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yhwhsdaughter · 3 years

Text

pairing: trevor belmont x fem reader

content: forced vampirism, monster slaying, main character death, pining, angst, mention of animal death, usage of the word ‘assault’ to refer vampires feeding on reader

- this was meant as platonic soulmates but it can be seen as romantic too

“It hurts…”

Feet dragging across the rocky ground, you heard screeches of pain from behind, though they soon diminished. You could only focus on the pulsing sensation at the side of your neck; it was like fire rushing through your veins.

Preoccupied with your agony, Belmont was able to sneak up. He raised his whip, ready to kill off the last of the creatures when you suddenly turned, and with glossy eyes you said, “Help me…”

The whip managed to leave a thin horizontal line across your cheek as he pulled back, causing blood to drip out slowly. Now illuminated by the moon, Belmont saw the damage on you. Skin exposed by the ripped clothes showed multiple bite marks. Blood stained the corner of your lips.

She’s been infected..

Belmont didn’t see a monster but a scared woman who’d just been assaulted by vampires. He knew what she’d turn into, but he couldn’t kill her… not when she looked at him like this. Sunrise was approaching so he had to act fast.

Draping his cloak onto your form, Belmont proceeded to carry you into the nearest building, which so happened to be where the carnage had occurred. Upon recognizing the place, you began to panic, shaking and looking at him with distrust. “You’re safe. I killed every last of those bloodsuckers.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, in that shitty stinking room. Eventually tiredness overcame your senses; Belmont felt weight settle on his shoulder. He wonder how a vampire could look so innocent whilst sleeping.

“Hungry…”

You felt parched; it felt like your throat had dried up, barely able to utter a word.

“I know.”

A rabbit was placed in front of you. Blinking at it, you directed a confused glance at the man. “I’m—this is.. for me?” He nodded. Taking the animal with traces of disgust, you raised it to your mouth. Blood gushed into your mouth; feeding made a horrible slurping that would certainly haunt you but there was relief amongst those troubling feelings.

You gulped every last drop, draining the poor creature of its life. Still, your hunger and thirst weren’t satiated. Biting your lip, you pondered on the next move. Because this man had saved you, daring to kill him or even feed off him seemed… rude. Not to mention, he seemed way stronger than you in terms of experience. Prior to this, you were a regular citizen. Maybe you could run away?

“Here.”

Trevor could see your turmoil. Most vampires needed to drain at least one human every time they fed—if they were being generous. They could survive weeks without blood but it made them weaker. Besides, it was older vampires who had this kind of self control. Newborns tended to be more unstable.

“Just take it before I change my mind.”

You did as told, though you were still unsure. Hesitating, you licked your lips before nearing towards the vein on his wrist.

Trevor let out a grunt when your fangs pierced him. Although you tried to be gentle, it was an uncomfortable feeling nonetheless. As he became lightheaded and you full, the mouth that was attached to his wrist removed itself with a ‘pop’.

After making sure he was alright, you asked for his name. “Trevor. Trevor Belmont.”

“Oh..”

“……”

“Oh! I’m (Name) (Surname).”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

“It’s dangerous.”

“I still-still want to go!”

The last remnants of sun were gone. Ever since your first encounter with the rugged monster hunter, you refused to part from him, following the latter like a lost puppy.

“I’m not much of a fighter.. b-but watch this!”

On cue, you punched the nearest tree, cracking it and making a sizable hole. You looked back proudly towards Trevor; except when you tried to pull your hand out, you were having difficulty.

“Ah. It’s stuck.”

Trevor couldn’t help but chuckle, walking away, clearly amused with your display of power. You pulled harder, “Hold on! Don’t leave me alone! It’s scary..” you muttered the last part while chasing after him. Despite being a creature of the night, the world and its evils still frightened you.

At the sound of a branch snapping, you yelped, grabbing a piece of Trevor’s cloak for security.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Belmont when you punched a head clean off, practically decapitating one of the attackers. He might have been seriously injured if you had not intervened.

“Trevor.”

Gazing at you under the moonlight, he saw the hunger in your eyes as you held a man whom was still alive but struggling. His neck was exposed. Even so, you waited.

The Belmont turned away, giving you privacy to feed.

He knew that by allowing you to live, you would continue to take blood from others. Normally he wouldn’t feel soft towards a monster but whenever he thought of you, it was different.

His guilt was lessened when you drank from scum. Before putting the lives of innocents in danger, he would offer his own.

“Are you done?”

The corpse of the man was dropped unceremoniously as you joined Trevor, a light skip to your step.

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Despite adopting a nighttime lifestyle, Trevor was still human and had to conduct business during daylight hours.

He’d left your lodgings, which was an abandoned cottage, for a while. Nobody really passed through there anyway, so he thought you were safe. Worst came to worse, you could handle yourself. But as your self proclaimed protector, Trevor felt uneasy leaving you alone.

Maybe he should’ve listened to his gut because when he arrived, the door was wide open with dirty footprints leading in all the way to your coffin.

Two men had opened it—staring at the peaceful expression on your face, unaware that they were here to end you. To them it was obvious what you were. Even with that frilly white dress that made you look somewhat angelic, they couldn’t be fooled. As they raised their weapons to strike, Trevor used his whip. His sudden entrance startled them but it gave you the chance to wake up.

Eyes snapping open, you jumped onto the other man, taking both of you to the ground. His screams echoed shortly as you tore into his throat. The remaining one had no chance; Trevor left the room, closing the door on his way out, killing the light that entered and cutting off the way to escape.

Left alone with your prey, a smile crept up your face.

When you opened the door again, the dress which decorated your body was now stained red. There was hardly a clean piece on the material. Even so, you greeted Trevor with a hug.

“Trevor..”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“M-me too..”

─── ☾☼☽ ───

Forty years passed in the blink of an eye.

“You should retire.”

“Belmonts don’t retire. The only rest they get is when they’re dead.”

“Well I don’t want you to die.”

“I have to, someday.”

“No you don’t.”

It’s been like this for the past few years; Trevor was sixty now. His body didn’t look that of an aging man, but the expression on his face did. He’d seen too much and as time passed, it was harder to fight monsters by himself.

Of course you’d noticed that and suggested turning him. It was an ongoing discussion; Trevor didn’t fancy the idea of living an eternal life but the thought of leaving this earth without you was disheartening. He didn’t say it but the situation tore him apart.

There was also the fact that he was too old for you; forty years to be exact. You’d maintained your youth, looking lovely as ever. His doubts were shot down when you immediately said that you didn’t care about that.

“I just want you.”

He always kept pushing the conversation away and you were patient. Trevor supposed that you could’ve taken him by force if you wanted and when he inquired, you told him it would be like violating him, robbing him of the choice you were never given.

As understanding as you were; the time would come for him to decide and confront you about it.

That time was now.

He should have been more careful, but there was nothing to be done about it now. Trevor watched as the sun slowly descended. Would you make it here before he passed? Would he die without seeing you one last time?

When you woke night had already fallen. Trevor wasn’t home; he’d been late plenty of times before but this occasion felt different.

Upon stepping outside, the smell of blood hit you. It reeked, staining the very air. You immediately recognized the source—how could you not? You’d fed from Trevor countless times.

Rushing in that direction, you prayed to whatever entity was listening to keep Trevor safe. The world and its gods could condemn you, but not him.

Not him.

You found him sprawled on a big rock, a creature hovering over his crumpled figure. Without thinking, you tore it to pieces. Blood rained as his mangled body flew to various parts of the forest.

“Trevor!!!”

He let out a groan, which would’ve made you sigh in relief but his visible injuries proved otherwise. You were no doctor and even if you could carry him into town, it would be too late. There was no other option. If you didn’t do anything, you might lose him.

“Trevor. Let me do it.”

Still conscious enough to reply, “I don’t want to become—”

“A monster?”

“I cannot become what I sought to destroy..”

Tears escaped your eyes, blurring the image of the person whom you treasure most. “Please.. please please please..! Don’t leave me alone!”

You begged, knowing it was unfair to pressure him in such way but you couldn’t bare the thought of existing if he wasn’t present. He was your salvation, your companion…your world. And yet, he was being robbed from you.

So soon… It’s too soon!

You always imagined Trevor living well into old age, spending the remainder of his life with you, being happy. He was destined to die peacefully, not like this. Not in this shitty place, by the hands of a shitty monster!

“I can’t. I’m sorry..”

Grabbing his hands, you lowered your forehead on them, crying your heart out. It was unfair. Life was unfair.

“Kiss me.”

Despite the pain that he was in, Trevor found it in himself to smile. For you. “Kiss me one last time.” Tears dropped slowly as you heard him. Shaking your head; you couldn’t kill him.

“I want it to be you..”

His words struck a chord.

Lifting him by the neck in a gentle manner, you pushed the collar of his shirt aside, exposing his carotid. As you bit into his familiar skin once more, your other hand caressed him, trying to make this goodbye as painless as possible.

With every sip you took, tears fell down.

I love you! I love you! I love you!

His warm hand turned cold.

You held him in your arms like he once did to you, with the outmost care, with the love he deserved.

Since Trevor didn’t say where he wanted his body to be buried, you chose the nicest spot. It was a secluded place where it wouldn’t be dug up by animals or people—but not so hidden either.

Whilst cleaning the blood that covered his body and face, you found a piece of cloth with writing on it. Staring at it, you recognized the Belmont insignia. Turning the material, you managed to read the words…

Take this. Go to Alucard.

Trevor must’ve written that in his final moments; probably in case he didn’t make it before you arrived. The letters were sloppy because of the blood but you could read it well.

Clutching it to your chest, you sobbed until the light of day began to burn. For a moment you wished to stay there and disappear. Perhaps you could join Trevor.

Together even in death..

─── ☾☼☽ ───

The journey was rather long.

Looming in all its glory, Castle Dracula. You looked at the last piece of your beloved, holding it tighter in your hand.

“Okay. Let’s meet this Alucard.”

#trevor belmont #castlevania trevor #trevor x reader #trevor x you #trevor x y/n #castlevania #castlevania x reader #castlevania x you #castlevania x y/n #alucard #alucard x reader #alucard x you #alucard x y/n #vampire

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 3)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader

Warnings: underage drinking, mild swearing, mentions of drugs

Words count: 2k (it’s short but the next part is long)

Part Summary: As the night dwindles away, JJ feels pressured to secure a place in your life. His chances grow times ten when Sarah arrives with some interesting news.

Masterlist

You and JJ share a log around the fire. His arm rests over your thigh, his hand gripping your knee slightly. Your chin rests on his shoulder as you two exchange whisper back and forth, making the Pogues sick with how lovey-dovey you two already are becoming.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” JJ asks, kinda hoping he could ask you for real date but he’ll understand if you already have plans.

“Hanging out with you,” you cheekily answer, earning a blushing grin from him.

“Oh! cool, cool...” He presses his lips together with a faint laugh, finding it hard to hide his childish grin.

You giggle at his bashfulness. He’s so shy around you and you can’t help but find it adorable.

"Here comes Sarah!" Kiara announces as he spots their friend's car rolling up the drive.

You and JJ finally break your hype-focused attention away from each other. Almost to make up for the lack of verbal communication, JJ shifts closer to you and plants a quick peck to your temple.

"Hey! Sorry for the delay!" Sarah announces as she walks over from her car. John B rises from his position, trying to intercept Sarah before she sees you and JJ. Once she reaches John B, she notices how you and JJ are sitting. Her brows scrunch together, but she does her best to mask her confusion. "My parents were having a hissy fit about me borrowing the car. I told them and Y/N's parents that we were staying the night at Kiara's since she doesn't feel well. I hope that's okay, Kie," she asks as she gets closer to the bonfire.

"Yeah, no problem!" Kiara waves her hand, not caring at all.

"Wait, so what's the game plan?" You ask Sarah, but also everyone else for their input. You're thankful for the group's help, but weren't exactly prepared for an overnight stay. You understand why Sarah did this nonetheless.

"You all can stay here tonight," John B shrugs as the Pogues do it all the time.

"Your parents believed it," Sarah assures you. "I would just text your parents to help it seem more legit."

"Okay! I'll text my mom," you comply with enthusiasm.

Hey, I told Sarah to tell you but in case she didn't, we're staying over at Kiara's tonight. I had to drive her home in her dad's car because we think she got food poisoning or something. I'll text you when I'm heading out in the morning. Sarah can drive me home or something :)

"Finally! It'll be nice not being the only girl! I was kinda hoping you and Sarah would stay over anyway," Kiara adds, offering you a kind smile.

"That makes two of us," JJ whispers for only you to hear.

"My folks were pretty pissed about me ditching on the party, so I feel no urge on going home," Sarah huffs, right as John B asks for her to help him inside real quick.

You and JJ watch as John B escorts Sarah inside by the arm. They try to be nonchalant, but it's so obvious they're freaking out. Sarah's whispers aren't exactly quiet and John B's doing his best to fill her in on what he knows.

JJ turns his face toward yours with a smirk, suppressing his laughter. "They're definitely talking about us."

"Oh for sure!" You nod slowly with a snicker.

You two share in your amusement as your friends slowly lose their minds. A Pogue from The Cut was caught kissing the Princess of the OBX. If your friends from the other side of the island found out they would have an even more dramatic reaction.

Your phone buzzes in your lap and it's from your mom.

Ok. Text me when you wake up.

"All set!" You voice to everyone remaining around the fire. "I doubt they'll even care since "I'm still on the Figure 8,” you make air quotes.

"Yay!" Kiara claps her hands.

"I say we watch a scary movie tonight!" JJ suggests beside you.

"The Conjuring!" You vote swiftly, earning a laugh from JJ.

"No!" Pope instantly refuses. "Nope! Last time we watched that you guys made me sleep on the porch and I heard creeks all night!"

"Aw, I'll stay with you tonight Pope," Kiara offers, reaching for her friend's hand with a pout. "I'll keep you safe from all the ghosties."

JJ leans in brushes his lips against your ear. "You gonna keep me safe?"

You smile softly, turning your head toward him as you nod slowly. "I'll have your back if you have mine."

His beautiful eyes meet yours in the gold flickering light of the fire. "Always, Baby." He plants a kiss to your lips, this time slow and comforting, as though you two have been doing it forever.

___________________________________________________________

All six of you are gathered in the living room, watching The Conjuring. John B and JJ insisted that all lights in the house must be off, much to Pope's dismay. Kiara and Pope are positioned on the carpet, their backs against the couch. Pope has been hiding in a ball with his face behind the blanket he shares with Kiara. Sarah and John B are sprawled comfortably on the couch, well invested in the movie. You and JJ share the old red recliner, tucked close in a ball under a comforter. Right before the movie starts to get interesting, you shift forward in your position. JJ whines, disappointed in the loss of contact. His pouty face makes you giggle and he playfully tries to keep you close by holding onto your wrist.

"I need another drink, anyone else?" You offer quietly, making sure not to step on Kiara or Pope on the floor on the way to the kitchen. You receive various forms of declines as you do your best to navigate your way through the dark and unfamiliar house.

Finally finding yourself in the kitchen, you make yourself a glass of water. The moonlight shining through the window over the sink acts as your saving grace. Suddenly, you feel a pair of arms slip around your waist, causing you to jump.

"Hey, Gorgeous," the blonde whispers against your neck.

"JJ!" You gasp your heart racing.

"Did I scare you?" He chuckles quietly to not alert the others.

You spin in his hold and nudge him on the shoulder playfully. "You did that on purpose!"

"Not really but-" In one swift motion, JJ picks up and places you on the counter. He parts your legs to stand between them. His palms glide up and down your thighs. "That I did mean to do," he smirks, biting down on his lip.

"JJ! Y/N! You're going to miss the wardrobe part!" Pope shouts, his voice shaky with fear.

"I wish I had spoken to you sooner," JJ confesses abruptly, completely his friend in the next room. All he cares about right now is you.

"Dido," you smirk, placing your arms over JJ's shoulders.

"Really?" He voices in disbelief. Despite how much you've reassured him or have reciprocated his affections, he still isn't convinced that you truly like him.

"That first time I saw you at the Cameron's?" You recall with raised brows. "Um, yeah! You looked hot in that pale green Ron Jon shirt."

"I can't believe you remember that," he shakes his head, leaning in closer to you. I thought there was no way you'd know who I am."

"JJ," you say his name in a mild groan with a toss of your head. How can this boy not see how amazing he is? "You're definitely worth remembering."

"It was at the Boneyard," he states a matter-of-factly.

"What was?" You grin.

"The first time I ever saw you," he tilts his head back slightly, relieving his sharp jawline. "You were dancing with Topper on the wall. The fire made your skin glow and shimmer like bronze. You wore a navy blue bikini with ripped white booty shorts. Your hair was half up and all I could think about was how much I wanted to run my fingers through it. You were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen," he tells you, never once breaking eye contact.

"That was last summer!" You can't believe he remembers that.

"I know," he replies as though it's completely ordinary.

Your jaw drops, "you're saying you've been waiting to talk to me for a year?!"

"Okay well, when you put it that way," he tries to play it off and be cool now.

"Aw JJ!" You express a little too excitedly, bringing your hands to his cheeks.

JJ is quick to press his hand over your mouth. "Shh, Baby. Before you alert everyone in the living room!" Mischievously, you plant a kiss on his palm, catching him off guard. JJ swallows hard, peering down at you with hooded eyes. "Okay, now you're just teasing me."

You place your hand over his and remove it from your mouth. "You make it too easy," you giggle in a whisper.

JJ simply stares down at your lips as he bites down on his own. Before you have a chance to react, he hungrily presses his lips to yours. Ever kiss up until now has been gentle, new, and hesitant. Now, JJ is forgetting his nerves and is acting on impulse. He breaks away from you and moves his assault to your neck. You comb your fingers through his thick blonde hair, gripping the strands on the back of his neck.

"JJ," you pant breathlessly as your eyes fall shut. "What are you doing?"

"Making up for lost time," he breathes against your neck. I'm really kicking myself right now."

"It's my fault too," you try to speak as JJ makes a track down your neck to your collarbone. "I could've at least said 'hi' instead of smiling like an idiot."

"At least you were nice," JJ mumbles against your chest. "I was a statue. Plus, I always thought you and Rafe may be-"

"Ew! Don't even finish that sentence," you scoff in disgusts.

"You were always at the Cameron's. He's always on top of you and watches you like a hawk," JJ explains as he pops up for air.

"He's had a thing for me for a while now. I've turned him down," you inform him.

JJ frowns in confusion. "Why?"

You figured it would've been obvious, especially considering how much JJ hates Rafe. "He's an arrogant ass. He thinks he's invincible and I hate people like that."

"Well, you can tell him you're taken now," JJ grins, leaning in to kiss you.

"Oh, I am?" You question playfully against his lips.

"Yep," the boy nods as he begins to glide his lips across your jawline. "You're mine... and only mine..." He whispers, making you bite your lip with anticipation. Boy, this kid knows how to get you turned on. "I'll make sure everyone in the OBX knows it too," he declares as he starts to suck on the sensitive skin on your neck. At the rate JJ is going, he's certain to leave a mark or two, just as he wanted.

"You guys!" Kiara calls this time.

JJ huffs with annoyance as he appears out from your neck. "Coming!" He shouts, completely unfazed by what he was just doing. "Got you're so sexy," he plants a quick peck to your lips. "I hope you know I'm going to be dying through this entire movie."

Ever the gentleman, he grips your waist and helps you down from the counter. He slips his hand into yours and grabs your water with the other before leading the way back into the living room.

"She couldn't find the sodas in the fridge. I had to grab a new box from the back," he conjures up as you two cross the living room toward the recliner.

"Sureee," John B and Sarah say in unison with amusement.

"Sorry guys, what did we miss?" You ask while you and JJ get settled.

After you take a quick sip from your water, you place it on the side table between the recliner and the couch before getting comfortable again with JJ.

"Nice water, Y/N." Sarah giggles as she peaks over from the couch at your hand, earning an eye roll from JJ.

"The crazy demon lady jumped on the daughter. I hate this!" Pope rushes out to answer your question.

"Oh my God! You're fine, Pope!" Kiara groans, not hiding her annoyance.

"I wish it wasn't so dark in here!" Pope shouts dramatically.

"I kinda like it," JJ purrs in your ear.

You turn your head to the side and he plants a kiss on your lips. As the others watch the movie, you and JJ spend most of the time whispering back and forth or too caught up in each other physically to talk at all. Of course, you two are respectful of your friends and keep it PG. Yet, you can't get enough of each other. It's all so soon, energetic, and freeing. As the thought of tomorrow morning lingers in the back of your mind, you’re starting to dread the idea of parting from JJ.

__________________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly @cc13723things

#jj maybank fic #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank fluff #jj #john b routledge #sarah cameron #rafe obx #pope #kiara #topper obx #obx jj #obx #obx fanfiction #outterbanks #outer banks #topper outer banks

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mysteriesgalplusdamianthings · 3 years

Text

Homeward Bound (NSFW)

This is a small snipit from my damimaps oneshot. This was based on a prompt wish list from @gumbloodygirl I really like, there were like eight other prompts that I might take a gander at later down the road but this stood out to me.

This one was where Maps and Damian venture back to Gotham with a little surprise for the fam, after a whole year of raising their child away from home.

So a big thank you @gumbloodygirl for the prompt.

Warning: it has smut obviously, so read at your own risk.

Here's the link if you want to read the rest of it: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32561929

Happy Reading!!!!

Maps felt uncomfortable.

Very uncomfortable.

She breathed laboriously shifting awkwardly in her bed, groaning as she did, her eyes slowly fluttered open to be faced with her ceiling. She blinked away the sleep in her eyes, reaching up to rub leisurely at them. Maps wanted to spread out her aching body but found that she couldn't, what she first had noticed was that she felt somewhat pleasantly warm. The second was a substantial weight laying on her bare chest.

Ah, now she remembers, Maps thought fondly.

She sighed contently as she reached down to run her thin fingers through his soft hair, she heard a soft moan from the man on top of her as he snuggled up closer to her, wrapping his arms securely around her waist. Maps placed a soft kiss on his head before she looked over at her clock and read two-thirty in the morning.

The soft glow of the moonlight casting through her window was the only source of light she had, permitting her to turn her attention back to Damian, studying the defined lines and contours of his face to her heart's content. His head rested comfy buried between her breasts, as one of his legs was tucked snugly in between both of hers; so she's entirely and utterly wrapped up in his warmth.

Enwrapped in him.

She couldn't help but chuckle lightly at how cute he looked sleeping on her like this. She ran her thumb across his swollen lips reviving their last-night activities that lead up to this cherished minute. They had basically planned to have a late pizza date night, by starting the evening off with watching a whole marathon of shark week together. Not even ten minutes into the first episode did they venture off into something else... now laid a half-empty box of cheese pizza on their nightstand and a still paused shark week on their tv.

Maps contemplated reaching over for the remote to shut the tv off, but feard waking Damian up in the process. So she settled for leaving it on, they could continue it later on if they had time.

Especially since Damian had promised they'd finish the episode after they were done with their lovemaking, but he had immediately fallen asleep after a few rounds of them tumbling unitedly between sheets with sweet nothings and desperate kisses.

Although, Maps couldn't find it in herself to be upset or even annoyed at their plans being ruined. Moments like this were somewhat of a rare occurrence in their day-to-day life, however, it's not so much due to work or patroling that's been necessarily keeping them busy.

So this was a welcoming atmosphere; or the calm before the storm.

Maps let out a weary sigh.

She knew the conversation she was going to have with him wasn't going to be an easy one, but it was something she needed to address. She can't keep putting this on hold anymore, it wasn't healthy and they both knew it is the right choice for the three of them, for everyone.

She gazed in thought up at the ceiling, pondering on how to go about telling him.

Maybe she could get Dick to convince him? Or Alfred? They always knew what to say to get Damian to compromise.

Maps slowly maneuver her hand from his hair and down his back, her fingers rippled over the many scars and burns he's obtained over the years. She sighed again, as she gets to thinking about the new chapter in their life.

Leaving their new home in Arlington for Gotham.

It was a big step, an overwhelming, terrifying, and nerve-racking step, all at a cost for various reasons.

The main one relates to the boy who is at the moment using her as a body pillow; namely the life he left behind to start a new one with her to be exact. It had happened about a year ago, when she had discovered she was pregnant with Damian's child.

It had been the happiest moment of their lives, knowing that there was a life growing inside of her. It was at that realization that they decided to move, to find a place that wasn't surrounded by its own corruption, a place with new beginnings, a place where they can just leave everything behind and start anew.

They had found that place here in Arlington, yes, of course, it had its pros and cons but it was nice and it was theirs.

But unfortunately, they had moved before their son Isaac was born.

So the family had never gotten the chance to meet him. Their little bundle of joy; the light of their life. And that was something Maps wasn't too thrilled with, no she was absolutely not having any of it.

No matter what happened in their past, or what Gotham consisted of, the bats were Isaac's family too and they have every right to see their nephew and be a family with him.

Damian was just going to have to accept that.

She didn't care if she had to move back to Gotham by herself. Isaac was going to meet the people she now calls her family. Although she will admit, she couldn't help but feel a bit apprehensive about what the future holds for them, all of them really.

Moving back to Gotham could mean chaos and trouble, but dammit' it was still her home, she grew up there with all her friends, and had even found the love of her life in that godforsaken city.

Gotham may be an eternal damnation, but she had so many treasured memories there. Even if it was a shared agreement between the two of them to leave the city, it hadn't made the move any easier.

And it's not like she wants to leave without her husband... but he can be so selfish and stubborn at times. Maps chewed on the inside of her lip anxiously, or maybe she was the one being selfish?

She glanced down at Damian's sleeping form, so peacefully, completely unaware of the war going on in her head.

"Stop thinking already," he mumbles into her chest.

Or maybe not.

"Damian, did I wake you?" Maps asked, watching him shift lightly.

"You're pinching me," Damian grumbles shifting again and away from her hand.

She looked over and found herself pinching at one of his prominent scars, something she had picked up a year into their marriage, it was a small habit she did when she was thinking hard about something. She smoothed her hand down his back then up to his hair again, pressing another gentle kiss to his head.

"Sorry, I can't help it." Maps whispered, pressing another kiss to his forehead. Damian settled back into her as he sighed into her bosom. Maps felt his hot breath spread up to her neck, she slightly shivered as heat spread throughout her body.

"What's wrong?" he asked, voice sleep-laden and spent.

Maps pause for a moment, now is a good of a time as any to tell him. Better rip the band-aid off now before she chickens out.

She breathes in then out to calm her racing heart, her chest heaved with effort. She let the silence settle in to collect herself some more before answering him.

She breathed then said, "I want to move back to Gotham," she quietly declares into the silent air, hoping her rapid beating heart would just calm down already. Damian stays silent for a moment or two, laying completely still, listening to the beats of her heart.

Maps bit her lip hard as her nerves rush up in her stomach and then into her chest, she was always making declarations like this in the worst times.

Maybe she should have waited until he was fully rested... but then he'd have more energy to argue back with her if she did.

Her hand stills in his hair as she franticly tries to backtrack her statement, but stopped in her mid-panic attack as she felt him move to sit up, now he's staring down at her with a serious look coating his eyes.

He doesn't look mad... but he doesn't look too happy either.

"Why?" he asked the question simply as if he was trying to understand, voice taught and probing. Maps reached her hands up to wrap one around his neck and the other to stroke his cheek gazing up at him with warm pleading eyes.

She smiled as he leaned into her touch, "I want your family to meet our son, I want him to have a life with the people we love Damian, I want them to share these precious moments we have with Isaac with everyone else, that's why." Maps replied back in a soft tone to let him know that she was genuine about what she stated, showing her concern for their son's future.

Damian frowned gently, his gaze intensified.

After a moment of quietness, he uttered, "No," with a sharp tone removing her hand from his face. "And that's final, go back to sleep."

"What?" Maps exclaimed hurt and confused, she knew Damian wasn't going to agree so easily but to reject her proposal without so much as a reason why made her angry. And Maps wasn't one to back down so easily, she hastily sat up glaring at him, and shouted.

"Why not? This will be good for him, for us, why can't you see that?" She threw her hands up as the covers slid down to their waist, the two unmoved by the sudden chill of the room hitting their naked bodies.

Damian straightens back his shoulders to appear taller as he glared down at her with equal fervor.

He crossed his arms against his broad chest, "We had both agreed that we will raise our son somewhere that wasn't Gotham, somewhere far away from the caps and cowls and now after building a stationary life here, you want to go back?" Damian shouted back as his eyes glowed a familiar shade of green, Maps wasn't discouraged by it.

"Yes," Maps replied plain and simple, folding her arms across her chest as well. The two stared down at each other, daring the other to back down, but neither was budging.

"No," he repeated again with more power to his voice, Maps rolled her eyes.

"Give me one good reason why we shouldn't?" she snapped back.

"It's dangerous," he replied.

She scoffed, "Everywhere is dangerous Damian," she spat back rolling her head animatedly, flattening her hands to her hips as if challenging him to continue.

His glare hardened, "Because I said so," he hissed.

"That's not a good reason," she shouted back.

Damian growled, feeling agitated by the minute. He wasn't fully awake to be having this conversation with her, he'll need to turn the tables in his favor. With that idea in mind, an idea pops into his head.

Damian leans in and presses a soft peck to her lips, surprising her for a millisecond before he leaned in further to give her an open-mouth kiss. Maps gasped as she backs away in shock, Damian places his hand on her shoulders gently pushing her down back into the mattress.

Maps had to blink a few times because this was not what she had expected from him.

Maps indistinctly tried to stifle a small groan, as he was now vigorously sucking on her neck, ugh he was being such a complete moron, her stupidly cute moron. Oh God, she loves this man so much, but she's all but ready to punch him in his stupid face.

"D-Damian," Maps shrikes as Damian rubs his thumb against her left nipple.

"Shh, you'll wake Isaac," he muttered into her neck, repositioning himself so he's fully situated between her legs again, which she subconsciously made room for him to do so.

He lies his full body weight on top of her's so the hard planes of his chest was pressed against her soft plump bust.

"I doubt that," she whispered, unsure at the moment, glancing at the door connected to their bedroom that was hosting their child's nursery.

"Anyways we were talking about- ah!" Maps gasped out loud, observing Damian move to bite at her nipple.

"I said no already, will you just drop it," he said kissing the gap between her breast, Maps whined. He pressed his kisses down the valley of her breast, to her navel, all the way down to her pelvic.

He sat upon his knees and forced her legs apart, staring at her wet pussy hungrily, she watched him bow his head between her thighs and gasped as his nose met her hot skin.

Maps clawed at the blankets closing her eyes tight before dropping her head onto her pillow, "H-hey would you sto-mph," his warm breath warned her a second before he brushed his lips against her cunt, spreading her folds with his tongue, he dragged his hot tongue slowly along her clit and teased her.

Humming as his tongue slid in and out of her, running his large hands up and down her quivering legs.

She pulled desperately, trying to pull away, feeling herself become undone by his skillful lips by the second, he grabbed her hips and held her in place keeping her trapped.

She tensed as his tongue flicked over her clit again causing her to jerk upwards, "Ah, Damian!" Maps whispered breathlessly.

He ignored her pleases, pushing a thick finger inside of her, adding another in after hearing a sharp gasp leave her lips. Moving them in and out in time with his mouth, his motions intensified hearing a long sluty moan echo in his ears, he smirked.

"A-at least give it a-ah chance, a month and oh! mph... if you don't like it we could always just m-move back." Maps pleaded, hoping he'd stop distracting her long enough so she could think properly.

But at last, she wasn't going to get such a request any time soon, as Damian moved from her cunt, back up to her neck, then finally her lips. Placing random kisses on her nose, cheek, and forehead still pumping his fingers in and out of her at a vigorous pace.

He was playing a dirty game here.

"Damian-mph" Maps was silenced by his lips connecting with hers grazing a path along her bottom lip with his warm tongue and nips gently with his teeth. Causing her to open her mouth for him so he could deepen the kiss.

Without thinking, Maps wraps her arms around Damian's neck pulling him in closer as their tounges intertwine in a fight for dominance.

Damian won.

Getting lost in the sensation that is Damian, he pulls his fingers free from her throbbing walls causing a short whine from her into their embrace, naturally, he starts grinding into her, creating delicious friction between the two, drawing a deep moan from them both.

Maps couldn't help but grind back into him as their bodies moved like waves together, creating a smooth rhythm. He reached down to knead at her hips and one of her breasts, rolling his index finger and thumb over her right nipple giving it some much-needed attention.

"Damian please," Maps whined breathlessly, Damian couldn't help but smile.

"Please what?" he said teasingly, knowing he now has the upper hand.

"I- you... this- ah! this isn't fair," Maps half-cries and half-moans out loud as he enters her.

"This is fair love," he whispers into her ear as he starts to move in and out of her in slow motions and the occasional roll of his hips, dragging out his thrusts. Causing slight grating against her clit, generating yet another familiar vulgar moan to escape her lips, prompting Damian to moan as well.

Damian sighed heated and sharp in her ear finding her little groans the most enraptured noise to ever grace his ears.

Damian moved his hands down to grip her hips as he thrusts up into her hard. And for a while, the only sound that filled their room was their bodies slapping against each other and scattered breathy moans from the both of them.

"N-no, I-" Maps slides her hands up his chest for leverage as he speeds up his pace, she just couldn't get a single word out for every time she did he'd bottom her out completely stealing her breath away, forgetting what she had wanted to say in the first place.

Damit, she wasn't going out like this.

Maps frowned and leaned up to bit his shoulder, prompting Damian jerk in pain. She quickly shoved him off pushing him to the side so his back was now laying flat on their mattress.

She wastes no time shifting their positions so she was now straddling him, placing both her hands flat on his chest, she looked down at him with dark determined eyes.

"Listen here you idiot," Maps snapped, watching Damian's eyes widen with shock and if she wasn't mistaken... a bit of pride too. "We're doing this whether you like it or not, I already bought the tickets so you can either stay here and sulk while I and your son leave or you can come with us and be a family." Maps huffed angrily, as Damian silently, begrudgingly, contemplated his options.

He sighed closing his eyes, "Fine, but only for a month," he brooded looking like a pouty child.

Maps squealed excitedly leaning down to shower him in kisses and thank you's.

"I promise you won't regret this and this way Isaac can see his uncles and grandpa and-" Damian reached up behind her head smashing her lips against his, he pulled back with a smug smirk.

"Why don't we continue where we left off before you go on your little amusing rant," he suggested placing his hands where her thighs and ass meet.

Maps nodded with a giggle, as Damian began moving her up and down while simultaneously thrusting up into her, picking up his pace where he had left off.

Leaving nothing but soft moans amidst the couple, echoing all throughout the night.

#damian wayne #damimaps #gotham academy #dc comics #fanfiction #batman #batfamily #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #maps mizoguchi #damian x maps #smut

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chipper9906 · 4 years

Text

The Best Laid Plans- Chapter 4: An Uncertain Reunion

Link To Chapter 1

Pairings: Kylo Ren/Rey, Ben Solo/Rey

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 7,940

Chapter Preview:

Roughly ten minutes later, Rey finds herself settled down on her old cot with a scratchy thin blanket draped over her, peering into the darkness of her AT-AT in disbelief at the fact that Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, is currently laying on the floor, pressed up against the wall with an even older, more tattered blanket than her own, that of which barely covered him.

In the small sliver of moonlight that peeks in through the cracks of the AT-AT, Kylo catches sight of some glinting scuff marks reflecting back at him. Peering closer, he realizes that these marks are in fact tally marks, scratched into the wall roughly over time, spreading up and up the wall he is laid next to.

“Rey?” Kylo whispers into the silence of the night, not worrying about waking Rey, seeing as he could see her eyes reflecting at him in the darkness. “What are these marks for?”

“The tally?” Rey asks for confirmation, even though she knows it’s the only thing he can be referring to. “They count the number of days I was here.”

The room falls back into silence, this one much more unpleasant than the one before. After a few seconds more of this, Kylo dares to speak again.

“Rey… How long were you here for?”

“Roughly fourteen years, give or take,” Rey answers, her eyes scanning across the tally’s she meticulously added to every day.

“How…old are you, Rey?”

“Nineteen, I think. Probably closer to twenty now. I don’t know my actual birthday.”

“You were left here by yourself when you were only… what, five? Six?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Rey rolled over onto her back, staring up at the cracked, peeling metal of her ceiling. “Kinda weird how long we’ve known each other and never knew our ages.”

Kylo hummed in agreement, lifting a hand to softly run his fingers across the jagged tally marks in the wall.

“That was my attempt at asking you for your age, if you didn’t sense that.”

“Oh.”

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Chapter 4: An Uncertain Reunion

It had been a tremendously, idiotically, irresponsible decision to make. Rey knew it now, and she had known it the second she had agreed to meet with him on Jakku. You would think that if she knew it even then, she wouldn’t have agreed. And yet, here she was, climbing aboard the Falcon with a few canteens of collected water and some homemade rations, ready to fly to a planet she once called home, to meet with the Supreme Leader of the First Order, a man she once thought redeemable.

‘This could so easily be a trap.’ Rey thinks to herself as she flings her bag down beside the seats in the cockpit, flopping down into the pilot’s seat with a huff. ‘It would be the perfect plan; Lure me to him with the promise of something I can’t refuse, take me to a place I know to lure me into a false sense of security, then kill me just when I’m finally starting to feel safe around him.’ She continues to think as she runs through the Falcons pre-flights checks, flipping various switches and pushing down many different buttons as the Falcons engines roar to life.

She wanted to trust him. She really, really did. It would make things so much easier. Then again, she would be lying if she said she mistrusted him completely. For a good long while now, there had been something that kept her drawn to him, growing steadily stronger every time the Force had connected them. It had been strong enough that she truly believed that just by going to him, she would be able to turn him. It had been wishful thinking, yes, and she had felt like she was so close to achieving that. Which is probably why it hurt as much as it did when he began spouting nonsense about leading a new First Order like it was words from a textbook; something he had been thinking of for a while, perhaps. Had that really been his goal? To one day murder his Master, and for them to rise as leaders of a new power within the Galaxy? And for how long? When she had come to him on the Supremacy? When they had touched hands over the Force? When he had first seen her?

Such thoughts were whirling through her mind as she increased the Falcons thrust, feeling the lurch from the ship as it lifted from the ground. A few startled Porgs hurriedly flew past the Falcon, their squawks of complaints barely heard over the Falcons powerful engines. Rey let her hand linger on the lever for the thrusters for a few moments as she contemplated whether it was too late to just switch everything off and back out of this deal, but before she knew it, she had pushed the lever forward and the Falcon was rising higher and higher into the sky.

Any more thoughts of Kylo Ren were pushed into the back of her mind as her pilot mode took over, pushing the nose of the ship up and fully activating the thrusters. Rey winced slightly when her head slammed into the headrest as the Falcon burst through Ahch-To’s atmosphere and into the deep, dark depths of space. She allowed herself a few seconds to take in the beauty of the countless stars that surrounded her, reveling in the sense of freedom she felt whenever she flew, something she yearned for every day she spent sweating and exerting herself on the very planet she was headed for right now. With a few more taps on the Falcons console (and a few groans of protest from the ship itself), Rey enters the coordinates of Jakku and puts the ship into Hyperspeed.

Now, with the Galaxies stars whirring past too fast for her to fully see, Rey finds the thought of Kylo Ren once again sneaking back to the forefront of her mind. It was frustrating, to say the least. She can’t remember the last time her mind had let her go even a day without reminding her of him. Sometimes the thoughts would come from nowhere, something so simple as a flash of an image of him: Of the time he was dressed fully in black, mask still in place as he circled her frozen form like a predator that already knows it’s won. Or of the time she awoke chained to what she could only describe as a standing table to see that horrid mask staring back at her. In that moment, when her jabs had finally got him to remove his helmet, she had thought she might actually prefer him with the mask. Because now, she had a face to match the name. Now, she could see he was human just as she was, a young man with eyes so dark and blank that she could tell he had seen too many countless horrors that no one ever should. Perhaps, nearly the worst is a more recent memory, of when he had held out his hand to her, offering her what he thought would be all that she wanted. She can see his pleading face just as clearly as if she was in that red encompassed room once again.

‘I wanted you to take my hand!’

He did. He genuinely did. It hadn’t struck her just how much he had wanted for her to join him until he had snapped at her atop that cliffside, letting his inner mask slip away for her to see the painful frown etched into his face at his own words, showing her just how much he truly meant them. She may not have wanted to rule the galaxy with Kylo Ren, but Kylo Ren certainly wanted to rule it with her.

It wasn’t the worst though.

No, the worst thing to pop into her head wasn’t a memory of him, nor even the times when he actually appears.

It’s of that damn vision.

The one thing that brings her back to him every time, the one piece of hope she desperately clings to, the only thing she has left to convince herself that somewhere hidden deep down within that monster is who the Force had shown to her; a man dressed in light-colored slacks and an airy shirt, adorned with a coarse black vest (of course, there was no way she could convince him not to wear any black). A man with a huge, goofy grin on his face, wide enough to proudly display the gleaming toothy smile he had inherited from his father, his joyful smile directed at her with an arm slung around her shoulders, pulling her into his side with a burst of giddy laughter so contagious, she couldn’t help but join him.

He was happy. And, stood by his side, so she was she.

That vision, that promise of what was meant to be, had been the reason why she had felt her hand twitching by her side at the throne room, a part of her so eager to throw caution to the wind and just grab his hand. Because what if this was how it came to be? What if she was meant to take his hand, to go down this path and be by his side? Perhaps then, being as close to him as he had obviously hoped they would become, she would find a way to turn him. Hopefully, before he could do the same to her.

But she couldn’t. Because to go down that path, she would have had to stand back and watch as the Resistance finally met its end. She would have to do nothing but watch as the only friends she has in this galaxy are blown apart on the commands of the man she was meant to lead beside, and how could she possibly do that? Her friends had sent her on this task, to find one of the last known Jedi to help find a way to end this war, to bring down the Final Order and restore peace. How could she possibly live with herself if she betrayed their trust, betrayed what it meant to be a Jedi, and instead be not only a bystander but an active participant in their deaths?

Kriff, she wanted for that vision to come true. But if that’s what it took for it to happen? She would rather have the vision of who Kylo Ren could be haunting her than the deaths of so many innocents.

Except… Except what if that’s not true? Kylo Ren had already massacred millions of innocent people under the command of his master, but now? Now, as Supreme Leader, she feared her rejection may have turned him resentful towards her, may have burnt out the last remaining bit of Light he had within him and pushed him fully into the Dark. What if, by saving the lives of a few, she may have doomed the lives of millions more?

Rey groaned in frustration, ignoring the stab of pain she felt in her head as she slammed it down on the console of the Falcon, the ache only slightly soothed by its cool surface. With an exasperated grunt, Rey turned her head to the side, catching sight of the empty and somewhat dirty co-pilot’s seat beside her.

She wondered what Chewie would say if he was here right now. She imagined a lot of Wookiee curses at her stupidity for willingly flying to a planet already full of murderous people to meet with an even worse murderer. Back on the Resistance base, she had worked up enough courage one night to ask the Wookiee what Ben used to be like. He was one of the only person left alive she knew besides Leia who could tell her about him, and bringing him up to the General seemed like a very bad idea, especially when she was trying to keep her connection between her son and herself as much as a secret as possible. Chewie had been rather reluctant to talk about him, and the small bits of information she could pry from him obviously pained the Wookiee to speak about; she imagined any memory of Ben brought up even more memories about Han, and considering how much his death pains her with how little time she had to know him, she couldn’t even imagine the pain Chewie must feel at his death, by the hands of his own son.

He had told her some tidbits of information; like how the mess of black hair he had was similar to the one he had as a child, only slightly more tamed and managed. Through that mop of hair (that he apparently fought his mother tooth and nail not to have cut) stood out a pair of ears that his mother hoped he would grow into, and got him into a lot of trouble when he would overhear important conversations his mother had (and, on occasion, one too many fights between herself and Han). Chewie told her of the times Ben would be aboard the Falcon, of teaching him all the tips and tricks he knew on the Falcons old and kind of glitchy Holochess table, of watching the small young boy sat upon his fathers lap in the cockpit, giggling in delight at his father's half-assed reprimands as Ben happily pushed at all the colorful buttons that lit up the Falcons console. Or, of the times where the young toddler would cling to him instead, pulling and yanking at his fur in his fun, to which the only way the Wookiee could get him to stop was by holding him close (and making a sound that Chewie would tell you was certainly NOT a form of purring.)

But, Chewie had also told her that perhaps the reason most of his memories had been of Ben as a happy child was, perhaps, because of how little he truly saw of him. Han had never been one to settle down for too long, and the life he led was not one he could easily give up cold turkey. He had tried, the Wookiee had insisted, as hard as could to settle down somewhat after receiving the news that he would be expecting his first child. But, instead of leading a life of a baby-sitter as Chewie had expected himself to be condemned to, he had been back in the co-pilot's seat before he knew it, Han besides him as he always was.

Han loved Ben. She knew that, but if she were to look at things from Ben's perspective, of living the life that he had… She hated to admit it, but she could start to see how Ben had ended up this way.

Rey groaned once more, letting her head fall into her hands and rubbing at her tired eyes until the bright spots of light behind her eyelids began to fade away. Perhaps the fact that she was beginning to sympathize with Kylo Ren was another sign that all of this was a bad idea…

* * *

The Falcon gave a small shake as the ship exited hyperspace, the stream of stars above her head returning to their usual dotted selves amongst the infinite spread of darkness. Right in front of her was the gigantic pale orb that was Jakku, taking up most of her view from the Falcons cockpit windshield.

“Home Sweet Home…” Rey murmured to herself as she steered the Falcon towards the direction of Niima Outpost.

The Falcon broke through the atmosphere easily, barely a shake as it pushed through Jakkus minimal layers of cloud. As soon as the outpost came into sight, she pulled the Falcon out of its descent, not wanting to get too close for anyone to spot the ship. She had no doubt Plutt was still enraged by the theft of the ship, and she didn’t want to know what he would do if he found out she was the one responsible. Not to mention the fact she was sure some would attempt to shoot it down for the chance to scavenge what survives the inevitable crash…

The fallen Star Destroyers were the first things she saw, a never moving landmark amongst the never-ending dunes of sand. Those ships had been there long before she had even been born, and she was sure they would exist for many more decades. In fact, they would probably lie in their graves for the rest of the systems life, simply too immense to ever be picked clean by even the most determined of scrap collectors.

The AT-AT she once used to take shelter in was nothing but a small silver dot amongst the endless stretch of sand in front of her, easily missed if she wasn’t as familiar with the area as she was. Even after all this time spent away, it was still ingrained in her mind. Perhaps a part of her refused to believe she would ever truly leave this place, that she would have to remember every single detail of how she survived these past years for when she inevitably returns to the life of a scavenger…

The Falcon lands smoothly as it always does thanks to her constant tinkering, setting the ship down on the flattest bit of land she could find (and she knew for certain wouldn’t be a sinking pit…Those were always a nasty surprise). The unrelenting, dry heat of the planet hits her as the Falcons landing door creaks open, the scorching wind blowing irritating grains of sand straight into her face.

“Maybe Kylo had the right idea with the mask.” She complains under her breath as she secures her bag to her waist and tightens her grip on her staff. Rey steps onto the familiar sinking sand, it’s almost unbearable warmth wrapping around her feet as they sink further down with each step.

It was surprising how quickly she had acclimatized to Ahch-To’s colder climate, considering she had spent most of her life in this burning heat. Right now, she would rather face the cold chills of Ahch-To’s wind than the scorching temperatures of Jakku’s sun as it beat down on her from above. Then again, there were many times on Ahch-To as she struggled to see, let alone walk through the freezing rain that pelted her, wishing for the warmth of Jakku.

Rey stopped monetarily when the AT-AT came into view, much bigger than a silver speck now she was walking down on the ground. She spins around, taking in as much as the horizon as she can, not seeing any sign of any visitors, both unwelcome and… Well, she supposed ‘welcome’, considering she technically invited him here.

(Except he was the one that suggested this damn planet…)

It wasn’t all that surprising that he wasn’t here yet. Considering she had no idea where exactly he was traveling from, it may take him longer to get here than it did for her. She was actually kind of thankful for it. If she was being honest, she wasn’t entirely ready to face him quite yet. Speaking together through the Force was one thing, but to stand face to face… It didn’t seem that different, but there’s something about it… That pull that’s always trying to bring her closer to him, it magnifies in ways she can’t even begin to explain. It’s a feeling she knows he experiences too, or at least thinks he does, considering the fact that he’s constantly entering her personal space. Knowing him, he probably isn’t even aware he’s doing it…

After a quick perimeter sweep of the area, Rey finds she can no longer bear to walk any longer on the burning sand, even if the temperature was starting to drop as night approached. The interior of the AT-AT brings with it a welcome shade, and she can’t help but let out a pleased sigh at escaping the sweltering heat that seemed intent on draining every bit of energy she had. Rey plops herself down on a chair of sorts, made of metal and other sturdy materials she was able to scavenge from various ships, only made bearable by the miraculously luxury fabric she had procured from what must have been once a very wealthy (but now obviously quite unlucky) individual.

The dry scratchiness in her throat became too much to ignore, hurriedly ripping open the top of her bag and searching through its contents before pulling out a canteen of water she had brought with her. It was far from cold, but right now, she couldn’t care less. Even lukewarm, it was one of the most satisfying drinks she had ever had in her life.

It’s just as she goes to take another sip gulp of water that she hears the screeching sound of a ship’s engine zipping past. The canteen remains frozen by her lips as she listens out for it, hearing the deafening sounds gradually become quieter and quieter, until she can no longer hear it. Whatever had flown by had flown low to the ground. No pilot flies that low when they have a set destination in mind; rather only when they’re looking for something.

Either someone was looking for her, or she was going to have to face Kylo earlier than she thought.

She wasn’t sure which one she preferred it to be.

With one last deep gulp of water, Rey tightens the cap of her canteen and stores it back in her bag, which she then promptly stored in a hidden corner of her makeshift shelter where it would hopefully stay somewhat cool. Quickening her pace, Rey makes her way out of the only shelter that was ever her own, wincing at the blinding light of the setting sun that threatened to burn her retinas. Rey lifts her hand to shield the worst of the sun's rays from her eyes, peering out in the direction she thought she heard the ship head towards.

Any moisture she had regained seemed to disappear from her throat the second she caught sight of his familiar silhouette against the backdrop of Jakku’s sunset, his flowing cloak floating behind him as it gets caught in the currents of the wind. In the distance, she could just about make out the intimidating shape of his shuttle, its shadowy pointed wings standing tall and proud like a beacon in the sky. Even from here, she could tell he was wearing his mask, something that oddly disappointed her. Although this time he had decided to forgo the hood on top, something she found gave him a much less menacing appearance.

Rey didn’t know what she was supposed to do right now. Was she supposed to walk over to him? Meet him halfway? Or just stand here and wait for him to arrive? The latter she decides is the best course of action, and as she comes to this decision, Kylo comes to a standstill. There they stand, two Force users having a standoff in the middle of a desert, with miles and miles of nothingness surrounding them and no one else in sight. A bout of uneasiness flares up at his frozen form, bringing her staff in front of her in the hopes he gets the message that she’s armed and ready to defend herself if need be. Her eyes remain glued to his side, where she knows for a fact his saber rests, waiting for the inevitable moment his hand goes to grab it.

But it never comes.

Instead, after an agonizing few seconds that felt much longer than that, Kylo continues to walk towards her. It was sort of strange, when she thought about it, that watching someone standstill was more terrifying than someone advancing towards you. That was just what it was like with Kylo, though. When he was stood still like that, she knew he was calculating something in his head, and no matter what you could possibly anticipate him doing, you would never be able to fully counter him. When he’s advancing towards you, it’s because, in his mind, he’s already won the upcoming battle, and that’s one of his greatest weaknesses. She knows that the best opportunity she has to outthink him is when he displays the cockiness and overconfidence of his father.

And Kriff, does she fear the day he stops doing that.

It wasn’t exactly like he was charging at her, but then again, in their previous chases, Kylo always seemed to… Stalk towards her. Perhaps another sign of his cockiness, that belief that he’s going to catch her no matter what, so he doesn’t need to hurry in his pace. Although, she wouldn’t say he was stalking her right now. On top of that, she’s not exactly running away from him this time, so really its more like he’s strolling towards her, casually, as if to say ‘Hi’ to an old friend while you’re out on a walk, not like you’re meeting face to face with the person you were once ordered to kill.

It takes him only a few minutes to reach her, coming to a stop just a few steps away from her. From here she can just about hear his somewhat labored breath emitting from his mask, most likely caught off guard by the exertion of trudging through deep sand. The sounds of his breathing are oddly mechanical sounding, no doubt due to being manipulated from whatever voice modifier he has built into his helmet. Kylo spends a good couple of seconds simply looking at her before glancing off to his right, scanning the area for a moment before he speaks.

“I assume you’ve performed a perimeter check?”

“As I did every night I spent here in the past.” Rey answers him, her fingers twitching against the heated metal handle of her staff, an unusually tense feeling sweeping over her, more so than usual when she spoke to him in the past. “Didn’t see much either when flying over- which I imagine you’ve done as well. Not a soul in sight, from what I could see.”

“Good,” Kylo states, turning his head back to face her before reaching his hands up to unlatch his helmet, yanking his helmet off his head to reveal black locks that were matted to his head with sweat.

“This is just a security measure- Less people see my face, the better,” Kylo tells her, letting the helmet hang by his side as he raises his other leather-clad hand to wipe his drenched hair out of his eyes. “Kriff, I forgot how much I hate sand. Stuff gets everywhere…”

And as she watches this six-foot man covered head to toe in thick black clothing, in the middle of a desert, with what can only be described as a pout on his face as he makes a miserable attempt to shake the sand out from his comically oversized boots, she starts to feel just a little bit better about accepting his offer.

* * *

“This… Was your home?” Kylo asks in disbelief as he ducks through the entrance of the AT-AT, glancing around at the space she’d made for herself. “There’s not much room.”

“I don’t need much room. I spent most of my time in cramped sections of ships looking for parts anyway, so this was more space than I’m used to,” Rey answers with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, resting her staff against a make-shift table before sitting back down where she was before going outside. “This was just a place for me to eat and rest before heading out again. You don’t need much for that; just a roof and four walls to shelter you from the elements and other scavengers.”

“Just enough to survive,” Kylo notes sadly, gazing around at the dark and cramped room they were in. “Doesn’t matter, this should be the last time you have to see this place, nothing more than a meeting place.”

“Yeah… What’s one more night, right?”

“Wait, what?” Kylo asks, his head snapping to face her. “What do you mean ‘one more night?’ We’re leaving now, aren’t we?”

“Um, I don’t know about you, but I’ve spent the last fifteen hours flying to get here, on top of busting my ass for the past few days making sure I was even ready for this trip of ours, and I’m exhausted. I’m not risking the Falcon flying tired like that.”

“We’re not talking that ship,” Kylo told her with a tone of finality.

“What?! Why not? What is it with you and this damn grudge with this ship?”

“It’s not about a…grudge.” Kylo practically spat the last word, not helping his argument in the slightest. “That ship is a very well-known ship. Do you think it’s a good idea to show up at a First Order inhabited planet in a ship that’s associated with both a Hero Rebel and the Resistance? We’d be shot down before I could even identify myself. Not the best plan for ‘sneaking in’.”

“Alright,” Rey said miserably, unable to counter his points. “But I still need sleep, and unless you’re ready to admit you’re actually a droid, you need sleep too.”

“I’ll be fine.” Kylo waved her off, already heading toward the exit of the AT-AT. “If you’re so insistent on needing rest, I’m sure you’ll find my co-pilot's seats are comfortable enough to sleep in.”

“Sure, I’ll do that- If you answer two questions for me.”

“What?”

“When did you last sleep, and was it more than two hours?”

The long stretch of silence she gets in response is all the answer she needs.

“If you want to risk your life piloting a complex space-faring ship with barely any sleep, you go ahead, but I’m not gonna fly with you in that state. Besides, you really think I’d feel comfortable sleeping while you were flying? You could fly me anywhere while I’m out and I’d have no idea until we were there.”

“Fine,” Kylo growled in defeat, reminded once again of her unbeatable stubbornness. Kylo stepped away from the exit with an agitated huff, glancing around dejectedly at the cramped room once more before his eyes settle at her feet.

“You…Wouldn’t happen to have a spare blanket, would you?” Kylo asks in the most defeated tone she’s ever heard from him, raising an eyebrow at the fact he was struggling to meet her gaze.

“Rey?” Kylo whispers into the silence of the night, not worrying about waking Rey, seeing as he could see her eyes reflecting at him in the darkness. “What are these marks for?”

“The tally?” Rey asks for confirmation, even though she knows it’s the only thing he can be referring to. “They count the number of days I was here.”

The room falls back into silence, this one much more unpleasant than the one before. After a few seconds more of this, Kylo dares to speak again.

“Rey… How long were you here for?”

“Roughly fourteen years, give or take,” Rey answers, her eyes scanning across the tally’s she meticulously added to every day.

“How…old are you, Rey?”

“Nineteen, I think. Probably closer to twenty now. I don’t know my actual birthday.”

“You were left here by yourself when you were only… what, five? Six?”

“Something like that, yeah.” Rey rolled over onto her back, staring up at the cracked, peeling metal of her ceiling. “Kinda weird how long we’ve known each other and never knew our ages.”

Kylo hummed in agreement, lifting a hand to softly run his fingers across the jagged tally marks in the wall.

“That was my attempt at asking you for your age, if you didn’t sense that.”

“Oh.” Kylo blurts as the realization hits him. “About twenty-nine, closer to thirty.”

“Huh. Ten years older… You look younger than that.”

“I assume that’s a compliment?”

“Depends what look you’re going for, I suppose,” Rey responds, shrugging her shoulders even though Kylo couldn’t see. “I’m just saying if I had to guess your age, I wouldn’t have said thirty.”

“Never really put too much thought into what I look like, but thank you anyway.”

Enough time had passed without a word between them that Rey made the assumption that Kylo had finally fallen asleep. Craning her head to the side, her thoughts are all but confirmed when, with what little light the moon gives, she’s able to catch sight of him laid ram-rod straight on his back, eyes closed and breaths deep and steady. He looked very…Peaceful, even younger than he usually looks, the calm state bringing out the boyish features of his face. She was quite surprised that he asked to sleep here really, considering he had his own ship to sleep in. Well, saying that, she assumed it didn’t have a cot for him to sleep in, considering he didn’t mention one when he offered a place for her to sleep on board, but still, a seat would be better than the floor of an AT-AT in the middle of a desert, right?

“Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to sleep like you insisted you needed to?”

Rey felt her cheeks burn hot in the cold night's air, shamed to have been caught watching him sleep. How the Force could he tell with his eyes closed?

“Sorry, it's just… Weird, for me.” Rey apologizes as his eyes flutter back open, staring up at the ceiling while his vision adjusted before looking over to her. “I’m used to sleeping alone.”

“I can find somewhere else if you’re that uncomfortable.” Kylo offered.

“No, no it's fine.” Rey insisted quickly, shaking her head. “It’s… It’s kind of nice, actually. Weird, sure, but… It’s nice to have company.”

“Even when it’s me?” Kylo asked light-heartedly with just a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Even when it’s you.”

Evidently, this was not the answer Kylo was expecting. Any retort he had ready on his tongue for the snarky comment he was expecting died off, swallowing deeply as he let her words sink in.

“It’s not really something I’m used to, either,” Kylo admitted to her. “It’s been… A good long while since I’ve trusted someone else to sleep in the same room as myself.”

“When was the last time?” Rey pushed further, an unexpected warmth blooming in her chest at the implication that he trusted her, at least enough to sleep near her.

“When I was a young boy with my mother, most likely,” Kylo replied. “Leia…My mom, she wasn’t around that much, neither was Han. When he deemed I was old enough to be left on my own, he was back to his old ‘job’, if you can call it that. Mom was busy most of the time- we moved around a lot. It was during that time the nightmares started, and shortly after that, I started hearing voices. They terrified me. Mom, she’d… When she was there, she would race into my room as soon as she heard me start to stress. She’d try her best to comfort me, and it partly worked, I suppose, but… They never went away.”

Rey was listening intently, taken aback by how much he was speaking of his past to her, and how much he was opening up. Even though she could tell he was holding some parts of himself back as he spoke, it was more than she expected from him.

“I think they started to get to Leia-my mom-after a while too. One night, when Han decided he’d come back and visit us, I overheard them arguing. He said that I was getting too old for all of this and that she shouldn’t be ‘coddling’ me over it. Mom insisted it was more than just nightmares, but Han didn’t want to hear about it. Han didn’t want to accept the fact that I was Force Sensitive, and he seemed to think the best way to go about it was to ignore it, pretend like it isn’t happening. The argument they had when Mom suggested sending me to Luke… That one was impossible not to overhear. But, eventually, even Han had to accept who I was. The voices were getting stronger, I was getting… More agitated. Restless. They sent me away, and, well, you know the rest.”

“They were just trying to do what’s best for you.” Rey offered meekly. “Ignoring it probably wasn’t a great idea… But sending you to Master Skywalker was.”

“You know they never actually asked me if I wanted to go?” Kylo retorted dryly. “What I wanted was never part of the equation. I got too much for them, so they shipped me off to my Uncle, hoping he could fix the problem.”

“You needed to learn; About the Force, about how to control it- “

“How to restrict it. How to repress my emotions. Skywalker wanted to sway me from the Dark, but his biggest mistake was pushing me away from it. It only made me more curious, made me start listening to the voices in my head- that they might be right.”

“Your parents just wanted to keep you safe, Ben.”

“Thirteen years, Rey. Thirteen years I studied under my Uncle, and do you think I got to see them in that time? Of course not. A Jedi isn’t supposed to have connections, not supposed to have emotional attachments. They sent me away when I was ten, and they knew full well what they were doing. Maybe I had some good memories of them once, but that was washed away under all I had to learn. Any I have of my Uncle, well- Strangely enough, the memory of him holding his lightsaber over my head while I slept tends to override them.”

“He regrets that, you know.”

“He confessed to it?”

“Only after I confronted him about it. ‘A moment of weakness’, he called it. A fleeting moment where he feared the dark within you, but that was it all it took. You know, he- He sensed it in me too.”

This got Kylo’s attention, the sounds of his blanket rustling filling the room as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“He was very reluctant to teach me. I didn’t know why at first- Of course now I know he was afraid to teach after what happened to you. When he finally gave in, and I reached out for the first time, I…”

“You went to the dark.” Kylo finished for her.

“I didn’t realize I was doing it.” Rey is quick to defend herself. “I didn’t know what anything was, I just felt it calling to me and I went to it. I got pulled out from it and… Master Skywalker was terrified. Of me. He…He…”

“He what?” Kylo inquired. “He- He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Wha- No! No, of course not.” Rey answered quickly, horrified that Kylo thought Luke would ever do such a thing. He seemed to sense the truth in her words, for Kylo’s anger promptly simmered away. “He ran away. He said that the power he felt from me was something he had only ever felt once before which was, well… You.”

“I assume he stopped teaching you after that?”

“No,” Rey replied with a shake of her head. “We had agreed to three lessons, but I only got one more after that.”

“What happened to the third?”

“He saw you and me in the hut- after you told me what he tried to do. I confronted him after that, and when he told me what he tried to, I left. I fled to find you.”

“And these…Lessons… Were they of any use?”

“They weren’t what I was expecting,” Rey confesses. “Master Skywalker, he… I think he lost hope after what happened.”

“Lost hope in what?”

“The Jedi Order. The first lesson was about how just because we have this connection to the light, it doesn’t make us Jedi - that the Force is simply too immense to belong to any religion.”

“It works both ways, you know,” Kylo tells her. “You can tap into the powers of the Dark too without being a Sith. Yes, my abilities in the Force may be focused towards the Dark, but that’s by my choice. I surround myself with the Dark, but I am no Sith. I was not taught in the way of the Sith Religion. You may surround yourself with the Light, or try anyway, but that doesn’t make you a Jedi.”

“Then…Then what are we?”

“Force Users. If you want to keep it simple, anyway. Never thought I’d see the day I agree with one of my Uncles lessons…” Kylo muttered the last part mostly to himself as he slid back down onto his back.

“In that case, I’m sure you would have loved his second lesson,” Rey told him with a huff. “Master Skywalker believed the Legacy of the Jedi is only of failure. That for every good thing the Jedi did, it was overshadowed by them allowing the Dark to overtake the Galaxy- That the Jedi has only done more harm that it had done to help the Galaxy and its people. Luke didn’t want to teach me the ways of the Jedi, because he didn’t want to have to pass that fate onto me. He thought it would be best to let the Jedi die with him.”

“Doesn’t sound like him in the slightest,” Kylo mumbled, furrowing his brow up at the dark ceiling above him as he thought. “He seemed to change his mind in the end. Seems you gave him his hope back, Rey. He believes the Jedi will live on with you.”

“And what about you?” Rey asked him. “Do you think that as well?”

“That’s not for me to say,” Kylo replied honestly. “Do I think it’s the right path for you to go down? No, not in the slightest, but I can’t tell you what to do. I can only guide you where I can. It’s up to you to decide what you do with your powers, Rey. You, and only you.”

“You say that like it should be an easy decision.”

“It’s not. Not in the slightest. Why do you think it took me until I was twenty-four to finally pick a side?”

Rey mulled over his words for a moment in the pause of conversation. There was something…Something about his words that sparked something within her, something she felt like she needed to talk to him about. Yet, telling him about it also seemed wrong. Like she was betraying someone, betraying herself if she even thought about it for too long, let alone say it out loud, and to him of all people. Except, in this moment of odd peace between the two of them, laying close to one another in the dark of the night, she finds the words slipping from her mouth without her permission.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Of course. It’s what I’m here for, after all.”

“I… I’m not really asking for guidance with this, I suppose. It’s… I don’t know. Something I need to tell you.”

Kylo sat back up from his makeshift bed on the floor, sensing the worry in her tone. It felt like his body had automatically responded the second he could feel her distress, a part of him he tried to keep buried down subconsciously trying to push him closer to her, filling him with this unusual, overwhelming instinct to help, to comfort in whatever way he can.

It was… an uncomfortable feeling to have returned to him.

“Well… If you feel like you need to say it, you can say it.”

“The truth is… I don’t know what’s right anymore. Before, it all seemed so simple; The Light was good, and the Dark was bad. But… Then I met you, I got to know you better and everything became so confusing. I…I can feel it within me, this pull to the Dark, and I know I shouldn’t be feeling it, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was there. And it… It feels like there’s something wrong with me. I know that people want me to focus only on the Light, to carry on the Jedi religion but… I’m scared. Scared that I’m not good enough, that this calling to the Dark, it’s- It's tainted me. It feels like-“

“Like it's tearing you apart,” Kylo finished her sentence before she could. “An equal pull to both sides. People are telling you that you belong to one side, but you can feel it's not as simple as that. We’re one the same, Rey. Same coin, just the other side. Sometimes it feels like you’re physically being pulled around, each side tugging you to the other. Some will say you belong to the Light, others will say you belong to the Dark. All my life, I tried so hard to do what others told me. I tried to push myself into being content with the Light, with my parents, with my Uncle. Then, when Snoke revealed himself to me, when he started telling me things others wouldn’t… I finally gave in, I turned to the Dark. I thought that would be the end of it, and then-“

Kylo cut himself off with a frustrated grunt, shaking his head as if he could physically push his thoughts out of his head.

“Then I could feel the Light calling me back. I did everything Snoke told me to, I was sure that as long as I followed him, obeyed his orders, he would fix me. I killed my own father in my search to settle myself, and it… It didn’t work. But… But then there was you,”

Rey’s body tensed up at the mention of herself, her mind already racing over what part she had to play in this.

“The scavenger girl from Jakku with a droid that held the map to Skywalker. I thought you wouldn’t be anything special. Just something between me and finally cutting the last tie to my past. And now- here we are- Rey from Jakku; Back where your story started, me here with you, telling you all of this. Should I be? No. If the First Order heard of this, I would be killed for treason -even as the Supreme Leader,”

That was… Something Rey had never thought of. It was obvious really, of course, The First Order couldn’t know that he was helping her. As far as they’re aware, she is the last remaining hope of the Jedi Order, for the religion to continue. At this point, she could very well be their priority target, even over the Resistance. So, if Kylo, their leader, was caught helping her? Kylo may be powerful, she’s seen first-hand of that, but against the entire First Order? By himself? She couldn’t imagine the outcome would be good for him.

“I shouldn’t be here, but I am, and I’m telling you- You are not alone in this. I feel the call to the Light, just as you feel the call to the Dark. Both of us are trying our hardest to resist it, sticking to what we think is the side we should be. I’ve come to terms with who I am, Rey. I’m not letting others tell me who I should be anymore. You have people telling you who should you be too, but here’s the important question, Rey; Who do you think you should be? Where do you belong?”

“I… I don’t feel like I belong to either. I mean- Less than a year ago I didn’t think the Force even existed. I feel so out of place in all of this, and I… I don’t know. I don’t know, Ben.”

“You will,” Kylo assures her, his tone one of certainty. “Maybe not today, but one day- One day, you’ll know.”

Even though he wouldn’t admit it, Kylo could feel his body beginning to succumb to its exhaustion. He slid back down until he was lying down on his back, letting his eyelids flutter shut and sink into the comfortable darkness that enveloped him, despite the itchiness of the sand under his back from the few irritating grains that had been swept inside.

“Until that day comes, I’ll do what I can to help you.”

This time, Rey made sure enough time had passed since he last spoke, confident that this time he had finally given in to sleep before she spoke to him once more.

“That’s what scares me the most,” Her voice was barely a whisper, so quiet that she could scarcely hear herself. “Because every second I spend with you, I feel myself being pulled closer. To you, and to the Dark. And I’m terrified that one day, I won’t be able to stop myself from giving in.”

Link To Chapter 5

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo fanfiction #kylo ren/rey #ben solo/rey

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fadekookie · 5 years

Text

This Could Be Forever (M)

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content, strong language, drinking, public nudity

Word Count: 5.5k

Summary: He’s your best friend and partner in crime until one summer night below the stars, above the water, and entagnled in fate.

A|N—wow this took me the longest but I actually finally finished something! OH! And the main inspo behind this was Summertime by Vince Staples :)))

It was a time like no other. Each season waning and waxing on you, careful to leave pieces of its shadow behind. Shapes of calm and calamity imprint you by the time winds pick up. Each glorious joy staying to sweetly coat your skin as the season changed for you to shelter under when cold swells outside your window. The saccharine memories of freedom below the watching stars and heavens, mutual freedom among the celestial bodies above.

Summertime when the night sky whispered you wisdoms and the sun bargained. It was your favorite.

Preludes under a saturated sky while the humid air of Miami stretched the walls of your lungs were your favorite. A craving for stories which were told on nights like these was suppressed for three seasons of tribulations. A night like this where the earth caressed you as the constellations conspired your fate right before your eyes. However, on a night like this, the fortunes of the universe were not just your’s to keep. Another pair of orbs sat on a lounge chair behind you, drinking the darkness above so thoroughly you worried the sun would rise early.

On this night your thoughts were shared over wine with Sehun. He sat leaning back on the palms of his hands as he spoke to the stars, “I hope I never wake up.” The blue of the pool next to you reflected on his elysian features and cascaded in tones down the expanse of his neck further carving out his jaw. From your lying position on the ground, you could only make out the familiar pursing of your best friend’s lips. The alcohol has long since tainted your blood a darker red, so, his comment was only usual for such a scene.

A soft laugh escapes you, “And what do you mean by that?”

Even in your adrift state, you could not let yourself get washed away by his beautiful vagueness, which so effortlessly fell from the dangerous curve of his lip. You knew where this would lead as it was not the first night you walked yourself into a maze. This maze was something forthcoming and terrifying when he began to shine in the night. His words carried you so gently before and your head would spin at the magic he mused with you on nights like these. Nights like these his obliviously cruel tongue burnt at the perimeter of your heart and left you exhausted from an incomplete inferno.

“You know what I mean,” his voice was smooth like the untouched water of the pool, “ there’s only such a small chance we actually exist, that you’re real and you’re here listening to what I say.” His expression was soft and submitting to the universe as you examined him more. Your heart howled at you from within with a painful hunger to complete his thoughts, but you didn’t. You couldn’t when you knew a maze awaited you.

“Maybe I do,” you teased sitting up to lean on your forearms, “and that’s why you have to live here and now before this reality ends.” Straightening further, your small hand clasped around the cold neck of the wine bottle. The liquid plunged down your throat and into your stomach, spreading warmth to your organs from the contact as if in an effort to feed the small flames lining you already.

“Let’s live then,” Sehun spoke in a delicate surrender.

“What should we do?” You pursue, hoping for something to come up which will quell the glossy lust clouding your eyes. Your fingers were anxious to touch as you took another filling of the spirit. You best friend’s gaze fixed on the cyan body illuminated by the lights of the walls encompassing it. The powerless expression he wore for the stars shifted into a mischievous smirk. Relief steadied you briefly as you knew he would say something less than intelligent. The deepest parts of his soul which the both of you were unveiling for the sky had hidden again and the heaviness of desire left you. The craving to learn each thing he’s equating in his mind lifted from your limbs when he cocked his brow and fixed on you.

“Skinny dipping?”

Freedom was an awful, terrible thing. Moments ago you relished the cosmos adhering to your fingertips, but now the appetitive soul of you clenched at your mind telling you to discard any sense. The hot embers tickling your chest multiplied as a heavy sigh rushed from your mouth. The tension on your brain released and you answered, “Sure.”

Surprise was an understatement. Sehun was not shocked or astonished. He was concerned when examining you, taking the bottle of wine as if you had too much. He was not alone in confusion. Maybe it was the liquor making you diverge from the comfortably defensive demeanor you wore, but such a response would never have left you sober. Your mind swelled with pressure once again at the brisk realization of what you said and how out of character it was.

“Y/n, I was joking.” He laughed lightly while turning his scrutiny to the pool.

Usually, you wouldn’t have spent a moment thinking over his offer before imploring a ‘no.’ Usually, you would have passed up the opportunity for intimacy with Sehun since freedom was such a frightening feat. When it was just you and the galaxy, your freedom was willed and welcomed. You were loved and glorified by omniscient things existing lightyears away. Sehun attracted contrasting freedom which was adorned in fire. A fire so bright and appetizing it was painful to simply stand and refuse it. Usually, you would stand and hurt, ignoring the goosebumps decorating your soft skin as flames played with your limbs.

But on this night you were too cold and Sehun burnt too red. You were anxious to be covered in flares of him. His watch, his touch, his thought. Whatever freedom would offer you wanted to soak in him and drink him just as he did the sky.

“I wasn’t,” your voice was bright and innocent in the darkness. Sehun looked back over at you, “But the security in your building is so tight, and I bet they have cameras everywhere... aren’t you worried?”

You simply smiled, “I am here, you are here, whether for real or not, I want to stop existing and live.”

With this, the vast expanse of your legs revealed itself as you rose from the concrete. “And I’m pretty sure there are no cameras here anyway,” you affirmed while lifting your tank top and disposing of it next to the hoodie you took off long before. You could feel his eyes trailing the barren terrain of your back, moving down your spine to where your shorts gripped your hips. Your nimble digits slid this article off too and kicked it to the developing pile of garments. Sehun still sat there unmoving with his stare fixed on you and your every movement. Memorizing the way your hands moved to undress yourself and the freckles kissing your skin in various places. He was mastering you and each curve adorning your figure as if you would really vanish. His knuckles turned white as he unknowingly choked the sides of the patio furniture with his clutch. There was a faint shaking in his exhale as your bra joined the pile and then your thong. You were stark before him and you did not turn to see his expression since the tension in your chest was already making your head spin, but you liked it. You relished the way you burnt from the feeling. You liked it so much you feared you’d melt. So, you became enraptured in the cold arms of the water.

Sehun shot up from his seat, impatient to follow you. his eyes never left you as he undressed, haphazardly throwing his articles behind him. The picture of your distorted figure submerged and almost goddess-like under the bending of the crystal surface was unbelievable. Sehun devoured you whole from where he stood overlooking the pool, bare for you like you for him. He watched the way your lips perfectly parted to take a breath as you came up and the way your hair layered on top of the water and on your chest, further making you look like something unreal. Drops of water clung to the high points of your face making you appear regal in the moonlight with your eyes closed the way they were.

Before you could rub the water away and open them, Sehun had disappeared beneath the layer of blue.

His long body made its way behind you into the deep end. The tickle in your chest quelled only slightly when you noticed the stars again. Bright and magnificent even through the light pollution of the bustling metropolis around you.

“You’re not a person to fear leaving this life early.” His voice resonated in the humidity.

“You would know,” your voice was subdued, as if not to let the sky hear, “my motto.”

“Regrets don’t exist,” he quoted you verbatim. His thoughts were with you as he scrutinized the galaxy above, “You are a walking, talking, breathing loop-hole, y/n.” He didn’t turn to you, but you could feel the smile in his voice, “How can you live thinking everything happened for the better so that you don’t regret it if you hate the idea of fate?”

He was right, but you were too buzzed to compete with him like you usually would. The frisson his voice sent through you each time his spoke was pressuring enough. “I must stay sane somehow Mr. Oh.”

He feigned surprise, “And keep living in a euphemism? Miss (y/l/n), how do you plan to solve the universe and get us out of this simulation?”

“As long as it's with you, I don’t mind.” It escaped you but you were too immersed in the feel of the water on you as you floated, body bare and displayed for anybody to see. For Sehun to see.

There was the sound of water moving before Sehun poke again. He’s moving around, moving closer to you as you heard the shift of liquid get progressively louder. As the sheer spur-of-the-moment mentality dulled, a familiar raving thrill rejoiced in your core at the thought of him looking at you. The sound of water sliding past Sehun’s body was overlapped by him speaking, “y/n?”

You hummed innocently in response, standing up in the water to face him. the water peeled around his torso as he approached you. Sehun was built there was no doubt about it. you were the first person he told about wanting to become fit. You’ve seen his chest multitudes of times before, but it has never looked as appetizing as now.

His taut breast caught the moonlight beautifully and at that moment you never thought you’d find a male chest so mouthwateringly gorgeous. Beads of the pool rolled from his front and fell to his abdomen before reuniting with the large body of water. The protruding of his chest seemed contoured for your hand and it took more than everything in you to pull from your spinning mind and stop yourself from touching him.

“Promise you won’t wake up and leave me in this reality, or unreality, by myself.” His tone was steady and quiet, only meant for the two of you. the blue light from the pool sharpened his face as his eyes, lidded, took you in. Meeting his anthracite optics you wished to never see the night sky again, for every constellation and supernova was bursting behind his burning stare. You wanted to name each twinkle in the set and study it. He carried a universe in himself, infinite in knowledge waiting, yearning for you to discover it.

“You’re selfish.” The words were prompt leaving you, incriminating as they collided with the air. “How so?” Sehun returned, his sound the softest it has been.

“How do you expect me to solve this universe if I can’t leave?” His distance from you had become perilous in the time the water shifted while you spoke. You did not notice the subtle ripples being created each time he stirred just as you did not notice how nauseatingly close he was.

“Will you not return for me?” His countenance was pleading and childlike. Something behind his gaze seemed to have detached, let go and succumbed to unknown omnipotence.

“Why should I?” You pushed him, stretching whatever seemed to be expanding in his stare.

“How dare you say I’m the selfish one.”

Sehun didn’t allow you the liberty of retorting. You couldn’t speak. Not because you didn’t know what to say or because the invisible choke on you had become too gripping.

You couldn’t speak while his lips were on yours. His tender, warm, wet lips mellowing into yours. Your legs became stone underwater, weighing you down. You could not move. The duplicity of your nervous system rendering you immobile. A bomb seemed to have gone off in your head because you felt lightheaded. The gaseous toxins effusing to your vessels and blood. You were spinning and yet, the heaviness of your solid legs kept you still.

As the smoke cleared from behind your closed eyes you took him in. Never opening your eyes you took him in and dissected Sehun. His lips were an ambiguity, cold at contact but erupting in a conflagration milliseconds later. His entire being an anomaly which touches you, cold and dripping in pool water but unraveling a scorching hell on your skin. A beguiling touch indicative of Lucifer. A force you could not nor desired to combat. You were afraid he could taste the avarice on your tongue.

His hands found their way gripping your shoulders, keeping you steady, as if you would melt and join the water the moment your lips parted. You felt the same, fearing his own being would dissolve like sugar. Your hand slithered up his bare chest to wrap possessively around his neck. To claim him yours before the water or stars or air could. Before some kind of malign force swept him away, diffusing in the breeze and disappearing. Your other palm pressed to his firm frame.

His hands began to explore the landscape of your body, from the swell of your breasts to the valleys of your collarbones, to the curve of your spine as you arched into him like a tree to light. Your lips were moving together slowly, sensually. You were not rushed, not yet. You were desperate to memorize the flavor of each kiss he poured into you. To ingrain the way his tongue dominated you in your mind.

The empty universe was deafening around you. The sweet song of desperate exhales leaving Sehun got louder and clearer each second. the wet sound of his lips pulling you in was maddening as it swirled around your head. It was, for a lack of better words, hot.

god, he was hot.

Tough features with a steel grip you prayed would leave marks. Your hands scanned his body impatiently, never staying in one place for more than a second. You were the red for him in a world of blue as he set you in an unforgiving fire.

It was when one of his hands ventured to grab the ample flesh of your ass that the beautiful sounds flooding your mind dulled.

“Yes, Hank I’ll pick it up on my way back from work.”

A distant, annoyed dialogue impaled the atmosphere. Instinctively, you tore your body from Sehun’s to assess the scene.

“Shit,” you hissed when you caught sight of one of the security guards holding a phone vexingly to her ear as she approached the gate to the pool.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cursed flailing in the water to reach the artificial bank and pull yourself from the volume.

Sehun’s reaction was more languid than yours. his head turned slowly, but once realizing the threat he rushed behind you. Neither of you bothered to trudge through the water to the stairs so you briskly pulled from the water using the ledge.

You were a wet mess, chaotic like a hurricane on the once dry pavement as you struggled to pull at least some coverage on. You had skipped underwear all together as the aimless voice of the security guard neared. Sehun did not take much time at all dressing in a nonchalant pair of joggers and throwing on his white button-up. The feeble material clung to each crevice in his torso with the adhesive of water. If it were not for the approaching staff, you would’ve lingered just to test how long your willpower would last. Desiring to stay and tease yourself by tracing each imposing shape on his stomach and chest until you could not take it anymore. Until you crumbled, fingers eager to explore each protrusion and indent in him.

You didn’t though. Instead, you raced to the alcohol which was disregarded when you both submerged, scooping it in one hand with your underwear in the other. You had to get your keys and phone as well, and this posed a challenge. With the approaching voice of the security guard, there were not many ideas you could conjure. You and Sehun had ended up walking back with you holding the wine in one hand and other household necessities in the other while Sehun trailed not too far behind you with your underwear in the pocket of his joggers. At a point, he’d also taken the bottle from your quivering hold.

The couple of you hastened past the guard, both politely nodding knowing she had other cares in the world than why you and Sehun looked as if you were caught in the deluge of hurricane season. The walk back to your apartment seemed prolonged and became grueling at a point when the rough denim of your shorts would rub against your clit.

There was no doubt Sehun turned you on previously, and your clit had been throbbing for him since then, desperate for friction. Your teeth dug into your lip in a needy bite, obscuring your heavy breaths.

Sehun had no problem keeping up with your seemingly impossible pace. But then, why were you in a rush? What would happen when you got upstairs? Would the scene continue beneath the cloak of your home perched up in the sky? Would he have sobered up by then choosing to forget anything happened?

These judgments hung in the air around you, clinging to the ambiance like clouds which thickened the oxygen entering your chest. Their heaviness drifted with you into the contrasting air of the chilled building when you entered.

Certainly, this is the longest it has taken the elevator to get to your floor. Although the same minute and thirty seconds passed between the lobby and the twentieth floor, they were distant and imaginary. Time became something unreliable when Sehun’s sensible eyes focused into your’s the way they did then. His stare was nothing alarming, rather it was smug. There was something in the systems orbiting there, something keen to laughter. His eyes laughed as they were effortlessly lidded meeting yours. It wasn’t something of satire or taunting, but pleasure. Murky pleasure spiraling like galaxies in his stare. You could see his enjoyment in his easy inhales and the hidden quirk in his lip which you wouldn’t have caught had you not been so desperately ogling. Your eyebrows shot up when you saw him lazily tilt his head against the paneled mirror, perpetuating his analysis of you. His jaw looked absolutely magnificent. Gloriously statuesque in his sedated posture. Your focus ran downward, to his broad collar stretching into his wide frame, impossibly perfect. As if molded by Michelangelo, each etching in him was divine and alien.

You did not notice your tongue had been playfully toying along your upper lip in a galvanizing gesture as you suddenly grew envious of the pathetic cloth clinging to Sehun’s body. he was completely maddening in this state, something godly resembling Poseidon.

The elevator slowed to a mellow ping as the steel door slid open to your floor. Your body moved before your mind could, rushing you to your door. A shiny two numbers hanging above the peephole reading “20A.”

You smoothly turned the key, the door releasing a click before you pushed it open. When inside you went to drop the keys off in a wooden bowl neatly place on a small table near the entrance.

The air of your living space was different. It was cold and light and unappetizing when compared to the expansive humidity of outside. Some would savor the contrast swimming on their skin and in their lungs, but you found it rather unsettling and erasing. after all, it had been hot, and you were not ready to lose the embers Sehun left on you to the air conditioning.

“Did you bring the wine?” you feigned, unconcerned.

Sehun was quiet for a moment with your back faced to him. You had walked to stand in the middle of your living room, focus directed on the lively city beyond the line of the ceiling to floor windows.

The shuffle of feet and a high clink followed behind you as Sehun placed the wine on the granite counter waiting in your kitchen.

“You know,” he announced followed by the sound of more steps on the wood floor, “for a strict building you’re pretty reckless.”

Sehun was now behind you, neck craned to whisper in your ear. his hot breath returning the sensations from before. goosebumps blossomed on your skin. You thought that you would freeze and die if he didn’t touch you. If he didn’t scorch you with his hands and lips. You feared it so much you shook slightly, drawing in a shuddering inhale when you no longer felt the heat of his words on your neck.

“Sehun....” the word floated from your lips like water evaporating in the dense air.

“I wish I’d lived sooner,” his voice was hushed yet commanding.

A gasp broke from you when a large hand snaked around you, fitting to your core. His other hand rested on your waist.

“I wish I’d kissed you sooner,” he confessed, voice dark. Weak exhales shuddered from you as a Sehun pressed. The other hand burgeoned beneath the soaked material clinging to your skin just as you wanted to cling to him. Pulling him, touching him, gripping his forearms and biceps then letting your height sink into his broad enrapture.

Sehun had caressed your left breast. “If I were not the coward to fear life,” he forced through nearly gritted teeth, “I’d have made your lips crave me long before.” The words came out heavy as if some kind of toxic gas meant to make the air thick and unbreathable. Hot, damp, thick. Your inhales were a subject of effort now.

You hummed in impatience when he squeezed you, thumb playing with your hard nipple. his palm began to maneuver against your clothed clit in circles.

He spoke again, “I’d have shown you how badly I want you to stay in my life.” He began to leave kisses on your neck as he continued, “I’d have announced you as my purpose.”

“Mr. Oh, I do believe I don’t belong to anyone,” it took your entire strength to tease him this way, a fatally innocent mien.

His low chuckle vibrated against your collar. His hand disappeared from where it was on your sex. Sehun rose to whisper in your ear once more, “My apologies.” As he stretched out these words his hand had slipped down the front of your shorts, continuing its previous job. The raw contact felt like your diaphragm had shrunk too small to support your lungs. You believed you would collapse in his arms there for how weak he made your usually self-sufficient exterior. Your character, usually ruthless in getting what you want, stubborn in having things done the right way, was bending for Sehun.

“However,” his fingers circled around your clit, drawing jagged exhales from you, “I am the only one that can ever be remotely good enough for you…” the hand which had been playing with your breast left to wrap slightly around your neck as his other hand moved in torturously slow patterns. Sehun gently tilted your neck to the side as if like a vampire getting ready for its prey, “I am yours as much as you desire and more” he began to suck on the supple skin of your jugular. You whimpered in response as he continued, “I need you, I’ve needed you… for so long I needed you, and I want you to be mine now.”

“I’m yours,” you declared, taking his wrist and halting his motions, pulling his hand away and turning to face him. Your irises kept his as you took his fingers in your mouth, swirling your tongue around them as you sucked. His face looked hard yet fragile as if on the tipping point of breaking his smolder and capitulating into you.

His other hand rose to caress your cheek as his eyes told you to stop. You removed his fingers from your mouth only to feel his colliding with yours. This kiss was rough, desperate, hungry unlike the sweet slowness you felt at the pool. Fire seemed to bloom from him, encasing you in a cocoon of heat. He backed you against the glass panels.

His lips were as soft as they were before. plump and perfect, catering to your every corner. You pulled him in by his collar as if he could kiss you deeper this way, as if you could feel him closer to you, getting high on him.

His arms roamed the landscape of you, hiking up your shirt in the process as you worked at the buttons on his.

It wasn’t long before you were naked again and all that was left on him were his pants. You slipped those off as well and he kicked them to the aside, your underwear still neatly tucked away in their pocket.

You felt Sehun, hard, and prodding into your thigh as he stuck to your body, his hands perfectly fitting around your ass and in the curve of your waist. “God I have never wanted something as badly as I do you,” he breathed.

At this, your lips quirked menacingly and your hand wandered to wrap around his needy member. “Oh really?” You purred, stroking him at an agonizingly slow pace. You did not meet his eyes and instead stared at his stiff chest, drawing random lines there with your finger. He pulled your face towards his in response kissing you fiercely, proving how much his lips longed for yours. “Fuck, baby, yes—,” his words came out in groans, “You’re everything.”

Your smirk only provoked him into removing your hands to hold them above you as his free hand played with your pussy. “How unfair.” He whispered. His long fingers rubbed circles into your clit earning gasps from you.

Your mind swam and your eyes closed in surrender. A whine spilled into the thickening air of your apartment. Mellow tremors whirled in your stomach and your chest heaved when a finger slipped in you.

His strokes against your sex were torturous and languid, punishing for something you could not decipher. You wanted, needed more of him. Your hips rolled into his hand as if begging with a conscience of their own.

Pulling up to Sehun’s ear you whispered, “Bottom drawer of my nightstand.”

His fingers stopped and you whimpered, but he did not leave at your statement which deemed as more of a command. “Who said you were in charge, kitten.”

His fingers returned, though only to run them in slow, harrowing paths along your lips, eyebrows knitting in frustration at the lack of him inside you, your core burning as you whined.

“Sehun, please,” you groaned.

“God I swear I’m going to make your moans my ringtone,” he continued to tease, “you’re so fucking hot, kitten.”

The name stuck out, filling your chest with more heat. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

“Y-you, Sehun. I just want you to fuck me,” you cried, exasperated at his taunting fingers still trailing about your pussy. You saw his smirk, sculpted by the light of the moon pouring through the windows. Then, he left, only to return shortly with a foil packet between his fingers. You rolled the condom onto him, leisurely, retribution for what he curtailed prior.

You jumped, legs wrapping around his waist, his long fingers charring where they gripped your hips. His hold on you feels like iron still hot from when it was poured, burning beautiful red into your ass and hips. his breathing was melodic to you, sedating you further. The elegantly sloppy pattern of his exhales as they were cut off by kisses to your bare skin. Sehun had positioned himself at your entrance and you place your arms around his neck.

You looked up to him emulating what you prayed to be the sexiest gaze he’ll see in his lifetime. He reciprocated your cryptic eyes which swam with sins. His eyes shone with the same drunk, tender desire.

He pushed in slowly. Tight and wet around him, he growled at the way your face twisted in pleasure. The pounding of your heart resonated in your ears and swelled in your own head as you groaned for friction. You rolled your hips, whining, begging, “S-Sehun...”

The cool surface of the window collided with your flushed skin as Sehun thrust into you. Softly, carefully, cautious not to break you. Though, you worried more about the panes behind. He continued this way, steadily accelerating his pace as you moaned in approval.

His cock: magic. Him: divine. Filling you in ways you didn’t think possible, stretching you in dimensions you didn’t think could be real. Making love in a way that left no room for anything but love. His soul aching, crying out to get closer, and closer. To touch you and feel you until each centimeter of your flesh was a site of it conquest. Found and felt and forgotten so it could happen all over again.

His deep moan vibrated against your lips between his hot fuck and ravished kiss. The world had never felt this heavy on you, so compressing and tight. the air had never been so full in your chest, overflowing with each breath. Your body unacquainted with the conflagration that was Sehun.

His hips became rapid, snapping in and out of you as your heart raced in your chest. The pinch on your body had never been so consuming with an edge running down your spine in prickles.

He leaned into your chest as your head hit the glass at the sensation. Your toes curling and muscles tensing into knots as your nails dug into his back, sure to leave marks. Sehun’s thrusts were in tempo with his grunts as you rode out your high and he anticipated his. Euphoria seemed to burst from you like light from a beacon. Pleasure pulsing in your temples and swelling in your ears. Coursing through your blood and throbbing in your joints as you cried for the last time with such utter ecstasy pouring out.

With a couple more thrusts he spilled into the plastic and you shivered with the feel of him continuing inside you.

As your pants settled his head rose to look you in the eye. Sehun pulled you to him, locking your lips in a sweet, victorious, reassuring kiss. You whimpered into his lips at the feeling of him still inside you. Detaching from you he disposed of the condom and strolled over to the bathroom, noticing and enjoying the way you ogled him. The sweet smile wouldn’t leave your face as Sehun cleaned you up and got under the covers beside you, turning to face you, to hold you; an arm gripping about your waist to pull you into him. Dropping his head he planted small kisses beneath your ear and under your jaw continuing up to meet your lips in yet another saccharine kiss that you both couldn’t help but smile into, earning gentle giggles from you.

A small hand came up to touch a porcelain canvas. He was ironically pale for Miami you’d always thought. You giggled again at the thought. The alcohol, the sex, and he swam through your blood, lading your limbs and mind. You could drift among those tides running through you. And you began to do so. your hand still on Sehun’s cheek. The corners of his lips stretched as he saw your eyelids heavy, the smile yet to leave your face. an angel you lay before him he thought.

“This while,” he trailed his voice low and quiet not to disturb you, “This while and it's you” you didn’t respond, still smiling back at him eyelids nearly shut and drooping with exhaustion.

“It's you,” he paused to turn and kiss your hand, still resting on his cheek, “God, it's you, I love you, baby.” He’d whispered to himself as you drifted away. Sehun watched you sleep before he too fell.

#sehun x reader #exosnet #oh sehun x reader #oh sehun #osh #sehun #exo #exo au #exo ff #bestfriend!sehun #wowthistookmewaytoolong!#exo scenarios #exo smut #exo imagines

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enniewritesathing · 5 years

Text

Part 8

(Beginning)

(Three months have passed since the incident in Granite Falls. Those who were present during the surprise blizzard, it was dubbed a mystery. It didn’t matter to either John or Brian, but they both knew they needed to find information before the impending supermoon.)

(Leads were few and far in between. Noelle had salvaged what she could, offering a singular brown box full of files. The files themselves were full of redactions, but Brian’s keen eye and stubbornness noted small mistakes. Names. Places. Dates.)

(The name of the hospital that John was held. The research team in itself -- the occult specialists. Brian dug around for names, leads. Most of them resided in Forgotten Hollow with the vampires, but there has been a small migration to San Myshuno and Newcrest. It’s an easy way to blend in, open up speciality practices.)

(Those places always had a vibe to them. One that Brian couldn’t comprehend, but John understood, even as a human. A question has lingered in the back of Brian’s mind ever since he saw John transform in front of him, but he remembered that his other side made some clarifications -- is there really separation between the two?)

(He knows that John has been relatively quiet since then, as if he doesn’t remember at all. Or doesn’t want to. Brian hasn’t pushed him for anything that may bring up bad memories -- and if that does happen, John cuts him off.)

(It’s... been a frustrating three months. Information wise. Behavior wise. He wants answers as well. Piece together this new-found situation and adapt to it as much as they can.)

(Even if he has to take drastic measures.)

(Brian makes his way to a part of the hospital that is woefully underused.)

(He enters the small lab room and locks it behind him.)

(Brian has spent weeks scouting this place out, in lulls of his shift. Night time was the better time, given time to file paperwork and work on research, but his absence is noted; during the day time, when things are hectic it was easy to slip away, but staff is already on the short side as it is. Especially since there’s a Llama Flu epidemic.)

(He better make this quick.)

(Brian looks up.)

(Hmm, the sign’s changed. Could also be a security camera, but it would be useless from how it’s angled. And he didn’t need to worry about the door or windows -- the door in particular that it’s frosted from the outside. He can have more time to react.)

(What luck that this computer isn’t connected to the hospital network. He can work with piece of mind.)

(Brian turns on the burner phone and activates the VPN service, along with bringing up the addresses and specific directions.)

Brian: “Okay... this better work.”

(His fingers work the keyboard. Three different addresses. A string of numbers, letters, and symbols. Gibberish to most people’s eyes.)

*click!*

(Several windows pop up, but the window with the red bar catches his interest. A download bar. It’s slow but, it’s going.)

(His phone pings.)

(Brian smiles. It’s John. He’s at home.)

(Hopefully, he won’t tear through the streets with the Jeep, but given that he’s said he wanted to try out the new snow tires, well... he better not see him come through the ER doors.)

(Come on, come on... Brian wiggles the mouse back and forth to make the bar load faster, even if he knows that that never works.)

Computer: *chime*

Brian: “Oh shit, that actually worked?”

(Okay, next step... drop them into the cloud account he set aside. The previous data he gotten was at least ten gigabytes worth, and most online services offered free accounts half or even a quarter of the size.)

“Oof, twenty-six gigs? Must not know how to compress things...”

(As he moves the files into the cloud, he notes some of the name files and extensions. There’s footage, too? But... why...?)

(He’s about to click on a file.)

*beep-beep! beep-beep!*

(Shit. A page.)

(It’ll have to wait until he gets home. Four more hours. There’s a nagging feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Maybe should have brought something to eat here too...)

(Brian exits out of everything, and makes a final sweep of the room. Everything’s back the way he’s found it.)

(Time to go back to work.)

(After a delay caused by a combination of the weather kicking up more snow than forecasted and John forgetting the slip itself, the highly anticipated files from Strangerville were finally in their hands.)

(The packages even included a laptop. It’s old and a little wanting as a whole, but at least it was functional.)

(Most of the boxes contained thin books organized neatly into volumes. This was only the first set of records. Might as well ease himself into this information. There’s no telling what’s in all of this, even if it’s about him.)

(John grabs his reading glasses and settles in for the long haul.)

(The pages are thin. It’s even handwritten. At least it’s neat and understandable -- segmented and dated entries. But what he doesn’t understand, why go through the trouble of handwriting it when there’s computerized entries too? Some of them were just one line, and others were multiple paragraphs and pages, signed off with various letters but no real names.)

(Some entries contain his name -- formal name -- and others simply as ‘Subject’. That’s odd... he scrutinises further. The language with his formal name is casual, but the ones with Subject contained words that he recognized to be medical in nature.)

“1.9.0X -- Conduction of tests on Subject and Subject’s mother. Confirmed affliction of Lycanism, also known as Lycanthropy, slang term Werewolf via heredity. Subject’s mother is a confirmed Grade 1 out of Grade 4. Subject is confirmed Grade 2 out of Grade 4. Posthumous confirmation of Subject’s twin is confirmed Grade 2 out of Grade 4. We could not confirm Subject’s father’s Grade, but we can conclude his father was of Lycan nature. This means that Subject is youngest confirmed Lycan in seventy-five years. - C.”

John: “Holy shit...”

“1.10.0X -- I can’t believe it. A lycan this young. And survived early transformation. We informed his mother. She’s... in shock. Lycans are extremely rare now. She didn’t know that about herself, let alone her son or deceased son. Wish the other one survived, but, he turned far too early. With this, we can study and get better information about lycans! However, we did have to answer for why we put him in a coma... for safety reason. It was because he attacked T. Mangled his ankle pretty good. - F.”

(”Mangled?”)

“1.13.0X -- Johnathan wakes from induced coma. He is mostly confused, but otherwise fine. Doesn’t quite understand what happened. The last thing he remembers is feeling hot and then passing out. Confirmed with mother that his fever was getting worse with time. Not a coincidence that it was in time with the moon. I asked Johnathan if he remembers anything else before passing out. He replies with, “just a wolf staring at me, wanting me to ‘turn’.” I ended the interview to let Johnathan and his mother rest. - K.”

“1.15.0X -- Subject is alert. Very alert and combative. He calls for his mother. It takes us a full hour to calm him down. We tried to inform him why he is here, but he is borderline belligerent. It’s best that we contact his mother. - C.”

“1.15.0X -- Okay... that didn’t go as well as we’d hope but what do you expect, he’s like twelve years old! You tell a child his age that he’s an occult! C’s bedside manner sucks. It broke my heart to see little Johnathan’s reaction to the news that he’s a lycan. He thinks he’s a monster... - R.”

“1.16.0X -- The moon as waned enough that John’s not capable of turning, so we’re discharging him today. I gave some contact information to his mom to keep in touch, and instruct her to come straight to us the first sign of turning -- and I instructed John to keep a journal. Daily if he can. We can’t let the public know about this. There’s still occult hunters around. Vampires have strength in numbers so it’s not big of a deal to them; they know their shit. Lycans are so few and far in between, they’re critically endangered. Not only that, they’re elusive. It’s our job to protect this boy and his mother. But it’s also our job to learn who and what they are. - O.”

(John sighs. Not the information he’s quite looking for... but he is curious about these people’s perspective and conceptions of him. It seems like they’re looking out for him at the time. He wonders what happened for them to completely stop all of this. He’s also interested in finding the journals he was asked to make... he doesn’t remember doing that at all. Maybe it’s with the stuff Mom has.)

(A few hours into reading the sixth notebook, John’s eyes grew unfocused and he decided to rest them. That ‘rest’ turned into a two hour nap with him snoring away on the couch.)

(Spaghetti looks on and meows.)

John: (in sleepy voice) “What, honey?”

(She meows again. That tone.)

John: “Alright, alright... don’t eat too much this time, okay?”

(After he feeds the cat, he decides to stretch a little bit with some light boxing drills. As much as he wants to read more, vegging out on the couch isn’t something he can do for long.)

(Something bugs him though. He doesn’t remember any of the times he’s spent in the hospital. Just passing out and waking up in them. Not even turning.)

(What the hell happened?)

(Brian scrolls through another entry, but he doesn’t bother with the attached video. The majority of them were simple observations, going over vitals and John’s condition. Nothing out of the ordinary... yet.)

(Then...)

“9.25.1X -- Going over this data, these tests... they’re not enough. We have to start taking measures. After all this time, we don’t know his exact triggers aside from the moon. They’re all over the place. Once it was caused by moonlight contacting exposed skin, another by looking at it for more than 15 seconds... here’s the odd part of this, it’s only on supermoons, every 3-4 months. We’ve compared it to Grade 3 and 4 Lycans and... well, John’s different. He’s in his were-state for much longer. Last time, it was a week and a half. Grades 3 and 4 only lasts 1 night, 2 at the most. We’ll try something else. I’ll suggest to monitor his vitals before and after letting him turn. That is, if he doesn’t resist. - I.”

“9.26.1X -- Subject has been brought in. He is close to turning, but is resistive and combative. He refuses, stating that ‘it’ will kill someone, maybe more. In the past, Subject has been instructed to resist ‘it’, but it’s starting to put strain on his body. We locked Subject down and let him turn. As suggested, we monitored his vitals and made observations and baseline measurements for the next time. See attatchment. - A.”

(Brian is about to click on the link, but John enters the kitchen. He eyes him from beneath his brow as John rummages through the refridgerator, whistling a tune. Something tells him he better not look at it right now.)

John: “Found anything yet?”

Brian: “Hmm, nothing that’s really... how to I put this. Nothing that we don’t know about yet. I’ve taken notes these past few days based on what you know, what I know, and what your mom’s told me. And there’s still a lot from the stuff we got from Strangerville that we need to go through... what about you?”

John: “I found some things back when I was a kid. Back when it first started.”

Brian: “Really? That’s great!”

John: “I wouldn’t call it great... it’s interesting for sure. Weird too. These people were taking notes on me like some kind of animal...”

(Brian clears his throat.)

John: “I’ve read some entries and... most of them seemed they weren’t creepy. Except this person, ‘C’. They don’t even call me by my name. To them, I’m ‘Subject’.

Brian: “I just read something refering you as Subject, but this person went by ‘A’...”

John: “When you have to study someone, what do you refer to them as?”

Brian: “Usually by ‘patient’ and non identifying markers for privacy reasons. Something like, Mr. H, Mrs. Y, Ms. W, Mx. B... ‘Subject’? I’m not too keen on. Too cold. It’s likely that they’re older.”

John: “Hmm... that can explain it. I still don’t know who’s the lead researcher. Or why it was stopped. I know my mom said she ended it, but there’s got to be more to it than that. And, I don’t remember most of this happening.”

Brian: “Oh? What are your thoughts on that?”

(John chews on his food thoughtfully. His mouth is becoming more sensitive by the day.)

“I think... maybe they were drugging me.”

Brian: “What?”

John: “Think about it. How else were they able to do all of this? I’ve read that I had to be put into a coma. For ‘safety’; I attacked someone and messed up their ankle. Mangled.” (He pauses.) Someone else said, while it was their job to protect me, they also needed to know who and what I am. But I don’t remember anything. Do you think--”

Brian: “--Let’s not think about that right now, John. We still have a lot to go through all of these things. What we have, and go from there. I know that may be a possibility, but I like to think that these people were ethical in their methods.”

(John hoped Brian didn’t hear the spike of frustration in his sigh. Something isn’t adding up at all.)

(John finishes his dinner in silence. Brian knows exactly what he’s implying and he hope that isn’t the case. That’s going too far. ...Maybe he was right to tell off his contact.)

(Brian watches the video. It’s in black and white and medium quality. A ceiling camera is focused on John. He’s on the exam bed with electrodes on his chest, oxygen mask on his face. Wrists and ankles in restraints. His eyes covered. He’s still, but he’s breathing fast. There are two other people with him, on each side, watching. They’re wearing all white scrubs and other things he doesn’t quite recogize, but they are not identifiable in the slightest. In the bottom corner of the video, a monitor displays his vitals.

One grabs his arm. Injects something. They both stand back. His vital spikes into dangerous levels as they watch. They watch him turn before their very eyes. John’s fighting those restraints, but they don’t give. He’s screaming and then goes limp. His vitals crash. The video cuts out after that.)

(Brian... doesn’t know what to do. No, they didn’t. No, they did.)

“9.16.1X -- Baseline obtained. Subject locked down after turning. He nearly crashed on us, but I surmise that survival instinct kicked in. His or the lycan’s side, not sure yet. He’s young, so he’ll be able to take what we can dish out. We don’t have much data on Grade 2 Lycans, so if there is a time to push for it, it’s here. This may be our only opportunity, so, let’s make the best of it. (see attachment) - C.”

(Brian scrolls down. The files with attachments have a common name -- “Test”. A particular set was labeled HF. A close up of John’s arm, restrained. A scalpel in someone’s hand. A timer in the lower right hand of the video. Scalpel meets skin and cuts down his arm. It takes two minutes for the cut to heal. No mark left behind.

That’s how John’s other side knew he can heal. But... John himself doesn’t. He’s scared to think what else they did to him.

12.14.1X -- C’s been made the lead. Ambitious fucker. We’re all being put through the wringer, but with so little information on this type of occult... I feel sorry for John. I really do. But, as C says, emotions have no place here. They don’t have a heart at all. John’s just a kid, y’know? -- F.)

(Brian closes the laptop and heads for the bookshelf. Where is it, where is it...)

(He remembers taking notes on healing factors, but they were vague at the time. With this evidence, he can piece together information. Baseline vitals...)

(It’s simple really.)

(They were occult specialists. That much is true, otherwise, there’s no telling what would have happened to John.)

(It’s an awful truth. It confirms his suscipion. But, does he want John to find out for himself, or should he tell him? Or even tell him at all? It’s his turn to protect him and that’s a silent promise he made to himself. But he also needs to know.

This sucks.)

(The next few nights, snow fell as much as it did when they stayed in Granite Falls. Only this time, they were in a familar place. They weren’t snowed in, and while both were on-call, they considered it a mini-vacation of sorts.)

(Brian is snuggled between thick blankets and the fireplace, fast asleep.)

(John is careful going up the stairs. They creak under his weight. The last thing he needs is to interrupt Brian’s sleep -- he needs it far more than he does. And while snuggling with him when there’s a snowstorm out is about the most perfect he can do in this situation, he can’t. Not right now. He wants answers.)

(John’s been sneaking up to the office these few nights. Papers, files, notebooks...)

(...boxes, packages, X-Rays, CT scans, EKG and EEG papers. Tapes, memory cards...)

(...strewn all over the floor.)

(In the back of his mind, he knows that Brian would give a stern talking to about the mess he’s made. This isn’t much different when he did it back in college, how he would stay up studying until the sun rises and then some.)

(John stares at the mess he’s created. What’s bad about all of this, he still doesn’t feel he’s gotten any answers. Not even when he read through the journals -- all five of them he was asked to keep -- made sense.)

(He picks a book that had some interest to him when he last picked it up. From what he can tell, this was closer before everything stopped.

“2.19.1X -- John’s checked in. He’s showing signs of pre-shifting. Fever at 105.3. Pale. Agitated. A little combative. Complaints of body aches and headaches. Mouthache too. Fangs are coming in. I interviewed him, asking if he’s had any wolf related dreams. He answers, “Yes.” We have given the informal name of “wolf dreams”. They reach their peak around each supermoon. It wants him to turn, but he is still resistive. The result of the resistance is severe flu-like symptoms... and nightmares. Heart rate is elevated at 130, tachypnea present. When he got him settled, heart rate spiked to 160. John reached 180 (The Point of No Return) fifteen minutes later. His control has been slipping lately. Perhaps, he knows he’s safe here and allows himself to give in. Or, it could be something else...? I’ll take it up with C. - F.”

“2.20.1X - I think... he can hear us. John reacted to V’s voice. She was about to check eye function when he opened them and looked at her. Stared at her like she was prey. Scared her, dropped her clipboard. He followed that too. But only for a moment. There was nothing behind those eyes. Freaky shit. - P.”

“2.20.1X -- John’s... spouse? Boyfriend? Whatever relationship he has with him, they’re obviously pretty close. Name’s Brian. Cute. Anyway, he came by for questions. We told him what we could, what we were allowed. I don’t think John’s told him. I have mixed feelings on that, but that’s not my place. Did some sleuthing, he’s a recent nursing graduate from San Myshuno University. Honors. Smart. He was asking some pretty indepth questions. We did a soft observation and John reacted to Brian’s voice. Didn’t open his eyes like he did with V, but we saw movement in his fingers when he left. Hoo boy. I don’t think locking him down will be a viable option for us much longer. We still have tests to conduct. Some we’ve put off for years. - F.”

“2.21.1X -- Based on anedoctic evident, the individual who visted Subject was his significant other. F and D noted a peculiar response Subject made in his presence, or rather as he was leaving. It’s also noticed that there’s a mark on his neck... confirming that he is his bondmate. V and P had an incident yesterday that Subject opened his eyes and focused on them, showing he can hear who is present with him or even outside the room. Is Subject beginning to build resistance to our methods? I’ll have to push up those trials. He’s strong enough to withstand them. - C.”

(John raises his eyebrow. Trials? There’s a note.

“2.22.1X -- We still need to test the full extent of John’s HF. We’ve only done surface tests. No visible marks or scarring on skin, no matter how deep the cut is. Muscle function is fine. The million dollar question is how will his organs fare...? - P.”

“2.22.1X -- I’m looking forward to the reversal trial. Stop that pretty heart of his and see what happens. - E.”

“2.24.1X -- We’ve prepped Subject for the HF trials and the reverse trial. The HF trials will probably not take that long. The reverse trial however... I must admit I am apprehensive about this. Subject may die, and with that, our chances of studying lycans. I did perform a pre-check via ultrasound. It is my understanding that when Subject resists turning, it puts a strain on his body, mostly his heart. It is confirmed that transformation starts around that ‘point’. To surpress it also means supressing the heart. He has done this several times, with a 80% success rate. The reason he’s doing this is because of social pressure -- if one is to find out Subject is an occult, and being a lycan, hell would break loose.

Heart structure is enlarged, but otherwise normal for a lycan in human state. No signs of strain or structure problems. Valves normal. Blood flow normal.

The reversal trial is to see if we can reverse Subject’s lycan state once he has turned without risk of death. The ways, methods, that are known are via silver bullets -- one to the head and one to the heart, decapitation, severe blood loss... Lycans can heal mortal wounds while in their state of wereness. I would like to think of this as... testing and developing a tranquilizer, some sort of medicine for Subject if he wishes to remain in society.

We’ll start tomorrow. - C.”

(What the fuck? Reversal trial?)

(A feeling of dread creeps up on John. He stares at the page. He... he doesn’t want to read anymore. But he has to, for him and his sanity. What is he? What happened?)

(He shakes his head. I need to find out.)

(John sighs as he steels himself to read the next page. He hears... footsteps. His name called. A frustrated noise, and footsteps. The stair steps creak under weight.)

(He looks up.)

Brian: “John! What are you doing up here?”

John: “What does it look like? I’m reading this stuff. I think I’m about to make a breakthrough here. Relax, it’s only eleven o’clock.”

Brian: “It’s one in the morning. Almost two.”

John: “Hm.”

Brian: “John... I’m getting worried about you. You’re getting obsessed and... I’m not sure if this is a good idea anymore.”

John: “Since when did you have a change of heart? You know I need answers and I am not backing off until I get them. You said that we both need to know everything, to be better prepared when I turn again. And I believe ‘again’ is coming in a few weeks. Right? You want me to turn.”

Brian: “Yes, I do, but John, I’ve done some reading myself and trust me... I don’t think you wanna know. Hell. I... I think it’s just better to drop and let it happen.”

John: “Drop it and let-- are you kidding me?”

“I just read a passage about starting trials. Trials! I’ve heard that word before. They did something to me! These papers, these... files and books are all on me alone. I read another that I have a point of no return and it has to do with my heart rate. I didn’t know that before! Or the dreams I have before it’s time to turn.”

(He jabs at the page.) “Someone mentioned a ‘reversal’ trial and apparently it involved stopping my heart.”

“I want to find out!”

(Brian groans. It’s never a good thing that John gets stubborn. He’s not gonna let this go.) “John... listen to me.”

“I... I don’t want you to get hurt from all of this. This? All of these files and information? It’s a lot. It’s a fucking lot! Like I said, I’ve read some of it and... there are some things that you should never read.”

“I know you want to understand what happened. I want to also. But, I’m afraid of what will happen to the both us. We know more about lycans as a whole more than ninety-eight percent of people. One percent are specialists, the other are hunters. We’re approaching dangerous territory here, John.”

John: “Then what should I do, Brian? I’m lost. I don’t remember any of this. I need to know.”

“I need to know... I’m not dangerous. I may be a lycan, probably the last one, but I need to know at least that much. That I can control this on my own without any problems. When I turned, I was scared what I was going to do. That I’d harm you or worst.”

“According to these notes, I already done that a few times to other people, accident or not. They didn’t take it personally, thank god, but the fact that I lashed out doesn’t sit right with me. I... I have a feeling that I may have done something really bad.”

Brian: “You mean... killed someone?”

John: “Yeah.”

Brian: “John... what would you do if you did that? What if you killed one of the researchers? Or more?”

(John doesn’t answer. He has no answer.)

(Brian... mulls on the silence.)

Brian: “I... should probably tell you how I got all of these files. The ones not redacted to hell and back. Including your scans and xrays. I’ll preface that I’m not proud of what I did or said.”

(Brian kneels and John looks at him expectantly. He can’t hold anything back. It’s time to rip the bandaid off.)

Brian: “After we got the files saved from your mom, I went through everything for any clues that we can use. Mostly names. The hospital you were at doesn’t exist anymore, or rather, it never did. Not to the public eye. The notes, as you guessed, doesn’t contain any other name except yours. I’m impressed by the consistancy, but then again, they may not be the same people with the letter they signed with.”

“But... I found a name. And a number on the back of it. I looked it up on the ‘net, and sure enough, it’s them. They’re still working in the occult field. Looks like they’ve been promoted.”

John: “What did you do?”

Brian: “It took me a few days to get the courage to actually speak to them. I did it through professional means. I frame it in a way to pique interest -- a patient with a lot of anomalies. I gave them all the classic symptoms. I told them that, while farfetched, I had a lycan on my hands.”

John: “You set them up.”

Brian: “Yeah. And they asked if it was you by first name.”

John: “And?”

Brian: “I told them everything that they needed to hear for them to loosen up. They were so excited to hear that you were still alive. Hell, they even offered to pick up the research back up, that I’ll be made lead.”

John: “What?!”

John: “Brian, don’t tell me--”

Brian: “Let me finish. The offer was made solely based on the fact that I am close to you. It would be easy to gather data and make observations and you’d be none the wiser.”

(John shakes his head.) “Did... did you tell them I turned?”

Brian: “Yes. And no. I told them that you turned and then disappeared for a few days; when I found you again, you were back to normal but unconscious. I said nothing of being in Granite Falls, that was mere coincidence.”

“They begged me for information. Where we lived, our status. They became belligerent. Told me I was missing out on all the riches and fame of chronicling a lycan’s life.”

“And you know what I said?”

John: “Brian, please tell me you didn’t.”

“Tell me... you didn’t.”

Brian: “I’ll tell you what I told them.”

“I told them they can fuck off; if they ask that of me again, if they even think about harming you again for the sake of science, I will find them them, and I will kill them and anyone you send after us.”

(John gulps. He’s serious. He’s very serious.)

Brian: “I’ll never forsake you. You know that. Hell, I wanted to go after them right then and there. When they asked where we lived, that gave me a thought -- it appears that they didn’t put any tracking implant in you. And trust me, I would have figured that a long time ago.”

“John...” (Brian sighs.) “I want to protect you, but I know you want answers. The things I’ve read, the videos I’ve seen... if you read them, if you watch them, you’ll become vindictive. Angry. Wrathful, maybe. I don’t want that to happen. But, I’ll tell you anyway. You need the truth.”

“You were tortured under the guise of research. The reason you don’t remember any of this, because you were placed in comas the whole time. The medicine that kept you under had an amnesia effect. Your nightmares... are the products of what happened to you during those times.”

“John... I’m sorry.”

(Brian stands up.) “You’re not a monster. You never were.”

“They are.”

“And if you decide to go after them...”

“...I know where to start. Good night, John.”

(John watches Brian leave.)

(The dread is still there.)

(Should I stop?)

(John turns the page with a trembling hand.)

“2.25.1X--”

(A week later.)

(John works the heavy punching bag. He keeps errant thoughts away as he concentrates on his strikes.)

(He ends a combo with a slashing elbow. The bag nearly comes off the wall from the force.)

(That was a bit too much, and he decides it’s time to stop. He’ll have to adjust the mount later.)

(Even with a window cracked to let the winter air in, John’s feeling hot. He’s been like this for two days. He knows that his body is giving him a heads up, but he wishes it wasn’t a fever that gets worse in time, the sort that just sticks to his bones.)

(He hears a soft, rising meow.)

Spaghetti: “Poppi?”

John: “Huh? Wh--”

Spaghetti: “Poppi! Toppi told me to get you!”

John: “Oh, did he now? Do you know what he wants?”

Spaghetti: “Nah~”

(John reaches down and gives Spaghetti some scritches. This is the only enjoyable side effect of slowly turning.)

(John crosses the house, expecting Brian to be in the kitchen. No, he’s in the bedroom with a smile on his face. There’s something’s up.)

Brian: “There you are. I got something for you. Consider it an early Christmas gift.”

John: “Christmas is in like, what four days. Can it wait?”

(Brian lifts a finger) “I know, I know, but I think this is something that will benefit the both of us.”

John: “And you’re not gonna tell me what it is, huh?”

Brian: “Nope, but I will say that you’re already dressed for it. Hang on a second, I’ll be right back.”

(John stares into the mirror.)

(This... was something he did not expect.)

(Brian hears the low noise that John makes when he’s worried.) “John, there’s nothing to worry about.”

(Some gift this is.)

“What’s on your mind, big guy?”

John: “I’m not a fan of this...”

Brian: “What, is it too tight? Too bulky? I can loosen it up just a little, but then accuracy goes down...”

John: “That’s not what I mean.”

“What are you doing anyway?”

Brian: “I’m syncing that monitor on you and this watch on me to my phone.”

“Honestly, I forgot that I bought it for running... and you know how long ago that was? Look at us now, we have a legit use for it.”

John: “Oh... so you’re going to track me?”

Brian: “Mmm, sounds bad when you say it like that.” (The phone and watch beep.) “There should be a icon flashing; press it, okay?”

(John makes another worried noise.)

Brian: “Listen... I know you have questions.”

John: “Well, yeah. You can’t just strap this on me and not expect any.”

“What made you do this anyway?”

Brian: “Well, I’ve been thinking. I’ve taken some notes and there’s a behavior and physical pattern that lycans seem to follow. In retrospect, I should have known something was up with you every supermoon, but that’s here nor there. Anyway, about a week or two before turning, you show signs. Fevers that get worse with time. Right?”

John: “Right.”

Brian: “I would track that instead, but I couldn’t find any hard numbers or any range. That and you have a tendency to hide your sickness in general.”

John: “That’s because I know how you get sometimes...”

Brian: “Well, I’m taking an alternative approach to my care plan. Something a little less intrusive.”

(Brian holds up his wrist.) “I got to thinking what else I can track and that’s your heart rate and that fact is consistent. Your ‘limit’ is 180bpm. Once you reach that point, you have about fifteen seconds before you start to turn -- the Point of No Return.”

John: “Fifteen? That’s not much of a warning.”

Brian: “No, it’s not. It seems that this doesn’t apply to any other point in time, which is great.”

“But with this, I can get an idea of when you’re gonna turn, and that way, we can be prepared this time. I’ve already scouted out a few places where no one’s gonna see, and you’ll be safe. You’ll have space too.”

John: “That’s good and all, but that means I can’t really train or be stressed out. And not trying to be stressed out about all of this is... stressful.”

Brian: “This is the best I can do, for now. I’ve set two alarms with different vibration settings so it can wake me up when I’m sleeping. This is gonna be a process... bit of trial and error and a lot of cooperation. Don’t want any more surprises--”

(The watch beeps.) “What-- John, why is your heart rate so high?”

John: “What? What did you set it at?”

Brian: “The first one’s at 120.”

John: “That’s because I’m still recovering, and I’m really nervous and, I dunno, stressed out that this thing is on me. It feels like I can just go at any moment just by accident and who knows what’ll happen then!”

“It’s making me self-conscious.”

(Brian looks up from the watch.) “Hm...”

(He reaches out and touches John’s shoulder.)

John: “Sorry... it’s just...”

Brian: “...I know.”

John: “I’m not sure if I can go through turning. I’m... still scared from last time. I’m getting bad dreams again and...”

Brian: “John?”

John: “Yes?”

Brian: “The only thing we can do is to be patient and wait. Like I said before, we’re going to be prepared this time.”

“In the meantime...”

“Why don’t we just... relax instead of worrying? Do something mindless for a change? We’ve been tense for the last three months.”

(...he’s right. He didn’t even think that that much time has passed just thinking about all of this. This... was something that needed to be taken one day at a time.)

(John gives Brian a small smile.) “Have I told you that I love you and you have the best ideas?”

Brian: “Oh, please.”

“Save the sugar for later.”

(After that, John set his mind on being calm as possible. Be normal. Yeah, he can do that.)

(A nice, homecooked meal will do a body and soul good...)

(...as well as much needed laughter.)

(John hasn’t laughed this hard in a while. Tears rolled down his cheeks.)

(It was decided that movies were in good order. Didn’t matter what genre -- though John made a soft ban on horror.)

(John busied himself trying to catch popcorn thrown in the air while Brian quoted the scene from memory.)

(Good thing it was a movie they saw about twenty times.)

(Being snowed in naturally made them a little stir crazy and well, a little frisky. Brian’s hand drifted down to grab John’s ass.)

John: “Mm-- wait, wait...”

Brian: “What?”

John: (slightly out of breath) “You think... you sure this is a good idea?”

Brian: “I don’t see why not... are you okay?”

John: “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I think?”

Brian: “Mm. How ‘bout we play it by ear?”

(After some adjustments and some test movements, Brian deemed John well enough for some much needed fun activities.)

(Later that night.)

(John sits on the edge of the bed. His body is shaking.)

(The tears... they don’t stop.)

(They can’t stop. They won’t stop. No, not after what happened. He... wants to scream, but he can’t. He can’t breathe. That lingering feeling that he’s going to snap and all hell will break loose. He needs to get away. Right now. But something’s... something’s making him stay.)

(No, no, he has to go. Now. Or else--)

(The watch goes off.)

(Brian stirs awake.) “The hell is that nois--”

(The alarm!)

(Brian looks at the watch. 164bpm.) “Oh, shit.”

Brian: “John--”

(John takes a shuddering breath.) “I’m fine.”

“I’m not... turning. Or anything like that. I...”

Brian: “You don’t sound too good--”

(He hesitates.) “I had a nightmare.”

Brian: “Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to tell me everything.”

John: (sniffs) “No. Not really. But I have to. You should know too.” (He sniffs again.) “I should have never read the rest of that file.”

“I remember... laying there. I was conscious, but I couldn’t move. My eyes weren’t open but I saw the ceiling lights. I heard others around me. Voices, but I don’t know what they’re saying. I can’t see their faces, except their eyes. They’re wearing surgery clothes and masks.”

“Then, I’m at a room with a door. Nothing else. On the other side... is my other self. He’s... angry. He kept saying that if I didn’t open it, we were both going to die. I was always told to never open it under any circumstances, but this time... he was desperate. He told me all the things that the specialists did to him -- to us.”

Brian: “What did you do?”

John: “I... I didn’t believe him. A-at first. Then, he told me to listen. I didn’t understand... I was back in the room. There’s other noises besides voices. I felt my arms and ankles being strapped down. Why would they do that...? I kept hearing ‘reverse trial.’”

“My chest started to hurt and I couldn’t breathe. I felt... my heart stop. I blacked out. I... died.”

(John pauses to collect himself.) “Then... I’m alive again. Everything’s quiet, except something beeping.”

“I’m weak. It’s like... recovering from getting knocked out. I see faces, the masks over me. Checking. I hear someone say the reversal failed and someone else told them to go ahead again.”

“It happens again. And again. And again.”

“I hear my other side. He’s desperate. The fourth time... he’s gotten out. Busted the door down. Shaking me awake. We’re both weak. He doesn’t know if we can take another hit. We have to make them stop. I asked him how the hell are we going to pull that off.”

“He told me that he’d have to take over. He knows exactly what he needed to do, but we had only one shot, and that shot... required me dead so he’d have full control. I told him... I told them that I just want them to stop. I may have said it outloud, who knows.”

“By now, the specialists have figured out we’re getting weaker. They started bickering. I started to move my fingers. Not enough for anyone to notice.”

“My eyes were open. I was looking at some of the monitors. But I don’t remember blinking at all, just stared. That’s just want my other side needed.”

(Brian doesn’t say it, but he’s in awe of this plan. No wonder they had him locked down...)

John: “After the sixth time, the specialists called the whole trial a failure. Then, I hear someone... disagree. That there wasn’t enough time in between resets to truly try and reverse it; they even said they’d have to cut me open if this fails.The seventh time...”

(John shakes. Everything -- his breath, his hands, his body.) “I saw myself flatline. And that noise. Everything started to fade and time stretched. The voices panicked that it was taking too long to bring me back. One of them got near me. They noticed that my eyes were opened. And look at them. Dead. I heard them call a time. Started taking things off. The oxygen mask. The straps, ankles, then hands.

That’s when he took over. The very second those straps were loose...”

(He turns to Brian. Renewed tears fall down his cheeks. He can’t bring himself to say it.) “Brian, he killed them. We killed them.”

Brian: “Oh... John...”

John: “When I came to... I was standing over someone. The lead specialist. My hands were covered in his blood. I tasted some in my mouth and... his throat was torn out. By me. By us. The room was... destroyed. The others... were bleeding out and crying.”

“This is the first time I’ve had this dream in full. It was always in pieces, but ends with blood on my hands. Sometimes... it’s yours. That’s why... that’s why I don’t turn. I’m dangerous. I’m scared that I’ll kill you. And you wanna know the worst part of it? It felt good. But...” (He falls silent.)

(Brian doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know if he even has the words.) “John... I’m so sorry this happened. It’s... not your fault.”

John: “Don’t start with that.”

Brian: “I mean it. You and your other side protected yourself.. You would have died if they kept going. You... had no choice. That’s that.”

“John, I never told you what happened between me and your other side. The lycan... never harmed me. He’s not that different from you at all. He protected me. From a grizzly bear, of all animals. He told me everything he’s experienced while the both of you were locked in those comas. He... he doesn’t want separation anymore.”

“John?”

(John shakes his head. Brian sighs.) “John... please listen.”

“If you’re scared of turning... This may sound wild, but you should talk things out with your other side. In fact, he told me to tell you that. He wants to and honestly, I think he deserves being... ‘out’.”

“Was that time the only time you actually talked to him?”

(John nods.)

“Two years. That’s a long time not to be talkin’ to anybody.”

John: “I don’t... I don’t really trust him.”

Brian: “Why?”

(John shakes his head.)

Brian: “If it helps... I trust him. And you know me. That doesn’t come easy. Hell, I can easily say I trust him with my life, just as I trust you with mine.”

(John wipes away what tears are left.)

Brian: “John...”

(Brian reaches for John’s hand.)

“...it’ll be okay. It’ll take time, but I promise you’ll heal, and you’ll never have to go through anything like that ever again.”

“I promise.”

“Talk to him. For me. Okay?”

John: “Okay.”

“I will.”

“...I promise.”

(After that night, things calmed down. John got it in his head that he’ll talk to his other side. He doesn’t know when he’ll be able to do it, but he assumes that he’ll present himself when the time comes. For now...)

Brian: “Ooh! John, is this what I think it is?”

John: “Hey, babe.”

Brian: “Hm?”

(John dangles the mistletoe with a shy smile.)

(... but that lingering feeling, those tendrils of change...)

(They stand beside each other....)

(...and they realized, time’s almost up.)

(John stands at the door.)

(He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing there; he just knows that he should be here.)

(He hears footsteps from the other side. Prowling.)

(John takes a deep breath. It’s now or never.)

“Okay. Here goes.”

(He stops turning the knob, and the prowling stops. He feels the presence on the other side shift.)

(Can’t let him know you’re scared, John tells himself. As long as he has control of the door, he’s fine.)

(He tries again.)

(The door creaks opens as he pushes it.)

(John sees nothing but darkness. Hell, even the light stops at the doorway.)

(This is a bad idea...)

(...but he stands his ground. Better to be patient and let him approach.)

(A clawed hand grips the door.)

(It stays there for a moment before sliding away.)

(The Werewolf stares back at him from the darkness. His expression is surprisingly neutral.)

(John stares back.)

John: “...we need to talk.”

(The Werewolf snorts.) “Just like that, huh? No ‘hi’, ‘hello’, ‘how are you doing?’. How rude.”

“I know why you’re here. I heard everything.”

John: “Then you know.”

“I want... to turn.”

The Werewolf: “After all these years... you want to turn. Just by asking nicely? Aren’t you worried about what will happen?”

“Twice you lost control. You don’t know how to control me. It’s risky.”

(The Werewolf growls.) “It’s d͙̥̖̠̲ͅͅa̬̙̕ng̙er̥̱͚̝͝o̙͎͍͜ṷ̶̪͖͇s̢̪̗̠. You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen, right?”

John: “No...”

(The Werewolf laughs low and dark.) “You’re worried. You’re scared like a little child. Ha, don’t worry about our mate. He talked to me, healed me... no harm will ever come to him.”

John: “Mate?”

The Werewolf: (laughs) “Oh, he must have glossed over that part. Him and I? Bonded. Let me put it this way... you better find a ring.”

John: “The hell does that mean?”

The Werewolf: “You know damn well what it means.”

(John looks to the floor.)

(The Werewolf steps out and leans against the doorframe.) “You’re that worried? Are you sure you want to turn?”

John: “Yes.”

The Werewolf: “You don’t look sure. You’re still afraid. Why?”

John: “I don’t know... I thought...”

The Werewolf: “Hmph. I feel like I should apologize for putting you through so much shit all these years. I also feel like you should apologize for suppressing me for so long. In your terms, that cancels out. So for now, we’re even. Got that?”

John: “Yeah.”

The Werewolf: “That said... may I ask why all of a sudden you want to let me out? Aside from Brian convincing you.”

John: “Well... that is a reason. He told me... to talk to you. Maybe get some answers. He told me that you weren’t dangerous. That you protected him.”

The Werewolf: “Uh-huh.”

John: “And because... I’m tired of fighting you. I’m tired of running. I don’t know how much I can take. I’m tired of... feeling like I need to hide. I read... things about you, about us, about who and what we are. We’re rare. Maybe the last of our kind.”

The Werewolf: “Everything, huh?”

John: “Except turning. There... wasn’t too much that I found. And the ones I did didn’t exactly apply to us.”

The Werewolf: “Well... you’ve come to the right place.”

The Werewolf: “I’ll teach you, but under one condition.”

“Do not resist me. When I want out, you better let me out, got that?”

John: “Go it.”

“What do I need to know?”

The Werewolf: “It is a process, and you are correct that we do not need to fight each other anymore; we must live in harmony and balance. Is that not a philosophy you have learned and practiced?”

(John nods.)

“Not only the body changes, but the mind does too. You don’t have either of that down. It’s easy to panic and that causes more pain.”

“What you have to do is breathe.”

(The Werewolf demonstrates.) “It will be chaos to you, but as long as you remember to breathe, you’ll be fine.”

John: “And what do I think about?”

The Werewolf: “Whatever you deem appropriate. I’ve heard of things that ‘flow’ helps. Something simple. You can imagine yourself changing. You can even imagine the energy spreading out from your heart and through your limbs. The choice is yours.”

John: “How long will this take? The transformation.”

The Werewolf: “It was quick last time because I simply took over when I had the chance. I can’t say the same for this time because you’re going to be conscious of the whole thing.”

“All I can say is ‘don’t think about it’. The pain is only temporary.”

John: “Temporary...”

The Werewolf: “We have to stop fighting. For our mate’s sake. He trusts you... but he trusts me as well. To him, we are no different from one another.”

“My question to you is: do you trust me? Will you trust me?”

“In time, we will be one, and this is the start.”

“I’ll ask you again: will you trust me?”

(John’s made up his mind. There’s no turning back.)

(John looks up.)

John: “Yeah. Let’s go.”

(The Werewolf laughs again and flashes his teeth.)

“Excellent. G̤e҉t̵͍͍̰͙ ̤̖̬͠r̞e͉ad͓̰̻̳͟y̩̪̻̯̤ͅ!̶̣̬̠̯̬”

(Bee-bee-beep! Bee-bee-beep!)

(Bee-bee-beep!)

John: (breathing heavily) “Br... Brian.”

“Wake...”

(Brian stirs.)

(Bee-bee-beep!)

John: “Brian...”

“W̧a̮̞̘̦̦ke͔̬̜.̖ ͓̬̦͖̠̜ͅT͓̰̥h̖̺̙̥̦̀ḙ̰͕͇̤͔̠ ̡͚f͍͈̜̹u̶͉̪̫c̠̦̙̮͎k.̟ ̣̹͉̹̳̺̝U̳͓̘̖͇p͔̠̤.̦́ Now.”

(Brian makes a sharp gasp.) “Uh?”

“Oh shit!” (He checks the measurement and notes the rising spike.) “161. Is it time?”

John: “Yes. We don’t... have much time.”

Brian: “Do you think you can hold him off?”

(John shakes his head.)

“Maybe. He didn’t... give me a time frame. Just told me...”

“...to get ready.”

Brian: “Okay. That eliminates three places--”

(John growls.)

“Just... keep it brief.”

Brian: “The Bluffs.”

John: “Fuck, really? I’ll turn before we get there!”

Brian: “Don’t worry. I already have the car packed. And I have a boat stowed away and ready to go.”

(John growls again.)

John: “Fine.”

(Brian assists John getting out of bed. He feels the sheer heat off of him before touching bare skin and wonders what his actual temperature is. It’s definitely something a person can’t survive let alone still be conscious.)

(Guess clothes would be out of the question... but the weather...)

John: “I’ll... I’ll be fine. I... just need pants. No shoes.”

Brian: “What?”

John: “I heard... your thoughts. Trust me... I just need pants. I don’t... wanna tear anything up.”

Brian: “Since when... you were able to do that? Can you read minds?”

(John laughs.) “No. It’s... my senses kicking in. I can’t read minds but I can hear them. You think way too hard, mahal. Since we were kids.”

Brian: “Oh. Oh. So you mean--”

John: “Yep.”

John: “I know... everything’s happening at once. My senses... my body’s changing... I... talked to him. Wasn’t anything heartfelt... he was mad at me but... he mentioned something. He said, you’re bonded. To us. I’d better get a ring.”

“What does that mean? Is... that what I think it means?”

Brian: “Yes. It does.”

John: “Get outta here.”

Brian: “That’s what I said too. I’ll tell you later.”

“But we do have to get out of here.”

(It’s 2 in the morning. The journey to The Bluffs was quick thanks to no traffic and the route Brian planned out days prior. The hardest stretch was getting the boat to work; he didn’t count on the motor to seize up or John showing signs of being boatsick.)

(Snow blankets the ruins of this remote island. It’s quiet and peaceful.)

Brian: “We’re almost there.”

(John nods. He’s concentrating on breathing and nothing else. His body is on fire and the winter air isn’t giving him the relief he needs.)

(He’s not feeling too much of anything at all. It’s hot...)

(Brian leads them to the open spot and steadies John.) “Right here. Okay?”

John: “Brian? I’m... I’m...”

(He can’t bring himself to say it.)

Brian: “Are you starting now?”

John: “No. Not yet.”

(He pauses. Just say it, he tells himself.)

“You better get this thing off.”

Brian: “Right...”

(Brian fumbles with the strap.)

John: “What’s... the number?”

Brian: “175. You’re close. Hell, I can feel it.”

John: “It’s... not a great feeling. Feels like... I’m gonna faint.”

Brian: “You were going to tell me something. It sounded important. You better say it now.”

(That tone. Brian’s used it before. He’s... preparing himself. For the unknown. He’s going through his feelings. Fear.)

Brian: “John?”

John: “Brian...”

“I’m...”

“I’m scared.”

Brian: “Me too.”

John: “I’m not ready... but... I have to let this happen.”

(Brian kisses John’s forehead.) “I know.”

“It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.”

(No matter how many times he’s said it, those words bring him relief. His words are true. He’s not alone. Brian’s here. That’s all he needs.)

(John smiles and laughs softly.)

“Brian... thank you.”

Brian: “You’re welcome, John.”

“You ready?”

(John nods.)

Brian: “I’ll give you space. Take all the time you need. Remember, I love you, okay?”

(Brian turns to go, his hand slipping away. It doesn’t feel like a goodbye, or even a ‘see you later’; ‘just a moment’ is more fitting.)

(Yeah, that’s it. He’ll be right back. Slightly different, but he’ll be the same. Maybe... this won’t be so bad after all.)

(John directs his attention to the sea and himself..)

(It’s time.)

(John closes his eyes...)

(....and breathes.)

(Something... stirs.)

(Just keep breathing.)

(It’s barely started...)

(You can do this.)

(Get it under control.)

(Stirring again. It’s stronger.)

(He falls to his knees.)

(No. I can’t--)

(John bares his teeth. There’s a growing pain in his chest.)

(He wants to fight it.)

(That’s what he was asked to do for all these years.)

(He can’t just let it happen.)

(He pitches over. No, it’s coming. It’s coming.)

(Something’s happening.)

(It feels like he’s tearing apart...)

(Just...)

(No. No no no.)

(G͓̼̲e͎͈̹̪̗͕̟t̮͕ ͖̟̦͟a̕ ̰̦h̸̺̝̦͎͎o̬̞̖l̨͇̙͇͔͉̪d̖̯̮̼̪ o̲͔f̵̱̭ ̣͇̝̦͇y̠̫̘͖̲̹̝o̪͚͙͍̜̟ͅu̙͚̱͎̗ͅr̦̖̤̬̖s҉̫͈èl͉̼̥̫͖̜f͎͔!͏̲)

(John’s hands shakes.)

(He can hear bone. They want to...)

(Claws erupt his fingertips.)

(Oh no.)

(There’s no going back.)

(John reaches out, grasping at thin air.)

(Each breath grows panicked. He can’t take it anymore.)

(He’s dying.)

(He can’t do anything about it.)

(What are you doing?)

(The stir knocks him down.)

(A strangled cry escapes his lips.)

(I can’t do this...)

(Y̛̩͕̤̙̗̭̲è͖̟̩̪s̠̤̯̲̙,̳̙̯̗̖ͅ ̹͖͢y͎͚̰̬̪̲͇o̪u̜͕͝ ̺̙͙͙͍̞̮̀c͖̩̱̕aṉ̭͕͍̼͠.̝̫͓̖)

(I’m sorry...)

(L̖̺̘I͓̻͖͍̳͘ͅS̷̛͈͇̖͈̤̕T̷̴̪̠̤̙E̯̮̺͢N͢͏̖̩̫!̧̺̪̲͎͎̥̦͢)

(John doesn’t want to.)

(But he has to. He screams.)

(There’s something in the recesses of his mind. A voice. No. A feeling. Like... a ghost of a hand touching his shoulder. It’s... kind.

“Breathe. It’ll be okay.”)

(John’s in pain. He wants it to stop. He’s screaming himself hoarse. Torn apart...)

(No. No, he’s not being torn apart.)

(G̨̗̠͔̫͍̘͕̲̣Ę͇̩̘͙͕̪͎͎͜T͙̻̙̲̺̥͍̯ ̡͝͏̫̻U͇͔̬͓̰̦̯̭͘͝P̴̢͎̦̗̻̮̯̖̕ͅ!̨̢͈̳̗̝͍̺͚͞)

(He struggles to get up. His breaths are wild and fast. But he’s listening. John’s listening.)

(Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.)

(Breathe.)

(John’s teeth shifts. He tastes blood in his mouth.)

(That doesn’t matter.)

(Power... courses through him. His veins. His body. Everything.)

(He wants it. It’s there. It’s right there.)

(It’s his.)

(And all he has to do...)

(...is...)

(...let go.)

(John roars at the moon.)

(John feels the snow beneath his fingers.)

(He opens his eyes and allows them to focus under the moonlight.)

(Snow, huh?)

(Has it been that long?)

(He sits up and takes the view before him in.)

(Water... far off mountains. He hears the waves breaking the shore below him. This is far different from last time.)

(The cool air is wonderful on his skin.)

(John looks up at the moon.)

(There it is. It’s as beautiful as he remembered.)

(As much as he wants to stare at it all night, there’s something to be done.)

(He stands up. John feels his body winding down from the change as he breathes deep and slow.)

(There’s something missing...)

(...but what?)

(He’s not sure if he should approach.)

(John hears footsteps fall behind him.)

Brian: “John?”

“Are... are you okay?”

John: “...”

Brian: “John, it’s me. Brian.”

(...his mind is still cloudy, but, he is familiar. He sounds familiar, he looks familiar.)

(...but his scent?)

(It snaps him out of his daze.)

John: “Brian? Is that you?”

Brian: “Yes.”

(John runs his fingers -- carefully -- through Brian’s hair.)

(He’s real.)

John: “Am I ...back?”

Brian: “Yes, John, you are.”

“Welcome back.”

(They bow each other’s head, just to take each other in.)

(It’s nice to breathe again.)

Brian: “How are you feeling?”

John: “Hungry. Tired. Mouth hurts. Thirsty. A little cold. Not bad.”

(Brian chuckles.) “You’re in luck. We’re about to go back home. Eat. Get some sleep. Peace and quiet.”

John: “I’d like that.”

Previous //

#ts4 simblr #ts4 story #ts4 #sims 4 story #the sims 4 #ts4 story telling #sims 4 #oc: john #oc: brian #oc pair: healing hands #werewolf!au #story tag: the werewolf

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dearophelia · 5 years

Text

gonna set your flag on fire - chapter 05

Thirty years after the war, things are as close to normal as they’ll get. Garrus is the turian councilor and Olivia runs Galactic Affairs, helping the galaxy rebuild. They’ve happily settled into the life they’ve built. Their kids are grown, and out living their own lives.But something goes wrong on Nora’s latest mission. Very wrong.

chapter 05: are we the hunters, or are we the prey?

In which the team lands on Zorya and, you know, everything goes exactly according to plan. (read on AO3)

continued thanks to @nightingaleseeking and @tarysande for all their wonderful help and cheerleading of this project!

(hi folks, we’re back! sorry for the delay; a lot of nonsense happened, but it’s over now and all is well)

The Oralla wasn’t designed as a transport ship, and its guest quarters are nonexistent – the turians shoved three sets of human bunkbeds into what could charitably be called a closet. They’re all long accustomed to making do with whatever’s available and, though Nora has to climb in and out of her bed very carefully so as to not knock her head on the metal legs of the other two sets, it’s far from the worst place she’s had to sleep since joining the Alliance.

They’re due to depart in their shuttle for Zorya in eight hours, and they’re meant to be getting some sleep. But she’s too wired – always is the night before a mission, Cerberus or no – so she rolls onto her stomach, turns her omnitool’s light almost all the way down, and pulls up the Cerberus databurst Jonah intercepted this morning. The message glows bright in the dark room, but her teammates are long asleep. She could probably host a concert in the middle of the room and none of them would wake up.

Jonah passed the burst on to Alliance Intelligence, but they won’t get it for a couple of days and won’t be able to completely break it for probably a month. A very-illegal program of Alle’s managed to break through the first layer of encryption, at least giving them access to a weather report and some low-security emails.

The meteor shower started two days ago, and they’ll land in the height of it, just as they planned. And if it isn’t raining, it’ll be so humid it might as well be, just as they thought.

The six of them scoured the emails over dinner and didn’t find anything particularly interesting. Nora scrolls past the weather report, figuring a second look at even low-security correspondence can’t hurt.

She makes it through all of them in half an hour, and finally starts to feel sleep tugging her away. She closes her omnitool without learning anything new, but she wishes they’d been able to break through even another level. Maybe then they’d have an actual project name.

***

Quentus pulls her into a tight hug while the rest of her squad runs final equipment checks. “I still think you’re an idiot,” he murmurs quietly.

Nodding, Nora returns the hug. “Yeah, me too.”

“Last chance to bail,” he says.

She knows he means it as a joke, but Nora also knows him well enough to hear the truth in his subharmonics: if he had any authority to do so, he’d order her off the mission. She appreciates the sentiment. “No such luck,” she says, bumping her forehead against his.

“Not to interrupt the sibling moment,” Jonah says, “but we need to get going.”

Nora nods and steps away from her brother. “Rendezvous point, seven days,” she confirms. It’ll be a boring few days waiting for pickup, but the shuttle’s FTL drive isn’t strong enough to get them back to the Aquila system and the relay in anything less than two years.

“See you then. Good hunting,” Quentus claps her on the shoulder.

Smiling, Nora returns the gesture. “Good hunting.”

***

Olivia stops on her way to bed, seeing her daughter’s light still on. She knocks lightly and, upon hearing a quiet “yeah,” pokes her head in. “Everything okay?”

Nora looks up from her tablet and blinks. She’s three weeks into her new school, has made a few friends, and seems to be settling in well. But Olivia knows what she’s looking for now, and Nora’s hesitation at the door every morning – the pause, deep breath, and squared shoulders – is like a flashing neon sign.

“In the war,” Nora starts quietly, “how did you do it?”

Olivia raises an eyebrow and steps inside, letting the door close behind her. “What do you mean?”

She shrugs and tosses her tablet beside her on the bed. “You fought banshees and brutes and everything. How’d you not freak out every time you saw one?”

Pursing her lips, Olivia takes a moment to pull her answer together. Her mother asked the same question during the war, and her answer was an unsatisfactory “panic for five seconds while running very fast for cover, then get your ass in gear.” She has a suspicion that, as unhelpful as that was for her mother, it’s even less helpful for her daughter. She moves Nora’s backpack off her desk chair and sits down, tucking her feet up underneath her. “It helped a lot that I’d probably get myself and my squad killed if I let myself freak out,” she says honestly. She’s always been grateful for the quality of her fight-or-flight response.

Nora huffs. “That’s not going to work for school.”

“I certainly hope not,” Olivia smiles, then goes serious again. “You still having trouble?” she asks, though she knows the answer.

“A little,” Nora admits. “I’m usually okay once I’m there, but sometimes I still get a little…panicky. It’s so dumb,” she sighs, “there’s no reason for it, and I just. I’m annoyed,” she concludes.

Nodding, Olivia understands completely. Years passed before she didn’t find herself tensing up whenever she heard an electronic scream, or saw a red laser beam, or looked out a viewport the wrong way. She spent most of those years annoyed at her reaction and was never sure whether she was more upset at the reaction itself, or that she was still reacting at all. “It takes time,” she says.

Nora frowns at that. “Got any tips for making it through in the meantime? That don’t involve imminent bodily harm?”

“One thing at a time,” Olivia says gently; her father’s advice from forty years ago is just as sound now as it was then. “Focus on one thing, and one thing only. And when that’s done, move on to the next.”

“That seems too simple.”

She shrugs. “It works. And,” she smiles softly, “when all else fails, breathe. Good air in, bad air out.”

***

Nora wrinkles up her nose as soon as they step off the shuttle. Zorya is not only hot and humid and in the middle of its rainy season, it’s not only in the middle of nowhere, and not only does it have several kinds of venomous snakes and poisonous plant life – it also smells like the tropical bird exhibit at the Citadel Zoo. Her boots squelch in the mud.

“Lovely,” Carlos says, his voice tinny over comms.

Rachel’s omnitool casts an eerie glow around them. “I’m not seeing anything on their comms,” she says. “Looks like the meteor plan worked.” She closes her tool, leaving them in the silvery starlit darkness.

“Good,” Jonah says. “Move out.”

Silently, they settle their weapons in their grip and fall into formation: Alle taking point, Carlos and Rachel spread out behind her, Jonah and Micah staggered behind them, and Nora bringing up the rear.

The base is three miles away through dense jungle, and though they’re all in full helmets and on comms, they make the hike in silence except to point out hazards. Exposed roots threaten to trip them, branches catch at their arms and chests, and more than once they barely skirt the edge of a mud pit or sinkhole.

Nora brings up her combat playlist – a combination of bass-driven club tracks and fight music from various video games – and sets it to play quietly in her private channel. If she has to listen to just the silence of the jungle, which isn’t that silent at all, she’s going to go crazy before they even get to the perimeter.

One step at a time, she focuses on moving forward – left, right, left, right, step over the root, avoid the rock, left, right – and keeping her eyes on the jungle around her. Though they landed in a small clearing, the rest of the jungle isn’t so forgiving. Trees and plants are so thick even the moonlight has trouble breaking through. Flashlights are too risky in the dark, so they’re relying on nightvision.

Her eyes flick from one movement to the next, hypervigilant. A pyjak, fearlessly hopping from one branch to the next. A snake, slithering on its branch, poised to attack the pyjak. Three birds, circling through the maze of branches above the snake. A wolf-like creature, standing perfectly still behind a bush, looking up at the birds, its eyes glowing green and eerie in the nightvision camera. The wolf looks away from the birds and levels its calm, fierce stare directly at Nora. She shivers.

Abruptly, Alle holds up a fist. Nora’s HUD, designed to recognize hand signals from teammate gloves, flashes a red light in the lower left corner. She stops moving and takes cover behind a thick tree.

“Two o’clock,” Alle says. “Vakarian, check it out.”

She scopes in where Alle indicated. Nothing but trees. “I don’t see anything,” she says. But then movement catches her eye. “Wait,” she flips on her scope’s infrared sensors. “That’s…large,” she says, flatly. “It looks kind of like a bear.”

“Grizzly bear or black bear?” Carlos asks.

“It’s a bear,” Micah says, “what does it…?”

“They act differently,” Carlos says. “A grizzly would –”

“Neither,” Nora says, cutting off the incoming discussion on Earth-based bear behavior. “It’s got a long tail, for one thing.”

“Then it’s not a bear,” Carlos says.

“You have binoculars, you look at it.”

There’s a quiet shuffle as Carlos pulls out his binoculars. “That’s…Nora, what the hell, that doesn’t even look remotely like a bear.”

She glares in Carlos’ general direction. “Oh, you know what.”

Jonah coughs pointedly. “Let’s table the classification discussion and focus on whether it’s going to eat us.”

A few moments pass in silence, and then the shuffling noise repeats as Carlos puts his binoculars back. “There wasn’t anything about this in the planetary file, so it’s probably not an issue.”

“Because that’s not logic that hasn’t bitten us in the ass before,” Alle scoffs.

“I’m just saying, if the vorcha knew about the mutated pyjaks, the venomous snakes, and the extremophile bacteria that causes both, they would probably know if an eight-foot-tall predator was making its home in the jungle. They’re dumb, but they’re not that dumb.”

Nora practically hears Jonah rolling his eyes.

“Well, let’s hope that they’re dumb, but they’re not that dumb is an accurate analysis, but let’s go a little out of our way to avoid the bear anyway,” Jonah says. “Move out.”

“It’s not a bear,” Carlos starts. “Ow!” he says.

Nora flicks her safety on and zooms in on Carlos. Her grin widens. He’s rubbing the back of his head, while Rachel stands with her arms crossed, staring at him.

“I will turn this mission around,” Jonah grumbles, and Nora turns her comms off with barely enough time before she starts laughing.

“Move out,” Jonah repeats. “And radio silence until we get to Checkpoint One.”

They all fall into formation again, following Alle’s circuitous lead to give the not-bear a wide berth.

The rest of the hike is uneventful, but without the banter of her squad to distract her, Nora finds panic tugging at her edges. Up until now, even when they were on Haliat-Gemini, even when they were traveling on the Oralla, even when she said goodbye to her brother a few hours ago, even when they were landing the shuttle, this mission was just a concept, something vague and intangible. She could approach it academically, outside of herself, and not have to actually acknowledge the very real fact that she’s walking into a Cerberus base. A Cerberus base with Cerberus security, Cerberus technology, Cerberus forces, Cerberus everything.

She thought she was worried before. She had no idea.

Good air in, bad air out, Nora repeats to herself. Good air in, bad air out. She switches her music to a soothing instrumental playlist, one she’s used since high school to center herself and calm down. Good air in, bad air out, she repeats, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping watch on her team’s six. Slowly, the panic retreats, and the emptiness it leaves in its wake fills with clear, laser-sharp focus.

By the time they reach the edge of the forest, her shoulders are square and loose, and the steady battlefield calm she’s trained herself to find and love has settled in.

***

“How do you do that?” Quentus asks, dusting himself off as he stands up at the end of the wave.

Nora shrugs, and grabs a new set of grenades out of the ammo box. She’d taken down the two possessed praetorians in the end, but Armax’s new AIs need a lot of work before they’re ready for public use. At least they’re getting paid for spending their leave still geared up and fighting. “It’s fake,” she reminds him.

Even though he’s in a full helmet and his visor’s dark, she can tell he’s giving her a Look. An annoyed look, a brotherly look, a yes-thank-you-I-knew-that look. “You didn’t even flinch.”

Again she shrugs, and ducks into cover beside him as the drone announces the next wave. He was taken out by a scion sync kill and he’s holding himself stiffly – he must’ve hit the arena floor at just the wrong angle. She bets he’ll be playing it safe for the rest of the match, maybe try to stay out of the middle of chaos this time. “I don’t know,” she says, lobbing a series of arc grenades into the spawn point.

Quentus pops out of cover and follows her grenades with a clip full of inferno ammo. “That’s not helpful.”

“You’re seven years older than me,” she says, triggering the auto-destruct on her supply pylon on the other side of the base. It explodes, and a notification pops up in the kill feed: Nora Vakarian – Collector Captain [Supply Pylon]. She fishes out another pylon token and activates it beside them. It immediately refills their shields and spits out two grenade tokens. She offers one to her brother to replenish his stim packs and programs the other for an inferno grenade before clicking it onto her belt. “And have ten years more combat experience. You’re telling me you need your kid sister to tell you how not to freak out in a fight?”

Another Look, this one – she’s sure – with an accompanying eyeroll. She smirks at him, then scopes in and nails a captain dead in the eye. Collectors are easy for headshots, and she has a bet going with Micah.

“I’m just curious,” he says, cloaking before he starts shooting this time. “You looked pretty calm for being the only one standing in front of two fully-loaded possessed praetorians, even if they were fake.”

“My fight-or-flight response is heavily weighted toward fight,” she says, reloading.

Quentus is about 50/50, and Nico tends to go for a third option – freeze. It’s part of why he left service as soon as he was able. “Uhm,” she says, catching sight of what’s spawning behind them, “yeah, we should move.”

Quentus looks over his shoulder. “Yep.” While they’re running down the ramp, putting a decent distance between them and the possessed abomination, he pushes the matter. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“It’s as good as I’ve got,” Nora says. She abruptly stops at the end of the ramp, turns while scoping in with her Valiant, and unloads a three-shot clip into the abomination. The nuclear explosion takes out a handful of troopers and captains, and triggers a chain reaction with two other abominations, but she and her brother are safe and out of range. “It just kind of happens, couldn’t tell you how.”

***

They hang back a hundred feet in the trees so to not draw the attention of the guards. At least their intel is correct: three troopers guarding the shield access point, a single spotlight pointed toward the forest, the base glowing faintly in the distance beyond the shield. The shield shimmers a dim orange.

Jonah nods at her, and she holsters her Valiant before starting to climb a tree close to the edge. She needs to clear the treeline before she’ll have a decent shot at all three troopers, but she’s likely to draw their attention if she climbs one at the edge. The rough bark makes for easy traction, and the branches are solid, steady in her grip and underneath her feet. She easily makes it halfway up the tree, where she pauses to survey the branches in front of her. Confirming her path twice, she starts to move out along a branch, carefully traversing two trees until she has her back pressed against the trunk of one at the very edge. She expands her gun again and checks the security of its silencer.

Carefully, she lowers herself to lie on her stomach on the thickest branch and then slowly inches herself out. She isn’t quite hanging directly over the guards – far back enough that she’s covered in shadow, she’s far enough out that her shot isn’t obstructed. She looks through her scope and gets a solid bead on all three; she cycles through her shots, making sure she knows exactly how much to move her gun for each shot.

“Ready,” she whispers in her comms, her crosshairs hovering over the head of the first guard.

“Go,” Jonah confirms.

Nora takes a slow breath in and holds it for a moment. Halfway through her exhale, she fires. The guard’s head explodes, but she doesn’t see it – she’s already onto the second, and then the third. A quick reload, and she scopes back in, confirming all three kills. “Done,” she whispers, collapsing her gun and reconnecting it with her armor seals. Without quite as much care to mask her movements this time, she scoots backward toward the tree trunk.

“Roger,” Jonah says. “Carter, you’re up. Vakarian, get down here.”

Nora grips the branch with both hands and carefully slides off it, dangling down. She finds purchase with her boots on a branch below and releases the top one, reversing her way down the tree. At the final branch, she bends over, grasps the branch between her feet and lets herself fall to the ground. She swings a little bit from the branch and then lets go, smiling when her feet hit solid ground again.

Alle runs back into the trees, stolen access cards in hand. “Fire in the hole!”

The drill grenade explodes quietly but impressively, sending dirt, body parts, and electronics flying everywhere. The floodlight blows out, and a small wedge of the shield sparks and flickers. Then everything goes dark.

Alle grins at her teammates.

Jonah gestures for her to take point again. “Let’s go.”

***

“Radio silence,” Jonah orders as Alle swipes the security card at the access panel.

The little light turns from red to green, and the door slides open with a hiss. Cool, dry, climate-controlled air rolls out, a welcome relief from the hot, muggy jungle.

“Good hunting, Hydra,” Nora says to Jonah, Carlos, and Rachel as the three group up. It’s strange not to refer to Jonah’s team as Manticore, but this isn’t his regular team.

“Good hunting, Eidolon,” Jonah returns, and then leads Carlos and Rachel down the hall and around the corner.

It’s even stranger not to hear her own team called Chimera, and perhaps strangest of all not to have Carlos with her. When the other three are out of sight, Nora takes a deep breath, systematically shutting out everything that isn’t the mission. No control chip, no anxiety, no team name, nothing. Just the mission.

One thing at a time. Good air in, bad air out.

Nora turns to Alle and Micah. If all goes well, they’ll meet up with Hydra on the opposite side of the base in a couple of hours, intel and maybe a few Cerberus people in hand, set explosive charges, and then hike back to their shuttle and fly back to the edge of the system and play cards for three days while they wait for extraction. “Carter, you’re on point,” she orders, settling her gun in her hands.

Alle nods, turns off her armor’s lights, and activates her annihilation field with a wave of her right hand. The low growl sounds almost deafening in the silent hallway, but it soon blends into the base’s background – the electrical hum, a subtle rumble of machinery, and the erratic thud as meteorites hit the shield outside. Without her lights on, Alle almost blends into the shadows, and she slinks around the first corner.

Micah follows, assault rifle primed and ready, visor glowing red with his hardsuit’s devastator mode. Nora brings up the rear, triggering her own visor to keep a reverse camera image in the bottom corner so she can see behind them.

The first fifteen minutes are silent. They didn’t expect to run into anyone this far at the edge of the base, but it makes all of them a little jumpy. The schematics Liara sent are nearly accurate – there’s a hallway where there was meant to be a wall, and a door they needed was fifty feet farther down than expected – and they easily make their way into the heart of the base.

Alle holds up a fist, deactivates her annihilation field, and gestures for them to gather up. They all duck into a nook, mindful of the equipment stacked up beside them.

“Anyone else got a weird feeling about this?” she whispers.

Nora looks hard at her. “What do you mean?” She’s long learned to trust Alle’s instincts.

“I don’t know,” she says, “something just feels off.”

Micah taps the temple of his helmet, and his visor fades to clear. He squints around the corner, down the darkened hall. “She’s right. We’re about halfway in – we should’ve run into someone by now.”

Nora frowns. Now that her teammates have mentioned it, she notices the unsettled knot in the base of her spine. She’d been so focused on forcing herself to think that nothing was wrong that she hadn’t picked up on her actual unease creeping steadily forward. She thinks for a moment, and then clicks their group comm channel in a pattern: short short long, their signal for I know we said radio silence, but I need to know if you’re still conscious.

The response comes back almost immediately. One click: potential shit ahead, hold for confirmation.

All three of them hold their breath.

Two clicks.

FUBAR, please assist.

“Well,” Nora says flatly. “We’re in it now.”

Nora has five seconds to mentally plot Hydra’s position on the other side of the base before she hears the high-pitched electronic whine of an illegal shock stick.

And then there’s a sharp pain in the base of her skull, and everything goes black.

#oh god i got a new computer between now and when i last updated this and i have to unfuck spellcheck all over again SOBS LOUDLY #s:words #s:set your flag #for crying out loud tumblr let me mention my friends without incident just once please i'm begging you

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storyteller15 · 5 years

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Chapter Six: The Selection

I groaned and stirred my body around in a different position.

Last night had to be the one of the best moments of my life. Despite the fact that I never got my picture back, I did something that at least made me feel a little better: Comforting Asriel. I considered myself lucky to be pardoned by him for leaving the second floor. Of course, I will be following the rules for now on. Maybe . . ?

I was doing fine sleeping so far until I hear my door creak open. Oh no . . . I shifted my body around, laying on my stomach in hopes that they ignore me and allow me to sleep in more. In the background, I can hear my maids talking in hushed voices. With a soft sigh, I knew my sleep is going to end shortly when I felt someone standing over me.

"Good morning, my lady," Barbara whispers, tapping my shoulder. "It's time to get up."

I whined and pulled my sheets over my head. "When will I ever get to have the time to sleep more?"

I hear Barbara and Lesley giggle at my protest. In the background, I can hear someone's flat heels clacking against the rug and the sounds of curtains swinging open. Through the back of my eyelids, I watched the warm sunshine make my vision look orangey-red, even if my bed sheets are covering my face.

Ugh . . . Sunlight.

"Please wake up, my lady. You wouldn't want to be late on meeting the royal family." Lesley insists; her voice filled with worry.

My eyes shot open, pulling my sheets away from my head as I moved my body upward.

Dammit! Why is it that I always forget about important stuff whenever I wake up? I really need to make a mental note to myself about these things so I don't forget. Maybe sleep has its benefits of making us forget the good and bad things. Thus, the important things like meeting the king and queen.

"Alright, you got me. I'm completely awake." I said, my voice sounding groggy.

"Would you like to wear the light cyan sweetheart neckline gown, or the strapless pink ombré gown decorated with some glitter?" Lesley asks, holding the lovely gowns in front of me.

I squinted at them, trying to think. The pink to me is asking for too much attention. Maybe I will wear it in another occasion; perhaps if Asriel plans a ball that involves looking gorgeous. The light cyan on the other hand, looks almost simple because it didn't have that much glitter like the pink one. The color itself reminds me of the ocean back at home.

To be honest, I'm not trying to impress Asriel and his family. I only present myself as what I am. I won't let the competition change me no matter what. I'm so grateful to have Bryn pick out my dress designs for me to wear during The Selection. She knows my tastes far too well.

"I'll go with the light cyan today, Lesley. Thank you." I get up, stretching my arms out as Barbara helps me get undressed out of my tank top and soft shorts.

"Fine choice, my lady," Lesley beams, hanging it over the screen.

"I still can't believe you got to meet Prince Asriel; it was quite lucky of you. Perhaps it's fate!" Barbara squeals happily, laying out my white matching undergarments for my gown.

I chuckled nervously, feeling my cheeks flushed rosy pink. "I wasn't meant to Barbara, I'm still feeling guilty for disobeying the rules."

"Don't fret about that my lady," Lesley moves my hair out of my face. "You had a good reason, and we respect it. Prince Asriel is very kind to his subjects. Perhaps you mean something to him my lady."

"I suppose so," I answered solemnly, walking into the bathroom to brush my teeth while Barbara and Lesley prepares my makeup items for me to wear today.

In the mirror, my hair was completely a mess as if I had been fighting off clingy vines as I slept. Eye crusts rested in the inner corners of my eyes, waiting for me to rub them off my face. Ah, my lazy look. I wish I could wear this look for just one day . . . No makeup, no fancy clothes, and no waking up early. Sadly, it rarely happens now because people will barge into my room, needing me to get ready for various important things. I dismissed those thoughts as I rinsed my mouth and washed my face.

In the background, I hear Barbara shuffle past me just to start my shower. I was told that I shouldn't wet my hair when I shower, because the oils in my hair will make it easier to work with if you need to style it. So, I decided to wrap my hair into a bun, removing my thin bra and light pink underwear off as Barbara dismisses herself out the bathroom. Making my way inside the shower, I close the thin glass door behind me and welcome the hot water running down my body. Ah, there's nothing like a good hot body shower can make my morning worth to wake up to. I quickly grabbed my melon cucumber scented soap and scrubbed until every last trace of smelly sweat was gone.

After my quick body shower, I sit down in front of my vanity, cuddled in my white fluffy robe to watch as Barbara do my hair. First, she brushes the tangles out of my long hair. Then she twists half of my hair into two curled rose-like messy buns and secures them with swirled pins decorated with aqua blue crystals. The rest of my hair is draped over my back, since I wasn't in the mood to have all my hair up. So, my hair is in a half up-do. And to make my hair look prettier, she curls the ends of my hair in a soft form. Barbara then parts my hair strands to each side of my face to frame it. I raised my eyebrow at them; I probably need to style my hair some other time. However, I do love the way Barbara did my hair. I should have her teach me how so I can do it on Bryn someday.

With my hair done, it was time to do my makeup.

I had Lesley skip my lips, so she starts by applying some rosy-pink blush over the apples of my cheeks and lightly dabbing some white eye glitter over the inner corners of my eyes to make them look noticeable. Next, Lesley uses a black liquid eyeliner, winging it downwards to give my makeup an innocent look. And because my dress is light cyan, the outer corners of my eyelids are lightly dabbed with an icy blue eyeshadow, finishing it off with some of the eye glitter she used for my inner corners to give my eyeshadow that frosty theme. Finally, she adds a little mascara on my lashes, curling them a little. I love the way Lesley does my makeup! She doesn't put too much, only what is necessary to make my look dazzle.

Of course, I didn't think any jewelry was necessary. So, Barbara and Lesley helps me dress into my beautiful light cyan sweetheart neckline gown over my beige strapless bra and underwear that Barbara picked out for me to wear since it is strapless after all. My gown sparkled like the ocean, making me feel homesick. The skirt at least felt light enough for me to carry it when I walk. After Lesley zips up my dress, I slowly walk over to the raised platform that stood in front of the three mirrors that lets me see myself in different angles. From behind, I can hear my maids sigh in awe.

"Wow! You look so beautiful! I'm so glad that you chose this dress. It looks gorgeous on you!" Barbara bleated for joy.

"Thank you, Barbara. You and Lesley are the reason why I look this way." I said earnestly, smiling at both of them.

"You're too kind, my lady," Lesley flushed red, feeling flattered. "Oh for goodness' sake! It's almost time to meet up with the other girls. Please remember to square your shoulders and keep looking straight when you meet with the royal family." Lesley takes my hand, setting down my white low-high heels down for me to slip them on.

I smiled happily to myself. I don't have to wear those ridiculous high heels that makes your entire feet ache from walking. "Yes Lesley, I will." I promised as I hugged both of my maids gratefully.

"Good. Now off you go! Good luck, Zefie dear!"

I wave them goodbye, picking up the hem of my skirt a little, as I walk out the door. I walked down from the west wing over to the middle of the second floor where it separates both the east and west. There I stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the button that had a glowing yellow arrow pointing down. According to Lesley, I have to take the elevator to to get to where I should be going. It seems there are certain places that have no stairs leading to them, and can only be accessed via the elevators.

With a loud swoosh sound, the elevator doors opened wide to welcome me inside. As I walk in, I noticed that the other side of the elevator also has a set of double doors and a panel of buttons that are labeled with numbers one to ten, with a few letters next to them. Interesting, I underestimated the palace. It really is bigger than I imagined judging by the sectors each button can lead me to in this enormous palace. Maybe even big enough to get lost into it like a maze. If I can memorize the entire place, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. That is if I remember where I'm going.

Once the doors closed shut, I pressed the elevator button that's labeled 'P-1', feeling the elevator rumble under my low-high heels. I felt the walls shake a bit, hearing the elevator hum loudly as it takes me down to the first floor. No elevator music, thank goodness. I really dislike elevator music because it's a bit awkward. Silence is what I need even though people don't like it one bit.

Deep into my thoughts, I reminisce through last night's encounter, thinking about how Asriel scooped me up into his arms like a gentleman. The way his fur tingled against my bare legs and arms, giving me goosebumps. And the way my heart skipped a whole lot of beats just seeing his face near mine. His green eyes even looked beautiful under the moonlight. Perhaps we could start from where we left off. But then again, I don't even know if Asriel will recognize me under this glamorous attire . . .

Just then, the elevator shakes to a sudden stop, snapping me out of my dark thoughts and back to reality. I shook my head slowly, realizing the big mistake I was making. What am I saying? I shouldn't be putting myself down and thinking the worst. I promised Bryn that I'd stop doing that. My face suddenly went pale. Bryn! Crap, I cursed to myself. I forgot to text her to let her know that I won't have my phone for awhile. It's too late now, so no need to add that to my list of worries. Looks like she'll have to wait.

I shrugged my shoulders as the doors opened wide, leading me into the familiar corridor. This was where we had our interview and where the palace entrance is located. I walked to the opposite direction to another corridor, leading me to a new area where I can see all the Selection girls present and prepared to meet the royal family. I guess I was the last one, or perhaps the girls couldn't wait to meet them, so they decided to come early. To my surprise, I find Fiona having a rather interesting conversation with Malachite. I wonder . . . How long will her facade last for her to finally ends her game and acts true to herself?

"Hey, there you are!" Colleen surprises me with a big hug from behind.

"Colleen, hi!" I giggled against her chest, returning the hug.

"Where were you last night? I was hoping that you would join me and Delilah to watch the broadcast together last night." She pouts at me, looking a little sad.

My entire body was chilled to the bone. I hope she didn't come look for me in my room.

"I was asleep, I'm sorry. The long travels from Aura Cove to Berdea really got me super tired."

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense," She nods knowingly. "You should have seen yours! It was fantastic and amazing! They made you look majestic and exquisite!"

"Wha?! No way." I gaped at her, feeling my cheeks flushed red.

She smirks at me, giving me a playful wink. "Way! I'll show it to you on my phone later. Anyway, are you excited to meet Prince Asriel as much as I am?!"

I chuckled nervously. Oh I met him already, I thought to myself. He's a very wonderful person, and is good with his hilarious puns. Sadly, I promised Asriel to not tell anyone about me encountering him last night, which was fair enough.

"Y-yeah, I am."

"You're not getting cold feet, are ya?" Delilah appears beside us, dressed in a beautiful violet gown, with her skirt decorated in amethyst jewels.

Do I look that obvious? "Maybe."

"Aw cheer up, Zefie! Perhaps seeing his face should melt those cold feet of yours." Colleen encourages me.

"Yeah, you'll do fine." Delilah pats my shoulder.

"I love your dress, Delilah! It looks good with your lavender hair!" Colleen gushes.

"Thanks, I like your orange dress. What made you decide to wear that color today?"

"It's my good luck color!" She twirls around as her skirt flowed with her body. "I just thought maybe There's a seventy percent chance that I'll go on a date with Prince Asriel today!"

I chuckled and smiled at her optimism. "I'm sure you will, Colleen. Asriel can't resist colors that match the sun."

"Really?! Thanks, Zefie!" She gushes, wrapping her arms around me as I uttered an "oof."

In the corner of my eye, I spot scarlet wearing a beautiful emerald green gown, with her long hair made into lovely curls. I should go talk to her.

"Can you guys give me a minute? I'm gonna go try and have a chat with Scarlet."

"Sure, come find us soon. We have less than five minutes before Mettaton shows up." Delilah reminds me, before Colleen releases me and began to walk towards Scarlet.

The last time I saw her was when we went inside the palace together. Well, before I got lost. Other than that, even if she acts like she doesn't need anyone, I'm still not giving up on trying to be her friend. Scarlet can't compete alone. She at least needs someone to talk to.

"Hey, Scarlet," I greeted her, giving her the needed space.

She looks at me with her dark brown eyes. "Hello, Zafrina."

"I uh . . . Well uh . . . You look pretty. I love the color of your gown." I felt flustered and angry for not finding the right words to compliment her.

"Thanks."

There was a long terrifying silence, before I realized that she's not in the mood for a brief chat. Why must she seclude herself away from the others? I know she's not bad like Fiona, but . . .

"I'm sorry to disturb you, I'll go ahead and let you have your space." I turned away, walking back to where I can see Delilah and Colleen talking with another Selection girl.

"Hey, I heard about Fiona toying with your feelings," Scarlet begins to say, even though my back was facing her. "I'm sorry she did that, she doesn't deserve any kindness after what she did. So, watch your back."

I gasped softly and smiled, turning my head to face her. "Thank you, I will."

"Good morning darlings~!" Mettaton beams at us, wearing the same outfit as yesterday. Except he's now wearing a black tuxedo, decorated with glitter over his magenta long sleeve collar shirt. "I assumed you all slept well and prepared yourselves to meet the prince and his family?"

The girls all screamed happily in response, as I make my way towards Colleen. I latched onto her arm, just to prevent myself from getting lost in the crowd. From the corner of my eye, I find Fiona 'smiling' at me, waving. I pretended that I didn't see her, turning my head to focus on Mettaton.

"Alright then, let's go ahead and go over the plan. So, listen carefully, darlings." Everyone then stops to listen to what we'll be doing.

I felt my stomach twisting into knots again, making me feel lightheaded.

"As you know, Prince Asriel and his family are waiting patiently in the grand ballroom. When your name is called, all you have to do is walk to them, curtsy, and introduce yourselves. You will say your name, town, and the names of your parents. Sound easy enough for you, darlings?"

The girls replied by nodding, while I tried to hide my anxieties behind Colleen. Delilah rubs my back, noticing my pink sparks of magic dancing across my fingertips. Why must I always get nervous at a time like this?

"Just breathe, Zefie," Delilah whispers to me, continuing to rub my back. "Breathe in and out slowly, we're right here."

Colleen rubs my arm, giving me a reassuring squeeze. "Try closing your eyes, it'll prevent your magic from getting out of hand. Trust me, it helps."

I do what they say, breathing in and out with my eyes closed. In the background, I don't exactly hear what Mettaton was saying, only hearing nothing but my heart pumping loudly enough for everyone to hear it. I leaned against Colleen's arm, continuing my breathing exercise.

"Alright, darlings, it's time! Please listen for royal guards Papyrus and Sans when they call your names! Now I must go, I've got other things to do that involves the media, good luck darlings, ta-ta~!" Mettaton waves before he disappears down the hallway.

"Huh? Who's Papyrus?" Delilah asks, sounding puzzled to whoever that person was.

"WHY, THAT WOULD BE ME, HUMAN!" Papyrus appears next to her, posing in heroic way as his scarf fluttered dramatically like a cape.

I gasped, smiling in an instant to see his goofy face. "Papyrus!"

"NYEH?! AH! IT'S YOU, HUMAN MAGE ZEFIE! YOU LOOK LOVELY TODAY!" He gushes at me, taking my hands into his

"Wait, you know this tall skeleton dude?!" Delilah asks, flabbergasted at our happy reunion.

I chuckled softly. "Of course! He's one of the royal guards who helped me when I got lost yesterday."

"INDEED I WAS!" He shouts, his voice filled with energy. "IF IT WEREN'T FOR ME, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, POOR HUMAN MAGE ZEFIE WOULD HAVE BEEN LOST AND ALONE!"

"Ooh! Pleased to meet you, Papyrus!" Colleen shakes his hand.

"Y-yeah, same." Delilah smiles at him.

"WHAT A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU ALL! NOW IF YOU'LL EXCUSE ME, I HAVE AN IMPORTANT DUTY TO DO AS A ROYAL GUARD!" He waves us goodbye, speed-walking towards the entrance to the ballroom.

"I don't know about you guys," Delilah says, watching as some of the girls disappear when Papyrus calls for each of them. "But I kinda find it hard to believe he's in one of the royal guards. He's just too . . ."

"Innocent? Yes I know, but we may never know until we see him in action." I replied, feeling my anxieties shrink again.

"Gosh, she has a point. I would love to see how he fights." Colleen giggles as she sways her bushy tail around.

Just then, I spot Sans walking down our way, keeping a goofy grin on his face.

"Sup, kiddo."

"Morning, Sans." I waved as he walked by, joining his brother.

Delilah and Colleen gaped at me, opening their mouths, but I cut them off quickly.

"He's Papyrus' older brother. He works as a royal guard, too."

"What? No way, don't you think he's a little too short?" Delilah raises her eyebrow at Sans as if she doesn't believe me.

"Hey, appearances can deceive us." I shrugged my shoulders.

"SANS! YOU LAZY BONES!" Papyrus begins to yell at his brother. "YOU ARE ONE MINUTE AND TWENTY-ONE . . . NO TWENTY-TWO . . . TWENTY-THREE . . . NYEH! YOU ARE LATE! WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!"

"Heh. Sorry, Paps, I had a skele-ton of work that had to be done." He shrugs his shoulders with a wink, watching Papyrus stomping around.

"ENOUGH OF YOUR DUMB PUNS, SANS! AND QUIT USING THEM IN FRONT OF THE SELECTION GIRLS! NOW THAT YOU'RE HERE, IT'S TIME THAT WE FOCUS ON OUR DUTY!"

"Sure. Whatever you say, Paps."

The three of us snickered a laugh. I can see why Claire finds the skeleton brothers entertaining. The way they argue is nearly identical to a married couple, but in a brotherly way. Sans is mysterious no doubt, but his bad puns and smart pranks can make some people laugh. Papyrus is a hard worker, filled with positive energy that puts a smile on everyone's faces. Together, they make a great team.

"COLLEEN DARWIN?" Papyrus calls out.

"Oh! That's me! Wish me luck, guys!" Colleen beams happily, walking forward.

"Luck!” Delilah and I said in usion.

We watched as Colleen beamed with joy as she walked through the huge double doors Papyrus and Sans stood to either side. There are actually two ways to get into the ballroom. One is where the skeleton brothers are, the other is down the hallway. That entrance is for the very important guests that aren’t from Berdea or Auradon. Curiosity suddenly made me wonder what the ballroom looks like. I heard that it overlooks the gardens and the forest where we can see Mount Ebott.

Suddenly, Delilah clears her throat. My thoughts were paused at the moment as I turned to who she was looking at. My entire body went still as if they weren’t functioning anymore. Standing a few feet away is Malachite, giving us a cold stare. Beside her is the two-faced Fiona.

"I don't think we’ve met," A wicked smile spreads across her face. "I'm Malachite Levoue, you can call me Mal for short."

"I know who you are, you're that famous monster model from Coloratura that poses in fricken bikinis." Delilah hisses, her voice sounding distraught.

"Oh, don't lose your temper, dearie. I'm only here to get to know my competitors. I see we have a mage in the Selection? Alban isn't it?" Malachite turns her attention to me, her stares sending me chills deep into my spine. Something felt very . . . Wrong.

"Yes."

"How nice. I'd love to see you perform your magic some other time, little witch. Anyway, besides the introductions, I’m actually here to give you two a friendly warning. Don't get in my way, I won't get in yours." She warns us with a vicious glare, leaving us speechless before Sans calls out her name.

"See you at the ballroom, buddies," Fiona sneers at us, joining Malachite.

I immediately grabbed on to Delilah's wrist before she tries anything rash. "Delilah, don't. It's not worth it." I begged her.

Her breathing was laboring, but my grip on her didn't falter as I watched her face turn red out of anger before she finally spoke again.

"But she was pestering us for no reason!" She tried to pull her arm away, but I refused to let go as she kept a hard expression on her face.

"This is the type of reaction she wants from us," I held her close, hoping she would calm down. "If you let your temper get out of hand, you will be eliminated. And we are not going to play their game. Malachite and Fiona will have to do better than that if they're going to try to get us out of the competition."

Delilah takes a few more deep breaths before facing me. I sighed in relief as her expression begins to soften up. Thank goodness. I pull her over to the side for a little while as we watched more girls disappear through the doors. It didn't take long before Delilah was being herself again.

"Thanks, Zefie. You really saved my ass there." She says, her voice sounding grateful.

I responded by smiling at her. “It’s what friends do. And by that, I mean actual real friends.”

Delilah wraps her arms around me as I did the same. The number of girls remaining began to dwindle fast as Sans or Papyrus called out names. So far, only twelve human mages, with me included, entered the Selection. It was a fair number enough to ease my worries of being the only one.

It didn't take long before Delilah was called out to go. It was then, as I took a good look around, I began to realize that I was going to be called last. Oh. Oh, no, no, no, no.

Suddenly, my stomach twisted in an excruciating angle again. Why must I have be the last one? I asked myself. They must be doing a random draw, instead of going alphabetically. Or else I would have been first, because my last name starts with an 'A'.

"OOH! ZEFIE ALBAN!" Papyrus shouts, making me jump. "IT IS YOUR TURN TO GO!"

I took a few deep breaths, walking down the hallway where I can see Papyrus and Sans waiting for me.

"You're the final one to come up, kid." Sans spoke too, giving me a wide confident grin.

This is it, I thought to myself. Pretend that you never met Prince Asriel last night, pretend that you're surprised to finally get to see him.

My hands began to tremble, clutching my skirt tightly until my knuckles became white. Stay calm, stay clam! I begged myself. I really need to get over my anxiety quick. If I don't, I'll probably end up--

I felt my heels step over the hem of my skirt, making me lose my balance. The next thing I know, I watched as the floor was prepared to meet my face. Just then, I felt two arms stopping me from reaching the floor. I gasped and looked up to find Papyrus and Sans holding me up.

"Don't worry, kid," he gave me a wink. "Everybody falls for the prince."

"SANS! THIS IS NO TIME FOR YOUR RIDICULOUS PUNS!" Papyrus scolds him.

"Heh, sorry. I can't help myself, Paps. It was an opportunity I just had to catch."

"SAAANS!!"

I couldn't help but laugh so hard at their argument before Sans began to speak again.

"Anyway, don't worry, kid. We won't let you fall. Not in our watch."

"WE BELIEVE IN YOU, HUMAN MAGE ZEFIE!"

I gasped softly, smiling at both of them as they helped me stand up again. "Thank you, Sans. Thank you, Papyrus."

"NO NEED TO THANK US! NOW, GET IN THERE AND SHAKE THOSE BONES UP WITH CONFIDENCE!" Papyrus says, his voice voice filled with encouragement.

"What he said." Sans grins at me.

With a few deep breaths, I squared my shoulders and held my head a bit high as I slowly walked inside.

Suddenly, my eyes widened, the ballroom is absolutely breathtaking. The only similarity I can compare it with, is the ballroom I saw from Disney's 'Beauty and the Beast'. However, it is even more exquisite than the movie itself. Instead of the floors and columns being brownish, it was more in a creamy-beige color that blended well with marble. The floor pattern had quite a few tiles shaped as the golden flowers imprinted in different yellow shades over the square tiles. The arched windows stood tall, overlooking the forest and the beautiful skies of Berdea.

Over to my left, I see all of the girls standing on the side patiently. In the corner of my eye, I notice that Colleen and Delilah were grinning at me, making me smile even more. It only took me a moment before I found King Asgore and Queen Toriel standing at the far end of the ballroom with Prince Asriel and Princess Frisk standing between them. All of them, except Asgore, were wearing their royal robes with the Delta Rune symbol over their chests. Asgore was wearing a dark purple cape that draped over his shoulders and gold metal armor. His gold crown, with a big red ruby encrusted in the middle sat neatly atop his blond hair.

I swallowed hard, keeping a gentle expression on my face as I finally reached them and came to a slow stop. Just as Mettaton ordered us, I curtsied with my head lowered deeply to show my highest respect to Nanny's best friends. The silence was killing me, hearing my heart beating loudly in a fast pace.

This is it, I thought to myself. The truth will finally come out. All of the girls will know now.

"Hello, Your Majesties," I spoke softly, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear me. "My name is Zafrina Alban of Aura Cove, I am the daughter of Runa Cordelia."

In the background, I hear Toriel let out a loud gasp, making my body flinch a little as I raised my head up slowly.

"Zefie?" Toriel gaped at me, her red eyes twinkling brighter than any jewel, exposed her excitement. "You're Runa's child?!"

"Y-yes, Your Majesty--"

Just then, I stopped talking when she runs towards me, wrapping her soft arms around me in a big hug as I uttered an "oof" for the second time today.

"Oh my, look at you! You're so beautiful and so mature!" Toriel gushes.

My cheeks flushed rosy pink in embarrassment. In the background, I can hear the girls whispering to each other. Colleen looked like she was going to explode from the overwhelming joy that danced across her face. Well, so much for trying to stay out of the spotlight . . .

Asgore chuckled softly, approaching us and hugged me as well. I couldn't help but let out a chuckle before I returned the hug.

"It is an honor to meet our dearest best friend's daughter in the flesh," he spoke in a low rumbling voice that sent me chills down to my spine.

Malachite gaped at me. She's probably surprised by the fact that I'm the daughter of the king and queen's best friend. The daughter of the last seal monster, a Selkie. Great, another thing added to my list of worries.

"You may not look like her, but I can see her personality in yours." Asgore beamed, cupping my face with his big warm hands.

I blinked, still feeling embarrassed as he released me. The only response I can give them is a shy smile. As my gaze drifted, my eyes met with Asriel's for a moment. He smirked at me, keeping his 'innocent' expression plastered. Frisk fidgeted in place, looking so eager to meet me.

"Thank you, Your Majesties." The two of them smiled at me before Toriel spoke again.

"We'll have to catch up with details sometime, my child. Anyway, it is a pleasure to meet you, Zefie. I am Toriel, and that tall handsome fellow is my husband," she looks over towards Asgore as he smiled sheepishly before she bends down to whisper something in my ear. "But you can call him 'Mr. Fluffybuns.'"

I quickly bit my tongue down to hold back my laugh, putting a hand over my trembling mouth. So that's the one Nanny was talking about with Toriel. It's no wonder they laugh about it so much. I looked up at Toriel as she gave me a wink putting her finger over her lip.

"It's a great honor to meet you both," Toriel gave me a warm smile before she takes her place next to Asgore, allowing me to meet Asriel again face-to-face.

Asriel chuckled nervously, clearing his throat before he finally spoke. "H-hello, Miss Zafrina. I'm Prince Asriel, it is a great pleasure of having you compete in my Selection." He bows as my heart pounded loudly.

"Hello, Your Majesty. it's nice to meet you, too."

For a second, I thought I just saw the corner of his lip twitched when I used his formal name. Gotcha.

"Haha. Well then, Miss Zafrina, I do hope I get to have the chance to talk with you again," His voice rose a little after he spoke the last word, hinting last night's event when he threatened to have me date him. That is, if I don't call him by his real name.

I raised an eyebrow at him, giving him a small playful smirk. Game on, Prince.

I turned my attention away from him, before anyone catches our knowing glances towards each other. My eyes focuses on to Frisk, seeing her smile warmly at me. I adore her so much, she is the symbol of peace and mercy. Not only she freed the monsters from their prison, she also became the ambassador to speak for them.

"Hello, Your Highness," I curtsied before her. "It's nice to meet--"

Frisk suddenly surprises me by hugging me tightly, cutting me off as she lets out a soft giggle. "Hello, Zefie! it's nice to meet you, too! I've heard so much about you from my mother and father's letters! I hope we get the better chance to know each other some other time." She gushes, speaking in a gentle voice.

I didn't know how to respond to her, so I decided to return the hug before she released me. I gave her a soft smile and curtsied before I walked over to where Colleen and Delilah are waiting for me. Suddenly, my breath was caught in my throat when I felt some of the girls, including Malachite, staring at me. I let out a shaky breath as Delilah wrapped her arms around me.

"Don't mind them, Zefie," she reassures me in her hushed voice. "Who cares if they think you're a threat, I still see you as my friend."

"Delilah's right. Just because the king and queen acknowledged you as their best friend's daughter, doesn't mean that you're going to be treated better than the rest of us. They're not like that." Colleen holds my hand, giving them a tight squeeze.

I leaned against Colleen's arm before we hear Prince Asriel began to speak again. "Thank you, ladies. I would like to say how much it was a pleasure to meet every one of you. Each of you showed such potential, giving me hope that I will have a chance of finding my future wife during my Selection."

All of the girls responded by squealing and applauding at his response. I felt my heart feel constricted, clutching at my chest. This event has just been too overwhelming, I guess. However, it's still early, so perhaps a stroll around the palace should ease my nerves.

"Now that you've met my family," Asriel continued to speak, getting my attention again. "It's time that everyone joins us at the dining room, where our breakfast is prepared and served."

My stomach growled loudly once he mentioned food, making me gasp as I quickly hid behind Colleen. Some of the girls were looking around to see who made that strange sound. I turned and found Asriel glancing around before his gaze settled on me. Well, I'm fucked, I thought to myself as my cheeks flushed rosy pink in embarrassment. Oh god, I just wanna run back upstairs and hide in my room for the rest of the day.

To my surprise, Asriel puts his hand over his stomach. "Ah! My deepest apologies, I guess I'm feeling a bit famished. Shall we follow my parents to the dining room now?"

"Yes, that's a wonderful idea, my son. I, too am feeling hungry myself." Asgore chuckled, walking out of the ballroom with Toriel holding onto his arm.

Frisk and Asriel follow after them, exchanging a brief conversation in hushed voices. And finally, the rest of us followed as we exit the lovely ballroom. Delilah and Colleen wiggled their eyebrows at me as if they knew that Asriel said that just to save me from dying of embarrassment. I shook my head, putting my hands over my stomach. I can't help it, I just love food.

"That was so nice of him saving you like that," Delilah smirks at me, nudging my shoulders with hers.

"Right?! I'm so jealous, Zefie! Do you really love food that much?" Colleen asks, patting my head just to cheer me up.

"First of all, he's just trying to be nice. There wasn't exact proof that it was me," I said, unsure whether I was trying to comfort myself or dodge away from the subject.

"And second," I continued. "Yes I absolutely love food! Call me a fatty, but I can never go on throughout the day without having something in my stomach." I waved my arms dramatically as they laughed.

"You're not a fatty, you're just a person that loves food." Delilah yawns loudly, stretching her arms out.

"Ah, that reminds me," Colleen faces me as the three of us began to slow down, but kept a good distance enough to stay close to the group. "About your mom, Runa Cordelia. is that why you never said anything when I mentioned about her yesterday? Were you afraid that maybe we wouldn't like you if we found out?"

I blinked twice, almost forgetting about that before I answered. "Y-yeah, but it's mostly because I didn't want it to be a big deal for me when I compete. I just don't want the attention on me, that's all." I shrugged my shoulders, rubbing my arm meekly.

"Well don't feel that way, we're not going to be like Fiona and use it against you. We're friends Zefie, and nothing is going to change that."

"Yup. What she said," Delilah says earnestly.

"Thanks, guys. That means a lot to me."

Colleen began to squeal. "I still can't believe your mom is Runa! Her reputation is very high, did you know that her father was King Asgore's General?"

"What? Really?" Delilah's eyes went wide.

"Yup! My grandfather met him, too. He told me that General Cordelia's human form is suppose to be handsome to a human's standard."

"Pfft stop! I don't wanna hear anymore details!" I complained, making both of them chuckle.

We continued to follow after the girls, carefully keeping my hands over my stomach as if it will help keep the noises in, and trying not to be obvious at the same time. Coming from the same direction as to where the elevator is, we walk past it and find ourselves in another corridor, the columns lining them. My eyes lit up. I can smell something so inviting, feeling my mouth starting to salivate.

Just as I was about to mention the wonderful smell to Colleen and Delilah, I suddenly felt a strong hand grip my wrist. In one quick move, their other hand covered my mouth just before I could think or utter a cry. The surroundings blurred as I was reeled out of the hall, and behind a large pillar. Frantically, I tried to pull away, but they refused to let go. Oh my god! Who?! What?! Why?! I muffled out a cry as I quit struggling, trying to look over my shoulder to see who or what was holding me captive, their grip on me softened.

Asriel?!

My body melted from the sudden relief. He quickly put his finger over his lips just to cut me off from what I was about to say or ask. With panic seeping throughout my body, I quickly took a peek at Colleen and Delilah in case they realized that I was gone. And to my surprise, Frisk was talking to them; they seem to be having an interesting conversation. I guess that would keep them busy for a little while.

Once they disappeared out of eyesight, Asriel pulls his hand away from my mouth just to allow me to speak again. "Your Majesty? What in the world--"

"Ah, ah, ah, Zefie." He uses his finger to cut me off. "Did you really forget about what I told you to call me if we're not around people?"

I gaped at him, feeling shocked as my cheeks flushed red. So, he was not joking after all. My heart began to beat in a fast pace, hearing it thump loudly enough for the both of us to hear.

"Sorry, sorry! A-Asriel, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in there, where everyone is waiting at the moment?"

"Well I had to see you first before we eat. I'm here to thank you for keeping our secret untold."

Suddenly, I remembered that I ended telling my maids about it.

"Uh, yeah about that, I uh . . . Well . . . I ended up telling my maids."

"You told your maids?" He raised his eyebrows at me, not looking angry at all. "That's actually fine, I kind of knew you would end up telling them."

"What? How?" It was my turn to raise my eyebrows at him.

Asriel chuckled softly at my expression. "After you left with Sans, I went back up to my room to check your name on the list and the maids you are assigned with. And to my surprise, you got lucky. Barbara and Lesley are good, loyal people. And good at keeping secrets."

"Yes, yes they are," I nodded in agreement. "So, what else did you want to say to me? I don't want to sound rude or anything, but I'm feeling super hungry."

My stomach growled louder than before, making me groan in pain.

His eyes widened and chuckled. "Ah, so it really was your stomach that growled with anticipation! I apologize, I'll make this quick, it's actually something very important . . ."

"Oh, what is it?"

"I'm uh . . . W-well I uh . . ." He stuttered nervously, beads of sweat suddenly forming over his fur if possible as he was trying so hard to say it. "I-I am asking you if you could go on a date after we eat breakfast."

After he mentioned the word 'date' my entire face glowed in a rather reddish-pink color. "W-wait, If it's because I used your formal name, I didn't mean to, I was just--"

"No, no, no. That's not why at all." He chuckled softly, giving me a warm smile. "I just want us to talk more, and I honestly couldn't stop thinking about last night. There's something about you that just makes me eager to find out what makes you laugh, or the things that makes you nerd out."

I gasped, putting my hand over my mouth. I didn't think he would keep that in his mind all night. Laugh? Nerd out? He must be serious.

Just as I was about to accept it, I suddenly remembered that Colleen dressed at her best, hoping that Asriel will take her out on a date. I felt so guilty . . . She helped me in so many ways. I can't go on a date with him, knowing that Colleen will feel a little bad that she dressed up for nothing.

"So, w-what do you say Zefie? Do you accept?" Asriel spoke again, waiting for my answer patiently.

"Ah, Asriel. I would love to go on a date with you, but . . . I'm afraid I'll have to decline." I looked down, rubbing my arm softly.

"W-What? Why? Was it because I did something wrong?" His voice was filled with panic when he asked.

"No, no! Not at all, it's not it at all." I put my hands over his reassuringly. "It's just . . . Well . . . You see, I have this friend, and she is absolutely funny and very optimistic. She made me feel happy in so many ways, that words can't describe how grateful I am to meet someone like her. And because she told me how confident she felt, she thought that maybe you will notice her and maybe ask her out on a date. Other than that, I'm not saying no on purpose, I just don't want to be the friend that makes them lose their hopes."

Asriel gasps, surprised by my reason for declining his offer. I watched as his green eyes twinkled with admiration, watching as a smile formed on his face.

"Once again, you managed to give me a reason to admire you Zefie. Alright then, I can do that. I'll ask your friend on a date for your sake. What is her name?"

"It's Colleen Darwin, she's a squirrel monster wearing an orange colored gown. Her hair color is light cyan." I answered, remembering her by memory.

"Ah, Colleen." Asriel nods, remembering her right away. "Yeah, you're absolutely right about her. She is very optimistic and positive. She reminds me of Papyrus."

I responded by beaming with joy, giving his hands a tight squeeze. "Thank you so much Asriel, you have no idea how happy I am to hear that."

"Your welcom. And thank you for finally calling me by my real name."

"You wish, Your Majesty." I stuck my tongue out at him teasingly, starting to walk away until I felt his hand gripped my wrist again and pulled me back to face him.

"How very clever of you, Zefie. Even if I'll go on a date with Colleen, that still doesn't mean that you're off the hook." He says, staring at me intently.

"W-what do you mean?" My heart was pounding fast.

Asriel leans his face towards my mine until his snout nearly touched my nose. "What I mean to say is, that I'm still going to ask you on a date once I finish mine with Colleen first."

He chuckled darkly, his hot breath sending me intense chills throughout my body. Did I not mention how dangerously close his lips are to mine? I didn't think he had it in him. I can only gape at him, feeling my cheeks flush red again.

"I-It's a date!" I gasped, surprised at my own outburst.

"Good, I'll hold you to it. Other than that, shall we head for breakfast?" He beckons the door that led to the dining room.

"We shall," I walked up ahead first, but stopped. "By the way, why did you have Frisk go and talk to my friends?"

Asriel can only smirk at me before he spoke. "You are not the only person who told someone about our secret. And because Frisk is my best friend, I ended up telling her about our nightly event. So, she decided to do me a favor by distracting your friends while I pulled you away just to ask you on a date. And because that plan somewhat failed, well . . . Y-you get the idea."

"R-right, but like I said, I didn't mean to. And besides, you should still be happy, you still succeeded by asking me out on a date either way." I can only smile at him, watching his cheeks flushed red over his thick white fur as he scratched the back of his head.

"That's true. Well played, Zefie. Now let's go and eat, I'm feeling very famished after smelling that delicious scent."

I giggled softly at him before we walked together towards the dining room.

As we entered, I suddenly felt a lot of the girls looked up and stared at us. Some looked with curiosity on what could be the reason why I walked in with Asriel. Others, like Malachite and Fiona, sent cold stares. I think Asriel caught on to it, before he began to speak.

"Ah. Please forgive me for being late, ladies. You all can go ahead and start eating. However, I do not appreciate the stares some of you are giving to Miss Alban. And that should stop now." He says, his voice sounding stern.

Some of the girls quickly looked down, feeling embarrassed for their rash behavior towards me. In the corner of my eye, I saw Malachite clearing her throat nervously and Fiona blushing, looking flustered. I lowered my head down to avoid any awkward glances as I hurried over to where Delilah and Colleen sat. I sat between them, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

He didn't have to do that for me, I thought to myself. Why does he always have protect me? I can handle myself.

"Gosh, you okay?" Colleen asks, her voice filled with concern.

"Just a little shaken up, that's all. Maybe I'm just hungry." I said, and that was the truth.

"If it's because of you being gone for five minutes, then don't feel bad. Maybe he stopped you for something important."

Actually, he did, I wanted to say.

Instead, I decided to keep quiet about it and let Asriel be the one to surprise for her. Today is going to turn out okay, I just have to make the best of it. I wonder where Asriel will plan on taking Colleen on their first date. I glanced over at Asriel as he took his seat between Asgore and Frisk.

As I relaxed, I decided to use this time to look around. The dining room is huge. I can't believe a table this long even existed! It had to be at least fifty feet long. Banners hung among the walls in the colors of gold and purple, with the delta rune crest imprinted in the middle. Very classy, I thought to myself.

I turn my attention over at today's breakfast. Oh! There are different kinds of dishes to choose from. I go ahead and take a few sausages and some scrambled eggs over to my plate and began to dig in.

Holy cow! They absolutely taste delicious! Since I'm around people, I ate in a well-mannered way just to look polite. It was a good thing that I had Lesley not do my lips, I would have tasted lipstick over my food.

"So, hey, not to sound too nosy, but where did you disappear to?" Delilah whispered softly enough for only the two of us to hear. "For a second you were behind us, and the next thing we knew, the princess somehow magically appears and decided to have a small chat about how our day was going."

I chuckled softly. I'm surprised that she didn't even see or hear any of what just happened.

"I was pulled to the side because Prince Asriel wanted to talk with me about something. Other than that, Princess Frisk only came by just to distract you guys from questioning my sudden disappearance."

"Huh . . . That makes sense, so what'd he say?"

"He wanted to take me out on a date, but I declined."

Delilah gaped at me as if I just grew another head. "Are you crazy? Why would you do that?"

I can only smile at her, shrugging my shoulders. "You'll understand why."

And just like that, Delilah decided to not press on, continuing to eat her pancakes.

Over the past fifteen minutes, we continued to eat and chat. A few monster girls that sat across from me began to ask questions about Nanny. Things like her personality, her human form, and what she's doing as of now. Of course I gladly answered by how amazing she is, though I sadly told them that I've never seen Nanny use her magic before. They told me that Selkies have the power to cure certain illnesses and heal monsters and humans. I was intrigued by how much they know about Nanny's kind, I'll have to look into the royal library to read about them. Or perhaps I should talk to Asgore or Toriel about Nanny's past.

Surprisingly, I ended up meeting a new friend Delilah introduced me to.

Her name is Selene Marcos of Elridge. That's the town Nanny and I used to live, and where we first found Bryn. She's actually a nice girl, but there are times when she would show signs of being a little too shy to even look at people in the eye when she speaks. Now I'm starting to understand why I shouldn't be timid all the time. Looks like I'll have to get lessons from Papyrus on how to be confident about myself.

Just then, Asgore announces that after we finish our meals, we can go ahead and explore around the palace. However, he kindly reminds us that if we plan on leaving outside the palace, we must have a guard to chaperone us. Well, it is a big palace after all. The only place I plan on going is the greenhouse. Something about that place just makes me want to explore it.

One by one, the girls leave the dining room to go ahead and explore the palace. However, there will be guards on duty to keep us away from going to certain places that only the royal family can go to. I sighed in relief once Malachite and Fiona left to go wherever they pleased. King Asgore and Queen Toriel left as well, with Frisk following behind them.

I glanced over at Asriel, seeing him look a bit nervous. Once his gaze met mine, I beckoned to Colleen with a smile on my face that he should ask her now. He responds by nodding, walking towards our direction.

"Hello, ladies," Asriel greets us with a soft smile.

"Hello, Your Majesty," Delilah, Colleen, and I responded in unison.

"I hope none of you don't mind if I borrow Miss Colleen's time, do you?"

I smiled to myself as I 'pretended' to look surprised. "Oh, no; not at all. You two look like you need some time alone, come on Delilah."

I quickly grabbed her by the arm before she protests, leaving Colleen behind with Asriel. I didn't miss the way Colleen's face turned red, overwhelmed with what's happening to her. I quickly placed my hand over Delilah's lips before she really loses it.

"See you later, Colleen!" I called over my shoulder.

Just as we exit the dining hall, Delilah quickly pulls her arm away and began to speak.

"What was that all about? Why'd you pull me away?"

"You remember when you asked me why I rejected Prince Asriel's offer to date him?" I smirked at her.

"Yes? But what does that have to do with us leaving right away--"

Her words suddenly trails off, starting to thinking through as if she's trying to put the puzzle pieces together. "You . . . told him to take Colleen instead, didn't you?"

"Mhm," I nodded once.

"And you remembered when she was hoping that the way she dressed today will get him to notice her."

"Mhm~."

She became speechless for a moment before she finally spoke again. "Wow, Zefie . . . Thank you, you really made her day. I don't think I've met anyone that would decline the prince's offer just to have your friend take it."

"Colleen deserves a chance like this Delilah, it'll make my day just to see her smile."

"Me too,"

We continued to walk down the corridor, admiring the details of the palace until Delilah decided to go back up the second floor for a spa day. She did offer for me to come with her, but I told her that I was going to go check out the greenhouse. I walked with her to the elevator and waved her goodbye as the doors closed between us.

If I remember correctly, the greenhouse should be over at the east side of the palace. From the elevator, I go ahead and went straight towards an empty hallway, the large columns lining the room. Up ahead, I can see huge double doors shaped in an arch. It looks beautiful because it's made out of different colored glass, framed in pure gold that still glimmered as if it never aged. The more I get closer, the more I can see the exquisite details of the doors. From the sides, gold leaves and silver vines entwined around the frames of the doors to outline them, looking as if they were growing out from the polished marble ground.

The sunlight beamed through the door, making my dress glow in different colors from the stained glass. How beautiful, I thought to myself. It's no wonder I adore the gardens so much. Over to my left, there was a metal sign that reads out: 'Please take off your foot wear before you enter the garden, thank you.'

I raised my eyebrow at it. What a strange rule, maybe Asgore has his reasons. So, I did as the sign asked, taking off my heels and left it on the side before I turned the silver doorknob, swinging the door open with the bright lights enveloping me.

#selectiontale #undertale #undertale au #Zefie Alban #asriel dreemurr #frisk (undertale)#undertale sans #papyrus #toriel #asgore #terato writing #fanfic

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like-rain-or-confetti · 6 years

Text

Sleepless (Demetri Volturi x Reader)

Trigger Warning: Insomnia (?), medication, nightmares, night terrors, can’t sleep

Demetri wished you'd be returning to him in a better state. You were sent to America, specifically to Carlisle Cullen to help you sleep. However, after a few weeks, Carlisle contacted the Volturi sending you home by your request. Carlisle claimed you had gotten some sleep every few nights but would wake up from nightmares and the occasional night terror. This morning the Volturi received a call from Carlisle, you were landing soon but be prepared. You hadn't slept for four days and had been refusing sleep for twenty fours hours now. You would definitely be in a bad mood. You weren’t grumpy when you were tired, you were fragile and Demetri was emotionally exhausted.The same exhaustion that had eventually lifted after you left. Somehow within seconds it was all rushing back to him.

You cracked open the entrance door at first being welcomed by the familiar dimmed lighting of the entrance with its high ceilings and metal torches. Bianca smiled at you but you could see the glimpse of questioning in her eyes but you knew she wouldn't ask. She learned, like the others, not to ask questions. She raised her index finger at you gesturing for you to wait whilst she dialed a number and held the phone to her ear. She spoke in Italian but also in a hushed voice. She spoke softly to the Volturi since they had super-hearing. She then hung up the phone, lowering her finger and twisting to the computer and typing away once more. You simply stood and watched her awaiting some sort of indication from Bianca but she gave none.

"(Y/N)." A male voice said. Alec and Jane were a few feet away from you. "Welcome home." Jane said with an unreadable expression. Atleast the sentiment was there even if the sincerity wasn't. "Hello Jane, Alec." You offered a nervous smile. "It's good to be back. It wasn't the same without you." That wasn't a lie. It really wasn't the same without the Volturi. It was a whole new experience. When you were forced to sleep, it was nightmares of the Volturi who you knew. In America, it was nightmares of the Volturi and the Cullen's who you barely knew, in a place you barely knew. "We'll admit it was strange not having a human prodding around the halls." Jane retorted. They were trying to be nice and you knew but they weren't willing to make much of an effort. They never were. "Come with us. Aro will want to see you." Alec spoke up as the twins held hands, interlocking fingers. "Demetri is in the throne room with him. He is on duty at this moment."

Alec's cold hand lightly pushed you into the elevator infront of the twins who got in last and stood in front of you. "Did you get any rest on the plane?" Jane asked lightly, her voice held innocence but you knew her facial expression have the tone a hint of sinister. A shudder ran through you as Alec looked over his shoulder, twisting his torso slightly to look at you awaiting your answer. "No..." You said quietly. You were expecting a lecture, some kind of comment but they said nothing and Alec turned back around before continuing the conversation. "Did you sleep prior to the trip?" "No." "Demetri will be disappointed that you have not slept, (Y/N)." Jane said. "When was the last time you slept?" In all honesty, you didn't know. The days melded into one after a few of them. "A few days." Jane and Alec systematically turned to look at one another for a moment. The Volturi knew that line well. It is what you'd say when you didn't really know how long it had been and wanted to downplay the situation. You cracked under the silence you received in response. "I tried. I think it's been four days." You said weakly. "Calm yourself." Alec said. "You do not need to get into such a state." "I'm sorry." You rubbed your eyes. "Don't do that." Jane said. "Your eyes are red enough." "My eyes are red?" You frowned as the three of you exited the elevator and headed down the the corridor to the throne room. "Yes." Alec nodded. "You have red circles around your eyes. I assume you are not under any pain? Your eyes look very irritated." "I wouldn't say painful. They're itchy as well as having some aches. I'm used to it now though." The twins said nothing in response as you ended up a few feet from the double doors to the throne room.

Jane opened the doors as Alec once again pushed you inside gently. Demetri was stood at his regular post, arm tucked behind his back in his usual manner. He watched you enter. He didn't offer any kind of welcome or even a smile but you were used to this as he was more of a private person. "Ahhh! Young (Y/N) has returned!" Aro said in his usual cheerful manner as he rose from his throne. "You look terrible." Caius glowered at you and Aro was quick to jump to your defence. "Now, now, brother- manners. You know better, (Y/N) has been ill and has undergone quite a challenging time." You looked at Aro in sudden alarm. "Carlisle has been keeping us updated, rather explicitly." Aro stated in response to your alarm. "We will speak about that in more private settings at a later time but for now..." Aro held out his hand in waiting. "I'd like to see your progress my dear." "I wouldn't call it progress." You mumbled, holding back tears. Caius was about to snap at you for talking back but Aro caught him with a look. He had been through this with Caius before. You were likely delirious at this point, now was not the time to be lecturing about mannerisms. Aro carefully took your hand and held it securely within his own.

"I want to go home!" You sobbed. "Please let me go home!" "I understand this is bizarre for you..." Carlisle said soothingly. "but you do not need to worry. I'm here to help you." "I don't need help." You cried. "You and I both know that you know that isn't true. No one wants you suffering and you are, you are suffering. I only ask for a little trust." "You need to tell me, do you reject sleep or can you not sleep?" "I can't sleep!" You said exasperated, your eyes watering with tears. "My mind won't shut off." You rocked slightly on your chair, your knees pulled into your chest. "You do that a lot." Carlisle said, his gaze flickering to your rocking. "As well as excessive scratching and rubbing at your eyes, did you do this before coming here?" You shook your head slightly. "I didn't do the rocking or the scratching. I've always rubbed my eyes though. Demetri didn't like it." "I don't imagine he did, your eyes look very sensitive, they're starting to go a little red." You chewed your lip. "Have you ever spoke with him about your fear of vampires?" "Who told you that? I've never said I was afraid of vampires." "It's not an irrational fear, in fact it's rather clear and obvious but what isn't clear is why. You never showed disturbance to vampires. Infact, I was told you settled better than the average human. There was a little unease but you adapted well. That changed suddenly and I need to know why. Are you willing to tell me why?"

You were fast asleep, buried in the duvet, the moonlight illuminating the dark room. You shifted as a short gust of cold air hit your face. You shifted again when you felt it again. The third time woke you up. You stretched slightly before running your eyes with a little whine. You went to stretch before immediately halting. Inches from your face was a man you didn't know, his red eyes glistening. You knew immediately that he wasn't a part of the Volturi as his dated red and cream clothes were ripped in various areas. His teeth looked sharp and were barred at you. He was breathing through his mouth which was what had disturbed you from your sleep. You had seen his stance before, he was ready to lunge. You slowly sat up, shaking violently as your eyes were trained on the man. His gaze followed you. It was silent for a moment and panic was building up fast. Why hadn't anyone realised he was in here? Where was everyone? "W-why are you h-here?" You immediately screamed when the man lunged grabbing your face with his large hands, his nails digging into your neck and cheeks. You screamed and screamed even after a force you didn't see, hauled the man off of you. You rushed to the corner of the room covering your face, there were five stinging sensations on your face and neck. A streak of blonde hair could be identified as a fight ensued and Jane and Alec burst into the open door. Jane looked at the intruder who suddenly screamed in agony. You pressed yourself into the wall as you continued to scream in terror hearing the man's torture.

Someone called your name and you looked up sharply. You wished you didn't. There were more guards in your room and you had just looked up just in time to watch as the man's head and arms were ripped off. Felix cursed in Italian as he turned to see what had caught your attention. Demetri was immediately by your side hauling you off the wall and pressing you into his chest. Sobs racked your body as you continued to scream the commotion yet to die down. A couple of the guards were demanding to know how the man had got into the castle and how he had gotten to you without suspicion. "I'm here. I'm here." Demetri mumbled into the top of your head despite how likely it was you didn't hear him. You gradually went quiet but didn't respond to anyone. Demetri continued to hold you as Jane left the room. Santiago and Afton were disposing of the body piece by piece as Demetri made sure you didn't see it. He continued to stroke your hair, talking to you every now and then but would receive nothing in return. You looked like you were in a trance. "It's shock." Alec said as he sat on the floor beside you, crossing his legs. Felix passed Alec a blanket and Alec manoeuvred the blanket around you. Demetri shifted back a bit so Alec could wrap it around you. "They won't get cold now." Felix nodded kneeling down to your level a few feet away trying to catch your gaze but with failure. "It's been too long." Demetri said to the two guards as he rocked you slightly in attempt to pull you out of the daze. "I'm getting worried." "We can't do anything for them Demetri. Don't worry, they'll come out of it soon enough and we'll be here." Jane returned with a glass of water and the guard tried to coax you into taking a sip of it but to no avail. Demetri and Felix were surprised at the attentiveness if the twins as Jane stroked your hand lightly and Alec patted your back, both in the attempt to stir you. Kindness seemed to come much more fluently when you weren't aware of it. "Should I request Aro? Perhaps he'll know what to do with his gift."

You peeled yourself from Demetri's hold, rising to a stand and walking to the bathroom. Alec was the only one to follow you, looming in the bathroom doorway. You looked at yourself in the mirror. There were five half moon dents in your face from the man's nails that were bright red and dangerously close to breaking skin and spilling blood. You turned on the cold water in the sink running your hand under the falling water before pressing lightly on one of the dents and repeated this pattern a few times. The more you did, the more your face twisted to fight more tears. "You can cry." Alec said but you didn't respond, you just continued to dab at your wounds as you fought back tears.

You didn't sleep that night, or the night after that. By the third night you fell asleep, Demetri laying next to you and you awoke two hours later from a nightmare. Soon enough the nightmares were so bad that you refused to sleep which began a vicious cycle.

Aro's eyes flickered to you as a few more images passed through his head. "I understand that Carlisle has provided some medication..." You nodded. "A pill to help me sleep. He said that as soon as I get a regular sleep pattern, things will begin to clear up." Aro nodded. "Our dear friend was very pleased with your cooperation. We understood it's difficult. However, it saddens me greatly that you abrupted stopped your treatment with the demand to come back. Are you certain that is the best decision?" Your eyes watered again, dangerously close to tears escaping and Aro caught eyes with Demetri from behind you. There was a slight whooshing sound as Demetri was immediately beside you, his gaze on you. Demetri closed the door to his room after tugging you inside and sitting on a large lounge chair. You stood fidgeting for a moment. "Are you angry at me? Are you angry that I came back?" "A little, but I understand the decision. I hope you realize that this cannot continue, you need to sleep." You nodded fighting back tears again. "I want to sleep." Demetri's eyed bored into you for a moment. "Come here." You complied and when you were at as reach Demetri reached out and pulled you into his lap. "I don't care what it takes, we're going to get through this together." You nodded in response. "Now, I'm aware that you have medicine to take..." You nodded reluctantly before rolling off of him to dig through your bag pulling out a box as well as a bottle of water from your flight. You headed back to him looking at the box as he once again reached out and pulled you into his lap. Reluctance really began to set in. You weren't ready for the nightmares. You weren't ready for the battle of falling asleep. Demetri saw this and pulled you closer to him. "I'll be right here, cara mia. Just think of how much better you'll feel after some rest." "I see him when I close my eyes." You whispered. "He can't hurt you. You're here in my arms. No one can get you from here."

A quiet sob escaped you when you quickly popped the pill into your mouth and swallowed it with a chug of water. "That's it. There you go. Everything will be okay now. Do you think you need anything?" Usually it's be a pillow to act as a barrier between you and Demetri's cold body but his jacket as well as the fire place were doing the job instead. So you simply got a blanket and settled into Demetri's lap. Demetri tucked you in as tears fell from your closed eyes. He held you securely in his arms as you two remained in silence. You felt Demetri softly trace the bone structure of your face. After twenty minutes, you were completely limp and asleep. Demetri slowly lifted your legs over the arm of the chair as well putting the blanket over them. He smiled down at you and soaked in the moment. This was the first step for you.

#twilight #reader #volturi #one shot #demetri volturi #trigger warning

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bby-bxrnes · 6 years

Text

Badass Ballerina

Ship: Bucky Barnes x Dancer!Reader

Summary: You present yourself as a major tomboy, with no girly side to be seen. You fight like the boys, swear like the boys, and drink like the boys. But then, one night, Bucky sees a side of you that you keep hidden from everyone else.

Words: 2477

Warnings: Major fluff, ridiculous swearing, really creative swearing, alcohol consumption, teeny bit of violence (sparring w/ Steve), really tooth-rotting fluff, crappy knowledge of dancing

A/N: Honestly, this was super self indulgent of me and it’s kinda a mess but hey, it’s cute so I hope y’all enjoy it.

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When Tony had announced a new member joining the team, the rest of the Avengers weren’t sure who to expect. They certainly didn’t expect her though. She arrived, dressed in dark colors, a leather jacket adorning her frame as well as some worn in boots covering her feet. At first, they thought she might be like Natasha, silent and brooding, but they couldn’t be more wrong. She was far from silent, she had the wit and sass of Tony and Clint combined. She was quite intimidating yet everyone on the team loved to be in her presence because she always had something funny to say. She was close with everyone, but no one knew much about her past. One particular person in the compound had made it his mission to peel away that rough exterior and see what was underneath.

The first time Bucky had watched her fight, he was mesmerized. She hadn’t opted to spar with Natasha, but practically demanded to spar with Steve. Steve was rather hesitant, easily being twice her weight and a foot taller than her, but she had been stubborn, so he finally acquiesced. “Don’t hold back on me, old man.” she had taunted, drawing her hands up to guard her face. Steve just chucked and shook his head, matching her stance. They circled for a moment, a confident smile plastered on her face. Surprisingly, she struck first, lunging forwards and landing a solid punch right to Steve’s sternum, successfully knocking the air out of him. “You’re getting slow, c’mon gramps.” she laughed, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. Steve smirked and started trying to jab out at her, but she was able to block all of his attempts, countering with blows of her own.

She moved with such grace, but power at the same time, an at-ease smile on her face the whole time. Her and Steve were now fully going at it, trading kicks and aerial stunts, the rest of the team whooping and cheering at the entertaining fight. Even with his super-soldier stamina, Bucky could tell Steve was getting worn out, but Y/N showed no signs of slowing. With one attack, Y/N had done a classic Natasha move, clamping her thighs around Steve’s head and threw her body weight around, slamming Steve to the mat. She was able to wrestle him over onto his front and pull one of his arms into a submission hold, eventually making Steve give a few desperate taps with his free hand. She climbed off of him and offered her hand down to him, helping the now exhausted Captain America up to his feet. The smile she gave everyone ignited something in his chest he hadn’t felt for a long time, and he knew that this girl was going to be trouble for his heart.

To say that she had a dirty mouth would be an understatement. Her swearing vocabulary was enough to make Steve flush and shout “Language!” from across the room. It caught everyone off guard at first, such foul language coming from her should’ve been expected, but Bucky couldn’t help but stare in amusement whenever she let out a string of colorful expletives. She was absolutely unashamed of using otherwise insulting names to address her friends, the more crude the name, the closer the person was to her.

Tony, Clint, and Sam were usually called fucknut or something creative like that, while her ruder ones such as cockmuncher and ass-eater were reserved for Bucky, who she had adopted as her best friend. “Fucking goddamnit, cock eating, mother-shitting asshole!” was one of Bucky’s favorite phrases he had heard her yell during a rather grueling mission where one of HYDRA’s monkeys had tried to grab her ass. Steve, of course, had frozen where he was at the filthy words flowing through the comms, causing him to almost get knocked out, had Bucky not been nearby to save his ass. She would swear at anything and everything, especially if Steve was nearby, she loved to get a rise out of him.

“Alright, fuckers! Who wants to play a game?” she yelled, walking into the common room with several bottles of various alcohol in her hands. “Who thinks they can drink me under the table?” she smirked, glancing around at her friends, a challenging glint in her eyes. “I’m down.” Clint said, lounging comfortably on the couch. “I’m game.” Tony had said, being nearly as competitive as Y/N. “What about you, Buck? You too chicken?” she taunted, waving the bottles in front of him. “It wouldn’t be fair for me to join, doll. I can’t get drunk on regular alcohol, only that stuff that Thor brings from Asgard.” he said, slightly grateful that he had an out. “Well, lucky you, I had the big guy send some down, just for you.” she said, handing Bucky an unlabeled bottle of yellow liquid that seemed to be practically glowing. “Alright, I’m in.” he huffed, laughing at the malicious smirk on her face. She grinned wolfishly at her three challengers, passing Tony his favorite whiskey, and the vodka to Clint, keeping the tequila for herself.

The four of them went shot for shot, Y/N electing Natasha to keep count. Clint tapped out after finishing half of the bottle, claiming that he’d rather not wake up hating himself. Next was Tony a few shots later, claiming that Pepper would kill him if he got absolutely shitfaced without ‘proper supervision’. Bucky was honestly surprised at the fact that she was easily keeping up with him, and the two ended up drinking till they were both out of alcohol and pretty drunk, but neither were ready to tap out yet. “You have now won the position of my new drinking buddy.” she had proclaimed, ruffling Bucky’s hair drunkenly. They both woke up the next morning with pounding headaches, but when they saw each other in the kitchen, they fist-bumped and murmured “worth it” at the same time.

Bucky awoke in a cold sweat, contents of his nightmare slowly leaving his mind as his trained ears picked up a foreign sound this late at night. He threw the covers off of himself and slid a pair of sweats on before emerging from his room out into the dark hallway. Bucky was confused as he heard the soft classical music drifting through the dark compound. He assumed everyone had been asleep, but was proven wrong by the soft sounds bouncing off the walls. He began his adventure, following his trained ears to find the source of the music. He stopped outside what was usually used as a training room. He tried to listen over the soft music for a hint as to who was inhabiting the room, but all he could hear were soft footfalls.

He opened the door slowly, being as silent as possible so he wouldn’t disturb the inhabitant. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the silhouette of a woman dancing in the dark of the room, the only light source was the moonlight that filtered in through the ceiling to floor windows that covered the wall opposite him. The figure continued to dance, completely unaware of Bucky’s presence. He was transfixed as the girl effortlessly balanced in her pointe shoes, moving gracefully across the floor. The music came to an end and the ballerina finished dancing, her chest heaving softly with her breaths. “Wow.” Bucky breathed, causing the girl to turn to him. “Bucky! What are you doing here?” she called, the voice finally giving away who it was. “Y/N! I didn’t know you danced.” he said, completely stunned that the most tomboy member of the team was so graceful.

“Bucky, I swear if you tell a soul about this.” she threatened, sitting down and beginning to unwrap the ribbons that secured the dainty shoes to her feet. “I won’t. It’ll be our secret. That was so beautiful, Y/N.” he breathed, walking over and sitting next to her. “Thanks dorkwad.” she snorted. “And there’s the Y/N that I know.” he laughed, watching as a huge smile overtook her face. “I used to dance, y’know. Back then, in the 40’s. I haven’t for a while though.” he said, smiling softly at the memories that resurfaced. “I started dancing when I was little. Boys used to make fun of me and push me around because of it. So I started hiding it, dressing like boys, acting like boys, and it became a part of me. But I’ve always loved dancing, you just kinda lose yourself in the music, and it’s so freeing.” she said, eyes lighting up with passion.

“I’ve wanted to dance again, just haven’t found the right dame, y’know?” he said, lying through his teeth. He already found the girl he wanted to dance with again and she was sitting right next to him. “I’ve actually never danced, y’know, regularly. Never found a guy who wanted to dance with me.” she said, face falling. “I can try to teach you. It’s been a while, but I could try, if you’d like.” he offered, standing up and holding his hand out to her. She smiled and nodded, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her up. Bucky still wasn’t used to this softer side of Y/N, he was used to her being boisterous and loud, swearing like a sailor. He went over to where her phone was plugged into the speaker and put on his favorite song, a song he loved to dance to in the 40’s.

He walked back over to her, the jazz flowing through his veins, filling him with a familiar warmth. She stood, looking uncharacteristically nervous, Bucky giving her a soft, reassuring smile. “Here, your right hand on my shoulder, don’t worry, you’re fine.” he instructed, noticing her hesitancy to touch his metal shoulder. He placed his left hand gently on her hip, taking her left hand in his right hand. “Loosen up, Y/N. Feel the music, let it move you.” he said, feeling her tense, then relax into his hold. “Follow me.” he whispered, swaying gently, before taking a step, Y/N following. They repeated this motion, him stepping and her following, before she got the hang of it. They danced barefoot, just enjoying the other’s presence. The song slowed to an end and the two of them stood, still swaying, eyes locked together.

At one point while they were dancing, Y/N’s hands had shifted to lock around Bucky’s neck, Bucky’s arms now wrapped around her waist, holding her form close to his bare chest. Her head rested in the crook of his neck, Bucky was still stunned at this version of Y/N, all quiet and pliant, almost craving the closeness of Bucky. “Y/N?” he whispered, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “Hm?” she hummed, not moving from her position. “I-I’ve got something to tell you.” he breathed, heart hammering in his chest. “What is it, Buck?” she asked, pulling her head back to look him in the eyes. “Earlier, when I said, I hadn’t found the right dame to dance with, I was lying. I found my girl.” he whispered, watching her face fall. “Oh. Why aren’t you out there dancing with her then?” she asked, attempting to worm her way out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let her. “I am. She’s right here in front of me.” he finally confessed, his blue eyes searching her Y/E/C eyes.

“What?” she breathed, a little disbelieving laugh escaping her lips. “Y/N, I- I think I love you. I have for a while.” Bucky said, dropping his forehead to rest against hers, eyes slipping closed. “Oh, Buck.” she sighed and he immediately assumed the worst. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” he said, this time he was the one trying to escape, but she just tightened her grip on him. “No, dumbass. If anything you should’ve told me sooner. I’m bad with emotions, I haven’t dated anyone for a while cause I couldn’t let anyone in. But it’s different with you, Buck. You are just so goddamn trustable.” she laughed dryly. “I think I love you too, Buck.” She said, hands cupping his face and making him look at her. Bucky couldn’t help the huge smile that overtook his face, making her smile so bright that it’s radiance could’ve rivaled the sun’s.

Bucky gathered all his courage and leaned down, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. She kissed back instantly, a sigh of content leaving her lips. When they broke apart, their foreheads stayed rested together, eyes locked, swaying to the music in their own heads. “Can I take you out on a proper date sometime?” he asked, laughing at the face she pulled. “Nothing too fancy, right? I still fucking hate dresses.” she groaned. “No, nothing fancy. If you wanted, we could get some really greasy pizza and go mini golfing.” he laughed. “Sounds perfect to me.” she hummed, pressing another kiss to his lips. He eventually had to let her go so she could gather her things, but he walked her back to her room, the both of them parting ways with a sweet kiss, leaving both of them giggling like teenagers when neither of them wanted to walk away first. Bucky decided to finally give her one last kiss before continuing down the hall to his room, sneaking a glance back at her, smiling when he saw her still watching, he waved one last time before entering his room and falling with a happy sigh onto his bed.

The next morning he was relaxing on the couch having an argument with Sam when she waltzed in, stealing a pop-tart off of Steve’s plate before plopping herself directly into Bucky’s lap. Bucky was surprised at first but smiled happily and wrapped his arms around her waist, accepting the piece of pop-tart that Y/N held out to him. To say that everyone was shocked at this development would be yet another understatement. The two seemed to be in their own little world, joking and laughing like normal, but the little occasional kisses they shared confused everyone. “What the fuck.” Steve exclaimed, successfully grabbing the attention of the two lovebirds. “Did Captain Righteous just swear? I did it! I finally got Cap to swear!” she exclaimed, throwing her head back in boisterous laughter. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh with you, watching everyone just stare at you. He knew they were absolutely caught off guard. Just yesterday she was calling him all sorts of crude names, but now, here she was sitting in his lap kissing him. As she joked and laughed with everyone else, slowly bringing everyone back to reality, Bucky was overwhelmed with love for her, his own Badass Ballerina.

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Everything List: @rick-morty-reblogs @myattemptatfanfic @feelmyroarrrr

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #marvel #x reader #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #Tony Stark #clint barton #thor #Sam Wilson

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peachmused · 6 years

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READ ON AO3 // SUMMARY // CHAPTER ONE / CHAPTER TWO

cg credit - i wanted to write a fic where the mc doesn’t wake up in a life-threatening situation for once (see: the entirety of the diabolik lovers series), so here’s a lighter fic! i’m not sure if i’ll name mc just yet or keep her as the reader (if that makes any sense), but she’s definitely got her own personality and life that’s entirely different from yui’s. anyways, i started writing this fic for fun but now it’s really growing onto me. hope you enjoy reading, and feel free to leave comments! please be nice

Tulip bulbs, daffodil seeds, orchid seeds, and gloves.

Four, simple items. Yet within seconds, I found myself undoubtedly lost among the endless rows of plastic packets and multitude of fragrances. Appliances of various shapes and sizes lined the aisle just opposite the flower, fruit, and vegetable seeds. My hand would wander to one pair of gloves, then immediately reach for another. Which one did Grandma use, again? The ones that had little rubber stubs, or the ones that were completely smooth? The larger ones, or the more fitted ones?

Eventually, I grabbed what I thought best and turned to the countless seed packets and bulbs. There were so many brands to choose from within the selection that I decided to stick with “Easy Greens” and move on from there. Brushing my finger against each row as I searched for the items felt both unfamiliar and increasingly awkward. Of course, there was no legitimate reason to be so conscious of how supposedly dumb I appeared, my mouth ajar and my eyes blinking at the labels. But as soon as another body stepped into the same aisle, my shoulders tensed and I shifted in place.

I’m not a plant expert, okay? I justified inwardly to the supposed disapproving stranger.

Briskly, I tossed the orchid seeds and tulip bulbs into the cart. That only left…

“Daffodil seeds!” I gasped, a wave of relief swelling up within me. Normally I couldn’t shop in the Gardening section for the life of me, but this time, the daffodil seeds were hanging conveniently above me. It was the last packet in the shelf, so I made haste in reaching for it.

Just as my fingers grazed the plastic packaging, another (immensely larger) hand gripped the other end of the bag. I raised my head to face my opponent, then… tilted my head further upwards. A broad-shouldered man loomed above me, his tousled mane tied back in a half-ponytail. The sleeves of his sweater had slid down to reveal brawny arms, ones at least twice the size of mine.

Although his narrowed, angular eyes should have made me stumble backwards, my grip only tightened on the packet. Grandma’s garden was just ready to be planted, and if I missed the opportunity to snag these now, I would either have to run to another grocer or return tomorrow. With my school transfer just around the corner, I hadn’t the time nor the energy to make a second trip.

Resolute, I titled my chin upwards, and stared the stranger down. The corner of his lips twitched slightly, his body inching towards mine.

“I’d let go if I were you, kid,” he advised, his gaze unwavering.

‘Kid?’ You don’t look all that old either, Mister! I wanted to holler, but immediately suppressed the urge. Instead, I relaxed into the most artificial smile of the century, and yanked the packet towards me.

“Excuse me,” I retorted, “but I’ve had my eye on this for a while. And I’m pretty sure I grabbed it first.”

A scoff. Then, the man wrenched the packet towards himself. Holding onto the packet as best as I could, I attempted to dig my feet into the smooth flooring to prevent any stumbling.

“And I’m sure I grabbed it first, lady.” he growled. Although he was a giant compared to me, the brunet was slowly revealing a boyish, competitive nature. Tension grappled the two of us as we fought over the packet, with him yanking the packet in all directions and my body soon following.

In a matter of minutes, the hushed argument became a turbulent one. “Let… go…!” I demanded through breaths. Teeth clenched, the man only persisted in his attempts to snatch the package.

“Tch… this… woman!” he yelled back, struggling to push my arms away.

At this point, our scuffle had gotten the attention of the store clerk, who was bouncing in between us with his sweaty forehead. The clerk mumbled something along the lines of “Please, don’t fight in here…”, but with our glares stuck on one another, we only shouted, “Shut up!” right back.

“Ohhh my God…” the clerk fumbled about, his circular glasses nearly dropping off the edge of his nose. “This is my first time dealing with a Code Red… Oh wow…”

We were so caught up in our tussle that the presence of another being didn’t occur to either of us.

“What’s going on here?” a gentle, feminine voice inquired. I, of course, was desperately biting on the packet and barely noticed the girl peeking into the aisle.

“Miss, you don’t want to go in there—It’s a real World War situation down in Aisle Four…”

“Yuma!” she interjected, the items in her hand falling, one by one. The larger man paused mid-headlock, his eyes widening as soon as they landed on the petite figure. He glanced down at me, then at the girl, then back down at me again. I, too, gaped at the girl before us.

With soft, golden curls and doll-like features, she was absolutely stunning. I felt the grip around my head loosen, and I quickly took the packet out of my mouth. ‘Yuma’, as he was called, had his brows knitted, his stare fixated on the packet of seeds.

“Let’s go, Yuma, we don’t have time for this,” she urged, approaching the two of us. Her gaze flitted to me. “You can have the packet, Miss… I’m so sorry for the trouble he caused!”

I only nodded, heat rising up my neck at the thought of my feral appearance just seconds ago. Yet there she stood, graceful, collected, and calm. In this moment, she was everything I was not, yet looked around the same age as me. To think that I had to be seen… like that…

Despite the rouge entering my cheeks, I broke into as best of a smile as I could. As soon as she turned to leave, however, most of the embarrassment evaporated. It was just me and the beast once more, but this time, I’d emerged victorious. With overflowing triumph, I watched as Yuma glowered down at me one last time.

“If you ever show up in front of me again,” he warned, his face edging close to mine, “You’re really going to pay.”

Shoulders relaxing, I broke into a grin, and nodded cheekily. He ended the conversation with the click of his tongue, stuffing his hands into his pockets before stomping away. Just as his back faced me, I wagged my own tongue, relishing the moment. I then lifted the prize in my hands to examine it. Fortunately, the package was still intact, save for the few teeth marks I’d punctured into the plastic. If it weren’t for the girl’s intervention, the packet would have ripped open and all would have been for naught.

This girl obviously had some sort of influence on him, and I thanked the heavens that she had appeared when she did. I couldn’t help but assume that she was his girlfriend; the way he listened to her so obediently… that had to be it, right? Regardless, it was a wonder that such a soft-spoken person even affiliated herself with him. From his grizzly appearance to his uncouth mannerisms, he was the exact opposite of everything sugary sweet. In fact, Yuma was much like a grumpy bear, storming about and creating messes.

An image of a Grizzly head on top of Yuma’s body entered my mind as I made my way to the cashier. I couldn’t help but snort.

Definitely a bear.

“Love Fortune Cookie! The future ain't that bad... Hey! Hey! Hey!” I hummed, an extra bounce in my step as I made my way down the paved streets. The air around me was honeysuckle sweet, its warmth hugging my body. Fellow pedestrians scattered throughout the wide road left me with a sense of comfort and security, the sun slowly slipping below the horizon. Splashes of tangerine, rose, and dandelion hues blanketed the sky, turning shades darker the closer I got to home.

Juggling bags of groceries in my hands, I poked my head up behind the bundle and spotted the familiar enclosure. It wasn’t long after I passed through the door and placed the bags down that my grandmother emerged from the living room.

“I’m back,” I announced, dusting my hands off. Grandma gifted me one of her tender smiles, and welcomed me back home. Simply the curl of her lips could make me feel ease; she had a healing presence, much like a guardian. That day she wore another knitted cardigan atop a flowery dress, the signature look for most gentlewomen her age. When she came closer to help with organizing the groceries, I could smell the light lavender from her grey and brown hairs. As expected, she was working outside again.

I raised my brows and verified, “Grandma, you were in the garden again, weren’t you?”

Eyes lighting up, she nodded. “I was making space for the new plants you brought me.” she explained, lifting up the punctured bag of daffodil seeds and blinking at it seconds later.

“What happened here?”

“Ah… that’s…” I mumbled. My lips scrunched in thought, when it finally hit me, “A bear! Right, a nasty bear was trying to take your daffodil seeds, but I managed to save them just in time. Aren’t I amazing?”

Seeing me wiggle my brows at her, my grandmother broke into a hearty laugh. “Of course you are. Now, if you’re done fighting off bears, will you please help me plant the seeds?”

After burying the seeds in dirt (as well as learning that the gloves I bought were the wrong brand), I headed inside to prepare tea for the two of us. She liked hers herbal and sugar-free, while I enjoyed Earl Grey with just the right touch of sugar and milk. Seated on the veranda, we sipped our drinks in the cool night air. The singing of crickets kept us company as we lounged under the moonlight.

“They’ll look so beautiful when they blossom…” I murmured, already picturing the flowery scape. Though I had no interest in gardening and only helped for Grandma’s sake, witnessing the flowers and fruits paint the tiny yard was a magical experience.

“I think so too,” Grandma chimed, sipping her tea.

She then turned to look at me. “Ah, what about school?”

Nodding, I lowered the cup in my hands. “Everything’s been processed, so I can start attending tomorrow.”

“That’s a relief.” she relaxed, then just as quickly tensed, “Oh, what about your uniform? And your lunch?”

My hands rested atop hers as I assured that I was all set for my first day at Ryoutei Academy. It was a night school, which was a huge change for us, but a necessary one.

Classes were from five to ten to accommodate those working during the daytime, and I happened to be one of those people. I was set to learn management as a supervisor for Kanna Inn—my grandpa’s inn—during regular school hours. My father never showed an interest in taking over the place, but I found management to be my strong point and accepted the proposition. Evidently, the inn was closest to my grandparents’ house, and I volunteered to stay there for the remainder of my school life.

Considering that this town was only a bus ride away from my old home, paired with the fact that I only had one year left of high school, I decided that focusing on my career from now wasn’t going to hurt anybody. My hometown friends and parents were only forty-five minutes away, and the area itself was just the quaint space I adored. The only thing troubling me was my nine p.m. class. By nine and onward, my concentration dwindled, and I could already picture myself nodding off instead of taking notes.

Whatever my worries were, the fact that I was going to be sporting a new uniform and attending evening classes was inevitable. A small smile crept its way up my face at the thought of a new school life. New faces to befriend, new halls to explore, new teachers to learn from... Everything would be unfamiliar. Yet, that very fact was what made my heart race, what made me want to shout out in joy. Perhaps it was the surge of caffeine from the tea, perhaps it was simply excitement; whatever the reason, my thoughts of Ryoutei High shined brighter than the star-speckled sky above us.

Later that night, Grandpa arrived home with goodies in his arms. He prepared meat for us, claiming that tonight we’d celebrate my acceptance into Ryoutei. I, of course, made no complaints. Once our bellies were filled to the brim, I wished my grandparents a good night, video chatted with my parents, and washed up for the evening.

I curled into the blankets, realizing that this bed would come to be my new hideout. The pillows felt just like I remembered them: pleasant and comforting, much like the owners of this house. My eyes flitted across the moderately decorated room, envisioning all the cute additions I would add to make it feel like my own. Although there wasn’t much as of that night, the space felt familiar—like it was waiting for my presence.

As the hours passed and my eyelids fluttered shut, I fell asleep knowing that, for once, I’d made the right decision.

#yuma mukami #dialovers #diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers fanfic #yuma mukami fic #*#fic: heavens kiss #honestly i think mc might be turning into an original character #as much as i hate ocs in fics i have to admit it ;;#i'll keep mc nameless for as long as possible though bc i love the idea of imagining yourself as the main character

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utsus · 7 years

Text

SasuHina Day 11: Kimono (AO3)

Uchiha Sasuke had a secret.

It wasn’t anything groundbreaking or shocking, really, but it was private and it was his and as such, he coveted it closely. The only people who knew about it were his teammates and his sensei, of which he had grown up with and spent many, many early mornings training with.

He liked to watch the sun rise over the mountains.

He wasn’t sure if he’d call it a hobby, per say, but he enjoyed it. Years ago he’d gone out into the forest outside of Konoha’s gates, found the highest and most secure network of branches as high in the Konoha canopies that he could trust, and it was there that he built himself a home. He’d spent two summers getting it right—using his hands to build, for once, rather than to destroy.

Naruto liked to make fun of him, ask him frequently if he thought he was a monkey. Sakura would laugh, too, and say instead, “Not a monkey, but a bird.”

He wouldn’t mind the ability to fly—he was fast enough that he nearly could—and birds had beautiful voices. They were surefire and carefree; they wanted to sing, so they did. He admired that.

So he spent as many mornings as he could there, up in the trees, where the sunlight first touched his world. He watched the molten waves of gold and rose rise over the sky and transform the air into something light and tranquil.

The first summer after he built himself a space into the canopies was the first summer he assented to attend the summer festival with his girlfriend. He didn’t care much for the show of it—something about the sheer number of families packed so close made him uneasy.

But, like every year before, Hinata had asked him if he’d like to join her. She did so gently, as was her way; she didn’t pester or push or judge. She came to him in the morning with fruits and vegetables freshly plucked from her garden and washed them in his kitchen. The dirt on their skins ran down the edges of his unblemished sink. Hinata’s hair had been tied back.

“Sasuke-san,” she said, with that infuriating courtesy of hers. Her nape had been exposed. “As you know, the summer festival begins tomorrow. If you’d like to join me this year, I will be leaving early tomorrow evening.”

Sasuke had said nothing, only watched the way she worked, comfortable in his home. It had taken her some time to gain that comfort, here so far behind the Uchiha gates, in the skeleton remains of his clan’s compound. The corner of his lips twisted, amusement playing in the corners of his eyes.

As if she’d senses his humor, she glanced over her shoulder and mirrored his expression with an added air of wariness.

“Why are you laughing?”

He loved her. It was simple, and effortless, and he loved her.

“Memories,” he’d said vaguely, charmed when her cheeks flushed even as she rolled her eyes and turned back to the produce she’d brought him. Even after years of courting her, he found her personality and reactions refreshing and so very easy to love. “Are you meeting up with your team?”

Hinata shook her head. “Not this year. I’m giving them privacy.”

Sasuke nodded slowly, contemplating. He had been mildly surprised to hear that Hinata’s two strange teammates had recently become an item themselves. The bug user was endlessly silent and contemplative, the complete opposite to the dog-loving tracker. From what Hinata told him, though, they made an oddly beautiful kind of sense.

He watched Hinata scrub and set aside various fruits, and all the while he considered her wording. Privacy. She was a good friend, thoughtful and kind. There was no meaning hidden beneath her words—she wasn’t attempting to persuade him in any way.

But the word privacy festered in his mind. He wasn’t one to ignore a chance to have alone time with Hinata, regardless of the circumstances, and she had come to know it. Still, her wording did not seem manipulative and he knew her well enough to know it dependably.

He thought about the atmosphere of a festival, especially one as lively as one during summer, and his lip nearly curled. Despite his efforts to remain calm and his proclivity for privacy, he had shared his discomfort with the topic of families with Hinata early on in their relationship. He’d wanted her to know what she was agreeing to—who she was agreeing to.

He was a patchwork of jagged glasswork still slowly being put back together, his hands scarred but still reaching for the pieces. When he thought of family, he thought of loss, of blood, of betrayal. It took him noticeable time to think, instead, of teammates. Of Hinata loving him so gently, so kindly, despite all of his misgivings.

He stood silently and went to her. His hands slid around her, his chin resting in the dip of her neck. He watched with heavy eyes and an equally heavy heart as her hands worked, the slight rigidity of her surprise seeping out of her in moments. She rested back against him and together they watched the water pour over her scarred fingers, over the red skins of strawberries.

Sasuke turned his head until his lips ghosted over her skin, her nervous pulse.

He said, “I will think about it.”

And Hinata turned to him, pressing her forehead to his temple. He could feel her eyelashes on his skin, ghosting over his cheekbones.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and her unfailing gentleness overwhelmed him, just as it had the very first time he realized she loved him. She had a way of making him feel spiritual, as though the way she loved him so tenderly could rekindle in him a kind of faith he’d long since lost.

Sometimes, when she looked at him, he felt the urge to drop to his knees.

It had been years since she confessed to him—and years longer even than that, that he had been confessing to her. Three years he had spent courting her in his own way, culminating in a moment of utmost intimacy: Hinata willing and kind in his arms, and his lips at her ear.

I am yours, he had whispered, body and soul.

He thought of what it meant to build a home, thought of the one he had built in the canopies, and he thought of this: Hinata in his arms, pressing back against him, welcoming everything that he was.

And this, too, he could call home.

✧

He did not sleep that night.

Discomfort had always been too mild a word for what he felt about family. The medic in Sakura had diagnosed him immediately and carefully with post-traumatic stress disorder, and he had only nodded. He had known all along.

The thing about PTSD was that it came and went at its own leisure. There were no walls that his trauma could not break down and break through. It showed up constantly in his dreams, turned them to nightmares in just the same way that fire turns everything to ash.

He still struggled to sleep at night, even with Hinata at his side. For a while, she was a cure; her warmth and her curves became a familiar swatch of comfort and peace that somehow settled the chaos of his mind, the racing of his heart. But his trauma broke through that slight protection, too, and Sasuke began to live in fear.

Sometimes he woke swinging; sometimes he woke breathing fire. He struggled with keeping blades in his room for protection or removing them for her protection, and subsided only when she comforted him. She told him to keep the blades. She told him she would stay, it was okay, she would stay.

She stayed. Despite the frequency of his episodes waking both of them throughout the night. Despite his icy stoicism after he fully woke from his nightmares, uncomfortable showing that kind of vulnerability to anyone, even the woman he loved. She stayed through it all, her hands a constant on his skin, in his hair, soothing everywhere they touched.

He didn’t deserve her.

She wanted to go to the summer festival. He knew, despite her never once pressuring him, that she wanted to go as a couple. Their relationship was no secret in the village, but this was the kind of thing that couples did. They had fun together in the nightlife of the land they protect, with the people they protect. They played games together and won each other prizes. They held hands and suffered the catcalls of their friends. They watched fireworks light up the evening sky.

The last festival he’d been to had been with—

He did not sleep that night. His thoughts raced and by the time he got dressed and headed out into the forest to climb into the canopy, there were lines of exhaustion over his face. They made him look like—

He watched the sun rise over the mountains. The birds called out, trilling. Sometimes, when Sasuke was feeling especially hopeful, he thought the birds were singing to him.

The sun rose over the mountains in slow-inching waves of liquefied gold. Sasuke felt the morning air, slightly chilly, slide over his nape and collarbones. He leaned against the bark and let his leg dangle in the air, kicking slightly. His heart was a drum complementing the singsong of wildlife around him.

Tonight was the summer festival’s opening evening. Hinata would be wearing a kimono, ornaments in her hair. She would be glowing, he thought, shining brighter than any other. The gentleness that came despite the violence of their world, it shone from within, bright and immeasurable.

Sasuke inhaled deeply, exhaled deeper. His heart began to change, to race as his thoughts finally began to settle. He had come to a decision, and though he might fear the unknown of the future, he would go through with it.

After all, he thought with affection, Hinata would be there with him.

The birds chirped, flashes of crimson and cobalt flashing in his periphery. His heartbeat plateaued, settled, began to fall back to normalcy. He reminded himself of Hinata’s patience, of the way she had opened up to him gradually, beautifully, a strangely astonishing flower that opened to moonlight despite knowing sunlight would be healthier.

The sun rose slowly over the mountains, reaching, reaching. The birds continued to sing around him; symphony of the evergreens. Somewhere in the safety of the village, Hinata slept peacefully.

Sasuke closed his eyes and let the sunlight bathe his face in morning gold, kissing each of his features with the gentlest warmth.

And then, quietly, he began to whistle.

✧

Sasuke’s secret was that he loved to watch the sun rise over the mountains. There was nothing so peaceful, so stunning, as the slow rise of dawn; the graceful spill of spring colors, every shade of lavender and rosen pastel; the way the sun turned every skyward-facing leaf a breathtaking shade of gold.

The memory of the morning sunrise was lost to him the moment she walked through the gates; she outshone it all.

Sasuke shifted, surprisingly self-conscious in his pristine navy hakama. Hinata didn’t show any expression of surprise—the moment she saw him her eyes became alight with excitement, with wonder. Her smile could’ve brought him to his knees.

“Sasuke,” she breathed, a reward and a marvel. She swept across the street to him with silent steps, the most striking wraith he’d ever encountered. Her kimono was the softest shade of rose, nearly pearl, with beautifully lined flowers sewn silken into the fabric. Her obi was a stark burgundy, with golden leaves the exact shade of his favorite sunrise etched in.

Her hair was pulled back in an elegant, twisted chignon. A single ornament clinked from her hair; a moon.

Sasuke went to her unconsciously, meeting her halfway.

You’re beautiful, he thought, pressing his lips to her temple. He felt her quiet laughter, a bubble of joy that escaped her at his presence, and his heart thudded heavily against his ribs. Regardless of what happened tonight, he had made the right choice. To have heard his name and only his name in her voice, to have felt her candid joy in this moment as his arms wound around her—it was all worth it.

She pulled back to look up at him through her eyelashes, blatantly affectionate, and Sasuke couldn’t help but to move even closer. He dipped low and pressed their lips together, tasting the fruity gloss she had there with a smile. He tasted her gasp of surprise and pulled her in closer by the dip of her back, feeling for all of her curves, the wide flare of her hips hidden under heavy fabric. He traced the edges of her teeth with his tongue and pulled playfully at her bottom lip before pulling back to see the damage he’d caused.

He caught it in her eyes, unfocused and heavy-lidded; her cheeks overturned palettes of rose.

“Hello, Hinata,” he greeted her cheekily, despite the fear that still sat below the surface.

“Hello,” she returned breathily, which only managed to embarrass her further. She pushed at him playfully, her hands against his chest. When he didn’t budge, he savored the chime of her laughter, the breathless sincerity of it. And then, because he was feeling especially self-indulgent, he bent to taste it.

This time, however, Hinata successfully pulled back from him, though not before allowing and encouraging another passionate kiss. She blinked up at him, laughter still playing over her features, and lifted her thumb to carefully wipe at his lower lip.

“Strawberry,” he said, smirking. Amusement wound around her as she took two measured steps back, clearing her throat as she noticed they had a passing audience. An elderly couple eyed them and Hinata bowed for them respectfully, gesturing for Sasuke to do the same.

Hinata turned back to him with blatant exasperation, reaching out carefully to grasp his elbow in her hand. She guided him to her side, but before moving towards the festival she glanced up at him and the falling sun managed to get caught in her eyelashes.

“I’m glad that you came,” she told him, ever gentle. Her expression shifted, protective and concerned. She reached up to his face, slow enough that he could stop her if he wanted—he didn’t. She traced the new lines on his face, carved there from fatigue, and worried her lower lip between her teeth.

“You look exhausted,” she said, eyebrows dipping uneasily.

Sasuke studied her for a long moment, memorizing her features again and again just because he could.

“I did not sleep well,” he said, deciding on a half-truth. He didn’t want her to worry. He should’ve known she’d see right through him.

“You mean at all,” she scolded, her tone too gentle to do any damage. Sasuke leaned down and pressed his forehead to her temple, needing her closeness, the fresh smell of something soothing on her skin.

“I mean at all,” he conceded, his voice barely audible. He closed his eyes, heard her sigh against him. One hand came up to trail her fingers through his hair from his ear to his nape. She gripped him there, just enough to ground him, and allowed him to stay pressed against her for a moment longer. When she carefully urged him away again, she lifted onto her toes and kissed the backs of his eyelids, feather light against his skin.

“Tonight,” she began cautiously, knowing this topic was at times a field of landmines, “May I come over?”

If Sasuke’s eyes had been open, he would’ve rolled them. Instead, his expression merely dropped, his lips frowning. “Of course,” he said, as if it was the silliest thing he’d ever heard, and he couldn’t believe he had to verbally sanction it. He opened his eyes and caught her smile, a ghost of the true depths of her compassion, all for him.

“Thank you,” she said, and that was frustrating, too. It was a sentiment he revisited often: he did not deserve her. “Let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?”

Sasuke nodded, studying the way Hinata’s gaze hardened, steadfast.

“Promise?” She demanded, very nearly putting her hands on her hips. Sasuke reached for her wrist, slid his fingers over the skin there, and intertwined their fingers together. When Hinata’s eyes dropped to follow the movement, he said, “I promise.”

Her eyes leapt back to his, studying his sincerity. After a moment she nodded, softening under his unwavering gaze once more. She began to guide them towards the festival, which was already loud enough that they could hear it through the streets and over the rooftops. Music played and laughter joined it, and Sasuke’s heart clenched in his chest. He could do this.

“You look very handsome,” Hinata whispered when they were only a few turns away from the festival, not looking at him. There was something about her tone that sounded wary; it had Sasuke glancing at her profile with veiled amusement, squeezing her fingers.

“Are you worried?”

She pursed her lips, still not looking at him.

“A little,” she finally admitted, turning up to him with a shy smile. “I’m going to be busy tonight, trying to convince everyone caught by your beauty that you’re already taken.”

Sasuke frowned at her wording, even as he silently found it charming. He had a reputation to uphold, however, so instead of leaning down and kissing her cheek for the compliment as he wished to, he playfully chided her.

“I’m not beautiful,” he grunted quietly, as the street ahead of them came into view. The sky was dark enough that the multitude of lights throughout the streets were already blazing bright, nearly neon. The atmosphere was alive with joy and celebration, so much so that even the buildings and vendors seemed to become sentient.

“You are,” Hinata argued, as she smiled at the front vendors who welcomed them. “Tonight especially.”

“Whatever,” Sasuke griped, before his eyes suddenly gleamed. He watched Hinata for her reaction as he said, “Good thing I chose a companion to whom I pale in comparison, then.”

Just as he’d intended and expected, her cheeks flared with heat. She didn’t look up at him, only huffed a quiet, “Oh, please.”

Feeling light and happier than he had ever expected in such an atmosphere, he continued with that same playful air. His words were still staccato, his normal tone with barely any change, his expression apathetic to the untrained eye. But Hinata could read him like an open book, and when she glanced up to him she immediately saw the amusement in his eyes, and the way it made them shine.

“I don’t like to share,” he warned her sternly. “I won’t tolerate intrusions.”

Hinata could hear the truth of the sentiment under the humor, but even still she rolled her eyes.

“No one is going to intrude upon anything,” she responded. “Naruto-kun cannot attend due to Hokage business, and Sakura-chan is on a mission.”

Sasuke couldn’t contradict her on that—if anyone would be brave enough or daft enough to intrude upon their space, it would be one of his teammates. However, his mind caught on Hinata’s knowledge of Naruto’s whereabouts suspiciously. It was no secret that she had loved Naruto when they were kids and Sasuke had betrayed the village. It was also no secret that she had given up on the whiskered hero, serving only as a good friend of his and one of his closest advisors as Hyuuga Clan head.

Still, it stung that she had ever loved someone else—and someone so completely different from himself.

He felt a muscle in his cheek twitch, his lips dropping into a frown. There were still lines of exhaustion on his face, probably extenuated with this expression, but he couldn’t help his mild irritation.

Hinata, however, nipped his suspicion in the bud before he could even let it grow.

“As the head of the Clan,” she began calmly, glancing up at him with something of her own kind of humor in her eyes. “It is my duty to meet with the Hokage regularly. A business relationship.”

Sasuke grunted, his pride forbidding him from pestering further, since she clearly knew what he was on about. He gripped her hand tighter and pulled gently in the direction of the street, his eyes trailing from vendor to vendor. He silently mapped all of their potential exits, the quickest and safest ways to secure Hinata’s protection. He studied the body language of everyone they passed, watched their expressions for any signs of hostility. This was something he could do; as a soldier, a warrior, one of the very best.

It didn’t hurt that it distracted him from the children that ran by with their parents in tow; the pair of brothers at the vendor to their right trying to win a goldfish by throwing tiny balls into tiny pots. Hinata’s thumb trailed over his hand in soothing lines.

Sasuke ignored the racing of his heart, which pumped with equal parts fear and resolve, and with Hinata at his side he tried to keep himself together.

He was stronger than his trauma.

And stronger still, with Hinata’s support.

✧

All things considered, the night went well. Sasuke’s demons stayed hushed but remained present in his mind, in the heaviness of his heart, but he enjoyed himself. He was naturally good at the vendor games and won Hinata several items she didn’t need, just to show that he could—and she won him several, too, though he was actually quite fond of the ceramic cat she’d won him by shooting a bow and arrow into five consecutive moving targets.

Perfect bullseyes, with her kimono sleeves pushed up.

He’d taken her for a detour into a back alley afterwards to properly show his appreciation, and by the time they made it back onto the street the moon was overhead and Hinata’s hair was a little more tousled than it had been prior. Hidden under the collar of her kimono was a mark on her collarbone, new and still slightly swollen; deliberately out of view.

Even though he had planned it perfectly and it was, in fact, out of view, Hinata self-consciously adjusted her kimono all throughout the night. Sasuke was amused by this and received a gentle reprimanding smack to the bicep when he allowed his smirk to grow wide enough to show teeth.

“Barbarian,” Hinata teased him, and Sasuke couldn’t help but to stare. She was so beautiful, and she was his. There wasn’t a day that passed that he did not marvel over this fact. He had spent years of uncertainty attempting to win her heart, to prove that he would love her tenderly. And amazingly, she had believed him—trusted him. He wanted to show her every day that she had made the right choice, that he was good for her, better for her than anyone else.

Possessiveness came naturally to him, and though Hinata sometimes reined him in, he had discovered her embarrassed partiality to the trait about a year into their relationship.

“Sasuke,” she called quietly, regaining his attention. He’d been staring blankly at a dango vendor, sidetracked with memories—first bad, so bad, because he had always loved dango and then overcome with good when he shook them off and thought of the time when he and Sakura had pinned Kakashi after he’d refused to share his dango with them after a mission.

Sasuke turned to Hinata with residual feelings of joy caught in his chest, thanks to surprisingly fond memories.

Hinata was smiling, unreservedly content. Even hours into the festival, she still appeared as radiant as the first moment he’d seen her walk through the gates of her compound, putting the sunrise to shame. He knew her secret—the gentleness of her affection coupled with her kindhearted nature, the perfect recipe for her specific kind of glow.

Sasuke reached out to her and she folded into him immediately, encompassed in his hold.

Against his chest she asked, “Where should we go to watch the fireworks?”

Sasuke considered that, for a moment.

“Where do they usually fire them?”

Hinata pointed in a general direction, then up into the night sky. Sasuke considered the trajectory for only a moment, before he reached for Hinata’s hand.

“How much time do we have?”

Hinata pursed her lips, curious and suspicious. “Not much.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to do here?” He asked, gesturing towards the festival street, which had begun to gradually clear as people headed for the best spots to see the fireworks. Hinata adjusted her bag of spoils against her hip and shook her head even as she gazed up at him wonderingly.

Sasuke smiled. He reached down and lifted her into his arms, uncaring of the way she quietly sputtered or the glances they received. He was quicker than she was, and they didn’t have much time.

“Hold tight,” he warned her, and only after he felt her grasp on him strengthen did he move.

One moment they were standing there in the middle of the well-light street, surrounded by families and couples celebrating the coming of summer. And then, they were gone.

Sasuke headed for the trees.

✧

Hinata did not question his course, not even when it led them outside of Konoha’s gates, or into the thick of the forest. She held tight, as he’d asked her to, and he felt the way she laid her head against him contentedly. She hummed curiously when he began to climb the trees, leaping from branch to branch until he landed on familiar space.

He allowed Hinata’s feet to drop down, find purchase on the bark. He had never brought her here before, though he knew that she knew he spent his mornings in the forest, alone. It had always been a place just for him, peaceful in its total solitude.

But she had helped him to conquer his fears during the festival, loosened him up enough that he’d even played games. He had not had a single panic attack. She had been there for him through it all.

So he brought her to this special place, allowed her to share it with him, and when he turned to her he could see in her eyes that she understood. She didn’t voice it, this time, but he could hear the words clearly in the softness of her grateful expression.

Thank you.

He sat in his usual spot and gently tugged at her hand until she sat beside him, but that wasn’t close enough. He lifted her easily, pulled her into his lap, and ignored the way she made excuses about her weight, about making him uncomfortable. He wrapped his arm around her and gently ran his fingers through her hair, guiding her to rest against his neck.

They looked out over the seemingly endless expanse of canopies before them, through the gap Sasuke always watched the sun rise through. In seconds, the first whistling trail of a far off firework sounded, and together they watched the night sky come alive with colored flames in various intricate shapes.

Hinata settled in against him eventually, wrapping her right arm around the back of his neck, and Sasuke hugged her as close as he could. He didn’t care if he was clinging. Most of the time in this life he felt like he was clinging to something—just barely holding on.

There was nothing in the world so grounding as being loved unconditionally, and loving just so in return.

“Thank you,” Sasuke whispered amongst the explosions of light, pressing his lips to the hinge of Hinata’s jaw, her neck. She turned to him and Sasuke paid no attention to the fireworks going off behind her.

Instead, he watched the way her eyes caught the light and held it with honest affection, and bridled desire. He gazed up at her and hoped she understood the many facets of his graciousness, that it was meant for so much more than just this single night.

When she leaned forward and kissed him, gentle enough to shake his heart, he knew that she understood completely.

She said, “I love you, now and forever,” pressing the words against his lips, making him tremble. “You are mine, as I am yours.”

This time, he voiced it: “I do not deserve you.”

Hinata pulled back enough to let him see her expression, the certainty of her love carved into the kindness of her features. She gripped his face in her hands, her gaze unwavering.

“You deserve to be loved, and you are,” she promised, and it was a return welcoming, the same feeling all over again, a blessing and a rescue. “You are.”

She pressed her forehead to his, and both of them closed their eyes. They sat there, high above the rest of the world in the safe haven he’d built for himself and chosen to share with her, as close as two bodies and hearts could get, as the night sky came alive in front of them.

With Hinata there, loving him and being loved by him, everything in his past seemed to fall to the wayside; ever present, but muted. The shadows in him, extinguished by the light in her.

And maybe it was true, what she said about loving and deserving love.

Maybe they just had to do that part together.

And that, he thought, was something to look forward to.

#naruto #sasuhina #sasuhina month #uchiha sasuke #hyuuga hinata #sasuke uchiha #hinata hyuuga #naruto fic #not to sound like a broken record but this got away from me lmao uhhh all that ptsd stuff has been on my mind lately??#it's a really important subject to discuss and learn about and understand and i don't ever want to trivialize it #i didn't want to make this story any longer than it already is so i didnt go super in depth but please know i respect it!#and i hope i wrote it ok without going further into exploring it/explaining it

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flowerfan2 · 7 years

Text

Close to You - Ch. 6/11

Stucky, M, 21k so far, A03

Although Steve and Bucky are finally in the same place, they aren’t as close as they would like. And Steve’s having trouble being close to anyone.

(This fic is 100% complete, and will post at least 2x week).

Chapter 6

The next morning, when Steve’s at a therapy session, Bucky calls Tony. It’s weird calling him when he’s probably in the building somewhere, but Bucky doesn’t want to get drawn into playing a video game or let Tony poke around in his arm. Before they can finish their conversation, however, Tony has to get off the phone, and Bucky can’t tell if there’s really an important meeting Tony is late for or if he’s just blowing him off.

He spends the afternoon shooting with Clint, each of them trading off different weapons and challenging each other to make ever increasingly ridiculous shots. Bucky’s favorite is when Clint hangs upside down from the climbing wall and shoots arrows in the eye of the lizard robot targets (which slink terrifyingly across the floor), and Bucky amuses himself by trying to knock Clint down before he can take out all the lizards.

When Bucky gets back to the apartment, Steve is in mission mode, throwing clothes into his duffel and giving Bucky a stern look.

“Where’ve you been? Didn’t you get Coulson’s message? Wheels up in less than an hour.”

Steve fills him in while Bucky packs, grabbing the bow and arrows Clint urged him to try. Steve just shakes his head and grabs his shield, and they make their way up to the roof.

Coulson’s flying the helicopter, and he gives Steve and Bucky a curt nod as they climb in. Bucky leans back against the seat, half hoping to get in a short nap before they land, but Steve is looking over Coulson’s shoulder out the front window, engaged and interested with the process for a while. After half an hour or so, Steve gets antsy, and slides himself up into the co-pilot seat.

“Um, sir? This heading… I thought we were going to Detroit?”

Coulson gives Steve a mild look. “Change in plans.”

Steve fidgets, obviously torn between wanting more information and not wanting to piss off Coulson. “Sir, if there’s anything we should know, to be prepared for the operation-”

“Relax, Captain. There’ll be time for a full briefing when we arrive.”

Bucky is fairly certain Coulson is up to something, but it only cements his desire to get some sleep now, while he can. If the op is too bizarre to tell Steve about before they get there, it’s likely to need his full attention once they’re on the ground.

*****

Bucky jolts awake when the helicopter sets down. He climbs out behind Steve, still a little dazed from his nap, and blinks hard. They’re in a small clearing, pine trees all around, the scent of the forest deep and calming.

“Steve?” Bucky asks as they trail after Coulson. “Where the hell are we?”

Coulson turns and gives them his mildest smile. “Right where you wanted to be, Sergeant.”

They climb over a ridge and are met with a spectacular view - a rustic looking two story house with a porch running around three sides, on the edge of a lake that’s sparkling in the setting sun.

“Bucky?” Steve asks. “What’s going on?”

Tony, you amazing bastard, Bucky thinks.

“You look surprised, Sergeant,” Coulson says, the edge of his mouth quirking up. “Tony led me to believe this was your plan.”

“What – what was your plan?” Steve says, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“I may have asked Tony if he had somewhere we could go to take a break,” Bucky says, remembering the conversation with Tony that had been so abruptly cut off.

“A break?” Steve looks like he’s about to have a stroke.

“A vacation. You know, some time off.”

“I can’t-”

“It’s already been approved,” Coulson says. “But it’s not a vacation.”

Bucky stiffens. “It’s not gonna work if you’re flying him back and forth all the time to run ops.”

Coulson gives Bucky a measured look that smacks of an eye roll. “It’s a leave of absence. I’m thinking two months, maybe three. Depending on how you feel, Steve.”

“Agent, sir, I can’t-” Steve breaks off, looks at Bucky plaintively. “Tell him, Buck, I can’t just quit. It’s not right. I would never-”

“Hey, hang on,” Bucky says. He steps closer to Steve but doesn’t touch him, he’s too close to the edge for that. “I didn’t mean to spring this on you, I swear I didn’t. But I think you should give it a try. Even just for a few weeks, then you can decide how long you want to stay.”

Steve’s hands are clenched into fists, and he is looking over Bucky’s shoulder, not meeting his eyes.

“Stevie?” Bucky speaks softly, waits for Steve to focus on him. “This could be a really good thing for you. For us.”

Steve looks around, taking it in, and draws in a deep breath. Bucky thinks he can see the fight drain out of him, a look something like hope crossing his face.

“It’s pretty quiet here, huh?”

Bucky nods. “Seems to be.”

“No one within thirty miles,” Coulson interjects. “Pretty big mountains to the west, at least for New England. Stark security systems, access by air only, or maybe motorcycle if you’re daring.” Coulson turns to them. “The specs are inside. The mosquitos aren’t. Could we maybe continue this conversation over a glass of iced tea?”

Coulson gives them a quick tour, mostly consisting of pointing out the controls to various security and home systems and assuring them that Jarvis functions here too. Bucky can see Coulson trying to figure out whether Steve is going to go for it when Steve answers the question for him.

“You’re welcome to spend the night, sir, if you don’t want to head back this late.”

“I take it that means you’re staying?” Coulson asks.

Steve startles, and glances at Bucky. “Wait – you’re staying too, right?”

Bucky shakes his head at him fondly. “Of course, you idiot. I’m not about to pass up a luxury lakeside vacation.”

Steve grins and turns back to Coulson. “Yeah. We’re staying.”

*****

The house is beautifully appointed, if a little on the nose in its faux country decorating style. Bucky supposes they should be glad that the woodsy theme doesn’t extend to dead animal trophies on the walls.

He has no objection to the king sized bed in the master bedroom with the fluffiest duvet he’s ever had the pleasure to fall into, however, or the whirlpool tub and rainwater shower heads. The full gym in the basement is nothing to sneeze at, either.

Steve questions him for a few minutes after Coulson leaves, a little ticked off at the thought that Bucky had manipulated him, until Bucky explains that he hadn’t realized what was going on, either. “When I talked to Tony this morning, it was just an idea. I was going to talk to Coulson next, but I never got a chance.”

“So Tony convinced Coulson? And threw in use of his… what do we call this place, anyway? A hunting lodge? A chalet?”

Bucky laughs. “We’re in Vermont, not Switzerland. But it’s definitely fancier than a log cabin.”

Steve goes to sleep early, while Bucky familiarizes himself with the house and its surroundings. The security system is top-notch, as he would expect with any Stark property. It’s enough to calm Bucky’s paranoia and then some.

The kitchen is fully stocked, and Bucky sees that he has a text with instructions on how to order more food. They can also have more clothes and other personal items shipped up – although Coulson’s initial instructions to pack for a casual undercover mission that could last up to a week means that they aren’t completely unprepared.

Bucky walks down to the water’s edge, guided by tiny lights set into the path that can be controlled by an app he’s just installed on his phone. There are canoes stacked off to one side, and two boats with canvas covers on them on either side of the dock. The lake stretches out in front of him, glinting with moonlight. It’s quiet, except for the soft sounds of insects and a light breeze rustling in the trees.

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, and lets out a long breath. It’s as beautiful a place as Bucky has ever seen. He just hopes Steve likes it.

Later that night, Bucky wakes up to the sound of Steve whispering his name. He turns over in his fluffy cocoon and opens his eyes.

“Bucky?” He can make out Steve’s outline in the dim light, but not much else.

“Steve? What’s wrong?”

“I… I didn’t get to give you a good night kiss.” Steve’s voice is lightly teasing, and Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. This is a nice moment, not a panicked one.

“There’s still time,” Bucky replies, his voice rough with sleep.

Steve moves closer and rests his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. When his lips land on Bucky’s mouth, warm and sure, Bucky feels a shiver run through his body. They trade lazy kisses back and forth for a few minutes, and then Steve ducks his head, resting against Bucky’s chest. Bucky shuffles them until Steve is comfortably curled up against him, just like he did a few nights ago. Bucky doesn’t want to hope it will become a habit, but he can’t help it.

“Love you, Steve,” he says softly.

Steve presses into Bucky’s chest, tightens his arm around his waist. “Love you, too.”

*****

Steve spends most of the next few days sleeping. It’s like someone unplugged him, Bucky thinks. They stopped prodding him with all the things he felt obligated to do, and Steve just collapsed.

Steve doesn’t seem unhappy about it, though. Quite the opposite – he seems delighted with the fact that he can sleep all day long, and so Bucky goes with it. They nap together in bed, or downstairs on the couches. The first floor has a kitchen that opens up into a large room with a generous seating area and shining wood dining table. The big glass windows that open up onto a view of the lake have several settings to give them privacy but still allow them to look out, and Steve insists that the light won’t keep him awake, so they have a stunning view all day long.

When Bucky gets bored of sleeping he works out in the gym, putters around in the kitchen, or reads out on the deck. There’s wifi, of course, with a secure connection, and Bucky chats back and forth with Bruce, and Prisha, and even Pepper. Steve has shown no sign of wanting to talk to anyone else, which is fine, and Prisha assures him the whole sleeping beauty routine is normal – good, even. “It means he’s feeling less pressured,” she tries to explain. “He’s been expending a lot of energy, playing his part. It’s understandable that he’s taking some time to recharge.”

It makes Bucky feel like he should have done more sooner, but he tells himself that’s water under the bridge. Now he just makes sure Steve eats whenever he emerges, and then tucks him back into bed when naptime rolls around again.

On the afternoon of the fifth day Bucky is watching television when Steve shuffles into the living room. His hair is pointing every which way, and he’s wearing the same t-shirt and striped sleep pants he’s had on for about seventy-two hours. Bucky wants to wrap him up in his arms and kiss him silly.

“Can I join you?” Steve asks, and Bucky gives him a look that hopefully says “duh” as clearly as possible. Steve sits down on the couch and then stretches out with his head on Bucky’s leg.

“This okay?”

“Course,” Bucky responds. “It’s nice.” He plays with Steve’s hair a little, and Steve squirms.

“I’m trying to watch the show.”

Bucky laughs. “You don’t even know what I’m watching.”

Steve rolls and looks at Bucky, appalled. “You think I don’t know about Buffy? This show is a classic. Josh Whedon’s best work.” He harrumphs and rolls back over so he can see the screen. “But the earlier seasons are better.”

They argue for a while about which episodes are best. Turns out Bucky hasn’t watched nearly as much of the show as Steve has, and Steve takes it upon himself to remedy the situation. But they can’t agree on where to start, and Steve is too impatient to just begin at the beginning (the internet tells them there are 144 episodes, and Bucky has to agree that’s a lot).

Luckily they find a few good articles claiming to have identified the top ten or so episodes, and soon Steve settles back down again, content to point out favorite moments from his comfortable spot, his head back on Bucky’s thigh, hand gently resting on Bucky’s knee.

After a particularly affectionate moment among the Buffy version of the Scooby gang, Bucky comments that they’re kind of like the Avengers on a good day, and then all bets are off.

“Clint is definitely Xander,” Steve begins. “If anyone was going to get the funny syphilis, it would be him.”

“It would suck to be the one without any superpowers,” Bucky agrees. The serum has been the cause of both good and bad in Bucky’s life, but it definitely gives him an advantage when it comes to fighting evil. And he’s never going to have to worry about syphilis, funny or otherwise. “Natasha is some kind of combination of Willow at her most bad-ass, and Faith,” Bucky continues.

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve says. “A little bad-Willow history, that’s definitely Nat.”

“You’re Buffy, and Coulson is Giles-”

“I am not Buffy,” Steve protests.

“Are you kidding? You save the world on a regular basis, you fight bullies, and you don’t take crap from anyone. You are absolutely Buffy.”

Steve sits up and moves away from Bucky, his face troubled. “No, I’m not. I’m Angel.”

Bucky’s not letting that lie for a moment. “Dark, broody and tragic? Pal, that’s me, not you.” Bucky keeps his tone light, but their conversation has touched something painful in Steve, and he’s not sure what’s going on. He’s also not really interested in delving into the many additional traits he shares with Angel, complete with the back and forth between evil and good, without a doubt a characteristic that does not apply to Steve.

Steve stands up and wraps his arms around himself, and Bucky mutes the television.

“Steve? What’s wrong?”

“I am Angel. He couldn’t be with Buffy because he… he couldn’t be intimate with her.”

“You feel like Angel because you can’t be touched? Steve, Angel was cursed so that experiencing a moment of true happiness took away his soul. That is in no way the same thing as what’s going on with you.”

Steve purses his lips. “Might as well be. We’ve been here a week, and I still can’t let you… “ Steve paces in exasperation. “I thought this was supposed to fix me.”

“Steve, we’ve been here five days, and – and there’s no timeline for this.” Bucky stands and steps closer to Steve, trying to catch his eye. “Do you think that’s what I’m doing, trying to fix you?”

Steve just shrugs, but he doesn’t move away, flicking his eyes up to Bucky and back down at the floor again.

“You’re not broken, Steve, and you don’t need to be fixed. That’s not what’s going on here. You’re unhappy with this one aspect of our relationship, and so we’re working on that. And we can be together no matter what happens. Okay?” Bucky thinks Prisha would be proud of him for this – separating out the intimacy issue from the rest of their relationship. It’s not all about touching, she keeps reminding them. If only Steve would believe it.

Steve shrugs again.

“Steve, if you had found me when you first started searching, back after the helicarrier mess. What do you think you would have found?” It’s pretty much a rhetorical question, so Bucky just goes on when Steve doesn’t answer. “I wasn’t in a good place. I wasn’t ready to just hang out and be pals, shoot the shit at movie night… I could barely think straight. I didn’t know my own name – like, literally. Would you have just ditched me, because I wasn’t fit for civilized company?”

Steve looks appalled. “Bucky – no, of course not!”

“So how can you think I’d be any less understanding with you?”

Steve pouts and doesn’t answer for a long moment. “I dunno. It’s just… it’s hard.”

“I know.” Bucky sighs. “On the bright side, I’m pretty sure you were just snuggling on my lap like a sleepy kitten for the past three or four hours. Some pretty nice cuddling going on there. You haven’t forgotten that, right?”

Steve looks at him. “No. But…”

He’s nothing if not stubborn, but Bucky can see him relenting.

“You’re doing fine, Steve. We’re doing fine.”

“Yeah. Okay. Maybe. But… what if I am like Angel? What if we can never…?”

Bucky grins at him. “If orgasms send you off into hell? Then I’ll come find you and drag you out.”

“Just like Buffy,” Steve says, confident now. “You just proved my point. You’re Buffy, I’m Angel.”

Bucky laughs. “Pretty sure you pulled me out of hell the last time around. But please yourself.” He stretches and looks around as his stomach lets out a loud growl. “Want to take a break and have dinner, if you’re done beating yourself up for now?”

Steve shoves him in the shoulder as they go into the kitchen. “Jerk.”

“Punk.”

#stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Captain America #Marvel fic #my fic

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mypkshop-blog · 5 years

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swanfrcst · 7 years

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between the moonbeams

fandom: owari no seraph | gureshin | ~4k words

summary: the hiiragi’s reign must end – and this duty rests in guren’s hands.

a/n: late entry for @onsshipsweek day one: the past & royalty & falling into darkness ||| this is a vague royalty/assassination plot au...give me the gureshin angst

content warnings for: character death (lol)

(this will be posted on ao3 after it’s beta-d and fixed up a bit but i wanted to get it out for the week before it was SUPER late...)

NOW:

“Are you ready?” Shigure asks quietly, carefully.

Guren cannot see her face behind the thick black mask she wears, but her tone carries her worry well. Worry about too many things to properly articulate in the sharp, curt way Shigure often does.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Guren responds. He slips on his own mask, securing the straps behind his ears. One last check of the knives hidden in the folds of his clothes, the homemade bombs strapped snugly to his waist, the sword sheathed tightly to his side.

A quick glance to the four people standing beside him reveals that they are all standing at attention, waiting for Guren to give the command. There is tension between them, borne from urgency and determination. Guren inhales and wonders if he will be sending all his friends to their deaths.

“Operation Namanari, begin.”

Inside the castle, the hallways burst with light and cheer. Hiiragi Tenri’s party is bustling with exotic foods and upbeat music, nobles dressed in rich silks and gleaming gems coasting room to room. Shinya keeps his smile bright throughout the entire evening, making small talk with various men and women and bowing politely whenever he passes one of his older brothers.

It’s not until Mahiru appears at his side, beautiful silver dress trailing behind her like swan feathers, does Shinya realize how tired he is.

“You look a little worse for wear, brother,” Mahiru says. And what a hypocrite she is, Shinya thinks, for Mahiru’s still got her royalty smile painted prettily on her lips, even when she is talking to him.

“Well,” Shinya replies, letting himself relax for the first time that night, carefully rolling a glass of sparkling wine between his fingertips, “I’m not the best people pleaser in the royal family.”

Mahiru cocks her head, considering Shinya first and then the crowd around them. There is no one paying any attention to them, and there was still some time until the planned speeches and banquet party. Humming lightly, Mahiru daintily places a gloved hand on Shinya arm, smile shifting into something more organic, more real.

“Shinya,” she says, “Won’t you accompany me to the courtyards? It looks like both of us could use some fresh air.”

Immediately recognizing the spark of adventure in her eyes, Shinya barks out in laughter. “It would be my honor.”

BEFORE:

Shinya sticks his face through the gilded iron bars of the fence and says, “You know that commoners aren’t allowed this close to the castle without permission, right? You should leave before my father catches you.”

There is a startled cry and the boy who had been furtively crouching behind a bush raises his head above it.

“What’s it to you?” he snaps defensively, and Shinya notes with curiosity the smudges of dirt and mud on the boy’s cheeks and the way leaves and sticks have become matted in his dark hair.

“I’m a prince, duh,” Shinya replies. “And you’re trespassing on my house.”

The only reason Shinya is at the castle’s back gate is because he is awfully bored after having escaped the pesky private tutor. Besides, Shinya is practically last in line for the throne anyways, and all his siblings know he couldn’t really care less about being a king. In the end, it’s up to Kureto and Mahiru can fight it out. But for now, Shinya is too young to understand what exactly it all means.

Shinya also hasn’t seen anyone outside of his family or the castle staff before, which is why he decides to stay and talk to this strange boy instead of running away and alerting a guard.

Surprisingly, the boy doesn’t cower in fear or run away. Instead, he glances around quickly before stepping out of the bushes with an angry glower. Shinya supposes it is meant to be menacing, but as someone who has lived with Hiiragi Tenri for eight years, the boy’s expression is simply amusing.

“Listen, you,” the boy hisses in a quiet rage, “I don’t need a stupid prince to tell me what to do! I can go where ever I want and do whatever I want and you can’t stop me!”

What is his problem, Shinya wonders, and falls into silence, staring at this strange boy who spouts strange things and is somehow not afraid of anything.

The boy snarls in response to Shinya’s silence and raises his face to glare at Shinya. His eyes are dark and alight with passion, but it is markedly different from the ambition often reflected in brother Kureto’s gaze. Shinya immediately decides that he’s made a new friend.

With this epiphany in mind, Shinya smiles and waves at the boy, who stops growling in confusion. “Wait here,” Shinya says, and runs off before the boy can respond.

Shinya heads straight for the pathway hidden behind a ring of large stone sculptures and a thick grove of trees. There’s a hole in the wall blocked by a big rock, the hole big enough for Shinya to squeeze through. As long as he’s not gone for too long, this secret should stay with him for years to come.

For now, he just wants to meet his new friend. So Shinya squeezes his eyes shut to prevent bugs from getting on his face and painstakingly shimmies through the hole, carefully pushing the rock back as much as he can once he crawls out. The strange boy watches him this entire time, tense but anticipating.

Brushing off the dirt on his knees and elbows, Shinya confidently marches toward the boy, who quickly turns around, making sure his back isn’t facing Shinya – a motion Shinya takes note of. But these mysteries he can solve later. After all, Shinya’s got all the time in the world.

“Hello,” Shinya says, putting on his brightest, most charming smile. The roughness in the boy’s expression fades a little, as if he’s letting his guard down.

“My name is Hiiragi Shinya.” he continues, “Would you like to be my friend?”

NOW:

Guren glances up at the full moon, frowning. Perhaps it would have been better to wait until there was less moonlight – less chance of them being seen. But Hiiragi parties were a rare, exclusive event, and Guren did not have limitless patience. By this point, it was now or never.

At his side, Goshi reaches out and taps his shoulder twice before flashing Guren a thumbs up and slipping away into the shadows. Shigure and Mito had already left earlier, each of them fulfilling their part of the plan.

After Goshi leaves, Guren presses his back against the rough, tall wall surrounding the Hiiragi castle and counts his breaths, marking the seconds that pass by. Accompanied by nothing but the moonlight and the white noise of crickets singing, Guren manages to still his movements and let his thoughts wander. All at once, the sword by his side seems heavier than normal, as if reminding him of the weight his actions will carry.

( There was once a time where Guren had stood next to the youngest Hiiragi prince as an equal, kissed his scrapes and bruises until the young boy had shed tears from laughter rather than pain, held his hand under the midday sun and the starlight from a new moon. There still are times when Guren wakes up to the memory of a warmth pressed against his side, the echoes of kisses fading from his cheeks, his neck. Once, he wakes up with tears in his eyes and a name on the tip of his tongue. )

But of course, duty outweighs love, and Guren has had years of practice shutting away his heart.

On their way to the courtyard, they pass by a lone servant carrying a tray of food through the hallway. Her dark blonde hair is tucked neatly into a small braid, and when she sees them approaches, immediately begins to kneel.

“No, no,” Shinya cries, a little flustered, although the serving girl seems more affected, judging from the way she trembles, “it’s quite alright, please stand.”

“Mahiru-sama, Shinya-sama,” she whispers, “Please excuse me.”

Mahiru, however, has stilled, carefully watching the girl as she slowly rises to her feet, head bent and eyes averted.

“What’s your name?” Mahiru calls out. The servant flinches.

“S-Sayuri, my lady,” she says, still refusing to meet Mahiru’s eyes.

“Mahiru,” Shinya asks, “What in the world are you doing?”, because Mahiru’s got that look in her eye that spells nothing but trouble.

“Oh, nothing you need to worry about,” the princess says, brushing off Shinya’s concerns with a wave of her hand before turning back to the servant. “Sayuri, darling, won’t you accompany Shinya and I? Just bring that tray of snacks with you, it’ll be appreciated.”

Of course, the serving girl can’t refuse, so she bows and follows Shinya and Mahiru into one of the Hiiragi family’s many courtyards. This one has a curved koi pond in the middle of the grassy space, a cobblestoned path winding through the trees planted against the wall.

Humming cheerfully, Mahiru carefully gathers her dress and walks along the edge of the pond, peering at the fish that flit about. The moon reflects on the surface, casting glowing silver ripples across the dark water.

The courtyard is far quieter than the commotion inside, and Shinya sighs deeply, stretching his arms out. “Finally,” he says, laughing, “I have escaped.”

Mahiru scoffs. “If only.”

(There is a rustle in the treetops, and a startled bird squawks and takes flight. “A squirrel?” Shinya asks carelessly, following Mahiru around the pond. She shrugs. Both of them ignore Sayuri, who has fixed a sharp look onto what seems to be empty space.)

The two siblings stand before one of the stone benches lining the pond, Shinya brushing away the dust and grass before gesturing for Mahiru to sit down. She smiles sweetly at him, waving Sayuri over and plucking a small pastry from the plate. Shinya sits next to her, stretching his legs out in a manner very unbefitting of royalty. The two let the blessed silence wash over them, basking in the moonlight.

“Say,” Mahiru muses suddenly, breaking the silence. She carefully smooths out some wrinkles in her dress, flicking away imaginary lint. “This would be a perfect night for an assassination, wouldn’t it?”

Shinya, who has just taken a bite of a small slice of pie, chokes. It takes a bit of sputtering and sipping from a glass of water offered by Sayuri for him to recover. Meanwhile, Mahiru still wears the same amused expression, as if she is in on some secret Shinya doesn’t know.

Perhaps she is – Shinya wouldn’t be surprised.

“You shouldn’t speak like that, sister,” Shinya says, although it is more of a reflexive response than anything.

Mahiru coughs softly, and Sayuri says gently, “Is there anything you need, Mahiru-sama?”

“Oh,” the princess says, “I’d like one of the specialty rolls brother Seishirou has been raving about. Get some for Shinya as well.”

Sayuri sets her platter of food down and bows deeply before quickly walking away. Watching this quaint exchange, and observing Mahiru’s nonchalant demeanor, Shinya suddenly has a very bad feeling about what the rest of the night holds.

THEN:

“Guren, where have you been all day? I already told you that today we were going to meet an important ally, how could you forget?!”

As Guren steps through the foyer of the safe house, he rubs his face and does his best to ignore Mito’s snarls grating at his eardrums. She is standing in front of him, arms crossed and brow furrowed, but Guren realizes he barely has the energy to care.

“Something important,” Guren says flippantly, pushing past Mito and walking toward the kitchen. “Narumi and his men can wait.”

“They’ve been waiting!” Mito screeches, pivoting sharply and storming after Guren. “You realize they are the only viable providers of the materials we need? Do you want to throw our entire operation into jeopardy?”

Guren ignores Mito’s ranting and goes straight to the bedroom, locks the door behind him. Eventually, she falls silent and leaves, no doubt to fume some more elsewhere. If it were at any other time, Guren would feel guilty and irresponsible – but –

Shinya finds him in their regular meeting spot: a small, hidden alcove about a mile from the castle. He’s smiling ear to ear, a cloth bag in one hand and a wine bottle in the other.

“You’re extra smiley today,” Guren notes, swinging down from his comfortable position wedged on the branches of a tree. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well,” Shinya says, gesturing for Guren to come closer, “it’s not every day that you ask me to meet you, so I thought I’d celebrate you finally deciding to take the next step in our relationship!”

He is joking, Guren knows, but Guren’s throat still closes with the knowledge of what he is about to do. But he is careful to let none of it show and playfully hits Shinya’s arm instead.

“What relationship?” Guren says with a small smile, “I only keep you for the food you bring me.”

Shinya nods knowingly. “Of course. Who knows what kind of food you commoners eat every day? It’s about time you treat yourself.”

Saying so, Shinya waves the bag in Guren’s face and sits, placing the bottle of wine next to him as he opens the bag and begins to carefully take out the prepackaged snacks inside. Guren, however, stays standing, even when Shinya looks up expectantly.

“What’s wrong?” Shinya asks, “Are you ok?”

Guren is so, so careful to make sure that his expression stays neutral, as if he didn’t quite care about what he would be saying next.

“Shinya,” he begins, watching as Shinya recognizes the change in atmosphere and sets the package in his hands down. “We should end this.”

“End this? Are you afraid of being caught?”

“No, it’s just – there is no point in us meeting any more. In fact, there was no point in the first place. It’s time to move on.”

A lie, a lie, a lie, but who is Guren to tell?

NOW:

Guren hears “I’d like one of the specialty rolls – “ and immediately tips his head up and left, waiting for the visual signal. Already, the palms of his hands are sweating, almost soaking through his gloves. In the corner of his eye, a shadow shifts; one of Shigure’s throwing knives streaks silently through the air and lands snugly in the dirt next to his feet.

Bending down to pocket the knife, Guren flashes a hand signal in Shigure’s general direction. Then, he sets his shoulders and begins to climb the wall. The rough stone digs into his hands, and even his gloves aren’t thick enough to stop the chill from slipping past the fabric. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending how he looks at it), the climb is longer than expected and he has the time to really stop the slight tremors in his arms that aren’t caused by physical exertion.

He reaches a dip in the wall, where the surface has been smoothed out by wind and rain, and swears under his breath. Now he has to carefully shift to the side, searching for a better path. Even in the darkness, Guren can feel Shigure’s eyes on him, tracking his movement, ready to provide assistance if needed.

But Guren knows that if he does not climb over this wall himself, he will never be able to carry out the task he has been assigned. So he grits his teeth and pulls himself over the final stretch of concrete and stone.

Once his vertigo settles, Guren takes in the courtyard below him. There is a grove of trees in front of him, effectively shielding him from Shinya and Mahiru who are sitting in a stone bench facing away from him and toward a small fish pond, idly chatting about kingdom affairs.

Guren can’t see Shigure, but he knows she is positioned to his right, knives and wire traps at the ready. Behind him is Mito, crouched on top of the wall with a quiver slung over her shoulder and a taunt bow ready to fire. She’s got a bottle of oil and a flint stone by her side as well, along with sheets of flammable cloth.

This is for the greater good, Guren repeats in his mind. This is for the greater good –

A flash of silver whistles through the night, moonlight catching off the polished metal of Shigure’s knives as they shoot past Shinya and Mahiru. Six, seven, eight of them find spots in the dirt, in the cracks of the stone path, in the barks of trees. Another flick of the wrist, another five, six, seven slip out of the trees, and this time, the razor-thin wires attached to each knife flash in the moonlight.

Shinya’s eyes grow wide, and he leaps to his feet, ready to flee (or fight? he doesn’t know).

“Mahiru,” he says urgently, “Mahiru, what – “

Sayuri closes the courtyard door behind her and peaks down the hallway, listening for footsteps. When she hears none, she quietly bolts the door shut and wedges a block of wood in the gap between the lock.

Then, she pats down her dress and quickly walks away. The blades hidden in the sleeves of her uniform press against her skin – a reminder.

THEN:

The talk of the city is this: Mahiru is getting married.

A political marriage from the looks of it, betrothed to a prince of a neighboring country, a country with access to certain natural resources that the Hiiragi kingdom lacked.

But when the Hiiragis do their annual parade around the capitol to celebrate King Hiiragi’s birthday, Mahiru sits upon her carriage dressed in lavish robes and with a satisfied smile dancing on her lips. Guren stands among the gathered crowd, watching along with the rest of the city as the Hiiragi royal family passes through.

Curiously, the moment Mahiru turns her head in Guren’s direction is the moment when the sun sparks off the edge of the carriage, momentarily blinding Guren. He curses silently and brings his hand up to shade his eyes, but when his vision clears, Mahiru is looking away and the carriage has passed.

No matter. Guren has gotten what he came for, and quietly slips away through the crowd.

A few days later, Hiiragi Mahiru knocks on the door of the safehouse listed on the letter she’d received. The door swings open to reveal a timid-looking girl who bows when she sees the visitor.

“Come in,” Sayuri says, “Guren has been expecting you.”

Mahiru stays for less than half an hour. When Guren walks out into the living room, Mahiru, dressed in a simple cloak and body void of any makeup or jewelry, seizes him up and smiles unkindly.

“So you’re the man who has my brother in the depths of misery,” she says, voice carefully flat.

“It was a mistake,” Guren replies with just as much emotion. “And I think we both know that duty comes first.”

After this exchange, Mahiru listens carefully to Guren’s plan and agrees to it with little resistance. Before she leaves, she turns to Sayuri and says, “I will be seeing you soon, then.”

Sayuri simply bows and the door closes behind Mahiru, her footsteps fading away into the night.

NOW:

Mahiru sits on the stone bench and does not move, even as a knife flashes right in front of her face, narrowly missing her nose, even as Shinya jumps up and cuts his arm on a taunt wire stretched through the air. She is calm, eyes fixed on a point in the distance.

“Shinya,” she finally says, “If I were you, I wouldn’t move.”

And Shinya freezes because this is the voice Mahiru uses when she is deadly serious, when she expects complete compliance and nothing else. But why?

Suddenly, Shinya feels something shift underneath his feet, and a tremor shakes the earth. Shinya leans down to steady himself against the bench, swearing under his breath as the invisible wires leave cuts on his cheeks, his arms, his shoulders. Then – there is an ear shattering explosion and part of the castle goes up in flames.

“What is going on?” Shinya screams, planting his feet firmly into the ground as another explosion rattles the earth. Ash has begun to float from the interior of the castle where the explosions had gone off, the wind dusting black flakes of burnt material onto the grass.

Still, Mahiru sits calmly, hands folded neatly in her lap, hair still pinned perfectly with not a strand out of place. This image is so unbearable wrong, and dread begins to pile low in his stomach. Shinya ignores the fact that there are razor sharp wires hovering by him that could kill him in an instant and steps forward to grab Mahiru roughly by the shoulders.

“Mahiru,” he hisses, and Mahiru slowly meets his eyes. “Explain.”

A flicker of weariness reflects in her eyes. “I am sorry, Shinya,” she says quietly, even as another explosion echoes through the night. “But this is for the best.”

“For the best? What best? Why is this happening?”

But before Mahiru can answer, and arrow streaks out from the shadows, lodging itself neatly into Shinya’s shoulder. He yells in pain, stumbling backwards, even as another knife sparks through the air, a warning.

An assassination, Shinya thinks through the haze. But why? Who?

And why does Mahiru not care at all?

Through the crackle of flames and the chaos from the castle in front of him, Shinya hears the soft tap of something – someone – landing on the grass behind him. Mahiru turns her head, eyes widening a fraction, but Shinya doesn’t notice. Instead, he turns around, slowly, as carefully as he can with an arrow in his shoulder.

There is a person, dressed in all black, face covered with a mask that is flat and dull and catches no light at all. The person lifts their head up, seemingly glancing over Mahiru first, then Shinya, and just as Shinya is about to open his mouth to speak, another explosion drowns out his words.

The last thing Shinya sees the masked figure, framed by the light of the full moon, and the silver glint of a blade as it swings down, down, down.

AFTER:

Guren stumbles out of the smoke, into the streets of a city that was far too active for this early in the morning. But it’s to be expected – the Hiiragi castle is in flames and no one knows why.

Turn left, pass three alleyways, another left – into a small medicine store and down the staircase into the storage cellar he runs, pushing open the hidden door and finally coming to rest before a group of people gathered in the secret room. Standing at the end of a wooden table is a man, tall and slim, with pale white skin and an unsettling smile. He watches Guren as he catches his breath.

Sayuri and Goshi immediately come to his side, checking for injuries. Guren knows that Mito and Shigure will be here soon as well.

“You did it,” the man says. “I didn’t think you could, considering – “

Guren barks out a peal of laughter, rough around the edges and sharp in the middle. He pulls off his mask, peeling off his gloves. Sayuri quickly takes them.

“It hardly matters now, does it?” Guren sneers. “We’ve completed our part of the mission, and that is the end of our association with your rebel group.”

The man only smiles, hands clasped behind his back, unperturbed. “So be it,” he says, “I wish you luck in your future endeavors, Ichinose.”

Behind Guren, the door swings open, and Mito and Shigure step into the room. They do not close the door behind them. Guren takes a deep breath, straightens his back.

“Let’s go,” he says, and leads the way out into the darkness.

#onsshipsweek #owari no seraph #ichinose guren #hiiragi shinya #gureshin #guren squad #hiiragi mahiru #swankitty writes #this is like...the least shippy thing ever i am so sorry hey i tried #also this entry was not SUPPOSED to be this late but then again it wasn't supposed to be more than 1.5k SO...rest in pieces

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