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rmoonstoner · 2 years ago

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The Temple

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Chapter 1 - Our Hystory Makes Who We Are

***

Warnings:

18+ smut, angst, and fluff, sexual themes, foul language, traumatic past memories, mentions of Randall dying, graphic depictions of a car accident, mutual pining, happy ending, mentions of death, injuries, blood, and gore, trauma, childhood trauma,

This is a one shot. I have no plans to make a sequel. I MIGHT make a follow up, but I don't know. I am a clown. 🤡

Summary:

Khonshu has been asked by his sister, Hathor, to retrieve a priceless artifact. She has specifically asked for you to accompany his Avatar(s), and not Layla, yet Hathor refuses to say why. Khonshu doesn't give two shits about why, nor does he care enough to ask. All he cares about is the fact that Hathor guaranteed him of your safety.

There's just one thing… You have been head over heels in love with Marc, Jake, and Steven for years. In fact, you were the only one who knew about all of the alters, even when they didn't, and each one had a special connection to you and fell in love with you, but they refused to say anything, fearing you would leave them.

***

You met Marc first, so long ago, when you were children. You had met him the year before his brother had died. You would see him and his brother every weekend when your parents got together to drink and play cards, while the three of you would play out in the yard, or down in your basement playing games on an old Nintendo or Sega. Things were great, and Marc was always kind to you, mostly because you were so nice to his brother, making sure he was always included, even though he was younger.

You would play video games at your house on the game systems. You were nice to Randall, letting him win all the time, but you never showed any mercy to Marc, and kicked his ass every time. When you went to their house, you would play in the woods or the creek behind their home.

Just being with them made your life so much brighter. You didn't have many friends to begin with, and you had just moved to their neighborhood. Now for the past year, you've spent nearly every day with them, the weekends being your favorite.

Even though you made new friends, you spent a lot of time with Marc and Randall. They were your favorite, because Marc was your best friend, and his sweet little tag along brother was no bother to you.

Then one day, the accident happened.

The day that Marc's brother died.

It was a regular cloudy day, during the flooding season. You were playing outside, and exploring the area like you always did with them, but today was different. Today the boys were trying to impress you, by showing you the caves in the woods. You had never seen a flood before, so you didn't know why it was so important to stay away from the creek and the caves.

But Marc knew better, and yet all he wanted to do was show you the cool caves, hoping to impress you. He figured it would be an in and out job, but alas, things didn't go according to plan. The cave had filled with water too fast, and you and Randall had gotten stuck in a deep end of the cave.

You and Randall panicked and cried. You managed to calm down enough to talk Randall down as you held him up on your shoulders to keep him out of the water. While trying to help Randall up the wall to his brother, he slipped and kicked you in the face. You were temporarily stunned and you lost your balance and slipped, falling back against the rocks.

Everything went black as your head and back filled with pain, and you inhaled dirty water. Your body didn't put up much of a fight, and you didn't move, blood trailing down your face as you faded away into unconsciousness. Randall was screaming about you being hurt and bleeding to Marc, and Marc had scrambled up that wall so fast, he had no idea how he had done it.

Unfortunately by now, Marc had a choice to make, to save you first, or his brother, then go back for the other, and it would forever haunt him. He didn't even know if you were still alive, but he leapt to you first, and scrambled up the wall again to drag you all the way out of the caves to safety. He somehow got you breathing, then raced back to get his brother.

The same thing happened to Randall in his panic to get out while being alone.

Tragedy struck, and Randall died.

Marc had chosen to rescue you first, and ever since then he had changed. You blamed yourself for it, and you believed it was your fault that Randall died. He never once said it was your fault, but he also never said it wasn't, either. He blamed himself the most, and became a broken shell of your best and most precious friend.

Marc and his family were never the same. Ever since his brother died, his mother became a mean drunk, and your parents decided they didn't want you to go there anymore, because she blamed you just as much as she blamed Marc for Randall's death. The visits suddenly stopped, and you didn't see them until the funeral, then it was once a month you would get together, but usually away from Marc's home.

Soon the visits petered out to once every two months, then three, until it was three times a year, when Marc would be shipped off to your house for the Spring, Summer, and Winter breaks away from school, and his mother. It was your father's idea to invite Marc over so often, trying to do Marc's father a favor to try and keep his son away from his abusive wife.

Abuse you didn't have any idea about.

You noticed over the next three years that Marc had changed drastically. He would zone out a lot, and you assumed he was daydreaming to chase away the pain, but when he would come to, it was like a switch had been flipped, and he was no longer your best friend.

Well not the one you had met anyway.

This new version of himself was timid, shy, and soft-spoken, very much like Randall. He was quiet and barely spoke, choosing to read books all day, but if you asked about what he was reading, which you always did, he would tell you all about it with such passion, energy and gratitude. He was nicer when he was like this, truly a sweetheart, and the very definition of a good boy.

He suddenly started opening doors for you, insisting for you to go first. He was pulling your chairs out for you to sit, giving up his spot if there was nowhere to sit. If there was only one treat left, you gave it to him, only for him to break it in half to share it with you. He would make sure to walk between you and the road, and he always kept your pace. He would listen patiently and not interrupt you while you spoke.

Even though he looked the same, he was entirely different. His eyes were lighter, and he smiled more. His voice changed, and he sounded British, which you didn't mind. You had always made comments to Marc that you liked the English accent, and that they always sounded friendly, even when they were mad.

It was six months after Randall had died, that this new Marc told you his name was Steven Grant. You recognized the name from one of Marc's favorite movies, some sort of archeologist treasure hunter like Indiana Jones. You didn't dare laugh, or make fun of him for it, figuring Marc was playing pretend or whatever to cope. You went along with it, and made friends with Steven, the gentle and sweet cinnamon roll.

Steven was a very good friend, always kind and considerate of your wants and needs. When Marc came back, acting like his old self, he would apologize profusely about checking out and leaving you with a broken version of himself. You assured him it was fine, and that you enjoyed Steven's company, and valued both his and Marc's friendship. He begged you not to tell Steven about him, and to just let Steven live a happy and simple life, free from his horrible mother. You agreed, and were there for them, through thick and thin.

His father, Elias, noticed the change as well, and he took notice of the fact that you knew, and you didn't make fun of his son or try to push him away. He noticed how you would always call his son by the name of whoever was in control, like it was second nature, and for that he was ever grateful.

A year after meeting Steven, during the Christmas holiday, you met Jake.

Marc was shipped off to your house, mostly because his mother demanded a vacation to Hawaii, and she was dead set on not having Marc there. Your family did Marc right, and they decorated your home with both Christmas and Hanukkah things. Anything they needed for Hanukkah, they made sure it was there for the boys. Your family celebrated both holidays, and they made sure to include them in Christmas.

Your parents got Marc practical and useful gifts both he, and Steven would enjoy. They knew about Steven, but they never really talked to you about it, but you knew that knew, by how they treated Marc when he was Steven. It was a silent understanding. Plus there was absolutely no way they could deny ever hearing you outright calling Marc, Steven.

Every traditional thing that could happen for Hanukkah, happened. Giving the daily gifts, usually small toys or candy coins and using them to play games, like Dreidel. Your dad would read scripture readings every day, and your mom would make home-cooked snacks, like latkes and jellied filled donuts.

Three stockings were hung over the fireplace, all plain and unmarked. When Steven had asked who the third one was for, your parents claimed it was for the local charity for one lucky child to receive. He accepted that answer, and because he was such a well behaved lad, he never peeked inside of any of them.

On Christmas morning, Steven was up before Marc, and when he came down, your family did a round of gifts, and let him check his stocking. Then once all of his things were gathered and stashed away in Marc's suitcase, Marc came out and you all did another round of gifts.

It was the day after, on Boxing day, a tradition of massive sales just starting to become a thing, when Jake came tumbling out.

You were in a large mall, scouting out the toy and electronics sections with Steven, when you had found the last copy of the video game you had been wanting for a while in the bottom of a bargain bin. You held it in your hands, a look of triumph on your face as you squealed and said you were going to buy it.

Some large older boys happened to overhear you, and one of them snatched it from your hands. You tried to get it back, but they laughed at you and shoved you around while calling you names. You begged Steven to help, at the very least help take you away from them, but he froze up.

Boy did he ever. You saw him twitch and his brows furrowed. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he calmly asked for the boys to stop. The second he spoke, the boys started making fun of him for his accent, calling him weak and stupid, among other hurtful names.

Again Steven twitched, and you thought for a split second that Marc was coming out to deal with the situation, but boy were you wrong.

Your friend growled as he took a few steps forward with a mean look in his eyes, and his teeth bared in a threatening sneer.

"Give her back the game. She found it first, gilipollas." The boys laughed in his face, with one of them shoving him and knocking him on his ass. He snarled as he got up, and shoved the guy back, then kicked him in the balls in a swift movement. He turned and punched another in the face, breaking his nose in the process. The last boy standing handed the game right over and he ran off.

You ended up getting the game, and neither of you got in trouble, thanks to the clerk who had arrived just in time to see the whole thing start because of those unruly boys. The whole car ride home, your friend was quietly watching how happy you were to read the box and the little booklet that came with the game. He decided that your smile was precious, and he would do anything to make sure people like those delinquents never harmed you again.

He was quiet when you unboxed the game completely, and stuck it into your console. You did a happy little dance when the title screen came on, without having to fuck around with it like most of the games for that system. You asked him to play with you, and he did. It wasn't a game where you beat each other up, it was a cooperative puzzle game, and he seemed like he loved it. He barely spoke at all, but he smiled when he saw how much fun you were having.

You spent the whole day with him, noticing how he was again so different. This boy sounded much different from Marc or Steven, and he spoke fluent Spanish sometimes. Especially when he lost a game of beat 'em up with you. You didn't understand the words he would say, but he was just as nice to you as the other two were. Before bed, he told you his name was Jake Lockley, and that he wished to remain a secret to both Marc and Steven, so you kept his secret.

***

Over the years you maintained the routine of Marc coming by during breaks, and it became increasingly clear that he was much safer in your home, than his. Everytime he would come back to your family, he would be covered in cuts and bruises, or other worse injuries, like a broken nose, or busted up hand on multiple occasions. Your parents never noticed Jake, but he was always the one to greet you when Marc arrived at your house. He would stay just long enough to say hi and have a shower, then he would switch out, allowing Steven or Marc out to live their lives with you and your family.

High school was rough for Marc, and he always let Steven take control while at school, then take control when he got home. He started to spend less and less time there, and came to your house more frequently. You grew closer and closer to each of them, until high school was done, when Marc mysteriously vanished off to the military.

You barely heard from him, but when you did, you always picked up where you left off, like nothing could break your friendship.

What you didn't know, was that Marc had been seeing a therapist. He had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, and he had told his therapist he was scared he could never be happy for the rest of his life. He would be blazingly happy when he talked about you, which was a very popular topic of choice when he saw his therapist.

Then one day… One day his therapist suggested that Marc might be deeply in love with you, and he was really actually scared that you wouldn't return his feelings. That if he told you, you would run from him, a broken man with multiple people in one body. His therapist tried to reason with him, that you never had run from him before, and that you had been his friend for so long, even when he would disappear for months at a time.

His therapist would ask him questions about you all the time. What you were like, how your life was going. He knew everything about you from his talks with Marc, and because of the enthusiasm of which he would speak about you, told the therapist everything he needed to know.

***

It was right after yours and Marc's twenty-fifth birthdays, that you had gotten hurt. You were in a terrible accident that involved a taxi cab that you were in. You had almost died in that accident, and Marc had witnessed it.

The cab you were in was almost at your workplace, where Marc was waiting to surprise you. He had managed to get a text from you, saying you were handing in your notice that day, because you got your dream job in England. A job at a famous museum, the very same one that Steven dreamed of working in. You told him you might be able to get him a job some day, if you stayed long enough.

Marc had brought flowers, your favorite candy, and a necklace. The necklace was just like his, and you had said on multiple visits that you loved the way the Star of David looked on him, and though you weren't Jewish, you wanted one. Marc's father had heard about it, and he gave him Randall's necklace to give to you, knowing that if anyone deserved to wear it, it was you.

His plan was to say hi, then allow Steven to come out right after to discuss your future in London, while he stayed in the background watching the two of you interact. He would briefly take over after Steven gave you the flowers, which were your favorite. The flowers were Steven's idea. Then Marc would give you the necklace, and switch out again.

But as Marc stood there at your place of work, he could see the taxi driving towards him. You had just texted him to say you were excited to see him again. You could see him, and that you were waving. He looked up after he read the text, hoping to spot you inside, when a large delivery truck came out of nowhere and collided with the cab.

The cab was hit full force, flipping the car three times, before it slammed into a vacant bus stop. He had heard the sickening sounds of the crash…

The exceptionally loud bang, the screeching sounds of metal crunching and crumpling…

The scraping of metal on concrete and the smashing of glass…

He heard the cab driver scream as it happened, then when the car finally stopped, the driver was silent…

But he couldn't hear you at all. He didn't even hear you scream, nor did he get to see your face. All he saw was that your body was violently projected out of the open window where you were sitting, and now you were sprawled out in the middle of the road. He saw the way the car was totaled, and his heart dropped in his chest.

He started running, forgetting his duffle bag and the flowers next to the security guard where he was standing next to. His legs carried him as fast as they could, making it to you in just under a minute. He knelt by your side, and tried to see how badly hurt you were. You had a broken arm, cuts and scrapes everywhere. Your nose was bleeding, and you were barely breathing.

He could still, to this day, remember the gurgling sound of the air trying to escape you…

How you struggled to breathe, and how you didn't move…

How your eyes looked into his, pleading with him to help you without words.

He held your hand, telling you that help was on the way, that at least five people were dialing the emergency line to call an ambulance. He was terrified you would pass away in his arms, his only friend, and the only person he loved more than anything else in the world.

Before you passed into unconsciousness, you uttered the words he had only ever dreamed of hearing from you.

"I love you. All of you."

All three of them had heard you say it.

***

Marc had let Steven out after you became stable in the hospital, but not before putting his brother's necklace on you in the hopes that you would see it when you woke up. When Steven came out, he was confused for a brief moment. Steven was shocked to be in the building, and when he turned his head, hearing beeping and the whirring of machinery, he saw your weak form on the bed, attached to all the machines.

His heart dropped.

All he remembered was waking up that morning, excited to see you and spend a week with you to help you pack. Now he was in a hospital, standing over you, wondering what had happened.

He grabbed the patient clipboard to read what had happened, and his heart nearly broke. He canceled all his plans, as did Marc in order to stay by your side until you were better. They both would do anything and everything to aid you, and it would take months for you to get better.

Steven would read to you in the mornings as you ate your breakfast. He would end up bringing you snacks and drinks frequently, and he made sure to keep your apartment nice and clean.

Marc took the initiative to call your landlord, telling him that you had an accident and were in need of staying until you healed up. He told his father about it, and the man had shown up with a basket of things for when you went home. He even helped Marc with making it livable there for the first week, and Marc had slept in your bed.

Unfortunately after the first week, when Elias left, Marc zoned out and Jake came to the front. Jake had told you Marc couldn't bear to see you like that, but Jake could, and he did. He made sure you were okay, and he did everything in his power to make you smile. Jake would buy you flowers and make you food, while Steven would clean up and help with the chores.

They never mentioned the fact you told all of them that you loved them, and you never spoke of it again. It was a silent understanding that you both knew, but didn't want to bring it up again and possibly ruin your friendship.

***

More years passed, and again Marc slipped into the habit of vanishing for days, weeks, or months. The next time you saw him, he showed up looking tired, and told you he almost died in the desert. That he had seen some shit he didn't wish to talk about. Whatever it was must have been bad, because he refused to tell you about it, no matter how much you asked.

Ever since then, you would see a tall shadowy figure lingering close by to Marc, usually on rooftops or hiding in dark corners. It was as if some mysterious force, a ghost or spirit was haunting him. You'd even catch Marc outright talking to the being, but you would always pretend like you didn't know. That you couldn't see the spirit.

But that figure knew you could see and hear him, yet he didn't inform Marc that you could. He didn't even acknowledge your presence, even when he was talking about you, in front of you.

Then not too long after that, Marc showed back up again. He was with some woman you had never met before, and the way she looked at him made your heart break. You had lost him, and there was nothing you could do about it, but be supportive. You just kept telling yourself that his happiness was more important than your own.

This time, you didn't get to see Steven at all, and that saddened you. You knew Marc was dating this girl, and he was keeping it from Steven. That broke your heart even more, knowing sweet and loving Steven was being buried away so Marc could have some sort of physical connection with someone.

It broke your heart even more when you found out Jake knew about Layla, and that he didn't want to be with her at all. You found out when Marc convinced you to come out with him and Layla to a bar. He told you that Layla had no idea he had Dissociative Identity Disorder, and he didn't want her to find out. You promised, even though it made your heart ache that he was willing to lie to someone her supposedly cared about.

What you didn't know, was that Marc was planning on proposing to this woman, and Jake was purposely trying to screw things up for Marc.

At the bar, Jake took over and started ignoring Layla, in favor of talking to you. He made a point of buying all your drinks, and not offering to pay for Layla's. He took you dancing on the dance floor, and he was very suggestive in the way that he moved with you.

You knew who was fronting, but you kept your promise not to say anything. Instead, you played dumb, like you were innocent to his special treatment. You pretended to be drunker than you already were, so he wouldn't take it too far and hurt that poor girl's feelings more than he already had. This only infuriated Layla, and she started to dislike you more.

But Marc bubbled up after a few drinks, and he still ended up proposing, right in front of you. And for some fucking reason, Layla accepted the proposal. You figured she did it as a slap in the face move.

And it sure was a slap in the face. It was a slap to your very heart.

As Marc was down on one knee, he waited expectantly as Layla inspected the gorgeous looking ring. A ring you had saved a photo of and shown to Jake and Steven. The one you had always wanted if you were to ever get married…

Marc thought he had made the correct choice, that is until he saw your face, and the tears that were forming. Your eyes were focused on the ring, seeing every little detail you wanted, right fucking there on Layla's hand.

He knew he had made a terrible mistake.

He watched as you immediately muttered out a small congratulation to him, then excused yourself and left right after. He didn't see or hear from you for a week, and even then, your texts were short, and only sent after he sent you one. You never reached out to him, and he knew damn well why. You attended his wedding as his best woman, but you remained distant from him, choosing to stay near his father as you stayed perfectly quiet.

When you stepped out to go for a joint in the courtyard to calm down, Elias approached you. His father made a comment that you should have been standing where Layla was, but you brushed it off, saying you just wanted to see Marc happy. If he loved her and was happy, then you would be happy for him.

Elias didn't believe you one bit, and he went to find Marc to tell him he was making a big mistake.

***

The months sped by, and you moved away to England to take that job you always wanted. Sometimes Jake would purposely pull them towards you. He would start verbal fights with Layla, leave Marc to escalate them, leading to Marc getting so angry, he would drink himself silly. Jake would come out, then ditch her to show up at your door, all the way in England. He would say hi, and hug you tightly, then promptly let Steven out to spend as much time as he could with you, going as far as to make sure that Marc's phone was hidden from you and Steven.

It was during these visits that Steven would grow closer to you. He would cuddle with you on the couch, make you tea and he would do housework. It felt almost domestic, and you enjoyed every moment of it, even if you were just dancing around the subject of attraction. It was on one of these visits, that Jake begged you to get Steven a job at the museum you worked at. You were hesitant, because if Marc ever were to come out, he'd most definitely fuck things up for Steven by trying to run from you again. Jake assured you Marc wouldn't dare, because he missed you dearly.

You did get Steven a job, not the one he wanted, but Steven was happy just the same. He was mostly happy that he got to work with you, even if Donna was a major cunt towards him. He would frequently try walk you home and hang out in your flat. At night, he would talk about his day at work, telling you just how much of a bitch Donna was, and how she didn't know jack shit about the museum or the things in it at all. He would complain about JB never getting his damn name right, and you took mental notes to talk to those individuals about it later.

But, Marc would eventually come back, be baffled as to why he was with you, and not with his wife. You could see it in his eyes the moment he was fronting, and then you could see the shame on his face when he sputtered excuses to leave you and go back to her.

To keep shutting out Steven, locking him in a prison of dark nothingness.

You had to lie to Donna frequently, telling her any excuse to keep Steven on as a staff member. Donna would always be pissed about it, but you held more seniority over her, so she couldn't fire him, even if she wanted to.

You didn't know it, but you covering for Steven only made your three boys more fond of you.

***

It wouldn't be until a year later, a whole year of Marc and You not talking to each other. A whole year of only Steven and Jake calling and texting you from different numbers to give you small updates, or to see how you were doing. A whole year of working closely with Steven, having him come over every day…

A whole year of secretly loving him from afar.

Then one day, Jake showed up at your door to inform you that Marc had left Layla. You were both glad and upset to hear that. Glad, because he was single again, but upset that Marc married someone to purposely distance himself from you. Upset, because he had ignored you for so long, but you were still so damned happy to see Jake.

When you asked why Marc left Layla, Jake told you that Marc didn't love her. He was never home, and never did anything nice for her. Jake said Marc only married her, because he felt he was responsible for her father's death, and even then, he felt so guilty that Steven was entirely unaware of it all.

He told you that Marc was living a dangerous life, unbeknownst to Steven, and they were all still hiding or ignorance from each other. Jake sat you down, and finally told you all about the spirit that was following them. It was the God, Khonshu, and they were his Avatars, well Jake and Marc were. Steven still had no idea what the fuck was going on, and was blissfully unaware. You took the news quite well, which surprised Jake. Khonshu introduced himself to you, well officially anyways. Jake seemed flabbergasted that you already knew him, and his master wasn't upset by him telling you about him.

***

A month passed, before you would see any of them again, and when you did, it was a complete surprise.

You were just minding your own business at the museum, trying to get the paperwork done to get rid of Donna and the useless security guard at the front that always got Steven's name wrong. You wanted them gone, either fired or transferred, since you had been promoted. A promotion that happened while the boys had been gone, doing only a certain God knows what.

A very timid and nervous Steven came walking into your office, holding a silly little 'Congratulations' card, a small cactus, and a hopeful expression. He asked if you were mad at him for being gone for so long, and you smiled sweetly at him, assuring him you weren't. He blamed it on his sleeping disorder, which you knew damned well he didn't have, but you just humored him and told him he was still welcome to work at the museum. That you had made special exceptions for people with disorders to be more inclusive.

He was so ecstatic, he hugged you with tears, thanking you for your understanding. That you were truly his best friend, and he didn't deserve you. You told him that was nonsense, as you'd do anything for him, knowing he'd do the same.

Steven had decided he was in love with you from that point on.

***

A week later, one of the women in another department started to show interest in Steven. You paid her or her advances no mind, mostly because she wasn't Steven's type at all, and he wasn't very keen on her brash attitude. She would approach him, and talk to him, and he would be nervous and scared, because only you had ever shown him any sort of interest.

But Steven wasn't interested, and this bitch wouldn't let it go. She mistook Steven's scared hesitation as nervous arousal. She took his stuttering and excuses to get back to work, as being flustered over her. It started to bother you, and Steven would catch you staring, only for you to look away and leave the room shortly after. You left, because you didn't want him to see you cry. To you, it looked like he enjoyed the attention.

Well, Jake was getting angry that this woman wouldn't leave Steven alone. He was sick of seeing your hurt expression. He devised a plan to get her to fuck off, without turning her down outright. Unfortunately, the day he put his plan into motion, you were at work when you shouldn't have been. You were supposed to have the day off, and be at a music festival the next city over.

Steven was scanning a bunch of Egyptian plush toys into the system when that woman approached him again. She flirted with Steven, and he backed away a bit, feigning like his cell phone had gone off. He managed to grab his phone, when the lady outright complimented him on his ass, and how juicy it looked.

In an instant his eyes rolled back as he twitched and stood straighter. He came back over and leaned on the counter with one arm as he stared her in the eye with a shit eating grin on his face. He asked her out on a date to an expensive steakhouse, and she said yes.

When she walked away, he noticed you and Donna were standing there with shocked faces. You turned away and left, and he knew you had seen the whole thing. He saw how your shoulders slumped, how you frowned, and the look of disappointment in your eyes.

Jake had fucked up.

***

So I had to break it up into separate chapters, mostly because Google docs was getting glitchy at 20k words. I still consider this a one shot.

Beta reading thanks to: Little Bean

Proofreading thanks to: I got trigger happy while high. I was supposed to get someone to proof read this for errors. Whoops.

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight series #marvel moon knight #steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #jake lockley x reader #khonshu #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x y/n #jake lockley x you #steven grant x you #steven grant x y/n #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #hathor

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years ago

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weird, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: Your roommate and best friend, Kim Seokjin, forgot to double-check the autofill information and shipped his package from the online sex shop with your name on it. Naturally, this ends with you tying him up and sucking his dick, and him tying you up with you riding him like a wild animal. Wait, what?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends with benefits; crack (sorry, I can't be serious for more than two seconds when writing Seokjin); yes, reader usually fucks younger dudes XD; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics (both switches), bondage, m-receiving oral, thigh riding, cowgirl, spanking); non-idol!BTS - just two best friends fucking for sexual exploration, don't mind them

technically a prequel to love roulette, m | myg yes, this is the explanation to that mysterious package, but is it really an explanation or rather an excuse to fuck WWH, you decide

“Seokjin, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

When Kim Seokjin looked at you, it was a bit like looking into the eyes someone much younger than you even though he wasn’t. He had that youth about him, the ‘here’s-to-never-growing-up’ sparkle in his large brown eyes, complete with parted lips in a small ‘o’ and, alright, yes, his Nintendo Switch in his hands.

“A long time ago, I asked you which way you think you lean, more dominant or more submissive, no?”

His handsome face flushed pink, slowly scooting away from you.

“Er… yeah, I remember…”

“What?”

“Huh?”

You poked him and he squeaked, slapping a hand over his side even though he was wearing a brown sweatshirt. Seokjin was always cold, even during the summer.

Your best friend was an odd character.

You chuckled. “Why are you being so awkward? I thought we were over this phase.”

Well, he should be. You had known Seokjin since elementary school and seen him, er, date was a strong word for what you both were doing in middle and high school, more like being bumbling messes and walking in on each other bonking classmates, but, hey, what mattered is that you both got better at it over the years.

It being sex.

Not romance.

You both still had only sketchy ideas about what romance was supposed to be.

“We are,” your best friend coughed, clearing his throat for absolutely no reason. “We are, I just…”

“Used my name for purchasing goods from an online sex shop?”

He choked and nearly flung his Switch. You caught it, swiftly placing it on the coffee table as you procured the cardboard box from behind your back, already open, address and name circled in thick black permanent marker on the rather inconspicuous package.

“W-What, that’s absurd, why would I ever–?”

You hummed pleasantly, sweeping the box away from his lanky limbs and his flailing hands. For someone who didn’t purchase goods from an online sex shop, he sure was interested in getting the box. He tumbled into your lap, and quickly scrambled back, black hair suddenly fluffed and wild from the movement.

“Something tells me you didn’t check the autocomplete form before clicking submit.”

You saw Seokjin choke on air.

He jerked away from you and fumbled with his phone beside him. You peeked over his broad shoulder and saw that he was scrolling through his emails like a madman, except Seokjin had a bad habit of never deleting any. He had maybe fifteen thousand unread emails to sort though.

“You don’t have to check. I am sure I didn’t order red cotton bondage rope and a leather flogger.”

Seokjin whipped his head around, face redder than a tomato, looking halfway between fainting and screaming.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is it for you or a mysterious imaginary girl that you’re dating?”

Now your best friend seemed to be contemplating holding his own breath until he passed out to avoid your questioning.

“I-It’s not for me!”

“Oooh, then who? You’re not an internet hookup kind of guy though… unless she was dumb enough to put her full name as her username, then she’s too airheaded to be a catfish–”

Seokjin flapped his hands, smacking you in your pajama-covered chest, sputtering. “No one! There’s no one! I just…!”

You caught one of his wrists, raising an eyebrow.

“Just?”

He froze.

Silence.

“… Seokjin?”

You left go of his hand. It stayed there, frozen in the air.

Ah, it seemed as if his soul left his body.

Rest in peace Kim Seokjin. You were the handsomest best friend one could ask for.

You prodded him in the side again and Seokjin doubled over, trying to cover his face with the large sleeves of his sweatshirt, long legs in black sweatpants curling up as if he could cocoon himself away from the conversation.

“Seokjin, you can be interested in whatever you want,” you snickered, placing the package next to his fetal positioned body. “I simply thought it was funny that you accidentally used my name. Although I wouldn’t use that flogger on a real person, only for posing in pictures. In any case, have fun being freaky by yourself and not for some mysterious woman you refuse to tell me about.”

You stood up, about to leave and give your best friend some space. You shouldn’t go too far teasing him after all.

“What do you mean?”

You stopped, looking back. Seokjin’s large brown eyes were peeking out of his splayed fingers, shifting awkwardly when you made eye contact. He cleared his throat. He was doing that a lot for someone who seemed perfectly healthy ten minutes ago, shrieking at himself for missing the ledge in his game and dying.

It had seemed like a good time to interrupt and embarrass him so you could save your eardrums.

He coughed and pointed to the box. “About the… um… whip… thingmabob…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You marched over and opened the box, making Seokjin jolt and cover his red ears instinctively, but you ignored him, pulling out the black pleather flogger you had already unwrapped from the plastic – purely from thinking it was your own package, by the way, no other reason, surely not because you were mildly curious about what your best friend was into, nope – and you slapped the short three tails into your hand, wincing.

“This kind of cheap material is too plastic-like. If you use this on bare skin and hit too hard, you’re going to cut someone and I know you’re squeamish around blood, unless you secretly have a blood fetish too and have been a really good actor all this time–”

“How do you know that?”

You blinked at his question.

“What?”

Seokjin sat up, giving you a confused pout. “Why do you know something like that?”

Now it was your turn to shift your eyes around.

“Uh…”

Er… how to tell your best friend that the younger guy you were casually fucking for the past couple of weeks was, ah, rather knowledgeable about certain things, was, um, interested in teaching, uh, yeah, teaching…

Seokjin squinted at you suspiciously. “Is it that idol trainee that was here two nights ago when I was out drinking with Hose–”

You waved your hands very quickly, tossing the flog aside carelessly and slapping your thigh to silence Seokjin and his far too invasive questions. “Look. I just don’t want you to hurt anybody on accident, okay? Your rope choice was good though. You should always use an organic material for shibari, cotton, hemp, linen if you’re rich, but you’re a cheapskate, so–”

Your best friend narrowed his eyes into slits. “How much younger is that guy compared to you again? Hm? And what was his name? Ye–”

You slapped a hand over Seokjin’s mouth, smiling sweetly and dangerously, reaching into the box and pulling out the red cotton rope.

“I know a lot of knots now and I can tie a noose just for you, Seokjinnie.”

Your best friend, rightfully so, looked terrified.

“Now. Let’s talk about you, okay? Okay.”

You removed your hand and held onto the rope.

Seokjin gulped, but then shook his head vigorously, frowning. “What did you call it?” He was already moving past your death threat. Smart man.

“Call what?”

“Shi-something?”

“Shibari? Japanese rope tying?” You lifted the cotton cord in your hand. “Is that not what this is for?”

Seokjin blinked very rapidly.

You blinked back at him. Then it dawned onto you. “The diamond-y rope patterns where they’re all tied up and stuff.”

“Ah! Yeah! That!”

“You want that done to you?”

Seokjin jerked to one side. “What? No! To someone else. Maybe. No. What?”

You slowly placed the rope on his lap and scooted away.

“Uh… huh. Okay. Enjoy.”

“Wait,” he blurted.

“What?”

“CanIpracticeonyou?”

“Can you WHAT?” you echoed shrilly.

“Right, yeah, okay, never mind–”

“Seokjin.”

Your best friend choked on his own toothbrush and threw himself into the bathroom wall, colliding into the towel bar and howling in pain while simultaneously hacking up a lung.

“I’ve decided I am going to teach you some simple knots to prevent me from having to pick your naked ass up from the police station or hospital,” you said calmly as Seokjin half-died on the floor tangled in your mint green and his navy-blue bath towels. “And because I don’t want to have to cut some poor girl off your bedframe because you’ve blacked out running onto your door trying to find me.”

“I’ve never–” he wheezed.

“But you will if I don’t take precautions,” you cut in, grabbing your purple toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it as Seokjin attempted to collect himself off the ground. “Like that one time you ran into the window when that wasp was in the apartment.”

“That was a fucking wasp, you freaked out too!”

You started brushing your teeth. “Yeah, but I didn’t knock myself out and wake up with a fat bump on my forehead. That was you,” you gargled.

“Ack…”

“Anyway, I know a few things and I figured I would do a good deed and enlighten you.”

“Who taught you? Was it Ye–”

You jabbed Seokjin forcefully in the ribs and he immediately shut up because he choked on his toothbrush again.

“Why do you have scissors?”

“For cutting the rope.”

“Yeah, but why are they so big?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Cool, now I’m gonna tie you up. Give me your hands.”

You unwound the end from the bolt and frowned, nudging his knee with yours. You were both sitting on his bed, him cross legged and you on your knees because he was wearing black sweatpants and you were wearing no pants, just your usual large lavender pajama shirt with a pattern of yellow stars.

“Take off your sweatshirt. It’ll get in the way.”

“But I’m cold.”

“You won’t be because apparently this shit turns you on,” you snickered.

“Shut up, it does not. It’s the other way around,” Seokjin grumbled, yanking his chocolate brown sweatshirt over his head.

You paused.

“I thought you were more sub.”

Seokjin froze, head half-out of his sweatshirt. You waited. He didn’t move. You waited some more. He coughed and chucked the article of clothing aside, yanking his white t-shirt down and smoothing his hair, not looking at you.

You waited.

He smoothed his hair for a full two minutes.

“Um, anyway–”

You planted a hand on his knee and Seokjin tried to chop your hand away, only for you to snatch his wrist, so his other hand came up to stop you, but you wound the end of the rope around his wrist and bounced off his mattress, pinning your knees on top of his knees and making him squeak as he tumbled back into his pillows, bringing you with him. You had to jerk your head out of the way to avoid collision.

“My nuts!”

“I didn’t hit your precious nuts, you numbsku–”

Hang on.

You locked eyes with Seokjin under you, who gawked back at you, absolutely terrified.

“… You are still a sub.”

Seokjin winced. “Ugh, it’s just… I’m getting older, alright? I can change my mind…”

You could get off him. You could let it be. You totally could.

But were you going to?

No.

You straddled his abdomen and brought his hands to his chest with a big grin. Seokjin’s eyes turned into giant brown saucers. He looked ready to pass out and not from your weight because you weren’t putting much weight on him.

“W-W-What are y-you d-doing?!” he shrieked.

You rapped him in the forehead. “Teaching. Pay attention. Hands up.”

“You aren’t taking your rings off?”

He was referring to the three silver rings you wore on a daily basis – an onyx stone on your left middle finger, a goat-head shaped ring on your right thumb, and a skull with a jester hat on your right ring finger.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do I need to take them off?”

He lifted his hands and gave you an exaggerated shrug in between your thighs. Come to think of it, Seokjin had a rather broad chest so you had to spread your legs pretty wide to accommodate and hover over him.

Precarious.

“Ah, perfect.”

Your best friend yelped as you wrapped the rope around his wrists, leaving the end sticking out between them, first focusing on loosely binding. He tried to break away, but you harshly squeezed his sides with your thighs, narrowing your eyes.

“Stop squirming.”

He froze at your cold tone, shifting his eyes awkwardly.

“Watch. Now.”

His eyes immediately snapped to your hands.

“Wrists together.” You nudged them so the inner parts of the wrists were touching. “A little space in the center,” you added, looping out the end of the rope. “I’m just teaching you how I learned it, there are a few ways, but the details are important so you don’t prevent loss of circulation,” you added seriously, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “So, wind it around a couple times, but don’t overlap. Four or five?”

“But I can still get out.”

You glared at him. Seokjin shut up and jammed his plush pink lips together, shaking his head rapidly as if to say, who me? I wasn’t talking!

“Turn it ninety degrees like this,” you demonstrated. “And start going perpendicular to and in between the wrists to create the binding. Line up each coil side by side. Mind the starting end here. Then…” You reached for the scissors and snipped the excess away, dropping the rope and scissors beside you on the bed. “You tie it off on the outside. I use a square knot, so this end over this end, and then retie it the opposite way. Try to break free.”

Seokjin frowned at the red rope around his wrists, twisting it this way and that, squirming underneath your legs. You put your hands on your waist triumphantly, nodding to yourself in pride. You did a good job! It looked neat and it was inescapable without tightening on any blood vessels to cause any dangerous loss of circulation.

Hang on.

Seokjin froze.

You froze.

You both looked down.

You smacked him in the cheek.

“Ow!”

“What are you looking there for?!”

“Why did you hit me? Why do you always resort to violence?!” Seokjin accused, jabbing you underneath your breasts with his bound hands. “What is going on down there?”

“Nothing! Stop moving!”

“No!”

“You–”

You closed your thighs around Seokjin’s waist and sat down on him, causing him to gasp, wind knocked out of him as his diaphragm was pushed up into his lungs, struggling with the rope between his wrists and resorting to slamming them down on the bed above his head. You growled as you towered over him. He started yelling, as he always did.

“Yah!”

You slapped your free hand over his mouth.

“Silence.”

He glared at you behind your palm, breathing hard. You sat on top of him, breathing just as hard. He was bigger, strong, yes, but not in the position of power and – being honest, after all – your best friend was never really out to fight you and win. He was more of a ‘I’m-going-to-be-stupidly-annoying-until-you-do-what-I-want’ type, which made him rather childish in some ways. You were more of the ‘I’m-gonna-beat-your-ass’ type.

In conclusion, it was a healthy friendship.

Seokjin started licking your palm and making crazy eyes at you.

Your eye twitched.

“Stop it.”

Unsurprisingly, he did not, in fact, stop it.

“I said, stop it.”

And you slid down, past the wet spot now on his t-shirt, planting your soaked panties on top of his crotch, grinding down, and, yup, Seokjin bucked and yelped, immediately stopping and seizing up as if he could hide the massive erection that you had been willing to ignore but he was being a little – nah, actually, an extra-large, supersized – shit and it was getting on your last nerve, so what better way to resolve a wordless argument (on his part, heh) then humping his hard-on?

You removed your hand and Seokjin had a brief moment to gasp your name before you slid the pads of your fingers onto his tongue, rubbing it roughly and making his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“I told you to stop, but you aren’t listening,” you snarled.

Seokjin whimpered, brown orbs glassy, pupils blown out.

You stilled.

Hold on a second.

You had a brief epiphany where you realized you were grinding on your best friend’s dick with him tied up and you were wetter than the Yellow Sea. This wasn’t some guy you picked up at the night market that won you that sleeping Pikachu at the claw machines, only to chat him up and end up with bed with a guy who was – ack, never mind his age – anyway, this was your best friend.

Kim Seokjin.

Oh shit, I’ve gone too far.

You let go, backing up. “S… Sorry, I–”

But then Seokjin’s plush lips closed around your fingers, sucking hard and you choked slightly, feeling his hips roll and the tip of his clothed erection hit your covered clit. He was glaring at you. You gasped as his teeth gently but firmly caught your two fingers. It did hurt, but only a little. Mostly it sent a rush of rather uncomfortable and mind-boggling arousal racing from your knuckles to your core, drenching your panties further.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled around your fingers.

Don’t stop?

DON’T STOP?

His teeth let go, panting, staring into your eyes.

“Don’t make this weird,” Seokjin muttered, shifting his gaze. “Don’t make this weird, okay?”

His brown eyes flickered back to you. His bound hands were still over his head, black hair flaring out of his pillows, white t-shirt messed up, still trapped between your thighs. You paused, fingers slipping out of his lips, the pads trailing on his lower lip, turning it glossy with his saliva.

Your heart was racing fast.

He furrowed his dark brows and, for the first time, his serious expression made you think that perhaps, maybe, there was a side of him down there, the other side to the coin.

“I just…” Seokjin exhaled slowly, not looking away from you. “I trust you to do this. You’re capable and knowledgeable. I know you are. Word gets around with your, er, habits with younger guys…”

You felt your cheeks heat and you scratched your head awkwardly.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you wanna… er… get off. With me. Because I’m so handsome and all.”

You were thiiiiiiis close to leaving out of sheer embarrassment that instantly dissipated at Seokjin’s sudden unexpected self-compliment. Instead, your eye twitched and you squinted in annoyance.

Seokjin coughed, ears singeing bright red. “Unless you can’t, of course. Because it’s easy to fall in love with me, and that would be very bad considering I don’t want to marry you–”

“I don’t want to marry you either,” you snapped. “You’re ugly.”

Seokjin gasped dramatically, highly offended. “How dare you–!”

He abruptly sat up and you twisted back, only for his arms to swing over your head and sandwich you between his tied wrists and his chest, ramming you back onto his lap and his hard dick. You hissed and bit down your moan, not willing to admit it was mildly turning you on, because of course neither you or Seokjin hated each other – only in that classic way best friends hate and love each other at the same time – and, yeah, sure, you could admit Seokjin was handsome and cute and fun to be around, but he wasn’t the one, not that you knew what the one was supposed to feel like or knew if you would ever feel such an intense, romantic love, but you had this strange idea that the one for you would be someone who could understand you on a different level, and you didn’t have that with Seokjin even if you did talk all the time. You were quite sure the feeling was mutual and now, looking into his brown eyes with a scowl, you saw that the feeling was indeed mutual.

Also, Seokjin was an immature shithead.

A loveable, worldwide handsome, immature shithead. Redeemable.

Still.

You were horny.

And Seokjin was horny.

You weren’t going to date Seokjin ever, but your best friend was hot as hell and you could definitely bang him without any regrets.

“Let’s fuck,” he breathed into your face.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Don’t make it weird, yeah, okaaay dude–

Your thoughts were suddenly cut off when Seokjin kissed you.

His forearms closed in behind your back and he pressed his bound wrists into your shoulder blades, pushing you into his solid chest and his embrace, taking your breath away. He always had good hugs, even if they were just to comfort you when your favorite flavor of ice lollys stopped being stocked at your local grocery store – still tragic to this day – and even when he was clinging onto you like a howling monkey because a cockroach was in the bathroom and he was screaming at you to kill it and nearly blowing out your eardrums, even then…

Now.

You closed your legs in around his hips and rolled your crotch into him, suddenly kissing him back.

He gasped into your mouth, your eyes half-opening, him gazing back at you, long lashes and dark eyebrows and glowing tan skin, holy shit, your best friend was handsome as fuck, why did other men even try when Kim Seokjin existed?

“Are you falling in love with me because I’m so handsome?” Seokjin teased, nipping at your lower lip.

Your eye twitched. Oh, yes, that’s right, because you’re annoying.

You shoved him and he yelped, clutching your back as you both fell onto the bed with a flump! You slid out from under his arms, skin prickling at Seokjin’s involuntary whine at your departure. Don’t make this weird, yeah, okay, don’t turn me on this much, dumbass, you are reminding me of… You pushed the thought away.

You didn’t want to think about other people when the person you were touching was right in front of you.

“What are you – yah!”

You gripped the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked down, exposing his underwear – bright blue, nice, nice – and his clothed erection, leaning in, hot breath ghosting over it, Seokjin jerking his arms about because he seemed undecided on either if he wanted to see or not see, but you let him deal with that in his own time, lowering your mouth, tongue extended, fingers splayed over his hips, silver rings glinting in his bedroom lights.

“You look like a demon,” you heard from above you.

You planted your tongue on the spot where the head of his cock would be and soaked it with saliva.

“F-Fuck!”

That shut him up real quick.

Your eyes drifted up, lapping slowly, barely stimulating the sensitive head through his underwear, closing your lips around it so the fabric clung wetly to the taut skin underneath. His cock swelled and twitched under your mouth; the action was mirrored by Seokjin’s jaw. He was clenching it along with his hands balled into fists, gasping for breath.

“O-Oh, f-fuck…!”

You were beginning to get the hint with each passing second of working your tongue around his rapidly hardening cock. Seokjin had put himself in the sub category when you asked back then because he liked to things being done for him. It was less about the mental aspect and more of the physical acts of service in his case. However, he wasn’t very good at articulating what he wanted and thus the natural pattern of someone just doing it led to, ah, exhibit A.

You currently parting your lips and letting your tongue snake out, coating the length with saliva.

But.

You could see it in his eyes, that burning intensity.

Maybe part of it was because it was you. He probably didn’t have those butterfly jitters of trying to woo a stranger or the nervousness of looking bad in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. There was already a level of comfort – and the ability to readily shit-talk each other at any moment – and so Seokjin was free to relax, even if it was a bizarre situation of sexual discovery.

“Take it off,” he growled.

Your fingers creeped up his sides, hooking over his boxer briefs. Slow, deliberate, kissing up his length, on the tightrope, dominant in your control, submissive in the action, raising your head so Seokjin could lift his hips, feathering kisses on the exposed skin and making him hiss and shudder, eyelids fluttering, slipping into subservience a little.

At the end of the day, who killed the unwanted bugs in your shared apartment?

Yeah, you.

“Oh, f… fucking shit…”

You tilted your head and ran your tongue up and down the length, licking up the sides and circling around the thick head, bordering on frustratingly soft, switching to wet, sloppy kisses when his hands raised, making him pause, gazing down at you curiously and attentively, entranced by the action. You ducked down, tongue slurping around his balls, lifting his cock, kissing, sucking, eyes closing, tip of your wet muscle drawing zig-zag patterns that soft skin.

Seokjin moaned your name.

A shiver of electricity went up your spine.

Alright, fine, you were getting turned on.

You wrapped your lips around his balls and enveloped them both with your mouth.

“Whoa!”

You opened your eyes to see Seokjin staring wide-eyed at you, hands straight up to stare at you between his upper arms. You almost laughed at the hilarious triangular-looking pose, but your mouth was currently full, so you restrained yourself.

“That’s possible?! You can put both nuts in your mouth at the same time?!”

Uh.

Where you supposed to respond with your cheeks stuffed with his nutties?

You hummed casually in response.

“A-Ah…!”

Seokjin gasped at the vibrations and the movement of your tongue slapping all over them, short, rapid licks all over his skin, watching him with a cocked eyebrow, but he didn’t even notice, hands dropping and moaning to the ceiling, his eyes closing and savoring the hot wet warmth and the power of your mouth, shivering as your hand slowly stroked his length in time with your tongue.

You let him bask in it before detaching and swallowing his cock.

“Gah!”

Seokjiinie, you thought wryly, we gotta work on your repertoire of sex sounds.

You spied him looking down at you, so you paused around the swollen head and slid your tongue out, circling and wrapping around his length while sucking on the tip and rubbing the back of your tongue along the underside.

Seokjin made a bunch of weird croaking noises that were, strangely, rather attractive. Okay, you could admit it. You were kind of a sucker for your best friend in the most platonic way possible… while in the middle of sucking his dick.

What?

He was handsome!

You began to bob your head up and down, tongue and lips descending, taking him deep so you kissed the base of his cock, head buried in your throat, waiting for him to glance down at you, hazy brown orbs under lush lashes, and you would peek your tongue out and lap at his balls, interrupting the tightness, causing him to swear and jerk his hips up, urging you to keep consistent speed and pace, all the while watching every single movement of your tongue. You kept this irregular pace, slow, then fast, then slow again when he looked at you, then fast when the ecstasy was too much and he closed his eyes, over and over. You could see that a battle was being waged Seokjin’s pretty head, between wanting to observe the lewdness of you licking his balls with his hard cock buried in your throat while also desperately needing to get to the fuck off.

“You… bitch… suck me off properly, fuck…”

You raised all the way so only the head was in your mouth and sucked, rubbing up and around it, swirling all over, teasing the slit and soaking the sensitive skin, rutting it against the roof of your mouth and Seokjin groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, black hair covering his eyes, fists pressed to his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, let me cum!”

His hips rammed up and you dug your nails into them, wincing as the head hit the top of your throat and slid down, cutting off your air, and then he began to thrust erratically, the position, inability to use his hands as leverage, and your resistance not letting him set up a good rhythm. You had to force him back down, popping your mouth off, snarling.

“I’m gonna gag if you do that! You want me to vomit on your dick or what?”

But all of a sudden Seokjin sat up again, grabbing your pajama shirt and yanking you to him, saliva dripping down your chin and then it was on his chin, a messy, savage kiss, ravenous need in his actions, pulling you to him, close, closer, you twisting and then gasping as he pushed one of your thighs down, planting your soaked panties on the exposed part of his thigh.

“Ah, Seok–”

He attacked your lips again with a light growl, sparks shooting across your skin, his thigh rising and bouncing you both on the bed, his legs still tangled in his pants and underwear but the effect was undeniable.

Seokjin was making you ride his thigh.

Whoa.

He bit your lower lip and sucked hard, your eyes fluttering closed, hips rocking, heat turning hotter, wet turning wetter, your sticky, sweet juices clinging to his upper thigh, your own pressed against his saliva-covered cock, wrapping your arms around him, close, closer, you thrusting your tongue in his mouth and him moaning before he did the same to you, starting a tug of war, rubbing harder against his skin, his muscle tensing against your covered clit, friction and wetness everywhere, too many clothes and no eye contact, one of your hands slipping into his black locks and tilting his head, deepening the kiss and inhaling his exhale, shuddering at the erotic nature of the moment.

He mumbled your name against your lips, still clutching your pajamas, stars bunched in his hands, fingertips pressed into the curve of your breasts.

“Can I try the rope tying now?” Seokjin whispered, voice gravelly and low.

“Excuse me?”

There was a ripped-open condom wrapper sitting on the bed.

“What?”

Your pajama shirt, bra, and panties were on the floor, along with Seokjin’s shirt, sweatpants, and underwear.

“Why are you – gah!”

You sucked in a breath as you sank down on his cock. Fuck, it was tight, tight as you lowered yourself onto his hips, Seokjin gasping and clutching the long length of red cotton rope that you had carefully untied from his wrists. You had even taken the extra step to massage them afterward, not that he needed it because of your careful work – good job, past you – but he appreciated it all the same, because deep down Kim Seokjin was a prince.

“Oh my God, you’re so tight, shit, shit, shit…”

You neglected to tell your best friend that you were both low-key proud of and turned on by your own ability to take dick without much foreplay. That little edge of tightness added just the right amount of spice of pain that amplified to the pleasure.

Okay.

And yes, you felt a special kind of glee as you witnessed Seokjin’s stunned shock and near passed-out expression from being inside you.

You held out your wrists and grinned. “Go ahead. Tie me up.”

Seokjin gawked at you like you had three heads.

You squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, tilting your head with a devilish grin.

“God, you’re so hot, but you look crazy,” he wheezed.

Your grin dropped and your eye twitched. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or…?”

Seokjin shrugged, and moved your hands so they were in the better position for him. Much to your annoyance, he didn’t elaborate.

“Um, let’s see, you left a bit out to use as a tie and…”

You began to rock your hips.

“H-Hey!”

The side of your lips curved upward. “What? We’re multitasking.”

“We–?” Seokjin choked, gritting his teeth as you pulsed around his hard length, rolling your hips gently, adjusting until you found a comfortable spot so the head hit you in just the right spot, ah, yes, right there, spreading your fingers out over his chest, leaning your forehead against his, not quite going full force but a slow, deliberate rhythm that wasn’t going to make either of you cum, but, damn, did it feel good.

Seokjin shuddered, gasping your name.

“Tie me up, Seokjin,” you murmured back, caressing his skin.

His eyes darted up, saturated with lust, searching your eyes, and you gazed back.

You could be a real jerk right now.

His hot exhale washed over your lips, a shudder of nervousness.

But this was your best friend, and he was trusting you.

You tilted your head and kissed him softly, flush against his plush lips.

“Come on,” you nudged his nose lightly. “Do it.”

You viewed him from under your lashes. He shivered. Almost.

He needed only one more little push.

“Want you, Seokjinnie,” you breathed against his skin, hints of need and desperation in your voice.

A small smile danced on his lips, staring into your eyes.

You might have fallen for him a little bit in that moment.

“Okay.”

He kissed the side of your mouth, a teasing little peck, and you smirked, turning your head so you wouldn’t break the image you had created for him, but he was already looking down, busily occupied with your wrists, so you drew back, focusing instead on riding him, closing your eyes. You built a leisurely, pleasurable pace, leaning forward a bit to rub your clit against the base of his cock, sighing contentedly at the way he filled you, a wonderful, thick, satisfying girth that you could get used to, other than the fact that most of the time Seokjin drove you up the wall, but, hey, maybe if both of you reached a certain age and you were still single, maybe you could marry your best friend solely for having accessible dick…

“Ah! Perfect.”

You cracked open one eye.

And tried not to burst out laughing.

“Erm… well…” you coughed, tugging at the rope a little. It looked messy and rather hideous, parts overlapping and twisting awkwardly, but he had the… basic idea? It wasn’t like you were going to do anything dumb anyway, so it was pretty good for a first time.

Seokjin frowned. “I don’t know how you did it so neatly…”

“You line up the coils next to each other – ah!”

He seemed to think that was good enough and grabbed handfuls of your ass, causing you to tip forward and brace your hands against his chest, gasping as his hips thrust up into you, abrupt pleasure blooming up your core, sudden squelch of wetness between your joined hips.

“Come on,” he grunted, clenching his jaw, tone getting deeper and more dangerous with each word. “I have to get off, and now.”

He smacked his hands down on your ass and you almost whimpered.

Almost.

Seokjin drew back a little, giving you a strange look.

“W… What?” you managed to get out.

He tilted his head. “Do you like that?”

You almost said, no, of course not, but you stopped yourself, looking down at the red rope tied around your wrists, heat flaring in your cheeks, ass stinging slightly from his slap.

His cock twitched inside you.

Your eyes flickered up to him. A sly smirk danced on your lips.

“Yeah. I like the things you do to me.”

You saw Seokjin pause, brown eyes widening a little, black hair over his forehead.

You pushed him down on the bed. He gasped, but he was used to it now, gripping your ass and tipping his head back as you began to really ride him, waving your hips to ram his cock into your pussy, not even noticing the moan seeping from your lips, fuck, it was good, fulfilling and deep, your bound hands on his chest, fingers spread out and nails digging into his skin a little, but Seokjin seemed to be into it, his own nails sinking into your ass, pushing you down with every descent, hitting you harder, rougher, intensifying the pleasure, building onto it. Hot breath, warm skin, joined hips, loud slaps, rocking bedframe, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes, not quite seeing each other but drowning in the gratification, the roughness, gasping sharply as his open palm smacked down on your ass again, making it bounce and jiggle in his hands, your core and thighs squeezing tighter, witnessing his tight hiss of desire, mesmerized by your sound so he did it again, spanking the other cheek, and you did it again, whimper creeping out, arousal consuming his handsome features, intoxicated by your reaction to his action so he did it again and again, hard, stinging slaps as you rode his stiff, quivering cock harder and faster, fuck, Seokjin must be incredibly turned on because he was so fucking hard, just so incredibly sexy how hard he was right now, even the pain was nothing but an injection of added carnal pleasure, throwing your head back and sinking your nails into his skin, fucking him recklessly, forgetting about hiding your moans, who the fuck cared, not you and not him because Seokjin too was crying out, the sinful sound of sex echoing off his bedroom walls, except instead of you in your bedroom putting headphones on to drown him out, you were in his bedroom, doing it, fucking the daylights out of him.

Alright.

You could see why girls wanted to date your best friend now.

Seokjin was a loud dork, but he had a great dick.

“F-Fuck, Seokjin, fuck!”

He had a similar response, although it was more a choked garble of your name mixed with, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You must really be drunk on his dick because even that turned you on and tipped you over the edge.

Your thighs tensed and you moaned deeply, tucking your chin down and spreading your palms onto his pecs, wrists straining against the cotton rope, a rapid torrent of adrenaline soaring through you and then you smacked your ass down onto Seokjin’s crotch, whining as you came in vicious pulses of pleasure, clenching around his jerking length and you realized Seokjin was clutching your ass, pinning it down so you couldn’t move, shooting his release into the condom, so much that you felt his cock shudder and throb inside you, head buried in your deepest, most pleasurable spot, you feeling all of him and him feeling all of you.

Holy shit.

You almost saw stars.

“Hah… wow… I guess I can’t blame younger dudes for wanting this pussy…”

Your eyes weren’t open but your eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Shut up, Seokjin.”

“Come on, man! Look what you did!” Seokjin barked accusingly, pointing to his chest with red indents of your rings.

“Excuse me? I’m the one who has scratches and a bruised ass!”

“You’ve marred my beautiful skin! I should fine you!”

“Where’s that fuckin’ whip – get your naked ass back here, Kim Seokjin!”

Hm, well, maybe you would find your true love some other time. Maybe try gambling?

masterpost

#seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #seokjin smut #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x you

306 notes · View notes

khoicesbyk · 2 years ago

Text

The Royal Romance.

Love Everlasting.

A/N: I had a different name and plot for this fic over a year ago. But after being in the RP community for more than a year, I've decided to write the current Royal Life of my favorite OTP.

Rated: Mature (at times can and will be Explicit. I'll be sure to change the rating when and if that happens). | Contains sexual content and strong language. (Y'all should be used to this from me by now 😁) | Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters. | Main Characters: King Marquise Rys (LI) and Queen Shanelle Miller-Rys (MC) | All Characters and names: (except MC and original characters created by me and/or other authors [their characters have been mentioned and/or used in the story with their permission] ) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 7,250 words. (may be slightly more or may be slightly less. Look, I stop counting after editing and re-editing and driving myself insane. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

If you’d like to be added to my tag list. Just reblog or dm me and I will gladly add you! 😁😘

This series is rated Mature and/or Explicit. It is NOT reading material that is safe for those under 18. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!

Missing a chapter or want to read a chapter again? I got you covered! Click ——> Here!

Every so often the chapters will be or include flashbacks. This is just the first flashback.

Tag List: @twinkleallnight @txemrn @choicesficwriterscreations

How It's Going vs How It Started.

Once again it was The Queen vs The Princess. And Marquise had to decide which side he was on. The Royal Family was hosting a dinner and Khari and Shanelle were fighting over The Princess saying she wasn't going.

“No!”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no!”

Shanelle looked around like she was hearing things.

“Did you just tell me no?”

“You have ears right?”

“Little girl…I think you're forgetting who I am and who you are.”

“I know who I am. I'm you. Only better.”

“Of all the times for you to be a 4-year-old brat…”

“From what Grammy and Pop Pop say you were an even bigger brat than I am.”

Marquise choked on his water when Khari stomped her right foot challenging her mother. A trait she most definitely got from her.

“Marquise if you don't get your daughter!”

The King let out a deep sigh.

“Princess. Come here.”

Khari looked at her father before walking over to him and climbing into his lap.

“Now I understand that you don't want to go to the ball, but you know you have to.”

“But!”

He put a gentle finger to her lips.

“You know you can't be by yourself.”

“But King ElI smells funny. And Princess Octavia is always mean to me.” she pouted.

He hated to see his daughter pout.

“Believe me, your mother and I don't like being around them either. Especially Queen Vanda.”

“I forgot about her," Khari muttered.

“I haven't.” Shanelle quipped.

“Do you remember what happened the last time they were here?”

“Queen Vanda ruined one of mommy’s favorite dresses when she spilled her drink on it?”

“Mmmhmm. And do you remember what your mother did?”

Khari started to giggle.

“Mommy accidentally dropped her dessert on her?”

Marquise snickered before leaning in conspiratorially.

“Between you and me, that wasn't really an accident.”

“She had it coming…” Shanelle said nonchalantly.

“Mommy!”

“What? She did! You know how much I loved that dress.”

“But why do we have to host them, Daddy?”

Marquise thought for a second.

“Well, you know the Nintendo Switch you have?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Well, the kingdom of Gemmora is a major supply hub for Nintendo. A lot of the computer chips that they produce go into many of the Nintendo gaming systems.”

“I didn't know that.”

“Daddy has known that for years.”

“So King Eli doesn't want one to be open here?”

“He doesn't want one to open anywhere else outside of Japan and Gemmora.”

“Well, that's not fair.”

“I know.”

“Is that why we're hosting them?”

“Yes, my angel. This dinner we're hosting is in hopes to get King Eli to open up to the idea of Nintendo opening a manufacturing plant here.”

“And if we have a plant here, that means I can get a new Switch for my birthday and Christmas right Daddy?”

Shanelle snorted.

“When did I say that?”

“You haven't…yet.”

“Anyway, now you know why it's important that we host this ball. Even though none of us want to.”

“But why do it at all?”

“Well, because sometimes as Monarchs we have to do certain things that we might not necessarily like or agree with. Hosting this dinner might not benefit us per se. But it will benefit our people.”

“Does that include my friends?”

“Yes. Including your friends.”

Marquise thought for a second.

“Tell you what, I'll make you a deal. If you go get dressed, and we all survive this dinner, we'll have a bedtime snack of your choice. How about that?”

Khari put on a thoughtful look that melted the King’s heart.

“Okay, Daddy. I'll go get ready.”

“That's my girl. But first, you owe your mother an apology for your behavior.”

Khari nodded before looking at her mother.

“I'm sorry Mommy. Do you forgive me?”

“Apology accepted. Now go get dressed.”

Khari kissed her father on the cheek before she got down to hug her mother then ran off to go get ready.

“I don’t know how you do it but you do it.”

Marquise snickered.

“Tactical negotiations my Queen. They're not just for dealing with hostile nations and kingdoms you know.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes with a smirk.

“As for you my gorgeous wife” he asks as he wraps his arms around her, “how are you feeling?”

“So far I'm alright. No early pregnancy symptoms yet.”

“Good. Very good.” he said before he kissed her. “So let us go get dressed as well. It's bad decorum for the hosts to be late.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

That's how it’s going. Let's look at how it started between The King and Queen.

Their engagement caused quite the stir. The Crown Prince Of Cordonia is marrying The Princess From Brooklyn. Sounds like a fairytale right? But you know what they say? All that glitters ain’t gold. Their engagement was a cover for an arranged marriage between their fathers. It happened when Shanelle was only 6 months old and Marquise was 2 years old. Their betrothal was made in effort to unify a struggling Cordonia as one. And as much as Shanelle didn’t want it to happen, she couldn’t stop it. And neither could he.

His dream was to be Cordonia’s Prime Minister. But when he found out about Shanelle and their betrothal he had to shift his thinking. Being Prime Minister was out. If he was to marry her, he had to be King. His new dream almost didn't happen thanks to her not wanting to have anything to do with him. He met her for the first time when he made an unexpected trip to visit her at home in New York. He was standing in her living room.

“Hello, Princess. How are you?”

“So you’re the one I'm stuck with?”

When he turned around and they made eye contact the sparks flew between them.

“If by that you mean your future husband, then yes I'm the one you’re stuck with.”

Shanelle stood there in the doorway annoyed by him.

“Great. I got matched with a fucking comedian.”

He shrugged.

“Call me ComicView.”

“Yeah, no.”

Something about her fire intrigued him.

“Well, aren't you fiery?”

“Don't get too close, you might get burned.”

“Oh, I assure you I can handle the heat.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes.

“Why are you here?”

He walked closer to her and she had to control her racing heart rate.

“I've heard so much about the Princess of Brooklyn that I had to see for myself. No one told me how beautiful you would be in person.”

When he got closer, she couldn't resist the temptation to look him up and down. Especially after he kissed the back of her left hand.

“Wrong hand. For a royal, you would think you'd know which hand to kiss. Left hand means a woman is married. And the right hand means she's available. You kissed my left hand, which is the wrong one.”

“No, I definitely had the right one.”

“I'm single.” she hissed.

He smirked as he pinned her between his body and the door frame. The look in his eyes made her body hot.

“Not anymore.” he said as he tilted her chin up so she looked up at him, “As of today, you belong to me.”

“I am not your property!”

“You're right. You’re not my property. You’re much better than that.” he said before leaning in to whisper in her ear, “Shanelle…you are My Queen.”

The next night Shanelle couldn't wait to get together with her best friends The Fab Babes for a Friday girl’s night and Chinese at her place.

“Alright! We have food from Szechuan Palace, we have an endless supply of wine, we have my dad's new flat screen, and we have movies!” she said as she laid out the food.

“We should start with–” Nina said before Shanelle cut her off.

“WE ARE NOT WATCHING JURASSIC PARK!”

“You’re such a hater!”

“Bitch I will throw off the top of the Empire State Building! Don't fuck with me!”

“Okay break it up you two. Can we get back to eating now?” Chutney asked.

“Yeah yeah. Besides, I got news for y'all.”

Shanelle gave the girls a rundown of meeting the Prince the day before.

“HE DID WHAT?!” Chutney shouted.

“Yup. Walked right into my momma’s house and demanded to see me.” Shanelle replied.

“Bitch you lying!” Robin told her.

“Nope. He stood in the middle of her living room floor and said he was not leaving.”

“Holy shit!” Dee quipped.

“Where were you?” Robin asked.

“Knowing her she was probably sleeping,” Nina answered.

Shanelle sucked her teeth at Nina before throwing a fortune cookie at her.

“You know she's right, Nelle.” Bronwyn said.

“Shouldn't you be operating on a puppy or something?”

“Wait! Is he here?” Aly asked.

The girls looked towards the hallway and Shanelle rolled her eyes.

“No, he's not here. He's at the Cordonian Embassy, Something about not telling his dad he was coming to town.”

“So what does he look like Nelle?” Bron asks.

Shanelle groaned.

“Here we go…”

“He's short, isn't he?” Chut asks.

“Is he ugly?” Rob asks.

“Maybe he has a voice that sounds like Michael Jackson’s!” Aly says.

“Nina, what do you think?” Dee asks.

“She laid eyes on him and fell in love. What else?” Nina deadpanned.

“I did not!”

“Okay fine. You didn't fall in love with him the minute you saw him. But you do want him to fuck your brains out. Is that better?”

“Ooh!” the girls say in unison before looking at Shanelle who stabs at her food.

“Ugh! I need a new set of friends. Y’all suck.”

“Love you!” the girls say.

“So is Nina right?” Dee asks.

“…not exactly," Shanelle mutters into her food.

“Not exactly? What's that supposed to mean?” Chut asks.

“It means she's been dickamitized.” Bron says.

Shanelle glared daggers at her.

“Scuse me?! You have no room to talk about ANYBODY being dickamitized. Because if Lo walked through that door right fucking now, there’d be a puddle at your damn feet.” Shanelle snapped back at her.

“I–“

“Shut it Lenny Williams!”

“Be nice Nelle. It’s not every day that you crush on your patient.” Rob teased.

Bron groans.

“Rob…not you too.”

“Never mind the fact that said patient is your friend’s baby brother…” Shanelle adds.

“Okay damn I get it!”

“So what is he like?” Aly asks.

“Bossy as hell.” Shanelle replied.

“What?!” the girls said in feigned shock.

“Imagine that. The Princess met someone bossier than her.” Nina teased.

The girls cackled collectively.

“Shut up before I have you hoes thrown outta here.” Shanelle hissed.

“You love us too much to do that.” Nina says.

“I have my limits. Thank you very much.”

“Except for when it comes to a certain Crown Prince of Cordonia.” Dee quipped.

“I will call Zig!”

“That's not a threat. Also, please call him. I wouldn't mind seeing him.” Rob adds.

“Justice for Dino! He deserves better!”

A fit of cackling broke out amongst the girls.

“You never did answer the question Nelle.” Chut says.

“What question?”

“What does he look like?” The girls ask in unison.

“Stop yelling at me!” Shanelle replies.

“Don’t want us to yell at you, answer the question.” Nina says.

“Ugh! Fine!”

Shanelle pulls out her phone and pulls up a picture of the Prince. The girls look impressed.

“Not bad Princess.”

“Are those real diamonds he’s wearing?”

“I wonder if he owns a dungeon.”

“He looks official.”

“So serious.”

“He doesn’t look so bad.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes.

“Y’all done?”

The girls cut their eyes at Shanelle.

“Well, now y’all heifers know what he looks like.”

“So what's the problem, Nelle?” Dee asks.

“The problem is I have to marry a man I barely even know,” Shanelle replies.

“You don't have to marry him, Shanelle,” Nina says to her best friend.

“My dear sweet Keane Klown, have you not met my father?” Shanelle asks.

“Why are you still calling me that after all these years?”

“Because your last name is Keane and you, your two goofy ass brothers and your cousin are all a bunch of clowns. That's why.”

Nina rolled her eyes.

“He wouldn't actually make you go through with it, would he?” Aly asks.

“According to the treaty he signed, he has to and if he doesn't, his brother and the Prince’s father can force me to. So once again, I don't have a choice.”

Hearing the dejection in her voice, Bron and Rob wrap Shanelle in a hug.

“Maybe it won't be so bad?” Chut asks.

“I can only pray it won't be," Shanelle replies.

“You get the chance to be an actual future Queen. And we get the chance to say that we're best friends with one.” Dee says.

“No no. You girls will just be regular friends with a future Queen. While I am the best friend of a future Queen.” Nina corrects her.

Shanelle cackled while the rest of the girls groaned.

“Put that ego away Nina, you gonna hurt someone!” Chut tells her cousin.

“Oh, you’re so jealous!”

“I still don't know how I wound up knowing and getting stuck with you two clowns but here we are.” Shanelle piped up.

The girls dissolved into laughter. This is what Shanelle needed.

“I don’t know where I'd be without you girls.”

“We love you!” the girls say in unison.

“Oh shut the fuck up! Y'all don't love me! You hoes just love that I feed you.”

“There's a difference?” Dee asks.

This caused the girls to laugh. The girls spend the rest of the night giggling, gossiping, and enjoying each other's company.

The next night Shanelle was sitting on her bed in her robe finishing up the newest Press Release for her father's office when there was a knock at her door.

“It's open," she called out without looking up from her laptop.

The Prince walks in.

“My my. Don't you look official? And drop-dead gorgeous. Is that robe new?”

Shanelle rolled her eyes before glancing up.

“How the fuck did you get in here?”

The Prince sat down next to her on her bed. Letting his eyes slowly trace her body.

“Well, that's rude. Is that any way to speak to your husband?” he asks.

Shanelle closed her laptop and then looked down at her left hand.

“Gee…that's funny, Your Highness. I don't see a ring on my finger.”

He tilted her chin up.

“Always look at me when you speak to me, Shanelle.”

She pulled away from him.

“I'm not one of your subjects. I don't have to do a goddamn thing you say.”

He smirked at her before tucking a few stray hairs behind her left ear.

“Of course not beautiful. You’re so much more than that. You will always be more than that.”

“What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were staying at the Embassy.”

“I was. Hell, I was about to have you sent for.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Just what I said, I was going to have you sent for. Instead, your father insisted that I stay here with you while your mother is in Martha’s Vineyard for a teacher's retreat and conference and he takes care of official business in Cordonia. He assured me that you were quite the hostess Princess," he replied nonchalantly.

“Yup. I am not marrying you. I don’t care what that treaty says.” she hissed.

“There it is. There's that fire. That sweet venom from a beautiful and vicious viper. It's all I've thought about since I met you the other day.”

“Careful, Your Highness. I bite.”

“Bite me all you like, Princess.”

“Ugh! You're infuriating!”

He covered her left hand with his. His touch was warm and electric.

“Infuriating or enticing?” he asks her.

“You have nothing that I want.”

He smirked before leaning in to whisper.

“The goosebumps on your skin say otherwise.”

She just glared at him.

“Your silence is all I need to know.”

“Your Highness…get out of my room.” she hissed at him.

“Marquise.”

“What?”

“My name is Marquise, love.”

“Why do I care what your name is?”

“Because it's about time you learned it.”

“Again, why do I care?”

He stood up then pulled her to her feet.

“Because you'll be screaming it. That's why.”

She scoffed.

“So that's the game we're playing?”

He cocked his head to the side.

“It's okay to say that you like it, Princess.”

“You don't know shit about me.”

“That's where you’re wrong. I know more about you than you think.”

“Like what?”

“I know about the butterfly and stars tattoo on the back of your left shoulder, the Scorpion tattoo on the back of your right shoulder, and the dragon tramp stamp that you got just to piss your father off. I know your favorite color is purple. I know you’re terrified of heights, flying, snakes, and spiders. I know you have a temper. I know you took pole dancing lessons and your legs are…quite flexible. I know you've made a name for yourself on the kink scene when you went to school in Boston and when you worked in D.C. As a matter of fact you are one of the D.C. Headhunter's finest trainees. Rowan says hi by the way. I know you’re ticklish and hate to be tickled. I know you are a classically trained ballet dancer and choral singer. I know you believe strongly in education and healthcare. Did I miss anything?”

He brought the wrist of her left hand to his lips and grazed it softly with his teeth before kissing it.

“I would be a terrible husband if I didn't know anything about you.”

She couldn't believe it, she was stuck.

“Cat got your tongue love?”

That snapped her out of whatever trance she was in.

“That's called stalking, Your Highness.”

She watched his eyelid twitch.

“Something wrong…Marquise?”

“Nope.”

She arched an eyebrow at him.

“Liar. I saw your eyelid twitch.”

He shrugged.

“Fine. I'm not one who likes to repeat himself.”

“Is that supposed to scare me, Your Highness?”

“Never love. Contrary to what you think about me, I'm not here to scare you. I'm here to elevate you.”

“Elevate me to what?”

Rather than answer her, he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a Cartier ring box.

“My Wife. What else?”

Shanelle just stared at the ring box in his hand.

“Princess?”

Shanelle blinked herself back to reality.

“I'm sorry. But are you…?”

She watched him get down on one knee.

“Yes, I am. So Shanelle Miller…will you marry me?”

Suddenly, the room felt small and it was hard for Shanelle to breathe.

“You're not serious.”

“Dead serious. Being King is my goal and you are the key to attaining that goal.”

“Why would I help you?”

He stood up and brought her face close to his.

“Because you believe in helping others. You are your mother's child. Service is what drives you. I can give you that, plus whatever else you want.”

“Whatever I want?”

“I don't have a stutter, Princess. Nor do I stammer.”

“Fine then. Convince me.”

“Convince you?”

“Yes. If you want me to go along with all of this, then you have to convince me. Because so far I'm not impressed nor am I convinced you'd be the King that Cordonia needs.”

A slow smile spread across his face.

“You know there is something else I just remembered about you.”

“What is that?” Shanelle asks.

“I know that you only like the movie Dirty Dancing for one scene. And it has nothing to do with putting Baby in a corner or having the time of your life.”

“So you have been stalking me?”

He shrugged.

“You say stalking, I say doing my due diligence and research.”

“Yeah whatever. There’s a reason why you mentioned it.”

“You’re correct. I did mention it for a reason.”

“Okay fine I’ll bite. Why did you mention it?”

“You’re smart. That’s good. I want you to dance with me.”

“Dance with you?”

“That’s what I said.”

“No. I don’t want to do that.”

The Prince arched an eyebrow at her.

“Did you just tell me no?”

“I sure did. And since you’re a Prince, you have to convince me to dance with you.”

“Very well.”

He instantly changed his posture and then held his hand out.

“May I have this dance Princess?”

“Seriously?”

“Answer the question Shanelle.”

She looked at him before putting her laptop on her nightstand and slipping her hand in his.

“See? Now that wasn't so hard was it, love?”

“Go fuck yourself.” she hissed.

“Don't worry, you'll be doing that soon enough.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes.

“Whatever. What are we dancing to?”

“Cry To Me by Solomon Burke.”

“You want to dance to that?”

“Yes. After all, it's from your favorite scene in Dirty Dancing. Now, do you know the Cordonian Waltz?”

“You want to do the Cordonian Waltz to Cry To Me?”

“Humor me.”

Shanelle shook her head.

“Are you ready?”

“Can we just get this over with?”

“Aren't you charming?”

They soon began a simple box that turned into an awkward Cordonian Waltz around her room.

“You’re very stiff, Princess.”

“Gee I wonder why.”

He let out an aggravated sigh before pausing the song.

“Stopping so soon, Your Highness?”

“Yes. I prefer my dance partners to be alive, not statues.”

“Then go dance with one of my guards.”

“My guards, Princess.” he corrected her.

“No, they're MY guards. They answer to me.”

“No, they answer to me. Yours were sent with your parents. Why do you think you’ve been able to get any work done without someone knocking on your door to pester you?”

She stared at him like he had lost his mind.

“You sent my guards away?”

“No, I sent them on assignment with your parents while they're in Martha's Vineyard. They're good but I prefer my own personal guards to your father's.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“I believe we've been over this, love. I'm your husband.”

“And I believe that I told you we aren't getting married.”

She watched his eyelid twitch again before he regained his composure.

“You need to loosen up, Princess.”

“And you need to go back to Cordonia or whatever the hell it is that you came from.”

“The only way I go back is with you going with me.”

“Then I guess we're at a stalemate…Your Highness.”

She felt his left hand tighten slightly on the small of her back. Sending a delicious shiver running down her spine.

“Okay how about this, I lead and you follow?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“You aren't known for giving up so why should I?”

“…fine. But only one dance!”

“That's all I'm asking for, Princess.”

She let out a breath then squared her shoulders.

“Okay, Your Highness. Lead off.”

He pressed play and off they went. Waltzing around her room.

“You’re still stiff Shanelle. Relax your shoulders a bit.”

Even though she didn't want to, she relaxed her shoulders.

“Good. The more relaxed you are, the better your steps will be.”

“I know how to do the Cordonian Waltz, thank you very much.”

“I can't tell. You normally dance so gracefully. Which is why I can't understand why you’re choosing to dance like a blundering rhino.”

“I am not!”

“Prove it.”

He smirked when she sucked her teeth.

“Get ready.”

She barely looked up at him before he dipped her low.

“You missed your cue.”

“I didn't miss my cue. That wasn't my cue to begin with.”

He leaned in his warm breath ghosting over her right ear.

“I lead and you follow, remember?”

“Yeah yeah.”

“So if I say you missed your cue then you missed your cue. So let's try this again.”

“…fine.”

They reset and started dancing again. She was ready, only he didn't dip her this time. He spun her out and then back into his arms again. Her back was to his chest, her left hand was in his, his right hand rested on top of her right hip, and his chin rested on her right shoulder with his left cheek against her right cheek. Something about being this close to him felt intimate. She tried and failed not to get lost in the feeling. They stayed in that position until he spun her out and back again.

“I don't remember any of that being part of the Cordonian Waltz.”

“I lead. You follow. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

“Someone could say you have an ulterior motive for this dance.”

“So what if I do?”

Before she could answer, he dipped her again this time she remembered the cue.

“Very good. You managed not to miss your cue.”

The more they danced together, the more comfortable she started to feel around him.

“Well, this is an improvement.”

“What is?”

“When we started I was so sure that you would've punched me by now.”

“Who said that still won't happen?”

“Such a violent woman.”

“Viper, remember?”

“Touché.”

When he looked at her she had a puzzled look on her face.

“What is it?”

“Aren't you hot in that jacket?”

“Concerned for me? I'm touched.”

“I'm sorry I even bothered to ask.”

“To answer your question, no I'm not. I've gotten used to wearing it during dances like this.”

She shrugged.

“It just looks so stuffy and I feel like I'm suffocating just looking at it.”

“If it'll make you feel better I'll take it off.”

“Please do. I'm sweating just looking at it. And while you’re at it, have some A/C built into that thing.”

Marquise rolled his eyes before tossing his jacket onto her bed. She got a good look at how his shirt fit the muscles of his arms.

“Better?”

“Yes actually. You don't look like that much of a dick anymore.”

He gave her a tight smile.

“Your charm precedes you.”

“Glad you like it, Your Highness.”

“Shall we reset?”

“Sure, just one question.”

“What is it?”

“How long are we gonna keep doing this?”

“As long as it takes.”

Shanelle groaned.

“The sooner you accept that we are meant to be together, the sooner we can stop.”

Shanelle rolled her eyes before they started again. As they danced, she caught the scent of his cologne.

“That's a nice cologne you’re wearing.”

“I don’t know which is more shocking, the fact you noticed that I'm wearing cologne or the fact I just got a genuine compliment out of you.”

“Note to self: keep your mouth shut from now on.”

He chuckled low.

“Thank you, Princess. It's a custom scent from my mother's favorite perfume shop in Paris.”

“I've never been to Paris. I've always wanted to go.”

“It's beautiful. Especially at night from atop the Eiffel Tower.”

“Of course you've been there.”

“No need to be jealous, love. I'll take you one day.”

“That's a dangerous promise to make.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because I might be tempted to make you take me.”

“Whenever you're ready, Princess,” he whispered in her ear.

He had her right where he wanted her and she knew it. Their movements soon became more intense and a lot more sensual.

“I don't remember the scene in the movie being like this.”

“Like what?”

“So intimate.”

“It wasn't. The scene in the movie was actually pretty tame in my opinion. Then again, I'm not Patrick Swayze and you aren't Jennifer Grey and I still have my shirt on so, there's that.”

She snorted.

“Point taken.”

He spun her out away from him then back again close to the doorframe.

“You can admit it now.”

“What?”

“That this wasn't as bad as you thought it would be," he whispered.

She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile that bloomed on her face.

“Fine. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. But you’re still a jackass.”

“You just couldn't resist the dig could you?”

She shook her head no as she watched him softly kiss the inside of her right wrist.

“You don't give up do you, Your Highness?”

“Never. If I want it, then nothing on this earth will stop me from making it mine.”

That's when he took the chance and kissed her. It was a slow kiss that quickly heated up when he backed her up against the doorframe. With his left arm keeping her steady and pressed tightly against him, he locked her door with his right. Hearing the door lock caused her to break the kiss.

“Did you just lock my door?”

“I don't want nor do I need an audience for what I'm about to do.”

“Okay I'll bite, what are you about to do?”

“You.”

Before she could respond, he slid his right hand into her hair so he could bring her lips to his. The force of the kiss made her want more. She began to crave him in any way she could get him. When their kiss broke both were breathless.

“Don't be so shocked, Princess.”

“I'm not shocked by the kiss. I'm shocked it took you so long. I figured you would've done that 20 minutes ago.”

“A gentleman always waits on a lady.”

“You're a gentleman huh? And here I thought you were a Prince.”

He snorted.

“Smartass.”

She shrugged innocently.

“Better to be a smartass than it is to be a dumb one.”

“Oh you’re good.”

“Except for when I'm bad.”

“Well, let's see how bad you can be.”

With a low growl, he captured her bottom lip between his teeth and slid his tongue into her mouth. They stumbled from the doorway back to her bed. Desperately grabbing at each other like they couldn't get close enough. Hastily taking each other's clothes off. Not wanting anything much less the fabric to stand in the way.

“You are so damn beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad looking yourself for a pompous stuck-up brat.”

He snickered.

“You are impossible, you know that right?”

“You get what your daddy bargained for.”

“You can stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

“Downplaying yourself. You aren't a bargain. You are the rarest diamond on God's Green Earth. And you’re all mine.”

“What part of I'm not your property did you not understand?”

“You know what I meant, Princess.”

“Yeah yeah. Less talking. More of whatever we were doing before.”

He smirks before pinning her wrists above her head with his left hand.

“Do you trust me?”

“I guess so.”

“That's not an answer, Shanelle.”

“Yes, I trust you.”

“Good. Don't move until I tell you to and always keep your eyes on me. Understood?”

“Yes.”

He hooked his right hand behind her neck and brought her lips to his. He kissed her slowly, wanting to slowly savor the taste of her mouth. Teasing her tongue with his. As they kissed he slowly dragged his left hand along the left side of her body, leaving goosebumps along her skin. He went from kissing her to nicking the base of her neck with his teeth. He felt her body shift slightly under him, causing him to press her wrists into the pillows in a warning. He trailed featherlight kisses from her sternum to the spot between her breasts. He listened to her breathing quicken as he paid special attention to each of her breasts. Her chest rose and fell every time his mouth made contact with her skin.

“Please…” she breathed out.

She watched him put a finger to his lips.

“Soon.”

His method was complete madness to her, but she loved it just the same. He was slow, methodical, and attentive to the softest most sensitive spots in her midsection. She shivered as he dragged his tongue along her stomach. Her moans were soft and impatient, she wanted more but had to wait for him. She started to close her eyes and lose herself in the sensation, but he couldn't have that. Not yet.

“Eyes on me, Shanelle.”

“I can't wait much longer,” she whined.

“Very well, I guess you have been patient enough, love.”

He kissed his way down the inside of her right thigh while massaging the inside of her left thigh. The heat between her legs radiated as he got closer to her center. She loved feeling his lips on her thighs. He took his left thumb and rubbed her throbbing clit. When she shivered and her eyes closed, he spread her legs wide and went for it. She gasped when his tongue made contact with her clit.

“HOLY SHIT!” she shrieked.

She bit her bottom lip as she watched him feast on her. He was relentless as he ate her out. He nearly swallowed her clit before dipping his tongue inside her warm entrance. She didn’t want him to stop or move. He was a beast at making sure she was thoroughly satisfied. He snaked his left hand up her stomach to keep her still. Shanelle had nowhere to go. She was at his mercy. Her strangled moans, shrieks and other sounds she made only intensified his hunger for her.

He switched from tasting her entrance to nursing her clit, which made her toes curl. He alternated between swirling his tongue around her clit and nearly sucking her soul out of it. With his right hand, he slipped two fingers into her and finger fucked her. The stimulation caused her to scream while white knuckling her bed sheets.

“JUST LIKE THAT! THAT’S IT! MAKE ME CUM!” She screamed.

Her body, especially her legs began shaking as she struggled to hang on. She was close and he knew it. He plunged his tongue inside her and rubbed her clit with his thumb and sent her over the edge into sweet oblivion. Her eyes rolled back, her legs spasmed and her jaw went slack as she let out a silent scream and flooded his mouth with her juices. When he let her go, she was gasping for air and trembling.

“Well…that was delightful. Shall we go again Princess?”

“You…are…a…fucking…demon!” she sneered at him while trying to catch her breath.

“Happy to be of service.”

He kissed her again, savoring the feeling and taste of her mouth on his. She felt his hands grip her highs tightly. He kneaded circles with his thumbs on the soft skin. He slowly moved his right hand further between her legs. She shivered when his fingers ran along her wet folds.

“Tell me Princess…how bad do you want it?” He whispered in her ear.

“I crave it!”

“The things I am going to fucking do to you!” He hissed.

As he said that, he grabbed the condom from his pocket, then used his body to pin her down before he lined himself up with her entrance. He circled the tip around it before sliding inside her. She moaned softly when she felt him sink inside her. He started out slow. Giving her time to adjust to him.

“Goddamn, you are so wet!” He hissed.

He braced himself with one hand on her hip and the other on the headboard as he started to really move against her. Hearing her moan was all the motivation and permission he needed. Once Marquise found his rhythm it was on from there. It didn't take long for her bedroom to soon dissolve into their combined moans, groans, and the sounds their bodies made as they fucked.

“That’s it! Take it! Take this dick!” He growled as pounded her.

“Make me cum! Give me more! Give it to me!" She begged as he fucked her harder.

“That's it! Beg for it! I want to hear you beg me to fuck you!" he replied before tightening the grip he had on her hip.

She felt amazing around him. The way she took him deep drove him crazy. He wanted her that bad and the more he gave it to her, the more she wanted him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and dug her nails into his back.

“That's it, Princess. Show me that you want it!” he hissed in her ear.

Her moans were filled with lust and desperation. She wanted him to make her forget where she was at that moment. All she wanted was to feel him deep inside her.

“Marquise! I need it! I need you! Don't hold back! Give it to me! Give me all of you!” She begged.

“Say it! Say you want it! Tell me that you want me to fuck you!” he growled.

“I want it! I want you! Please don't stop! Fuck me!”

Hearing her unravel was pushing him closer towards the edge. He gathered her up in his arms as he rolled into his back. He wanted her on top. He wanted to see her face as she fell apart. He made sure he had his hands full of her ass. It was almost like he couldn't get enough of her.

“Who knew the Princess was such a whore?”

“Fuck you!” she hissed.

“That's what we're doing love.” he said with a grin. She rolled her eyes with a smirk.

“You have no idea the kind of power you have over a man like me, do you?”

“Nope. At least not until all this started but I’m starting to really enjoy it.”

“You should. You have the power to bring the world to its knees, Shanelle. All you have to do is unlock it and don't look back.”

“You talk too much.”

“You did tell me to convince you.”

“This is you convincing me?”

“I mean you are in my arms completely naked, Princess. But to answer your question, no. This is not me convincing you.” he said before bringing their lips together for a hungry and rough kiss. “This is…”

He trailed off as shifted his position slightly and then brought her down hard onto him. He filled her up completely, stealing her voice.

“You feel so fucking good! Just the way I want you to be! So goddamn tight! So wet! Take it! Take me!” He said to her.

He loved watching her lose control as he took her. She was his and he was determined to make sure she knew it.

“Look at me Shanelle!” he demanded as he forced her to look at him, “I want you to know that you belong to me! Do you hear me? Your body and your heart belong to me! Do you understand? You! Are! MINE!” He growled.

He would pull her off of him just to slam her back down. Driving her insane. His lust and need for her were insatiable. He couldn't be close enough to her. He loved feeling her claw his chest as she rode him. Her moans, gasps, mewls, and any other sound she made drove his hunger for her higher. Every stroke sent her orgasm soaring higher. She was discovering that she loved this side of him. It was raw, pure and dominant. He took control and filled the void in her life that she had desperately tried to fill. When he hit her G-Spot she damn near lost her mind.

“YES! FUCK YES! RIGHT THERE! RIGHT! FUCKING! THERE! TAKE ME! MAKE ME YOURS!” She screamed as she continued to shred his sweat soaked chest with her nails. She was teetering on her edge and soon he would be at his as well.

“That's it! Scream my name! Let it drip from those pretty lips!”

He pulled out of her leaving just the tip in, because he wanted to see her face.

“No! No! No!” She cried out in protest.

“Look at me, Shanelle.”

“Please don’t do this! Not now! Not when I’m so close!” She whined.

“LOOK! AT! ME!” He demanded.

When she looked into his eyes, all she saw was lust and power.

“I want you to look at me as you cum all over me. I want to see the desperation on your face and the wanton need in those beautiful eyes. Do you hear me? Do not break eye contact!”

He kissed her deeply and passionately, before he brought her down on his dick one last time then lost himself inside her. He watched her arch her back and felt her nails dig into his chest drawing blood as she screamed and flooded his dick. Their combined orgasms all but sealed the night for them. As they came down from the beautiful delirium he cradled her close to his chest. Stroking her back he asked her a simple question.

“Convinced yet?”

She didn’t have the strength to answer him and just pinched him.

“Ow!”

She smiled softly before drifting off to sleep in his arms.

The next morning when Shanelle woke up and looked around her room as she tried to piece last night together. It wasn’t until she looked over and saw him laying next to her that it hit her.

“Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! I didn't! I didn't! I! Didn't!”

“You did,” Marquise said with a yawn and stretch, “good morning gorgeous. Last night was fun.”

“I did not sleep with you.”

He arched an eyebrow as he sat up.

“The scratches you left on my chest and my back say otherwise.”

Shanelle wanted to die at the moment.

“Oh! And you were stone cold sober so no use in saying you were drunk to deny what we did last night.”

“What the hell was I thinking?!”

Marquise rolled his eyes.

“You can stop being so damn overdramatic now.”

“Get out of my room!” she hissed.

“I'm not leaving our room.”

“This is MY room! You are in the guest room down the hall.”

That's when he grabbed her chin and looked her dead in the eye.

“My wife is in this room and so am I. So once again, I'm not leaving OUR room.”

“I am NOT your wife!”

Marquise ran a frustrated hand down his face.

“Just when I thought we were making progress.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness.”

“You know I would hate for you to learn the phrase 'what's yours is mine’ the hard way.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Never love. But you’re gonna have to accept the fact that we are stuck together. Whether we want to be or not. So you might as well get used to it.”

Shanelle scoffed.

“Unfuckingbelievable.”

“And now that we have that settled, breakfast is in 45 so go get in the shower.”

“What makes you think you can order me around?!”

“Don't you ever forget your station, Princess! You are beautiful. Very beautiful and one of the smartest women I have ever met. But your station and its rank are STILL WELL BELOW mine. And your consequence is also your father’s consequence. Never forget that.”

Shanelle seethed.

“So what I say goes. Do I make myself clear?”

“Go to hell!” she hissed.

“Don't make me repeat myself, Shanelle.”

Shanelle let out an explosive breath.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good girl. Now go get in the shower. I'll see you in a few.”

He watched her throw on her robe then stomp off to her ensuite. He laid back down when he heard the water turn on. He was so close to his goal, nothing was going to stand in his way. Not even her stubbornness to admit that this is what she truly wants.

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babytortie · 4 years ago

Text

unexpected

unexpected. ❘ stanley uris x reader.

a/n: this was requested by anon - love ur recent stanley fic! was wondering if you’re cool with doing a smut for him? (aged up of course!) if you’re comfortable, could you make the reader more dominant in bed/stanley being more submissive? perhaps and enemies to lovers, hate sex type. other than that, any plot line is just fine.

* hope this lives up to your expectations! tyty for requesting this one.

summary: in which stanley and reader argue worse than richie runs his trashmouth. after burning some pent-up tension one day, the two take a turn for the better and become more than just enemies.

warnings: s m u t. some fluff at end. <3

contains: enemies to lovers, degrading, hair tugging, harsh kisses w/ slight blood, mild orgasm denial, praises, rough and unprotected sex.

* all characters ( including reader ) of the loser's club are 18+ in this one-shot.

~ 3.4k words.

you twirled a strand of hair between your fingers, a magazine placed on your lap, and beverly's head rested on your shoulder, looking at the pages with you.

it was the summer and the group was all back home on break from college. the loser's wanted to hang out and all eight of you were at bill's house right now. on various couch cushions and seats in the living room. his parents were away for the night and the seven brought clothes to stay at his just in case it got a bit late.

"oh, do you think he's hotter? or him?" bev asked, leaning in closer to point at the page. it was some magazine about the hottest actors of the year, achievement wise. though some hot men that were in it was currently grabbing beverly's, well, and your attention too. you glanced down at the page, slightly comparing both actors and voiced, "definitely him."

the guys overheard this and rolled their eyes. they were taking turns playing on bill’s newest nintendo sixty-four. on the floor below you, sat the four a few feet away, this was because they wanted to be scooted closer to the television. even though it was perfectly fine to put their backs against the couch. typical males.

you worried for their eyesight, especially richie’s, since right now he and bill were battling on some game you didn’t know the name of while being too close to the screen. eddie was on a chair next to the couch and sat by you, wheezing as he watched how close of a tie it was between them. mike and stanley were sitting on the floor with them on either side, cheering on who they wanted to win.

this was while ben sat on the other side of bev and read some book that just came out earlier this week. a quarter of ben’s focus was on his hand. it was resting on beverly’s thigh and drawing small, mindless shapes in content. the two were newly dating after pinning on each other for forever.

"i think we should play would you rather!" mike turned his head and suggested after hearing your conversation with the red head. bill had just died on the game causing richie to jump up and cheer while blowing out the other three's ear drums.

ben closed his book and sat up straighter. he took a glimpse over at beverly to see what her decision was. eddie hesitantly agreed when you and bev nodded. “s-sure!” bill got up and pulled stan with him.

one weekend about four years ago when the denbrough’s were home and bill had the group of losers over, they noticed how you all squished on the seats in the living room. surprising bill with an extra couch a month after this, they were able to successfully squeeze it into the room and push it against the other wall.

the four others started to pile on the other couch a few feet away from the three of you and eddie who still sat on the single chair next to you. beverly pulled her head up and leaned over to whisper in your ear, “be nice to stanley please.”

knowing it wasn’t funny, looking at her anyway with a confused expression, you lied. "stanley who?" she immediately turned her neck back at you, probably receiving some whiplash and raised an eyebrow to challenge you.

"i'm serious y/n." beverly laughed dryly. you sighed and replied a short agreeable response. “alright bev, as long as he doesn’t start it, then i won’t do anything.” after, you zipped your lips and threw an imaginary lock in the direction behind eddie.

she smiled at you in thanks and then you two turned towards the room, noticing everyone was ready. “b-being as it w-was mike’s id-dea, he can g-go first.” bill announced while glancing around the room.

mike nodded and turned to the one who still wore coke-bottle glasses years later. “richie, would you rather never wear underwear again or never wear socks again?”

ben and bill stifled a laugh, already knowing what his response was going to be. eddie rolled his eyes as richie answered, “underwear since i go commando sometimes anyway.”

you put your finger in your mouth, pretending that you were about to throw up and mike shook his head at richie. you turned to your right and left, seeing eddie’s and beverly’s disgusted faces.

”okay, eddie spaghetti.” he paused. the seven of you looked at eds, who had already put his hand over his face in annoyance. you and beverly laughed when the shorter boy muttered, “here we go.” richie smirked and continued. “would you rather, accidently send a nude to your boss or your parents? and by parents i mean your mom and i.”

he rolled his eyes, “absolutely not richie. my mom would never get with you and i would die of embarrassment if it were sonia. she’d probably kidnap and lock me in my old room, never to be seen again. probably boss.”

eddie turned to you after the group cackled of laughter, especially richie at the response he was given. the two of you currently shared a science class together in college and the asthmatic based some of his question off of this. "alright y/n, would u rather hook up with one of football players or with mr. jackson down at the science lab?”

you placed the palm of your hand on your cheek, into a thinking position and replied. "well, i kind of answered that question at last weekend’s party?" beverly jumped up at this and gasped. "no way! with which one?"

"i don’t kiss and tell." you smirked. the others gagged at that. “ah okay, i see. that’s where you went when we couldn’t find you again.” ben commented. stanley had been a bit quiet during the conversation and decided to speak up. adding to this, while looking at you pointedly. "you kind of just did tell and admitted at the fact that you sucked off some guy.”

you weren’t usually the type to get flustered during conversations like this. instead owning it as if you weren’t bothered. this helped you avoid any teasing or any richie’s usual jokes. "at least i'm getting some!" muttering in stanley’s direction.

"i swear if you guys argue for one more minute, i'm going to shoot myself. go y/n. it’s your turn." mike spoke up in between you and stanley, trying to get the game rolling again.

you smiled, feeling a little eager at the next question. you looked at the curly haired sitting across the room from you. the others groaned knowing you were about to pick on him in some kind of way. "uris. for the rest of your sex life, would you rather be the top or bottom?”

he blinked in your direction, probably wanting to smack you for the inappropriate question. “depends, is it with anyone specific?” you looked down sheepishly, then back up. is this a trick question? i mean sometimes you did find stanley a little bit too attractive. “do you want it to be?” deciding to quip back with equal attitude, you asked.

the group looked between the two of you while waiting for a response from uris. the tension was so thick that it could be cut with a knife. letting out a scoff in return, he looked at you in the eyes and glared. speaking in a low tone, you almost didn’t hear him. "uh, i don’t know.”

"what do you mean? you don’t know?" richie snickered.

bill, beverly, ben, and mike started to get the picture together. eddie figured it out just a second before them, when you burst out giggling. before you could stop from helping yourself, you let out a harsh jab. “oh shit, that explains why you’re always so uptight! maybe you should unbutton some of that polo? might help so you aren’t choking on all that innocence."

that only made matters worse, the last pin in place to set him off. stanley angrily spewed some words under his breath. only catching your name, you figured it was most likely something badly about you. quickly getting up from his spot, his curls bounced up and down when he rushed upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

the others watched him disappear from the top step sadly and looked back at you with the look. you had the decency to look a bit guilty, an awkward grimace on your face. "uh, why are you all looking at me like that?"

eddie leaned over to elbow you and gave his puppy dog eyes in pleading. you sighed but started getting up anyway. you laced your hands together in front of your stomach, nerves a bit jittery at being in a room alone with him. "well, to state my case we were all having that kind of discussion! if he wasn't such a prude..." you trailed off.

ben got up, patting your shoulder. "we all know this but stanley is sensitive about these kinds of things. go apologize while we're on break now and we’ll get some drinks going."

you nodded and turned back around, starting towards the stairs and walked up slowly. richie decided this was a good time to be the loud trashmouth that he is and shouted. "it was nice knowing you, y/n!"

shaking your head, you reached the last step and rounded the corner. hearing a slap noise, you assumed tozier was probably getting hit on the back of his head. a moment later a "beep beep" came from mike and you let out a small laugh in relief that they had your back against the loud mouth.

strolling down the hallway, you spotted the second guest bedroom door closed and decided to knock on it. stan heard a faint knock and got up from the bed to open it, seeing y/n he groaned. "oh, it's just you."

you ignored his disappointed comment and bit your lip. looking up and down to observe his new look. he must have just changed. wearing a regular light blue t-shirt and grey sweats. you shook your head and looked up to see his grin, catching you in the act of checking him out.

rolling your eyes in response, like he usually did and walking around him, you closed the bedroom door shut after stepping inside. you grabbed a handful of stanley’s shirt and pushed him against the back of the door. more like he allowed you to do this but you were definitely in control of the situation.

you leaned in towards him and swiped the back of your thumb over his bottom lip to test his reaction. when he didn’t swat your hand away, you went on the tip of your toes and brushed his lips against yours.

stanley gasped into your mouth and deciding to use this as an opportunity, you placed the tip of your tongue on the bottom of his lip. right before you could actually do this, he apparently read your mind and left his mouth open purposely. you wanted to slap him.

nonetheless, he allowed you total access. surprising him on purpose, you shoved your tongue in his mouth. wishfully thinking about how you wanted to somehow choke him with it. he grabbed both sides of your shoulders and scooted you closer, clashing his teeth with yours. not wanting to let up the control he tried to grab, you grasped the back of his neck tightly and felt light-headed. sensing wetness pooling between your thighs from enjoying this too much, you cursed to yourself.

a small moan escaped out from your lips and as if it was his fault, you nipped his bottom lip. you tried to quickly get rid the thought of ever giving into stanley uris. he hissed sharply, tasting slight blood from the nick. uris mumbled. "bitch."

this angered you more. pulling away from his lips, you put on a fake smile. moving in a bit closer to mess with the collar of his shirt, you tugged on it roughly, your face still close with his. "ready to not be a virgin anymore, virgin?" you retorted.

he smirked, "as long as i'm not one anymore, i don't care who it's with. even someone like you." he emphasized in a nasty tone. you pulled the shirt up over his head and uttered out. "shut the hell up." stan hummed happily after his shirt was pulled up to see that you were glaring from his reply. the two of you heard loud steps down the hall by the stairs, so you placed a finger over his mouth.

after a moment later, you heard what you assumed was someone in the bathroom, closing door the shut. letting out a breath not realizing you were holding it, stanley took this as a distraction to slip your finger into his mouth. you gasped, eyes widening, "what the hell!"

pulling your hand back, you spoke and stared in his eyes to let him know just how serious you were. "here's how it's going to go if you want to get laid, uris. we're doing this my way. don't play around anymore and definitely don’t talk too much so i can picture literally anyone other than you."

stanley looked into your eyes, searching for any hints of a lie from your remark. when he saw your eyes looking clearly back into his, he sighed in defeat. not letting it show, he grinned nastily. ”fine by me, y/l/n.”

"now, bird-boy are you sure you can handle this?" you stated more than questioned, an eyebrow quirked up. you held onto the top of his sweats with an eyebrow quirked up. he clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth together so hard he hoped they wouldn't crack. "fuck you y/n."

“no, that’s what i’ll be doing to you.” disagreeing and putting your palm over him. “what do we have here?” you asked out loud, in general all snarky. he let out an annoyed noise when he felt you tease fingertips across his hard length. so, in retaliation, he grabbed your wrist and pushed the palm of your hand harder onto him.

you gasped at how big he was. you tried to cover the surprise, a ‘tsk, tsk’ falling from your lips. not letting go quickly enough stanley noticed this and smirked at you. frowning, you murmured. "ever heard of patience? such a bad boy."

uris let out a small, quiet groan from feeling your hands come off of him. which was something you caught and figured having teased him enough, you put your hands around the waistband of his pants. tugging them off along with his boxers. afterwards you pushed him down onto the bed and before he could do anything, you quickly made work of your shirt. pulling it over your head and unclipping your bra as well.

he put a hand through his curls, smoothing them out from the fall when he fell into the comforter. watching you, he could feel himself hardening painfully. he felt needy and done with the wait. pulling your wrist closer he pleaded. “come on, hurry. please y/n.”

”fine, you’ve waited long enough like a good little boy.” stanley flushed at your approving compliment and tried to hide it, looking down. you saw this when you moved to sit on top of him and smiled. grabbing his chin lightly, you tilted his head back up. while looking into his light brown eyes, you held his wrist and tugged his hand so it laid over on top your breast.

stanley’s breath hitched and you moved inwards toward his neck. your warm breath was touching his skin, feeling cheeks reddening more. uris felt, palmed, and squeezed a little as you sucked small hickeys on his neck. not to dark but enough to be just visible if one were close up.

kissing his cheek and tilting back up, he dropped his hand and you happened to see his cheeks and neck all red. the quick switch of his attitude still shocked you to the core. ”are you sorry for calling me a bad name, baby?” he ignored your comment like a brat and kissed the inside of your wrist. you melted a little in his touch before going back to the task at hand.

you slowly let out of his grasp to unbuckle the belt and unbutton your shorts. you shimmied out of them and wanting to hurry up, you just moved your panties to the side and out of the way. pumping him a few times, you started to align him to your center. before you moved down onto him, you placed your hand on his cheeks in a sweet gesture and silently asked for reassurance. he nodded and you slowly slid down into him, both of you letting out small moans. “feel so good.” you muttered.

stilled for a moment, you let yourself adjust to his length and him to the feel. your hips went back up and you moved in forward, kissing him again. it slowly turned into a sloppy make out when you slammed your hips back down again. his tongue shoved in your mouth when you gasped in pleasure. after you found a rhythm you babbled on and on about how stanley was doing so good for you.

"i need you to put your fingers on my clit and rub." you said softly but still in a demanding tone. directing his hand exactly where you wanted it, you nodded when he looked at you again. his fingers moved quickly, drawing out an orgasm that you felt nearing.

lacing your fingers through his curly hair. stanley let out a loud moan as you tugged the locks. "now for the sake of you being able to cum, i'm going to ask again. are you sorry my baby boy?" he really didn't want to have to see the satisfactory in your face if he apologized. though, after a small moment went by, he realized that you weren't joking.

he let out a small, almost incoherent whine. pleading you with his big hazel eyes, "i-i'm sorry y/n. so sorry, c-can i cum please?" stanley would have never thought he'd be the submissive type but he found himself melting at your praises, quite easily. he liked letting you have some control and for once being able to sit back.

you smirked at him and let go. patting his cheek in almost a mocking way. "awe such a good boy but i think you can wait another minute." his eyes widened and you placed your hands back up onto his chest, steadying your balance before moving your hips back up and down repeatedly and harshly against his. he moaned when you kept going back down on his cock. feeling his pelvis right up against your very sensitive bundle of nerves, you squirmed.

stanley smirked, feeling you tighten around him. knowing you were close was a relief. constantly feeling so good on him made him hard and straining inside of you. tears prickling in the back of his eyes and wanting to cum so badly was difficult. uris felt not wanting to disobey you was more important as he patiently waited. pushing harder on your clit is what caused you to unravel, tightening completely around him. "oh fuck! s-such a good boy. cum with me now."

he came so hard, the hardest ever. which wasn't much to go off on, from the obvious conversation before. feeling euphoria, you rode through your high and his, milking every last drop of cum. you started to feel shaky. before your hips gave out, you placed one last kiss on his slightly darkening hickey.

after you fell on the bed next to him, he pulled you close. you turned your head in his embrace, eyes widening. you knew without a doubt they looked like they were probably about to fall out of the sockets. assuming even bigger eyes then richie's usual ones due to his glasses.

uris pursed his lips, kissing the top of your forehead before he could overthink it. “we need to talk. y/n/n." you tried to open your mouth, but closed it again. stanley used your nickname, he has never used it before. you were in disbelief, frozen, and unable to say a word. he rescued you and spoke up again. "you know i don't hate you, right?"

you swallowed feeling like a brick was falling from your shoulders and nodded. "i don't hate you either stan. this is not what i was expecting though to make up." you giggled causing him to chime in. the awkwardness was finally settled but you paused and asked nervously. "do you think we're worse than eddie and richie?"

he shook his head, not even needing to think on it and responded sweetly. "no, we're okay now and i have a feeling that richie will tease eddie even after we're all dead."

you laughed together once more, agreeing with stan’s opinion which would probably be a proven fact one day. "that's true. poor eddie!" snuggling closer into his back and finally, truly feeling at peace.

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repentantsky · 4 years ago

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9 Things I’d like to see at E3, 2021

So E3 2021 is a thing. It’s gonna be all digital, and several companies have already signed up to join, sounds like a good deal, but the question is, will it be what we normally expect out of E3, or will it be more like Summer Game Fest Last Year, where everything that looked like it was gonna be great, but just turned out to be okay? Who can say, but I have some...suggestions, that might make it better, along with some game announcements, that might make it all it should be cracked up to be.

9. No low quality, at home interviews during the main show

E3 has had a history of doing interviews during game shows to try and break pace a little, and keep people from being too excited, only to potentially be let down later. However, possibly the worst problem with Summer Game Fest last year, was the at home interviews, which broke pacing during game announcements in a way I can’t imagine was on purpose, and for many, was the time to take a bathroom break, or simply look away for a while. It’s important of course to hear from developers about their projects, and they can divulge some interesting information about games, that either puts something confusing into context, or is accidently leaked, but when we watch shows about game releases, we want to see the games. Interviews should be held in between shows, or better yet, the days following the conferences themselves.

8. Nintendo finally talks about the big three

While it’s safe to say Nintendo has done some banger numbers over the last year espeically, due to better console availability, which I never thought I’d say about Nintendo but here we are, it’s also safe to say that fans have been waiting for literal years on Bayonetta 3, Metroid Prime 4, and Breath of the Wild 2. While some have been more patient than others, and of course I understand there’s a flipping pandemic going on, Nintendo told us far too long ago about these games, or the restart of their development, and Breath of the Wild 2 was promised to at least get an update this year, and E3 seems like the best place to do it, especially after their last direct, one that was more than a year in waiting, and left so many people disappointed. And this is coming from someone who had literally only hoped to be excited about one thing, and it didn’t happen The future of how they present games, almost feels like it’s in question after such a show, which did not justify itself, so hopefully, they can finally let everyone walk away happy, and talk about the projects that have been generation the most excitement, for literal years now.

7. Space things out better

You might now know this, I only made one list about it after all, and literally no one reacted to it, but I’m a huge wrestling fan, and one of the promotions I watch, is WWE. Now, WWE is about to launch WrestleMania, their equal to E3 in a lot of ways, and are splitting it up over two days, and that goes for their third brand NXT as well, because they have a history of making the show sometimes 8 hours long. For fans of video games, watching The Game Awards, which can be two to three hours long, is arduous, and tiring, and E3, can also have that same effect. I remember in 2019, I literally fell asleep watching Bethesda’s conference, because I was so tired trying to write about the previous shows in between them, never mind actually watching them, that I was burnt out. Since E3 is going fully digital this year, and everyone is going to be in that same boat, it would be nice if we didn’t have too many shows, spanning over a near 12 hour period, which was happened before, making people stay up late to enjoy what they want to, or you know, work, which is free promotion for whatever gets announced. Spacing the shows out to no more than three a day, and giving people enough time to get their thoughts together, would just be really nice.

6. Devolver Digital, tries a different style

Look, I don’t hate Devolver Digital’s approach to talking about games at E3, but what I do hate, is them telling the same jokes over and over again, and expecting everyone to laugh, because you know, it’s so funny when something that’s already been said, or shown, is modified ever so slightly for years on end. I’m not saying they can’t still tell jokes, please do, E3 is as much a good time as it is stressful depending on who you are, so the change of pace can at times be a lot of fun, but the last time they had a “conference”, it was a slog, and generally left me feeling annoyed, and I can’t help but feel I’m not the only one. They want to be different, I say that’s great, but they need to do it in a way that for one, is actually different, because their style has become a cliché in and of itself, and where they don’t spend time talking about fake games, because it’s hard to know at times what’s real and what isn’t. I honestly thought the last time they did one, the final game they talked about was just a play on the “one more thing” trope conferences have, and when I later realized it wasn’t, I never got that first sense of hype, and so lost interest, and that’s not a good business model. We don’t even know at this point if they’re going to declare for E3, and since it was announced late, it might be too hard to get a show at all, but if they do show up, or even when they next do a conference, it would be nice if they considered this line of thinking.

5. Drop the “Exclusive Online Portal” idea

Yeah I don’t know what the ESA was thinking with this one, but they mentioned that E3 will be streaming from an exclusive online portal, and not only do we not know what that means, but no one flipping cares! We’re all going to watching it on YouTube, Twitch, or dare I say it but it’s possible, Facebook Gaming, and any other platform is completely useless. We are all tired of hearing, download a new program to do a thing you can already do on other platforms, PC gamers especially, stop releasing new flipping launchers and...sorry, that’s for another list in the future perhaps, but the point stands. You might get streamers to download, or go to whatever site they need to, to watch the shows, but everyone else, is either going to watch those streams, or as it often happens, watch the highlights at a later time, so to add a potentially extra step to that process, is just not going to go anywhere, and since E3 will be free to watch, it’s not like this is going to be a good way to make money, unless you do plan to do the following...

4. Throwing flipping ads at everyone between shows or otherwise

Look, I get it, even an online show that’s going to be talking about games costs money to make, and so money must be made by other means, many of which are not available to the ESA without people actually being present, but the thing about E3 is, as much as we all love it, it is one massive ad, and even though it’s an add we like, it’s not one that needs too many ads thrown at it beyond what it already has. There are other, less annoying ways to make money, like having products from the games announced be available at a store online that people can access, that sees them getting part of the profit, or something of that nature, but this portal that was mentioned, seems like a place where the ESA can just throw ads at people all day, and that just seems like a horrible idea. A lot of people don’t see E3 as an ad, even though it absolutely is, and blowing away the smoke and mirrors that it’s not, by throwing countless ads at people for the sake of trying to make money, might be the end of E3 as we know it.

3. Don’t spend too much time talking about games that are coming out close to the event, or just came out

Like I said, E3 is one big, massive ad, and for the most part, that’s totally alright, but E3 also has a habit of sneaking in little bits talking about games, that are coming out during the week of, or very close to the shows, to the point of being annoying. Most of the time these ads are short, show nothing new, and generally kill the pace of the conferences on display. While it’d be one thing to try and shadow drop a game this way, because we all love a good shadow drop, we really don’t need ads for games like FF7 Intergrade, Ratchet and Clank: Rift Apart, or flipping Mario Golf: Super Rush. We know those games are coming, we are paying attention, give us a little credit, and save that for games that could use the push like Neptunia: ReVerse, Legend of Mana, or maybe even Scarlett Nexus who actually in way, has to compete with Mario Golf. This might be more a developer problem, and E3 itself might actually have little to no control over this, but whoever does it, needs to do it right.

2. Xbox needs to stop lying, and go big

I love Xbox, I really do, for whatever reason it’s become my go to place for physical indie games, and whenever I want to play a shooter, I start thinking green, but in their conferences, Phil Spencer has a tendency to oversell what Xbox is going to show, by talking about how many games are going to be at the show, or by constantly mentioning how Xbox is more powerful than it’s competitor consoles, like it does any good for the bottom line of the company. I don’t want to hear Phil say they are going to show off 80 games during their show, and have half of them be ports, or shown off in a montage. Doing that means everyone has to go look up a large portion of what they actually announce to learn anything, and that’s no fun. I don’t want montages during E3 at all, and while I’m at it, Xbox espeically needs to bring in the big guns. I’m talking Halo Infinite, Gears 6, the next Forza game, and maybe, finally, a Japanese exclusive title that will get people really hyped. Xbox might just have free reign over the show on the day they present, but another show that has extremely mixed opinions like in 2019, might not be the best thing ever.

1. GET. SONY.

Obviously we know that Sony and the PlayStation brand haven’t been associated with E3 for a while now, and I get it, it’s kind of hard to justify going down to L.A. every year, when an online digital show, saves a whole bunch of money, and can get people just as hyped as if they had been there, but this year, everything is online, and Sony’s State of Play’s have been a mixed reaction as a whole. Taking them to E3 not only sets up more hype for them, but it also gives people something they really need right now, something close to the norm, with all of console developers, showing off their best. E3 2019, just felt weaker, and too safe without Sony there, and last year was a total, long winded disaster because of Summer Game Fest. If the ESA is really going to go for this, and give it an earnest shot, and give us the best that they can, they need Sony to show up and blow our minds with, I don’t know, God of War 2, Spyro 4 (hopefully) and a new IP or two to really get the show to being considered one of the best. E3 will probably be alright regardless of if they are there or not, but if they are, the chances of it being truly great, go up in spades.

And that’s my list, did I miss anything else you can think of? Let me know in the comments below, like this list if it interested you, reblog it if you love it, and have a wonderful day.

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babysizedfics · 4 years ago

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Little Accidents, Big Developments

Chapter 5: A Little Reconciliation

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Roman mollycoddles his brother, Patton makes a suggestion, Logan is perceptive, and Virgil is brave.

Chapter word count: 8,500

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Content warning: This chapter addresses (and resolves) some negative self-talk with regards to age regression, as well as alluding to cyberbullying. Please proceed with caution if you are sensitive to either of these topics.

Also, there is some swearing at the start - what else would you expect from adult Roman and Virgil?

oOo

Roman marched up the stairs armed with cookies, milk, and fierce determination.

The events of the previous day had left him wallowing in regret all night, and he was tired of it. No matter how much his caregivers had both made a significant dent in the cloud of guilt that fogged his mind, he could not stop replaying his own laughter in his head. He had been awful to Virgil the day before, and Roman had known he could not truly feel at ease until he had apologised to him properly and earned his little brother’s forgiveness.

He had been prepared to partake in all manner of valiant acts to prove his loyalty; he was willing to slay the Dragon Witch in Virgil’s name, to erect a statue in his likeness and honour, even to let Virgil get the first pick on movie nights for a whole month.

He had said as much to Virgil in the kitchen that morning. In response, Virgil had nodded, said “It’s cool,” and then left the room.

It’s cool?! Roman was quite frankly appalled by the lack of dramatic flair. Where were the tears? The arguments? The emotionally-overwhelmed collapse into Roman’s waiting arms? It had not gone as he had rehearsed in the mirror at all.

When Roman complained about this to Logan, the logical side had; 1) asked why Roman wanted Virgil to cry, yell, and/or faint, 2) reminded him that Virgil had forgiven him and had clearly done so in whatever way he deemed fit, and 3) told Roman to stop being so dramatic.

Needless to say, Roman was no longer on speaking terms with Logan.

Never one to give up in the face of a challenge, Roman had found Virgil in the living room and apologised again (an abridged version of his speech this time around). He received a small smile and thumbs up in return before Virgil went back to scrolling on his phone silently.

Once again, Roman was surprised. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be forgiven, but it had been far too easy. It was not satisfying. And so he continued to apologise throughout the morning whenever he saw Virgil - which incidentally happened a lot since Roman sought him out constantly.

It was around the fourth apology that Virgil had stopped smiling and nodding and instead simply rolled his eyes or walked past Roman without a word. Roman was wont to call it rude, but he couldn’t really comment on it given his behaviour a day before. The logical conclusion was that Roman’s courageous offers were simply not pleasing to Virgil.

Upon review, Roman begrudgingly accepted that Virgil wouldn’t necessarily care much about an imaginary monster being defeated for the hundredth time, or for a statue of himself given how self-conscious he was. As for the movie nights, Roman didn’t necessarily mind that he would still have the first pick on the films, so that really wasn’t worth complaining about. He realised he had to make his repentance more personal.

And what was more personal to Virgil than his littlespace? The boy adored it when Logan and Patton took care of him so (against all instincts) Roman resolved to prove himself through caregiving. As uncomfortable as it had made him when he had attempted caregiving all those weeks ago, it seemed the most effective course of action. And wouldn’t the fact that Virgil knew he didn’t enjoy it just prove Roman’s point even more? That he was willing to go above and beyond to show Virgil how much he cared about him, despite his own discomfort!

He had waited for Logan to disappear from the kitchen to load some cookies onto a tray, along with one of Virgil’s sippy cups full to the brim with almond milk. Now, standing outside Virgil’s room, Roman smothered the inkling of dread in his stomach and rapped on the door heartily.

‘Oh, Virgil,’ he sang, ‘Will you grant me entry to your kingdom?’

There was quiet for a moment and then, muffled through the wood: ‘Only if you promise not to apologise again.’

‘Damn…’ Roman whispered to himself, taking a moment to reconsider his plan. Well, he could still practice it without technically apologising. Years of improv work hadn’t exactly taught him nothing of adapting to unexpected situations. ‘All right, I promise,’ he yelled back confidently.

‘Fine,’ Virgil groaned and Roman lowered the door handle with his hip, being careful not to jostle the tray in his hands too much.

‘Greetings, Grumpy Space Princess!’ Roman called as he waltzed into the room with a wide grin.

Virgil was lying upside down on his bed with his head hanging off of the end, his Nintendo Switch held up in front of him. ‘What’s up, Princess Bubble-head?’

Roman smiled, appreciative that Virgil was a truly worthy opponent when it came to the Great Nickname Games. Though he did not let himself dwell on that for long and internally shook himself into his role, taking heavy inspiration from Patton.

‘Nothing much, kiddo,’ he said gleefully. ‘Just thought you might want a little snack!’

‘Kiddo?’ Virgil repeated, slowly lowering the game console from his eyes. Though they were upside down, Roman clearly noted the suspicion on Virgil’s features.

Roman continued smiling regardless, walking over to the bed. ‘How’s milk and cookies sound, Vee?’

‘But we haven’t had lunch yet.’

‘Yeah, don’t tell Logan,’ Roman whispered with a conspiratorial wink

‘Is this a trick?’ Virgil immediately asked. He squinted at Roman in suspicion. ‘What did you put in the cookies?’

‘Absolutely nothing and I resent the question,’ Roman couldn’t help but gasp in offence. As if he would stoop so low as to… what, poison Virgil? He had half a mind to turn back and eat the cookies himself. If only he weren’t utterly desperate for Virgil’s forgiveness.

‘Right, no, yeah,’ Virgil hurriedly backtracked, seeming humbled. ‘Sorry.’ Then the younger side sat up and spun his butt on the bed so that he faced Roman with his legs crossed. ‘Do you wanna…’ He indicated the other side of the bed in invitation.

Roman beamed. Clearly, this was the go-ahead for his plan.

‘Thanks, Stormcloud!’ He settled onto the bed beside Virgil, placing the tray in front of them both.

‘Thanks yourself for the cookies,’ Virgil smiled meekly. His gaze trailed over to the sippy cup on the tray and his eyebrows furrowed a little.

‘Anything wrong, sw-sport?’ Roman asked, cursing himself for chickening out at the last second. He had meant to call Virgil “sweetheart” as Patton so often did. Though while he was no stranger to using the nickname during courtships, it felt strange to call Virgil by it. Still, he had a role to fill and forgiveness to earn, so he couldn’t afford another slip-up like that again.

‘Nah, it’s cool,’ Virgil muttered and reached for the sippy cup. His movements seemed halted and his eyes briefly darted between the cup and Roman for a second before he sheepishly sipped at it.

Those words again: It’s cool. They infuriated Roman! But he took a steadying breath and pushed his irritation down. He had a baby to coax out, and anger would surely be counterproductive.

He reached forward for one of the cookies and snapped it in half, then held one piece up in front of Virgil with a smile.

Virgil frowned and lowered his sippy cup from his lips. ‘You wanna share one?’

‘No, silly!’ Roman giggled, putting all of the energy he usually observed in Papa Patton into his tone. ‘Are you ready?’

‘Ready for what?’

‘Here comes the cookie train!’ Roman sang, slowly pushing the cookie forward towards Virgil’s mouth. ‘Chugga chugga choo choo!’

Virgil’s eyes widened and his free hand flew up to grab Roman’s wrist before he had a chance to press the cookie to his lips. ‘I can feed myself!’

‘Oh…’ So apparently that technique wasn’t the way to go about it. ‘Apologies,’ Roman said. He pulled the cookie piece back and shoved it between his lips.

Virgil sighed quietly and reached for the other half of the cookie. He threw it into his mouth and munched on it as he pulled his Switch into his lap, resuming the game.

Meanwhile, Roman chewed thoughtfully. Perhaps Virgil wasn’t up for a baby headspace but would rather be a young child who was still able to feed himself. Though it was uncommon for him to be in a comparatively older regressed headspace, it wasn’t unheard of. And if Virgil was not comfortable with Roman feeding him, it didn’t automatically have to be the end of his plan. But what could Roman do to make it easier? What exactly was it that Patton did differently to be able to make Virgil regress in an instant?

Roman thought back to all the times he had witnessed it happening, quickly noticing a pattern. Patton always complimented Virgil (usually by calling him “cute” or “pretty” or “my little sweet and sour dumpling”) and touched him in some way (either with a nose boop or gentle tickles or head strokes). Roman would be a fool not to apply this knowledge, and a prince was no fool.

He decided to go about a subtle route, not wanting to startle Virgil again as that would probably hinder his regression.

‘Oh, that looks like a cute game,’ Roman said casually, pointing at the console balanced on Virgil’s knee.

‘You don’t know this one?’ Virgil asked, sounding surprised. He played with one hand as his other gripped the sippy cup.

Roman leaned closer, observing the colourful, animalistic characters who walked aimlessly around what appeared to be an island resort.

‘Ohh, is this the one with the capitalist raccoon who forces you to labour all day then takes all of your money?’

Virgil snorted. ‘He’s a tanuki, not a racoon. But yeah, essentially,’ he shrugged and tipped the sippy cup up to his lips.

Roman scooted closer on the mattress, trying to initiate casual contact. His thigh brushed Virgil’s and the other didn’t seem to mind it. With an internal hurrah, Roman initiated part two of his plan B.

‘Aw, is that you?’ he asked in a slight baby-talk voice, pointing at the chibi character on the screen. They had lilac hair and were sporting a rather intricate gothic dress. (For such a basic character design Roman was massively impressed by the attention to detail on the costume. He resolved to investigate it later as he had a job to do at the present moment.)

‘Mhm,’ Virgil hummed through a mouthful of milk then swallowed, ‘that’s me.’ He twiddled the joystick so that the character did a little spin.

‘Adorable!’ Roman gushed, and it was only half put-on (the game really did look sweet). Then he turned to Virgil, glad that their faces were mere inches apart. It would surely create intimacy and trust between them and hence spur on Virgil’s headspace. ‘But y’know what’s even more adorable?’

‘What?’ Virgil questioned, turning to look at Roman then freezing. A faint look of worry graced his features, though Roman assumed he was simply nervous about regressing around Roman alone. ‘What are you -’

‘This little Virgil right here!’ Roman smiled and wiggled his fingers over Virgil’s side.

Virgil broke into muffled titters. ‘S-stop,’ he stuttered, unable to get through the word without laughing. ‘R-Ro-ho-man!’

‘Aw, listen to your little giggles,’ Roman cooed, pushing an adoring tone past the strange heaviness in his chest. He just didn’t feel right doing this. But it had to be right, Virgil was laughing and smiling and had always enjoyed it whenever Patton did the exact same.

So Roman continued. He forced his own small laugh and doubled down on the tickling, jiggling his hand quicker over Virgil’s ribs. The boy squeaked and dropped his sippy cup to the mattress. (The cup was non-spill, gladly.)

‘No-ho m-more,’ Virgil pleaded through his giggles and pushed on Roman’s wrist firmly.

‘You can’t get rid of me that easily.’ On a whim, Roman went to poke Virgil’s nose with his free hand. Twice the contact probably meant twice the likelihood of regressing, going by his logic.

At the very same moment that his finger pushed forward, though, he must have unwittingly hit a sensitive spot on Virgil’s ribs because the younger side’s face unexpectedly lurched forward with a gasp. Roman’s finger ended up poking Virgil’s eye.

‘Ow!’ Virgil whined, shoving Roman’s hands away harshly. ‘What the heck, Ro?!’ He raised a hand to cover his assaulted eye while the other stared at Roman in shock.

Roman was stunned for a moment, feeling suddenly small. He had messed up again. He had hurt Virgil. Again! He just wanted their caregivers to make it better like they always did, but this was Roman’s mistake. He couldn’t always rely upon Patton and Logan when he accidentally hurt his brother. He had to learn to do it alone.

‘Shit, I -’ Roman clicked his mouth shut and shook his head. (Back into character, goddamnit!) ‘Oh, poor baby,’ he pouted in sympathy.

Virgil only looked more indignant, his hand lowering from his eye which was, thankfully, uninjured. ‘What?’

‘Don’t worry little, uh, guy.’ Roman winced at his phrasing. ‘Uncle Roman will kiss it better!’

Roman started leaning forward, his hands held out in a placating manner - though they trembled slightly.

‘Stop!’ Virgil yelled, placing his hands firmly on Roman’s shoulders and keeping him at arm’s length.

A glimmer of relief flickered in Roman’s chest.

‘What are you doing?’ Virgil asked clearly, his expression a mix of confusion, irritation, and concern.

‘I - I’m trying to kiss your boo-boo better, kiddo.’ Roman attempted to smile, though even he had to admit his acting was no longer up to scratch. He was feeling jittery. This wasn’t right!

Virgil’s eyebrows raised and he offered no further response. How on Earth did he master those nuanced expressions so well? Roman almost wanted to ask for tips.

‘Fine,’ Roman sighed, throwing his arms up into the air as he dropped the act. ‘I kinda thought maybe I could babysit you for a while.’ Despite his words, he knew the pout on his face must not have commanded much respect.

‘I…’ Virgil paused, blinking slowly. ‘Princey, you hate caregiving,’ he burst out, incredulous. ‘I thought we established that weeks ago. And anyway you’re shit at it.’

‘Charming,’ Roman grunted, crossing his arms and diverting his gaze to the mattress. He didn’t need to be good at caregiving, he didn’t even necessarily want to be good at caregiving, but he would be damned if he actually admitted to being bad at something.

‘Why are you babying me all of a sudden?’ Virgil’s voice was softer now.

‘I just wanted to make up for yesterday!’ Roman cracked, though he was conscious to not outright yell, knowing Virgil’s sensitivity to loud noises would not do him any favours. ‘I want to prove to you that I’m sorry about what I did, but you barely acknowledged my other apologies,’ he explained, annoyance seeping into his tone. Virgil’s eyes dropped to his lap. ‘And you obviously didn’t care for my other ideas for acts of chivalry, so -’ he flailed his arms around in frustration ‘- I’m making do!’

The silence in the room somehow rang louder than Roman’s outburst, and he felt a knot of embarrassment start to clench his stomach.

Before it had time to grow any bigger, Virgil spoke up: ‘I’m sorry.’

‘What?’ Roman frowned and looked back up to him. Virgil looked horribly guilty. ‘No, I think you’re confused. I’m here so that I can apologise.’

‘Yeah, I got that.’ Virgil’s lips pulled into a small smile, then it dropped again. ‘Listen… I’m sorry for being kind of flippant earlier.’ He looked down, shrugging his shoulders up to his neck and holding them there. ‘I do forgive you, I just -’ he paused and Roman noted his cheeks had turned rosy. ‘I just didn’t want us to make such a big deal out of what happened, y’know?’

‘Oh…’ Roman breathed. This type of forgiveness was unexpected (not unlike anything else that had happened that day, so really shouldn’t he have expected it to be unexpected?) but nonetheless acceptable. If Virgil truly did forgive him then that should have been enough for Roman.

‘I mean thank you for apologising. Like, twenty times,’ Virgil said hastily, clearly noticing Roman’s surprise. ‘I do appreciate it - even if I never want to experience “Uncle Roman” ever again in my life.’ He looked back up at Roman shyly, ‘But can we please just pretend it didn’t happen?’

‘Uh, yeah. Sure. It - it’s cool,’ Roman replied with a weak nod, distracted by the persistent emptiness in his chest.

Virgil bumped their knees together amiably then went back to his game.

After a minute or so of the controller clicking and the cutesy music blaring from the small speaker, Roman realised he was still unsettled by the situation. He communicated this to Virgil in the most effective way he knew how: by groaning loudly and forlornly.

‘What is it?’ Virgil asked in his most dramatic, long-suffering whine. It was a little teasing quirk they had picked up together that was entirely well-intended. The familiarity of it made Roman feel somewhat better about admitting the issue.

‘It’s just this niggling feeling, you know?’ he asked, fully aware that Virgil did not know. ‘I have to do something. I have the rich blue blood of a prince, for heaven’s sake.’ His eyes wandered around the room as if looking for a solution to his lament. ‘If I cannot defeat a villain in your honour or commit some other brave, valiant act of -’

He paused abruptly as his eyes settled on something. A stuffed raccoon lay abandoned on the floor by Virgil’s bed, torn in two. Roman was sure he remembered Virgil naming it Meeko, after his beloved character from Pocahontas.

‘Dear Zeus, I believe I have it!’ Roman cried triumphantly.

Virgil startled at the sudden noise and Roman turned to him with an apologetic smile. The emo only looked vaguely miffed.

‘Glad you’ve reached a solution, but do you think you could have a dramatic epiphany elsewhere?’ Virgil mumbled, eyes flitting back to his screen. ‘I have debts to pay here.’

Normally it would have annoyed him to be pushed aside for no more than a video game, but luckily for Virgil, Roman had a new job to do. He just needed to sneak Meeko out unnoticed.

‘I thought you said you paid off your debts last week,’ Roman said easily, subtly dropping his leg over the edge of the bed.

‘Yeah, but now I have more,’ Virgil shrugged, unaware of Roman’s movements. ‘It’s kind of a constant in this game.’

Roman hooked his socked toes around one half of the plush on the floor and silently dragged it closer. ‘Doesn’t living in constant debt stress you out though?’ He hooked his toes around the other piece of the toy, looking carefully out of the corner of his eye.

‘It’s actually super chill. You, like, go fishing and catch bugs and stuff.’ Virgil carried on talking, though Roman’s attention was quite preoccupied. ‘And you meet these animals and invite them to your island. You’d like them, they’re really sassy.’

‘Uhuh, uhuh,’ Roman hummed noncommittally, slowly inching his hand down to grab the stuffie pieces and trying to act as if he was just itching his leg.

‘You plant flowers and craft furniture and stuff. Then there’s this cool museum.’

Roman hurriedly stuffed the plushie pieces inside his jacket, masking the movement with a cough. He hazarded a glance to Virgil, glad to see that he was completely enraptured by the game, seemingly unaware of anything that was not pixelated.

‘You can design your own clothes too, look.’ Virgil pushed the screen in front of Roman and showed that his character was now wearing an in-game replication of his signature purple and black patched hoodie.

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Oh my goodness, that’s brilliant,’ he whispered, partly impressed by the game, though mostly impressed by the incredible idea that just popped into his head.

‘You should totally get the game. We could play together,’ Virgil said, smiling when he brought the console back to his lap.

‘I would like that,’ Roman said sincerely. ‘Though for now, I must be off.’

He rose from the bed, being careful to keep his left arm clutched tightly to his side to avoid dropping the toy and ruining his plan. He was ready to go and settle down to hours of work, but the child in him begged him to do one last thing before he left.

‘Still brothers?’ he asked hesitantly.

Virgil immediately looked up from the screen, his expression soft around the edges. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly with a smile. ‘Still brothers.’

‘Yes!’ Roman cheered, punching the air with his right hand. It was followed by a huff of amusement from Virgil. ‘Love you, Virge,’ Roman said offhandedly as he turned away, ready to leave at that.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Virgil mumbled.

Roman paused on his way out. He knew Virgil fairly well, having spent so much time around him during the previous few months, and so he liked to think he had a fairly decent amalgamation of the varying tones of Virgil’s mumbles and what they meant. The wheezy ones showed distress, the stunted ones showed annoyance, the lowest ones showed reluctant happiness. This particular brand of mumble, quiet and high-pitched, projected Virgil’s embarrassment. And honestly what kind of big brother would Roman be if he missed such a harmless opportunity for teasing?

He spun back around with a smirk which only grew wider when Virgil saw it and groaned.

‘Say it,’ Roman insisted, holding back a laugh.

‘Go ‘way,’ Virgil whined, pulling his console up to cover his face, though Roman could still spy the blush peeking from behind it.

‘Aww, come on.’ Roman stepped closer to the bed, giggling when Virgil brought the Switch so close to his face that it touched his nose. ‘You said it yesterday,’ Roman sing-songed, kneeling down right in front of Virgil on the bed.

‘Then you shouldn’t need to hear it again,’ Virgil grumbled.

‘Oh, but I’ve forgotten what the pure adoration in your voice sounded like,’ Roman teased, reaching forward to lower the gadget from Virgil’s face. He bit his tongue in amusement when Virgil glared at him past bright pink cheeks. ‘How did you say it? “Wuvoo, Wo-Wo”?’

‘You’re no longer welcome in my kingdom.’

Roman shrugged, still being careful to keep his left arm secure over the stuffed racoon in his jacket. He swivelled his legs to plop down onto the bed.

‘Not leaving until you say it,’ he proclaimed proudly.

Virgil growled (adorably) and dropped the console to the bed, crossing his arms. An unintelligible mumble left his lips.

‘Hm, what was that?’ Roman asked with a giddy smile. He held his ear forward with his free hand. ‘I couldn’t quite hear -’

‘I love you, you weirdo!’ Virgil said loudly, seemingly agitated, though Roman knew there was no real heat behind it (he was well-versed in recognising Virgil’s playful irritation versus his real, leave-me-alone-right-now-or-suffer irritation). ‘Now get out of my room.’

Roman stood and bowed regally, ‘As you wish, Princess Bitter-cup.’

Something small and soft was hurled at his head.

‘Wow,’ Roman chuckled, picking up the tiny giraffe stuffie from the floor with his free hand and chucking it back onto Virgil’s toy pile. ‘Even when you’re a bitch you’re adorable.’

The pout on Virgil’s face was not a dangerous one so Roman winked. He sauntered off towards the door, finally satisfied that the guilty fog in his head had blown away. ‘See you later, lil bro.’

‘Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, big bro,’ Virgil responded sarcastically behind him.

Roman gasped, turning back around in the open doorway. ‘Umm, rude much - Ahh!’ He had to hurriedly jump back into the hallway to avoid being hit in the face by the door, which had suddenly slammed shut.

Waiting a moment for his heart to stop beating so hard from the spike of adrenaline, Roman heard muffled laughter coming from the bedroom. He scoffed and shook his head.

One of their house rules was to not use their metaphysical powers in the mindscape unless entirely unavoidable. Logan reserved his powers for actual emergencies, such as when the kitchen had set on fire. Patton only stretched the rules a little by using his powers to clean parts of the house that were difficult to reach or otherwise highly inconvenient. Roman used his powers only for absolute dire needs, such as summoning medical aid after an arduous adventure in the imagination (though on one occasion he had summoned puppies for desperately-needed snuggles). And Virgil, coming from years of living with the Other sides who used no such rule in their establishment, respected the rule for the most part, though renounced it on occasion in favour of performing relatively harmless pranks.

Roman could have tattled on him to Logan, though they had only just reconciled, so perhaps it wouldn’t have been the wisest decision. Plus, the next few hours of his time were decidedly booked.

He made his way down the hallway, already drawing up designs in his head. Being so inspired by his ingenious ideas, he almost bumped right into Logan at the top of the stairs.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Roman muttered, wondering how many more times he would utter that word that day.

When Roman looked up, he was unsurprised to see that Patton stood right beside Logan. The two had been almost inseparable for the past two weeks when they weren’t caring for Roman and Virgil, and Roman was absolutely enamoured by their adorable attempts at keeping their budding relationship on the subtle side. They were obviously failing miserably.

What he was surprised to see, however, was a very large cardboard box huddled in both of Logan’s arms. ‘What’s in the box, specs?’

Logan and Patton looked at each other with unreadable expressions, then turned back to Roman and spoke simultaneously:

‘Stationery.’

‘What box?’

The two looked back at each other with wide eyes. Roman frowned, mind reeling with what two people in a new relationship could possibly buy together, have delivered in discreet packaging, and not want to tell - actually yeah, he didn’t want to think about that.

‘Well, that was disturbing.’ Roman cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact as he hurried past them. ‘Forget I asked,’ he called back.

He had no time to worry about their stumbled defences. His sewing machine awaited!

oOo

Later that afternoon, Logan readjusted his position on the couch and crossed his legs with a sigh. He was feeling unusually restless.

Patton and he had efficiently hidden their package some hours previously, thankful that Virgil did not witness their secrecy. It was all for his benefit, though the anxious side could be suspicious at the best of times. They could not afford for his defences to be raised any higher than they were already bound to be for the conversation they had planned.

As Logan waited, he breathed evenly, hoping to dispel his nerves before the other two joined him. Patton had left the room a minute previously to fetch Virgil for the chat.

There was no use in feeling nervous about it, Logan knew. It was only a conversation and truly there was nothing threatening about that. Still, the idea that Virgil could be upset by it disturbed Logan somewhat. He could not predict how the regressor would react to what they had to say. Though, as he so often said to Virgil, unpredictability should not be cause for worry. He took a steadying breath and uncrossed his legs.

Within a few moments, the door to the living room eased open and Patton stepped into the room with a quick nervous smile at Logan. After he had entered, Virgil shuffled in behind him, scratching at his hoodie sleeves and chewing his lip. Logan crossed his legs again.

‘Virgil, have a seat,’ Logan said gently, indicating the spot beside him on the couch. Patton had settled in the armchair.

Virgil’s eyes darted between both of them and the seat in quick succession.

‘You are not in trouble,’ Logan said, hoping that his smile was reassuring.

With a shaky sigh, Virgil perched on the end of the couch. He had sat as far from Logan as he possibly could.

‘Patton said you, uh, you wanted to talk about something?’ Virgil muttered.

‘Yes,’ Logan said. He internally made a note to talk to Patton about open-ended requests and how they could exacerbate Virgil’s anxiety, though pushed the matter aside for now. He carefully angled his body toward Virgil, trying to use more engaging body language as he could sense Virgil might try to close himself off. ‘We need to talk about your recent bathroom issues.’

As predicted, Virgil wrapped his arms tightly around himself and sunk further into the couch. Though he didn’t try to leave (for which Logan was grateful). ‘Oh.’

‘You are aware that Patton spoke to me about you two’s discussion, are you not?’

The question was met with a slight nod from Virgil. Logan did not miss the tremble in his fingers which clawed at his hoodie sleeves.

‘Virgil, I’d like to remind you that neither Patton nor I are in any way angry or disappointed with you,’ Logan said, knowing that Virgil’s anxiety must have been wreaking havoc in his mind.

‘Absolutely not,’ Patton agreed fervently. ‘We love you so much, Stormcloud. This doesn’t change that.’

‘Okay.’ Virgil did not meet either of their gazes. ‘Can I leave now?’

Logan sighed, knowing the conversation was bound to be difficult given Virgil’s attitude. ‘That wasn’t what we wanted to talk about.’

Virgil slumped in defeat.

‘I told Logan about everything you said to me yesterday,’ Patton started gently, ‘and we think we might have a solution to -’

‘You can fix it?’ Virgil asked, finally raising his gaze from his lap to look at Logan pleadingly.

Guilt flooded the logical side. It was not often Virgil felt hopeful about anything. In fact, Logan and the others had been trying to convince him to accept more optimism into his thought process, though unfortunately in this situation it had to be shot down.

‘Not exactly.’ At the look of hurt in Virgil’s eyes, Logan had to contain a wince. ‘You cannot always fix something,’ he explained. ‘Sometimes, the situation is unavoidable and the only option is to adapt.’

‘Adapt?’ Virgil echoed uncertainly.

Logan’s eyes inched over to Patton. They had agreed it might be more agreeable for Virgil to hear the suggestion from his lips.

‘Sweetheart,’ Patton said gently, ‘how would you feel if whenever you regressed you wore a diaper?’

‘No!’ Virgil immediately yelled, his voice cracking.

Logan shared a quick, bewildered look with Patton.

‘No, no, no, no, no,’ Virgil rambled frantically, his hands fisting in the cushion beneath him. Logan was shocked by the abject horror on the younger side’s face. ‘No, I can’t! I can’t, no, no -’

‘Honey, honey, stop. It’s all right,’ Patton hurried to soothe him, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘It’s completely okay if you don’t want to wear one.’

Patton was correct. It would have been completely acceptable had Virgil not wanted to try diapers. But - Logan noted with curiosity - Virgil had not said he didn’t want to. He had said he can’t. The small slip-up suggested that (even if only on a subconscious level) Virgil perceived the concept as unattainable, as opposed to undesirable. Logan felt an obligation to investigate further.

‘Why?’ he asked simply.

‘Logan,’ Patton whispered sharply, sending him a reprimanding look.

‘I won’t have any more accidents, I promise!’

Both caregivers looked back at Virgil in surprise.

‘Virgil,’ Logan said carefully, wary of the panic in Virgil’s eyes, ‘we understand that you do not do it on purpose, hence the term “accident”. We all know now that when you are regressed you cannot control it. Now I am sorry, but you simply cannot keep that promise.’

Virgil squirmed in place, his whole posture tense and alert. ‘Th-then I won’t regress anymore.’

Patton gasped, and Logan could hardly blame him. Though Logan had been prepared for Virgil to turn down the idea, the intensity of his reaction was entirely unforeseen.

‘Why would you say that, Virgil?’ Patton whispered, sounding heartbroken.

Virgil was trembling. He clearly had no answer. Though Logan was not convinced he would be able to reply even if he did have one.

‘Your regression is not voluntary.’ Logan spoke in a calm, low voice. ‘You have no say in whether it happens or not. You yourself told us this.’ He frowned in confusion. Virgil’s reaction was so fraught that it seemed to be inflicting his capacity for rational thinking.

To his vague relief, Virgil did appear to have gotten through the worst of his panic, though he still glanced between Patton and Logan nervously. ‘I can hide in my room,’ he suggested shakily. ‘I won’t bother you anymore, I’m sorry for burdening you, I -’

‘Stop,’ Logan said firmly. He could not bear to listen to the anxiety-driven drivel any longer. ‘I want you to take a deep breath.’

Virgil did just that, and the result was instantaneous. As he exhaled, his shoulders dropped from his neck and his hands eased their grip on the couch.

‘Good, keep going,’ Logan murmured, sharing a concerned look with Patton as Virgil took another shaky breath. When Logan had deemed it safe to do so, he continued.

‘We do not want you to hide in your room,’ he said clearly, being cautious to keep his tone gentle. ‘You do not need to hide your regression from us. You are not a burden.’

Virgil bit his lip but did not protest.

‘You could never be a burden,’ Patton said softly. By the jitteriness of his fingertips, Logan could tell that Patton was eager to reach out and hold Virgil, though he held back. ‘Please don’t hide this part of yourself again, sweetheart. You don’t need to.’

Even as his silence persisted, Virgil gave a stiff nod.

Now that Virgil had calmed down, for the most part, Logan launched into his investigation.

‘Could you perhaps explain why you are so adamantly against the idea of using diapers?’ It was met with bewildered looks of varying intensity from both of the others, so Logan elaborated, ‘In no circumstance would we ever force you into doing something against your will. That is not my intention for this conversation. I would merely like to examine your thought process surrounding the concept.’

Virgil looked imploringly to Patton, though was only met with an apologetic smile and nod.

‘Virgil,’ Logan called softly and was hurt to see the look of betrayal that turned onto him. ‘Please.’

He insisted on holding Virgil’s gaze until the younger side looked away with a sigh.

‘I just…’ Virgil pulled his knees up to his chest in a defensive pose. ‘It’s just weird,’ he mumbled.

Good, they could at least get somewhere with that.

‘Sweetie, it’s not -’

Logan held his hand up, silencing Patton. Though the reassurance was well-intended, Logan believed that simply disparaging Virgil’s views would be ineffective. They had to address the root cause of the issue.

‘And why is it weird?’ Logan prompted.

Virgil’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Logan with wide eyes, apparently (unreasonably) taken aback by the simple question.

‘I-I dunno,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Adults shouldn’t need -’

‘Some adults require incontinence products.’ Logan nipped that train of thought in the bud right away. ‘It is beyond their control, and yet you would call it weird?’

‘N-no!’ Virgil hurriedly defended. ‘No, of course not. That’s not - I meant I shouldn’t need… those.’

Logan muffled the growing satisfaction in his chest as they inched closer to the crux of the problem. ‘And why is it weird for you specifically and not those other adults?’

Virgil’s arms squeezed around his legs, pulling them tighter against his chest. ‘Because it’s, um, not a medical issue?’ he asked quietly, seeming more uncertain of his own argument with each passing second.

‘That is unimportant,’ Logan said. ‘Regardless of the cause, you are still unable to control your bladder on occasion.’

The tension in Virgil’s posture was painfully visible, as was the growing flush to his cheeks.

‘So, I will ask you again.’ Logan scooted himself slightly closer to Virgil on the couch, hoping that the closeness would bring Virgil some kind of comfort. He did not move away. ‘Why would it be weird for you to wear diapers if it is not weird for anyone else to do the same?’

Virgil blinked quickly and opened his mouth. Then he shut it, blinked, looked to his knees, opened his mouth, and shut it again. After a repeat of this cycle, he groaned quietly and buried his face against his knees.

‘You cannot think of an answer because it is an incorrect statement,’ Logan said. Looking at Virgil’s hunched form, he realised that being proven right was not nearly as satisfactory when it caused such distress to someone he loved. ‘I can assure you that your worries surrounding this matter are unfounded.’

‘He’s right, Virgil,’ Patton added. ‘You don’t need to be embarrassed about this, it’s all right.’

Virgil shook his head, though his face was still concealed by his knees. ‘Is not.’

‘It is,’ Logan insisted. ‘Your mental state regresses to that of a toddler’s, so why should we expect every aspect of your physical state to be any different? A toddler cannot be expected to have such a high command over their body.’

‘But I should,’ Virgil argued weakly into his jeans.

‘Not when you’re regressed, sweetheart,’ Patton said. ‘You’re just a baby, you can’t -’

‘I’m not a baby, I’m a pervert!’ Virgil shouted, his head snapping up from his knees fiercely.

Logan’s breath rushed from his lungs, his stomach lurching at such intense self-deprecation coming from the person he had come to see as his child.

‘Stormcloud…’ Patton whispered, sounding close to tears.

Virgil beat him to it. His “sweater paws” (that had been a highly useful vocab card) scrubbed harshly at the tears that fell to his cheeks. The image made Logan’s heart sink.

‘I’m a freak,’ Virgil mumbled into his sleeve. ‘I’m just gross and messed up and attention-seeking and…’ His voice had become squeaky and broken before he trailed off.

‘Baby, no, no, no,’ Patton cooed sadly and rushed to his side at break-neck speed. Squeezing in to sit between the regressor and the armrest, Patton wrapped his arm around Virgil’s shoulders and pulled him to lean against his side. ‘Virgil, honey, none of that is true. None of it.’

Virgil sniffled as Patton kissed his head.

Following Patton’s lead, Logan closed the distance between them on the couch. He placed one hand on Virgil’s knee and squeezed while his other settled on Patton’s forearm gently.

‘Please understand that there is absolutely nothing wrong with your regression or with how your body reacts to it,’ Logan pleaded, feeling strangely helpless. He had been so certain that Virgil knew his regression was valid. What had changed to make him spout this nonsense? ‘As you have informed us and as I have ascertained from my own research, age regression is by its very nature entirely non-sexual.’

Virgil nodded against Patton’s shoulder.

‘It is and always has been a natural state for you,’ Logan went on, sure that Virgil was aware of this already.

As suspected, Virgil nodded again.

Logan frowned. Where could this all have been coming from? ‘And you are aware that it is highly beneficial to your emotional wellbeing.’

‘Yeah,’ Virgil said, his voice wet and choked.

‘And you enjoy it!’ Patton said, injecting joy into his words. Logan saw how his arms tightened around Virgil’s form. ‘That’s as good a reason as any.’

Once more, Virgil nodded.

Logan considered why Virgil might have had such a sudden change of heart towards his view of age regression. It was, of course, possible that he had simply kept these views hidden up until that moment, though they had addressed his insecurities surrounding the matter on multiple occasions over the past three months. With a heavy heart, Logan realised that if these opinions had not originated from Virgil himself, they had to have originated elsewhere and been figuratively drilled into him.

‘Who called you those words, Virgil?’ Logan asked delicately.

Virgil angled his head further into Patton’s shoulder in avoidance.

It was an unusual experience, watching the realisation dawn on Patton’s face. His eyes lost their joyful sparkle and his concerned expression melted into one of pure indignation and - most uncharacteristically - rage. The moral side pushed gently at Virgil’s shoulders, getting him to sit upright to reveal his face.

‘Who was it?’ Patton asked, his voice shaking with what Logan suspected was carefully concealed anger.

Virgil hunched in his seat and met Logan’s eyes for a split second before hurriedly looking down at his knees. ‘No one.’

‘Falsehood,’ Logan said sternly. He did not want to make Virgil anxious at all by prying, but he could not afford for this topic of conversation to be shrugged off so easily. ‘Who was it?’

With a deep, shaky sigh, Virgil rested his chin on his knees and muttered, ‘I mean no one I know.’

Patton sent a confused look to Logan over the head of purple hair.

‘Could you please elaborate?’ Logan asked.

A moment of silence passed, and just as Logan was preparing to ask again, Virgil inhaled sharply, paused, and then spoke.

‘A couple weeks ago I made a Tumblr post about my regression.’ Virgil’s voice was quiet enough that Logan had to strain to hear it. ‘About how I wasn’t ashamed of it anymore and - and about you guys,’ Virgil said. He tugged at a strand of his hair harshly.

Logan reached out and smoothed his fingers over Virgil’s hand, convincing him to release the hair. Their hands both dropped to the couch cushion, remaining joined at Logan’s insistence. He understood where the conversation was heading. ‘I am aware that there is an anonymous question function on Tumblr.’

Virgil’s fingers twitched against Logan’s palm. ‘S-someone kept sending asks saying it was just a… a fetish and telling me I was sick and weird and -’ he cut off with an audible gulp, ‘and a bunch of other stuff.’

‘They’re wrong,’ Patton stated without room for argument. Logan saw the muscle in his jaw jumping. ‘They - I can’t believe someone would -’ His voice was incredibly strained and it strangled his words so much that Patton seemed to almost gag over them. He blew out a harsh breath, the sound something akin to a hiss. ‘This is ridiculous.’

Patton was shaking with the effort to contain his reaction and looked about ready to burst. Glancing down, Logan realised with a hint of concern that Virgil was looking at Patton in surprise and, unfortunately, appeared to be nervous.

‘Patton,’ Logan said, ‘I want you to take a moment to -’

‘No, Logan!’ Patton whispered harshly, red in the face. He snatched his arm off from Virgil then clenched his fists in his lap. ‘They’re bullies. Horrible, mean, cruel bullies. I just don’t understand why!’ he broke into a shout. Virgil flinched and leaned into Logan’s side. ‘Why the hell would someone want to - I mean, how could - To our baby!’

Logan was in full agreement to everything that Patton was saying (even if most of it had to be read between the lines since he seemed so enraged that he could hardly get a full sentence out). But - Logan noted, seeing that Virgil was staring at his lap in shame - this was neither the time nor the place to display aggression.

‘Patton,’ Logan said more firmly, ‘I understand you are angry, but please be wary of the sensitivity of this situation. I am sure Virgil would appreciate calm right now.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Virgil sounded feeble at best.

‘Angry?’ Patton repeated incredulously, actually looking at Logan in shock. ‘I - I’m not angry, I’m just…’ He went silent, the fire dissipating from his eyes and being replaced by uncertainty. Then he whispered, all heat faded from his tone, ‘I’m not angry.’

Logan nodded slowly. It was evident Patton was having trouble identifying his negative emotions, though Logan did not feel it right to divert the purpose of the conversation. He would have to delay the talk with Patton until after they had resolved Virgil’s issue, especially since he suspected Virgil would not open up so readily a second time.

‘Now, Virgil,’ Logan said. He looked at Patton pointedly, conveying that they had to get back to the task at hand. Patton nodded, the tension finally dispelling from his form. ‘These strangers online do not see how this coping mechanism helps you.’ Logan squeezed the younger side’s fingers slightly, earning his attention through a hesitant glance. ‘Their opinions are uninformed and therefore worthless.’

‘I’m sorry, sweetie,’ Patton breathed. He was curled into himself slightly, clearly embarrassed by his loss of control. ‘I didn’t mean to - these people are clearly very damaged,’ he said the word as if it were a substitute for harsher language, ‘and, for whatever reason, they only wanted to hurt you.’ He cautiously wrapped his arm back around Virgil’s shoulders. ‘Those kinds of people don’t have any authority over you or your regression.’

‘I guess not,’ Virgil said. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, melting into Patton’s touch.

Logan sighed in faint relief, glad that Virgil no longer seemed intimidated by Patton’s outburst. ‘It is a futile task in pandering to these idiots’ prejudices. Your regression makes you happy and so it is indisputably perfect.’

The words earned him a soft smile from Virgil and Logan felt his own expression soften at the sight.

‘Thank you,’ Virgil said with finality.

‘Though,’ Logan started, something still eating away at him, ‘it remains unclear how these bullies made you feel bad about needing diapers specifically.’

Virgil bit his lip, then looked back at the floor. ‘I - I wanted to try them a while ago,’ he whispered.

From the look on Patton’s face, it seemed Logan was not alone in his surprise.

‘It was just so scary whenever I had an accident!’ Virgil quickly defended. ‘I - I didn’t know what else to do. I was stupid and -’

‘Try again,’ Patton interrupted with a squeeze on Virgil’s shoulder.

‘I was dumb and -’

‘Again.’

‘I… was uninformed and didn’t know how to buy them. So I made a post asking for advice.’ Virgil rushed through the words as if wanting them to be over as soon as possible. ‘Then there was a bunch of asks saying it was disgusting and pathetic and hilarious and -’

‘Imbeciles,’ Logan growled loudly, though took a steadying breath and left it at that. He would absolutely be having a chat with Patton later so they could release their frustrations in private, away from Virgil.

‘None of that is true,’ Patton said softly. ‘Do you remember what Logan said about toddlers not being expected to have such a high level of bodily control?’

Virgil nodded.

‘You aren’t aware of yourself when you’re regressed, so you have to trust us when we tell you that when you’re in that headspace you really are a toddler.’ Patton said it slowly and deliberately, not giving Virgil a chance to dispute the words.

Virgil looked up at Logan, seeking confirmation.

‘It was astonishing to experience at first,’ Logan said, ‘but I cannot deny it. It truly is remarkable. And wonderful,’ he added truthfully.

Patton nodded enthusiastically and guided Virgil’s head to look back at him with gentle fingers. ‘As surprising as it was, we can tell it’s very real and natural.’ Patton kissed Virgil’s head. ‘There is absolutely nothing about your regression or your body that’s wrong in any way. Do you understand that now?’

Virgil stalled for a few seconds, though when he finally spoke, Logan could hear it was sincere. ‘Yeah. I think so.’

‘And I’m so proud of you for trying to help yourself, honey.’ Patton pulled Virgil into a tighter hug. ‘I’m sorry we weren’t there to look after you back then.’

‘But you are now… right?’ Virgil pulled away from Patton and peered shyly between both of them.

‘Of course we are,’ Patton replied instantly.

Logan felt a swell of pride and love overtake him. ‘We always will be.’

Virgil hid a smile behind his sweater paw.

‘Kiddo… can you maybe turn off the anonymous option on your blog?’ Patton asked hesitantly, reaching out to card his fingers through the length of Virgil’s hair. ‘I don’t wanna control what you do but it really worries me that these strangers could make you feel so bad about yourself.’

‘Already did,’ Virgil mumbled.

Logan saw that the tip of Virgil’s thumb had found its way to his lips. He was not surprised that Virgil appeared to be slipping into his regression; it had been a distressing conversation for him.

‘Clever boy,’ Patton praised, lightly pinching Virgil’s cheek. He must have noticed the slip too.

A shy smile wormed its way onto Virgil’s features.

Patton gasped dramatically. ‘Oh my, there’s suddenly an adorable baby in the room! Where did he come from?’

The thumb that had rested on Virgil’s lips now pressed between them. Logan recognised the light blush on Virgil’s cheeks as indicative of his impending infantile headspace.

‘Before you regress completely,’ Logan said quickly, wanting to be concise lest he miss the remaining moments of Virgil’s adult mindset. ‘Will you please reconsider our suggestion? We have already purchased some diapers for you as a precautionary measure and I think it will be a good idea for you to wear one today.’

‘I think so too, sweetheart,’ Patton added softly. ‘Just to see how it feels.’

Virgil hummed, though it might have been a muffled whimper.

‘There is no pressure to agree at all. Similarly, if you do attempt it but dislike it then there is no need to continue.’ Logan hoped to reassure any of Virgil’s doubts that might have been inhibiting what was clearly curiosity, perhaps even desire. ‘Though I believe it will at the very least be worth a try.’

Virgil genuinely seemed to consider it.

‘Remember, we’re only doing this to help you feel safe, Stormcloud,’ Patton whispered, running his knuckle against Virgil’s cheek.

Logan gently took hold of Virgil’s hand and eased it away from his mouth so that his thumb left his lips. Virgil pouted at him, though Logan ignored it in favour of asking, ‘What would you like to do, Virgil?’

To Logan’s astonishment, he nodded.

‘Try,’ Virgil said, his voice babyish and muted.

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link | Next chapter

NOTE: Massive thanks to my friend Duckie for reading over the first draft of this chapter, giving me notes and cheering me on, it wouldn’t be the same without her! You can find her adorable age dreaming tumblr here: @duckies-little-pond 🐣💛

#agere virgil #little virgil #little roman #ts agere #sanders sides agere #cg patton #cg logan #little/big series #little/big series fics #little accidents big developments #agedre roman

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jaybug-jabbers · 4 years ago

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Pokemon Uranium Review

So! I finally completed this game. (have not done post-game yet) I started it ages ago, and then took breaks from it for a very long time. In fact, I almost gave up completely on the game out of irritation. It absolutely has a lot going for it and some awesome strengths, which is why I returned to it and finished it. But it also has some big downsides, and I’ll go into both here.

(Note: expect mild spoilers, especially during plot discussion. I tried to be very spoiler-light though!)

Prelude - DMCA Takedowns

This fan game was in development for quite a long time (about nine years), and is probably best known for having the dubious distinction of being one of the few pokemon fan games targeted specifically and pressured to stop distribution. This is because it suddenly gained a ton of public awareness when it was nominated in the 2016 Game Awards for ‘Best Fan Creation.’ The devs received DMCA takedown notice letters from lawyers soon after. Another pokemon fan game with a large development period has recently met with a similar fate, Pokemon Prism, also in response to a sudden spike in public visibility. Obviously the lesson to take away from all of this is that fan games need to be careful about staying out of the spotlight. The larger and more popular a fan game gets, of course, the harder it is to do that, but hopefully future projects can avoid meeting this unfortunate fate. In the meantime, these “banned” games are still distributed by other players on the down-low.

The discussion of how Nintendo and Game Freak relate to their fan community, the legal details of where fan games fall under, whether or not the owners of the IP “must” legally crack down on fan creations or not when they notice them, and other such details are really matters for another post. For now, let’s just say that I hope in the future, Nintendo alters its stance and learns to relate better to its fans. Fan creations are an expression of creativity and love for the franchise, and the ‘corporate overlords’ would be wise to encourage it, not stifle it, and follow the example of other companies who relate better with their fans and with the creative fan community.

Ok. On with the review.

Introduction

This game takes place in Tandor, an all-new region, and features 150 fakemon, including new evolutions of real pokemon. It boasts some neat modern features like Mega Evolution, and when it first released had fully supported and functional online components, where you could trade and battle with fellow players and even receive Mystery Gifts. The maps and region are very extensive, there is much to explore, and there is a long and very well-developed plot. The game itself is not a ROM hack, but rather, was made with RPG Maker. Your task is to travel the region of Tandor, with your rival tagging along, not merely collecting badges but unravelling a gradually dawning mystery involving strange-looking pokemon and accidents that keep occurring at local nuclear power plants.

UI & Polish

I am not very familiar with the details of hacking pokemon games, but I do believe the main reason the devs chose RPG maker was because it gave them greater control/flexibility over their programming. And that’s quite understandable. But there are a few issues that I think are a result of this. The game itself has a very big lag issue. Even on high-powered machines, pretty heavy lag is very common. However, keep in mind that I played with version 1.0, the first release, for the majority of my gameplay. I believe there are a few patches that help increase performance in that area.

I suspect the reason some of the ‘feel’ of the UI as being a bit ‘off’ is also due, in part, to RPG Maker’s constraints or behavior. The UI is organized a little oddly, the main menu bar scrolling vertically on the top of the screen, the battle screen also scrolling vertically through the four moves. The whole thing feels very squashed at times and not the most efficient use of space, and it’s not easy to see what moves you have or quickly see all the options in the menu. It’s just kind of clunky and awkward to me. Another thing that stuck out for me was the period of time for certain actions. I know this is weird, but when you choose to attack, it almost happens too fast. There’s zero delay when you choose an attack and the battle animations are typically very speedy and with little fanfare. Indeed, the battle animations in general tend to be incredibly simple to the point of barely even being present, not visually appealing, and with very quiet, uninteresting or odd sound-effects. They lack any sort of feeling of ‘punch’ to them. I also notice when you save the game, it seems to occur instantly, when in the pokemon games, it always has a slight delay. Why the heck should this bother me? Isn’t fast saving BETTER? Well yes, haha, in theory, but oddly enough it added to the rushed feel of things. Healing at the pokecenter, too, happens incredibly fast. Normally there is a pretty lengthy delay in pokemon games.

I realize plenty of folks would love faster battle animations and saving and healing and would consider me crazy for noting it! They just want to get on with the playing! But I feel like pokemon is about the adventure, not the destination. You’re supposed to dwell a little. You’re supposed to feel the battles, feel the punch. And the delay for that healing? Well, folks have pointed out that it’s there for a reason, as annoying as it can be to wait sometimes. It’s the price for a free heal. It’s already pretty darn overpowered you get infinite free heals in this game pretty much whenever you want, so they made that teeny little price to pay for doing so. And, honestly, that way, it feels like something is actually being done. But with Uranium, things were so fast, it kind of felt like you weren’t really experiencing things. Is that weird of me to say? I dunno. But it’s the sense I got from it. And to me, that helps to make it feel a bit ‘off.’ It’s a subtle thing, I admit.

That said, there are tons of added features to the game that make for great polish and are very welcome options. There are multiple save slots, which is only a good thing in my mind, and I’m sure using RPG Maker rather than a ROM hack made this a possibility. There are independent volume controls for music and sound effects, which is fantastic when you’re grinding and want to listen to your own music. You can toggle perma-run mode on and off which is super nice. There’s even a Nuzlocke Mode built into the game! If the game didn’t have a ridiculously steep level curve, I would totally use the Nuzlocke Mode, but as the game stands now, I doubt I ever will. But dang, it’s an awesome idea, so props for that! Even the way you get your starter is a unique and cool idea– you take a mini-personality quiz and the professor matches you with a pokemon that best suits your playstyle. Finally, the choice of the player character is super neat because instead of the usual ‘r u a boy or r u a girl’ question, you have three characters to choose from, one of them being nonbinary. (all the characters throughout the game refer to you with gender-neutral pronouns if you make that choice) I thought that was a really nice touch. I ended up choosing them as my player character (at the time just b/c I thought they looked the coolest).

Maps

The locations in this game are top-notch. The towns are awesome; they’re laid out nicely, have good intuitive design, lots of detail, contain tons of interesting NPCs, and have lots of little touches. The tiles are lovely. Many of the towns are memorable and unique, and it really gives a sense of exploration. Also, the place is BIG! There is a ton in the main area and even more to see in East Tandor. You aren’t going to get bored in this respect, and it’s one of the biggest strengths of this game.

Music

Uranium contains a mix of pre-existing pokemon tracks and original music. While I do dislike a few of the original tracks, I love the majority. I admit some of the tracks feel somewhat ‘out of place’ in a pokemon game. It’s not that they’re bad or anything, they just don’t quite feel like they belong in a pokemon game. I realize that’s a very subjective sort of judgment, but there ya go. That said, it’s no big deal. Some of the final parts of the game have truly epic music, and it makes it all worthwhile.

Fakemon

Ok, so. This is a big section to discuss. The game contains a TON (150) of fakemon. I know some folks who play pokemon fan games don’t like fakemon. I, however, am quite happy with them, and in fact prefer them when they’re done well. Of course, doing fakemon well can be a tricky thing. Let’s take a look at how the fakemon fare in this game.

Designs

As professional and polished as the tiles and the locations are in this game, the spritework for the pokemon is a little inconsistent. Some of the sprites look great, while others look as though they could still use some work. This is unfortunate, because I suspect some of the fakemon that were really cool in concept suffered a little in execution. For example, the Frynai evolution line have a cool concept behind them, but I didn’t really care for how the sprites were actually made.

Other fakemon, errr, well, I didn’t really care for in both concept and execution:

There were also fakemon that looked okay but really felt “out of place” to me in the pokemon universe. I know that’s a pretty subjective thing, but I do think that pokemon has developed a pretty distinct style by now. It may be hard to pin down exactly what that style is, but fakemon like Owten (a cat with bird wings pasted onto it) look very cute but don’t really feel like pokemon to me.

Or, take this fish for example:

This is a fish with a humanlike brain pasted onto its face, and it just feels wildly out of place to me. Instead of animals with random body parts of other animals pasted onto them, I’m looking for a more cohesive design.

Because I felt very ‘meh’ towards a large number of species in this game, choosing team members was based more on “ok, what actually looks cool to me?” than on anything else. But then, that’s the joy of having such a wide range of species to choose from; odds are, there’s something for everyone. Take a look at my starter, for example:

Metalynx here is an example of one of the Uranium fakemon I think is very well-designed. I admit I feel a tad iffy about the random floral pattern on its back (seems to me it’s best to continue the leg/tail stripes throughout the body), but other than that, it’s a cool design and suits Pokemon well. The spritework is very nice, too. You can see the whole design feels way more cohesive and well thought-out than simply pasting random body parts onto an animal.

Names

Another issue I sometimes had with the fakemon were the names. You might think this is nitpicking, but I would argue names are actually very important. Pokemon follow a very clear tradition for their names, relying on portmanteaus, onomatopoeia and puns a lot of the time, or adding specific prefixes or suffixes to words.

The thing is, you can’t blindly follow this structure. You need to exercise a fair bit of judgment. The actual sounds the pokemon name makes is important. In this game, for example, there is a Ground/Dragon named “Terlard.” To be honest, it sort of sounds like a mix between “turd” and “lard,” which obviously isn’t an appealing image. It’s actually supposed to be a cross between “terra” and “lizard.” But, well, I feel like a better-sounding cross could be made rather easily. “Terrazard” sounds far better to me. If that’s too close to Charizard, maybe drop the word “lizard” and go for “snake” or “serpent” as a base word.

Other names sounded okay to me but they really don’t roll off the tongue; ‘Tofurang,’ ‘Fortog,’ ‘Eshouten.’ I feel like pokemon names that are easy and fun to say are the best ones.

But, again, with so many fakemon, of course I was bound to find some I didn’t like as much. There were also fakemon names I thought were really strong! ‘Tancoon,’ for example, is a great pokemon name. ‘Jerbolta’ is actually perfect, and one of my favorite fakemon names, period.

Cries

There are a bunch of fakemon in this game with original cries, which is cool, but the actual cries themselves often felt underwhelming to me. There also seemed to be an odd issue with the volume level, because most of the cries felt really quiet to me. However, creating original cries is no doubt very complex work. I commend anyone for even making any sort of effort at it.

There were also a lot of fakemon that borrowed cries from real pokemon. This is perfectly understandable and plenty of fan games do this; as I said, making original cries for so many pokes has got to be terribly demanding. It did lead to an unfortunate feeling that things were a bit mismatched, with some fakemon having original cries and others having borrowed cries. But overall, that’s a rather minor concern.

Conclusion

I have been pretty harsh in this section about the fakemon of this game. All of that said, I really do appreciate how ambitious it is to make 150 all-new pokemon in a game. That is a TON. I’m sure it’s a remarkable amount of work. I applaud the effort and creativity that went into it, and I certainly don’t claim I can make something better than the Uranium team did. Even if the spritework was occasionally a little wonky, and some of the designs were a miss for me, they’re all far better than my own skills could produce. I also want to reiterate there are fakemon in this game I really liked! So, seriously, even though I consider the fakemon designs and sprites to be one of the biggest weaknesses in this game, if you disagree with me, that’s totally fine. Everyone has their own tastes, and if you love these fakemon, more power to you. :)

Level Curve and Stats Balance

Ok, here we go. This is my biggest gripe of the whole game, and the reason I nearly quit it multiple times. The level curve in this game is poorly done, in my opinion. There is a difference between “challenging” and “ridiculous.” In order to even have a chance at fighting normal, ordinary, run-of-the-mill trainers, I had to grind. For. EVER. Part of why the grinding takes so long is because the wild pokemon levels are so low, they just don’t provide adequate EXP, and the trainers are relatively sparse in this game. So I cannot begin to tell you– actually, you know what? Yes I can. Here:

That is how much time I’ve put into completing this game. Almost 80 hours. I can assure you the vast majority of that was spent grinding. (this isn’t a ROM hack so no Gameshark, either)

I get that one of Uranium’s goals was to make a more challenging game for fans, because Pokemon has traditionally been too easy for its older players. That’s a fine goal. But I don’t think they achieve that here. The level curve should be designed so you don’t even need to grind extra levels. Instead, playing this game ended up being a miserble, boring chore the vast majority of the time, because most of it was grinding forever in the grass. I am not a super-competitive, extra-amazing skilled Pokemon player. But I am not utterly atrocious at pokemon, either– I’ve played it and fan games all my life. So I don’t think it was simply that I sucked at the game.

Sure, I could have split the EXP points fewer ways (and just had 1 or 2 overpowered ‘mons) or carefully selected the most OP fakemon I came across (I did not, because I chose based on whether I liked the designs or not). But I think at the end of the day, this game just requires a lot of boring grinding, and that sucks. It really holds it back, because it would be a truly fantastic game if not for this problem.

I suspect another issue is poor stats balance for a lot of the fakemon. This could explain some of the need for so much grinding. Of course, in pokemon, these creatures come in all shapes, sizes, and all ranges of statistics. Some have better stats than others. It’s just a fact. But I suspect the stats balancing in this game still isn’t done very well for a ton of the species. I say this because my team-members tended to drop like flies even when they were at levels equalling my opponents. Yes, I am aware of basic concepts like special and physical defense. I am not saying a pokemon weak in physical defense died at a physical hit and I was shocked at that. I’m talking about pokemon going down regardless. However, I didn’t spend much time researching it, comparing all the numbers, so I can’t confirm that suspicion at the moment. But I suspect there probably were a fair number of fakemon either excessively overpowered or excessively low-tier.

Writing

And here we have what is easily the biggest strength of the game. Oh my goodness, you guys, the writing is so good. This is the reason why, no matter how frustrating and boring the grinding got, I eventually came back. I had to see how the story ended. Traditionally, the plot has been one of the biggest flaws of official Pokemon games. In fact, I’d say the story in official games tends to be pretty lousy, with a couple of rare exceptions. But, guys! Uranium has story! And it’s GOOOOOOD!

Not only is the plot deep and interesting, but the dialogue is excellent as well. I know plot is not a priority for some people when it comes to pokemon games, but to me, it makes an enormous difference. I love a good story, and to me, it seems like a no-brainer that an RPG should have a good plot.

I really don’t want to say too much about the actual story, because of spoilers and such. But in a nutshell, it focuses on a series of accidents at nuclear power plants. The local pokemon end up being exposed to the radiation and they turn vicious and savage. There is a focus on Pokemon Rangers, who act as local law enforcement in addition to environmental protection (well, very much akin to actual park rangers in real life), and it’s well-developed and so well-done. Your estranged father works as the work-obsessed head bossman dude of these Rangers and you eventually help them out as they try to deal with irradiated wild pokemon and solve the mysterious accidents at the power plants. It’s ridiculously spooky and exciting and fun wandering around exploring the old broken-down nuclear power plants and taking on the crazy pokes, which look all glowy and cool and have special nuclear-type moves:

In addition to this great main plot, your rival is perhaps for the first time ever an interesting character. He is so well-written and you see actual growth and change in his character over time– growth and change that is gradual and believeable, and not just the 180 that villians in pokemon tend to do at the last second (I am evil evil evil hahaha oh gosh the way you treat your pokemon has made me realize I was wrong I shall now repent The End). The lad starts off as an annoying kid that reminds you very much of a younger sibling that tags along with you everywhere you go that you just wish you could ditch. By the end of it, by God, you actually LIKE him, and watch him mature and grow, and damnit, I feel actual FONDNESS for him? Is this what actual characterization feels like?!

And there’s even MORE. I’ve hardly scratched the surface. There are side-quests and subplots and everywhere you look, there is rich dialogue from NPCs adding to the depth and complexity of the world. Gyms have folks who are actually interesting, the region has its own legendary pokemon, and there are even ninjas vs. pirates in this game, for pete’s sake.

Despite the relatively dark nature of the subject matter– nuclear meltdowns, irradiated pokemon, my mother having vanished and presumed dead from one of these accidents, my grieving father having abandoned me at a young age to let my elderly aunt care for me, etc. etc.– it was still kept nicely within the realm of Pokemon. It didn’t get too dark or feel out-of-place. And that’s really cool, and a major accomplishment. Even when major character’s lives were in grave jeopardy in a way official Pokemon games wouldn’t dare to do, it felt like it fitted Pokemon games just fine. That’s awesome. Even Pokemon Prism didn’t do this. Prism often felt too adult and grim and gritty to be a real Pokemon game, despite all its strengths.

The very endgame– specifically, the identity of CURIE– was admittedly predictable, and something I had guessed waaaaaay long before it happened. That said, it was still very enjoyable. I also noticed that it is possible to get a “bad ending” in this game (which I kinda got the first time eh heh heh *cough*), which I think is super cool! Admittedly, the foe in the final fight in the game is … well … a bit OP. By about a thousand billion times. (which is why I got the bad ending first :P) But, there was also a certain charm to it, and I think the whole point was the ridiculous hyperbolic stupid OPness of it. It made you feel like you were truly hopeless, which a Pokemon game never does. And that was interesting. Honestly, for a short time, I wondered if it was simply a scripted loss, where a scenario was intentionally designed for it to be literally impossible for the player to win.

There was one little point at the end that was very unsatisfying, when my rival declines to fight me and instead forfeits the Championship to me. It’s not so much the “look, what you just did, saving the world n’ junk, that kinda already proves your worth” bit that bothers me, it’s just … ehh the way it was handled, I guess? It just felt like when I was congratulated for being the Champion, it felt fake. I wasn’t the Champion. I wanted to have my final rival fight, damnit. I was really looking forward to it. I guess that’s my biggest complaint about the storyline. I did love the idea behind the Championship itself, though– not Elite 4 but rather, facing a series of trainers through semifinals and finals etc. Honestly, that way makes a ton of sense and is even more logical than facing an Elite 4. I mean, damn, those Elite 4 would get pretty exhausted fighting challengers all day every day. The fact that there was a huge audience too made so much more sense to me than the solitary, solemn battle the Elite 4 feels like.

Conclusion

I’m glad I played and finally finished this game. It was clearly a labor of love and it’s the best storyline I have ever found in a fan game, period. If you’re willing to put up with some questionable stats balancing and a savage level curve, as well as a bunch of wonky fakemon sprites, then I definitely recommend playing it.

This is a repost on a new blog. The original post was on Mar 6, 2017.

#pokemon #pokemon uranium #pokemon fan games #mycontent #this ended up being quite long aha #sorry bout that #pokemon reviews

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hopeaterart · 4 years ago

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I’m writing down my Smash Canon, none of you can stop me.

This post tackles the Hands, the timeline, how the dimensions come together, where Tabuu, Galeem and Dharkon came from, and where fighters, trophies, non-fighter pokemon, bosses and the staff stay.

Hands

Master Hand and Crazy Hand are brothers, Master the older one by seven years, and the creator of the tournament. What originally started as him telling stories to his little brother quickly morphed into an inter-dimensional tournament, which he considers his greatest achievement.

Both of the Hands are powerful dimension warpers, although one is very careful with it to the point of seeming weak (Master), and the other one’s wrapped mental state severely limits his (Crazy). They’re both relatively new in the game, but neither of them are willing to play by the rules.

Interestingly enough, Master Hand’s core is actually less stable than Crazy’s. This is due to Crazy’s more loose attitude, allowing him to let out his inner energy more often.

Timeline

First Tournament: Simply named Super Smash Brothers. Master was 10 and Crazy was 3. Master was essentially putting on a show for his little brother. Pikachu was the winner, with Kirby as a close second.

Second Tournament: Named the Melee Tournament. Master was 12 and Crazy was 5. At Crazy’s and the competitors from the first tournament insistence, Master organized a second one where his brother could assist. This ended up causing the whole Giga Bowser incident. This is the tournament where Master introduced power restraints. The winner was Fox.

Third Tournament: Named the Brawl tournament. Master was 19 and Crazy was 12. Tabuu hijacked the tournament early in, took control of Master Hand, and Crazy had to go into hiding. Unbeknownst to everyone, he took the occasion to recruit two people: Snake, and Sonic. As thanks, once the tournament was over, Master allowed them to participate in the tournament. The (uncontested) winner was Meta Knight, forcing Master to rework the power restraints for the next tournament.

Fourth Tournament: Named the Sm4sh tournament as a joke by Crazy. Master was 25 and Crazy was 18. Upon discovering that Crazy’s dimensional range was larger than his, Master convinced his brother to use these powers to get fighters all over the multiverse. The tournament had a lot of difficulties, namely a lot of the fighters arriving later than planned, and Master accidently letting out Master Core. The winner was Bayonetta.

Fifth Tournament: Named the Ultimate tournament, Master Hand pulled out all the stops on this one: everyone is invited back, using his powers to their fullest extent to let in fighters they never could before, finally reworking the power restraints so everyone has equal chances, preparing invitations for later fighters in advance, things like that. Master was 29 and Crazy was 22. Too bad Galeem attacked a few days before the tournament, and that Crazy thought going to her sworn enemy was a good idea... they both have since been defeated, and made into glorified secretaries. The tournament is currently on-going, so no winner has been decided (although Kirby is now allowed in the winner’s lounge as thanks for saving everyone).

Dimensions

The dimension where the Hand brothers reside is in the middle of an entire cluster of dimension that essentially corresponds to Nintendo franchises. Master’s reach consist of this cluster, and Crazy’s extends beyond that, although it’s still restrained to video games. Galeem and Dharkon both exist outside of dimensions, and generally try to avoid them. As for the subspace...

Tabuu & Subspace

For every positive force, there is a negative force of equal scale. The subspace is that force to the dimension where the Smash tournament takes place, and Tabuu is it’s master. Unlike Master Hand and Crazy Hand, which are beings of actions, he prefers stagnancy, and as thus, tried to destroy their world. He would’ve succeeded if it hadn’t been for the Smashers.

Now without it’s master trying to endlessly expend it, the subspace is back to it’s natural state, simply simmering out of sight. One must wonder what could be hiding in there...

Galeem & Dharkon

Galeem and Dharkon are being that existed before time itself. Galeem represents light and order, while Dharkon represents darkness and chaos. Their home-realm was reduced to shambles millennias ago, and they now live in the spaces between dimensions. They hate each other for reasons only they remember.

Surprisingly enough for most civilization, Galeem is the one mortals would consider evil, and Dharkon good. They themselves are too ancient for silly things like human morality. After all, Galeem recreates the universes she destroys, and Dharkon’s sheer presence is enough for whole realms to collapse on themselves.

They ended up dragging the Smashers in their godly dispute, and getting taken several notches down and forced to live in company of other people might just be what they need to finally look around themselves.

Fighters, Trophies, Pokemons, Bosses, Spirits and Staff

Everyone lives in a settlement called the Smash Mansion, which started out as a modest house before being converted for Brawl, managed by the Hand brothers. The mansion is surrounded by a large forest. On one side of the forest, it eventually gives way to a beach and a never ending ocean. On the other one, the forest becomes thicker and darker until you arrive to the edge of the universe.

All of the fighters have their own rooms, and they are sorted by a number assigned to them when they first arrive. The trophies have a whole floor to themselves, and room together. The pokemons are kept in a single room in their pokeballs, but are let out quite frequently so they can get some air. The bosses all have tailored measures to keep them peaceful. For example, while Rathalos is allowed to wander the forest peacefully, Galleom is kept in the garage, deactivated, and Marx is allowed to live in the mansion, albeit with powerful power restraints. Spirits are summoned through a magical circle on the lobby’s floor, usually covered by a carpet.

The staff are hired to help Master Hand manage the mansion, and they have a whole wing to themselves. I don’t know who all of them could be, but here’s what I have for now:

Galeem and Dharkon, secretaries and in charge of keeping the smashers in check while the Hand brothers focus on the tournament.

Cooking Mama, head chef. She gets along well with everyone in the mansion, but she’s not really a fighter...

Doomguy and Galacta Knight, security. Galacta guards the edges of the dimension, and she’s here because the brothers had taken pity on her and freed her some time after the Galeem fiasco. As thus, she’s eternally grateful to them. Doomguy guards the mansion, and he’s here because he just showed up one day and has refused to leave since then.

The Waddle Dees, servants. They help around the mansion every way they can and have been gracefully volunteered by King Dedede. For some reason, a certain bandana-wearing dee seems absent...

#super smash bros #smash #Smash Bros #smash ultimate #SUPER SMASH BROS ULTIMATE #ssbu #Headcanon #smash headcanon

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alarawriting · 4 years ago

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Inktober 2020 #1: Fish

To say I wasn’t expecting an attack would be an understatement.

I was in my van, driving my oldest daughter to soccer practice. (Why yes, I am a soccer mom. I’m big enough to admit it.) Natalie was supposed to be putting on her shin guards, but instead she was playing the Nintendo 3DS Arista had brought, on the grounds that technically it was her 3DS. I believe Arista’s was out of battery, although it was the kind of detail I try not to pay too much attention to. Arista, of course, had whined about this for ten minutes straight. “It’s not fair! I brought that 3DS! You said you’d let me play! Mommm, Natalie won’t let me play!” And so on. This was partially, though not fully, drowned out by the sound of Theo singing “Itsy Bitsy Spider” loudly, enthusiastically, off-key and with half the words made up, for what may well have been the tenth time in a row.

“Mom! Make Theo be quiet. I can’t concentrate!”

“Just give me back the 3DS! You aren’t even supposed to be playing it!”

“—itsy bitsy spider, gob up the stop again, itsy bitsy spider went on the bo bo bot, so wong go the dwain and it quash the spider out—“

“That isn’t even how it goes, Theo. It goes ‘Itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout—'“

“If you’re just gonna sing to Theo you can give me back the game. Mommm, she isn’t even playing it and she won’t give it back!”

“I’m sing it, Natwee! I’m sing it my way!”

“Yeah, well your way is wrong, cause you’re a baby.”

“ITSY BITSY NATWEE, CAN’T SING THE SPIDER SONG, CAUSE THEO IS SING IT LA DA DOO DOO LA LA—“

“Come on! Let me play!”

With all this going on, I had no hope of getting back enough of my own concentration to change lanes, so I had been stuck behind a car carrier lugging SUVs for the past ten minutes. I hated being behind large trucks; they block my view of the rest of the road. And here I was with nothing in the CD player but Gary’s smooth jazz, when plainly I needed death metal to drown this out. I’d have given my pinky finger to be able to put on the radio, but radio and I did not get along.

As if to underscore this, a sudden burst of static cut through the horn solo. I frowned, wondering if I’d gotten mixed up and this was the radio after all.

“Hey, cool!” Arista said, having apparently found something worthy of distracting her from her quest to recover the 3DS. “My mood ring is red. Mom, what’s it mean when your mood ring goes red?”

I went cold, and glanced at my own left hand on the steering wheel. The stone in my ring, normally opal, had turned obsidian black.

I glanced back up to see the top SUV on the car carrier starting to slide.

“Aspída!” I shouted, having no time to do anything more complex than that. Then I spun the wheel and swerved wildly onto the right shoulder, scraping the jersey wall, as the SUV slid off the carrier’s ramp and came careening down at us.

Distantly I was aware of my kids screaming, but all my attention was on surviving this. The SUV slammed into the shield I had just cast and bounced into traffic, making the car shudder. The small truck that had been behind me struck the SUV, sending it spinning across the road. Meanwhile I’d slammed hard on my brakes, coming to a full stop about twenty feet away from where the SUV ending up crashing into the jersey wall ahead of me. The small truck pulled over, in front of the SUV. The car carrier continued blithely on into the distance.

At least they hadn’t all fallen. That would have been a lot harder to deal with. I could have done it, but I would not have liked to explain it to the kids.

“Mom! Mom! What was that? What happened?” Natalie screamed. Theo was crying hysterically, and Arista was gasping, hyperventilating.

I turned around in my seat. “Arista! Inhaler, now! Natalie, help her grab it!” I wanted to unbuckle, to go take Theo into my arms and calm him, to grab Arista’s inhaler and give it to her, but I didn’t dare. My ring was still black; Arista and Natalie’s rings were still both red.

The guy who’d been driving the small truck was coming toward me, walking along the shoulder, and he looked furious. Of course, from any reasonable human being’s perspective, I’d had nothing to do with the SUV that had fallen off the car carrier and smashed into his car, but with my ring black I didn’t dare assume he was a reasonable human being. I’d read enough about road rage incidents in the paper; I had to assume he had a gun.

I threw the car into reverse and drove backward as quickly as I dared, which was a lot slower than the cars zipping past me on the highway were going, but a lot faster than one dude walking on the shoulder. He began running toward me. “Katev̱odó̱no̱,” I whispered, shoved the gearshift into drive, and pulled out onto the highway, lurching from 0 to 60 in three seconds and slamming myself and my children back against our seats. The car behind me laid on the horn – I’d cut it off. “Sorry,” I said, more to myself than to the driver who obviously couldn’t hear me, but now I was back up to full highway speed, weaving in and out of traffic so that neither the guy I’d just cut off nor the driver of the small truck could catch up with me.

I pulled off the highway at the first exit that came up, watching as my ring dulled to a grayish opalescent color. We weren’t safe, but we weren’t in deadly danger either.

Arista’s breathing was normal again. Theo was still crying. “Mom, where are we going?” Natalie asked. “Don’t I have to get to practice?”

“You’re skipping practice today, Nally.” She used to call herself that. She couldn’t get the middle syllable of her own name, so she was Nally. Nowadays she usually rolls her eyes when I call her that, but this time, she didn’t. I could see her face in my rear view mirror; she was pale and shaken.

“Because we just had an accident?”

“We didn’t have an accident,” Arista said. “We almost had an accident.”

“Right,” I said. “We’re going home, and we’re going to eat ice cream and we’re going to relax.”

“Ice cream?” Theo asked, his sobs becoming weaker and less pronounced.

“Yep! Who wants an ice cream soda, who wants a milkshake and who wants a sundae?”

Kids are sometimes very easy to bribe. Though I suspected that Natalie was letting herself be bribed rather than challenging me. She knew something weird had just happened, but she didn’t want to ask me what, or perhaps didn’t want to acknowledge it.

Another old terror raised its head. What if she was like me? What if all of them were? What if they could use magic?

I shook my head to banish the thought. No one had found us. No one had sent either of them an invitation to school. Natalie was 12, Arista was 10… they were old enough that they could have gotten invitations by now. I’d gotten mine when I was 9, though my parents hadn’t been persuaded to send me to a boarding school until I was 13.

I’d wanted to go. I’d begged for it. I’d wanted to learn magic so, so badly.

I couldn’t even remember how that had felt, now.

***

When we got home, I put the girls in charge of getting the ice cream, the Coke, the sundae fixings, the milk and the blender out, and Theo in charge of washing his hands, going to the bathroom, changing his clothes and washing up. He’d been potty trained for nearly a year, but I’d nearly peed myself during the almost-accident; I could hardly hold it against a little boy that he’d wet his pants. Theo was obviously very embarrassed by it, though, so I didn’t acknowledge that he’d done so, just gave him the opportunity to wash himself up and change to save face.

I went straight downstairs to my fish tanks in the basement.

The filters didn’t hum. The tank lights weren’t on. The room smelled like ozone and smoke. At least one of the surge suppressors that ran my tank filters and lights was blackened. And every single fish in all four of my tanks was floating on top of their water, dead.

The opal on my ring was still dark grey.

In Homeric Greek – the language I cast spells in, though this wasn’t a spell – I said softly, “Brave heroes, I commend your souls to the Elysian Fields. The gods will honor you.” I didn’t actually think the ancient Greeks had believed fish would go to the Elysian Fields, but then, I also didn’t actually believe in the Elysian Fields, or the later Christian version, Heaven. If humans had souls – and they might, I’d seen Jason so many times I found it hard to believe that all of him could literally be gone, forever – then fish could as well, maybe. These fish hadn’t exactly volunteered to die to save my family, but they’d been feeder goldfish, destined for the belly of a pet predator or an agonizing, choking death due to high ammonia levels and lack of oxygen from the overcrowding in the feeder tanks. I’d given them a better, longer life than they could otherwise have hoped for.

Whatever had killed them, I hoped it had been fast. It looked like some kind of electrical short, maybe. A month ago one of those had taken out all the fish in tank four; I’d replaced the filter, and the surge protector, and the GFCI outlet the surge protector was plugged into, but when magic is targeting you, all of the sane and reasonable precautions you can take may end up coming to nothing. The fish had died because I’d bound them to my family and enchanted them to take on our bad luck. Most of the time, that meant fish died one by one over a period of months, as all of the normal bad luck that might occur to a family just failed to happen – my kids never got scraped knees, our cars never broke down, Gary made it through every round of layoffs at his company, none of us ever got sick.

When the fish started dying fairly rapidly last month, starting with the electrical short, the stone in my ring had been purple – not white opal, not the gray it was right now, not the black it had turned on the highway. I’d put more fish into service and it had faded to white. The fish had been doing reasonably well; I’d thought the danger was over.

But today all of them were dead. And I didn’t dare go out and get more; whatever malevolent spell had targeted me and my family would work a lot more effectively outside the shields I had around the house. Petco would ship me fancy fish, but not feeders. Which meant firstly that it would cost a lot more money to put more fish into service, secondly that I wouldn’t be able to leave the house again until tomorrow when the fish arrived (and what would I do about the girls going to school? They couldn’t leave either, and I couldn’t explain to them or to Gary why not.) And thirdly, that the girls, and Gary, would see the change, think I was taking Gary’s advice about getting nicer fish who could actually serve as pets, and they’d be horribly disappointed when the fish died.

Maybe I could have two layers of fish, I thought. Pet fish upstairs and feeders down here. Order neon tetras and a tank for overnight delivery, set them up, go out and buy more feeders as soon as I had the neons in service.

The thought flickered through my mind that I could buy feeder mice instead. Mammals are stronger and have more life force, and more resistance to malevolent magic. Feeder mice were in the same position as feeder goldfish – they were destined to die. I’d just be giving them a good life before it happened.

But my children would get attached to the mice. Would give them names. Would cry when they died.

I closed my eyes. I needed more power to protect the family than I had at the moment. I’d given up so much of it for my anonymity and my family’s safety, back before I’d even met Gary, when the only family I’d had to protect were my parents.

To get it back, to protect them now, I’d have to break some old compacts. But those old compacts weren’t working well enough anyway, obviously, if someone was targeting me.

“Moommm! We’re ready!” Arista yelled down the stairs.

“I’m coming,” I said, and headed up. I’d deal with the magic later. Right now, I’d promised my kids ice cream, to distract them from near-death and any weirdness they’d observed, and as both a magus and a mother, I’d learned to keep my promises.

***

This is a piece from a WIP “Not Even Past”, about a former child mage student who had to save the world with her group of friends, all of whom died except her. She left the world of magic behind and became a soccer mom. But now the world of magic is coming back for her.

#inktober 2020 #not even past #amanda walker #alara's october 2020 prompt fics

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mamabearcat · 6 years ago

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All Fired Up - Part 3

Thanks for all the likes and reblogs guys. Aw shucks. As a reward, you get a crazy two for the price of one deal, never to be repeated - part 3 closely followed by part 4! Enjoy.

Part 1

Part 2

Lucy tried to keep a smile on her face as the red headed woman in a navy-blue skirt and police uniform shirt entered her room, the clicking of her high heels softened by the linoleum flooring. She realised this woman would be asking her to give her version of events regarding the apartment fire, and she was having trouble concentrating. It was hard to concentrate on anything at the moment when she was feeling more than a little overwhelmed. Natsu had just told her that everything she owned in this world was gone; her clothes, her books, her photos… everything. She was sitting here in a hospital gown - she didn’t even own the clothes on her back. There was just her and Plue. And a wave of rising panic.

She gulped and pushed the feeling down. Natsu’s visit with Plue had been a welcome reprieve, and for a little while she’d felt genuinely happy for the first time in ages. Something about Natsu made her feel comfortable. Even when he’d told her about her apartment, she hadn’t felt as alone as she had this morning, waking up in a hospital room with only vague memories of how she’d got there. His presence was warm and cheerful, and with him in her room she’d felt safe. She’d allowed herself a few minutes to collapse in Natsu’s arms, to lean on a stranger’s strength for a just a moment while she regrouped, but that would have to be enough. It’s not like she would probably ever see him again once she was out of hospital, apart from picking up Plue. It wouldn’t be long before she would be forced to go back out into the real world, alone.

The real world didn’t stand still for feelings. It didn’t care when her mother had died when she was only a child, and as she struggled through high school alone with a father made mentally distant by crippling depression. It didn’t care that when she’d finally reconnected with her father only a year ago, he’d been diagnosed soon after with inoperable cancer. It didn’t care that after nursing him for six months she’d had to say goodbye to the only family member she had, leaving her alone in the world.

Feelings were there to be swallowed. Only the surface mattered. If you showed a smiling face, people didn’t dig too deep. No matter what they said, people didn’t really want truth when they asked, ‘How are you?’ They didn’t want messy emotions that made them uncomfortable. They wanted politeness, safeness, sameness.

She took a deep breath, and turned her smile towards the police woman, watching as she greeted Natsu by name, saw her smile at Plue as Natsu explained the reason for the dog in his lap. Watched as they teased each other, obviously old friends. She used the minute they spent chatting to focus her thoughts on trying to remember the fire. At the moment it was a blur, but she was pretty sure if she concentrated, she would be able to remember some details that might be helpful.

This woman, Erza, was from the Arson Squad, so the fire hadn’t been an accident. Natsu had mentioned the Arson Squad too, saying they’d examined her apartment, and for some reason she hadn’t quite worked out yet, that didn’t surprise her. Something had happened. She’d been struggling with a panicky feeling since this morning. It was vague; she couldn’t really remember much, but something at the back of her mind told her she should be afraid.

Images flashed across her memory. An empty hallway. A man with spiked blond hair, a tattooed face, teeth sharpened to points. A rasping voice. His leer as he mouthed the words “You’re pretty.”

She didn’t realise that she was gasping for breath until she felt a touch on her shoulder, and Natsu’s concerned gaze. The edges of her vision were blurring out a little, and dark spots floated across her vision. She concentrated on the green of his eyes. They were almost too green, not hazel, but a deep moss green, shot with hints of emerald. And his eyelashes. The long dark lashes framed his eyes made them seem even brighter somehow.

Natsu’s voice sounded a little fuzzy, and she could feel her fingers tingling, hands twisting as the muscles spasmed, and the pain of the burns on her forearms flared. There was a high-pitched buzzing noise in her ears and her heart thumped hard and rapid against her chest, like a caged animal trying to escape. Was she dying? Her eyes widened as a feeling of pure panic rose in her chest again, and she watched as Natsu calmly handed Plue to the red-haired woman, and pushed the nurse call buzzer, then grasped her hands in his. He was talking again. The words and meaning were fuzzy, but the tone was warm, comforting. His hands were warm too, squeezing her cold tingly fingers. He was breathing slowly, exaggeratedly, in through his nose, and out through his mouth, his generous lips pursing as he pushed the air out. Should she do that too?

She tried to follow Natsu’s breathing and felt his hands squeeze hers again as he nodded in encouragement. In and out. She did her best to copy him, her eyes locked on his, feeling rather than seeing a nurse replace the nasal cannula with a full faced oxygen mask. All of her visual awareness was locked on Natsu. When he tried to release her fingers to move out of the nurse’s way, she resisted, grasping his fingers more firmly. She felt so cold and his hands were warm.

Gradually the rest of the room came back into focus. She could feel the tightness of a blood pressure cuff on her arm, and the cold sensation of a stethoscope on her back as the nurse listened to her heartrate. The sound of whimpering as Plue struggled in the policewoman’s arms, desperate to get to her. The firm grasp of Natsu’s fingers. She squeezed them one more time in thanks, and then let them go, her heart beating a little faster again as she realised he was sitting on the bed next to her. But that wasn’t important right now. She turned her gaze to the police woman sitting quietly out of the way on the chair next to her bed.

“I remember. I remember who started the fire.”

The police woman’s gaze sharpened.

The nurse interrupted. “I’m not sure if Ms Heartfilia should be discussing this right now. Her heartrate is still elevated, and I’d prefer it if she got some rest and calmed down first.”

Lucy shook her head. “Please”, she said, her voice muffled by the oxygen mask over her face. “I want to give the information I have while it’s still clear in my head. It’s important.” The nurse pursed her lips and then let out a heavy sigh.

“I want you to keep that mask on for the next ten minutes without talking. I’ll be back to check on your obs, and if you’ve made some improvement, then I’ll allow it.” Her eyebrow twitched in amusement. “And you’d better get that dog out of here before the next shift starts – I don’t mind, but you might not have as much luck with the next nurse on duty.”

Natsu chuckled. “Sure thing.”

When the nurse left, Erza got to her feet, handing a still wriggling Plue to Natsu. “Ms Heartfilia, if you don’t mind, I will go to the cafeteria and purchase a coffee to give you a moment to collect your thoughts. Can I get anything for you Natsu?”

Natsu looked towards Lucy. “Maybe I should take Plue and go, so Lucy can get some rest.” When Lucy’s eyes widened and she shook her head, he smiled easily at her, plonking Plue in her lap and moving off the bed to sit in the chair that Erza had just vacated. “Okay. Guess I’ll have a long black then, thanks Erza.”

After Erza had left, Natsu and Lucy shared a comfortable silence for a few minutes, Natsu gazing out the window while Lucy stroked Plue’s ears as he settled down on her lap.

“Natsu?”, she said softly. Natsu glanced back to her and shook his head.

“I don’t think your ten minutes are up yet Lucy. Nurse’s orders, remember.” He smiled at her irritated sigh. “You did really well before. I used to have panic attacks all the time when I was younger – I remember how scary they feel.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Did you remember something about the fire that frightened you?”

Lucy closed her eyes and nodded, concentrating on her breathing for a moment before opening them again.

Natsu turned his gaze back towards the window. “When I was nine, our house burnt down. I was stuck downstairs in the basement – we had a rumpus room down there, where I had my Nintendo 64 set up.” He laughed. “I was so into playing Super Smash Bros. I didn’t notice the fire at first, and then I couldn’t get out because the door was blocked from the other side, and the window was too small to climb out of. I cut myself pretty badly on the glass trying though, before the fire crew could get to me. For a while I was terrified of fire; couldn’t even have birthday candles on my cake without setting off a panic attack.” He laughed again. “And look at me now, I’m a fireman.”

He gave her a grin. “I guess what I’m tryin’ to say Lucy, is that even though we don’t know each other very well, I sort of understand. And, if you’ll let me, I’d like to be there for you. I’d like us to be friends. Gotta start makin’ friends in a new city sometime right?”

For just a moment, Lucy hesitated. She hadn’t had any real friends for such a long time, but in the short time she’d known him Natsu had proven himself to be brave, strong and caring. He made her feel happy. And if that wasn’t enough, Plue trusted him. She gave him a small smile. “I’d like that Natsu”, she said softly. Natsu’s answering grin gave her a warm feeling, and suddenly she didn’t feel quite so alone any more.

A sharp knock alerted them to Erza’s return, carrying two takeaway cups of coffee. Erza grabbed herself a second chair, passing Natsu’s coffee to him. The nurse bustled in, and checked Lucy’s obs, grudgingly giving Erza the go ahead to ask questions. She replaced the oxygen facemask with the nasal cannula, reminding them not to stress Lucy too much, before heading out of the room.

“Are you sure you feel ready to proceed Ms Heartfilia?” asked Erza, taking out her recorder. “I’ll be recording this conversation, if you’re happy with that. At the moment this interview is informal, to gather information for the case.”

“Do you need me to leave Erza?” asked Natsu.

“Actually, I’d prefer you’d stay, seeing you were responsible for Ms Heartfilia’s evacuation from the building. You might be able to add to her recollection.”

Lucy looked at Erza uncertainly. “I’ll do my best, but everything is a little hazy.”

“Why don’t you start from earlier on in the evening Ms Heartfilia, that might help jog your memory”, said Erza kindly.

“Alright. I got home late from work. I’m a journalist; I’m actually researching a story at the moment on the recent string of apartment fires in Magnolia”, began Lucy. “I’d decided to take a break from work and spend some time on a private project I have…” She closed her eyes and tried to remember.

Part 4

#nalu fanfiction #nalu #firefighter AU #natsu x lucy #Bearpluscat fanfics

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drsteggy · 5 years ago

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As of Tuesday, I now have both my forearms tattooed. They are very different.

On my right, is a Latin phrase that I first heard on The Walking Dead. It translates to “be patient and tough for one day this pain will do you good.” I liked how this was used during this time of the show (right before it started to crash hard for me) and I’d flirted with the idea of a Walking Dead tattoo, but none of the imagery from it had ever appealed to me that much and as much as I was into Daryl Dixon, putting his face on me seemed weird. I kept that phrase in my head though.

And then we had an election in 2016 and overnight the world changed horribly. I felt horror and despair and I really tried to hide it but I don’t think I did a great job and it occurred to me that maybe that Latin made sense, so on December 6, 2016 I went to Shotsie’s and had Scotty put it on my right arm, and it was something I could look at when I felt challenged.

And I was about to be challenged a lot. A LOT.

I’d just started a new job after coming out of a really horrible crash and burn at a job I absolutely loved. The short version is that my boss decided that she would take some time off to buy her own place (we were corporate) without telling anyone and I somehow ended up the bad guy as well as keeping the place afloat alone for six months. It was traumatic and terrible.

My father, who was someone who I had been very close to, changed toward me in ways I don’t understand, still, and sent me a text message right before Christmas of 2016 telling me he wish he had abandoned me at the same time my mother did (when I was 18) if he had known “how I would turn out.” My youngest brother took up my father’s case as well, but also started gatekeeping my father’s about to fail health. I found out about an emergency hospital stay on Facebook by accident a week after having my father telling me how he wish he had ditched me. The rest of the people I am related to eventually turned against me as well without ever speaking to me about anything. My father died in May of 2017, and as horrible as that is by itself, I felt very alone and I had very few people I could speak to about it. I love my partner but he was raised to be a stoic guy and his response to the sort of emotional mess that I was is to try and tough it out, and, wow, I tried.

It was not a good time. I tried being tough and patient and white knuckled my way through another 18 months. About a year ago I finally broke.

A few months prior to breaking, I’d gotten a Nintendo Switch with the intention to get into Let’s Go Eevee (I still don’t own that game.) I ended up with a copy of Legend of Zelda:Breath of the Wild without ever having played a Zelda game or knowing almost anything about the series. I mean, I knew the character you played wasn’t named Zelda, but Link ...and that’s literally it. I had played a ton of tabletop Dungeons & Dragons in my formative years, though, and approached it like that.

During this time in my real life, I was spending time only leaving the house if I absolutely had to. I was not playing with my model horses, or running, or doing many of the things I typically did. I’d sit at home and just feel frozen and paralyzed until I had to go to work. I was brittle and fragile at work and tough things made me collapse. I’m a veterinarian, so work is tough things every day. Usually more than once a day. It was not a good time.

I did get into therapy and my therapist gave me tools and insights to help deal with the practical day to day things, and offered me ways to think about the people who were not being very kind to me. She helped A LOT, and I have recommended her to many people. She is the only person outside of a very few very close to me who has told me she thinks I’m amazing and asked if I can see that (I still wiffle on that) I had my friends who are really my family who quietly sat in my corner, not sure how to help, but trying anyway. However, BOTW gets an assist trophy during this process because it was there every day and at times the human support network couldn’t be.

You start the game with amnesia. Something has gone down a century earlier and that’s all you know. Since I came to the franchise with zero expectations, this worked well for me. I had no idea what the relationship between the characters were, or what I was supposed to do until someone told me. This game is also open world though, so even if there’s something you’re supposed to do, you don’t have to do it. You can go do whatever moves you. So at first, I had some goals to work to, but when I couldn’t get those done, I’d sometimes just say screw it and go explore.

On days when I could not leave the house, and did not have to, I’d work on advancing the main quest. If I didn’t have that in me, I’d go find shrines and work the puzzles. If I couldn’t do that, I’d just walk or ride around Hyrule and find places to watch the sun rise or set. I did not feel pressure to do things, I could avoid fights if I chose, I could just go pick flowers and flip over rocks and catch frogs and now that I put it that way, I spent a lot of time as a kid doing exactly that. There was something very very soothing about Hyrule and it gave me a place to just go be calm when I needed to go be calm.

I spent so much time in BOTW, it did eventually lead me to seek out other things, and I learned a bunch and met some people. Zelda games spark a lot of fan art, so I fell down that rabbit hole and over time it started leaking out of my game sessions into t shirts, and model horse stuff, and late this past summer it seemed like a great idea to go out in public in a blonde wig (and yes, that did turn out to be a great idea, thanks so much.) And at that point, it seemed like I should probably mark this on my body.

It took a while to choose the symbol. They don’t talk about the triforce in BOTW, so I still don’t really get that, and the wing crest seems a little generic to me, and using an image of Link didn’t seem right, either. I think I’m playing me when I play, not driving a 17 year old boy. Nintendo does that on purpose, apparently. His name is Link because he links the player to the game, and he doesn’t have a voice because you’re supposed to insert yourself in the game. So, a portrait of Link didn’t float my boat, but his signature weapon did.

I don’t know how the Master Sword works in other games. In BOTW you don’t need it, but you had better be ready for it when you do decide you’re going to draw it from its pedestal in the Korok Forest. The sword is fussy about who touches it, it chooses its master, and if you’re not worthy, it will definitely kill you. It’s the one weapon in the game that you can’t permanently destroy (yes there are a few you can repair, but you don’t need to fix the Master Sword, it heals itself.) And, if you take it out and swing it against the enemies it’s meant to be swung at, the controller feels different then using other weapons. It’s a special thing that only you can handle, it’s a very recognizable image from what it is so that’s what I landed on. On December 10, 2019, three years and four days after I got my Latin, I went back to Shotsie’s and Theoni gave me my Master Sword. I felt like I was finally worthy.

My therapist felt that after about four months, I was ok to try flying solo. She wasn’t wrong. That’s about the time the Zelda was starting to escape the containment of my Switch, too. I still play a lot, not really every day anymore, and I’m not up until 2 or 3 in the morning just doing one last thing, though I am on a fourth playthrough (I needed to try things differently after beating the game). I still sometimes just like to ride and watch the sun rise and set. I think I’ll play forever, but even if I don’t, it was such a huge part of this time of my life and it marks the end of being broken and starting to heal.

#tattoos #zelda tattoo #trauma #ink story #latin tattoo quotes #family sucks

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toastscraps · 6 years ago

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Daystar

I blame @linkeduniverse by @jojo56830 ; It made me get a tumblr (and discord) account and write a fanfiction for it. I don’t own the characters, (Nintendo created them, jojo perfected them, I just play with them.) Based on the discord writing prompt, “Hope, even in the worst of times.”

I was stupid and did the bonuses, too:

- 3k+ words (turned into 12k +)

- Link-centric with a Link you’re unfamiliar with (I’ve never played any of Wind’s games, and avoided his character on Smash because I didn’t like the design. I have done my research and now understand the error of my ways.)

- Prompt incorporated (near the end of the fic)

- Fight scenes incorporated (yes, but not very good ones)

Warnings: Blood, gore(mostly minor), angst, injuries, major character death(s)

Other Warnings: poor writing and pacing, characters may be OOC, author is not good at writing emotions

Summary: Wind wishes to prove himself- he makes a mistake and tries to fix it. It only gets worse from there.

I apologize ahead of time for this monster.

They were in Time’s Hyrule, surrounded by Peahats and Stalchildren. Time was not happy because Wild, Hyrule, and Warriors had been fooling around and had awakened the Peahats. To make matters worse, due to the Shadow’s interference, Stalchildren (which hadn’t been around for years) had risen again and had been enhanced to the point of only being affected by fire and bombs (which Wild had discovered by accident). At most they could use their swords to push them back and gain a little room to blow them up. It was very… loud and explosive. Twilight was the only exception to the rule, his strength cracking bone on impact as he pushed with his shield and kicked with his iron-toed boots. He would shoot a bomb arrow occasionally, but he mostly stuck to brute force tactics. The others had their own ways of dealing with their enemies. Time was on the other side of the fight, using Din’s fire to roast the Stalchildren around him. Sky was taking down Peahats with precise movements, Four getting under the blades and stabbing upwards into the soft flesh without somehow getting decapitated. Hyrule had enflamed his sword with magic (or something) and was using it to take down enemies left and right. Legend was, of course, fighting with an efficiency that would be sure to make even the greatest veteran fighter jealous. He somehow knew exactly where his enemy was going to be, and was able to place bombs right where multiple Stalchildren were about to appear. Warriors was taking out waves of the skeletons just by swinging the fire staff.

And here Wind was, rolling and ducking to get to a place where he could hit a plant with a sword to kill it. Sure, it had deadly blades, but he was a hero. He should be better than this. Wind had run out of bombs earlier, forgetting to pace himself, and was now relegated to fighting the Peahats, which weren’t the ones he was familiar with, which Four had discovered could be killed by slicing at the roots multiple times. They never rested or went back into the ground, and seemed strangely sentient. Wind ducked the sharp leaves, wishing he either had more bombs, or had more brute force. Either would be preferable to this dodging and moving to get into a good position to target the roots.

Wind was finally able to down his monster, and looked up to see Twilight knock the head off of one of the Stalchildren with a well-placed blow to its jaw with his shield. It walked around aimlessly, as if looking for its skull, before Twilight knocked it over with a kick to its shins and it retreated underground. The charred bones of the other skeletons disappeared into the ground with shadow rising up in a mist and blowing away on the wind. Soon all that was left were the vegetable remains of the Peahats.

Time sighed and allowed Wild to harvest what he wanted, looking around in disapproval with his patented “dad” face. Wind couldn’t help but feel as if it were directed to him. Sure, he took out a lot of creatures, but not nearly as many as the others, and it had taken him a long while to figure out how to get around the defenses of his own enemy and stab at the core.

“And you guys thought it would be a good idea to awaken the Peahats, why?” Time asked a guilty Wild and nonchalant Warriors. Hyrule was trying hard to look ashamed, but mostly Wind thought he looked pleased with himself.

“Never mind,” Time held up a hand, closing his one eye, “I don’t want to know.”

“What should we do now?” Twilight asked. Wind wiped sweat from his brow. He didn’t know how the others made it look so easy. Sky seemed tired, too, but he was the only one.

“Maybe we can make camp?” Sky asked hopefully. “It’s night already, and there’s no sense in travelling in the dark.”

“All those for staying the night?” Legend asked, holding up a hand as if he were taking a vote.

“No,” Time said. “I don’t think that would be wise. At least not here. We need to get out of Hyrule Field; if Stalchildren are rising again, we’re going to be fighting them all night.” The entire group groaned. “I know we all want to rest, especially after such a big battle, but we need to prioritize our safety above all else.”

Four recovered first. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.” He stalked over to where Time was already turning toward the Forest, which was only about an hour’s walk away. The others shuffled over, ready to leave as well. Wind, finally catching his breath, moved to catch up.

“You holding in there okay, kid?” Warriors asked from beside him. Wind glanced over and huffed.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“It was a long fight,” Warriors reminded.

“It’s okay. I’m good.”

Warriors seemed to search him with his eyes, and then nodded. “Okay, but I’m gonna walk back here with you.” Quiet filled the night air as the earth cooled. The breeze felt good on Wind’s face, and he was glad that there was at least a little reprieve from their fighting. Time’s Hyrule had fresh air, a different kind from the great sea, and even a removed kind from New Hyrule’s. It was different, but good. Hyrule Field had once belonged to many farmers, Time had said, a long time ago, before most of Hyrule could remember, and before Time was born. Then there had been a war. Then there had been burning and fear, and nations warring against nations, and Hyrule field was in the middle of it all. There men and women of various races fought and bled and died. It was a dark time, full of anger and terror. Fields of wheat that once grew and flourished under the sun were trampled and torn up and watered with sapient blood. Fences that had been raised under the care of farmers were torn through by heavily armored horses and knights. Homes were broken into and burned, and everything became tinder for the flames of conflict.

Those who didn’t live behind the protective walls of cities and towns were the first to die.

By the time the Hylian kingdom had won and united the country, the field had become a graveyard and a reminder of the sins of the land. But seasons passed, and vegetation grew; weeds flourishing in the baking sun and crisp-cool night. Shafts of grain, legacies of an ancient past, grew there too. At night the dead, long forgotten, were again remembered, and reenacted their ends in horrific mimicry. But the land was beginning to heal, and on the breeze came the scent of barley and wheat and the pollen of wildflowers flirting with the air. And somehow, even if it wasn’t his Hyrule, it felt like home.

Wind released a breath and opened his eyes. It really was nice just to calm down, especially after a battle; even if he was practically worthless during it. “C’mon,” he told Warriors. “Let’s catch up with the others.” Warriors gave an amused huff and jogged with him until they were walking behind Twilight and Wild. Wild turned and grinned at them, and Twilight gave his hair a quick ruffle.

There was a shift in the wind, and suddenly it didn’t smell like Time’s Hyrule. It smelled like a sunny day and salty droplets spraying from below. Time must have noticed as well as half the party, because they suddenly stopped. “Something’s about to–” Legend started. He didn’t have time to finish, because suddenly they were all standing on wooden boards, rocking to a perpetual motion. They all got sprayed with brine, and Sky nearly toppled over at one of the large waves.

“Oi! What are you rats doing on my ship?” a rough voice called out. Lightning flashed, revealing a tall, thin-ish Hylian with dark bags under his eyes and a little lip fuzz. Wind recognized him immediately, and pushed himself in front of the rest of the group.

“Hey Linebeck!” Wind cheered, gaining his attention.

“Ki- Link! How fare you? How’d you get on my ship?” Lightning crashed and the ship tossed violently. Hyrule and Four were thrown off their feet. Warriors was visiting the side of the ship, and even Time was looking a little green. Sky was still trying to stay balanced.

“It’s a long story. Mind if we take this down below?”

“Sure- Hey, you! No vomiting on my ship! I mean it!”

“Why are you up here in this storm? You’re not even at the wheel!”

“What do you mean? I love untamed nature! The chaos! The grit it takes to be a man and to go toe to toe with the elements!”

“…There’s a monster in the hold, isn’t there?”

“I’ll go!” Wild offered quickly, and darted down the hatch. Even he was looking a little peaked.

Wind sighed. “C’mon Linebeck. It’ll probably be dead by the time we get down there, anyway.”

The rest of the Links began to follow, Warriors practically running.

“Hey, you’re not going to empty your guts on my floor, are you?” Linebeck challenged.

“There’s nothing left in there anyway,” Warriors muttered, ducking down below.

“I’ll help up here,” Legend said. “Make sure we don’t crash into anything,” he said under his breath. He grabbed the wheel and held it firmly.

“Don’t worry about crashing,” Linebeck called out. “There’s no land here for miles!”

Legend frowned, and then returned it back to the way it was before. “Whatever; it’s your boat.”

Soon they were all down below. Wild was gathering blue chuchu jelly into some jars, and Warriors was already looking relieved. Legend just looked nervous.

“Ahh, this is much better,” Linebeck said. “So, now that we can hear one another, how did you get to this ship?”

Wind explained why they were there, and who the other Links were. Time and Sky both spoke a bit, too, but Sky looked like he was about to sleep where he was sitting.

“Hmm. I’m not sure I believe you, but you are all here anyway. Welcome to SS Linebeck! Don’t touch any of my stuff, and I’ll let you sleep next to the crates.”

“How generous,” Legend said dryly. He shuddered at some invisible chill. “Are you sure you don’t want help in this storm?”

Linebeck waved him off. “These storms don’t usually last long. Besides, the sails are down; there’s not much else I can do.”

Wind was surprised Linebeck was allowing them to sleep down here at all, though, he reflected, it probably would have been in poor taste for him to start throwing the others overboard. “Good night, Linebeck!” he called.

“Night, kid,” Linebeck replied and headed out of the hold to his cabin.

“Well, that was interesting,” Hyrule said.

“Let’s all get some sleep.” Time stood and began to unpack his bedroll. “We’re lucky we got teleported to an ally; let’s take advantage of the peace while we can.”

Thunder crashed and boomed. The ship dipped back and forth like a child’s rocking horse. No one slept much that night.

Morning came bright and early. Wind was already up on the deck looking out over the ocean. He took a deep breath of the fresh air and exhaled. This is what he’d missed most about his world; the freedom, the saline wind in his hair and the blue expanse of the sea. The sun had risen on a clear blue sky, and the visibility was amazing. Wind could see for miles.

Then he noticed something out on the horizon. It looked like an island, but it seemed a lot larger. It cast a great shadow where the sea met the sky. Linebeck was standing at the bow, looking in the same direction. Wind ran up to him.

“Do you see it?” the captain asked. “That, right there, is a new discovery! Think of the treasure one might find on an island like that! Why, who knows? Maybe we’ve discovered a new land! We could call it… Linebeckia! Or something. I’ll think about it.”

The others trickled onto the deck throughout the morning, and by lunch they were almost at the shore. Linebeck didn’t have any means of cooking, and practically had a heart attack when Wild attempted to build a fire in the hold, so they had to either eat some of his jerky stores (which weren’t bad, Wind had practically consisted off of them for an entire pseudo-year) or wait ‘till they landed to have lunch.

Sky was, as usual, the last one up, and by that time they were anchoring. The land was huge, larger than any island Wind had ever seen. Legend was eying it critically, and Wind thought he saw a good mixture of relief and something else when he found (or didn’t find) what he was looking for.

They all got out and looked around. It seemed dead silent, not a soul or sign of habitation to be seen for miles around. “Not many landmarks around here for a treasure chest, are there?” Linebeck frowned. They found some driftwood drying in the sun and built a large fire there on the beach. Wild cooked up some fish they caught. Wind watched the flames while he ate, licking off his greasy fingers when he was done. He wished he could show the others his home; where Aryll and Grandma lived, and where the hibiscus bloomed on the beach in the light of the setting sun. But, he supposed, this was kind of nice, too. Seagulls cried well above them, coming close to the strangers that had food. Wild was trying to shoo them away from the cooking pot, which by now was cooling on the sand. Four was, uncharacteristically, lounging on the sand and soaking in the sun. Twilight and Sky had left to go scout the area in case there were enemies or settlements nearby. Linebeck wanted to go search for treasure, and Hyrule and Legend had offered to join, so they were out milling around somewhere, too.

Wind wondered, suddenly, what it would be like for them if they left him behind. It was a strange thought, one he wasn’t used to contemplating. He was a hero, like the rest of them, and he knew it, but sometimes he just felt so…outclassed by all of them. He wanted to be more than just another one of them. He wanted to show them, to prove to them that he wasn’t the weakest of their group; that he wouldn’t hold them back.

“Hey, kid, what’s wrong?” Warriors sat down next to Wind, having been in the middle of a conversation with Time moments prior.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’ve been quieter than normal.” The young man picked up a stick from by the fire and used it to stir the dying coals back to life. “Did something happen last night that we don’t know about?” Suddenly he shot an appraising gaze up and down Wind’s body. “Did you get wounded?”

“No,” Wind said quietly. “Just thinking.”

“Well, that’s dangerous,” Warriors said, joking. He lifted his hand to ruffle Wind’s hair. “Don’t sit thinking too long, we like having you with us.” He dropped his hand from Wind’s head. “Do you need to talk about anything?”

Wind shrugged. “I dunno. Nothing important, just thinking. Warriors, what do you think sets you apart from the others?”

Warriors appeared momentarily surprised by this question, but recovered quickly. “Why, my devilishly handsome good looks, of course,” he smirked. “And I have more training and skill fighting multiple monsters at the same time, I suppose.” Wind nodded quietly.

“And what do you think sets me apart from the others?” Warriors seemed very concerned about this question and was opening his mouth to answer when loud shouts came from the land above them.

“Hey, guess what we found?” Hyrule asked excitedly, running down to the fire where they were sitting. He kicked up sand as he ran, getting some in the cooking pot, which Wild had just finished cleaning. Wild made a noise in his throat and reached in to try to clean it out again.

“Let me guess,” Time said wryly as Linebeck came into sight empty-handed. “Not treasure.”

“No, even better!” he exclaimed. “Come see!”

Hyrule’s excitement was persuasive, and soon they were all following him back up the hill. Sky and Twilight were just returning from their scouting, and joined the party as well. Hyrule led the way forward, as Linebeck had excused himself, saying he had an errand that needed running and would be back in a few days. He’d hugged Wind and told him that if he found any treasure to let him know. Wind didn’t like goodbyes, but Linebeck had promised to return, so he didn’t complain much- he would see him in a couple of days.

Legend was waiting for them at the top of a rocky cliff overlooking the beach further down. There was a rope ladder bolted into the ground that had obviously been there before they had. “Now, before we go down there,” he started without any preamble, “they may look different, but don’t attack them. They are really quite peaceful.”

“Why would we want to attack them?” Sky frowned.

“Someone startles easily and likes to swing first and ask questions later,” Legend said pointedly. Hyrule blushed.

“No one got hurt,” he quickly clarified. “And they’re really cool, too!”

“Alright, let’s get down there,” Time said, following Legend as he descended. Wind followed after, much to the protest of Twilight, who thought he should be next. He went ignored.

When they reached the bottom of the ladder they followed the cliff to a cave entrance. It was dark inside, and it took Wind’s eyes a couple of moments to adjust. When they did, he heard a gasp behind him as Twilight entered. The people here were black and white skinned, with grey tones between, and teal symbols marking their chests. They were slender and towered over them on thin legs, their orange eyes observing every move. In one corner of the cave there was what appeared to be a strange mirror with runes running its circumference. The other corner was much more elaborate, appearing to have been carved out of stone by an ancient race. There was a stone door with carvings and ancient symbols with the image of a woman in the middle, holding up what appeared to be a stone with lines drawn outward from it. The rest of the party piled in, and the tallest of the group stepped forward to greet them.

“Hello, I am Hambar, of the Twili. I have been delegated as Keeper of this sacred cave, and these are chosen ambassadors of the Light world. When the little one attacked, we knew that your party must be made of brave warriors.”

“We do apologize for that, by the way,” Time said, stepping forward. “Is there anything we can do to make up for it?”

The ambassadors shared a glance with the Keeper, and they nodded to him as he turned back to the group. “There is one thing you could do for us,” he admitted, “though we understand if you refuse.

“You see, after the goddesses sank Hyrule, they approached us and offered us a chance at redemption. We were trapped millennia ago in the Twilight Realm due to our greed. Over the years we have adapted to our environment, and lost most of our magic. Some of us still have it, but we have all but forgotten the skills our sorcerer ancestors possessed. As such, we cannot enter the Light Realm without threat of death. The goddesses have given us this land, but it is impossible to leave this cave except at night. We don’t want to risk building when we might not get back below before the sun rises, and there is no cover for miles around.

“But the goddesses have given us a way out. This is the Cave of Naeovi, and herein lays the Daystar, which can transform our people so that we may step into the light once more. Only one who is worthy can complete the Trials of Sorrow, which will unlock the Daystar and allow our people to live in the land we’ve been given. We’ve been waiting hundreds of years for our freedom.”

“Why haven’t one of the Twili completed the trials?” Time asked from the sidelines. He was tense, and appeared suspicious.

“All of us who wish to have tried, at one point or another. Young men and women, looking to prove themselves, place their hands on the Moonstone and try to gain entrance to the trials. Some are rejected; some make it into the trials but fail. No one has passed, and once failed the Stone no longer accepts them. No one who has been rejected has ever been accepted at another attempt, either. I myself tried every day for years when I was first made Keeper of the Cave. We are losing heart. But here we have fierce and brave combatants from the Light world. Perhaps we have a chance at redemption, now.”

“And what exactly do these trials consist of?” Legend’s arms, like Time’s, were stiff and straight, like he was either preparing to grab his sword or turn and run.

“We cannot say,” Hambar replied. “No one who has made it to the trials has spoken of them. We assume the Stone keeps them from sharing any information.”

“I’ll do it,” Twilight offered quickly, stepping forward. “I’ll try the trials.”

Hambar eyed Twilight critically. “Very well, I suppose you may. Just be aware that only one attempt can be made per day. And the challenger must have a light in them to rival the surrounding darkness.”

Wind didn’t know what made him do it, but he walked up and stood next to Twilight. “No, I want to try first,” he said, heart pounding in his throat. Twilight turned and looked at him, surprised, as if he hadn’t been expecting him to appear next to him. “This is my Hyrule,” he looked Twilight in the eye. “If I can’t, then you can try tomorrow.” He turned back to the Keeper. “But I want to try first.”

The Twili tilted his head and examined Wind for a moment. Wind felt as if he were staring into his very soul. “Is that okay with you, Dark One?” he asked. It took Wind a moment to realize that he was talking to Twilight.

“I suppose so,” Twilight said, looking at him. His gaze weighed heavily on Wind. “This is his era.”

“Very well,” Hambar consented, finally breaking eye contact. “Follow me.” The Keeper went to the carved door and placed his hand on a panel near it. It gave off a teal glow and the wall slid open to reveal a smooth, domed room beyond. The walls were a dark blue, specks of light shining like stars, repeated endlessly into a crystalline darkness. The image shimmered and moved as they walked, giving a soft glow to the floor below. A door was set into the wall on the far side, only the smallest hint of a seam indicating its presence. In the middle of the room was a beautiful, smooth white stone that shone at different points as if the stars were repeated inside it as well. The Moonstone, Wind realized. An obsidian statue of a Hylian woman knelt on the ground, her fingers seeming to caress it. Drops of water trickled from her empty stone eyes and fell off of petrified cheeks to be absorbed by the gem below. Wind suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You sure about this?” Warriors asked. “You don’t have to prove anything to us, you know.”

“I want to,” Wind replied quietly. “Besides, this is my Hyrule. I want to save these people, too.”

Warriors took a deep breath and released it before nodding once and removing his hand. “Okay. I trust you.”

The Twili didn’t protest as the others entered the room, but motioned Wind forward and instructed him to kneel on the ground as the woman was.

“Place your hand here on the Moonstone,” he instructed. “It will decide whether you are worthy or not. Good luck.”

Wind placed his hand on the mineral and slammed his eyes shut as light flashed suddenly from its core. He heard exclamations from the others as they, too, had to hide their eyes from the glare. There was a loud noise, like the pounding of a thousand thunderstorms, and then all was quiet.

He slowly blinked his eyes only to see, disappointed, his hand still on the stone, which had returned to its normal state. He looked around the room. The others were still rubbing their eyes, and the door had yet to open. He felt a large hand on his shoulder and felt himself being lifted up off the floor. Hambar was quiet as he led him and the rest of the group out and back into the main cave.

“Do not feel disappointed,” he said quietly. “Many have tried and many have failed.” He looked up from Wind. “There is always tomorrow, if any of you others wish to try,” he said as the Twili ambassadors slowly took their leave. “I will still be here.” There were little flashes of light as the Twili disappeared back to their Realm, and the others began to ascend the rope ladder once again. Wind was the only one left.

“What are you still doing here, Little Light?” the Keeper asked. He didn’t sound nearly as welcoming as before.

“I would still like to help,” Wind knew he wasn’t worthy, but there had to be something he could do. The Twili man seemed to consider his offer, and then nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “It is said there is a rare lily that only blooms under the light of the moon. The Moon’s Pail grows on a slender stem, with many tiny flowers. You can smell its fragrance easily on a warm night; it has a honey scent. It is many leagues from here, in the Brineback Swamp to the east. None of us dares to retrieve it, but it is a great medicine to our kind, and can even cure those of us who have been fatally burned by the sun. If you retrieve a couple for us, as well as a bulb or two to plant in the soil above, we may be able to hold up until this curse is lifted.”

Wind smiled brightly. He still had a chance. “Thank you so much!” he waved as he left, backing toward the entrance. “You won’t regret it!” And then he was following his companions to where they were congregated at the top of the cliff.

“We’ll head back to where we built our fire earlier. That way we’re still close and Linebeck will know where to find us when he returns,” Time was saying. The others looked his way when he came in view, quickly looking away when his eyes caught theirs. Wind’s heart sunk. They were ashamed of him. Warriors was the only one who kept eye contact. He moved to walk beside Wind as they made their way to camp.

“Hey, you aren’t feeling bad, are you?” he asked. “You did your best. We know it. They know it, too.”

Wind remained quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He swallowed the tight feeling in his throat and continued to walk forward.

“They’ve been trying for hundreds of years, and none of them were able to complete the trials.”

But at least some got admitted to them. Wind hadn’t even gotten that far.

“This is my Hyrule,” he said instead, “I’m supposed to be able to help them. What kind of a hero am I if I can’t?”

“You help in any way you can,” Warriors replied. “You aren’t a hero because you can lift a sword out of a stone. You’re a hero because your heart is in the right place and you want to help others. You put their needs before your own.”

Wind nodded, feeling the light inside him ignite anew. Warriors was right. He hadn’t been accepted into the trials, but he could still help the Twili. The others needed to stay close to see if they were worthy, but Wind didn’t. He already knew the decision of the stone, and now he had something better: he had something he could do other than sit around and see if a rock would think he was worthy of it. He could still help these people.

But he didn’t know how long he was going to be gone for, and the others needed to be nearby in case the stone chose them. When they got back to camp, he told Time that he was heading out to go exploring a bit. Time wanted someone to go with him, but Wind refused.

“Do you see anything out here?” It was a rhetorical question. “I know you’re worried, but I’m a hero, too, and I can take care of myself. If I’m not back by tomorrow morning, go ahead and try the trials without me. There’s something I need to do.”

“You should still take someone with you. It’s not like you’re planning on being gone more than eight days, are you?” Wind wasn’t planning on it, but it was entirely probable.

Wind shook his head anyway. “I want everyone here that can be. The stone might speak to one of you, and you may be their hope,” he said. “This is my era. These people are my responsibility, and the sooner they can get out of that cave, the better.” He hefted his pack over his shoulder and made eye contact with as many of them as possible. “Do this for me?”

Warriors looked troubled, but he said nothing. Time didn’t look like he approved, either, but nodded. “Fine. But I want you back within three days, or we’re going looking for you.”

That wasn’t as good as Wind had hoped, but it was better than nothing. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see you in a couple of days.�� Twilight’s blue eyes stared unnervingly at him as he turned around. He could feel them weighing heavily on his back. His own hubris had caused him to go before the elder teen, and may have made the Twili wait longer. But he would be back, and he wouldn’t disappoint them. He would amend his mistake, and help the people he’d failed.

He had to.

Wind travelled all day and stopped to rest only when night was falling. Thanks to journeying with the other Links for so long, he’d gotten used to walking long distances, and he was able to get a lot farther than he would have before. He ate some of the jerky stored away in his pack. Something he used to enjoy now just tasted like cardboard, but he didn’t know if it was because he’d been spoilt with Wild’s cooking, or if his earlier failure had taken the taste out. Either way, he couldn’t lose this opportunity. The Twili were counting on him, and he would do something to help them, even if he couldn’t free them completely.

Wind took a brief nap before continuing on in his easterly path. The moon had crested the horizon, and he thought he heard a wolf howl in the distance, but it could have been the wind. There was nothing but sparse grass and rock for miles. He wished for Wolfie, but it was unlikely that Wild’s companion was nearby. He would have to do this alone.

Wind tried to hum a jaunty pirate tune to get his mind off of his loneliness, but it ended up sounding more haunting than uplifting. His attempt died out quickly. He’d never really been alone during his travels, and it was odd to be so now. He wished there was someone to talk to. The heath stretched on for miles, becoming its own ocean as gusts caused the grasses to bend in waves. The smell of salt blew in from the ocean, even though it was a half an hour’s walk away. Everything here- it was so desolate. Wind wondered if this land was really better than the Twilight realm, but quickly brushed it off. If Hambar and his people were so desperate to get here, then it must be better. And the land wasn’t entirely untamable. Wind had seen the people of New Hyrule turn infertile tracts into lush gardens of vegetables and fields of grain. There was hope for the Twili yet.

He spotted a dark stain on the horizon, and squinted as if it would help him to better make out its shape. The moon was above it now, and its brightness was making it difficult to see.

It took thirty more minutes before he realized they were trees. Was this the swamp? Wind felt excitement race through him and broke into a run.

In eight minutes he was panting hard and his legs burned, but he was at the dark copse of trees. Anticipation rose in him as he entered. He would find the flowers here, he would bring them back, and he would help the people he’d failed. It was the least he could do.

Everything was noticeably darker after entering the woods. Wind had difficulty seeing his hand in front of his face, much less if there were any flowers around. He could no longer hear the howling gales, the sound being replaced by the hoots of owls in the branches and the groans and creaks of ancient trees. His heart pounded in his chest and his feet ached, but the Twili’s hope was ahead. He would find it, and he would bring it back to them.

The air here was stale and stunk of rotting vegetation. Mud appeared beneath his feet and began to suck at his boots. At one point he stepped in a particularly soft patch and ended up almost thigh-deep in it. He’d reached out and found a vine, which he used as leverage to pull himself out. After almost losing a boot, he was more careful to feel out his steps first.

Suddenly there was a snap of a twig behind him, and Wind turned quickly just in time to see a Lizalfos jump at him with a spear. Barely dodging, he slung his shield onto his arm and quickly retrieved his sword. It hissed and growled at him, coming back for another lunge. Wind had never seen one in his own world, and yet it distinctly was one of his, and not one of the others’. He didn’t know how he knew, and tried not to think too hard about it.

It hissed and jumped toward him. Wind blocked its blow and thrust his weapon toward its exposed belly, but it retreated quickly and he missed. Cursing under his breath, he readjusted his footing and readied himself for another attack. It came bounding toward him once more, and he struck just as it lifted its sword arm. It screamed in pain and he quickly pulled his blade out of its belly. There was a strangled roar behind him, and Wind turned in time to see another monster lunge for him.

Sweat began to dampen his hair as Wind fought, feinting and spinning to get a good angle on his attacker. As soon as he dispatched the one he was fighting, another materialized from the woods.

Luckily he was accustomed to their movements by now, and was able to finish the great lizard off much more quickly than he had the other two. Still, he stood there trying to catch his breath after the last one was downed. Wind was exhausted; the fight had taken a lot more out of him than he’d thought. He would need to rest soon, but not yet.

The breeze in the leaves above him rustled, and Wind turned his gaze to a glow he could now make out further in. Wearily, he trod forward through the soggy ground to see what it was revealing.

There, bathed in the soft light of the heavens, was the Moon’s Pail. The dainty flowers were facing up towards the great light, where it appeared that they were gathering the beams like a pail would collect water. Delicate petals were black on the outside and white on the inside, and they trembled as Wind ran a wondering hand over them. He picked one, and then another, and then another; until he had a handful of the sweet-smelling blooms. He left plenty in the clearing to repopulate, and dug up a few bulbs as well. Satisfied with his findings, he quickly put them back in his bag and began to head back west.

Getting out of the forest was much easier than going in had been, and once he was out on the heath Wind finally began to relax. There was nothing for miles around, and he decided to take another nap.

The nap ended up being more than a nap, as Wind awoke to light glaring in his face and a cool gust to his hair. Immediately he jumped up. He had to get to the others, and quickly!

Wind ran most of the way there, and began to shout as he neared the location of their camp. “Guys, I’m back! And I’ve got something for the Twili, too!” Wind gasped at the sight that greeted him when he crested the hill.

“No.” No. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t.

“Guys?” Wind hated the way his voice sounded. It was tiny and hurt, and nothing like the way he wanted to sound.

But his friends, his family…Wind ran down to the beach where they’d peacefully had lunch the day before. “Guys?” It was a slaughter. Red stained the sand below and bodies were twisted in painful positions. “Please,” he whispered. No one moved. His eyes roved desperately, trying to find a survivor. Time, Legend, Hyrule. Sky…. He hesitantly moved forward, his eyes filling with tears that blurred everything. Twilight, Four, Wild… No, someone had to live! Someone had to have escaped! Eight figures lay unmoving on the ground. What happened? Who could have done this, why didn’t they –

“Warriors?” His friend, his older brother was… Wind choked back a sob as he knelt in the sand beside the body. “Warriors?” He began to shake him by the shoulders, even though he knew it wouldn’t do anything. His bright blue eyes stared up into nothing. “C’mon, wake up. Please.” His voice cracked at the end, but he didn’t care. Hot tears spilled down his face, the ocean breeze doing little to calm him. His friends were gone.

“Link! Link!” Wind picked his head up at the call, and noticed Linebeck running on the beach toward him. The man stumbled slightly and his eyes widened at the sight in front of him. “What in Din’s name…?”

“They’re gone,” Wind choked. “I f-failed them, Linebeck. I shouldn’t have - have le-left.”

The sailor appeared horrified before he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Link.” Wind closed his eyes and shook his head, ducking it low to curl over his older brother figure. “But there’s trouble on Outset.” Wind felt his heart sink even lower than it had been before.

“What do yo-you mean?”

“A group of raiders has invaded, and the whole island is under siege. Tetra and the pirates are doing what they can, but Outset isn’t prepared to fight a veritable army.”

“I’ll go.” The Twili could get their flowers at any time.

“What about them?” Linebeck asked quietly, gesturing to-.

Wind closed his eyes and turned his head. “I might be able to save Grandma and Aryll,” he said. “I’m too late for –.” The last part came out as barely even a whisper. He was too much of a coward to even finish the sentence. He stood swiftly, brushing the tears from his eyes. There would be time to mourn later. For now, he tried to think of the family he was going to save, and not the one he was too late for. Not the one that he was leaving to bake in the sun.

Wind gently closed Warriors’s eyes, and turned to go with Linebeck.

It was evening by the time they got to Outset. Wind saw the smoke before he saw the land, great billows of it rising into the air and blackening out the sky above. If there were any flames there before, they were already gone. The skeletons of houses stood eerily above a beach littered with bodies. Linebeck cursed as Wind dove overboard, forgetting his pack aboard the ship. He wasn’t an amazing swimmer, but he was semi-decent. The need to see his family overrode any concern about his own wellbeing.

Wind had no idea how he got to the shore before Linebeck, but he did. Soaked and shivering, he searched for any sign of his sister or grandmother. “Grandma! Aryll?” he cried, panting as he looked for any signs of life among the wreckage. Cannonballs left troughs from where they plowed into the sand. Limbs and weapons and gore littered the ground, but Wind ignored all of it. “Aryll? Little sister?” he called desperately. “Grandma!” Then he saw it: a little sandal under some collapsed roofing where there house had once been. Wind grunted as he pushed the boards up and heaved them to the side. “Aryll?” Her face was turned upwards toward the sky with a peaceful expression. Blood puddled underneath her head, and in the moonlight her skin appeared as veined marble. When Wind’s tentative fingers brushed her cheek, it was as soft as the Moon’s Pail’s petals and as cold as ice. He used the back of his hand to gently wipe away the trickle of blood that had crept from the corner of her mouth. No breath left her lips. His grandmother lay nearby, her neck twisted as if she was looking out to the open sea.

“At least they died together,” a voice came from behind him. Wind spun to see her, covered in sweat and blood that wasn’t her own, her face wet with tears. “But you were gone. You weren’t here.”

“Tetra?” He hated the tremor that came out with the word.

“You failed them, Link.” Her voice was hard as the tempered edge of a cutlass. “Where were you?”

“I was…” he trailed off.

“You were nowhere to be found,” she snapped, her lower lip trembling and her voice breaking like fine china dashed against the surf. “I sent messages by bird, by ship, by train, but you were nowhere.”

“I…I didn’t know,” he said pathetically.

“Do you know?” Tetra rubbed hard at her eyes, hiding them behind her forearm. “Do you know that they were hoping for you? They were looking for you to come out of the ocean and rescue them, even when the raiders began to fire at the houses with their cannons.”

“No,” Wind said, shaking his head, but not in answer to her question. He closed his eyes. This couldn’t be real. This can’t have happened. Tears were soaking his cheeks and dripping from his chin, turning the ashes to mud below him.

“Even when the raiders came into the houses, murdering and looting, they said, ‘Link will come. He won’t forget us. He’s our big brother, our grandson. He won’t leave us to die!’”

“Please, stop,” he whispered. He didn’t want to hear anymore.

“And where did their hope in you get them?” He looked up as she stayed quiet. She shuddered and turned to look Wind in the eye.

“Please-se, Tetra,” he sobbed.

“They begged, too.” It came out dead. “And they locked them in the house and set it on fire. If it weren’t for a misfire on the part of one of the raiders’ ships, they would have burned alive.”

“Don’t,” he choked, “don’t. Please.”

“I can’t even bear to look at you,” she said, turning her face from him. The sound of footsteps in the sand broke up the sound of waves lapping at the beach below them. “Linebeck,” she said, her voice leaving her mouth as cold and hard as coffin nails. “Take him with you.”

“Tetra, please.” He didn’t have much left. At least let him bury his dead, see to it that they were cared for and loved.

“Your Majesty?”

The pirate captain shuddered. “I never want to see him again. Take him back to that island, to whatever was more important than his own people, and leave him there.”

“Zelda, please.” The words came out tiny and broken, just like him. She turned slightly toward him, and Wind thought for a moment she might change her mind.

“Goodbye, Link.” And then she was walking down the beach toward the hull of her broken ship.

“C’mon, kid,” Linebeck said gently, guiding him by the elbow. Wind felt numb as he was led back toward the ocean and onto the deck of the steamship. Linebeck left him to himself, busying himself across the ship and guiding it out into open waters.

It was noon by the time they reached the dead island. Linebeck was quiet as he anchored the ship, and some distant part of Wind was glad he’d landed further down the beach instead of where his friends had been slaughtered. He moved robotically, grabbing his things and walking off the gangplank and onto the sand. Salt had crusted in his hair; muddy ashes had caked on his shins. His lashes were frosted with minerals from the swim and his own tears. His eyes were itchy and swollen as Linebeck came beside him and enveloped him in a warm hug. Wind didn’t have the energy to lift his arms to return it.

“It’ll be okay, kid,” Linebeck pressed his lips to the top of Wind’s head. “It’ll be okay.”

Wind was unable to process much as Linebeck released his shoulders and, giving a final pat, turned to his ship. The almost fourteen year old watched as the vessel got smaller and smaller until it disappeared over the horizon.

The pack hadn’t been on his back when he’d dived into the water. Wind took it out, not sure what he was going to do; maybe look for the telescope Aryll had given him (he needed something to-), when he noticed the Moon’s Pail inside, somehow still as fresh as they had been when he picked them. Tears prickled at his eyes and he sniffed. Was this what he got for helping others? For being a hero? If it was, he didn’t want any part of it.

“You might not be able to help them, but you can still help someone,” a calm voice spoke in front of him. Wind looked up, just to see Four’s figure fading from view, his face looking over his shoulder at the cliffs behind him.

“Wait, Four!” but the smaller hero was gone. Wind wiped his face for what felt like the thousandth time that day. Four, or his memory of Four, or that illusion, or whatever-it-was was right. The Twili were still relying on him. The people he loved were gone or had left him, but the Twili could still have happiness. They could still have hope. Something good had to come out of this.

Steadying his breath, Wind picked himself up off the ground. A breeze blew through his stiff hair and rustled his crusty clothing. He could do this. He could help the Twili, even if it was with this. He could still have hope for them. And then…

Stumbling up the hill, Wind somehow made it to the top of the cliff. The rope ladder was exactly as he’d remembered it, and he descended it carefully, making sure not to lose the precious cargo on his back.

Entering the cave, he once more blinked his eyes to try to get them to adjust. “You look terrible.” Wind was just able to recognize the voice as that of the Keeper’s.

He didn’t have any words for him in response.

Instead, Wind took out the flowers in his pack as well as the bulbs that could potentially save so many lives.

“The Moon’s Pail!” the Twili exclaimed. “Where did you find it? Never mind, never mind. I’ll put them in a cool dry place and we can plant them tomorrow.” The Guardian of the cave held out a long, pale hand. Wind normally would have felt some sort of accomplishment, but now he only felt exhaustion. He wanted to curl up in a corner of the cave and sleep until everything made sense, or everyone was back as they should be. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he reached forward and handed the plants to Hambar. He knew, somehow, that what he’d done was incredibly important to these people. It could bring them light.

As soon as the flowers touched the Keeper’s hands there was a loud crack, and the carved stone door slid open to reveal the room beyond. And beyond that…

“The door is opened!” Hambar exclaimed. “Well, that’s certainly never happened before. No one has bypassed the Moonstone.”

Wind should have felt excitement, but he didn’t feel anything except relief. There was still hope yet. He could save the Twili still. He looked at the Keeper expectantly, wondering if he was going to protest him beginning the trials. Hambar’s eyes bored into his own.

“It’s up to you, Little Light,” he said. “Retrieve our Daystar.” Wind just nodded, and Hambar offered to him the natural spring in the back of the cave to refill his water bottle at. Wind did so, washing his face and hands in the refreshing flow, as well as refilling his flask after drinking water from it several times over. Feeling a little bit more human and a lot more refreshed, he approached the entrance to the Trials.

He entered the dark room, and the door slammed shut behind him. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure if he could do this. “You can do this, little brother,” Warriors was suddenly in front of him, as bright and fresh as he had been when he was alive. “I believe in you.” He reached a hand forward as if to ruffle his hair, but faded away before he made contact. Wind’s eyes filled, but he nodded. He would complete the Trials. He may not have hope for himself, but he still had some for the Twili.

He walked forward hesitantly, gripping his blade tightly as he saw a strange blue glow down the dark hallway. The light took shape as he came into a large chamber, and before him was the huffing steaming creature he had fought most recently. “Malladus,” he whispered, horror warring with anger. How was this demon alive again? He didn’t care. He would kill it and make sure it left this earth for good.

Wind charged forward with a yell, keeping his shield in front of him and his sword ready to swing. Malladus sped forward as well, intent on skewering the boy on his horns.

The young teen leapt at the last second, vaulting up and over the beast’s head and driving his sword into the weak spot on the creature’s back; or, at least, he tried to. Instead of going through like he wanted, the sword bounced harmlessly off of scaled skin. Wind gasped. The last time he’d fought it, he’d had Tetra’s help. Now he was on his own. The demon reached a large, clawed hand over him and tore him from its back, throwing him into the cave wall. Wind shook his head, trying to keep the room from spinning and quickly jumped out of the way before it got to him, causing it to ram into the wall. While it was down, Wind lifted his sword and again aimed for the jewel between its horns. He prepared to strike down with all his might, but the beast recovered more quickly than he was expecting and swung one of its horns at Wind’s side. Wind was just a bit too slow, and didn’t get his shield up fast enough. He screamed in agony and shoved the Phantom Sword into Malladus’s eye. It was a small target, and it was a dirty move, but it did the trick. The demon jerked back with a roar, Wind’s screams joining him as blood began to flow more freely. He was barely standing, holding the hole in his side with his shield arm while raising his bloody sword in a tremulous grasp. He stood at the ready, waiting for the beast to notice him and charge again, but it didn’t. It pawed at its face, and Wind realized it must still think the sword was in its eye. He himself was feeling weak and exhausted from the fight and lack of sleep, but he would finish this. He would finish this and retrieve the Daystar for the Twili.

The beast began to ram its face blindly into the walls, and Wind approached it slowly, trying to keep his insides in. He shivered as he watched it bash its skull into the sides over and over again. It stumbled and fell to the ground, its head lying low as it tried to catch its breath. Wind felt a flash of pity as he lifted his weapon and shoved it as hard as he could through its ruby-encrusted forehead. The demon shuddered once and then stilled, stiffening and crumbling into dust. Wind sighed and collapsed to his knees.

A door banged in the distance and Wind flinched. Peeling open his eyes, he saw a tall, dark, robed figure walk through. He struggled to rise, but didn’t make it halfway before he was knocked to the floor again.

“I would stay down, if I were you.” Wind froze. He recognized that voice. The fine tremble in his arms intensified tenfold. “I have plenty of malice for the one that entombed me in stone at the bottom of the sea.” No. No. How? How could this monster still be alive? He’d killed him. He’d shoved a sword through his skull and covered him with water and left his corpse leagues below the surface. How was he here?

“Bow like the insect you are,” the false king growled, “and I will spare your life.”

“No,” he said, choking around a glob of blood. He managed to make it unsteadily to his feet, and spit at Ganondorf’s boots. “I will never bow to you.”

“Very well,” Ganondorf said, “then perish.”

Wind had every intention of fighting that monster then and there, but his body had other ideas. The Gerudo swung a meaty fist at his face, and all went black.

When Wind next blinked open his eyes, he was in a prison cell. He didn’t move. He didn’t even twitch. Rather, he just allowed himself to breathe, to hear the rush of air in and out of his lungs. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep and wake up again with everyone alive and well. Wind’s eyes pricked with tears. So much had been taken from him, so quickly; he hadn’t had time to process it. It wasn’t fair.

“So what, you just gonna lie there and give up?” a voice snarked. Wind lifted his eyes to see a transparent Legend looking at him from where he was leaning on the wall. “Doesn’t sound like a hero to me.”

“I don’t know if I want to be a hero.” His voice was scratchy, like it had been overused.

Legend rolled his eyes. “No one wants to be a hero kid. At least, no one that’s been doing it for a long time does. Heroism is selflessness. It’s putting others first. It’s hard, and you can bet your bucket that it’s gonna drag you down and feed on you ‘till there’s nothing left. But you know what?” Wind shook his head. This was the longest that any of the “ghosts” had spoken to him. “It’s worth it. It’s worth every bit of pain that comes to you, to save someone, to protect a life and give them a future. Don’t give up, Wind.” And then he was gone.

He was right, Wind realized belatedly. People’s lives alone were worth the fight. Lying here, feeling sorry for himself, wasn’t going to help anyone. He tried to push himself up to his knees, but he couldn’t; he still had a gaping wound in his side, and if he didn’t get help soon, he would die.

“Hey, Wind,” a voice quietly came from right next to him. “Hold still, I might be able to help.”

“H-Hyrule?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, slender fingers moving to the gouge in Wind’s side. “You’re one tough kid, you know that?”

“I- what are you doing?” Sparks danced from Hyrule’s fingers, and he moved them gently over the wound. It slowly closed up, until an angry scab was all that was left.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more,” Hyrule said, smiling at him. “But this should hold ‘till you finish the rest of the trial.”

Wind felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes. Again. He was so weak.

“Hey, hey, hey; you’re strong, Wind. Just remember, where there’s life, there’s hope.” He shot Wind a smile.

The younger teen huffed out a laugh. “That’s so lame.” Hyrule just smiled and stood up. Wind got to his legs shakily.

“Door’s unlocked,” Hyrule informed him. “Good luck.” And then he was gone.

Wind cautiously opened the door to his cell, cringing as it creaked loudly. But no one came to investigate the noise, so he went ahead and stepped out.

The corridor was eerily quiet, his shuffling echoing off the stone walls. He followed it until he came to a large, open room. He quickly swallowed his fear and drew his sword. The dark king was there, his back turned to the door, his face set toward a shining bright stone sitting upon a pedestal. Wind felt anger rise up inside him at the sight. No. Ganondorf had ruined enough lives. Wind was going to stop him where he was.

As silently as possible, Wind came up behind the monster and stabbed at his unsuspecting back. Cape parted and steel met steel in a clash as the Gerudo matched Wind’s sword thrust with a block of his own. “Thought you could sneak up on me, little ship rat?” he growled. “I will show you what true revenge looks like.” And with that he shoved the young teen backward with his sword.

Wind blocked and parried as he was forced back to the wall. He gritted his teeth. He had to fight; he had to win. If he didn’t… well, he wouldn’t think about that. He would make sure he won. The Twili were counting on him.

Suddenly Ganondorf moved. Wind went to block the strike, but it was a trick. Instead he was on the receiving end of a great fist to the stomach. His air whooshed out of his lungs, and he was thrown back several yards. Hyrule’s healing had covered his wound, but it hadn’t replenished the lost blood. The exhaustion was catching up with him and making him sloppy. That sloppiness had cost him.

Wind moved to get up, but the monster placed a heavily-booted foot on his chest, forcing him down. He gasped for air, but the dark king just pressed harder.

“Pathetic,” he growled. “I expected more of a threat, but you are just a puppy. You’ve lost your touch.” Desperate, Wind swung his sword and pierced Ganondorf’s leg through. He roared, jerking his limb back and freeing it from the blade.

Wind sat up and took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand on two feet. “I’ve already beaten you once. I can do it again.” The man snarled in rage and rushed forward. Wind had no time to dodge before his large hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing the life out of him. Suddenly Ganondorf swung downward, bashing his head against the hard stone floor, and Wind’s sword clanged as it bounced away. Then he was slammed hard again. Again. Again.

Wind was dazed. Where was he? What was he doing? Where was his sword? Why was his side warm and sticky? He gasped as a knee pressed into his sternum and the sound of metal being dragged menacingly across the stone floor got louder and louder until the source came to rest by his ear. A giant face moved down to whisper in the other one.

“There is something you should know, before I kill you,” Ganondorf whispered. “Darkness always wins. It wins in the hearts of everyone. No one dies with hope.” Wind grasped with his hand, and felt something hard and smooth under his palm. His sword! Ganondorf kept his head low as he positioned his blade for a final blow. “Goodbye, little hero.” Steel cleaved flesh, and with a strangled gurgle, a heart stopped. All was heavy and silent...

…

Wind’s eyes opened. Something hot and viscous was flowing down the back of his hands. With a sigh, the giant body fell toward him, and Wind barely had the strength to push the knee off and shove the corpse away as he rolled from it.

And he promptly threw up.

There wasn’t much in his stomach but water and blood. The past … day? Day and a half?... had been so harrowing that he couldn’t stop the tears from pouring out. It felt like a lifetime. He was so tired, so weak; blood loss and exhaustion had overtaken him. He supported himself on shaking limbs, the Phantom Sword still lodged in the Gerudo king’s jaw. He left it there.

Suddenly his arms gave out beneath him, and he landed in the puddle of bile and blood that had left his body. The sound of footsteps drew near, and he tried to track the sound with his eyes.

“C’mon, Wind. Get up;” it was Sky, his soft voice echoing through the chamber. He knelt down and peered into Wind’s face. “Wake up. Complete your journey.”

“You’re almost done, kid.” That was Twilight. What was he doing here? “You’re so close to finishing.” Wait? Where had Sky gone? No, he was dead. So was Twilight.

“I can’t,” he cried. “Not- not as good as you…” It was hard to catch his breath, and he felt himself slipping. “’M not as s-strong as you or Time, not as sm-mart as Four or Hyrule…hhuuhh… I don’t have Leg-en’s ‘sperience… or Sky’s, Warriors’s, and Wild’s…skills…. ’M a failure…. Failed you. You’re dead because of me. Can’t do it.” Everything hurt so badly.

“Sure you can,” Wild’s voice sounded as deerskin shoes came into view. Wind turned his head, just to try to catch a glimpse of his face. “You have to. You have to remember. We can’t do this, only you can. You have to fight for us. Live for us.”

Wind struggled to get to his knees again. The pedestal was still there, holding the Daystar which pulsed with life. It was the last beacon in the dark- the last hope of the Twili.

But he didn’t know if he could get to it.

He managed to prop himself up on his hands and knees, his shirt hanging heavily with bile and blood. He had failed the others. It only made sense that he would fail the Twili just as easily. He wasn’t even crying, now. He was out of tears.

“Wind,” a voice gently spoke. It was Time. He waited to continue until Wind met his eye. “You, Wind, are our hope, even in the worst of times. You are our light. Shine for us.” Wind tried to draw in a deep breath, but it came out sounding more like a hiccough. He tried again, and somehow, miraculously, got to his feet. He was shaking so badly he wondered how he hadn’t toppled over. But it was nothing in relation to the light ahead of him. His skull was throbbing behind his eyes, its cacophony drowning out all but the music of the gem. The pain in his side was just a scratch in the face of the Hope ahead. Sounds of his own blood “plip”-ing against the stone floor went ignored; he was concerned with something greater than himself. He stepped forward. Once, twice, thrice, until he came to the altar of the Daystar.

He prayed that this would bring hope to the Twili. He prayed that, when it was over, he might be with his friends and family again.

It wasn’t the most graceful of movements. In fact, it was a sloppy thing, a jerky motion that even a toddler would be ashamed of. His left arm flailed out, and his fingers brushed its corona.

The world exploded into light, a high pitched ringing sounding through his ears and consuming his very being.

Then, it was just light.

…

Then, there were fingers running through his hair, and a familiar voice in his ear.

…

Then, the light faded, and he realized his eyes were closed, a warm breeze blowing in his face.

Then, he opened his eyes to Warriors’s concerned face and a canopy of eternal stars. A quiet glow was coming from nearby, adding softness to his features.

“Hey, little bro. Nice to see your baby blues again.” His smile was white and brilliant, perfect as always.

“Warriors?” The elder’s hand came into view as he withdrew it, and Wind realized it had been his fingers that had been playing with his hair. “Y’re dead.”

Warriors’s expression twisted into confusion. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, y’are. Saw it. Were… all bloody. I clos’d y’r eyes.”

“What?”

“How’ryu – alive?”

Warriors looked at him, flabbergasted. Wind was too tired for this. He slowly shut his eyes. And then opened them again.

“’M I dead?” he whispered. “Sorry,” he apologized as Warriors seemed to grow more agitated. “Just wished to be with you guys. But where’s Aryll? Grandma?”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about,” Warriors replied.

Something was off here. Wind wasn’t sure what it was, but it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps Warriors wasn’t a ghost. And maybe this wasn’t the afterlife, either.

Wind squinted, and tried to sit up. Warriors gently pressed down on his chest. “Whoa, easy there. You just finished the Trials; you shouldn’t try to get up too fast.”

Wind glanced over. Under his left hand was the Moonstone, smooth and unblemished and bright. And holding it was the statue of the Hylian lady, but she was no longer crying.

“What? I don’t understand.”

“You finished the Trials of Sorrow.” Wind turned his head towards the other voice, which happened to belong to Four, who was walking over with Wind’s blanket. He had a pleased smile on his face. He draped it over the younger’s body, and Wind removed his hand from the oblong orb. “Congratulations!”

“I –” Wind’s voice was shaking, “I don’t understand. You guys were killed. I wasn’t there to be with you.”

“Wind,” Four said slowly, his brow furrowing, “we’ve been here this whole time. You never left the cave.”

“What?” he asked. “But what about my failure to activate the Trial? And the Moon’s Pail? Remember, I told you guys I would be gone for a couple of days?”

The other two shook their heads.

“You – you’re not dead,” he murmured, realization slowly sinking in. Then a giant grin spread across his face. “You’re not dead!” He repeated, and flung his arms around Warriors’s shoulders. Warriors’s breath came out in a whoof, but he quickly reciprocated the hug. Four placed a hand on his shoulder.

“No, we’re not dead,” he said, humor lacing his words. “And you were amazing! You pushed through to the end, even when it got tough! Once you completed the Trials, that door over there opened and the Daystar ignited. It flew to where the Twili were waiting and immediately transformed the ones here to be able to live in the Light world! Now they can live on this land without fear of dying from exposure to the sun!”

“Alright, Four, I think Wind’s been overwhelmed enough,” Time said, amused. “Let’s get back to the others.”

“Can you walk?” Warriors asked, helping Wind to his feet. Time went ahead with Four to tell their companions.

“I-I think so,” he said. “How long was I out?”

“Oh, it took you pretty much an entire day to complete the trials, if not longer. I dunno, it’s kind of hard to tell, time passes strangely in here,” Warriors looked around the room as if it made him feel a little lost. “But, after about…mmm…two thirds of the way through, we were allowed to help you.”

“Help me?”

“Yeah. We could see a little bit of what was happening in that moment, and sort of ‘coach’ you, but our time was limited and we usually couldn’t do much. You were allowed more and more help as time passed, but we could only help you once.”

“I…didn’t know that. Now it all makes sense,” Wind muttered.

“After you finished the trials, you slept for another six hours. And, well, here you are!”

“I finished the trials?” Wind asked.

“Yeah, kid.”

“And the Twili, they…they got their promised land?”

“Uh huh.”

“Oh,” a small grin began to break out on Wind’s face. “I guess things really worked out pretty well then, huh?”

“I guess so.”

When they left the cave, Twilight was chatting with some of the Twili, whose appearances had changed slightly, but not drastically. He was asking if they knew a “Midi,” or something, and the ambassadors were starting to look at him suspiciously.

Hambar noticed him, and approached with a wide grin and welcoming arms. “Our hero!” he exclaimed. “Link, of the Wind, you have brought light back into our hearts.” He clasped hands with Wind, and shook them vigorously. “Now we can claim the land the goddesses gave us, and build a better future!”

“I – it was my honor,” Wind said warmly.

There was a large celebration that day, with Wind named their Hero and the excitement over the new land. The Daystar had risen to rest high above the party, and they all got to rest as the festivities ensued. Linebeck came sometime during the day, and it seemed he got into some sort of argument with the Twili, because they were soon watching wrestling matches and other good-natured competitions between the Hylians and the Twili. It was only after day had become night and then day again that they said their good-byes to the Twilit race and found themselves back on Linebeck’s ship.

“Where are we headed now?” Linebeck was covered with necklaces of smoky quartz and obsidian, gifts the Twili had bestowed on him from their realm. In return, he’d given them a variety of rupees. They seemed fascinated with the colored jewels.

“Let’s go home. I’m missing Aryll and Grandma,” Wind replied.

“Very well then,” Linebeck answered. “To Outset!”

They arrived at nightfall, and the entire group was welcomed kindly and lovingly. Wild got Grandma’s soup recipe, and Four showed Aryll where the Picori liked to hide. Everyone enjoyed themselves, but were exhausted.

Tetra had heard Wind was back, for now, and had come to visit as well. He inquired about setting up a defense for the island, in case they were ever invaded. She’d given him a funny look, but when he’d asked again, voice quivering, she’d relented and promised him she’d get something together.

They stayed busy enough that Wind’s sleep was dreamless.

Eventually the time came for them to leave. Wind was incredibly anxious the whole time. He’d hugged his grandmother and sister and had made them promise to stay safe.

“You do the same, Link,” Grandma had said. “Take care of yourself.”

He tried to stall as long as possible, but eventually goodbyes were said and the group moved on to their next adventure.

Then came the nightmares. Wind often found himself jolting awake in a cold sweat, the names of his family on his lips. Many nights he never slept at all, leaving him dead on his feet and sloppy in the field. Warriors and Wolfie had begun to lay down next to him in an attempt to get him to drift off. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

One of those nights he was tired of tossing and turning and got up to sit by the fire. Legend was on watch at the time and noticed. The older teen sat down next to him and examined him for a very long time. Then he looked away. “Do you remember,” his fingers darted to his head and then back to his lap as if he didn’t know where they belonged, “what I told you? When you were sitting in the Trial’s cell, waiting for Ganondorf to return?”

Wind turned to look at him curiously.

Legend turned his eyes toward him. Wind, for the first time noticed the bags. He wondered what had happened to Legend that he still was unable to rest. “When you decide to become a hero; and I don’t mean that ��chosen by Hylia’ or ‘the goddesses’ crud, because that isn’t what a hero is; when you decide to become a hero, you decide to give up your own happiness for the wellbeing of others. Terrible things happen to you, like they happen to everybody, but you paint a bigger target on your back than anyone else, because you’re blocking most of their blows. Ugh, I’m not good at this.” Legend took a deep breath and looked somewhere above Wind’s eye-line. “I guess what I’m saying is, is that misfortune is what we get for being heroes. But you gotta believe it’s worth something, that it has…meaning, if it means saving people, y’know?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Wind said. He didn’t know if this was supposed to make him feel better or not.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’m not good at this comforting stuff. It doesn’t get better, but it does get easier. And as you grow older, the scar won’t fade or get any smaller, but you’ll grow bigger and bigger until you’re bigger than it.” Legend raised his arms as if to demonstrate, and Wind giggled. Legend rolled his eyes. “Never mind. Get some rest, kid. We’ll be lookin’ out for ya.” He got up and began to walk back to his watch post.

“Wait, Legend?” Wind called. Legend stopped. “Thanks. And you know, you can enjoy things, too. Just ‘cause you put others first, doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.”

Legend’s face softened. “Alright kid. I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Wind.”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning Wind woke up to Warriors sprawled out beside him, drooling into his pillow. Despite his anxiety the night before, a smile grew on his face. His family was alive, his friends were alive, and an entire people had been saved. He could rest easy knowing that.

… And so he shut his eyes again, and did.

#linkeduniverse #Wind-centric #discord prompt hope #stupidlong #too long #first fanfic in a long time #minor editing we nearly die like Links #so much research #legend of zelda

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tessajayne18 · 6 years ago

Text

Wolf with Silver Eyes (Chapter 18)

Summary: Byun Baekhyun is an established detective in a world full of supernatural creatures. His life takes a turn when he transfers to a new town as one of the only humans in the town. Everything appears as normal as it can be until a mysterious group plagues the town. Will Baekhyun be able to solve this case or will a pseudo-deity put a stop to it?

Early in the morning, Baekhyun ran around frantically in his apartment. Visions of the events from several hours ago haunted his mind. He quickly took a shower, got dressed, and grabbed his keys and left for the hospital. His mind ran with several thoughts as he drove. A few moments later, he arrived and ran in.

“Good morning, how can I help you?” the nurse smiled at Baekhyun.

“Can you tell me what room Oh Kami is in?” Baekhyun asked, charm turned all the way up.

The nurse faintly blushed as she checked her chart. “She’s in room 1213 on the fifth floor,” she answered.

“Thank you very much,” Baekhyun smiled as he walked toward the elevator.

He waited patiently for the elevator to take him to the fifth floor. Once the elevator stopped and opened, he briskly walked to find the room he was looking for. He found the room and he carefully pushed open the door. He was greeted with the sight of Kami sleeping peacefully in the bed and Anaise playing a video game on her Nintendo DS in the chair across the room. Anaise looked up and immediately tensed up.

“I don’t suppose you would like to be alone with your girlfriend now,” Anaise coldly stated as she saved her game and shut it off.

“I just want to know why in the hell you shot her,” Baekhyun darkly replied.

“I already told you it was an accident,” Anaise shot back as she grabbed her bag and walked toward Baekhyun. “Are you upset that I was right about Kami?”

“I’m upset by a lot of things, and, frankly, you don’t need to know,” Baekhyun snapped.

“I’m not demanding to know, but since I’m here to work together with you—”

“All we ever do is argue non-stop about this case. What part of all of this is working together?!” Baekhyun interrupted as his voice was starting to get louder.

Anaise took a deep breath to control her emotions. “Fine. You do whatever you please. I’ll see you at the office,” she bitterly said as she stormed out of the hospital room.

Baekhyun released a sigh as he sat down in the chair and watched over Kami. He immersed himself in deep thoughts to pass the time while Kami slept.

Jongdae and Chanyeol were casually chatting while waiting for the others to arrive in the office. They were chuckling about a joke when Anaise stormed into the office. Jongdae glanced at Chanyeol and both of them grew concerned.

Chanyeol hopped up and walked over toward Anaise. “Hey you, everything alright?” he politely asked. Anaise stayed silent as she pulled out her notes. “I’ll take that as a no,” he awkwardly said.

“Sorry, Chanyeol, I’m just trying to stay focused,” Anaise replied as she looked up at him. “Don’t want to ruin everything we’ve all worked on.”

“Technically we haven’t started working yet, would you like a moment to vent?” Chanyeol politely suggested.

“I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine,” Anaise showed a sad smile.

“You’re not a very good liar, you know,” Chanyeol chuckled softly.

“I’m actually a very good liar,” Anaise chuckled. “I didn’t bluff my way to win a hundred thousand dollars in a poker tournament three years ago for nothing.”

“Makes sense,” Chanyeol chuckled. “In that case… I just read your bluff. I can tell you’re not fine.”

Anaise started to reply, but Baekhyun walked in the door. He made eye contact with Anaise for a brief moment before walking to his desk. Chanyeol sensed the tension between Baekhyun and Anaise. He patted her shoulder as he walked over to talk to Baekhyun. Anaise sighed as she wrote down a few more notes. She glanced up at Jongdae who was looking at her with a concerned expression. She quickly looked away to keep writing in her notebook.

“Alright everyone,” Junmyeon called out as he walked out of his office. “Now that we know the identity of Silver Eyes, where do we go from here?”

“We talk to Miss Kami and see what connection she has with Wonbin,” Chanyeol suggested.

“It’s pretty clear that Wonbin wants her, we could use her help in possibly locating him,” Irene added.

“Any word on her condition?” Junmyeon asked as he marked on the whiteboard.

“If her vitals look normal, she could go home today. The hospital should notify us when she’ll be discharged,” Baekhyun answered.

“As soon as she gets discharged, we need to send someone to make sure Wonbin doesn’t make a move since she’s the most vulnerable while she’s injured,” Junmyeon replied.

“It’s almost doubtful Wonbin would make a move right away,” Anaise stated. “If I were him, I would anticipate the cops trying to protect the one I’m after.”

“That’s a good point, but we can’t be too lax,” Junmyeon replied.

“I volunteer mister smooth talker over there to talk to Kami when she’s out of the hospital. He might be the best bet to get her to cooperate and talk,” Jongdae said as he motioned toward Baekhyun.

“Although she can be a little stubborn, I agree with Jongdae. Baek should go,” Chanyeol agreed.

“It’s settled then. Once we get word, Baekhyun will go to Kami and everyone else, keep checking the files for any other connections on where we could possibly find Wonbin,” Junmyeon commanded.

“Yes, sir!”

Junmyeon looked around and noticed the blatant tension between Baekhyun and Anaise. He walked over to Jongdae and Chanyeol’s desk to address the situation…

Baekhyun released a sigh as he pulled up to Kami and Wendy’s house. He collected his thoughts before shutting off his car. He walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. He waited a few moments before Wendy opened the door.

“She’s resting right now, and she isn’t in the mood to talk to any detective,” Wendy said before trying to shut the door.

Baekhyun lunged forward to stop the door from shutting completely. “Good, because I’m here to talk to her as her boyfriend,” he replied.

Wendy took a moment to contemplate her next decision. She calmly closed the door, and Baekhyun waited for what came next. A few moments later, the door opened again, but Kami was at the door. “Hey…” she quietly greeted.

“Let’s sit, you’re probably hurting pretty good,” Baekhyun suggested as he held out an arm to help her walk to the steps.

Both of them sat on the top step and sat in silence for a few moments. Kami took a deep breath and started speaking nervously and said, “I understand that you’re mad at me…”

“Who said I was mad?” Baekhyun interrupted calmly.

Kami looked up at Baekhyun, tears beginning to fill her eyes. “You’re not mad?” she asked.

“Am I upset and disappointed? Yes. But am I mad? No,” Baekhyun replied. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were a werewolf?”

“I was just really scared…” Kami answered. “Typically anyone who figures out how much power I have, they either run away or try to use my power for their own personal gain. With Wonbin being after me, I was just so stressed I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid, since you were a detective, you would leave…”

“Why would I do that?” Baekhyun grabbed Kami’s hand and smiled gently. “I’m hurt that you didn’t tell me everything. I understand that you were scared, but there’s no way to know how I’ll react if you don’t tell me. If you were just honest with me, I wouldn’t have cared.”

“But your case,” Kami protested.

“What about it?” Baekhyun blankly asked.

Kami looked away as the tears spilled out of her eyes. “Doesn’t it change anything that I’m the center piece to this case?” she asked.

Baekhyun reached over and grabbed Kami’s chin and turned her to look him in the eyes. “That just means I have to do all that I can to make sure you’re safe, more than I already do,” he answered.

“But I can handle myself… I don’t need to be protected,” Kami protested.

“I know you can handle yourself… but you don’t have to hold this burden all by yourself,” Baekhyun replied. “You’re strong, smart, and beautiful on top of everything. I don’t know if I could even live with myself if you got hurt.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of my shitty family history,” Kami replied.

Baekhyun carefully wiped away Kami’s tears and said, “I’m more than willing to throw myself into a fire if it means keeping you safe.” He smiled as he looked into her eyes. “It’s crazy… in such a short amount of time, you manage to snatch up my heart and run away with it,” he said.

Kami chuckled and replied, “That’s kind of cheesy.”

“It got you to smile, didn’t it?” Baekhyun chuckled with her. “You know I love you, right?”

Kami immediately stopped chuckling and stared at Baekhyun questioningly. “You what?” she asked.

“You’ve got good hearing right?” Baekhyun smirked. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“Shush,” Kami pouted. “If you must know… I love you, too.”

“Do you?” Baekhyun smiled as he leaned in closer.

“You may not be a werewolf, but you’ve got good hearing, too,” Kami laughed right before she quickly moved to kiss him. She pulled away and smiled.

Baekhyun mirrored her smile. A thought had crossed his mind and he asked, “I need to ask you something though… All your little quirks were because you’re a werewolf, right?”

“And by quirks you mean?” Kami replied.

“Your over-appreciation for meat,” Baekhyun started listing.

“Meat is delicious!” Kami playfully protested.

“Your fast reflexes and your ability to use them on the ball field,” Baekhyun added.

“I’m not the best player on my team for nothing,” Kami commented.

“And the reason you ran from that party was because you were transforming,” Baekhyun added again.

“Yep, my ears are typically first when I shift, but since they were exposed with the way my hair was, I couldn’t hide it very well,” Kami explained.

“Anaise was right… she suspected you were a werewolf and told me… but I didn’t listen,” Baekhyun admitted.

“She told me about that,” Kami replied.

“When?” Baekhyun asked, slightly taken aback.

“Late last night at the hospital,” Kami answered. “After the nurses took care of the wolf bite on her arm, she went to my room to check on me. I remember waking up to see her there and we talked for a while. She told me you didn’t believe her and she was clearly upset about it.”

“I really need to apologize to her, but I think she’s too upset with me to even want to talk,” Baekhyun said.

“I’d give it time. She’s not all bad and she really cares about everyone,” Kami said.

“You’re right,” Baekhyun smiled. “Maybe we can talk later at my place? If you’re not oppo—”

“Sounds good,” Kami smiled. “If you’re not opposed to helping me pack a bag, that is.”

“Not at all,” Baekhyun smiled.

“I’m going to need one of you guys to check on Anaise.”

“I volunteer Jongdae.”

Jongdae released a sigh as he held the motel master key in his hand. He looked up to make sure the room number was right. He knocked first and waited for a response. After receiving no response, he used the master key to open the door.

He walked in and didn’t find any sign of Anaise. He looked at the mess of bags on the bed closest to the door, then to the assortment of items on the table. His train of thought was cut short when he heard Anaise talk.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m here until this case is solved. You need to quit calling just to chew me out,” Anaise spoke in English.

Jongdae looked toward the direction of the bathroom and peeked through the mirror. He saw Anaise with her hair held back with a headband and wiping her face with a towel with her phone held to her ear with her shoulder. She put down the towel and noticed Jongdae standing in the room.

“Can you please just leave me alone? I’ve got important things to take care of,” Anaise spoke on the phone in English again. She quickly ended the call and groaned.

“You alright there, princess?” Jongdae asked.

“I don’t even know,” Anaise sighed as she sat down on the edge of the empty bed.

“You didn’t react when I called you ‘princess’, something is definitely wrong,” Jongdae replied as he sat down on the bed next to her. “Care to tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t want to overload your problems with my own, they’re probably insignificant compared to everything else you deal with,” Anaise answered.

“I appreciate your concern about me, but on this case, you are an important part of this squad. Therefore, you are part of my concern,” Jongdae calmly argued. “It could also benefit you to have someone to vent to.”

“I don’t see the point in telling my life story when I know I’m only here temporarily,” Anaise replied as she looked at the floor.

“I don’t care about that,” Jongdae honestly said. “I care that you’ll be in a good state of mind while you’re here.”

Anaise looked up at him and looked into his eyes to try and find if he was being honest. She took a deep breath and said, “This stress is killing me. The constant stress from my father was already enough… now Baekhyun wants to continuously argue with me. I don’t know how much more I can handle.”

“I can already tell you that Baekhyun is going to get over himself soon,” Jongdae said, “but I have no idea what your family background is, so I don’t know how to help.”

“Long story short, my father is a demanding asshole,” Anaise bluntly said.

“So all those phone calls you would take… it was your father hounding you about your job?” Jongdae asked.

“You’d be right,” Anaise answered. “I keep telling him to leave me alone and let me do my job, but he’s so damn insistent on telling me how I should be doing this job.”

“You’ve been dealing with that all this time and none of us knew,” Jongdae said as he leaned back on his arms.

“I try not to involve personal matters when it comes to work, it gets in the way too much,” Anaise replied.

“You could always take the time while off the clock to talk to somebody about it,” Jongdae suggested.

“I’m a bounty hunter in an environment full of cops, do you really think anybody would understand my problems?” Anaise said.

“I do,” Jongdae replied in a quiet tone. “You’ve got all the pressure in the world to do a job you were thrusted into, and you want to do it your own way but your father is telling you to do it his way.”

Anaise stared at Jongdae in awe. “I guess you do know…” she mumbled.

“I’m more than just a dumb cat, you know,” Jongdae chuckled.

“Since you’re not just a dumb cat, care to tell me what I can do to combat my asshole father?” Anaise asked.

“The you I know would just tell him how you honestly feel,” Jongdae said, “but I also don’t know what kind of man your father is other than an asshole.”

Anaise looked at the floor in deep thought. “I never did get much choice in anything when I was a kid. He wanted me to carry on his legacy since my older brother ran away from home. If I didn’t do everything his way, I’d have to do it again. He always has to approve of any job I take. He’s calling so much because I took this job on my own without his approval,” she said.

“And without you, we wouldn’t have made so much progress on this case,” Jongdae replied. “It’s almost a shame that you’ll be leaving once the case is closed.”

“Is it bad that I agree with that statement?” Anaise sadly chuckled.

“Do you not want to leave?” Jongdae asked, almost joking.

“Not really… and just the thought of having to fly back home…” Anaise replied as she started staring at the floor again. She stayed silent for a few moments before tears started building up in her eyes. She fought hard to prevent them from falling, but she failed once she felt Jongdae grab her hand.

“Let’s not think about that right now. Let’s just live in the moment,” Jongdae calmly said as he squeezed her hand. “You are here, right now, using your skills to help out people in a completely different environment than you’re used to… and you’re doing a damn good job of it.”

“I appreciate that… I really do,” Anaise said, letting the tears spill out. She looked away and at the ceiling. “Dammit… I hate it when people see me cry,” she muttered.

Jongdae smiled as he let go of Anaise’s hand and reached up to wipe away her tears and said, “Then only let me see it.”

Anaise looked at Jongdae carefully and studied his expression. He kept smiling as he leaned in and gently kissed her lips. Anaise froze for a moment before closing her eyes and losing herself in the kiss. Jongdae slowly pulled away and stared right into Anaise’s eyes and smiled.

“Chin up, Anaise,” he calmly said, “all of this stress will be gone soon enough, and we can get the queen of sass back.”

“First I’m a princess, now I’m a queen, what else are you going to call me?” Anaise asked through her chuckles.

“Mine.”

See that off in the distance? Those are the ships sailing away.

#exo #exo baekhyun #baekhyun #exo scenario #exo fanfic #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun x oc #supernatural #werewolf #vampire #Wolf with Silver Eyes

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