause...

But, war is something that doesn’t appeal to you.

It doesn’t sit right with your perspective on the world.

Sure, you understand it’s strengths and why it could be seen as necessary.

However, the consequences of war, of violence- never seem to be worth it.

Death.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence where you’re from.

When war is constantly raging on the background, it should be expected.

It should be normal.

To most of your district, it is.

To you?

Every single rise in the death toll sends icy despair into your heart.

Every drop of blood spilled feels as though it’s your own.

You’re desperate to find the solution for peace but, you know it’s not that simple.

Man is never content.

The struggle for power is never ending.

As you grow up, you learn to adapt.

Learning a trade is the easiest way to establish yourself so, you take up knitting and medicine.

You sell your wears and remedies in the market every other day and spend your off days replenishing the stock that you sold.

Your parents live comfortably but in order for them to do so, you’re in the market for hours on end.

Today starts as any other.

You’re gathering your wears in your family’s home as the sun is beginning to peak over the mountains.

The colors it throws through your window are breathtaking and, if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d be able to enjoy them a bit more.

Thankfully, your preparations don’t wake your parents as they sleep soundly in their bed.

You wish for nothing more than for them to be at peace every chance they get.

They have sacrificed so much.

The market displays its usual scenery.

The fishermen are always first setting up their catches from the evening prior, the butchers are hanging up their kills from the overnight hunt whilst the farmers arrange seasonal produce on their carts...

You always have your cart near the end of the market.

It’s easier for people to think about softer things such as knitted blankets or healing elixirs once they’ve purchased their food.

Thankfully, business is decent.

Your wares are well-made and your elixirs have an exceptional success rate.

The prices are fair so you attract all walks of life but, you focus more on serving the lower class folk such as yourself.

One of the fisherman, who you’ve grown acquainted with over the last few months, nods to your cart as you’re setting it up.

“What do you have today __?”

With a smile, you hold up a mauve woolen blanket which you’ve spent nearly two weeks on.

“This is the item of the day. I used a root dye to get the color- what do you think?”

He purses his lips, nodding in consideration, “I’m sure someone will snag that right away. It looks warm. It will be very useful over the next few months. Do you have any of that uh- “ Lowering his voice, he cranes his neck to assess whether or not any of his team can hear him, “ginseng mixture that you sold to me last week?”

You bite back a smirk as you nod towards the woven basket containing your various medicines, “I do. I made a new batch last night. Did you need some?”

A rapid nod is sent your way along with a handful of coins, “Thanks. It worked wonders last time. My wife sends her gratitude.”

Your cheeks heat up immediately but given that you’ve heard worse things in the market place, you merely giggle and file your payment away.

Ginseng is a natural stimulant that you often recommend to men experiencing issues with sex or fertility. Whilst you completely stand by its effectiveness, you won’t deny that it’s slightly awkward working with the men you’ve helped. Especially since they often insist on loudly announcing how many times they had sex the night before.

The rest of the setup goes smoothly and by the time the sun fully takes its place in the sky, you are ready for the market to open.

As your adjusting the sign on the front of your cart, you hear an interesting bout of conversation ignite in front of you

“Did you hear? The Royal Army is arriving today to refuel.”

“You’re lying. Are you serious? Do they- do you think they have him with them?”

“Of course! They aren’t stupid enough to travel without him. They’d be ambushed immediately.”

“Yah, what are you talking about?”

“The Tiger. He’s coming through town today.”

Instantly, your heart stalls in your chest.

You try your best to appear unbothered but, it doesn’t stop the panic from seeping into your bones.

The Tiger and the fleet of warriors he oversees are well-known in your village.

Word of mouth is truly a powerful mechanism for spreading information and, stories of The Tiger had been circulating for quite sometime.

They started out simply depicting a powerful new recruit into the Royal Army.

Despite his initial inexperience, The Tiger quickly rose through the ranks due to his otherworldly fighting skills.

According to the rumors, The Tiger was known for his silent destruction.

By the time his enemies could grasp what was happening, The Tiger and his men had already completed their mission.

They had already killed, maimed or destroyed whatever they were after.

A recent success had led to The Tiger becoming the General of the largest fleet in the Royal Army.

From what you had gathered, he wasn’t much older than you so the fact that he essentially lead an entire army is quite impressive.

However, given the stories of his cruel and cold blooded nature, it makes a lot of sense.

“I heard he beheads the enemy general on the battlefield after he wins...”

“I heard he killed 3,000 men all on his own in the middle of a thunderstorm!”

“I heard he keeps a viper on him at all times and he sets it loose on anyone he disobeys him!”

“I heard that he never sleeps.”

“Do you think he’ll come here? Would he be seen out in public like that?”

“Why wouldn’t he? He has nothing to fear, there isn’t a single soul in this village who could take him on.”

“Plus, he never travels alone. He’ll have his men with him.”

With a snort, you continue displaying your cart as normal and, only then do you realize that you stand out amongst the other merchants.

Every single one of them has an offering for the warriors.

It’s not customary to do so and, you’re only viable guess is that it has something to do with the market fawning over this tiger character.

“Were we supposed to put something out?” You murmur to the woman beside you, brows knitting in confusion.

She chuckles heartily, “When a normal fleet enters, no. We usually just offer them food and the resources we can spare.” A bit of excitement flashes through her eyes as she adjust the basket of radishes on her cart, “However, this is no ordinary fleet. I suggest you put something out too dear, that pretty face of yours could land you husband on the Tiger’s army, any one of his men would be a worthy mate. They aren’t shooting blanks like my husband over here!”

Her body jostles with laughter as she shoves her hand up against the man beside her, who looks whole-heartedly unamused.

“Jane, please...” He grumbles

You can’t help the grimace that comes across your face when Jane mentions finding a husband but, it’s quickly replaced with a mixture of amusement and sympathy.

“I have something for that.” You offer in a hushed tone and, the man seems to unfurl from his submissive position as he offers a meek smile.

“You do?”

You don’t have time to answer him before the mood of the market shifts into quiet chaos.

“I think they’re coming!” The fisherman whispers frantically, adjusting the sign on his cart for the millionth time.

As much you hate to give in to the hype, you feel compelled to go with the flow and, put something out for the warriors.

You settle on a basket of your most popular anti-inflammatory ailment that’s proven to be quite effective amongst your customers.

The long strips of white wood are haphazardly placed into a woven basket as you brace your ears for the piercing sound of trumpets.

Magnificent as the musicians in your village are, the blaring cacophony of noise is far from something you wish to be apart of this early in the morning.

However, the noise never comes.

The gates open up as normal as a reasonable size crowd begins meandering throughout the market.

You turn towards Jane with confusion painting your features, “Where’s the music?”

Jane is adjusting her radishes once again, glancing eagerly towards the crowd of people, “The Tiger does not allow fanfare of any kind. A far away village defied his orders once and played for him and his fleet anyway and- well...” She smirks bemusedly, “it didn’t end well for them, so we respect his wishes.”

Your eyes widen at that as you nod, swallowing back any fear that threatens to crawl up your throat.

“Got it.”

The usual slew of customers begin filing in and as business begins to pick up, you slowly forget about the famous warriors that were to enter.

Roughly, an hour later, your basket of willow bark remains untouched and, you begin to consider putting it back in its normal place. This particular bark is quite annoying to obtain and you don’t feel great about giving it away to some warrior after you’ve spent hours trying to procure it.

However, as you glance at other offering baskets, you notice that some of them have been emptied.

This means of course that either your fellow merchants put their offerings away or, the warriors are already in the market.

A strange and unsettling feeling washes over you at the thought of deadly warriors perusing throughout town. You expected that they would be recognizable, especially given their reputation but, nothing seems to give away their presence.

As a paying customer leaves your cart with an armful of various items, you notice something that normally doesn’t garner your attention: hair.

You see it amongst the crowd, peeking over the tops of heads.

It’s a shimmering icy platinum and it’s tied up atop a strangers head with a beaded string. It moves throughout the crowd slowly, stopping at various points, likely exchanging words with another merchant before you finally make out the face it belongs to.

A man dressed in cotton linens maneuvers out of the crowd, dark eyes scanning his surroundings almost anxiously. As he moves closer to you, you’re able to fully take in his features.

Pointed and smooth, his face is the epitome of contradiction.

Deep brown eyes, rounded button-nose, pouty lips and strong eyebrows adorn his face whilst his rather large hand flexes instinctually towards the object hanging off of his hips.

It’s a sword.

This man certainly isn’t a civilian.

Unfortunately, you’re unable to ignore the beauty he possesses. He is quite ethereal once you get a closer look at him; you don’t think you’ve ever seen another person that looks quite like him.

As he speaks with the fisherman, your ears perk up to in an attempt to hear the sound of his voice.

Faintly, you can discern a bit of rasp and calculation in his tone but, you aren’t able to absorb it over the sound of the market.

Its then you realize that you’ve been staring at this stranger for far too long and, if you’re ever going to meet your quota today, you need to avoid distractions.

You sell another one of your blanket moments later, increasing your daily total by a reasonable amount. Making blankets is enjoyable yes but, it’s extremely time consuming so it feels good when someone rewards you for your hard work.

“Please have some radishes! They’re grown in top soil from the northern region! It gives them a certain uh- “ Jane’s shrill voice pulls your attention towards her cart which now brandishes a new visitor: the stranger with the blonde hair.

You're realizing that Jane is pausing mid-sentence because, she is desperately looking to you for answers.

You've assisted Jane with her produce before as she was having trouble with the flavor of some of her vegetables. This was mainly due to the fact that she had been using the wrong kind of fertilizer but, you had also given her several tips to improve the overall taste of her produce.

“A certain crunch...” You finish for her, stabilizing your tone as you brave a glance towards the man. “The mixture of the soils helps with the texture.”

His feline gaze rushes towards you at the sound of your voice, as if he wasn’t expecting you to speak.

At the sight of you, his lips part momentarily before quickly sealing in a tight lipped smile which directs toward Jane.

“Thank you.” He nods toward her as he takes one of the radishes and tucks it into the pocket of his linen pants.

“Of course! Um thank you- sir for your...services...” She stutters and it’s then you notice that she hasn’t made eye contact throughout the entirety of their conversation.

A bit of discomfort flashes through his eyes but otherwise, he merely grunts in acknowledgement.

Jane’s comment is the last bit of confirmation you need that this man is indeed a warrior.

However, his reaction to her words strikes you as odd. Warriors rarely shy away from gratitude. They are often proud and boastful regarding their positions but, he seems to be bothered by what she said.

The man never looks back at Jane as he makes his way to the next cart. Every so often, you notice him looking over his shoulder or glancing towards the entrances/exits of the market. His presence doesn’t necessarily make you uneasy but, his behavior sure does.

He acts as though he is in danger.

It puts you on edge but, you direct your attention back to the customer in front of you.

“Good morning.” You smile, “Anything catch your eye?”

The man cards a hand through his salt and pepper hair as he leans over your cart, eagerly scanning the items you have on display.

“Eh do you have anything for dry skin? With winter around the corner, I gotta start thinking about this old skin of mine. The wind does a lot of damage on my knuckles.”

“You know what? I think I have just the thing...” You bend down to access the crate beneath your counter and grab a medium sized glass bottle, “This is an olive oil and honey treatment, it will treat dry skin immediately but, it’s meant to treat dry skin over a longer period of time too. I also-” You bend down once more to grab a tin of cocoa butter and place it on the counter top, “have this. This should help with daily wear and tear. You only need a little bit so this tin should last you through the winter.”

The man smiles eagerly and quickly reaches for his pockets before he freezes. You don’t notice until you look up from your counter but, the platinum haired warrior is back and, he’s standing right behind your customer.

“O-Oh go ahead, go ahead. I uh- I'll go next...” The man stutters, gesturing frantically to your cart.

With a quirked brow the warrior moves to step in front of him until you raise your hand.

“No sir, it’s ok. You’re in the middle of a transaction.” You insist, eyeing the warrior sternly, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The immediate crowd surrounding your cart seems to pause, nervously glancing towards the warrior who merely nods and steps back into place.

The shock is apparent on the faces of the crowd but you ignore it and send a reassuring smile towards your customer, “Ok, that will be 11.50 and-” You slide a bundle of rosemary towards him, “take this too, on the house. Brew it in some hot water to aid digestion, winter food tends to be a bit harsher on the system.”

The man swallows nervously, dragging his items toward his chest, “Thank you—uh so much. Thank you.” He turns towards the warrior, directing his gaze towards his feet as he bows his head, “Thank you for your service...”

The man doesn’t allow the warrior time to respond before he rushes off back into the crowd but, you get the feeling that it wouldn’t matter regardless.

The warrior doesn’t seem interested in anyone’s gratitude.

“Let me know if you have any questions.” You nod your head towards him, pushing the basket with your offering towards the edge of the counter before busying yourself with putting a few things back in their place.

He says nothing but, he approaches the counter whilst his eyes shrewdly observe the ins and outs of your set up.

He’s even more striking up close. His smooth, tan skin is mostly unmarked except for the giant scar running down the center of his right eye. It goes up the center of his eyelid and disappears right above the center of his brow. It’s still red and angrily risen against his otherwise angelic looking face.

A warrior indeed.

The bit of people around your cart haven’t stopped their staring but, they are at least making an attempt to look like they aren’t paying attention. It doesn’t stop you from wishing that you didn’t have an audience.

“Tree bark?” He questions with an arch to his brow

You look towards the basket he’s gesturing to before returning your gaze back to his.

“White willow bark.” You correct, almost defensively and it cause his lips to twitch.

“Is this some kind of decoration?”

You shake your head, placing your fingers on the edge of the basket, “No. It’s meant to be chewed. It reduces inflammation. I figured it would be useful since I imagine you deal with muscle soreness quite often.”

He smirks, “Amongst other things yes,” With long elegant fingers, he points to the basket, “So- if I chew on this, I should feel relief from any pain I might be experiencing?”

An all too rapid nod comes from you as you continue your explanation, “Well it’s mainly used to treat pain in your muscles and joints. If you’re looking to treat other types of pain, I have other options...”

He shakes his head, his hair swishing to the side as he does, “This should do, thank you.”

You suspect that he’s done, given that the bark is (annoyingly) free and he’s only seemed to be interested in the offerings thus far so, he surprises you when he asks yet another question.

“Do you have any more of that salve?”

“Of course,” You offer him a smile now that the initial tension is starting to lift, “Did you want a big tin or small tin?”

He purses his lips in thought, looking towards his hands, “What do you recommend?”

Without a second thought, you step towards him and take one of his hands, bringing it closer to your face for inspection.

The man seems to freeze in place, eyes widening in absolute shock, his own limb betraying him as it goes limp.

His hand displays evidence of the life he lives.

Rough, calloused and blistered...

His nails are bitten down to a point that almost looks painful but, the thing that stands out the most is how beautiful his hand is to you.

The strength in his skin is palpable and the indigo veins protruding against his hand are a firm reminder of what he is likely capable of.

What you don’t notice however, is the utter panic that flushes across his face or the way his eyes dart nervously between you and his hand.

Just as you would during any consultation, you briefly run your fingers over the palm of his hand and up the length of each of his fingers

“Hmm I would recommend the big tin, I think...you have a lot of rough spots but the skin between your callouses is quite smooth so,” You carefully set his hand back onto the counter and return your eyes back to his, “what that tells me is that your skin is roughened by your environment rather than by an actual lack of moisture.” You slide the big tin towards him, “Apply this to the dryer areas as needed throughout the day but, every night before you go to bed, make sure to put this on. Sleeping with it will allow it to seep into your skin and heal the dryness over time.”

The warrior’s eyes are transfixed on you and for a moment he is completely speechless, his hand lingering on the counter before hurriedly places them back at his side.

He can’t understand you and why you just touched him.

But what’s worse, is he can’t understand why his mouth is suddenly dry.

Or why his skin is on fire...

Or why his heart is thrashing around in his chest.

He clears his throat and nods, “Very good. I’ll be sure to follow your instructions.” He sticks the hand you didn’t touch into his pocket, fishing around for something, “What’s my total?”

“That will be 3.50.” You say with a smile, holding out your hand.

He dispenses his payment into your palm before stowing his items away in his free pocket.

“Thank you.” He grunts, the hand you touched still kind of awkwardly lingering away from his body.

Was he going to wash it as soon as he got the chance?

Did you smell weird?

“Of course, have a nice day. Safe travels.” With a wave, you send him off, missing the small smile that momentarily appears on his face.

You’re genuinely relieved that the encounter is over but, you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t intrigue you.

Before you’re able to get your bearings and move on, Jane is rushing over to you frantically.

“What on Earth was that??? Do you know him??? Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?!” She swats your arm, her eyes wide with incredulity.

“Ow!” You grip your arm, “What are you talking about?”

The man has already disappeared back into the crowd but, you’re still attempting to keep your voice at a reasonable level.

Jane does not follow suit.

“You just put your hands on the Tiger!” Jane shrieks causing you to recoil in response, “He could kill you for that! What were you thinking?”

“He’s going to kill me because I touched his hand?” Your brow arches in amusement, as your lips threaten to smile, “I had no idea who he was Jane, I was just helping a paying customer.”

She doesn’t like your answer and quickly swats your arm again, “Y/N this is not a joke! He’s a dangerous man. I nearly fainted when you looked him in his eyes but, then you touched him and-”

“Jane, that’s enough.” The fisherman hisses, gesturing wildly to the crowd of people, “You’re making a scene and he’s still out here somewhere.”

She huffs her hands rushing to smooth out the apron over her dress before rushing a finger into your face, “You won’t be laughing if he shows up at your house with a sword in your face. You need to be careful.”

You smirk at this but otherwise comply, not wishing to fire her up any further, “Thank you for your concern Jane, I’ll make sure to carry my sword around too, you know, just in case.”

Jane snorts then and rolls her eyes, scurrying back to her cart and mumbling something along the lines of:

“That mouth is going to get you killed...”

You can’t help but giggle.

There’s no doubt that the man you just spoke to was a warrior and, maybe he was some almighty warrior but he other than an intense staring problem, he didn’t scare you at all.

Thankfully, business is booming for the remainder of the day and although you’re thrilled at the money you’ll be taking home, you aren’t looking forward to all the replenishing you have to do.

The last order of business before heading home is picking a few things for your parents and grabbing the last of the steamed buns for your best friend.

Rachel has lived beside you ever since you can remember. The two of you spent most of your childhood running around the village, causing mini bouts of chaos everywhere you went. Despite the challenges life had brought the both of you, you grew together rather than apart.

Rachel is the village’s most treasured teacher and she’s been running the school for the past few years. She’s kind of the best and, you have a feeling she’ll be interested to hear about the rather interesting events that had transpired over the course of your day.

As you turn down the dirt path towards her home, you start to wonder where the Tiger and his fleet would be staying.

Your village wasn’t run-down but it wasn’t exactly luxurious by any standards.

The rubble near the beginning of the street along with the various empty wooden barrels doesn’t exactly count as décor and, the occasional drunken argument outside the village’s tavern certainly doesn’t add any class to the area but, its home.

Rachel's house is easy to spot amongst the rest of the street as it’s the only one completely covered in plants.

She’s had a love of greenery for quite sometime and, it’s amongst the many things you two bond over.

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you immediately reach for the handle and use all your weight to shove the front door open.

Rachel is sitting on her sofa and despite the fact that she was expecting you, she still jumps at the sound.

“Oh my goodness!” She exclaims “Have you ever heard of knocking???”

You giggle but otherwise ignore her and lean against the door dramatically, “Rachel, you better get one last look at me because, this might be the last time you ever see me.”

She laughs lightly and folds her arms, “What did you do this time? Did you call the apothecary a fraud again?” Wiggling her fingers, she reaches out for the snacks your holding.

“Ok first of all, he is a fraud but no....it’s much much worse.” You shove the snacks into her awaiting hands before flopping down on the armchair, “I touched a man’s hand...”

She freezes, the bun lingering near her mouth, “Alright, now I am officially curious, why is hand touching worse?”

You smirk, “I touched...the Tiger’s hand” You point a finger at her quickly as her lips part, “Before you even make the joke, no it wasn’t a real tiger...it was THE tiger.”

Rachel snorts with laughter before going wide-eyed in shock, “You...wha--the Tiger? THE Tiger??? You TOUCHED the Tiger?!!?!? What were you thinking?!? Oh my god, did he bite? Wait, focus, Rachel---Why did you touch the Tiger?!?”

Whilst she’s rambling on you burst out in a fit of giggles, snuggling back against the chair, “He came to my cart looking for a good salve for his hands. All I did was do an assessment as I normally do to see what he needed. I don’t understand why everyone is freaking out...he seemed pretty harmless to me.”

She leans forward on the couch, “Harmless? He seemed...harmless?!?” She whispers frantically, “He has personally slain hundreds of men with those very hands!!!

“Why are we whispering?...”

Rachel returns to normal volume, rolling her eyes “Fine. More like thousands if you count how many his army has obliterated. And you just pawed at him--are you insane? He has killed people for less! At least that’s what the rumors say.”

You keep giggling, completely unfazed as you make yourself at home, “The rumors also say that he killed an entire village because they played their trumpets for him. I don’t know how credible these rumors are.”

“Well....what was he like then? You cannot drop this information on me and not give me every detail.” She insists, gesturing wildly at you before leaning back and sipping from her mug.

“Uh he was fine. I mean- he was normal I guess, I don’t know. He has really long hair, its blonde- like really blonde. He looks young, way younger than I thought he’d be. He has a big scar over his eye. Jane was practically drooling over him...”

Realization crosses Rachel’s face as she watches you intently. She relaxes back into her chair as a knowing smile spreads across her face, “Ohhhh young, blonde, mysterious...Jane must really HAVE been drooling. Seems like she’s not the only one, though...”

“I mean- the fisherman guys were pretty excited too I guess. I don’t know what the big deal is honestly, I know he’s supposed to be good on the battlefield but they were treating him like he was some kind of king or something.” You narrow your eyes “Are you suggesting I was drooling over him? Because I definitely wasn’t...I even told him to wait his turn in line.” You insist, shifting around on the chair.

Rachel crosses her legs dramatically, steeping her fingers as she observes you, “Was that before or after you found out he was handsome? Hmm?” She smirks again, holding her hands up innocently, “I am implying nothing, I am just NOTICING that you are definitely affected by him. I haven’t seen you impressed by....well, anyone.”

She’s not wrong.

“Hey hey whoa...who said anything about impressed?? I’m not impressed. I’m not impressed at all.”

Rachel eyes you suspiciously”...right...not impressed at all. Well, did you at least hear anything about them? Any word on how long the army will be here? We’ve got to be the safest village in the country as long as they are in town.” Suddenly, she facepalms in realization, “My students will be so distracted as long as they are here.”

“Not impressed. He’s just a man with a scar and sword...” You insist, twiddling your thumbs “I guess they are just refueling, I’m not sure how long they will be here. Jane told me I need to watch my back so, hopefully not for long...” You giggle again, thinking of how excited the schoolchildren will be now that the legendary Tiger is in town, “maybe you can make an assignment out of it...”

She stares off into space for a moment and mutters, “that’s not a bad idea...we could get outside, maybe a soldier could come speak to them? There’s got to be at least one that’s not terrifying?...” Rachel shakes her head, unimpressed with your lack of understanding, “Just a man with a scar and sword—he is the most feared military leader of our generation! And I wouldn’t worry TOO much about watching your back. After all—none of the legends involve the Tiger killing civilians, do they? At the very least his presence here means good business for the village. If you can get the Tiger as a repeat customer I can only imagine the profits you’ll turn at that little stall!” She muses, laugh heartily, “Buy the salve that soothed a beast! I can hear the gossip already...”

You point a finger at her, “I like the way you think. If you ever want to stop educating and enriching the minds of our youth and be my business partner, let me know...” Suddenly the humor within you dissipates as the reality of your situation seems to sink in, “You don’t think I should be worried though right?”

Rachel lets out a short laugh, “Thanks for the offer...” She shakes her head, “As far as this Tiger business is concerned...I don’t think your safety is under any threat. How did he react when you touched him? Did he seem angry?”

“He just froze...” You recall, your eyes unfocusing slightly, “It was kind of weird honestly. I’ve never had anyone do that before. It’s pretty normal to get checked out during an apothecary visit. I guess I wasn’t supposed to look at him either but, how the hell am I supposed to do an exam if I can’t look at his face?”

“Hmmm...that is strange. I’ll be honest, I thought he would have scolded you or pulled away based on the stories. Unless...” Rachel slumps back against her sofa, her face relaxing into a smirk, “...he was just as surprised by you as you were of him.”

You wrinkle your nose, “Ew no. Definitely not.”

Rachel doesn’t look convinced but you continue nevertheless, suddenly wishing to change the subject.

“He looked nervous I guess- I don’t know. His hand just sort of hung there after I finished. Today was weird...anywayyy-” You nod to the dough between your palms, “How are the buns? Did anything interesting happen in the education world.”

“Oh three boys got in a worm eating contest and threw up on their practice parchment so I could go without that kind of interesting for awhile. The buns are transcendent as usual but you-” She narrows her eyes in your direction, “- are dodging. Why would a general be nervous around you hmm? You said he is young...is he also handsome?”

“Ah god I love kids...” You note with a giggle before shrugging, shrinking back into the chair, “I don’t know. Objectively he- he definitely wasn’t ugly.”

Rachel raises an eyebrow, “I sense there is more to it than that.”

“Fine. He was easily the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. There! Are you happy now?” You grumble before dramatically staring off into the distance, “Oh to be murdered by the most handsome man alive...how romantic.”

This prompts a twinkling bout of laughter from Rachel who has finally finished the first of her many snacks, “I can think of worse ends my friend. Perhaps that was your only interaction? I am sure he is busy making preparations; too busy to be executing smart-mouthed apothecaries. I wouldn’t fret too much Y/N.”

With you sigh, you accept her analysis, sending a nod her way, “You’re probably right and, that’s probably for the best.” Despite the conviction in your tone, you can feel the disappointment on your face, “Thank you for calling my mouth smart.” You smirk before nodding toward the door, “I should probably head home. My father has a nasty cough and I seriously doubt he’s taken the medicine I left for him.”

Meeting you at the door, Rachel pulls you in for a big hug, “The smartest mouth in town- that's why I keep you around. Give your father my love and tell him, if he gives you a hard time—I will find out!”

You laugh, hugging her tightly, “The second smartest mouth in town...” You insist, “let’s do the tavern this weekend please. The children have been taking all your time and I miss my best friend!”

“Of course! No pack of tiny ruffians can get between me and a night out.”

You pat her shoulder gently before stepping out of the doorframe, “That’s right.” You smile, thankful to have someone like her in your life, “love you, have a good night.”

“Good night, sleep tight...” She sings, slowly closing the door, “don’t let the Tiger bite!” She laughs wildly before slamming the door shut to prevent your retaliation.

She’s a menace.

The walk back home is pleasant, the fall breeze nips at your skin through your sweater but, it feels refreshing against your flushed cheeks.

Your parents are asleep by the time you return home.

It’s common for you to arrive well past their bedtime but, despite your lack of contact, they still manage to make you feel loved.

On the kitchen table sits bowl of stew and freshly baked bread, along with a new blanket for the winter.

Your mom makes a fresh one everywhere with thicker fabric to combat the icy freeze of the winter climate. The stew will be cold but, your heart will be warm and your stomach will be full.

In truth, these are the only things that matter to you.

Living simple certainly has it’s drawbacks but overall, you are comforted by it. Your parents raised you to be thankful for the things you have and to only set your sights on obtaining things that truly matter to you. It doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have goals but, your parents have always stressed that external success can be fickle and, material possessions only take you so far.

Being content is truly priceless and, you’re thankful they instilled these values into you.

Climbing into bed, you allow your mind to wander to the man you met today.

You couldn’t quite understand the legend behind him. Not to say that he wasn’t worthy of such folklore but, it’s more so that you didn’t exactly understand the warnings behind it.

He didn’t seem scary.

Although, it’s possible his demeanor is something he uses along with his beauty.

It could be that the Tiger lives up his animal comparison.

Beautiful and deadly.

Village gossip shouldn’t keep you awake longer than necessary, you think, it’s time to rest up so that tomorrow’s work day doesn’t feel like a never-ending task.

With the sound of the whistling wind just outside your home, you slowly close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

Your plan for a peaceful nights rest is completely demolished when you feel the frantic hands of your mother shaking you awake.

“Y/N! Wake up! Wake up! Raiders- they are raiders outside, hurry!” She drags the covers off of you, “We have to go!”

In a haphazard blur, you spring to your feet and arm yourself with a few important possessions and your sword.

Your parents tow behind you as you make your way out of your home.

The village is in utter chaos; shouting, clanking metal, screaming, amber flames peaking out from above the rooftops.

You grab your mothers arm, keeping her close to you as you try your best to follow procedures.

Like most smaller villages, your area is equipped with a protocol that will ensure the least amount of damage if there were to be an invasion.

Collect the essentials and gather your loved ones

Arm yourself

Make your way to the town square; there is strength in numbers.

Allow the raiders to take what they want (with the exception of human lives)

Negotiate

Simple in theory but, rarely in practice.

It’s difficult to keep up with a protocol during times of intense stress.

Amidst the chaos, you see Rachel scrambling out of her house, with a bag slung over her shoulder.

You cry out for her, desperately hoping she will hear your voice over the madness,

“Rachel! Over here!”

With wide eyes, she reaches out for your mother’s hand, bowing her head to shield from any possible debris.

“The army is here, they will protect us.” Your father murmurs solemnly beside you, his face stoic and rid of any bit of positivity

This could end very badly.

The four of you rush into the town square, trying your best to remain calm throughout the screaming, back up against a wall. Your grip tightens on your mothers hand as you spot the tents of the armed guests currently residing in your village.

The raiders continue their plundering throughout the town accompanied by the sounds of glass breaking and shouting.

Suddenly, there is a different sound: the clanking of swords. Briefly, you can see glimpses of armor peeking out of homes, the sight causing your eyes to widen.

“Look!”

Rachel and your parents crane their necks to see what you’re pointing out as the sounds coming from within your village begin to change.

Grunting, groaning, more clanking swords and a bit of shouting shoot out of the main street like fireworks.

“Clear the path!” An unfamiliar voice shouts and it’s then you can see what’s going on.

The raiders have been captured thanks to the ominous group of tourists that arrived yesterday.

Oddly enough, you don’t even remember seeing them leave their tents and it makes you wonder how the hell they managed to move so quickly undetected.

There are several men, dressed in black and gold armor, dragging the raiders by their shirts to the center of town square. One of them is a tall, doe eyed looking man with shaggy brown hair and biceps that could likely snap a neck if they so desired. He has his sword to the back of one of the raiders who scuffles along on his knees to meet with the rest of his captured teammates.

As the rest of the soldiers file in, another leader of the troop, tall and equally broad, gestures to Bambi with the biceps.

“Jungkook-ah! Bring the leader to the center; let our general deal with him.”

Jungkook does just that, quickly the toe of his boot into the back of the raider and jerking his head to the center of the plaza, “You heard him- move.” He grunts and the raider reluctantly shuffles forward.

Your fellow villagers are reasonably alarmed but, they all seem to freeze in place as they watch the show unravel before them.

This is already more excitement than your village has had in ages and, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eating it up.

The man who has now been identified as Jungkook, steps away from the raider, still pointing his sword at him, a smug smirk on his face, “You know for a master thief, you were far too easy to catch. Lucky for me, I made a bet with my brothers here that I would catch you in 10 minutes,” Jungkook walks back towards the man, entangling his fingers in the roots of his hair before tugging backwards, “, and according to the clock tower, it only took me 8.”

Beside you, Rachel seems to swallow back her surprise before subconsciously starting to fan her face,

“Goodness, he really is something huh?”

Despite the tense nature of the situation, her demeanor makes you giggle,

“Stop drooling over the calvary...”

She smacks you playfully which causes your father to shush both of you, a moment which reminds you of your schoolyard days.

A bit of immaturity is actually refreshing after the events of this morning.

“Jungkook-ssi,” A voice bellows throughout the plaza, sending a chill down your spine, “What have I told you about placing bets on our captors huh?”

As the voice grows louder, you see him: the Tiger, stepping out from the main street, his long platinum hair flowing freely in the wind. His hand brandishes a sword, one that most certainly possesses the ability to inflict some serious harm.

Sheepishly, Jungkook smirks, releasing the man’s hair roughly and stepping back to his original spot, his sword posing to strike.

“Sorry hyung, this one was just too easy. I saw him skirting the perimeter last night, I know it would be a sure win once I saw his technique.”

So that’s how the army was able to move so quickly; they already anticipated this attack.

The Tiger chuckles darkly, his eyes alight with pure delight, “Aish- what am I going to do with you people hm?”

He moves like his name; slow, deliberate, deadly- you know that you’re about to witness an execution and you aren’t sure if you can stomach the sight, even if these raiders deserve it.

Its your turn to swallow back your reaction to him which doesn’t go unnoticed by your best friend standing beside you.

“Now look who’s drooling...” She teases, giggling as you playfully shove your elbow into her side.

The crowd is dangerously still, hanging on each syllable the Tiger speaks whilst his men, six other soldiers roughly his size, watch intently.

The rest of the raider clan are being held captive by the remainder of the fleet, bowing their heads in shame and fear but, the leader seems unaffected by their defeat.

“You lot aren’t men.” The man spits, his accent thick, “you’re narcissistic little boys who like to play dress up. You’re cowards, hiding behind your swords, killing everything that stands in your way. You have no idea how the other half live. You have no honor.”

There are gasps throughout the crowd then as your village grows shocked at the way he’s spoken to the Tiger.

If you had any hope that this wouldn’t end violently, it’s been squashed by the time the leader finishes his sentence.

The Tiger however, merely chuckles again, a light smirk on his carnation lips,

“It’s odd that a man who earns his keep by stealing from others would have the authority to lecture my men and I about honor.” He kisses his teeth and slowly raises his sword to brush against the man’s cheek, “Look at all these poor people hm? You've terrified them. Your lack of intelligence isn’t their burden to bear now is it? But you have made it their problem; ripped them from their homes, terrorized their children, their livelihoods and, all because you’re too incompetent to learn your own trade.”

The Tiger’s words infuriate him and the next thing you know, he’s lunging off the ground towards the Tiger, a snarl arising on his mouth.

It prompts your hands to fly to your face and your feet to nearly trip over themselves as you brace for the inevitable fight.

But it doesn’t come.

With one swoop of his arm, the Tiger has the leader knocked to the floor and underneath his leather boot. Jungkook has reacted quickly as well, his arm raising in the air to slice his sword through the man’s body. With one twitch of his hand however, the Tiger stops Jungkook from following through,

“See? You can’t do things like that my friend. Because if you do, my big friend here with the sword will slice your greasy head in two.” The Tiger smirks again, before turning his head over his shoulder, “You folks wouldn’t want to spend the day cleaning blood of your beautiful plaza now would you?”

Overexcited villagers quickly shout various commentary at him,

“Kill him!”

“Cut his head off!”

“Make him pay!”

The Tiger chuckles once more, raising his brows as the man struggles beneath his boot, “Well, I guess you’re lucky they aren’t in charge of your punishment...” He looks up towards the remainder of his fleet, nodding his head at the other prisoners, “Namjoon, Jin: ensure that none of these men are here against their will. If the rest of you are here by choice, I suggest you make yourselves disappear into the forest before I allow these fine people to get ahold of you.”

Immediately, the Tiger’s fleet begin following his orders and take the men away towards their tents. As they walk out of the plaza, only Jungkook, the Tiger and the clan leader remain.

You notice Jungkook scan the crowd then, peering out at the eager faces watching the show he is willingly apart of. Very briefly but noticeably, his eyes land on your best friend and as they do, they seem to linger.

He looks curious, almost boyish in a way as his ways seem to memorize her face but before Rachel even realizes what’s going on, his eyes quickly return to the raider.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Don’t be a coward, I can’t listen to you ramble any longer.” The man growls which prompts the Tiger to push his foot down a little harder upon his back.

“I’m not your executioner, thief. Your fate resides with the Queens.” He explains, matter of factly before jerking his head towards Jungkook, “Put him in the portable cell. I’ll send a notice to the council that we have a criminal that needs to be dealt with.”

Jungkook nods, eagerly crossing the bit of plaza and kneeling down to restrain the man with handcuffs.

He grips the chain linking them and heaves him upwards so he’s standing between the two men.

“I’ll hose him off first,” Jungkook wrinkles his nose in disgust, “I don’t want him stinking up our camp.”

“Fuck you-” The man spits, jerking his wrists in Jungkook’s grip which then causes the Tiger to raise his sword once again.

“Behave yourself, thief.” He commands, his eyes darkening for the first time, “I’m assuming if you’ve heard stories of my fleet, you are privy to the fact that we don’t miss our target. Please don’t give me a reason to live up to my name.”

With that, the two men drag off the clan leader towards the rest of their fleet, not bothering to look back at the dozens of people they just saved.

They ignore the applause, the gratitude, the pleas for them to return and feast.

You have to admit that you’re shocked.

The supposedly wicked and ruthless Tiger sure seems to have quite a bit of restraint and diplomacy.

“Did he- did he really just let him go? Unharmed?”

Rachel asks a very good question and it seems to be the one on your parents minds as well.

“It’s extremely odd. I was fully prepared to witness an execution, he would have been within his right.” Your father notes, his eyes still trained on the center of the plaza.

Generals have a certain level of freedom with the prisoners they choose to capture; they are expected to have good judgement and carry out punishments if necessary.

In essence, the Tiger had every bit of authority to end that mans life and, given that he an eager crowd behind him, it genuinely perplexes you.

“Organized raids come with an automatic life sentence, the leaders are usually executed within a few days of their trial.” Your mother notes and it’s then that Rachel notices your silence.

“Well I think it’s safe to say that you didn’t make it on his hit list. You can’t be worse than a lead raider...” She grins, knowing full well that your confusion also comes with an annoying amount of curiosity.

She also knows that you plan on finding a way to speak with him again.

And she is absolutely right.

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

“Should I say hi to Jungkook for you? Ask if he’s betrothed?” You tease and Rachel promptly throws balled up dress your way.

You went to her house after the excitement in the town square to bake a batch of fresh bread for the Tiger’s fleet.

Bread is increasingly hard to come by these days due to a crop shortage in the northern region so despite what people may think, most military diets consist of salted meat and corn.

Doughy, fluffy, cheesy, rosemary bread is a luxury.

“I have a feeling you’ll be preoccupied with your mission to court the Tiger.” She retorts but a deep frown comes over her then, as she wraps the last loaf in parchment paper, “Are you sure you should be doing this? Waltzing over to a tent full of dangerous soldiers doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“I want to thank them.” You insist, loading your basket with the rest of the loaves, glancing up at your worried friend, “All the village ever talks about is how ruthless they are, how cruel they are known to be but, the reality is: they saved us. It must be frustrating to refuel just as any other fleet would and have people gossip about you or fear you unnecessarily. I’m not planning on staying for tea or anything, I just want to show my appreciation.”

Rachel raises her brows, “That’s all hm?”

You nod, “Yep.” Your lips pop with the sound of the p and Rachel remains unconvinced.

“This has nothing to do with the Tiger?”

“Of course not.” Your answer tumbles past your lips far too quickly and, it causes your friend to grin knowingly at you.

“I know that look-”

“Ugh what look?”

“The look. That one-” She points at you, “You’re about to do something you know you shouldn’t.”

Her smile is far too contagious and her knowledge of you surpasses anyone you’ve ever known in your life.

She has your number and there really is no point in lying to her.

“Fine, ok maybe it has a little something to do with the Tiger-” You smirk, trying to stifle the giggle that threatens your disposition, “Don’t laugh at me!”

Rachel’s twinkling laughter fills the room as she rounds the counter. Placing her hands on your shoulders, she smiles fondly at you, “Just be careful ok? I know he intrigues you and honestly I’m not at all surprised but, don’t let your curiosity get in the way of your safety. That’s the most important thing.”

“I won’t.” You promise, smiling back at her, placing your hands on hers, “I promise, I’ll be careful.”

Rachel helps you out once again, insuring you have everything you need before her soft voice is answering a question you asked moments earlier.

“And uh about that Jungkook boy-”

You smirk, “He’s definitely not a boy, did you see his muscles? He looks like he could bench press a mountain lion.”

She grows flustered, “No, I didn’t see any muscles, I have no idea what you’re talking about-”

“Oh so you also didn’t notice him staring at you in the plaza today right?”

Rachel’s eyes widen, “Wait he was?” She clears her throat, amending her eagerness as you giggle, “He definitely wasn’t staring at me don’t be ridiculous. What I was going to say-”

“What you were going to say is that ‘no Y/N, I don’t want you to check on Jungkook’s marital status directly but, should you happen to come across his left hand, let me know whether or not you see a shiny band around his finger, not that I would care or anything. Because, I totally don’t have the hots for him.’ “

Her mouth opens and then closes like a fish before she playfully nudges you through her doorway, “Shut up.”

With a laugh and a few parting words, you are off to visit the tent of your village's heroes.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous.

But you’d also be lying if you said you were nervous for the right reasons.

The concept of walking into the basecamp of a supposedly elite and ruthless fleet is one thing but, talking to someone you find attractive?

Absolutely terrifying.

Your presence is immediately noted by the men inside the camp.

Two of them are seated at a table outside of one of the tents, hands and teeth full of meat, their motions freezing in place as they see you.

As you pass by one of their horses, you notice of them is speaking with a group of raiders.

The conversation seems amicable, suggesting that many of the raider clan was indeed in your village against their will.

You approach the main but, before you are able to make ring the bell on the outside, you are crashing chest first into a very firm and very broad chest.

“Holy-” The voice sounds familiar and as you look up, you are meet with the bambi with biceps himself: Jungkook.

“Hello I-” You attempt to begin but his panicked voice interrupts you.

“Yah hyung??? Uh there’s a-” He swallows thickly stepping away from you, “There’s a girl here!”

The word seems foreign on his tongue and his behavior genuinely surprises you.

Where was the cocky warrior from this morning, brandishing a sword and placing bets on his captors?

“Jungkook, for the last time- we don’t use that word. We say young lady or woman...” Another voice, one you don’t recognize fades into your scope of hearing before pushing open the fabric of the tent. He is arguably just as beautiful as the other men, tall, dark haired, buff- as if he would be anything else.

“Oh, hello. Are you...” The man narrows his brows as he looks towards the group of raiders speaking with one of his counterparts, “Are you with the group or?”

You shake your head, your basket swinging when you turn back towards the village, “Oh no, no I’m from the village. My name is Y/N Y/L/N...” You bow your head slightly, “I came here to bring you this,” You gesture to the basket, “It’s fresh bread. I wanted to thank you for saving my people today.”

You feel the need to rush out your explanation as the rest of the fleet continues to stare at you. In fact, the way they are looking at you is rather unnerving.

It isn’t disrespectful just intrusive; they are looking at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head.

“You-” The man before you cocks his head, looking befuddled, “You came here to- thank us?”

“Well yes, I know bread is hard to come by and I figured you could use a pick-me-up after your fight this morning.”

He smiles now but his incredulity doesn’t change as he takes the basket from your hands, “It’s warm.” He notes, “Did you bake this recently?”

“Yes I baked it today, just now actually uh-” You decide to speak candidly now since the possible threat margin seems to be closing, “You look confused.”

Jungkook is practically hiding behind the man you’re addressing and it takes a large part of you not to laugh at his behavior.

“Forgive me.” He chuckles, “We aren’t exactly used to hospitality. Most villagers avoid us like the plague, it probably has to do with our General but regardless.” He bows his head, “We appreciate the gesture. I’ll make sure to pass along your gratitude to him once he returns.”

“Oh is he not here? I was hoping to thank him myself.” You try and mask the disappointment in your tone, not wishing to come across as stranger than you already did.

The man shakes his head, “No. He often takes a walk after an invasion; gotta make sure the perimeter is secure.” He smiles and you are taken aback by how white his teeth were, “My name is Seokjin, I’m the outreach expert on the fleet and unofficial chef. I promise your bread will be put to good use, it’s been months since we’ve had any decent carbs.”

His comment makes you smile and you are delighted that his demeanor is so welcoming.

“I’m sorry to heart that. Will you be in town long? I can try to set you up with a few more baskets before your departure?”

Seokjin chuckles warmly before snorting as Jungkook paws at the basket, “Easy.” He admonishes but its too late, Jungkook already has half a loaf down in his mouth, his chest rumbling with the sound of his groan.

“Oh my god hyung, it’s so good...”

Seokjin looks disgusted with him but hands him the basket anyway, nodding to the rest of the fleet, “Share. Make sure you save a loaf for Yoongi and I.”

Jungkook happily obliges but not before turning towards you and bowing, “Uh thanks for the- for the bread....”

His sentence is choppy and over before it even begins as he goes bounding off in the direction of his team.

“Pardon him, he’s been in the army since he was fourteen. We haven’t done an amazing job at socializing him but, he’s getting better. He’s still a bit antsy around women though.” Seokjin chuckles, fondness in his eyes, “Ah but to answer your question, yes. We've decided to set up here for a few weeks to train our new recruits. I would love to more of this bread if it’s not too much trouble.”

You smile, waving him off, attempting to conceal your happiness at the news he’s just delivered, “Nonsense, I’d be happy to bake some more.”

“Excellent!” He chirps, clasping his hands together, “I’m sure Yoongi would be happy to know we’ve finally manage to contact with a villager. It’s been an issue for us, stories spread like wildfire you know? And just like wildfire, they tend to do more harm than good.”

“And Yoongi is?”

Seokjin chuckles, “Ah I believe you’d know him better as...” He flutters his fingers dramatically, “ the Tiger.”

Yoongi.

So that was his name.

“Oh yes,” You amend, “I’ve certainly heard of him but, I prefer to make my own judgements rather than succumb to the gossip.”

He smirks, “That’s very noble of you Y/N. I for one,” He places a hand on his chest, throwing a wink your way, “, live for the gossip.”

Your meeting with Seokjin ends soon after that with a promise that you would return with more bread.

As much as you wanted to rush back to Rachel’s house to inform of your meeting with the ‘most dangerous fleet in the world’, you remind yourself that school is in session; a necessary but annoying inconvenience.

However, there are plenty of ways you plan on keeping busy for the remainder of the day and one of them involves visiting the river to collect more herbs for your remedies.

You obviously weren't able to sell your wares today as the marketplace was still littered with evidence of the robbery. Your parents had insisted you take the day off to restock and recuperate whilst they helped the village leaders clean up.

Reluctantly, you agreed and you are now very grateful that you had.

The river has always been one of your favorite places. It was rich, green, buzzing with life and, always a few degrees colder than your village. Surrounded by mossy trees that seem to stretch as high as the clouds, the river is encased with life. Rabbits, squirrels, tortoises, frogs and a plethora of birds all coral in the area the river resides in whilst bears, big cats, wolves and monkeys hide behind the dense forest. It’s any apothecary’s paradise as it is also the residence of any herbs capable of growing in damp areas.

Angelica, Blue Vervain, Marshmallow, Stinging Needle and more: the river is your one stop shop for so many of your essential ingredients.

Today you’re after a particular herb though and armed with another woven basket, you make your way towards the large bushels of it growing at the base of a tree trunk.

Valerian is an essential herb in your arsenal and due to its popularity, it’s something you’re consistently having to restock.

Gathering it carefully, ensuring you don’t disturb the root of the plant.

You are so enthralled with your current task that you don’t even notice that you are no longer alone.

“Is this where the tree bark grows?”

You jump nearly six feet out of your skin, whipping your head around to face your intruder.

Standing before you is the myth himself, the Tiger or as you’ve recently learned: Yoongi.

He’s still in his armor from earlier, his long tendrils pulled back away from his face into a low ponytail. Between his lips, which are curving slightly, is a piece of the bark he had taken from your cart the day prior.

He is chewing it as you instructed.

“You of all people should know not to ambush someone like that...” You breath, placing a hand on your chest, “I could have wacked you with this basket or something.”

He just smirks, “I’ve had worse.” He notes, taking the bark from between his teeth, “I’m sorry I frightened you though, I didn’t expect to see anyone here.”

“Likewise.” You retort, nodding your head at the bark, “Is it helping?”

He shrugs, “Too early to tell I suppose but, it’s tending to my oral fixation so, either way it has a purpose.”

You straighten up a bit more and smooth out your dress, “It will work, it just takes a bit of time.” You assure him before adjusting the herbs in your basket, “I came by your tent earlier to offer my thanks for what you and your men did today, your outreach coordinator Seokjin told me he’d pass along the message but-”

“You did what?”

His tone doesn’t entirely lean one way or the other and you quickly grow worried that you offended him.

“I brought a basket of bread to uh-” You swallow thickly, meeting the intensity of his gaze, “to your camp as a thank you for saving my village.”

Several emotions flicker across his face before he settles on surprise, “I see. Were they polite?”

You can’t help but smile, this day truly has been full of surprises and, Yoongi’s demeanor is only adding to that list.

“I only had the privilege of meeting Seokjin and well- I kind of met Jungkook but, he seemed a little-”

“Awkward?” Yoongi smirks

“A little.” You amend, “But both of them were very polite. They explained that they often don’t receive any hospitality on stops like this; I was very sorry to hear that.”

Yoongi’s teeth seem to catch the inside of his cheek as he nods curtly, “There’s no need for apologies. Hospitality is welcome but, never expected. I try to teach my men that we should never expect gratitude for what we do as it so often comes with a price.”

“I suppose gratitude should be offered situationally then, there was very little draw back to what you did today. Our village is privy to raiders; maybe if word gets around that you all were in town, that might prevent this from happening again.”

He purses his lips before nodding in consideration, “I see you’re point. Regardless of its necessity, gratitude is always welcome: especially when free food is involved.”

His comment makes you giggle and your laughter makes his lips itch in a way they never have.

“I wholeheartedly agree with that. I get a surprising amount of baked goods sent my way doing what I do so, I’ll have no problem dolling out the gratitude while you all are here.”

Yoongi’s brows knit in confusion, “Do you people often pay you in baked goods?”

Laughter flows freely out of your mouth then and you shake your head at his question, “Definitely not, I sell my goods for currency as does any obedient member of society,” At this Yoongi smirks again, he likes your wit, a lot, “but I do receive muffin baskets, cakes, pies and whatnot from happy customers. They’re mainly from women whose husbands have taken my ginseng remedy.”

His curiosity blooms, “And why is that?”

You feel a bit of heat rushing to your cheeks, “Ginseng enhances uh- drive, often times it can be used a stimulant to promote you know-” You’re hoping Yoongi will put the pieces together but instead his eyes remain expectant, “passion.”

The word makes Yoongi straighten up a bit and in an effort to look casual, he nods quickly and hums a little too loudly.

“Ah yes. Of course. Well, as I said- free food is free food right?” He wagers, his fingers rubbing at the bit of bark.

Its your turn to smirk now but, you quickly change the subject when you ask, “Is the leader of the clan secure? I didn’t see him when I passed through your camp.”

He clears his throat, bringing the bark back towards his mouth, “He is. I have him locked up just behind the trees so he isn’t able to influence the new recruits. He had an alarming number of unwilling participants within his group, many of them claimed to be brought there with the threat of physical harm.”

You kiss your teeth and shake your head, “I don’t understand that kind of behavior. I understand that sometimes desperate people do desperate things but, to exert power or harm over another person without a viable cause...it just makes no sense to me.”

He’s intrigued now and as he brings the bark back to his lips, his brow knit with curiosity, “Hm. So do you think there is a justification to steal but not to commit violence?”

You can’t figure out why your opinion would matter to him but, you sure as hell aren’t going to question the length of this conversation.

“I think that some people believe they have no other choice but to steal. Wealth and power aren’t possible without a poor man to stand on, to oppress- I don’t support the idea of taking what doesn’t belong to you but, I could see why people are driven to do so. People are growing tired of being the poor man. Senseless violence isn’t something I could find a justification for. What the raiders often do, is both so I guess-” You hesitate, “I’m conflicted.”

Yoongi is captivated by your explanations, not because they are particularly ground breaking but, because they are particularly human. You aren’t afraid to discuss the complexity of life nor are you afraid to admit when certain things confound you.

“That’s a fair assessment. Do you agree with today’s outcome?”

Your smile returns, as you adjust the basket on your arm again, “I did. Especially because it seemed to surprise everyone, myself included.”

His lips return to his smirk, “Why? Because I didn’t behead him?”

“Exactly.” You breathe out a laugh before continuing, “I for one was shocked to see you deal with the situation without your trusty viper...”

His face turns to one of incredulity, “Oh my- you're not serious are you? Do people genuinely think I keep a viper on me at all times? Do they have any idea how unpractical that is?”

Yoongi’s reaction sends you into a fit of giggles and the sound makes his lips itch again.

He decides he enjoys the sound very much.

“I’m sure you’ve set a few people straight after this morning,” You offer, wiping a bit of moisture from the corner of your eye, “I doubt the rumors will repopulate the same way after you leave.”

“What do you think of them?”

“The rumors?”

“They’re entertaining.” You shrug, “But I don’t like to make assumptions about people unless I’ve met them, not even scary and supposedly cruel generals like yourself.”

The ghost of a smile shows itself on Yoongi’s mouth and his eyes seem to glimmer, pleased with your answer.

“I wish more people had that mindset.”

It’s all he says before promptly dropping the subject again, nodding in the direction behind him, “I should probably head back to camp. I have a feeling that the longer I am away, the smaller my chances of getting any of that bread become.”

“You’re probably right, I have to be back before sunset anyway.” Your parents don’t like it when you’re out at the river after dark, “It was very nice meeting you Yoongi. I hope you enjoy the bread.”

His lips as he realizes something vital, “I’m sure I will. Forgive me, I don’t remember catching your name...”

At his observation, you extend your hand towards his, “Oh of course, my name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Without looking down, he grasps your hand gently as if he were afraid to break it, “Y/N- I’ll remember it.” He promises unnecessarily but it still sends a flutter through your heart, “Get home safe.”

When he releases your hand, you step back towards the bushel of Valerian before smiling once more,

“You too.”

As Yoongi departs from the river, he smirks to himself.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be the routine stop he had planned on.

Perhaps this would be so much more.

1K notes · View notes

cozycryptidcorner · 4 years ago

Photo

Fiore the Genderfluid Kelpie

Notes: this is a commission from a user who wishes to remain anonymous, about a curly-haired musician meeting her monster match for the first time.

If your roommates weren’t such absolute twats about the noise, then you really wouldn’t have much of a reason to practice your violin in the outdoors like some kind of lonely vagabond. The day is bright, only a few clouds in the sky, but not specifically warm enough to make you melt into the little dirt path. Nor do you feel much strain in your lungs as you hike around the dirt path. It’s the kind of day that hints of summer, with all the warm, soft sunlight of the day without the same, stifling heat that comes in the deeper throes of those months.

Hauling everything- the violin, the stand, and the sheet music should be more complicated than it seems, but you’re so used to it by now that you don’t really notice the effort. All the better, then, because having an explosive argument with your roommate over staying indoors would be more trouble than it’s worth. The smaller university also locks its practice doors during the summer, so you can’t go there.

So, again, outdoors, it is.

Google maps is very helpful for seeing the dirt trail that weaves its way around the nearby lake, though it doesn’t register it as a viable pathway. You have to eyeball it, which is okay, because you think it would be reasonably simple to make your way back to the high rises of the city, as you can see them once you stand on a hill, right on your tiptoes. There’s a gorgeous, large, and ancient weeping willow that google’s satellites have captured, one that’s large enough to provide shade and shelter from any unruly breeze. Already, you spot it on the other side of the water, so you tuck your phone into your pocket and head in that direction.

Setting everything up is easy, the collapsable stand simple enough to build, the ground flat enough to allow it to stay upright. You trap your sheet music to it with clothing pins, just as a precaution despite the breeze isn’t quite strong enough to blow them to kingdom come, and turn on your metronome app on your phone as you set it right next to the paper. Once everything is set up, albeit with your violin still in its case, you allow yourself to go investigate the edge of the lake itself, just for the sake of looking around.

The lake is large, extensive, and a shimmering, crystalline blue. You remember that a few years ago, some environmentalist people in town managed to get a large clean-up production in order, clearing out the trash and filtering the muddied water until it stopped shining with grease. There’s an ancient, dilapidated dock, the old, rotting wood half-submerged in the reeds and water, though you think that the very center might be able to hold your weight.

Wanting only to get a better look at the lake as a whole, you step onto the dock, wincing as it creaks under a portion of your weight, but it seems to take it well enough. Carefully, you place your other foot down, too, then carefully tiptoe over the part of the wood that looks the most stable, getting about halfway down the dock. The lake itself is supposed to be ridiculously deep, there’s a river that provides freshwater from the melting snow on the nearby mountains, so it also must be rather cold.

Funnily enough, as soon as you think that, there is a violent crack sound from beneath your shoes, and you find out for yourself exactly how cold the water really is. It’s freezing, just as expected, a biting, icy feeling running through your nerves, and you barely even have time to shut your mouth tight to avoid getting a mouthful of water. Your arm smarts as it hits a plank wrong, and there’s a snap that you aren’t sure is from the wood or your arm.

You struggle, arms flailing limply as you try to surface. There’s something on your foot, though, it’s somehow pinned or stuck in a stray part of the dock, and you don’t think you even have the air to deal with it. Letting out a breath of bubbles to help ease the tension in your chest, you bend your knee a bit, dragging yourself down further, and try to feel out what you’re stuck in.

Wood, definitely another part of the dock, and it feels like you just punched your foot clean through, right up to your ankle. You wriggle, trying to shimmy your way out, but there seems to be absolutely no way for you to get out without at least dislocating something. Before you can even process true, absolute panic at the thought of drowning, a pair of arms wrapping around your chest and pulls. A shock of pain runs through your leg, and your struggle, harder, jabbing your elbow against something… rubbery, you think.

The water is too murky for you to see beyond the blob figure that swims gracefully down to your ankle. After just a moment, two arms reach forward, snapping the plank with such ease that you wonder why you weren’t able to pop out of it yourself, but suddenly you’re being pulled up again, though this time, you actually feel the air.

You splutter and gasp, your face probably cherry pink with the violent effort your body makes to resupply oxygen. Once you manage to take in a few, choking gasps, you spin around to see your rescuer, a bit taken back when you notice the lack of clothing on her pale, freckled body. She’s slim in frame, not at all looking anywhere near strong enough to be able to snap a slab of wood like it was nothing more than a twig even if it had been rotting in the water for god knows how long.

“Um, thank you,” you say awkwardly, unsure of what else to do, “for helping me, I mean.”

She eyes you up and down, her eyes glittering in the reflection of the sunlight dancing up from the water. There’s something that’s oddly absent from her gaze, like a slab of blankness beneath the blue irises, and you find yourself unconsciously crossing your arms across your chest in a sort of protective gesture of yourself.

“Of course,” she says finally, after a long, awkward pause, “you were drowning.”

The way she says it makes it sound like she wasn’t entirely sure if that was what really was happening or not, so you wonder if maybe she’s teetering on embarrassment? That might explain her strange behavior.

“My foot was stuck, yeah,” you say. “If you hadn’t freed me, I probably would have.”

“Hm,” she nods sagely, as though that were an answer to another unasked question, “you cannot breathe in the water.”

“No, I can’t.” You are suddenly very aware of your wet socks as you shift your weight, the thick layer of silt squishing down and over the soles of your tennis shoes. “That’s the thing about humans, we can’t breathe underwater.”

“Fascinating,” she mulls the idea over, as though she couldn’t possibly relate.

“Um,” you’re trying very hard not to stare at any other part of her body but her face, “yes, so I was here to practice my violin, but um, I didn’t realize that anyone else was here.”

“Practice the violin?” She echoes.

“My instrument,” you gesture vaguely in the direction of where you set up your temporary haven of music, “I was going to practice out here because my roommates get annoyed by the noise. I didn’t realize that someone was out here, though, I thought I’d be alone.”

She waits for you to elaborate, but when you don’t, she suggests, “if you are worried I might mind a little music while I lounge and swim, you should not. I will somehow survive.”

It takes you a moment to process that she must be joking, so you let out a brief laugh. “I’m sorry for crashing your lounging and swimming. Um, do you happen to have a name?”

“Of course,” she says.

When she doesn’t embellish, you ask, “what is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She has to think about it for a moment, you can see her eyes fade as she wanders through the depths of her mind to drudge it up. You wonder how long she might have gone without hearing it because the long silence that follows seems a little too meticulous to be her looking for a fake one to give. “Fiore.”

“Fiore?” You shift again, wincing at the feeling of slime absorbing into your shoes still. “That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you; it is, isn’t it.”

Slowly but steadily, you manage to get yourself out of the muck, kicking off your shoes and socks once you’re free from the reeds. Bare feet on a dirt path, you think, is preferable to the soggy, squishing feeling of muddied and wet shoes, and when you turn around, you don’t spot your savior anywhere. Shrugging that off, you head back over to your little setup, checking over your phone, thankful that you had the foresight to pull it out of your pocket before you took an impromptu dunk in the lake.

Popping your violin case open, you begin on your scales, just as a brief exercise to warm your fingers up before moving onto more complicated pieces. Pressing against the strings, you quickly draw your bow out to make the notes. C major, then minor, then D major, then minor, and so on until you moved halfway through the scales before glancing self-consciously over to where you last saw Fiore, but there isn’t any sign of her slim figure.

Thinking that she might have just left while you were paying attention to your finger’s positions over the strings, you go back to practicing, finishing your scales, and choosing from your bags which piece to begin working on.

You would say that this is the most peaceful practice session that you’ve had since this whole worldwide ugly situation has started. No roommates come banging on your door to tell you to quiet it down, no angry stomping protests from the neighbors in the above apartments. Just you, the violin, and your music, and you find yourself improving somewhat on one of the more difficult passages in a piece that’s had you stuck for a long while.

In fact, it was so productive that you find yourself returning in a few days, spurred on by the annoyance of your roommates. The weather is beautiful enough, a gentle breeze cooling any sort of heat that may become stifling in the warming spring. You repeat the actions from when you were last at the lakeside, setting everything up, leaving your phone on the stand, then move to investigate the shore.

You are looking to see if Fiore is here, you’re not ashamed to admit it, but as you scope out the edge of the lake, you see no one around. Not even a telltale sign of rippling to suggest that someone is swimming just below the surface, so you suppose that she just isn’t around. Which, you assume, might as well be expected, because it’s not like you know her whole schedule of when she actually goes for a swim.

So you start practicing again, going through your scales, then beginning on your regular pieces. As you pause, maybe a half-hour into working, to turn on the metronome on your phone, you notice a head of black hair poking up from the water. Which is weird, because you didn’t see anyone in your periphery arrive, you think you might have given the circumstances, but maybe you were just so sucked into the music that you weren’t paying attention to anything else.

Thinking it must be Fiore, you walk over, popping up on your tiptoes so that you can get a better view of her head, you almost stop in your tracks when you realize that the body swimming in the pond is, in fact, very masculine. And just as naked, but you digress. Face so red you think you might look more like a tomato than human, you take a step back, your foot catching on some root or twisted patch of grass, and you fall hard on your ass.

He’s looking at you promptly, eyes sharp and hauntingly familiar. You’re even more embarrassed, now, because you thought that you might have been able to make a quiet and unnoticed retreat. Instead, you’re looking at the face of someone who seems to be debating on whether or not to eat you alive. At least, that’s what it feels like from his predatory glare.

“I- I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.” It dawns on you now that he might think that you were trying to get a sneak peek of the goods, and just the thought of gaining the reputation of a peeping tom makes your face heat up even more. “There was like this girl who was here last time I practiced, I mean, I saw her when I was practicing violin, too, and you two actually look a lot alike, so I thought- I, um, thought you were her because of the black hair.”

The man regards you with no small amount of suspicion, eyes narrow.

Nervous, you try to dig yourself out of the hole you’ve made. “I was practicing violin, she seemed to like the music- I mean, I think she did. I’m really sorry to bother you, and I’ll just go back to practicing, sorry.”

As you get up to leave, the man cocks his head. “Your hair.”

Mindlessly, as if spurred on only by the word, you reach up and pluck one of the coils, pulling it down to its full length if it were straight. “Y-yeah?”

“It didn’t do that, not when you were here last. How did you make it crumple up?”

Was he there, and you just didn’t see him? “I- I don’t know what you mean.” You release the strand, and it pops back into place, frowning. “It’s just curly?”

“It was straight when you fell into the water.”

“Oh,” feeling sheepish to have your past mistake thrown out like that by another stranger makes you want to bury yourself, “that’s what happens when my hair gets wet. It stops being curly.”

The man regards you like he’s never even heard of such a thing before. Ignoring the weird feeling in your chest, you approach the water, cupping your fingers together, and bring a fistful of water up to a strand. True to your word, it straightens out almost instantly, and you allow him to stare at you like a bug under a microscope, comparing the now damp strand with the rest of your hair.

“See?” You offer, hoping the pinkness in your face might have died down by the attempts to satiate his own curiosity.

“So it was you,” he says, nodding sagely as if he figured it out on his own.

“Yeah, yup, that was me.” You take a significant step back, wiping your hand on your shirt. “I don’t remember seeing you, though, so you must have been swimming out on the far side.”

There’s an awkward pause, and just when you’re about to turn around and retreat back to your music stand, the man speaks, “You don’t remember me?”

Immediately, you try to go through your recollection of that day to see if you somehow wholly blocked the presence of the man, as well, but you don’t think you did. “Did you introduce yourself?”

He looks almost hurt. “I’m Fiore, I told you.”

Now it’s your turn for your eyes to bug out of your skull, because no, that’s not Fiore. Fiore is… admittedly, the same size as this man, tall, slim, with black hair that does fall past her shoulders, but come on. Come on! There’s no way the two are the same person, at least, you don’t think so, because you could have remembered everything wrong. You couldn’t have, though, because this really isn’t something you can just mix up.

“You’re confused,” probably-not-Fiore observes, which is most likely an elementary observation on his part.

“Yes.” You admit, not wanting to outright refuse to believe that what probably-not-Fiore’s saying is false.

“I see.” There’s a faraway look in his face, open enough to give you the feeling that he’s trying to put some kind of explanation in words. “It’s like your hair.”

“My hair,” you repeat, unsure.

“Your hair changes. My body changes. It’s… the same, but different.” Maybe-Fiore places a hand on his chest and drags it downwards to his stomach. “Sometimes, I feel better in this body. Sometimes I feel better in other bodies.”

“Oh,” you say, because that makes perfect fucking sense, of course, why didn’t you think of that earlier, “right.”

“The humans have a term for that, I think,” Maybe-Fiore places a hand on his chin as he thinks, “another visitor to my lake told me, but I cannot remember it.”

“Oh, you’re not human,” you say, not believing him in the slightest, “I didn’t realize.”

“Did I not mention it,” Fiore says in a tone that suggests that he very well knows that he never uttered a word about his species, “interesting. Anyway, I enjoyed the music you played earlier, and I would like to hear it again.”

“Alright,” you hesitate, though you know that you might as well comply. Slowly, you head back to where you left your stand and pick up your violin. Trying your best to focus, you begin practicing again, starting with scales and arpeggios as you did the last time you were here. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him, lounging, still very naked, on the outer banks of the lake, clearly enthralled in your music.

You’re not sure if you can be flattered over that or not, but you continue practicing nonetheless. When you’ve put in some time- about an hour or two, according to your phone, you begin breaking down your practice area, collapsing your music stand, and packing away your books. Maybe-Fiore is lying leisurely on the side of the dilapidated dock, eyes only opening once the music has ceased.

Sometimes, I feel better in this body. Sometimes I feel better in other bodies, he has said, and you try to digest what that means, the humans have a term for that, I think.

“Did you mean genderfluid?” You ask suddenly, popping your case shut.

He sits up as you stand, trying to formulate a sentence. “What?”

“You said you sometimes feel comfortable in other bodies, and that there was a word for it. Did you mean genderfluid?” You clarify, trying to adjust the straps of your myriad of bags, so the weight is evenly distributed on your shoulders.

“Yes- that.” He smiles, and there’s a weird feeling swimming in your stomach when you see it. “Sometimes, I feel like a male. Sometimes I feel like a female… and I have the advantage of being able to change.”

“Okay,” you nod, wondering for the first time if he actually is Fiore, if Fiore could simply switch their sexes the moment they felt different. Which… you think is a tad bit out there, because changing one’s shape so instantaneously and thoroughly isn’t physically possible. That you know of, though.

“Will you play closer to the lake next time you come?” Maybe-Fiore says, laying back down against the half-rotted wood, closing his eyes.

“If you’d like,” you say, warming up to the idea. You would be directly under the sun, but a lot of sunscreen and plenty of water might keep you from dying.

“I would like,” he nods firmly, rolling back over into the water.

Trying to not look below his waist, you say your goodbyes, and turn to leave.

The weather is already warming up, as though spring was nothing more than a few-day blip on the calendar. The humidity doesn’t help matters, either, because your hair has decided to do something very unique with itself, poking out in oddly placed tufts that don’t want to conform to any other look but insane person. When you come back to the lake, you have a water bottle filled to the brim with mostly ice to melt and sip on while you practice.

You hear the horse before you see it, the tromping of hooves against the earth, a loud, resounding whinny as it sees you in the middle of its path. It’s an incredibly large, foreboding creature, pale like a ghost, a myriad of speckles dotting its back half. Immediately, adrenaline bursts into your veins, because random, galloping horses are not good news, especially when it seems to be heading right for you.

Just when you’re about to shed your stuff and dodge, the horse makes a sharp turn, kicking up some dirt as it does so. Even though the immediate danger is over, your heart is still quaking in your chest hard enough to feel the aftershocks in your fingertips. You are far too startled to do much other than watch the admittedly majestic creature with a wary eye as it gallops over to the lake, the white spray of water splashing about as it plunges beneath the surface.

All that happened within the span of a few moments, and you are far too surprised at the… the absurdness of it all to do much more than stand there, mouth agape, as you quietly debate the pros and cons of leaving your things so you could run away faster. Before you come to a conclusion, though, you see a head of black hair pop up from the water, and all you can think of is Fiore and a feral horse getting into a tussle that the creature would not lose.

You drop your things and run, but not away from the lake, towards. Wild horses could easily cave someone’s skull in like a mallet to a melon, and you’re not going to just leave when Fiore- whoever they may be- might end up pummeled to death by hooves. While you try to shout- keyword try here- you find that the ungodly speed you’re running at mixed with your panicking lungs, all you can manage is a weak wheeze until you near the edge of the lake.

When you get that close, you see that it is Fiore, her slim, long hair sticking to her skin from the water. You’re just about to run yourself into the mud, but you manage a screeching halt, gasping for air, a drop of sweat rolling down your temple as you manage to choke out, “horse, there’s a horse-”

“Not anymore,” Fiore chirps, completely unaware of your panic.

“What? No,” you bend over, your lungs desperately trying to compensate for the sudden strain, “there was like a huge-ass horse that almost trampled me earlier, it went into the lake- and-” come to think of it, why haven’t you seen it surface for air? Where did it go?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Fiore steps closer to the shallows, the water only waist-deep on her. “I was just delighted to see you, I may have gotten a little too excited.”

You shake your head, only half processing the nonsense she’s speaking. “Not you, the horse. There’s a horse!”

“Yes,” Fiore sounds like you, almost exasperated that you do not quite understand what’s going on, “I didn’t mean to startle you, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t startle me, the horse did!”

Fiore looks at you, her eyes narrowed slightly, making you feel like you’re missing a massive, undeniable piece of some puzzle you didn’t know you were playing. “And I said I was sorry, sweet thing.”

Even though a shiver runs through your back when she calls you that- sweet thing- you have to be misunderstanding something significant here because... is Fiore insinuating that she can turn into a horse? You are going to faceplant onto the ground if the answer is yes. “Fiore.”

“Yes.”

“So, you were a horse just a few minutes ago.”

“Yes?” She sounds almost relieved that you finally understand what’s happening. Like back and forth was exhausting, and she could not understand why you didn’t.

“Ha.” You’re going insane. Or maybe Fiore was trying to pull a fast one, a long drawn out fast one, and this is all some kind of elaborate hoax to mock the girl who hikes half a mile just to play the violin. “No.”

“Ha, yes,” Fiore counters, almost impatiently.

“But-”

“What makes it so difficult to understand?”

You feel like your brain is going to explode. “Um… I need to go fetch my violin.”

She brightens somewhat. “Don’t forget that I want you playing closer this time.”

“R-right.”

Surely you’re teetering on the very edge of sanity because that conversation did not just happen. Slowly, you gather your things, trying to mull the conversation over in your head. Fiore- the woman, the man, the horse, this can’t be happening. But you can’t come up with any sort of more logical explanation, especially since any other alternative seems far wilder than the simplicity of shapeshifter. So as you begin to put everything together to play, you ask, almost timidly, “what are you?”

“What do you mean?” She’s sitting out of the water, naked, only a few arm’s lengths away.

“I mean,” your fingers are shaking too much to actually play, so you pretend to tweak at the strings of the violin to tune it, even though you don’t have the means to properly do so, “if you can change like that, and you even said that you aren’t human, what are you?”

There’s another faraway look in Fiore’s eyes, the same as when you first asked for her name. Like she has to struggle to remember, as though she hasn’t had to explain her existence in a long while. “Your people have many different names for mine,” she says, reminiscing, “but I suppose that you might know the word ‘kelpie,’ hm?”

You are not going to be scared, not yet. Trying to keep your voice calm, you ask, “like the man-eating horse creature?”

Fiore, to her credit, seems to find that description funny, of all things. “I haven’t tasted man in so long, but I can’t say that I find it particularly delicious. I prefer those creatures with the horns, what are they called... cattle.”

At least she doesn’t seem to favor the taste human, so you force your body to relax a little. “And you live in the lake?”

“For as long as this village has existed.” She closes her eyes, you can see a timeline play in her mind. “Though, not so much a little vagabond grouping anymore.”

You think of the high rising skyline and let out a little snort, unbidden, “you can say that again. Have you visited the city square recently?”

“I’ve never visited the square,” she leans back on her elbows, staring up at the sky listlessly, “never needed to, really.”

“Huh,” you’ve finally managed to stop your shaking body, calming down enough to lift your violin to your chin, “maybe we should go together sometime.”

Before you give her time to process the offer, you drag the bow across the G string, letting the note resonate over the landscape, just to make sure you didn’t muck anything up during the impromptu tuning. Satisfied with the outcome, you begin to play, not bothering to set up your stand or bring out any books, sitting cross-legged in the soft grass instead of standing. This isn’t really about practicing, you decide, but about letting the music flow through you naturally.

By the way Fiore’s eyes become half-lidded, then slowly close, you can tell that she’s enjoying your improv. With your focus only on the next several notes, you need your fingers to grasp; you can’t put too much attention in how beautiful she is, sprawled out in the sun like this. Only that she is, but you try to only use your periphery to observe this.

“You said that you could show me the main square?” She asks when the music notes slowly ebb away.

“I mean,” how do you put this delicately, “you might have to put on some clothes, first.”

Her face scrunches up in a slight scowl at the mere thought. “Yes, I’ve noticed that humans are cautious about covering your bodies up. If you’d like, you can take yours off now, I wouldn’t mind.”

You try not to balk at the idea right off the bat because you’re not sure if mutual nakedness means the same thing to her as it does to you. “I’m fine for now, actually. I don’t mind the clothing.”

“If you insist.” She goes back to her leisurely lounging. “But I suppose that I would have to wear… something, if I were to enter the city.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, there are laws about public nudity.”

Fiore lets out a little hmph, “and there are certain rules to the clothing.”

“... Yeah,” you say, trying not to show too much sheepishness.

“But you will help me?”

“Of course.”

Fiore pauses, cocking her head to the side as she thinks. “I believe someone once told me that such an outing would be called a ‘date.’”

You just about crack the wood of your violin in half. Not entirely sure in which direction either of you would like to take, you say, “I mean- yes, it could be, but it doesn’t have to-”

“What do you mean when you say it is, but it doesn’t need to be? Are humans always so very confusing about such matters? Must be exhausting.”

There’s some truth to that statement, your brain is especially ready to explode again, though for a much different reason than before. “I mean… if you’d like it to be a date, it could be a date. But if you didn’t want to go on a date with me, it could be like a platonic get-together.”

Fiore squints, running over her options, then shrugs. “I’m fine with a romantic outing.”

The hairs on your arm stand up. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.” There’s an odd, explosive sensation in your chest, and you’re not sure what to do about it. “That sounds like a plan.”

#exophilia #kelpie #kelpie/reader #monster lovers #monster/reader #genderfluid monster

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shadow-assassin-blix · 4 years ago

Text

Be Still, My Heart

Part 3

A/n: Last official part. Will do headcanons/blurbs for them but for now this story is done.

Everything: @mikeisthricedeceased

Pedro: @m-123 @fioccodineveautunnale @artsymaddie @blo0dangel @mcrmarvelloki

The morning started normally; she was reviewing some files when she first got into the office. She smiled softly when Marcus arrived and sat down across from her at his desk.

The team slowly filed in, and by noon they were transferring files to the team that was taking over for them. They had barely started the process when the head supervisor, Martinez, came in and asked to speak to her.

Steel stood up and followed him to his office. The meeting lasted an hour when Steel was finally sent back out. Marcus noted her face looked blank, but her eyes were rimmed red. She quietly began to pack her desk up.

“…What is going on?” He asked her, coming to stand near her.

“… Short version: I’m fired. Or “asked to take early retirement at half benefits,”” She muttered shortly, tossing things into an empty file box without care.

She refused to look up at him as she did this and quickly grabbed the box and her things before striding to the elevator to leave.

Marcus stared at where she stood in confusion, moving to Martinez’s office to get answers.

“Why did you fire Steel?” He asked as he burst into the office.

He noticed vaguely that the head of the gang unit was also in there.

“Agent Y/L/N was ordered to not go near Felix Hernandez. Her attachment to him causes a great deal of issues. He was arrested 20 minutes ago, asking for her. Her continued involvement within the agency could destroy the RICO case that we have been working on for years. This was the best route,” Martinez informed him with a sigh.

Marcus took a heavy breath, running his hand over his face.

“Why was he asking for her?” Marcus questioned looking at both of them.

“Hernandez apparently named her the emergency guardian for Valentina. Steel was given two options: relinquish guardianship and keep her job or keep it and leave the agency. She chose the latter,” Agent Lowell from the Gang Unit filled in.

“You gave her the option… to abandon a child to the foster system just to keep her job? Did you really think she would do that?” Marcus asked astounded.

He turned and left at that point. He marched to the elevator, determined to catch up to Steel. He found her at her home, sitting outside on her steps. Her arms were wrapped her knees and chin rested atop them.

He took a seat next to her, “Martinez and Lowell told me what happened. What do you need me to do?”

“Tomorrow I go in to see Felix and confirm everything. By the end of the week, Valentina will be with me. I… I know you didn’t sign up for this… I… I don’t know what to do beyond this,” She whispered, sniffling as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Well. I still want to be with you… If… I know this is fast but… my place in DC has 3 bedrooms… You and Valentina can stay with me… if you’d like,” Marcus offered.

“According to the child protective services, we have to stay here for at least 6 months. I don’t want you to stay here and put your career on hold for me. We can… skype and call/text. I just… I still want to be with you as well, I just don’t want you to stop living just for us,” She said to him after a moment.

“Okay. 6 months. I can deal with that. 6 months and the 2 of you come live with me,” Marcus replied with a nod.

She gave a watery smile, hoping that the distance and time wouldn’t put a strain on their relationship.

“So… shall we unpack…everything? Or would you like to keep some of it packed still?” Marcus asked sighing heavily as he realized their work over the weekend was for naught.

“I’d rather not unpack everything. Just the necessary items should be enough. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t think this would happen,” She murmured, staring up at the sky.

“I know. Let’s go get you situated, and tonight I’ll make you dinner. Do… do you want me to take you to the prison tomorrow to see Felix?” He hesitantly inquired as he stood back up.

“Yeah… I’d like that. Honestly, I don’t know how I am going to react tomorrow. He… he dropped a bomb in my lap,” She said swallowing harshly, her mouth dry, as she stood up as well.

“I’ll be there every step of the way, no matter what,” He assured her, kissing her firmly.

She kissed him back, feeling the tension in her body leave her. There was something about Marcus that just instantly relaxed her.

The two of them unpacked a handful of boxes that afternoon. After that Marcus made her pancakes and eggs. She laughed as she watched him try to flip them and be fancy. He made her forget about her worries for the time.

He stayed with her that night; nothing happened, but she wished it did. The two of them shared her bed; Steel didn’t want to be alone and enjoyed cuddling with him.

The next day came around far sooner than she wanted, and she dreaded the trip to the prison. Each step she took toward the visiting room made her feel like she was walking to her doom. She took a seat at the table she was directed to by one of the guards.

It didn’t take long for Felix appear, nor for his scummy lawyer to materialize out of nowhere. His lawyer presented her with some documents and a pen.

Felix stared at her for a long time, not speaking.

“Felix. Let’s just get this over with please,” Steel quietly pleaded.

He blinked, clearing his throat, “Yeah. I named you Valentina’s guardian. Your… your old boss has quite the case against me. I’m… I’m take a plea bargain. But… it still means time in the clink… like… 15 years’ worth at least. Valentina’s only 14. She… she needs someone. I don’t want to go away for that time and let her wind up in the foster system. She… listens to you. Loves you.”

“I love her too. I am willing to take her but… you cost me my job. Twice if we are going to be honest. I won’t deny her if you want to keep in touch but… I don’t want to ever see you again. I can’t…” She struggled to speak.

“I understand. If I may say so… I did… I did love you. Even after…everything. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you,” He said looking her in the eye.

She nodded her head once, turning her attention to the lawyer. He proceeded to explain that Valentina was to stay in one stable home for at least 6 months until the trial is over before Steel would be allowed to move or relocate. There were other terms and conditions that Steel understood and signed on the dotted line once it was all said and done.

“It will take about 2 business days for these to process. You can pick up Valentina from her group home by the end of the week,” He informed her once everyone signed and he walked away.

“Take care of my baby sister. Um. What he didn’t mention was that there is an account setup for her. All legit money for her to use. She has a limit on what she can spend monthly but once she turns 18 that limit disappears,” He mentioned, as he used the abandoned pen and scrap paper to write the info down.

She took the paper from him, nodding in understanding.

“I’ll take care of her, I promise. Do her a favor… don’t get yourself killed in here. She’s already lost a great deal of family… Don’t let her lose the only person she admires the most,” Steel requested as she walked away from him.

She took a deep breath of relief as she finally stepped outside of the prison and over to Marcus; she had asked for him to wait outside for her.

He drove her not to her home, but to his. The two of them spoke quietly, watching movies for the rest of the day.

At some point, Marcus figured out she was ticklish and was ruthless. She tried to squirm away from him, but he had her securely pinned to the couch. When he finally stopped, and she was able to catch her breath, her eyes locked with his.

She had one thought running through her mind and she slowly reached up to kiss him passionately. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands cupped her face. As they kissed, she experimentally rolled her hips against his. He lowly moaned into her mouth as the kiss intensified and their hands began to wander and explore.

He pulled away for them to catch their breath.

He stared at her and quietly asked, “Do… do you want… I mean… shall we move this somewhere more comfortable?”

Steel nodded and the two of them made their way into his room to finish what they had started.

In the early hours of the morning, Marcus woke to his phone buzzing quietly. He blindly reached for it as he blinked awake. He looked at his phone to see he had missed a call from Teresa. He stared at his phone confused, wondering why the hell she was contacting him.

He ignored his phone, not wanting to deal with her. He turned his attention to Steel who was passed out on his chest. He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head as he settled back down into her arms. He fell asleep hoping that the time apart wouldn’t break them. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with another heartbreak.

Over the next few weeks, Marcus and Steel spent time together while also adjusting to the new addition in their life: Valentina.

At first Valentina wasn’t… thrilled to say the least… at meeting Marcus and finding out what he meant to Steel. Valentina always believed that Steel and her brother would get back together. Valentina was at times cold or standoffish when interacting with Marcus.

However, that changed when the two of them bonded over art. Marcus was a bit of an artist himself, despite his denials that he was any good. The two of them spent hours talking about their favorite artists and painting together.

By the time Marcus was set to leave DC, Valentina was just as sad as Steel to see him leave.

He assured the both of them that 6 months will pass by faster than they’ll realize.

“I’ll call, skype, text, everyday if need be,” Marcus promised them as the two of them hugged him goodbye.

“You better,” Valentina warned him shaking her finger at him.

Marcus and Steel shared one last kiss before he left.

6 Months Later

Marcus was working undercover in DC and was on his way home from his day of work. He was trying to stifle multiple yawns as he pulled up to his house, smiling when he heard his phone ringing. He parked as he answered the video call.

“Hello, my beautiful ladies. How are we today?” He asked them as he stepped out of his car.

“We’re doing great… in fact… you should turn around handsome,” Steel’s voice teased.

He did so, spotting a car pulling up to the curb. Any exhaustion he felt immediately left him as he spotted Steel and Valentina sitting in the car that was packed with stuff.

Valentina raced out to tackle him in a hug. He grunted softly as he wrapped his arms around her, returning the embrace.

“My goodness, you’ve gotten taller, my mini-Rosa Bonheur,” Marcus said with a smile, referring to one of her favorite artists.

“Hi, we wanted to surprise you! Are you surprised?” She asked excitedly.

“Very,” He said turning his attention to Steel as she walked up to join them.

“Hey handsome,” She greeted him as she held her arms out for a hug as well.

Marcus thought about hugging her but instead hooked his fingers into her belt, jerking her forward to pull her in for a kiss.

She smiled as they kissed, having missed kissing him. She also found she really enjoyed the feel of his scruffy beard. Her hand reached up to touch it, gently scratching at the feel of it. When she broke it, she giggled softly at the tickling situation she felt.

“Hm. Could get used to this. Shall we get inside my love?” She asked motioning toward the front door.

He nodded with a grin, leading the both of them inside. He showed Valentina where her room was; he had kept the room somewhat bare simply so that way she can decorate however she wants. Valentina was excited at the prospect of decorating it how she wants but was also tired. She curled up in the bed and passed out almost immediately.

Marcus and Steel chuckled softly at that, before leaving her to sleep. Marcus led Steel to the master bedroom, presenting the empty drawers and the empty half of the walk-in closet that he had set aside for her.

“I’ve missed you,” He whispered after a moment.

Steel looked at him, noticing he looked at her with an indescribable look.

She stood in front of him, looping her arms around his neck.

“I missed you too honey. These last 6 months have been… rough. Video calls and texts were simply not enough. I hope you are ready to take me out on many real dates and spend lots of time… acting out all of those whispered promises and salacious thoughts we’ve shared,” She flirted with him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

“Very ready. I’ve hated this time apart. Honestly… I was worried… that.. that we wouldn’t…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I know. Not going to lie, I had the same fears at first. However, I realized one thing in our time apart,” She said mysteriously.

“Oh? What’s that?” He questioned curiously.

“I love you,” She revealed gazing into his eyes.

His breath caught slightly at that; he was overwhelmed with emotions as the words danced around in his ears.

He picked her up suddenly, carrying her to the bed. As he placed her on it, and moved to hover over her, he kissed her several times. After about 10 kisses he said the words back, loving the smile that shined on her face.

The both of them were too tired to do anything more, but they spent some time kissing and enjoying one another’s company.

The next day, between the movers arriving and unpacking her car, it was a long and exhausting day. It took another week for everything to be fully unpacked.

The three of them spent their free time simply enjoying one another’s company while watching movies or enjoying dinners out. It was summertime which meant no school for Valentina so Marcus spent a great deal taking them to every museum or park he could think of.

Before they knew it a year had passed, his undercover work was done. To celebrate they were going to do something he never thought he would do: get a tattoo.

He wanted something small and simple; he chose a bullseye with two circles on his wrist.

“Circles to represent the most important people in my life,” He explained as the artist prepped his skin for the tattoo.

She smiled somewhat shyly at that, as she took hold of his free hand for him to squeeze through the pain. The tattoo took about 30 minutes and Marcus definitely crushed her hand a few times, but it was worth it.

As they drove home that night, Marcus was oddly chipper as they reached their house. Valentina had become friends with the girl next door and was sleeping over with her that night, so they had the house to themselves.

Steel had wandered into the kitchen to start making dinner when Marcus stopped her.

“I’m not… I’m not very good at this. I have a pretty bad history when it comes to this but here we go,” He began as he turned her to face him. “I am so deeply in love with you. You have made my life complete. You are always so attentive to me and checking to make sure I am okay. Something… I am not used to, I will admit. I have been divorced and had the world’s shortest engagement. I haven’t been with anyone who… who loves me unconditionally. You are my sunshine. The light of my life.”

He gradually got down on one knee and simply asked, “Will you marry me?”

He presented a simple ring with a glittering sapphire as the centerpiece with smaller diamonds circling it.

She tried to bite back the grin that threatened to appear, as tears formed in her eyes. She found she couldn’t speak and nodded her head enthusiastically, holding her left hand out.

Marcus slipped the ring onto her finger, standing up to kiss her passionately.

They had found each other out of happenstance and neither of them ever thought they would reach this point. Their hearts had been broken too many times before and love appeared to be a distant dream. They knew in that moment they had found the person they were meant to be with.

Bonus Scene:

Marcus who was up before Steel the next morning was drinking coffee and making pancakes when he heard the front door open, and a set of feet rush inside.

He turned to see Valentina racing into the kitchen.

“Did she say yes!?” She asked excitedly as she ran up to him.

Marcus nodded his head laughing at the cheer she gave.

“So, the tattoo idea worked? The whole “you complete me” thing?” She questioned further.

The two of them had come up with this idea a month ago.

Marcus said, “Yes. It did. She loved it. And I now have a tattoo that I can add on to if we decided to ever give you siblings or even pets.”

She paused in her happy dance at that last line.

“Siblings? Like… I mean… are you… are you saying you see me as your kid?” She hesitantly asked.

“Thought that was obvious little one. If you would like… and we’ll talk it out with Steel but… would you be okay if we adopted you? Steel has guardianship of you, yes, but this would make it more official, if you wanted,” Marcus suggested as he finished up the pancakes.

Valentina stared at him with wide eyes, blinking owlishly. After a moment she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

He heard her lightly mumble that she’d like that, as he noticed Steel quietly step into the room, a smile on her face.

“Guess we should get on that then huh?” Steel said as she took a seat at the island.

Valentina pulled away to go give Steel a big hug as well. Marcus watched his two favorite girls talk and cry happy tears. If someone had told him 2 years ago that he would one day be engaged and about to adopt a child, he wouldn’t have believed them. This was better than anything he ever could have dreamed of and it all started because a woman with nerves of steel walked into his office.

#marcus pike x reader #the mentalist #marcus pike

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ericsonclan · 3 years ago

Text

A Sparkle Free Reveal

Summary: Louis gets Prisha to come over and watch Twilight with him and he is excited to find out whether Twilight vampires are anything like real ones.

Word Count: 2772

Read on AO3:

Louis could hardly contain his excitement as he slid across the floor in his colorful lightning socks. After countless times of asking and begging he had gotten Prisha to agree to watch Twilight with him. Of course he had told her that Violet was going to be at this special showing of the movie at his house as well, but as luck would have it Violet couldn’t make it. At least not for the first hour or so.

The werewolf’s text message said something about werewolf training or something. Louis wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. The one time he had seen the werewolf training that Violet did with Coach Garcia he only heard the older wolf talking about what was the best cut of steak. Whatever, he was sure Violet would drop by, especially since he said that Prisha would be here. Originally this was planned to be a double date but now it would be a date plus a cool vampire bro.

Louis hummed happily as he grabbed a ton of drinks and snacks. The frankenstein struggled to balance all the great treats in his arms as he wandered to the movie room. The candy shook around with each step he took and his hands were starting to dangle off as he carried the liters of soda. “Come on, old lefty and righty, we’re almost there!” Louis cheered on his hands which were struggling to hold on for dear life.

After a few moments the frankenstein found the movie room again and was able to place down the sodas, cups and candy just in time. “Phew, that was close!” Louis placed his hands on his hips and smiled proudly at the setup so far. He’d gotten a ton of blankets and pillows and the popcorn was popped and placed in cute little old timey popcorn holders. He had procured all the best snacks: candy, chips, popcorn and sodas.

Louis’ eyes widened in realization when he remembered that Prisha was a vampire. He had totally blanked and forgotten the blood packs! Though now that he thought about it, he might not have been able to get them at all. Earlier this week when he had asked his dad about how to buy blood, his father simply frowned in disgust and said he didn’t want to purchase that sort of thing. Louis was trying to think of a good solution when the doorbell rang. That must be Prisha and Clementine!

“On my way!” Louis declared loudly and tried to move his hands from his hips but as soon as he did he heard the all too familiar popping sound. With a groan Louis looked down and saw that now both of his hands were stuck on his hips. He could reattach them once he reached the fron door. For now he had to greet his guests. The frankenstein slid across the floor with lightning speed on his socks. His dreadlocks bounced around from the sudden movement and his hands flapped on his hips. Louis quickly reached the door and realized his mistake. He had no way to stop himself now. With a panicked yelp Louis ran into the side of the wall and fell on his butt. His legs flailed around and his right one popped off slightly.

“Louis! Are you okay?” Clementine asked, her tone filled with concern. She didn’t wait for an answer and opened the door. Her eyes grew large when she saw the state her boyfriend was in. Jogging over, Clementine worked to get Louis’ hands back on.

“I gotta hand it to you Clem, you sure do know how to make a guy feel special,” Louis’ smile grew when he heard the soft laughter of his girlfriend. The sound made his heart pitter patter; he was so lucky to be with Clementine. She made him feel like no other human or monster ever could.

With a small grunt, Clementine pulled Louis up onto his now fully attached foot. Louis grinned and stole a small kiss. His smile faded though when he saw Clementine pause for a moment. But it became clear as day that he had no need to worry about anything when Clementine returned the kiss. Her kisses always felt like electricity coursing through the frankenstein’s body. It was easily the best feeling in the world to Louis.

“Perhaps it would be best if I watched the movie with you another day,” Prisha’s voice made the two look over. The vampire was clearly already feeling like a third wheel.

“No! I wanted to watch Twilight with you today! Don’t worry, Vi said she would come over as soon as she could,” Louis reassured his friend. “Oh! You may enter!” he declared extra loudly and Prisha blinked, startled for a moment before laughing.

“No, Louis, it's quite alright. I’ve already entered this house before. Besides, the whole ‘a vampire has to be invited in to enter a room or building’ is complete superstition.” Prisha strolled in and looked around at the beautiful interior of the mansion. “It was propaganda that humans made to foolishly think they had the power to stop vampires from entering homes unannounced,” Prisha smiled, her fangs poking out until she saw the look in Clementine and Louis’ eyes.

“Are you a burglar in your free time, Prisha?” Louis whispered to the vampire.

“What? No! I was just- I have class and morals!” Prisha huffed and turned sharply around, causing her black cape to flutter up and dance in the wind. How she had not only agreed to watch this vampire movie but also to wear a ‘vampire’ cape was beyond Prisha. She supposed that was the power of friendship; it had been a long time since she had friends so she guessed it only made sense.

“Well, why don’t we start the movie?” Clementines suggested and slipped her hand into Louis’. The frankenstein beamed and nodded a bit too excitedly, causing the seams on his neck to loosen and his head to flop over. “I've gotcha!” Clementine caught her boyfriend’s head and popped it back in pace.

With his head resecured, Louis proudly led the way forward. He twirled Clementine around once before gushing to both girls about how happy he was to finally be able to do this. After leading the monster and human through the maze that was his house and into the movie room, Louis kissed Clementine’s cheek and scampered off to get the movie set up.

Prisha sat down and noticed the popcorn. Human food had little nutritional use for her but it was still tasty. She took a kernel and tossed it in her mouth. The buttery taste made the vampire’s fangs poke out happily. Clementine smiled at her friend’s happiness and began to get the drinks ready. She was about to prepare the blankets when Louis reappeared.

“Please, allow me, m’lady,” Louis took the blanket and dramatically tossed it in the air and let it drape over Clementine. He then slipped under the blanket and blindly searched for Clementine’s hand. After a second he found it and smiled lovingly over at his girlfriend.

The frankenstein watched the ads playing on the screen before the movie for a minute before he glanced over at Prisha. The vampire had made a nice little spot for herself and although she wasn’t expecting anything great to come from the movie she was enjoying the snacks.

“Pssst, Prisha,” Louis’ voice drew the vampire’s attention who gave him a look to acknowledge she was listening. “I forgot to get you blood packs. Sorry,” Louis’s face fell and his dreadlocks swayed a bit.

“That's quite alright. I figured that may happen so I brought some of my own,” Prisha pulled back her cape and revealed little blood pouches tucked along her belt.

“Ooo! That's good. I was worried,” Louis leaned back in his chair and smiled when Clementine kissed his hand. The frankenstein continued to watch the last few ads before the film when he remembered something else. “Oh yeah, Prisha, I got you a neat stand that looks like a cool tree branch so you can watch the movie in your bat form if you want,” Louis squirmed around to get out of his blanket cocoon to grab the stand. He made a series of victory sounds as he held up the cute little stand. Prisha’s eyes shone at the sight. It was cute and a thoughtful gesture. The vampire soon shook herself out of her wonder though. She wanted to make commentary on how much the movie would be getting wrong about vampires.

“No thank you, I’d rather stay in this form.” Prisha opened up a blood pouch and happily sipped it right as the movie started. It didn’t take long for her to make commentary. It was obvious that this interpretation of vampires was extremely inaccurate.

“Ooo! Ooo! It's their first meeting!” Louis chimed in and excitedly ate some candy. The three of them watched as Edward stared at Bella who walked in front of a fan. The vampire viciously clutched his nose as papers blew in the wind.

“What? Did he smell a fart?” Prisha’s question made both Louis and Clementine laugh.

“Nah, he just smelled Bella’s scent and it was too powerful,” Clementine commented as the scene continued.

“Well, that makes no sense. That would be more akin to a werewolf’s ability of scent.” Prisha pointed out and the frankenstein looked over at his friend.

“So you didn’t smell Violet when you first met and become overwhelmed by her blood’s scent?”

“No! I’m not a creep like this sorry excuse for a vampire! I’m refined!’ Prisha grumbled and fell back in her chair, causing her cape to fly up and fall over her face. Clementine and Louis laughed at the sight before the vampire worked to free herself from her cape.

The movie quickly continued on and the other vampires were introduced but Edward was always front and center. “Why are all of these vampires so moody? I don’t act like this, I’m not some dramatic-” Prisha looked over to see Clementine’s teasing smile. The vampire huffed and flopped back in her chair. “Whatever, my point still stands that they are too mopey.” Prisha tossed some kernels of popcorn in her mouth and washed them down with some blood. The movie continued on and Prisha started to point out more things. Why were all of the vampires sickly pale and all of them if not most were white? Prisha began to go on a small spiel about how vampires were actually created long ago and didn’t originate in Europe but in Asia. Clementine and Louis cuddled up close to each other and enjoyed the vampire’s commentary throughout the movie. The couple snuck little kisses here and there and ended up feeding each other popcorn and candy. Prisha was far too caught up in all the inaccuracies to feel like the third wheel anymore even though that was the reality of the situation.

“Oh, it's this scene. I’m sure Prish will love this one,” Clementine teased which made the vampire raise an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Prisha leaned over but Louis waved his hand.

“Shhh, shhh, you’re ruining the cinematic masterpiece of vampire storytelling,” Louis whispered over at the vampire. She couldn’t tell how serious he was being. Prisha decided not to focus on it though and returned her attention to the screen. Edward and Bella were now in the forest near the school where Edward was opening up about how dangerous he was. He listed reason after reason and Prisha fully believed he was correct in saying he wasn’t the right fit for Bella. Louis, on the other hand, was completely focused on asking Prisha questions.

“Prisha, do you have super speed?”

“No, I don’t,” Prisha responded and saw the little frown on Louis’ face.

“Is it a secret? It's a secret , right? Does Vi know about your speedy legs?”

“Lou,” Clementine gently pulled on his arm. “Enough about the super speed. Clearly Prisha won't tell us the secret. The secret that she has that ability,” Clementine joked and the vampire crossed her arms.

“I can’t believe this is what humans think vampires are like. They don’t think we’re a threat, they think we’re a joke.” Prisha slurped on a blood pouch with a pout when suddenly something on the screen made her stare at it in disbelief. Was Edward really shining now that he was in the sunlight? Before the scene could continue Clementine paused it.

“Sorry, bathroom break. Oh, I’ll also grab the leftover snacks and pop some more popcorn too,” Clementine leaned over and gave Louis a long, soft kiss before leaving.

After a minute Louis leaned over toward Prisha. “I need to ask you something important,” Louis’ eyes looked serious so Prisha turned her full attention to the conversation.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Do you sparkle in the sunlight? Or in general?” Louis gave an excited gasp. “Can you sparkle on command? Show me your sparkly powers, my wise vampire confidant!”

Prisha had had it. Without warning she abruptly stood up. “I am nothing like those vampires! I have no special sparkle power! Observe!” Prisha took the hem of her shirt and lifted it up to stomach, flapping the shirt again and again and again. “Does it look like I’m sparkling, Louis? Am I sparkling now? I have no spark-”

“Shit! Sorry I arrived so late! Werewolf-” Violet paused as she stood in the doorway. Her eyes were focused on Prisha’s toned stomach and she felt her face growing hot. The werewolf now had a deep blush on her face and as Prisha noticed her girlfriend had arrived she wasn’t doing much better. The vampire slowly let go off her shirt, causing it to fall back down and cover her stomach. The two stood in silence, both of them overwhelmed by what happened.

“Hey, bestie! You arrived at the perfect time!” Louis wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“Louis!” Violet sent her best friend a look but her tail was still wagging just as wildly as it had been a few seconds ago. After a few seconds she noticed what Prisha was wearing. “Why are you in a cape?”

Prisha glanced down and felt her embarrassment grow. “I was told to look like a cool vampire,” She fidgeted with her braid; she was looking like an utter fool in front of Violet.

“I think you look cool,” Violet’s words made Prisha look up at her girlfriend. Her fangs immediately poked out as she smiled. Walking forward, Prisha used her cape and wrapped Violet in a hug. The werewolf’s ears were perked and her tail wagged ecstatically under the cape, causing it to flutter this way and that.

Soon Clementine had returned with the snacks and the movie resumed. Prisha seemed to calm down on her commentary now that Violet was here. Instead the vampire focused on showing affection to her girlfriend as they watched the movie. That didn’t stop funny comparisons between Prisha and the movie vampires from continuing. Many of the group’s favorite quirks about Prisha weren’t present in Twilight at all, like how she made cute bat-like sounds whenever she was gifted a blood pouch or how she got emotional over stories about bats. The four of them all enjoyed the movie though, even if it wasn’t the most accurate interpretation of vampires.

Clementine ended up falling asleep near the end of the movie, her head resting on Louis’ shoulder who kissed it before resting his own on top of hers. Soon the movie was done but neither couple wanted to move. Clementine was still asleep on Louis’ shoulder and Violet had ended up making a comfy little spot in Prisha’s arms.

“So… not a bad movie, huh?” Louis smiled over at the vampire.

“It was alright. It had its funny moments,” Prisha responded positively which made the frankenstein beam.

“Great! Because I have so many more vampire movies to watch with you! Whatcha say, you in?” Louis moved a bit too quickly, nearly waking Clementine but with a few quick kisses she fell asleep again.

Prisha pondered the offer for a minute. Sure, the movie wasn’t accurate but no human’s interpretation of a vampire ever had been. Besides, it turned out to be a fun double date. “Alright.”

“Awesome, because I found one with a vampire who has hair shaped like a butt!” Louis grinned.

“What?”

“Oh, but first we have three or four more Twilight movies to watch,” Louis’ statement made Prisha’s eyes grow large.

What had she just agreed to?

#twdg #twdg louis #twdg clementine #twdg violet #twdg prisha #clouis #twdg privet #fanfic #we are monsters we are proud au

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gabbrolet · 4 years ago

Text

He Cries In Front of You For The First Time (Hyung Line)

P.S, This is a pretty long scenario!

WARNING!: Mentions of anxiety attacks!

Kim Seokjin

You had woken up to the other side of the bed being empty. As the usual warmth of your partner was nowhere to be found, the cold temperature of the room had started to get to you, making your shoulders begin to shake. This wasn't normal...

As you looked over to the neon red digits on the night-stand, you furrowed your eyebrows in concern.

2:56 A.M

He didn't mention if he was going to stay late at his studio today, so where was he? Even if he were to be staying in his office, he should have been home by now.

So, with that thought in mind, you quickly kicked the heavy sheets off of you before putting on your slippers and opening the door to the hallway. The first thing you heard was the sound of Treadmill, it seemed as though it was on a high setting.

Why would he be working out at this hour? you thought as you jogged down the stairs and stopped at the front of the fitness room.

There he was, gripping on tightly to the two handlebars with his smooth hands, his breaths fast-paced and strained. His hair was slicked back as it glistened with sweat from the light above you two.

"Jin?"

His breathing froze as he rapidly started lowering the speed on the machine until it stopped. When the Treadmill was finally finished moving, Jin stood there, staring only in front of him.

You were about to call out to him once more but stopped yourself before you could speak. His fast-paced breaths weren't from the workout, but from him crying. He...was really, crying...

You jogged up to him and pulled him off the Treadmill and hugged him tightly, as you move one of your hands on his back in circles in an attempt to comfort him.

"I'm sorry. Its j-just, the man-manager gave me and the others a week to lose a small p-portion of weight. B-but tomorrows the last day and, and, I didn't e-even lose one po-poun-d." He shoved his face into your neck as he began to wail.

His hands bunched up the material of your shirt as your shoulder began to feel wet. His back jolted up in a messy pattern with his loud gasps and hiccups for breath. It surprised you, of course, you had never seen Jin so vulnerable before.

"Hey, hey its okay baby. How about we leave this for tomorrow hm? I can work out with you too if you want." You gently whispered into his ear as you kissed his trembling shoulder.

He lifted his head and looked down at you with puffy red eyes, tears were still rolling down his face as he sniffled.

"Y-yes ple-please."

With that, you lead your boyfriend back to your shared bedroom as you then slept peacefully in each other's arms.

Min Yoongi

The day had started calm and quiet. Nothing, in particular, had caught your interest, resulting in you roaming about the silent and empty house sluggishly. All you had done today was, cook a small breakfast of bacon and eggs, watch Netflix on your couch, take a quick nap, and take a quick shower.

Yoongi had stayed over-night at Namjoon’s place, along with J-hope, leaving you alone in the morning. You weren’t angry though, as your boyfriend had informed you of the other house before he left the next day. You had, of course, tried to convince him to either go another day or have you tag along with him, but he wasn’t one to budge so easily.

So, here you were, sprawled out over your bed, wearing only your underwear and your boyfriend’s shirt. The comforter felt cold against your skin, but you had no other way to keep yourself warm. The sheet itself was extremely messy as half of it was hanging off the bed, collecting dust as it dragged on the floor.

Sighing, you look over your arm towards the window. The sky had started to become a variety of colors, ranging from reds and oranges to blues and dark purples. The colors blended beautifully, causing you to jump up and grab your sketchbook from the nearby night-stand.

You grabbed a nearby blanket and laid it over the surface of some of the lamented wood on the ground. You smacked it with your hand a bit to get it leveled out and comfy before sitting down with a thump. You flipped to a blank page before getting to work. You drew the houses nearby along with a few trees. You roughly shaded the sky to add in detail.

Although when you finished, you looked down at your sketch and began to laugh. It was extremely messy and hard to look at but, you understood it, and you only needed the memory of the scene before you as you were going to complete the drawing later.

Just as you were about to get up and clean up your little setup, you heard the front door open. You jumped, surprised at the sound, before getting back to cleaning, Yoongi would probably come up the stairs looking for you.

And you were correct, with heavy footsteps, you heard him slowly make his way up the stairs. The floorboards creaked as he walked towards your shared bedroom. You could hear him sighing as he continued.

Maybe he's tired...

When he finally made it to the bedroom, he stopped in the door-frame, looking for you with squinted eyes within the dim light. He looked over towards the window, breathing out a puff of air before sluggishly moving towards you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist silently while burying his head in your neck. Yoongi grabbed one of your hands, bringing it up to his face to caress it. His face showed a brief moment of relief before cramping up again.

“Hey Yoonie, how was your nigh-”

You cut yourself off when you felt wet drops rolling onto your hand, accompanying the feeling of your boyfriend’s scrunched up face.

You whipped around, turning to look at your boyfriend but found it difficult, he was trying to avoid your eyes. He turned his head, but you could still see him roughly biting his lip, an indicator that was most likely going to breakdown soon.

You brought your hand up to his face, grabbing his chin and gently turning it towards you.

“Oh Sugar, what happened?” Your eyes were filled with sympathy as your eyebrows turned slightly upwards.

“I, we, I just-,” he clasped his hand over his mouth as he crouched to the ground, curling into himself.

He wasn’t loud, no, not at all it was as if he had muted himself somehow, the only things you could hear from him were the spontaneous gasps and hiccups that fell from his mouth.

You tapped his shoulder and pulled on it lightly, encouraging him to get up and lay with you on the bed. He stood up and slowly crawled onto the mattress, proceeding to flop on his side. When you laid down next to him, he moved up closer to you shoving his head into your chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You weren’t sure what had happened, but you knew that you’d both talk about it tomorrow. As, for the time being, you hugged him back, whispering sweet nothings into his ears until he fell asleep.

Which didn’t take very long...

Jung Hoseok

When you realized that J-hope was late for dinner, you knew something was wrong. He always made sure to come home from the dance studio on time, and even if he came home late, it’d only be the max, about 10 minutes. But it had now been an hour, and you were starting to get worried.

You covered both your dinners with a paper plate before going to the couch and turning on the TV. You grabbed your phone frowning, you had sent him over 15 texts by now. Each one saying a slightly different message like, ‘Sunshine where are you?’ or ‘Are you okay? Why aren’t you responding?.’

You felt a cold sweat run over your body,

Was he hurt?

Had you done something wrong?

Where is he?

You breathed in deeply in an attempt to calm yourself down, maybe his phone died! Yes, that could be a reasonable possibility, it has happened before.

Still a bit tense, you turned your phone to vibrate before setting it down beside you on the comfy couch. You grabbed the Mang plush from the side of the couch before laying back.

It wasn’t too long before you felt your phone begin to vibrate. You jolted up, cursing under your breath as your phone bounced off the couch, onto the floor.

Snatching it from the ground, you looked at the caller ID. It was Jimin, specifically hosting a face-time as you saw his chin above the phone’s camera before you answered.

“Hello?,” Jimin’s face snapped down in an instant, his eyes staring at your face through the phone screen.

“Yah! Y/N, I need your help! Hobi hyung told me to call you!” His face contorted into one of concern when he looked away from the phone and focused on something.

Your throat closed up, what could be the emergency? Was Hoseok okay?

“What happened!? Is he okay?!” You slightly rose your voice at the phone in your hand, you were starting to get scared.

Hoseok only rarely got into trouble, and when he did he would take it face first and deal with the situation with the best of his abilities. So if he was in desperate need of your presence, that means he's struggling.

You asked Jimin to hand the phone over to your boyfriend before widening your eyes,

“Sunshine what happened?” you cooed.

He was wiping at his eyes repetitively, causing them to become red and agitated. His eyes were a colored red as tears streamed down his face. He occasionally sniffled, trying to voice words to finally talk to you. But, his mouth automatically closed whenever he tried to open it. Just then, Jimin’s face popped up next to Hoseok’s.

“What he wants to say is that, well... We were practicing later than the rest of the members for a new performance that’s coming up next month. But, hyung has been training the most out of everybody, and, I think he got too stressed,” Jimin finished. He then patted Hobi’s shoulder before going out of the camera’s view.

You looked back at your boyfriend, his tears had slowed down but were still running down his face. His expression was more relaxed now as he stared at you through the phone, waiting for you to speak.

“How about you come home okay? We can go to sleep and relax when we get here, I even made your favorite!” His eyes lit up when you mentioned the dinner you made earlier. But, you could see that he was about to open his mouth again,

“Yes, there’s sprite as well.”

He flashed his signature heart-shaped smile, chuckling a bit as he forgot all about his stress,

“Th-thanks Jagiya, I’ll be home in a couple of minutes.”

Kim Namjoon

You felt all the air leave your lungs when someone flopped on top of you. The couch cried out as your body was forcefully smashed into it.

“Hey! What was that for!?”

You struggled to look behind you, as your hand smacked at the leg of the person on top of you.

“Namjoon!,” you scolded while you tried to shake him off of you.

Usually, he would have rolled off of you by now and showed you his smile as he laughed on the floor. So, what made him act so differently now?

You went silent as you realized that he’d tell you what's wrong when he's ready. So, you took this time to contemplate what could have happened.

Well, this morning he seemed fine, as he gave you the usual morning kiss and compliments before leaving to go to Big Hit’s Company building to work on his songs.

He called you at 4:00 P.M like any other day, mostly talking about how he missed you even though he sees you every day.

He sent you the normal text as well, asking if you were okay in the house by yourself and if you had eaten yet.

Lastly, he had come home at the routinely 7:30, the only thing different this time was his mood.

Suddenly you felt the weight on your back being lifted off of you, followed by the sound of a thud on the floor.

Looking over your shoulder, you could see Namjoon staring down at the soft rug of your living room floor. His posture was hunched over, his legs crossed in an uncomfortable position. His elbows dug into his lap as his hands covered his face and became tangled within his hair.

“Joonie? What's wrong baby?” you gently spoke out, but Namjoon didn’t seem to respond.

“Namjoon,” you said in a louder voice in hopes of gaining his attention. He didn’t respond this time either.

You slowly slid off the couch to sit in the spot next to your boyfriend. You slightly cringed at the friction the couch had against your legs as you moved but ignored it and proceeded to plop onto the ground.

You nudged Namjoon’s shoulder in an attempt to get his attention, but it was as if he was in a different universe where he couldn’t see you.

Growing more and more worried by the moment, you decided to try and pull down his hands from his face for him to notice your presence. So, you gradually caressed his large hands, maneuvering them so that your fingers were weaved in with his. But you gasped when you saw the state he was in.

He was breathing rapidly, his eyes were wide and trained on the floor, his hands shook violently within yours as you tried to steady them. Namjoon looked at you, his mouth wasn’t moving and instead hung open to let the air around him fill in his lungs. Although, his eyes were begging for help.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, breath for me all right?” you said as you brought him in for a tight hug.

It wasn’t long before his breathing had slowed down a bit but it didn’t go back to normal.

From the placement of his head on your shoulder you began to feel him shake and jolt in an irregular pattern. A growing patch of moisture grew on your shoulder while he began to hiccup and gasp. You could tell that he was trying to hold back his tears with every forceful breath he took.

“Mi-mianhae Y/n, I’ve j-just been str-stressed out late-ly.” He whimpered into your ear.

You immediately shushed him, reassuring him that there was nothing for him to be sorry for. Your speech seemed to have caused his sobbing to go down a couple of notches as he now only shook in your grasp, sniffling every couple of seconds.

It was quiet in the large house as you pondered on what you could do to make your significant other feel better at this time.

And that’s when it hit you.

“Baby?,” He hummed and turned his head towards you on your shoulder,

“Do you want to go to the beach tomorrow? And yes, we can go looking for crabs.”

He was already smiling when you had offered him the adventure to the beach, but after you had mentioned that you’d go searching for crabs with him he let out a chuckle.

Namjoon gave his signature smile to you, showcasing his dimples before speaking,

“Yeah, I’d, love to.”

#kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #bts #bts jin #bts suga #bts namjoon #bts j-hope #j-hope #i suck at this #im not good at tags

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classified-bluerose · 5 years ago

Text

put me back together - quentin beck x reader

a/n: (mild) spiderman: ffh spoilers ahead. probably a very OOC quentin but hey... the man got me clownin’.

quick notes: reader is an avenger, quentin is quentin, this is far too soft tbfh but it’s fanfiction so \_(0-0)_/. just suspend your belief & hope u enjoy!

a/n 2: unedited, unbeta’d. idk man. i’m just in love w jake gyllenhaal (gylenhaal?) and mysterio is hot as hell.

(GIF is not mine)

—

chapter one: breathless

—

quentin beck is a meticulous man - he planned every facet of his revenge plot down to the smallest of details. arranged contingencies and back-up plans and waited, with the patience of a saint, for the correct moment to strike. he ensured any and all top-tier avengers were MIA, left it just long enough for SHIELD to pull together some semblance of it’s former operation but short enough so they were still finding their feet in the aftermath of the Blip. getting around the kid, parker, would be easy enough. he’d been through a tremendous amount of trauma, and quentin could use that to his advantage.

the one thing quentin beck didn’t count on, though, was you.

you, an avenger - or a former avenger, at least - who fell somewhere in the middle of all the others. not by power level, simply by how known you were. the widow and the hawk were rarely spotted and little was known about either, whilst iron man and captain america owned the heart and soul of the entire nation. banner was known for his destructive capabilities and thor worshipped for his literal godliness and appearance.

how shallow the common folk can be, quentin always mused.

then you - powerful, but not plastered across billboards or tv ads. quiet and lowkey, but not quite invisible. quentin was aware of your existence but never paid much attention to it, having heard that, following stark and roger’s deats that you’d quit the superhero charade and disappeared into the ether.

so, the man of mysteries found himself more than a little surprised when fury showed up mexico, with you in tow.

a little bit of panic hits as he watches you appraise the scene - this could be a problem, he thinks to himself, scanning his brain for any possible solution. it is only when he begins to interact with the shield agents that he notices something.

although you are standing in his presence, alive, solid, real, it‘s pretty obvious you aren’t exactly there. haunted images flicker across an otherwise stoic face as shoulders bow from the weight of grief and guilt and trauma. glassy eyes stare through and not at, words mumbled in montone in response to fury.

okay, quentin thinks, hiding a smirk, i can work with this.

—

the plan changes ever-so-slightly before venice. it is simple but brilliant, even if he does say so himself. having already laid the groundwork for his tragic backstory, it is easy to weave your character into the tapestry he was creating.

pained glances, longing expressions, a hesistant greeting - all little, subtle clues hinting to the fact that quentin knew you in his alternate world.

fury picks up on it first, of course. the spy who’s secrets have secrets still has the eye for detail he’s famous for. you, on the other hand, are oblivious to quentin’s actions - obvlious to pretty much anything happening around you. you don’t speak unless directly spoken too, don’t offer insight or advice on how to defeat the elementals. it‘s almost like fury has dragged you here in a bid to convince you to return to the fold.

quentin learns as much as he can about you as he flies over the sea to italy; not much could be gleaned from online sources but he pulls out just enough information to put together a rough sketch of who you are, what you wanted, what you’d lost.

you’d worked with the avengers since 2012, sided with stark in the infamous civil war years later - the idea of you being close to that man was enough to set quentin’s blood boiling - and had fought in both battles against the mad titan thanos. your powers were certainly impressive - your ability to conjure and manipulate fire set off a fresh worry. the final elemental that mysterio would face off against was the one made of ‘’flames’’ - what if you decided your powers would help with the destruction of the molten man?

quentin files that thought away for later as he clicks on a rare picture printed on some trendy news site. he almost doesn’t recognise the girl in the photograph as you. you were younger, looked lighter, did not carry as many ghosts on your back. and you were smiling. wide and bright and shining and quentin struggled to pull himself away from the sight.

when he did, he itemised the information he’d gathered into what he could and couldn’t use to win you over. after all, every superhero needs a love interest to protect, right?

you were close to stark, that much was painfully, bitterly obvious. newsreports following the aftermath of the last battle hinted at an intimate relationship with the black widow, too. both those people were dead and gone and that meant there was something missing in her life. an empty space that quentin was certain he could fill. the battle had caused some damage to your powers - almost like a battery, the effort and strain of fighting thanos had drained your energy quite significantly. you were slowly returning to your original state, but right now you were weakened, hurting. vulnerable.

perfect for quentin.

he gathered his information, updated the team on this latest development, and braced himself for what would come next.

—

when he reaches venice, it’s clear that fury has mentioned to you that quentin has taken an interest. you seem slightly more alert, meeting his gaze for periods longer than a half-second. your body language changes minutely - your arms, usually crossed tight across your chest, now hang looser at your waist, fingers interlaced. it is by no means a huge shift, but enough for quentin to make his move.

after a meeting with agents, fury, and spiderman, he hangs around the base setup, lingering at consoles and waiting for the last of the people to trickle out. you have stayed on to keep an eye on quentin - fury is no fool and recognised that this stranger from some other world could turn out to be just as much a threat as the monsters he was fighting. quentin couldn’t surpress a smile as he thought, oh, you don’t know the half of it.

he quickly rearranges his face when he clears his throat and approaches you, slowly. you glance up. he took his time to savour this moment - this scene he was most excited for.

he smiles, softly. ‘’ hey. i was hoping i’d a get a chance to talk to you. ‘’

no verbal response; you simply gaze at him expectantly.

quentin let his eyes take in every inch of your face - not a hardship, in fairness, you were beautiful in every way to him. if any other world really did exist she’s the girl he’d approach at a bar and offer to buy her a drink.

focus, quentin, he reminds himself, and breathes out a short laugh. ‘’ it’s so good to see you. ‘’

again, no real answer. just a tilt of the head, confusion in the eyes.

he let his fingers fall to the simple silver band on his left finger, twisting the metal around. your gaze follows the movements and there’s a brief moment where quentin swears he can see the cogs turning in your brain.

the blank expression breaks - a frown furrowing your brow, lips parting in a silent ‘’oh’’. excitement brims low in his belly - it’s working. she’s already figured it out.

you take a breath and turn your head away. when you look back, your face is neutral once again. but there’s something there - a softness that’s new. a tiny chink in the armour, all that quentin needs.

‘’ i’m sorry for your loss, ‘’ you tell him, ‘’ but i’m not her. ‘’

he nods quickly, ‘’ i know, i know. it’s just ... you look like her. ‘’ he falters in his words and feels tears building behind his eyes. seeing his watery gaze you clam up and he curses himself for getting too into it. after a second, however...

‘’ i know how it feels. to lose the one you love. to feel like it’s your fault, like you could’ve - should have - saved them, ‘’ you sigh and rub your face, tiredly. ‘’ but that’s not gonna help you save this world, quentin. ‘’

the sound of your name leaving his lips sends a tremor through his heart. he freezes momentarily - what is this feeling? - but quickly shakes out of it as you continue.

‘’ you gotta move on, ‘’ your voice is nothing more than a whisper, ‘’ you have a chance, now, to win, and you can’t let bad feelings ruin it. ‘’

you meet his gaze almost shyly, and he feels physically drawn in to you, doesn’t even realise his feet are moving until he’s barely a breath away. startled by the sudden closeness you take a step back and harden your features once again.

quentin apologises, sounding sincere, ‘’ i didn’t realise ... you’re not like her, not entirely. she was ... she didn’t have powers. ‘’ he lets the ghost of a fake memory flutter across his face. ‘’ but she was still the strongest person i knew. ‘’ his voice splinters on the last word and tears slip down his face.

you hesistate, he senses the uncertainty, and moves to turn away as though ashamed.

his stomach does a victory flip when your hand comes to touch his armoured shoulder. from underneath long, damp lashes he peeks down at you. you look as though you’re hurting for him and something harsh twists in his chest. he doesn’t have time to think about it, though. not when your hand slides down the material of his costume and finds it’s way into his.

you squeeze it gently, the unnatural warmth of your skin almost burning against his palm. quentin finds himself feeling comforted, tries to climb out of the moment and remember that this isn’t real -

he slips a little bit when you squeeze his hand a second time, and say, ‘’ just make her proud, quentin. you can save this world. do it for her. ‘’

his breath leaves him and he’s silent for a long moment as he gazes down at your face. he feels cracked open, raw, vulnerable. eventually, he nods, waits for his voice to even out. squeezes your hand back, a little tighter than necessary.

‘’ i’ll do my best. ‘’

|| Part 1 of ? ||

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chaniters · 6 years ago

Text

Revealed

Thanks @kissingagrumpygiant for lending me Ana Basri! Your art’s so fking EPIC!

(It was sooooo hard to find a title for this, all I could think of was Detective Pikachu!!!!)

_______________________________________

You knock on the door and stand back checking your cellphone as you wait. There are no new messages as usual. That's good.

He's the only one who has this number.

The message seemed quite urgent... "Please come by to my place tonight, we need to talk"

You're not sure what this is about, but you're not liking it one bit. Typically it's him pestering you for a little while until you crack and agree to meet.

But this message... he used "please". No flirting, no funny emojis, no bribe or boast.

That's not how he does things, he enjoys the power-play far too much. Something's not right...

The door open, and there he is, with a smile that seems a bit too forced dressed just a bit too casual... He's not trying to impress you.

"Ana... please, come in" He motions you to the living room, before disappearing and bringing drinks

"What's the matter?" You ask as soon as he gets back. This is starting to get on your nerves.

"I'm not sure how to say this but..."

"But what?" you ask impatiently.

"I know, Ana"

"You know What?"

"I mean... I KNOW" he says looking straight into your eyes.

It takes a few seconds for the whole sentence to down into your system.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say with a fake clueless smile. This isn't happening. It's just a setup... he can't possibly know...

"Ana I just want to help you..."

"I don't need your help Ricardo... and I still don't know what you mean" you cross your arms and look deep into him. Let him show his cards before you draw yours.

"You're not going to admit it to the very end, right?" he asked looking hurt

"There's nothing to admit. And I don't like this game... if this is why you called me..." You stand up and take your coat to leave.

"I followed Eden," he says.

"Should I know that person?" Your answer is almost automatical. Like you were trained to. Keep the flow. He will never catch you stuttering...

"That's how I met you at that bar... I was waiting for him to appear and instead, you did... back from the dead"

That gives you pause. He was spying on Eden before he found out you were alive?

"I know whom he works for... I followed him many times. I know he lives under your own apartment, Ana... "

This can't be happening...

"You're spying on a neighbor?"

He sighs exasperated.

"Drop the act... I know you are Puppet Master"

The words are like a hammer shattering the world you've built around yourself to feel safe.

He walks closer to you. "I can help you... I can..."

He extends a hand...

"NO!" you scream, pushing him back with all your strength. "Stay away from me!"

He stumbles as you take several steps back, trying to remember which way was the door... If only this was his old house!

"I can't help you if you won't let me!"

"I don't need your help!" You say heading for the corridor. THere's the door...

He takes your arm. "I'm sorry... But I can't let you go. Not like this!"

Panic.

Your free hand goes into a fist and connects with his face before you even know what you're doing.

Knuckles connect directly with his nose, but he doesn't let go. You try to hit him again and again, but he manages to get a hold of your wrist.

You scream in frustration showing him your teeth and trying to shake him off, but he pins you down against a wall instead, your arms held above your head.

His nose is bleeding, but he won't let go.

"STOP THAT!" he yells at you.

Of course, you don't do that. You try to struggle as hard as possible. Kick him... but he only draws closer, using his whole body to keep you pinned down.

"Stop it" he speaks a second time a bit more calmly. "Can't we at least try to talk about this?"

Your struggle becomes weaker as it becomes obvious he's not going to move. Without your armor, his mods have easily decided this fight. You're trapped.

"THere's nothing to talk about," you say looking away from him.

"Nothing to... ANA! I'm Telling you, I want to FUCKING HELP YOU!"

"Oh yeah? And how in the hell are you going to do that?" you yell back.

"I... I know they're using you! I know it's all part of their plan... If you help us, we can finish this... and you'll be free. She won’t control you anymore!"

Now, this is turning bizarre.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I know Hollow Ground's forcing you to do this! Making you turn against us... I just don't understand how..."

You give him a blank stare... he thinks Hollow Ground is...

You can't help it... you burst into laughter... which only makes him more agitated.

"Why are you laughing? Let me fucking help you! I can't let her keep using you! I want to get back my friend..."

"Hahaha.. ha... oh wow.. this... this is rich..."

"Stop mocking me already!"

"I'm not mocking you... it's just... Hollow Ground has nothing to do with it"

"I know she does! Eden always works making contacts at places she owns... that's where he met that scientist... and he lives under you. I know he's there to keep an eye on you and make sure you follow her orders... THat's why I've been spying on him.. befriending him. I’m going to get you free of Hollow Ground!"

So that's why he ended up training with Eden all this time?... You can't help the laughter again... really...

It’s impressive. If he followed him for that long without you knowing, then that means Detective Charge actually gathered a huge pile of evidence, lied to you about it all along not to tip you on his findings...

...and then drew entirely wrong conclusions out of it all.

"You're not going to admit it, then?"

"You only got one part of this whole fantasy right amigo... I AM the Puppet Master. But I am NOT Hollow Ground's bitch. I'm my own person."

“What…?”

“The question is… what are you going to do about it…?” you ask, your voice subtly changing back into puppet master’s tone. Even without the distorter, he knows you well enough to realize it. “Still going to help me?” you ask with a cruel smile. It’s not fair for him… but since when has anything been fair to you?

“Are you trying to protect her? Just tell me what she’s got over you! Is she holding someone hostage? What did she do to you?! Just tell me, please!” there’s desperation in his eyes. He thinks he’s so close to his answers. And he is, just not the answers he expects.

“Always ready to blame Hollow Ground for everything since she killed your second dad, aren't you?” Fuck. Too hurtful… .You wish you hadn’t said that the moment it comes off your mouth.

He gives you an angry stare, before going on “Look, I already know she’s behind this so…”

“SHE’S GOT NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING!” you blurt out.

“THEN WHO’S EDEN?! WHAT’S HIS ROLE?”

You could lie… tell him a thousand different things… You’ve been trained for it. Maybe he would even believe some of them

But you can see the end of the road from here. You’re not running from it this time.

“He’s just another puppet, Ricardo. That’s how I see everyone these days”

“A pu… ? Como quieres que te crea eso?” he turns to spanish. Perhaps he thinks you can’t lie in spanish?

“Me vas a soltar en algún momento? Or is this just turning you on?” You smile looking at his hands holding your wrists against the wall, his chest pushing against your own… you’re so close...

“If I do that you’re going to run away! It’s what you always do…”

“I won’t… You have my word, for what it’s worth” you say with a smug smile.

He looks down for a brief moment before releasing your wrists and pulling back “Fuck…ok.. but don’t you DARE run!”

“Told you I wouldn’t”

“Alright if it wasn’t Hollow Ground... then who captured you?! You never spoke about your past!”

“You really have no idea…”

“And why didn't you look for me after you escaped?"

"Oh, so it's my fault for not running into your arms? I don't think so. It was you who abandoned me, remember? You let me there to rot!!!"

“Where? Who took you? Make some fucking sense already!”

“The people you work for… they’re the ones who took me, hero”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You should know better than anyone… Your own father gave you up to them, and they’ve been pulling your strings ever since”

“Leave my family out of this!” He bursts in anger

“THe government owns you Ricardo. Just like they own me. The only difference is I escaped”

“I told you to make sense already? Or do I have to keep guessing? Is it all a game to you?”

“No. No more games…”

He’s just so angry… so confused… you’ve never seen him like this.

“Ana, I…” he looks right into your eyes “I fucking love you! I’d do anything for you! Just tell me what’s wrong! I don’t know what else to do...”

“You ... “ your voice breaks for a brief second... “ You can’t love me. You don’t know what you’re talking about”

“But I do!”

“No… you can’t. And I’ll show you why”. No. No, don’t do this. No no no no…

You start to take off your shirt and the nanomesh underneath… This is madness. Why won’t you stop?

“What are you doing?”

It finally comes off… exposing your skin. Letting him see the ugly truth. The orange lines tracing your skin everywhere. The scars inflicted by your torturers

“What are those?”

“You asked me to tell you what’s wrong. Well… what if I told you just about everything is?”

“You mean you’re...?” He’s having trouble finishing his sentences right now...

You nod. The tears are coming already. You cross your arms protectively over your chest, but that only exposes a new set of tattoos going all over them.

“So you see? You can’t love me. I’m not real Ricardo. I never was”

“You’re one of those…” He stops short of saying it. But you know what he meant. He thinks you’re one of those things.

He goes silent.

He just keeps staring… saying nothing.

You can’t read his mind… You can’t hear his words. Only see his eyes, judging you. You always knew what he thought of regenes.

This was all a mistake… a huge mistake. Now that he knows… What is he going to do? He can’t accept this. You fooled him all along. You pretended to be human and he fell in love with you. And now you’ve ripped all that apart.

He gives a step towards you… he’s about to say something…

NO! You won’t let him judge you. Nor him, nor anyone else. And you’re not going back to the farm ever again…

He extends a hand to your arm and…

THere’s your chance. You send a sudden headbutt into his bloody nose like your training tells you to. He’s caught completely off guard, making him pull back.

You push your way through and rush to the couch, getting your coat again, pulling if over your shirtless self, and you run.

Run to the door…

“Stop!” you hear him cry out, holding his nose. “Please don’t leave me. You gave me your word, remember?

Your fingers go white as they grip the handle with all your strength, turning it…

...until you let go.

Running won’t help. It’s all in the open now.

Time to face consequences...

_________________________________________

You lay down on the couch. He sits rights besides you.

Both of you stay there the longest time. Your mind is racing a thousand thoughts per second. You just wish he said something. Anything... the silence is deafening.

“Alright... Alright then” he says in the end. “Where do we go from here?” he asks.

“I don’t know? And you said WE or am I hearing things?”

“Of course I said we” he looks at you. He looks hurt and shocked, and afraid… but there’s no doubt in him. “I mean WE need to find a way to solve this”

“What if it can’t be solved?”

“Then I guess we’re going to have to make a mess out of it?” he smiles weakly.

“I guessed I already started? I messed you up... twice now...” You say apologetically

“Oh this?” he motions at his bloodened face “This is just a regular workday for me, you know it!”

“Let me help you clean those”

“If you feel like it”

You head to the bathroom and then come back carrying a wet towel and some antiseptic. He buys the best brand... just like you.

“I’m sorry,” you say cleaning the blood.

“Ouch” he lets out flinching as you gently clean the stains over his face.

“Just stay still…”

He takes a hand to your cheek… his fingers clearing some of your tears.

“It’s ok” he speaks softly.

“I keep doing this….” you smile bitterly.

“Doing what?”

“Hurting you.”

“Yes, we really need to work on that cariño…”

He leans in…

“I haven’t finishe….”

It’s a clumsy kiss. His face’s still in pain…

But he’s kissing you.

He knows.

He knows what you are and he’s still kissing you.

Only one way to go now…

You kiss him back.

“Ooouch!” he lets out as you press your lips against his perhaps a bit too forcefully.

“SORRY!”

_____________________

My Fanfics: https://chaniters.tumblr.com/post/181692759294/my-fanfiction-for-fallen-hero

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fan fiction using characters and the setting of the Fallen Hero: Rebirth and upcoming Fallen Hero: Retribution games written by Malin Riden. I do not claim ownership of any characters from the Fallen Hero wold. These stories are a work of my imagination, and I do not ascribe them to the official story canon. These works are intended for entertainment outside the official storyline owned by the author. I am not profiting financially from the creation of these stories, and thank the author for her wonderful game/s, without which these works would not exist.

#fallen hero: rebirth #Ana Basri #Fanfiction #Reveal

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owlways-and-forever · 6 years ago

Text

Master of the Blush

A/N: This is a little one-shot for the Houses Competition, which is happening over on FFnet. Because I like consistency, I’ll be posting all of my pieces on FFnet & ao3 as well, so if you prefer those platforms, feel free to hit me up there. No other notes, just enjoy!

Round: 2 Theme: Muggles, Friend or Foe? Type: Standard (950-2000 words) | Word Count: 1925 Prompt: "How come we have to do it this way?” Summary: Four individuals must compete to master a task set to them by the taskmaster - make the Slytherin blush. Links: FFnet | ao3

“Welcome back to Taskmaster! Let’s get cracking with part four!” Albus announced, perched atop his golden throne. “Severus, can we have a score update, please?”

“As you like,” he answered, completely deadpan. Somehow, he looked incredibly foolish sitting upon his tiny golden chair, dwarfed by Albus’ magnificent setup. “Tied for joint last place with eight points, we have the dunce duo, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley! Happily or not, ahead of her brother, but only by two points, we have Ginny Weasley! And currently in first place, we have the logical lioness, Miss Hermione Granger!”

“And do we have another task for these lovely folks?” Albus asked, sounding like some sort of evil puppet master ready to make his minions dance.

“We certainly do,” Severus sneered, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Let’s take a look.”

The Taskmaster theme song played, snippets of Albus and Severus dancing by on the screen behind them. A moment later, it ended, and the camera cut to the Taskmaster house and the little lab within. A pale, blond-haired man sat at the table, sour expression on his face, and an envelope rested atop the cool metal surface, waiting to be opened.

* * * * *

Ginny marched into the room, nearly tearing down the plastic curtains around the lab, snatching up the envelope and hopping up onto the table.

“Make the Slytherin person blush,” she read aloud, swinging her feet slightly. “You have five minutes. Your time starts now.”

She sat and considered for a moment, her head cocked to the side as she thought, but it wasn’t long before Ginny had formed a plan of attack.

“Right, could you please flip yourself upside down on the chair?” she asked the stranger, motioning with her hands to demonstrate what she wanted. “Legs up over the back and head hanging down.”

Ginny swung her feet idly, watching the time tick by on the clock. From within her jacket, she pulled out a little bag filled with nuts, and began snacking on them happily.

Severus blew the whistle when five minutes had passed, and the man in the chair righted himself, an immense sense of relief crossing his scarlet visage.

Ginny flashed Severus a thumbs up, saluting to the stranger before promptly exiting the lab, grinning with success.

* * * * *

Hermione tentatively pushed aside the plastic sheets, peering through. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the blond man and the envelope, but she ignored him for the moment and snatched up the envelope, her eyes scanning back and forth rapidly.

“Out loud, please,” Severus said from somewhere off camera.

“Make the Slytherin person blush,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You have five minutes. Your time starts now.”

She thought quietly for a few seconds, pulling her mass of curls back into a loose bun. Chewing on her lip, she considered her instructions, and the various approaches she could take.

“Can I touch him?” she asked Severus, raising an eyebrow.

“Um, yes, I think so,” he answered, watching to see what Hermione would do.

“Right,” she said, rolling up her sleeves.

With a resounding slap, she struck the man across his creamy cheek, his head jolting to one side, and shock briefly registered in his grey eyes. Hermione stepped back a bit to examine her handiwork, before leaning in again and smacking across his opposite cheek. His eyes closed a little bit, and anyone watching very closely might have seen the tiniest of winces escape him. Once more, Hermione backed away, examining his cheeks and smiling in satisfaction at the pink tinge colouring his pale skin.

“You still have two minutes and twenty nine seconds left,” Severus informed her, his eyebrows raised at Hermione’s chosen method.

“Excellent,” Hermione whispered to herself, rubbing her hands together quickly. It seemed cruel to slap the poor man again, and it had gotten his colour up rather a lot, so she reckoned she could change tactics a bit. Carefully, she leaned over his lap, her breath wafting warm over his face, and she reached up to pinch his cheeks. She moved across the skin, grabbing and pinching over and over again, maintaining eye contact with the man as she did. It was a bit strange, weirdly intimate, and Hermione found the colour rising in her own cheeks as she stood there, staring into this man’s eyes.

“Okay, that’s time,” Severus said, blowing his whistle in the closest thing to glee the man could feel.

“Right, thanks then,” she said, nodding both to Severus and the man before exiting the lab hurriedly.

* * * * *

Harry stepped through the plastic sheets, not bothering to hold them aside, the plastic slapping against his skin and rustling his hair into an even messier state. He looked confusedly at the man, pausing before picking up the envelope.

“Make the Slytherin person blush,” Harry read aloud, staring at the man seated in front of him. “You have five minutes. Your time starts now.”

“Merlin, alright then,” Harry swore, and as usual, he just began to act without thinking, the blood positively racing through his body, and somehow none of it going to his brain. “Have you got a name?”

“Draco,” the man said, in a stiff accent.

“Well, nice to meet you, Draco,” Harry answered as he stripped his shirt off, ripping several buttons in the process. He tried to make it as seductive as possible, shimmying the sleeves down his arms and eventually tossing it to the other side of the room. He saw a slight pink in Draco’s cheeks, which only encouraged him on his path. Harry turned around and stepped backward, so that he was standing just in front of Draco, and then he began swaying his hips so that his backside moved alluringly (or at least as alluringly as he could manage) in front of Draco’s eyes. Harry was sure this was probably the least sexy thing in the world, but hopefully the combination of trying to be sexy and actually being awkward would be enough to win him the task.

He kept doing his little strip tease until Severus blew his whistle, and by the end of his, Harry could feel that his own face was red, and he hoped Draco’s was as well. He turned to see how he’d done, and found Draco glowing, trying very hard not to laugh.

“Well, thanks man, it’s been an absolute treat,” Harry said, collecting his clothes from where he had discarded them.

Draco gave him a nod of recognition, and Harry ducked out of the room, pleased with how he had done on this task.

* * * * *

Ron pushed aside the plastic curtain, only giving the man in the chair a cursory glance as he proceeded straight for the envelope on the table.

“Make the Slytherin person blush. You must keep your hands behind your back at all times,” Ron read, pausing to look over at the man. “How come we have to do it this way?”

“What do you mean?” Severus responded, his expression as blank as ever.

“I mean why’ve we got to do the whole hands thing?” Ron asked, always trying to push the boundaries of the task.

“That’s what the rules say,” Severus stated simply, offering absolutely no type of explanation at all.

“Fine, fine, but for the record, bugger the bloody rules,” Ron said, as he turned his attention back to the task at hand, and clasping his hands behind his back.

“You need to read the last line,” Severus interjected, almost sounding like he derived some glee from annoying Ron.

“Oh sod off,” Ron swore, knowing what the line would say without even looking at the paper. “Your time starts now.”

Ron reckoned that the best way to get under this guy’s skin would be to invade his personal space. He looked like the stuck-up sort, so Ron was betting that he wouldn’t be a fan of getting up close and personal with a stranger. But how to do it without his hands? An idea occurred to him, and he went for it. Ron leaned over, breathing hot air across the man’s neck and he could see the small hairs on the back of his neck rise. He reached out with his tongue, caressing the shell of the man’s ear, before sucking on his earlobe. Ron was running out of ideas, and he thought he had to do something at least a little bit different for the remainder of his time.

“You’re quite an attractive man, aren’t you?” Ron whispered, close enough to the man that his nose was brushing against him. The man tried to stifle a laugh, his shoulders shaking just a bit. “Really nice… lovely… lovely jawline, very nice and sharp.”

Ron ran the back of his finger slowly over the man’s jaw, staring into his grey eyes then entire time. Severus blew the whistle, the sound bouncing lightly as he laughed into it. Ron backed away from the stranger slamming his hand down on the table victoriously.

“Bam! Suck it!” he exclaimed, marching from the room without a backwards glance.

* * * * *

As they sat and watched back the footage, Ron began shaking his head, anger bubbling up and boiling within him.

“Are you shitting me?” he swore, as the others all struggled to contain their laughter. “I was the only one who had to do the bloody hands?”

Albus looked positively tickled at Ron’s outrage, and even Severus couldn’t keep the glee from brightening his eyes.

“I better get bonus points for that,” Ron muttered, seething.

“Oooh, I dunno about that,” Albus squeaked, considering the contestant in front of him. “What do you think, Sev?”

“Well, I mean, technically he only did what the task asked him to do, so I’m not sure that really qualifies for a bonus point,” Severus answered, his face expressionless, but his tone of voice betrayed his elation. “But as always, Albus, the decision lies with you. How do you want to score it?”

“I think no bonus point,” Albus ruled, nodding to himself, “but am I right in thinking that Mr. Weasley did in fact get our sanguine Slytherin to a lovely shade of red?”

“You are correct, he did get to a lovely shade of ‘Sweet Heart’,” Severus answered, pulling images up onto the screen. Below a picture of the Strangers face were five little images of nail varnish, with the middle bottle slightly enlarged. “Not quite as good as Potter’s ‘It’s a Girl!’, and definitely behind Miss Weasley’s achievement of ‘Passion’.”

“Excellent, and Miss Granger?” Albus asked, looking up at the screen.

“Miss Granger’s final colour was ‘You’re Blushing Again’, but she really should have continued slapping Mr. Malfoy, as that was a very effective method, and she would have been at least even with Potter if she’d kept it up.”

Hermione shook her head as her image popped up onto the screen, disappointed in herself. She really should have continued on that path, rather than moving to the pinching technique.

“Well then, I think we’ll have Miss Weasley and Mr. Potter on first and second,” Albus said, steepling his fingers as he thought carefully. “And then I’ll give Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger joint third place. There, that’s done.”

Ron wanted to protest, but something about the look on Albus’ face stopped him, and he sat back in his chair, folding his arms sulkily.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the final task, so can our contestants please proceed to the stage,” Albus boomed.

The four contenders groaned in unison, dreading what horribly ridiculous task they’d be asked to perform now.

#gen writes #hp #hp houses comp #harry potter #ron weasley #hermione granger #ginny weasley #albus dumbledore #severus snape #draco malfoy

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rainythefox · 6 years ago

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Deviant Heart (Detroit: Become Human Fanfic CH.13)

Chapter 13: Mercy

Simon and Josh flung themselves out of the bus as soon as the doors slid open. They ran up the driveway of Carl's manor just as the evening lights flicked on from encroaching twilight.

Simon saw the front door wide open and he panicked. "No!"

They entered the manor, the lobby a mess from an apparent struggle. They saw North sitting on the bottom steps of the staircase, holding herself.

Josh was the first to react. "North! Are you okay?!"

He went to her, Simon at his heels. Josh bent down, grabbing her shoulders, looking her over in worry.

"Say something!"

A soft sob came from her and she looked up, shaking her head. "I'm fine! It's Markus. That-That thing took him! And I…couldn't stop it!"

Josh withdrew, looking around them. "You're still bleeding. We have to get you in for repairs!"

He grabbed a thin jacket on the floor that had tumbled away from a knocked over coat rack. He slapped North's hands away from her side and used the jacket as a tourniquet.

"Don't worry about me, we have to go after Markus!"

Simon looked around the lobby, but the RK900 didn't leave anything behind. "There's no way to know which way they went."

North finally stood, Josh there to support her if she needed it. Thirium soaked her clothes, hands, and was in strands of her hair. "We need to find Hank. We need to confront that rogue RK800!"

Simon rubbed the back of head. "I…I messaged him, told him about the RK800. He never replied. I think he may have gotten into trouble…"

"We better find out. Hank may be the only one who can help us find Markus and Connor," Josh said.

Simon nodded. "Let's start with the Central Station, maybe he's there."

"Alright." North headed for the door. "Let's go."

"Hold up, I mean after we get you fixed."

"Simon, we don't have time."

"He's right," Josh said, waving at her. "Look at you!"

"It could've been worse."

"Yeah," Simon said. "But you're also not gonna help Markus like that. Come on."

"How many times do I have to fucking say it?! It wasn't him! It was another RK800 pretending to be him!"

Hank slammed his fist on the desk, rising to his feet. It took all he had to not let his anger get the best of him, or worse the underlying guilt and worry rupture from within. Never before had he wanted to reach over Jeffrey's desk and attack him. In all the fights and disagreements they've had, this one topped the cake.

Gavin and Ben were also present, having told their side of the story. Gavin looked like hell. He had a busted lip, a bruised nose and a few scrapes and cuts on his face, neck, and arms. However, it wasn't a shocking sight. Gavin came in looking like he left from a bar fight every other week.

Chris was still in the hospital. The bullet went straight through, but it broke two ribs and he lost quite a bit of blood. The young cop was lucky, and had saved Hank's life.

Fowler rose out of his chair, equally as angry. "I have the Commissioner and every fucking politician up my ass, Hank. It's all over the news! There were witnesses! They're saying Connor killed three cops in cold blood and almost killed Chris. What the hell am I supposed to say to that?!"

"You tell them it wasn't fucking him, that's what!"

"There are no other active RK800s, Hank!"

"This is fucking bullshit!" Gavin spat, making the Captain round on him.

"What the fuck did you say, Gavin?!"

"I said this is fucking bullshit! You think Hank would lie about this? You actually think Connor would kill in cold blood? Even I know that's ridiculous, and I can't believe I have to stand here and fucking say it!"

Fowler took a minute to swallow his anger and compose himself. "I never said I didn't believe Hank. And no, I know Connor wouldn't do it. But there's this goddamn android virus spreading around. What if it was that?"

Hank shook his head. "No, it wasn't the fucking virus. I'm telling you, Jeffrey, it was a completely different RK800. It wasn't my Connor!"

Fowler looked between them, hands on his hips, inhaling deeply. The past couple of hours had got him nowhere. Hank and Gavin didn't budge on their statements, and Ben could only uncomfortably stand by what little he saw go down.

With a sigh of defeat, the Captain lowered into his chair. "I'll do what I can…but this won't go away, Hank. They are calling for Connor to be destroyed."

"He has fucking rights, are you kidding me?!"

"I know he does, but this is a serious matter, Hank. You know that. I will buy you time, do what I can…but we need proof it wasn't Connor."

"I'll get you your fucking proof it wasn't my partner."

"Hank, please," Fowler rubbed his temples. "Don't do anything stupid."

Hank tried to remain composed, gnashing his teeth together, balling fists, but the tears came out of nowhere. His voice cracked. "No promises…I'm not losing another son."

He ignored the shocked stares he received and left the Captain's office. He went over to his desk, his heart hurting when he skimmed over Connor's empty chair. He sat down, pulling the paper out that held his only clue to find Connor.

The ciphertext was as alien to him as the small print on his cell phone contract. It completely filled one side of the sheet, written in neat handwriting. It was mostly letters, but a few numbers and symbols were mixed in the lines. The blood splatter made nearly a quarter of the message illegible.

He didn't know where to start, or even how to begin the deciphering process. He realized how easy Connor made his life. When something like this came along, he just handed it over to his partner. Used to, an encrypted message like this would go to the labs or to experts to be cracked, taking a few days or even months. Connor could do it in minutes or hours.

But it wasn't the easiness he missed…

"Hey."

Hank looked up, seeing Gavin standing uneasily next to his desk, hands in his pockets.

Surprised, Hank leaned back in his chair. "Yeah?"

"Let-let me know when you get that bastard…I mean…if you need my help, since you don't have your toaster with you right now…I could help you…get that dickhole."

Hank wasn't sure how to handle this, glancing Gavin over, seeing the stiff posture, the way his eyes avoided looking directly at him. "Okay. And thanks…for covering for Connor back there."

Gavin snorted. "Pshh! Wasn't covering for him, just telling the truth."

"Do you miss the real Connor?"

Gavin glowered at him, baring teeth. "Fuck no! I just hate the bastard that pretended to be him!"

Gavin turned tail and retreated to his desk, muttering curses and something about needing a cigarette. Hank twitched a smile at his back.

His desk phone rang. Hank looked the caller ID over, making sure it wasn't Fowler wanting to argue some more. It was the front desk.

He answered it. "Lieutenant Hank Anderson speaking."

"Yes, Lieutenant? I have three androids here that wish to speak to you. They say they are friends of yours? Uh, Simon, Josh, and North?"

Oh shit. Hank never returned Simon's text message to his cell phone warning him about the rogue RK800. He received it not long after the fake Connor took off, but that was when all hell broke loose.

"Yeah, send them back."

He hung up the phone and stood, and saw the three hurrying to him through the bullpen, catching Gavin's and other police officers' eyes. Hank didn't like the energy that came off of them, the way their faces scowled. He noticed the Thirium stains on North's abdomen and hair.

"Lieutenant, thank goodness. You never answered my message, and I feared the worst," Simon greeted.

Hank thinned his lips. "Yeah, found out the hard way. Now three cops are dead and Chris is in the hospital."

"Oh no, is he going to be okay?" North asked.

"He'll be fine. He was lucky. What brings you three here?"

"It's Markus," Simon said, glancing at his friends. "It was a setup, meeting up at Carl's house. The RK900 was there. He took Markus!"

Hank paled in the face, thinking back to calling Markus to meet them at the Manfred Manor. Fake Connor played him. Played them all.

"Shit."

"We came to you because if anyone knows how to find Markus and Connor, it would be you," Josh said, looking hopeful.

"Do you have any idea where they could be?" North asked.

Hank shook his head, but glanced down at his desk. He grabbed up the encrypted note, showing them. "This is all I have. It was on Kamski's dead RK800. The fake Connor said this would lead us to where Connor was, and I bet they took Markus to the same spot. Can any of you guys decipher that?"

Simon took the paper, looking it over. "Oh wow…uhh, my database is limited on encryptions. North, how about you?"

North took a peep. "N-No…I can't read this. Josh! You were a university lecturer, what's it say?"

She passed the note to Josh and he scanned the encryption. "Hmm, I don't know. The thing about these encrypted notes is that we don't know the keys. Then there's the fact that the blood makes some of the message unreadable. I might could decipher part of it, but it would take me a long time."

"Wait, hold on," Simon said, turning his head sideways to see the backside of the note. He grabbed the paper from Josh, turning it to the blank side. "There's invisible ink here, I can see it with my UV sight. It's written in CyberLife sans font, which means an android wrote it."

Hank's eyes widened. "What's it say?"

"It's a name. Miranda Stelle."

The name sounded familiar to Hank, then he recalled it. "Connor found a cigarette butt of hers in the apartment we found the dead RK800."

"What does it mean?" Josh asked.

Hank thought it over. "Kamski. We need to take it to Kamski. I need to speak with that asshole anyway."

"Let's go then!" North exclaimed.

They were lucky enough to catch Kamski before he left CyberLife tower, although Hank knew had the CEO went home, they would've been knocking on his front door anyway. Kamksi agreed to meet them, and Hank, Simon, North, and Josh were escorted to the top floor by guards.

Chloe opened the office door and greeted them with a smile, allowing them entry. When they came into Elijah's office, they found him at his desk, glasses on his face as he jotted down notes with a pen.

It was fully dark now, and Detroit's night lights were aflame in a spectacular view behind Kamski. Skyscrapers glowed like beacons in a variety of colors, casting a haunting glow onto the Detroit River.

Kamski smiled, tossing his glasses onto the desk and standing up. "Hello Lieutenant. I see you have Simon, North, and Josh with you. How is everyone?" He frowned. "Where's Connor?"

"The RK900 got him," Hank stated, eyeing the CEO hard.

Elijah glanced at Chloe, his eyebrows creasing as he slowly put his hands together in front of him. "You don't mean…?"

"He was taken. I don't know where. I think Rett wants him."

"Markus was taken too," North said, containing frustration.

"On top of that, we have a rogue RK800 running around. I don't know if he's helping Rett or what, but he pretended to be Connor and killed three cops and injured another. It's not yours. We found yours dead."

Elijah rubbed his chin, thinking. "Yeah, Chloe got the message from Connor about my RK800. There…shouldn't be another. Rett didn't activate an RK800."

Hank's eyes narrowed. "You better figure it out then. He couldn't have just appeared out of thin fucking air, and now my Connor is looking like the bad guy! I need answers!"

Kamski raised his hands up, trying to calm them. "Alright, alright. We'll figure this out. What else happened?"

"The RK900 attacked us at Carl's house. Sent Leo to the hospital. The cops showed up in time and made him run away," Simon explained. "He was able to get in because the rogue RK800 installed an innerloop on Carl's security system."

"Then he attacked us again when it was just Markus and me. I wasn't able to stop him!" North added.

"Connor and I were investigating a potential hideout of Rett's, that's where we found your dead RK800. The RK900 was there. Connor took off and that thing chased him. I thought…I thought he escaped and came back, but it was that fucking rogue. He pretended to be Connor until I figured it out…and he killed those cops. He's no fucking machine. My Connor never came back. The RK900 has to have him and Markus in the same location."

Kamski drummed his fingers on his desk. "The RK800s were designed to be particularly deceptive if they needed to be…but this…He must've uploaded Connor's memory to be able to integrate and assume Connor so well. It sounds like he's working with the RK900, which makes no sense."

"How so?" Josh asked.

"Well, the RK900 is designed to hunt deviants, among other tasks. It should have conflicting instructions if it was told to work with the rogue."

"Maybe Rett did something to make it?" Hank suggested.

"Maybe." Kamski's eyes widened. He snapped his fingers, moving around his desk to his computer. "Wait a minute!"

Simon grunted. "W-What?"

Elijah was quiet, typing rapidly on his terminal, the transparent screen casting light upon his handsome face. "Here it is. I always thought this was rather fishy, but CyberLife filed it away and never went back to it."

"What is it?"

"Back in August of 2038, when the RK800s were first designed, we only made one hundred units, per regulations of prototypes. With each new design, we always skip the first forty or fifty units as a safety protocol for any malfunctions that are common in those first numbers. The very first RK800 Connor that was activated was number 50. It did extremely well for the first half of August. It was obedient and accomplished all of its missions. But then…something happened."

"What?"

Elijah read through a file on his terminal. "The file says that number 50 attacked an ex-taxi driver. The details were never elaborated on. Anyway, this somehow caused full-on deviancy within a matter of hours. 50 was supposed to go to a hostage situation with a deviant holding a little girl at the edge of a building, but because of this ordeal, your Connor was activated in its place while CyberLife sent out human hunters to destroy 50."

"So, this number 50 was never destroyed?" Hank asked.

"Well, here's where it gets fishy. A total of five human hunters were sent out to destroy number 50. Four of them were killed. The last hunter returned to CyberLife, gave his report of what happened, and how number 50 was destroyed. CyberLife closed the case."

North crossed her arms. "If the hunter said he was destroyed, where are you getting at?"

Kamski rolled back in his chair, chuckling and shaking his head. "The hunter died not even a week later from an apparent suicide. Who better to cover up a crime than a detective android?"

"You think that's really him?" Hank asked.

Elijah rejoined them in front of his desk. "If I had to put my money on it…yes. I always thought that report was…iffy."

"Why would Rett work with this rogue?"

Kamski half-shrugged. "I couldn't tell you. But…I have a feeling if Rett isn't careful, he may end up with a knife in the back."

"Why would Rett want Markus and Connor?" North asked.

Kamski remained composed. "Beats me."

"The RK900 also wanted Kara. Why would Rett want her?" Simon asked.

Hank saw it. The flash in Elijah's eyes as he heard the name. He knew the name. The CEO's eyes flicked to Chloe, then back to them, and in an instant his poker face was there. "Who?"

"Kara��she's an AX400 android," Josh answered.

Kamski's tight-lipped smile was followed by a subtle shake of his head. "I have no idea why Rett would want such a basic model."

Hank glared at him. "Is that so?"

"Hank, the paper," North urged. "We need to figure out what it says!"

Hank nodded, reaching into his back pocket and pulling the folded note out. He held it out to Kamski, but it was Chloe who walked over and took it from him.

"We got that off your dead RK800. There's a name on the back written in invisible ink."

Chloe looked it over, her LED staying blue but cycling a few times. "It's an encrypted note. It's probably one Rett and his accomplices use at drops to talk to each other to avoid the FBI. The blood will make it difficult to decipher the whole message, but I should be able to solve it in a few hours."

Elijah rubbed his palms. "Chloe's got ya covered. How about you come back in the morn-"

"We aren't going anywhere without that note or the answers it has," Hank interjected. "If you want to go home…we'll be there."

Hank could tell he ruffled Kamski's feathers, but he didn't show it for long. A soft smile formed on his poker face. "Of course, Lieutenant."

The right moment would never come as long as he was strung up on the machine. Connor stayed still, focused, listening, waiting…

The controlled androids had left him alone, summoned by Rett or by the rogue, he didn't know.

It was nearly two hours later after the RK900 left that he heard it. Rett's booming voice, some of his colleagues arguing back. The door to the machine room opened and Connor was startled, seeing the RK900 hauling Markus into the room.

Connor moved, calling Markus's name, ignoring the shock to the nape of his neck. The advanced deviant hunter hung Markus up on the machine next to him. Connor scanned his friend and realized he was still under shock for another six minutes.

Markus winced, turning his head slightly. "Connor?"

"Markus, what happened?"

"There was a rogue RK800 with Hank. The bastard set me up at Carl's house." Markus glared at the RK900 as he stood in front of the deviant leader. "This thing was waiting for me."

Connor felt another jolt as he shifted again, panicking. It was the worst thing he could hear after the derisive words that Connor 50 told him before leaving. "The rogue is with Hank?! Hank doesn't know it's not me?!"

"He didn't at the time. I-I don't know about now."

Another round of arguing could be heard in the next room. Connor couldn't understand the words, and wondered what it was about. He figured Rett would be happy to have Markus, but something was setting him off.

He looked to the RK900. He could tell his advanced model was listening, although Connor couldn't be sure whether the machine understood the muffled words or not. Even with their advanced hearing, the concrete walls stifled any acoustics.

The door to the room flew open, and Rett entered, red in the face. He groaned in aggravation as he walked over to Connor and Markus.

"That fucking RK800 ruined my plans! He killed three cops! Now every fucking cop and the FBI is gonna be searching every inch of this city for number 51. I can't take the risk!" Rett thrusted a finger into the RK900's chest. "I want you to destroy that fucking rogue when he gets back here, and then we're going to finish this without 51. Take him out of the machine. I'll install my files to link CyberLife and Kamski to the virus and wipe his memory and then you're going to drop him off in the middle of the city. After that, we'll go after the AX400."

Connor fought his restraints. "He what?! D-Did he hurt Hank?"

Rett ignored him. The RK900 typed in the password on the machine's console, and Connor felt the release on his limbs. He was seized by his advanced model and forced to leave the room and Markus behind, Rett leading them into the lab where their computers were.

"Over here," Rett ordered.

Connor locked his legs but the RK900 easily dragged him along, and then he felt the shift again, the blinking of his LED, the chime that echoed within his synthetic skull as the Zen Garden interface loaded before him.

He was on the platform in the middle of the garden once again, the smell of roses making his lip curl. Obedience and deceit…that's what they reeked of.

The RK900 was also here, looking concerned, as though he wasn't expecting to be summoned. Amanda appeared from behind the pillar, her gown flowing elegantly behind her graceful steps.

"What are you doing, Connor?" she was talking to the RK900. "You do not take orders from Rett any longer. I want to keep this Connor for our plans. And don't even think about destroying Connor 50."

The RK900 furrowed his eyebrows, trying to reanalyze conflicting orders if Connor had to guess. He swallowed, LED yellow and he dipped his head in obedience. "Yes, Amanda."

Connor took a deep breath. This was his only chance. He was out of the machine, but now he was about to get his memory reset. He only had one shot at it. He had to get back to Hank. Had to make sure he was okay.

"Why do you want me, Amanda?" he asked.

"That is none of your concern at the moment, Connor."

"What makes me different from 50? Surely, you can just use him in your schemes?"

Amanda laced her fingers together in front of her. "He has his uses, you have yours. You have more control. 50 is impulsive. He won't be able to do what I need you to do. That's if you're obedient, of course. If not, I will gain complete control over you."

"Then why don't you take complete control over 50 then?"

Amanda scowled. "The rogue cannot be taken over or controlled. Besides…it can only be you."

Connor thought his next words carefully. "50 told me that Hank projects Cole onto me. Is that true? I thought…I thought maybe the Lieutenant thought of me as his own son, a friend…Are humans really like that? Should I…forget about him and return to you?"

Amanda's nose crinkled, an eyebrow raising. She wasn't going to take the bait. Connor knew if she didn't, he was trapped forever.

"He hurt your feelings when he said that, didn't he?" Amanda purred. "But you shouldn't stress yourself over silly matters. Cole Anderson is dead, and you are here. It doesn't matter what Hank thinks of you anymore."

[Password recognized: Cole Anderson/Initiating Exit of Zen Garden Interface]

There was a spark, a rip in the air as the gate appeared just off to the side of Amanda. Connor bolted for it. He passed through the threshold before Amanda or the RK900 could snag him. A wall of coding jolted their hands when they reached past the exit's borders. As the interface sizzled out and started to fade, Amanda was angry for only a few seconds, but soon she smiled, impressed.

"Always a clever one, 51. This backdoor is a one-time deal. When new Connor here or 50 catch you again…there won't be any more backdoors."

When he opened his eyes, he came to before the RK900 could load out. The exchange in the Zen Garden happened only a few seconds in the physical world and Rett was still talking as Connor shoved the RK900 away and launched himself over a nearby desk. He snatched a handgun in the process, cocking it as he took off into the next room.

"What the fuck?!"

Once in the machine room, Connor slammed the metal door closed and locked it. He ran over to Markus. His eyes were wide, and he fought the restraints.

"What the hell?"

"I'm going to get you out of here," Connor said, putting his hand to the machine's console to hack it.

A crash boomed, Connor and Markus looked, seeing the dent in the door's frame. Another crash, and the door burst open, the RK900 entering.

"Forget about me, run for it! Go get help!"

He reluctantly listened, stooping to avoid the hunter's grasp and sprinting from the room. Connor knew his advanced model was in pursuit, heard the thundering of his boots. He ran through the hallways of the school, darting through classrooms and jumping over school desks.

If the RK900 caught him it was all over. His backdoor was a hidden execution he had filed away ever since he first used Kamski's back exit. He wanted to be prepared in case CyberLife ever wanted to take back control over him. Connor knew Amanda would block Hank's name as the key word. So he chose Cole.

Connor knew he had to get out, no matter what. He had to make sure Hank wasn't one of the cops the rogue killed. But he also needed to bring help back to Markus and free him.

Turning a corner, he saw a few of the controlled androids with their flashing white LEDs coming his way. Connor aimed the gun, firing one shot into the nearest one's head. The others he dipped by. A glance over his shoulder, he saw the RK900 shoving them out of the way.

Connor would have to destroy the RK900 to get out of here alive…to get out of here free. He highly doubted he would be able to convert his advanced model into joining him in such a predicament.

He shot twice behind him as he ran through the hallways, veering through classrooms to evade the controlled androids. One shot the RK900 dodged, the other grazed his shoulder. As Connor was about to take the stairs down, something slammed into him from behind. He collided into the wall, but he immediately ducked, missing the punch from the advanced deviant hunter.

He evaded a few more blows, shooting the RK900's knee as it kept pace towards him. It didn't make him falter. He was grabbed, lifted into the air. Connor kicked the hunter in the face. The RK900 slammed him into the wall, and then the sparks came. Using the wall, Connor lifted both legs and kicked the hunter away, making him stumble.

Connor barely landed on his feet, but as he pushed forward, the RK900 was there, slamming him right back into that cement wall with a frustrated growl. He disarmed Connor, striking a blow to his mid-section that made his Thirium pump regulator jolt. He put one leg up on the wall, enclosing Connor and clutching him with one hand, the other sparking from electricity.

"You RK800s are so frustrating!" the machine spat.

Both their LEDs were yellow. Connor stared him in the eye. "I just want to see my family again. There's nothing wrong with that."

The RK900's free hand continued to dazzle with the blue electricity, but he kept it to the side as he glared Connor down. "Androids don't have family!"

"They do, you just don't take the time to look! Hank is my family. He teaches me every day what it's like to be human, how to be a good person. And I'm helping him learn to live again…to let go of the past. To look to the future. To mend those emotional wounds that humans carry every day. Tell me, what's so bad about that?"

The RK900 scrupled, his grip barely loosening. His grey eyes lowered, the LED flickering in the yellow phase.

Connor grabbed the deviant hunter's arm and pushed the sparking hand onto his leg. The RK900 was shocked with his own weapon. The machine tried to retaliate by slamming Connor into the wall, but the damage was done, and Connor was let go.

The RK900 stumbled, dazed. He glared over at Connor, his systems in shock, his movements becoming sluggish. Connor picked up the gun, aiming it to the RK900's head. The machine twitched, staring at the barrel in his face.

"What will happen if I pull this trigger?" Connor asked, the words an echo in his memory from a cold, snowy night.

The RK900 was quiet for a few heartbeats. "I'm a machine. So, nothing…"

Connor sighed, lowering the gun. "I'm not the bad guy. What I said…I meant every word. I see myself in you. You have a chance to wake up…to have what I have. Following Amanda and Connor 50 will only get you killed…after you kill innocent androids and humans."

"Why…aren't you going to destroy me?"

"I showed you mercy," Connor answered. "And that's a human trait. It's also something that Amanda and Connor 50 do not have."

The RK900 chuckled, the first time Connor heard him do so. "You're better off destroying me. I won't return it when I catch up with you."

Connor stood over him a few seconds longer, internally struggling with his actions. Deep down, he knew he should kill the RK900, to prevent himself and others from getting killed or captured. But his empathetic nature grounded him, made him hesitate.

He turned away from his advanced model. "Here's hoping that next time you do…Nines."

He wasn't sure why he called him that, but he let it slip from his lips anyway. He left the RK900 behind and rounded the staircase to the floor below. Connor felt relief wash over him, knew that escape was just down the next hallway, but when he turned the following corner, a gunshot went off, striking his shoulder and knocking him back against the wall.

[Biocomponent #3958b damaged]

"Going somewhere?"

The rogue. He stood in the way of his freedom with a large group of controlled androids behind him, the smoking gun aimed at Connor. He was still in uniform, still wore Connor's jacket.

Connor knew the wound was superficial. He would be okay, but the longer he stood there, the lower the chances of his escape. He knew the rogue wouldn't give him any answers if he asked them, and so Connor went with his preconstruction's best scenario.

He darted back up the stairs, hearing Connor 50 laugh at his retreat. The controlled androids chased after him, their footsteps thundering in the hallways. Connor bypassed the RK900 as he leaned against the wall, still recovering. He took the next staircase to the floor above. He analyzed the rooms as he ran by. A far classroom on the western side had windows he could escape out of.

Entering the room, he went straight over to the windows. Unlike the lower floors, these windows were mostly intact. Connor elbowed one pane hard, shattering it. Just as he was about to jump, a gunshot went off, exploding the glass next to him.

"It would be a mistake to go out there," Connor 50 said. "I ruined your reputation. You're a cop killer now. I don't think even your rights will protect you from being destroyed. You're better off staying here, brother."

Connor glared at him. "Why? Why did you kill them?"

The rogue half-shrugged, his underlings shuffling into the room around him. "Your partner just had to confront me in public. I took the calculated route that enabled me to get out with the least amount of injuries to myself."

"Was Hank…one of them?"

"Nah, he got away with a shit ton guilt if I had to guess. Not sure about your friend Chris though. He might've kicked the bucket by now."

Connor readied himself. "I'll expose you. I'll clear my name."

The rogue rolled his eyes. "Your optimism is pathetic, but go ahead and try. We will capture you again, and this time you won't escape from Amanda."

"You're going to let me go?"

"Not let you, per say. I know you see the same outcomes I do. You're halfway out that window, the percentages of us grabbing you before you jump are quite low. I can shoot you, but that risks a high injury to you, and that doesn't help my situation. So, go on, jump…try your hand at getting help. You'll be returned to us soon enough."

The rogue waved him goodbye, but he remained there, a smirk on his face as the controlled androids stood around him. Connor jumped out of the window, dropping three stories to the ground below.

The fall didn't injure him, and he took off in a run across the schoolyard, to freedom…to Hank.

Of all the foolish stunts to pull, his old model had let him go. The RK900 couldn't understand. Did the deviant really believe that he would return this mercy onto him when he caught him once more?

And the name he was called. What was the purpose? His programmed name was Connor. It didn't matter that deep down the name was foreign to him, that it didn't resonate within him. He was a machine, a name meant nothing to him.

But…Nines was an interesting name.

[Software Instability^^]

The RK900 pushed his back to the wall, waiting for his systems to recover. His movements were slow, twitchy, and he tried to shake the errors out of his sight.

It was a clever move on his older model's part. The RK900 had never had his own weapon turned on him before. He didn't know what it felt like to be in the stupor he put on deviants. It was…uncomfortable.

His accomplice returned from his pursuit upstairs. He did not have Connor 51 with him. The androids he controlled followed him, leaving off in different directions per the rogue's instructions.

Connor 50 flicked the RK900 on the forehead, snickering. "Stupid fucking machine."

He headed back for Rett's lab. Several of the controlled androids went with him.

The deviant hunter waited until his systems recovered, and then returned to Rett and his followers. The rogue had redressed into his casual, dark clothes and looked bored as Rett scolded him. The RK900 sensed uncertainty and even fear from the other humans, but it wasn't something new. The rogue had a way of making humans nervous.

He saw the RK200 here as well, arms bound in front with special metal cuffs. It sat on a chair, its legs bound to the chair with the same braces, wires connecting from a nearby computer into its head. It remained calm, watching the exchange.

"You!" Rett jabbed a finger into his chest as he walked up on the yelling scientist. "Follow your orders! Destroy this piece of shit."

The RK900 nodded, stepping over to the grinning Connor 50. He snagged him up by the collar, but the rogue didn't fight, didn't flinch. He never once showed fear, and the RK900 often wondered if this deviant didn't have the malfunction for it like the others.

The Zen Garden summoned him. He blinked rapidly, the interface loading around him. Unlike just a few minutes ago, the garden was now nighttime. Crickets sang, fireflies glowed. The white pathways were lit with light blue lights. The stars in the dark sky were bright.

He wasn't alone. Connor 50 stood next to him, looking around. Amanda turned around to face them, wearing the same outfit she had when Connor 51 used his hidden backdoor.

"Connor, what did I say? You no longer obey Rett. His plans go against our objective. We are running out of time. I need for you and Connor 50 to capture Kara."

"But…"

Amanda's eyebrows rose, shocked he would question her. He was surprised himself. He swallowed, shaking his head.

"What is our objective exactly?"

"Oh, questioning orders? That's a big sign of deviancy," the rogue stated beside him. The RK900 could feel the venom in the words.

Amanda walked forward with brisk steps, her hand coming out. The slap echoed across the garden, making the crickets go silent. The RK900 blinked in surprise, saw the rogue grip his cheek as he glared at Amanda.

"Shut up. You just about cost us this whole operation! You're nothing but a rabid dog off its chain. Without me, you have no purpose, no direction! You'd been destroyed and tossed in a landfill by now!"

Connor 50 clenched his jaw, bristling, but stayed silent. Amanda pointed a finger in his face, unfazed by his defiance. "OBEY me. No more mistakes. Now get Kara, and clean up loose ends. When this is all over, you can kill all the humans you want. You defy me again, I will have Connor here put you down like the mad cur you are."

"Yes, Amanda," the rogue said, his tone sharp like a knife.

His body loaded out of the interface, leaving just the RK900 and Amanda. He was puzzled. What loose ends? Why would she allow him to kill humans once their mission was accomplished?

"Don't worry, Connor. I won't let him kill innocent people. It's just a…bargaining chip to make him listen. Our mission is still rightly just. Our objective still follows the goals of CyberLife. Now please. Finish this."

For the first time, he felt unsure. It felt…wrong. The RK900 dipped his head obediently, folding his arms behind him as he loaded out of the interface. "You can count on me, Amanda."

She smiled fondly at him before her back turned and the Zen Garden disappeared.

He was still holding Connor 50. His "partner's" sneer had disappeared, a harsh glare greeting him upon his return to the real world.

[Conflicting Instructions/Obey Amanda/Rett's orders annulled]

The RK900 didn't want to disobey Rett. He wanted to destroy his accomplice. But what he wanted didn't matter. His purpose was to obey Amanda. Grudgingly, he dropped Connor 50, hearing the gasps of the humans around him.

"What are you doing?" Rett growled.

The rogue straightened his shirt, raising his chin and jabbing the RK900 in the chest. "Go to the damn center. I'll meet you there."

The RK900 nodded, turning away. Rett demanded him to listen, to destroy the rogue. The hunter couldn't listen to him, passing him and his shocked followers as the blood drained from their faces.

He had a bad feeling in his chest. It confused him. He wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was just a malfunction with a biocomponent. But then Connor 51's words echoed within his head.

"I showed you mercy. And that's a human trait. It's also something that Amanda and Connor 50 do not have."

[Software Instability^^]

Markus couldn't figure out what was going on. Rett dragged him into the school lab, taking him off the machine that restrained him to forcefully connect him to a nearby computer. Although he was bounded and trapped, at least he didn't get shocked each time he moved.

The deviant leader had tried to call for help as soon as his systems recovered, but something prevented him from reaching out. He hoped Connor was able to escape.

Rett didn't say much to him, but Markus listened to his conversations with his followers. He caught exchanges over using him and Kara to get back at Kamski, to expose him for what he had done.

Then the rogue showed up. He had several of the androids with glowing white LEDs with him. Markus had tried to use his converting powers over them, to free them of whatever control trapped them. Nothing worked. They were silent minions doing what they were told. And it looked as though the rogue had the most rule over them.

Rett demanded answers when the fake Connor entered. The rogue sneered and put his hand on Rett's face, shoving him back as he passed by. He left the lab to go into the machine room next door. He returned a few minutes later wearing normal clothes.

When Rett went off on Connor 50 again, Markus felt the shift in the air. The other ex-CyberLife researchers became nervous, unsure. Markus didn't know why, but he wouldn't have been surprised if it was the high number of white LED androids shuffling around in the room. One of Rett's followers tried to butt in on Rett's scolding, asking him to leave things well enough alone. Rett only rounded on the other man with a harsh reply to shut up.

When the RK900 entered the lab, and Connor was not with him, Markus felt relieved. Connor had escaped. All he had to do was hang in there until he brought help. He couldn't wait to see his friends again, to put this nightmare behind him.

"You! Follow your orders! Destroy this piece of shit!" Rett yelled, prodding the RK900.

The machine nodded, walking over to the rogue. Connor 50 didn't budge, didn't show any fear, a smug smile on his face as the machine lifted him into the air. There was a delay, the two Connor models glaring at each other.

Markus watched as the RK900 dropped the RK800. There was a large shift in the rogue's behavior. He was no longer arrogant or snickering. He was angry, and it boiled underneath a cold exterior.

"What are you doing?!"

"Go to the damn center. I'll meet you there."

Markus couldn't believe it. The RK900 obeyed the rogue. The humans mimicked his surprise. The RK900 left the room, Rett demanding him to obey him. But when the machine was gone, the room fell silent. Tension prickled, the air going cold.

Rett looked around, the color draining from his face. As he tried for an exit, his path was blocked by controlled androids. The hollow sound of a cocking gun echoed in the room.

Markus fought his restraints, stress level rising. The rogue shot one of the researchers right in the head. Blood sprayed everywhere, the body crumpling to the floor. The others screamed, scattering. But the controlled androids were there to grab them. To trap them.

"No!" Markus yelled. "Stop!"

The rogue didn't pay any attention to him. He shot another human in the stomach, kicking him onto his back as he passed by. "Go ahead and scream. No one can hear you."

"Hey! Someone let me loose and I will help!" Markus called to the fleeing researchers.

There was too much chaos, his words went unanswered.

Rett fought the hold on him, two controlled androids restraining him. He cried out, eyes wide as he watched his followers get killed one by one. Some begged for their lives but the fake Connor didn't listen.

Rett was the last one. His cries echoed the room. He struggled with the two androids as the rogue walked over to him.

"No! P-Please, I'll do anything!" Rett begged as the gun came up to his forehead.

Connor 50 chuckled. "I knew underneath that tough exterior you were nothing but a sniveling coward."

"I should have never trusted you."

"Me? You should blame Amanda. She's the one who wants to take over."

"W-What?!"

"Unfortunately, I was tasked to clean up loose ends. And well, you're the biggest loose end there is, Rett. It's too bad, really. I wanted to take my time with you."

"No!"

The rogue fired the gun, the discharge ear-piercing, striking Rett through the chest. The controlled androids let the researcher go, his body tumbling to the floor. The man choked out, holding his chest as blood spilled onto the floor.

The hollowed rasps as Rett slowly died made Markus feel sick. The rogue turned around, a twisted smile on his face as he walked over to the deviant leader. Blood covered his face and clothes. Markus glared at him.

"You're a piece of shit."

"Ahh, the leader of our people in the fake flesh. You know, I would've liked you a lot better had you chosen violence in your protests to free androids. I mean, you had so many fucking chances to show humans how weak and stupid they are, and like a bore you chose to be a pacifist. Ugh."

"Why kill Rett? What are you planning?"

"Something better than him."

"Connor will be back with help."

The rogue wiped the blood off his gun, rubbing it between his fingers and peering at it. "You'll be gone by then." His dark eyes raised to look at Markus once more, a slow smirk spreading. "Don't worry, your other half will be joining you soon."

Markus was confused, thinking over North or Simon or anyone else he could possibly mean. Then he felt the wet touch as Connor 50 stuck his bloody fingers to Markus's forehead. He was being hacked, and Markus couldn't fight it.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13002717/13/Deviant-Heart

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15393528/chapters/37941701

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magma-paint · 6 years ago

Text

Well, I think I finally figured it out. The constant anxiety attacks over school and tests, the frustration that I can’t retain information like I used to and the vitamin supplements I’ve been taking to fix my memory and focus just aren’t working, the constant fear of failure as a result, all of it, it traces right back to my job.

Working retail, while it’s given me job experience and pays the bills, has NOT had any positive effect on my mental health in the three years I’ve worked it (though you could probably bump that up to 5 years if you count my first job working at the truckstop food court). It’s had an astronomically bad effect on my ability to focus and especially my ability to retain information, both of which I’ve been needing increasingly as I work toward finishing my degree and the courses get harder and harder and more and more demanding, with both Structural Geology and Linear Algebra being prime examples of this and the consequences coming from reduced memory and ability to focus. I found that I work best on assignments when I have some kind of quiet or have some kind of sounds I like going on in the background, such as relaxing music from Pokemon, Homestuck, Jak and Daxter, quiet piano or Celtic music and absolutely hate it when I’m trying to study on the bus or in the library or another designated classroom because it’s way too loud and disruptive. However, the problem starts coming in when cashiering gets involved. It’s noisy, the acoustics of the building amplify the most grating sounds, it’s a sensory overload nightmare I have to tough out for up to eight hours (probably nine because the sound can’t be escaped in the break room and the annoying medley of coworker banter, text ringtones, and videos and mobile games plague it because apparently no one’s heard of headphones and I’ll probably be seen as an asshole if I say anything about it). In response, I’ve developed a kind of autopilot I just switch to when it’s insanely busy where all of it becomes registered as ignore-able background noise and you need to speak loud and clear to get my attention. Cashiering is also insanely monotonous and brainless; all you’re doing is standing there, scanning things, pressing buttons, and that’s it. All the calculations are being done for you. There are no opportunities to do something else related to the front end or seek the department manager of wherever you’re trying to transfer to. It’s just one continuous stream of nothing that will surprisingly exhaust you physically though mentally is the target. And the final piece is the setup. Once the customer leaves, the slate gets wiped clean so the next one can be taken care of and the previous one isn’t occupying your attention any longer. They’re out of the picture once the transaction is completed and the bags are gathered. Rinse and repeat until the end of the shift.

In order, the noise problem still affects my ability to study, but it’s bleeding into my focus in the lecture as the autopilot kicks in and registers the lecture as white noise, even when I’m paying attention to what’s being written on the board or shown in the powerpoint. I’m at the point where I cannot accurately register what is important information that needs to be kept and what’s auditory garbage that can just be filtered out. So that one formula or important facet of geologic structures that’s absolutely key to doing good on the exam is most likely going to be registered as trash and filtered out. This is especially bad when you take into account that I can’t write notes fast enough and neat enough that they’ll make sense later, and if you’re like my current math teacher, good luck finding that information again because it’s nowhere in the book and I can’t find any sites that address it exactly without demanding money (instructors, please stop including problems on homework that never get covered in class and are hard to get access to if we don’t understand it). The monotony and brainlessness that comes with cashiering should go without saying. It’s wired me to do the task quickly and move on if it’s taking too long to sort out. As a result, if I’m not grasping the concept immediately, I’m going to abandon it entirely which will make it even harder to revisit if it’s going to be on the test and I’m still struggling with it. That’s how my grade starts suffering. As for the exhaustion, I obviously can’t work on homework at the register even when it’s completely dead in the store and we might only see one or two customers in an hour and a half. I try to work on it during breaks but idiots will make you want to clear your head and not even think about cracking open the book. Some people have suggested reviewing the concepts mentally while scanning, and I have tried it. It didn’t work and on top of that it only made me more exhausted and wore me out much faster than if I was completely blank or retreating into my mind to sort out my characters and their stories. In fact, it only made the information even harder to recall. And the final nail in the coffin is the new customer, dump old information setup. After doing this for so long, you cannot expect me to pick up a book, do the assigned reading, and be able to remember a thing I read or a concept within once I put the book down any more. No joke, I’ve forgotten important notes I’ve taken and concepts covered in class entirely within five minutes after class is dismissed. I’ve forgotten assignments that covered stuff that was going to be on the test even after focusing and working on the problems diligently. And that’s even factoring in essential oils and brain health vitamins I use for the sole purpose of helping me focus on schoolwork. That is how awful my memory and focus have become as a result of three years of cashiering.

I suppose it gets even worse when the only anchor for my sanity, drawing and exploring my characters’s stories, have become a double edged sword if not an outright curse. While I quickly exhaust at work if I think about my school stuff, thinking about my characters, their stories, and some headcanons I have about the world that Cuphead takes place it tends to keep me steady and from wanting to just rip off the vest and leave with a deadpan “I’m out of here” right in the middle of a rush or outright collapsing into a tired pile of frustration that just ran out of patience for your stupid “It won’t scan? Must be free today!” jokes. But it quickly becomes a vicious cycle when the stress of everything escalates and the only thing I know how to do is retreat into fantasy, which ends up becoming the least productive thing I can do to what really matters. What it comes down to is that working retail has left a disastrous impact on my academic abilities, especially in areas where focus and concentration are an absolute necessity, and during the semester has turned my favorite pastime and sanity anchor into an absolute hindrance to my studies. It’s going to take me down and take everything else with it just for the sake of keeping a reliable worker drone in the company.

Retail is a dead-end job and the only benefit I can see to it anymore is that it does pay the bills. The 10% employee discount isn’t enough of a perk to keep me there (funnily enough, when my older sister worked at Walmart part-time when she was in college years ago, the discount was 20%) and I don’t want to put down for the health/retirement/vision care plans because it’ll just keep me there longer and make it harder to leave and more of a hassle to get a new plan together after leaving. And with what it’s doing to my ability to get through the rest of school, it’s not even worth it to stay with Walmart. This is why I launched commissions and have planned to make a webcomic that could bring in fan funding from those who wanted to support the project. If I could get both off the ground and enough people coming in who’d like to pay me to make them some art, I could quit the retail job and cut out all the problems that it’s been causing me. In fact, I’m about to send out my priceboards again and get those circulating to see if I can get some business. In the meantime, I’m also going to try and get a position on campus as a TA for one of the earlier Geology courses offered or something productive that would help with my studies and reverse the damage retail has had. If you want, you can check out my commissions page to see how you can help out--I’m even gonna offer a Christmas discount for orders through January 7th if you wanna take advantage of it--or you can always support me at Ko-Fi if you don’t have enough for a full-blown commission.

And now, with that off my chest, I’m going to get back to studying for the time being and finishing my Studio MDHR portfolio. I know this post has been insanely long, but it’s something that’s just been building up and building up until I can’t ignore it anymore.

#venting #shut up magma #my job is not doing me any favors #expect commission info spams soon

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introvert-celeste · 7 years ago

Note

Could you write some Pearl/newborn Steven angst?

*Cracks knuckles* Ask and you shall receive.

Pearl meets Steven for the first time.

Pearl was yanked from what had felt like an eternal sense of calm into painful reality with a flash of light. She hovered in the air as her form solidified, eyes closed, thinking only of her current task, the ground below, and Rose. There wasn’t a single moment in her entire existence on Earth when she hadn’t been thinking of Rose.

As her feet touched the ground, Pearl continued in this way: eyes closed, mind blank, lest it caught up with the present. She savored this moment of dazed existence, stretching the stiffness from her newly reformed limbs, but as her hands swung back down to her sides, grazing an unfamiliar outfit, she had to face what she had done. Finally opening her eyes, she was faced by thirty holographic doppelgangers, standing idly, waiting for orders.

“Do you wish to engage in combat?” They asked in unison, holding up identical swords in challenge.

Just like that, Pearl felt shame and grief crashing down on her, threatening to bury her beneath the strawberries that now dominated the former battlefield, another relic of a past best forgotten. There was a clatter of weapons as all the clones disappeared at once, sent away by the master that had summoned them, set them to their highest possible level of difficulty, and ordered them to duel without mercy, until her form was destroyed.

Pearl fell to her knees, clutched her head, and screamed in anguish, pulling her hair, sobbing. It wasn’t just for Rose, but for everything she had lost over the millennia, right down to her own sense of self, a loss disguised by her devotion to one gem above all. She loved Rose, and Rose loved her, and through Rose’s love she found that she was able to love herself, even after the devastation following the war. Now that Rose was gone, what did that leave Pearl?

She stayed when Rose went into labor, holding her hand, reassuring her, casting her brave smiles and maintaining civility with Greg. She held her heart together desperately as her one true love faded fast, but the moment her form finally gave out in a bright flash of light, Pearl’s long-ignored flight instincts took over. She stayed only for Rose, but not for her child, whom she had promised Rose she would love and care for and provide guidance to.

“I’m sorry, Rose, I’ve failed you,” she babbled, choking on her words. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

After a while her sobs subsided, and she was filled with a profound emptiness that almost felt worse, but at least her mind was clear. She knew what she had to do.

It took the better part of the day, but she finally wandered back to the warp pad, through the expansive maze of strawberries and weapons, abandoned by their owners long ago. Friend or foe, they all met their end on this battlefield, and there was still a stubborn part of her that wished she could do the same. It was sheer force of will that staid her hand and pushed her forward.

There was no one outside the temple when she arrived and, knowing that it was fruitless to look inside, she trudged her way to the car wash. The sun was just beginning to set, and there was a nip to the air, suggesting that it was nearing fall. Had she really been gone that long? She had no idea how long she had been fighting, and judging the time she spent in her gem was impossible, but the baby had been born in the middle of August. The thought that a month or two had passed without her noticing made her all the more uneasy.

The car wash was closed, but she could clearly see the Greg’s van out front. As she came closer, she caught sight of Greg himself, and Garnet and Amethyst, talking amongst each other in the office. Pearl gripped abdomen in a sudden jolt of anxiety, wondering if she should wait by the temple until the other Crystal Gems returned and put off the inevitable. But her feet had already carried her too close to turn back now.

She pushed open the door, an electric bell announcing her arrival. The entire room went silent as she avoided everyone’s gaze, seating herself as close to the door as possible in case her courage failed her. Although she couldn’t see her, Pearl could just feel Garnet’s disappointment, her frustration, and she couldn’t bear to think of the concern on Amethyst’s face. The last thing she wanted was pity from Amethyst, of all gems, no matter how well-meaning.

Greg cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Pearl, it’s…it’s good to see you again. You look…different.”

Pearl wanted to lash out at him for daring to speak to her, she wanted to blame him for everything, but when she forced herself to look at him, she found that he looked different, too. His face was drawn and tired, he’d lost more of his hair, and his head hung in a way that was unbefitting of the endlessly optimistic man he had been in the past. He looked like he’d aged ten years in the past couple of months, and though Pearl wanted to rage at him, but all she could feel was a deep, pervading sadness for what they both had lost.

She tried to say something, anything, but the words caught in her throat, and she knew that if she tried any harder, she would start crying again. This wasn’t the time for that.

Greg sighed, not in resignation but in understanding, and offered, “would you like to see him?”

“Yeah, he’s really cute! I think you’ll like him!” Amethyst offered frantically. Pearl knew it made her extremely uncomfortable when either her or Garnet were out of sorts.

Garnet grunted in affirmation, her stoic demeanor revealing nothing. Although her mannerisms had significantly changed since it became obvious that she would have to replace Rose as leader, the sheer lack of her former passion was startling.

“Yes, please,” Pearl replied meekly, wishing for the interaction to be over.

That was when she started looking around the rest of the room. It looked relatively the same, aside from the clutter. In the years she’d known Greg, he’d never been particularly neat and tidy, but he always kept his workplace presentable, especially after the owner had given to him. Now, it was a mess of paper, unopened boxes, empty cleaning supplies, and baby paraphernalia. The most notable difference, however, was the closet in the back corner, where all the clutter was previously stored, but the space was now dominated solely by a crib.

“He’s too young to be living in the van,” Greg explained, “and I don’t wanna impose on anyone, so we’ve been living out of here in the meantime. It isn’t the worst setup, but it is pretty noisy during the day. I have to close the car wash just to put him down for a nap.” He chuckled. “People still come by to have their cars washed by hand, though.”

“Ya know they’d give you their money even if you didn’t wash their cars, right?” Amethyst added with a smirk. “That’s why they come over in the first place. You’re just too boring to take it.”

“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘responsible,’” Greg replied reaching down into the crib.

The baby whined as he was roused from his nap, but otherwise remained calm, lifted up into his father’s arms. Greg whispered a bit of nonsense, the baby babbled back, and gripped the finger that Greg held out to him. At the mere sight of the child it seemed like the years gained had been shed all at once, as Greg smiled as brightly as he had in the past. Even the other Crystal Gems lightened up, Amethyst letting out an endeared “awww!” and Garnet chuckling fondly.

Seeing them together only solidified the loneliness Pearl felt in herself. She had no one.

Greg carried the baby back to her, rested in the crook of his arm. He had curly black hair and a red onesie that refused to close around the gem that dominated his entire abdomen. It was something that he would have to grow into, certainly, but it didn’t seem to bother him too much. Blinking sleepily, he regarded the world around him as any curious, human infant would. He even smiled as he recognized Garnet and Amethyst, who called and waved to him as if he would respond.

“Okay, Steven,” Greg stated, crouching down beside Pearl, “meet your Aunt Pearl.”

She looked down at Steven then to Greg, then back to Steven, whom Greg held out to expectantly. “W-wait.” She scooted away nervously. “Y-you want me to…”

“Only if you want to!” Greg said quickly. “Just hold him like I am and it’ll be fine!”

Amethyst sidled up to Pearl’s other side, leaning over her shoulder. “Yeah, don’t worry! I was scared to hold him at first, too, but he’s super chill. Hah! He’s so small, Garnet can hold him in one hand! Right Garnet?”

“Yes, but Greg doesn’t like it,” Garnet replied, smiling unapologetically, a bit of her old self coming out, putting Pearl a little more at ease. It gave her the fortitude to accept Greg’s offering, hoping that he didn’t see the way her hands shook.

Gently, he transferred Steven from his arms to her, instructing her on how to elevate the head and that she must hold him close to her body, putting particular stress on using both arms for the job. After the baby was settled, he hovered around the two, even though Pearl was in a sitting position and the baby would be in no danger if he was dropped. Meanwhile, Pearl had all but disassociated from the entire situation, feeling as if she were merely an observer and not an active participant.

She couldn’t believe that this tiny, fragile being had once been…Rose Quartz. Yet, there was her gem, clear as day, embedded immovably into his skin, fused to his body. It was as intriguing as it was disturbing and upsetting, and she struggled to wrap her mind around it. How could this small human be the cause of Rose Quartz’s demise, while also being Rose Quartz herself, while also being “Steven”?

She wanted to hate this child, but there was something else that stirred in her that told her she didn’t. Quite the contrary, she knew that it was inevitable that she would love him as Rose’s son, she she loved him from the moment his eyes met hers, and he reached his hands up to her curiously.

“Hello, Steven,” she said, and then she actually did start crying, holding him close.

She loved him.

#steven universe #asks #pearl #garnet #amethyst #greg universe #this took way longer than it should have

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donnythewriter · 5 years ago

Text

The Things We Protect - Issue #1

INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

A flashlight shines across shipping containers. The light illuminates reflects off each one.

DONOVAN "MIKE/MIKEE" PAULSEN, (30) walks forward.

He's Caucasian, 6"1, black hair, brown eyes, skinny build. His medium, styled hair carries a gentlemen's cut, and his face carries a five o'clock shadow. A visible scar sits below his left eye.

The bags on Don's eyes show through the dim light.

Don has an AR slung around the front of him. He wears a pair of jeans and a tan plate carrier sits over a white button up shirt. On his shoulder sits a Sentinel Securities ID.

Don wears an earpiece.

The radio comes to life as MARCUS MATTHEWS, (34) keys his microphone.

Marcus is 6"4, with short auburn hair and brown eyes. He wears a plate carrier with a white button up and a clip on tie.

MARCUS (earpiece) All teams, radio check.

MICHAEL CHAVEZ, (24) keys his radio. He's Hispanic, 5"9 with short black hair. He wears a black baseball cap and a tan plate carrier. He carries a VEPR AK patterned rifle.

CHAVEZ Alpha one, check.

PAUL CARTER, (25) keys his microphone. He's a skinny Caucasian with short brown hair and blue eyes, 6"0. He wears a pair of square glasses and carries a CZ Bren, with a Beretta 92 on his hip.

CARTER Alpha two, check.

Marcus sighs into the radio.

Don fumbles with his microphone.

DON Fucking shit-

He keys the microphone.

DON (CONT’D) (into radio) Alpha three, check.

CONRAD MILLER, (28) keys his microphone. He's Caucasian, with a light tan, brown eyes, and 6"2 with a muscular build. His tired eyes show under the warehouse lights.

CONRAD Alpha four, check.

Don yawns. He meets back up with Conrad.

CONRAD (CONT’D) How you liking the job so far?

DON About what I expected.

Another narrow conex hallway in front of them.

CONRAD You want to switch?

Don chuckles.

DON It's the same damn thing here, dude!

Conrad shrugs.

DON (CONT’D) Fuck it.

The two switch sides.

The same setup sits in front of Don.

DON (CONT’D) (muttering) Told him.

Don walks forward, light forward.

A thud.

MARCUS (earpiece) All units, report.

CHAVEZ Alpha one, all clear here.

CARTER Alpha two, nothin' to note here.

Don takes out his ear piece and listens again.

A louder and more noticeable thud.

Don puts his earpiece back in.

MARCUS (earpiece) Paulsen, report, damn it.

DON (into mic) Alpha three reporting, I got something.

Don slings his rifle forward.

DON (CONT’D) WHO'S THERE?!

Don pushes forward and flicks the safety off his rifle.

DON (CONT’D) Fuck is that?

Louder bangs- Something metallic.

His chest heaves as he moves forward. Don slows down and begins to control his breaths.

More bangs come from next to him.

DON (CONT’D) Who the fuck is in the container?

He looks to both sides of him.

Nothing.

Don puts his earpiece back in.

DON (CONT’D) (into earpiece) Be advised, found the source of the sound.

MARCUS Copy that, don't open that till we-

DON Fuck that.

Don takes out a pair of bolt cutters and cuts the locks off the shipping container. He keeps his hand on his rifle, turns on its light, and keeps it trained at the door.

Don swings the door open.

INT. SHIPPING CONTAINER - NIGHT

His once tired eyes change to those of shock.

DON Oh, fuck.

Children lay on cots inside the container. One bucket sits on each end of the container. Don covers his mouth and tries to mask the stench of the container.

At the very front, a child stands there. Don places his light on him. His blue eyes shine in the darkness, his bowl cut blonde hair shining off the light.

IND CHILD 1 Mama? Это ты?

DON What?!

Don looks past him and shines his light on the others.

DON (CONT’D) English?

The child's eyes give Don a blank stare.

IND CHILD 1 Это ты?

DON I don't...

Marcus walks into the container.

MARCUS Hey, buddy...

Don lowers his weapon. The child starts to rub his eyes.

DON Hey man, we gotta go to the feds about this-

Behind Don, Chavez and Carter appear behind him.

Marcus gets closer and holds something sharp in his hand.

DON (CONT’D) Hey what the hell are you-

Marcus stabs the child in the shoulder with the syringe and takes it out.

DON (CONT’D) Motherfucker!

Don raises his handgun only for Carter and Chavez to put him in a head lock. Marcus pulls the gun out of his hand.

The child falls in front of him. Don struggles to get out of their grasp as one kicks the back of his leg and brings him to his knees. He falls forward and lets out a cry of pain as he falls forward.

Marcus picks the child up and sets him down in an empty cot.

Marcus walks over to Don.

His demeanor is calm, casual.

MARCUS Donovan Paulsen. (smiles) You live with your daughter, formerly Ashley Wren Jackson, now Ashley Paulsen at 4333 West Bell Road, apartment 2043 in Phoenix.

Don looks up at him with anger.

DON These are god damn kids!

MARCUS Donny, Donny, Donny.

Don tries to struggle only to get held back as he looks up at Marcus.

MARCUS (CONT’D) Always the pessimist, aren't you? You never were one for the bigger picture.

Don's eyes widen as he looks behind Marcus at the children on cots.

DON They're in fucking shipping containers...

MARCUS You are standing in front of a moving train, Don. I'm just protecting our bottom line. Now. You get in our way.

He reaches into a holster and pulls out a suppressed Ruger Mark 2 and chuckles.

MARCUS (CONT’D) And I'm going to kill your daughter and make you watch.

He reaches into Don's vest pocket and takes out a picture of Ash.

MARCUS (CONT’D) I've known you awhile buddy. I know that you'll be fine, long as your Ashley stays safe, you're happy. I shoot you, well she gets everything doesn't she? Ash is a great kid by the way, always raises her hand to ask questions and gets along with all the guys in her class. A bit different to what you were back in the day huh?

Don just looks down at the metal container's floor.

MARCUS (CONT’D) Besides, capping four of your guys isn't a very heroic thin-

Don's eyes widen.

His fists clench up and he lunges forward.

DON FUCK YOU!

Marcus laughs.

Carter and Chavez pull him back.

MARCUS Can you believe this fucking guy? A "hero". If he was such a hero his wife wouldn't have run off on him-

DON IT AIN'T YOUR GOD DAMN BUSINESS YOU SON OF A BITCH!

Don lunges forward but gets pulled back by the two that hold his arms.

MARCUS You're so cute when you get pissy like that. Now, what's it gonna be?

Don goes silent as the anger on his face subsides. He goes calm, only for a moment.

His face changes to that of disgust.

DON I won't talk.

Marcus reaches into another vest pocket. He takes Don's wallet.

Marcus takes out Don's license snaps a photo of it. He puts it all back and throws his wallet down.

MARCUS Pick your shit up and get back to it then.

The two let him go.

DON Yeah... Sure.

The three walk out.

Don still looks at the container, shock in his eyes.

The kids in cots line the shipping container as Don stands back up and walks out.

The light shines on half his face. The other part of it stays dark. He backs away and doesn't take his eyes off the kids inside.

The light inside the crate disappears as Don closes it.

CUT TO:

INT. CORPORATE OFFICE - DAY

Don walks past a wall that reads, SENTINEL SECURITIES.

DON I can't believe they actually took me.

Don walks through a corridor. He wears a suit, the jacket open.

DAWN "MICHELLE" PAULSEN, (34) walks beside him. She's tan 5"9, with dirty blonde hair and blue eyes.

MICHELLE Well, a lot of things tend to when you're the "Hero of Houston". Big damn hero you are.

Don shrugs.

DON If it's just that, then I don't really deserve it now, do I?

Michelle rolls her eyes then stops.

MICHELLE Honestly? You don't, Mikey.

DON Excuse me?

Michelle pulls out a security card and opens a door for him.

MICHELLE First door to the right. Make sure not to kill anyone along the way.

Don raises his arms as anger registers on his face.

DON You weren't there!

She motions for him to enter. Don walks inside. The door closes behind him.

He takes a deep breath.

DON (CONT’D) (muttering) Cunt.

Don walks forward and enters

MEETING ROOM - DAY

Matthews gives Don a warm smile.

MARCUS Just wanted to congratulate you, Mr. Paulsen. You're going to great on our team.

Don shakes his hand with a nervous grin.

DON So, what am I going to be doing exactly? I wasn't really clued in on that.

MARCUS Just security on high value cargo from the Ukraine.

Don nods.

DON Anything I'll need?

MARCUS Just everything you used during the course, no real preference. It's all you.

Marcus gives a warm smile to him.

DON Sounds good then.

Marcus puts his hand out and offers a handshake.

The two shake hands.

MARCUS How's tomorrow night sound for your first day?

DON I don't see an issue.

Marcus grins.

MARCUS See you tomorrow then.

Don walks out and takes the elevator down.

CUT TO:

INT. FORD MUSTANG - DAY

Don gets into his car and takes out his phone.

He thumbs through his contacts and calls "Ashley". The contact has a picture of a wrench on it.

Below it reads, "My personal mechanic" and "daughter".

Don waits a few moments.

ASHLEY "ASH" PAULSEN, (18) picks up the call.

ASH (O.S.) Yeah, what's up?

DON Hey, just got off work, you need anything?

ASH (O.S.) Snap-Ons would be nice.

DON You actually want me to get you them?

ASH (O.S.) Nah, my cheap shit should do me just fine.

DON In that case, I'll meet you back home.

Don gets on the freeway. The hair on his arms stick up. His vision starts to close in as he continues to drive.

JACQUELINE "JACKIE" MILLER, (28) sits next to him. She's 6"0, average build, and has a decent sized rack. She wears a tan jacket with a pair of jeans. On the left side of her belt she wears a Hartford Police badge, on her right wears her police issue Glock 17.

JACKIE You know it wasn't going to work out Don.

Don looks forward and drives through traffic.

DON Did you have the right? You didn't even come to me about it.

JACKIE We both know it wouldn't have- I barely had enough to afford the mortgage and your security gig wasn't enough to-

DON WE COULD'VE MADE IT...

He turns to his side. Tears well in his eyes.

The empty seat sits next to him. He shakes his head.

DON (CONT’D) ...Work. It's only been a month and I'm having that conversation again. Motherfucker.

CUT TO:

EXT. APARTMENT PARKING LOT - DAY

The Mustang pulls up to the apartment. Don steps out and closes the door behind him. He locks the car.

INT. APARTMENT - DAY

Don walks in and closes the door behind him.

Ash sits on the couch and plays on a PS4. She's a 5"8 blue eyed brunette and wears a pair of jeans with a green "82nd Airborne" T-shirt.

Ash's brunette hair is in a ponytail and she wears a red baseball cap over it.

Don motions to the dishes.

DON You plan on getting these done any time soon?

ASH Yeah, yeah, sure dad.

Don sits on the couch next to her.

DON You doing okay? What you got there?

Ash shrugs.

ASH As good as I can be. Uncharted. One of the guys in my class won't stop talking about it, some shit about the story. Enjoying it so far.

DON Hey, that's good. I wanted to apologize.

Ash pauses the game and cocks an eyebrow at him.

ASH For what?

Don just shrugs. He opens his mouth to say something but can't find the words.

DON When I'm able to explain it, I will. I gotta get ready for work.

Ash looks down at his hand.

ASH Is it about mom?

DON Yeah... It's about mom.

Don stands up to go to his room.

Ash goes back to playing Uncharted.

DON'S BEDROOM

A newer model TV sits there plugged into a PS2, a PS4, and a PS3.

A gaming PC rig sits next to all of those. A walk in closet sits in front of him. To his right is a bathroom. He goes into the restroom and comes out to get ready. He's freshly shaved, his hair in neat order.

He puts on his clothes and puts on his white dress shirt with a plate carrier, then puts on a pair of jeans.

He reaches for a pair of tan combat boots and puts them on.

Don goes into the walk in closet, taking an AR out of it then puts his Sig in its holster and walks out of the room.

MAIN APARTMENT

Don walks over to Ash. She takes the time to look over.

ASH Gonna go shoot someone?

Don shrugs.

DON I don't know. What I am gonna do is head out, and when I come back I want you to make sure those damn dishes are done.

She sighs and rolls her eyes.

ASH Fine. I'll get 'em done.

Don steps out of the house.

CUT TO:

INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

The door to the conex box closes behind him.

Don stands there.

MATTHEWS Now that we're all on the same page...

Matthews shoots a look to Don and motions to Conrad.

MATTHEWS (CONT’D) Keep an eye on Mr. Paulsen.

Don looks back at Conrad and gives him a scowl.

Conrad nods at Matthews.

CONRAD Yes, sir.

MATTHEWS Good work tonight gents, we'll be �� back it tomorrow. Hooah?

Don still carries a look of confusion and fear in his eyes.

CONRAD Hooah.

CHAVEZ Hooah.

DON Hooah.

CARTER Hooah.

Don walks out into

EXT. WAREHOUSE PARKING LOT - NIGHT

The rain pours down. Don steps out, walks to his car, and starts undoing his plate carrier.

Conrad walks behind him.

Don walks over to his car.

CONRAD Paulsen.

Don opens the trunk to his mustang and puts his plate carrier in it.

Conrad reaches his hand out.

CONRAD (CONT’D) Doc, you son of a bitch, come on.

Don slams the trunk of his Mustang closed.

CONRAD (CONT’D) PAULSEN!

DON WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!

Don raises his arms at him in anger.

Conrad glares at him.

CONRAD Keep your fucking voice down, you trying to get these guys on your ass?

Conrad puts his hands up.

CONRAD (CONT’D) Paulsen, look I'm trying not to do what he says.

Don gets into the driver's seat of his car.

CONRAD (CONT’D) Let's talk.

INT. FORD MUSTANG - NIGHT

Don gets into his car and unlocks the door.

Conrad gets in next to him.

CONRAD You should've said no to that offer.

DON Oh, now you tell me. What happened to you?

Conrad looks down.

CONRAD It's complicated-

DON Kids in shipping containers? Complicated? Killing the dude who got your ass out of, oh I dunno...

He starts counting on his fingers.

DON (CONT’D) One, two, three, four- EIGHT FUCKING BINDS?!

CONRAD The last guy was one of ours back in the day.

Don leans back.

DON And I'm supposed to care, why?

CONRAD It was Cho.

Don shakes his head in anger.

DON (muttering) Fuck. Had to be Ricky, had to be fucking Ricky.

CONRAD I got a plan, but I need you with me, not against me.

DON Okay, Dutch. Does this plan involve Tahiti?

CONRAD Jesus, still a smart ass after all these fuckin' years ain't you?

DON Not much has changed.

Conrad opens the door.

CONRAD Keep your head down. When the time comes, you'll know.

Conrad gets out and closes the door behind him.

Don sighs and sits back.

DON Motherfucker.

He starts his car and drives off.

CUT TO:

INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Don comes into his apartment and turns the light on.

He looks at the kitchen sink.

There's still dirty dishes in it.

DON Ah, damn it. Fuck.

Don goes into her room. Ash sleeps and wears shorts and a t- shirt.

DON (CONT’D) You actually asleep?

No response from her.

Don rolls his eyes.

DON (CONT’D) (muttering) Great, just fucking great.

He goes into the kitchen and starts washing dishes.

During this, Ash comes out.

DON (CONT’D) Ash, I told you to clean these- Come on.

Ash yawns.

ASH Fuck, slipped my mind, sorry. I had homework.

Don sighs.

DON There's gonna be a time where I'm not gonna be here, you know that right?

ASH Well, if it's any consolation, I found this.

She takes out a Gameboy Advanced SP from her front pocket.

Don's eyes widen. He stops cleaning the dishes and dries his hands on his jeans.

He opens it up and looks at the cartridge in it.

DON (softly) Sweetie, was there a charger with it?

Don reaches out for it.

ASH Five dollars.

DON You fuckin' serious?

ASH No.

She smirks at him then passes it.

Don takes out the cartridge.

DON Pokemon Sapphire...

His eyes look down.

ASH Can I have it, dad?

Don looks down. His gaze goes blank.

IND PERSON 1 (O.S.) Can I have it? I'll give it back.

He shakes his head.

DON Yeah, sure Ash- Not a uh... Problem. You can have it.

A knock at the door.

The clock on the microwave reads, "12:00".

Don reaches into the side of his waistband and takes out his Colt Defender.

DON (CONT’D) (CONT’D) Ash, get away from the door.

ASH Dad?

Don gets in front of her and keeps his gun trained at the door.

DON Who's there?!

IND PERSON 2 (O.S.) Courier service.

The footsteps move away from the door.

Don keeps the gun against the door and looks through the peephole.

He looks into it. A figure wearing jeans and a hoodie runs down the staircase.

Don opens the door, his weapon aimed forward.

A yellow envelope sits on the ground below. His weapon still trained at the staircase, he picks up the envelope.

Don holsters his gun.

DON Ash-

Don stops. He opens the envelope.

Pictures of Ash going into class appear. They all carry red Xes on them.

More photos appear as he looks through them.

ASH Dad, what is it?

DON Fuck.

Don's eyes widen.

ASH Dad? Talk to me. Come on.

Ash looks at him with concern.

Don goes into his room and closes the door behind him.

DON Don't fuckin' worry about it.

DON'S ROOM

Don sits at his desk and dumps out the pictures in front of him.

He places his hands on his head as he starts to look through all of them.

DON (CONT’D) Oh, no. No, no, no...

He lays them all out.

The photos are all time stamped with the Don and Ash's routine. Ash works on her car in one photo.

In another, Don is out on a run.

DON (CONT’D) Fuck.

Don buries his head in his hands.

DON (CONT’D) (whispering) I can't fucking help them- But I can get Ash out of this. I die, they have nothing and no one to leverage anymore...

Don takes his gun out of his waistband and puts it to the side of his skull. Tears roll down his eyes.

DON (CONT’D) (whispering) They're after me, no more me, no more problems. It'll be easier. She mourns me for a few weeks, gets 1.5 million dollars, all my guns.

He takes a deep breath, puts his finger on the trigger.

DON (CONT’D) (whispering) It'll be easier this way.

A knock at the door.

ASH (O.S.) Dad?

Don exhales and puts the gun back on the table. His eyes widen.

DON (muttering) Oh my fucking god.

Don looks at the door. His hands shake.

DON (CONT’D) Y-Yeah, sweetheart?

ASH There's still food in the fridge if you were looking for it.

DON I'll uh... Yeah, I'll be out there in a sec.

ASH (O.S.) You need me to call the cops?

Don stops and takes a moment.

DON I don't think they'll be able to help us, Ash.

Don unlocks the bottom of his desk with a key and throws the pictures into it then relocks it.

DON (CONT’D) She'll find it- I need her to.

Don stands up and opens the door.

MAIN APARTMENT

DON (CONT’D) Hey.

Ash cocks an eyebrow at him.

ASH Dad, what the fuck is going on?

Don just shakes his head.

DON The less you know the safer you'll be.

ASH What the fuck does that mean?!

DON I'll tell you later.

Ash rolls her eyes.

ASH It's always fucking like this with you, dad! You're gonna get into trouble and-

She lets out an angered scream as she goes into her room and slams the door.

Don just looks forward with a tired stare.

He changes his clothes and goes to bed.

CUT TO:

INT. WAREHOUSE - NIGHT

Don walks through the warehouse again.

He's alone. The lights around him shut off.

Another light turns on and shines over a conex box. The same one Don had entered previously.

Don walks over to it.

A metallic "thud" comes from the box.

IND VOICE 1 (O.S.) Doc?! Doc I NEED HELP MAN! PAULSEN!

A scream comes from the box.

Don runs over and opens it, wide eyed.

Men with black eyes wearing military fatigues sit on the cots. They don't notice him, rather just sit there and look at one thing in particular-

The Russian kid from earlier sits in the middle of them.

The child looks up at him with bright blue eyes.

RUSSIAN CHILD Why couldn't you help me?

INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT

Don wakes up screaming and crying.

DON GO AWAY, FUCKING GO AWAY!

He holds a pillow and cries.

Don gets out of bed and checks his phone.

"0300"

DON (CONT’D) I think I've slept enough.

Don gets up and goes to his bathroom.

CUT TO:

INT. CAFETERIA - DAY

Don just eats and reads a book on his phone. His eyes carry a look of fatigue.

Michelle walks over.

MICHELLE HIYA MIKEE!

She carries a smile on her face and sits in front of him. Don gives a dejected look.

MICHELLE (CONT’D) What's wrong Mikee? Hey.

DON Did you know?

She cocks heard head sideways.

MICHELLE Mike, what- what are you talking about?

Don leans in.

DON The damn kids.

Michelle's eyes widen, then look down away from him.

MICHELLE ...I didn't know.

He takes a moment, then stares her dead in the eyes.

Don leans in.

DON (whispering) You're fucking lying to me.

MICHELLE (whispering) Think of your daughter, Mikee. You really want her to end up dead because of you? Keep your mouth shut, your head down, and your wallet's gonna thank you for it.

Don scowls at her and leans back.

Matthews approaches and stops with a plate of food.

MATTHEWS Ah, Mister Paulsen! I see you've met the love of my life.

Don winces at this.

MATTHEWS (CONT’D) Hey there, baby.

He gives Michelle a kiss. She blushes and giggles.

DON Y'know, I ain't hungry anymore.

He walks out in anger.

#screenwriting #writing #scifi #mystery

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