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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

La Douleur Exquise

; Horse Hybrid!Taehyung x Lovebird Hybrid!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Warnings: Penetrative sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, impregnation kink, filmed sex

; Word Count: 14.9k

; Synopsis: Taehyung is in love with his best friend. The problem? He’s a stallion, a horse hybrid who’s basic instinct is to collect a herd of women to protect and procreate. His best friend is a lovebird hybrid and they mate for life. He knows it’s pretty much impossible to be together and that you’d end up hurt, but what happens when he finds out you love him just as much?

; A/N: So, my first fic in like...two months? I started this fic in early July and honestly...I just wanted it finished. If it seems a bit disjointed or something then it was very stop and start...I hope you all enjoy it anyway and that it doesn’t disappoint or anything! It’s taken a WHILE for me to get back into writing (honestly, I almost left lol). Please reblog if you enjoyed and leave me comments and asks!

“Oh...fuck. Fuck, you’re so big, mmm,” The girl on her hands and knees in front of Taehyung moaned, her ass wiggling in desperation as he thrust his hard cock into her soaked pussy. “Harder, please. Please, fuck me harder.”

He hissed as she clenched around him, his entire length disappearing with ease inside her as his hips moved rhythmically. Large hands groped at the globes of her ass, squeezing them and spreading them wide to give the best view possible. Grunting, he slapped at one cheek hard and smirked when she yelped, jerking slightly.

“Such a pretty girl, so pliant and willing, hmm?” Taehyung questioned, his voice low and brusque as he moved hard enough to cause the room to be filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin. “A greedy pussy, so eager for your stallion to get you in foal, aren’t you?”

She moaned in response, her face unseen to him but her body reacted by squeezing around his cock once more. Running one hand along her spine, he hummed in delight before leaning forward and biting down on her shoulder. It was instinctual, something deep in his genes telling him to hold her steady while he filled her up and impregnated her.

His other hand moved down to her clit, the bundle of nerves still soft and silky with her excitement but also swollen hard with her impending orgasm. Years of experience let his fingertips find the exact spot he needed, swirling them in quick circles and making her cry out even louder, hips bucking beneath him.

“That’s a good mare,” He panted, trailing his nose along her neck slowly. “Come for me, come on, you can do it. Tighten that pussy around me and I’ll breed you as you want.”

Her orgasm hit seconds later, body convulsing tightly around him and he grunted, hips jerking forward even more rapidly. She was whining, a babbling mess beneath him as he continued to stimulate her, the effects being just as pleasurable for him too until he too came.

Pressing into her hard, he felt the slight resistance of what must be her uterus against the tip of his cock but she didn’t complain of any pain. One of the benefits of being a fellow horse hybrid was that a mare was biologically compatible with the large cock stallions had. One hand held her hips steady, making sure she didn’t move away as his balls convulsed rhythmically, each time causing his cock to twitch as he continued to ejaculate inside her.

She was breathing hard now, her body covered in a fine layer of sweat that caught the light perfectly and he hummed in appreciation, finally feeling the end of his orgasm. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and licked at his lips as he gave a few, shallow thrusts to wring out his final moments of pleasure and also make sure she got all of his cum.

“You were a good girl for me. We’ll get a nice colt or filly from you.” He mutters, stroking along her back appreciatively. Her skin was darker in certain patches and lighter in others, a result of her American Paint Horse breeding. It was pretty and he let his fingers trail along with the colour distinction.

Finally, though, he pulled out. The noise as he did so was extremely wet, but that was nothing compared to the rush of thick, white cum that slipped out of her used pussy. Pursing his lips, he looked it over carefully before dragging his fingers through some of it and pushing it back inside her. It didn’t matter, stallions were renowned for the large amount of semen they produced and she was probably filled inside.

“And cut!” Called the director, his voice interrupting the silence of the set. Taehyung let out an immediate sigh of relief and sat back, his cock rapidly softening now that the scene was over. His co-star sat up with a groan, stretching to get out the kinks in her back from the position she’d been in for the last ten minutes.

As she did so, the trickle of cum once more became a torrent, slipping down her thighs to collect on the bed. She didn’t pay attention to it and he didn’t say anything, the two of them used to scenes like this by now. Wheein was a consummate professional and one of the best in the porn industry, just like Taehyung.

“That was a good scene,” She complimented him, smiling in gratitude to her assistant who brought a robe that she used to cover herself up with. “Even if the whole ‘dirty talk’ is a little overdone nowadays.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in agreement, grinning as he accepted the cleaning wipes from his assistant. Without a care in the world, he began to wipe his cock clean as he continued on his discussion with Wheein. She was quickly wiping down her thighs and between her legs as well. They’d both clean up more properly when they went to their dressing rooms but he wouldn’t be seeing her again after this.

Not unless they worked on the same set again.

“Right? It’s so fucking cringe. I wish they’d hire someone who’s an equine if they’re going to write a script featuring two of us. Who even talks like that?” He muttered, tugging on his robe and tying it closed before slipping his feet into the sandals provided to him.

The laugh Wheein gives is sweet, making her entire face light up. She really is a beautiful woman and her body is equally divine, only made even better by her kind and bubbly personality. Not that she’d been able to show that during this scene of course.

It struck Taehyung that she’d probably make a good mare for his herd. Despite the fact they were lamenting how lame the script was that they’d been given, there were some truths to what they’d filmed. A stallion like Taehyung would actively seek out fertile mares from good stock for his herd to breed with.

The better quality the mare’s breeding, the better his foals would be.

At least, that’s what horse hybrids were meant to do. Wheein would probably even agree to it if he asked. He knew that she wasn’t in a herd already and she’d made it pretty clear to him that she’d be open to something outside of their work if he wanted. His deeply-rooted instincts demanded that he take her home and breed her properly, but he just sighed deeply instead.

He may be a horse hybrid, with all the possessive and protective instincts that provided him as a stallion, but he had no actual interest in living his life like that. Which is why he makes a little more small talk with Wheein before leaving to go to his dressing room. The shower he takes is quick, making sure to rub viciously at his body as he tries his hardest to remove any scent of the mare he’d just fucked.

Hybrids were something that had been created long ago. So long ago, no one knew how they were made anymore. The knowledge had been lost in the Hybrid Revolution, three centuries ago when hybrids had refused to be slaves for their human masters anymore. Ever since they’d been treated as equals to everyone else in society.

That didn’t mean that they’d integrated fully of course. Hybrids of different species more often than not stayed with each other or mated with humans. It did happen though, but the differing instincts meant it often was better for a hybrid to simply stay within their species.

Something Taehyung had always found amusing though was the fact that even within their species, a lot of hybrids would only mate within their own ‘breed’. Wheein was a pure American Paint Horse, coming from a long line that could be traced back to when the humans had been breeding horse hybrids for manual labour, protection services and sports purposes.

Back then, the humans treated hybrids exactly like actual horses. They had a studbook and would breed stallions to certain mares to produce characteristics they wanted. Placid nature, easy to work with, intelligent, quick to learn and so forth. When they’d been released, the breeds had continued on the studbooks to this day.

There were plenty who didn’t follow that ideology, of course, Taehyung’s parents were not the same breed after all, but a lot seemed to put stock in being ‘purebred’. It was just another way to act superior in his opinion.

Besides, his parents may not be from the same breed but he was still technically a breed all of his own. His mother was an Arabian while his father a Thoroughbred, meaning he was a breed called an Anglo-Arab. That was considered a breed in its own right, though perhaps not as prestigious as either of his parents.

Whatever he didn’t care about all that. Taehyung had no real interest in following the cultural norms of his heritage. And the reason for that was waiting for him back at his apartment. The thought of that spurred him into cleaning up even faster, making sure he was squeaky clean before pulling on the clothes he’d removed earlier in the day.

Glancing in the mirror once finished, he sighed deeply and looked himself over. A quirk of his kind was that they looked distinctly hybrid in ways that didn’t match others.

A dog hybrid may have the ears of a spaniel while a cat could have the tail of a Persian. Horse hybrids didn’t have any of their animal counterpart’s physical characteristics though, no tails or ears or anything like that. But their animal genes had manifested uniquely in their skin and hair.

If someone was a bay then they would have brown skin in a range of shades while their lower arms, legs and the space around their mouths and nose would be even darker and their hair a luscious black. Taehyung blended a little better than most other horse hybrids, but for others like Wheein, it was more obvious. Her skin was covered in patches of alternating dark and light while her natural hair grew in white and dark brown.

He knew that certain breeds had distinct characteristics as well. An old high school friend was a Friesian with coal-black skin and the most luxuriously thick, wavy black hair. One of his Taehyung’s siblings, on the other hand, had a Lipizzaner mare in his herd; her skin and hair was snow white. It certainly made them easily identifiable.

Taehyung wasn’t quite so obvious. His palomino colouring was visible; pale white hair that was a little too long and softly tousled matched with rich golden skin. Broad shoulders tapered down into a slim waist, currently covered in a loose white button-up. His hair was still wet, dripping onto his shirt while his strong thighs and calves were contained within equally loose-fitting tan trousers.

He didn’t look like someone who’d just filmed pornography, but then again, what did that look anyway? Just a person? Still, he felt a small sense of satisfaction at how well he was going to blend. The last thing he wanted was to go home and have it look obvious what he’d just been doing, even if it was his job.

Chewing on his lip, he grabs his leather cross shoulder bag and exits the dressing room. He promised to get takeout tonight, and he wasn’t going to renege on that deal.

“I have food!” Taehyung calls out, placing the bag of takeout he’d just picked up on the kitchen counter before shrugging off his jacket. By the time he gets back from hanging it up, you’ve already emerged from your bedroom and are pulling plates out of the cupboard while trying to see what he’d gotten.

“What did you get? Chinese?” Looking up at him with a raised brow, Taehyung’s heart stutters for a moment at just how pretty you are. There’s not a trace of makeup on your face right now, you didn’t bother when you were at home, and yet you were still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Like him, you were also a hybrid. The two of you had met in the first class of freshman year in college and had quickly become best friends, despite the differences between you both. He’d also fallen deeply in love with you at some point, even though he knew nothing could happen.

Just as he was driven by the instinct to have sex with multiple women to form a herd, you were driven by your instincts. Only yours were dictated by your lovebird genetics, which meant that you were strictly monogamous. As in, once you entered a relationship and truly fell in love with them then you would never have another relationship.

The antithesis of a horse hybrid then. Taehyung had long known that it meant he would never be able to be with you the way he wanted. You craved monogamy and it simply wasn’t in his genes.

So he’d stayed your best friend, and for the last five years since finishing college, he’d also remained your roommate. The two of you shared a mid-sized apartment in the city centre, close to the university that you worked at as a music professor and within easy driving distance of his workplace.

“No, there’s a new Ethiopian place that’s opened close to work. Seokjin was telling me about it it’s a vegan restaurant and I thought it’d be cool to try it out. No idea what you’d like, or what I’d like, so I just got a bunch of things to try.” Smiling at you, he starts to pull out the carefully packaged food and chuckles as you ‘ooh’ at it all.

“Oooh, I’ve never had Ethiopian food before. I’m excited.” And then you turn that blinding smile onto him and he has to let out a deep breath as slowly as possible to stop himself from doing something silly. He’s long been used to his feelings yet you still make him feel like a teenager again.

Once everything’s out, the two of you take it over to the little table that’s set up between the kitchen and the living room and lay it all out. You quickly dart over to the fridge and grab some water for the two of you before settling down and humming in excitement as everything is unpackaged.

Like Taehyung, you didn’t have many physical attributes of your animal side. Which would have been exceptionally strange given the difference between humans and birds. What you did have though, were black irises to match your pupils and the most exquisitely beautifully coloured hair. The front was a blend of peach, yellow and red which slowly morphed into the familiar lovebird green.

It was all-natural and incredibly pretty, suiting your face and personality so well. The original purpose of lovebird hybrids had been as companions due to their loyalty to their partner alongside musical pursuits. Not everyone was great at music but more often than not, lovebird hybrids tended to excel at singing.

Taehyung loved to hear you sing. Or play the piano or any of the other instruments you’d learnt how to play over the years. You were practically a prodigy when it came to the musical arts and he would forever be in awe of just how talented you were.

Your singing was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you so quickly; your buoyant and always effervescent personality had made him determined to befriend the sweet lovebird hybrid in his class. But it was your singing that had truly captured his heart.

The sweet sound of your voice could be as light as a dandelion seed on a summer breeze or swell as loud and strong as a hurricane. He’d been immediately fascinated the moment he’d first heard you sing and it had never let him go. Taehyung genuinely couldn’t imagine his life anymore without hearing your singing around the apartment; from the quiet songs when you were concentrating to the ones you belted out when you were in a happy mood.

He loved it all. As cheesy as it would sound, he just knew that his life would be dull and quiet without his music-obsessed, colourful, chatty best friend. Which was why he couldn’t give up the small hope of something with you. It was a tiny chance, but as long as you remained unattached then it was there all the same and he would grab onto it tightly.

“Did your shoot go well today?” You distract him out of his wayward thoughts with your question and it takes a few seconds of it to truly penetrate his mind and for him to understand. Almost immediately though, it causes him to twist his lips as he begins to spoon out the food he wants from the containers onto his injera, Ethiopian flatbread, that covers his plate. He hated talking about his job to you. It was like a reminder of what he couldn’t have every time.

But he was a big boy, so he took in a deep breath before looking back at you and giving you his trademark boxy smile.

“It went okay, nothing went wrong which is always a good thing. Wheein was nice and very pleasant to work with, good at her job. The script was just as bad as I originally thought.” Snorting at the memory, he takes a mouthful of food and chews thoughtfully as he takes in the new flavours.

“Let me guess...full of lots of over-the-top horse innuendos and dirty talk?” Chuckling to yourself, you take a drink of cold water before tilting to your head to look him over carefully. Taehyung pauses, unsure of himself for a second before quirking his brow at you.

“Yeah, something like that. I shouldn’t be complaining really...no one watches what I make for the dialogue.” He’s very aware that there’s a slight pout to his lips as he looks back down at his plate, missing the way your expression changes to one of sympathy and protectiveness.

“Well...true I guess, but you’re a great actor outside of that. And I’m not just saying that to you because you’re my best friend TaeTae. You’re genuinely good.” Now he does look at you, taking in the way you look at him with concern and he feels a flare of guilt rise in his stomach. Taehyung would never let you know that the only reason he’d started to work in the pornography industry during college was so that he could satiate his desires without dating multiple women or accidentally creating a herd.

The fact that he was still doing it, seven years after beginning, was because he still held out hope. He knew that he could’ve been something better, entered the world of television or film acting, maybe even theatre. But it would have meant having to flaunt an unending trail of women in front of you.

At least he had a valid and acceptable reason for fucking so many women as a pornstar. The fact that he had no emotional connection to the women who worked alongside him now was a bonus, allowing you to see that he was more than capable of leaving his work in the studio.

Giving you a tight smile, Taehyung nods his head in appreciation. “Thanks, chirp. I appreciate it. And I know, but I think it’s too late now. Too old, you know?”

“Pfft, no way. There are loads of actors who didn’t start their careers until they were older! And no offence, but you’re a guy so you’ve got the kind of lifespan that most women aren’t allowed. You’re only twenty-nine!” The outraged response from you is almost immediate, the piece of injera almost flying out of your hand at your reaction.

Thankfully, you’d just eaten the vegetable wat that you’d scooped up already so there wasn’t any risk of the floor or wall being decorated with Ethiopian stew. That would just be a waste of some good food in Taehyung’s opinion.

But that was irrelevant.

What was relevant was your vehement defence of Taehyung and his talents. The two of you had had this conversation many times over the years and yet it never failed to make him smile. You were adamant he could do better and he knew that he could too. But he didn’t want to. Despite how good his acting was, he had no real interest in actually taking it up as a career outside of porn.

He didn’t care for the lifestyle or travelling or fame. Porn worked well for him at the moment. It satisfied his instincts, it paid well enough and he had a manager that ensured Taehyung only received the best directors, co-stars and films.

What Taehyung would love to do, was to work in fashion design. He loved putting together interesting and unique looks while also thinking up ideas for clothes. His best friend, Jimin, had started a clothing brand of his own a few years ago thanks to the money his parents had loaned him. It was doing pretty well so far and Jimin was constantly sad that Taehyung wouldn’t join him.

The older man, he was only two months older but that meant everything to Park Jimin, had tried everything he could think of to lure his best friend into his company. From offering a creative director role to his sub-brand that would operate almost independently from the parent brand, Calico. And Taehyung had promised him that he’d accept one day.

He would as well. Just not yet. It wasn’t time yet.

“Thanks. Anyway, how was your day? Didn’t you say you had some exams this morning or something?” His segue into another conversation works like a charm and you happily begin to complain about the exams that you’d given your freshman students today. It still boggled his mind that you’d willingly insert yourself into college life again, even if it was in a teaching role but you seemed to thrive in the social aspect of it all.

The two of you continue to talk until there’s no food left, every single piece happily was eaten. Admittedly, most of it was eaten by Taehyung as he had a far larger appetite than you did. It was even bigger today given the workout he’d done during his work hours but you’d been content to hand over what you didn’t want to eat anymore.

Or rather, you’d been content to feed him what you didn’t want. Something he’d had to get used to very early on in his friendship with you was that you retained the instinct to feed those you were close to. That’s what you’d told him anyway, though if he was to be entirely honest he hadn’t seen you feed anyone else before.

Then again, none of the friends you both shared in common was the kind of people who would accept being fed, no matter how much they liked you.

It’s a few hours later that you’re both ready to go to bed; eyes sleepy and movements slow after watching three episodes of The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina while curled up beneath the couch blanket as you both digest your food. Taehyung could have happily fallen asleep where he was, the warmth of you not close enough for him to feel but your scent strong enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

“I’m going to bed.” You say loudly, causing him to jerk awake quickly as you push the blanket off your body and stand up. It’s not as quick as you’d normally be but the stretch you give combined with the extraordinarily big yawn lets him know you’re pretty tired.

Not a surprise. It was after 11 pm now and you’d been up since 5:30 am to make sure you had everything set for your classes. A slight wobble as you lose your balance causes him to jump up, resting a hand on the small of your back gently to provide careful assistance while he reaches for the remote with his other to turn off the television.

“Careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Taehyung chuckles, kicking away the blanket which had also become tangled around your feet. A quiet hum from you lets him know that you’re more tired than he’d initially thought.

Not saying anything more, he runs his free hand through the pale blonde strands of his hair as he directs you towards your bedroom. The door is closed to the outside world, unlike his, but the interior is familiar to him once you open it up.

One of the habits you had that came from your lovebird side was that you liked to nest. Which meant your bedroom had everything you loved arranged exactly how you wanted it. Your bed was a canopy style, completely cocooned away from the world except for the entrance. He’d been in once or twice to wake you up when you’d been late for something and he would admit to being fascinated by just how dark and...comfy it all looked.

Soft sheets, multiple fluffy pillows and more covered the top of your bed. He’d love to see what it was like to sleep in it one night because it looked like it could easily be one of the comfiest nights of sleep he’s ever had. A bonus would be if you slept next to him.

One of the more fortunate, or unfortunate depending on how you looked at it, aspects of his heritage was that Taehyung could sleep anywhere. He’d even been known to sleep standing up, which meant that he wasn’t that bothered about what his sleeping space looked like.

Taehyung knew it was something of an honour for him to be even allowed in your bedroom, to be honest, given how protective and territorial you got over your own space. It had been amusing for him to realise this at first, particularly given he wasn’t particularly bothered when it came to his own physical space but upon realising you wouldn’t let anyone else in, he’d used it as a badge of pride.

To himself, of course. No one else would care or even be surprised that your best friend and roommate was the only person allowed in.

Shaking his head, he wishes you goodnight before closing your door quietly and heading to the bathroom for his nightly ritual. The downside to being a porn actor was that he had to follow a proper skincare routine to make sure his skin looked the best. Because obviously, people were paying attention to his beautiful face instead of his massive dick.

Not.

Still, it helped to book more shoots. He had a ‘statuesque’ face that appealed to women or something. So he went along with it and had, admittedly, fantastic skin as a result.

The last thought before he finally fell asleep was that he was pretty sure the oversized black sweatpants you’d been wearing were his.

Taehyung doesn’t get to see a whole lot of you in the next few weeks. He’d ended up having to travel for a shoot that lasted a week and by the time he got back, you were on a much-needed vacation with your friends. As such, he was getting a little grumpy at the lack of interaction with you.

Which was entirely the reason that he’d almost jumped on top of you when you’d finally walked through the apartment door; three long weeks after seeing you last. You’d let him know that you’d be coming home today and he’d had to wait as patiently as he could on the couch, pouting at the fact you hadn’t accepted his offer of going to the airport to meet you.

But with everything in the apartment turned off, he’d used his superior hearing to the best of his abilities and had listened as hard as possible for your footsteps. After so many years, he knew exactly what you sounded like when you walked.

So when he finally heard that familiar beat, alongside the rolling of the wheels on your suitcase, he’d leapt up. There may even be a hole in the wall from how forcefully he’d yanked the door open, his excitement causing him to not pay attention to his strength for a moment before he’s giving you the biggest and brightest grin he possibly can.

“I missed youuuuuu!” Whining loudly, Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist and lifts. The squeal you let out soon dissolves into laughter when he spins you around, mentally marvelling once more at how light you were while his sense went haywire with you so close again. He could feel the softness of your hips as he lets you down, smell the soft peach of your shampoo along with the slight hint of sweat after so long travelling.

It was perfect, and something deep within him relaxed.

You were home. You were safe.

“I missed you too, Tae! Can I please actually come in?” Your laughter is sweet, infectious as always and he stands to the side to let you enter the apartment. Without even asking, he gently takes the handle of your suitcase from you and lifts it with no complaints, heading over to your bedroom.

Given he’s not facing you anymore, he doesn’t see the way you practically swoon at the sight of him using his strength so casually. Or the way you almost drool at his broad shoulders in the plain white shirt he’d thrown on today, the muscles working in a way that made your hands twitch.

“Did you have a good time? Please tell me that Yeji doesn’t have some embarrassing story again this year,” While your yearly vacations with your friends were mostly for sunbathing and catching up, he knew that you all enjoyed re-enacting some college years and that copious amounts of alcohol were drunk. “And I’m not saying about you, I mean just embarrassing full stop. I’m still feeling secondary embarrassment over two years ago.”

“A story which will forever remain buried, thank you very much. But no, we were good this year. Or rather, we weren’t good but I think we’re starting to get a little too old to be drinking so heavily, you know? We can’t recuperate the same way and I get hangovers way too easily. I do not have the physiology to cope with their drinking levels!” There’s a slight whine to your voice, making him smile in amusement as he moves over to lean against the doorway of your room.

While he was fully welcome into your space, he knew that you liked it to be your own. Especially when you’d been away for a while.

“Well, I mean...you are a lovebird. I don’t think there are many alcohol-tolerant birds out there.” That gets him a subtle glare, your pretty lips puckered into a pout. It’s an innocent action, something that shouldn’t bother him in the slightest, and yet his heart stutters and his stomach twists on itself.

What he wouldn’t give to kiss you.

Shaking his head, he tries to force the thoughts out of his mind. Honestly, he was perfectly fine when he was away from you. But when you were around, it was like you were all he could think about. Still, it was hard not to when you looked at him so fondly.

“True. There’s no need to point that out though. Salt in the wound much? Anyway, it was fun. They kept trying to get me to swim in the sea but like...no thank you. Water is for drinking and washing, not for swimming around in.” You’re crouched down, unzipping your suitcase and pulling out the dirty clothes before separating them into the individual bins you have.

Unlike Taehyung, who simply separated his clothes when it came time to wash them, you were very tidy and had bought fancy clothes hamper with three sections. This was probably why Taehyung would accidentally end up with a shrunken shirt or pink underwear from time to time. You paid far more attention to that stuff.

“Swimming is fun though.” Is all he responds with, standing back when you carry the laundry hampers past him. Putting the colours into the washing machine, he watches quietly as you add everything before turning it on. It was fascinating how you’d only been home for less than ten minutes and yet you were already cleaning things up.

Not that he’d made the apartment untidy or anything. It’s just you had a different idea of what was clean to him.

“Okay but, you can say that because you’ve got those shoulders to cut through the water. Not to mention you’re strong anyway. Not so fun for the rest of us. And I don’t mind swimming in a pool. Where I can see the bottom and the size is posted. The ocean though? That’s huge. No thanks.” Smirking, he flops down onto the couch and sighs happily when you push him up before sitting down yourself, letting him rest his head on your thighs.

There was no convincing you though and Tae gave up on the argument pretty quickly, not that he was trying too hard. One thing he’d learnt long ago was that you were perhaps the most stubborn person he’d ever known. It was an endearing trait, most of the time.

“Did you audition for that role?” Your question is innocent, soft fingers trailing through his hair that would have him purring if he was a cat hybrid. Instead, it was just making him get the urge to groom you in turn, his fingers twitching with the need. Ignoring it, he forced himself to just enjoy the touch.

“Yeah. Not sure if I’ve got it though. I got the feeling they weren’t looking for someone like me in the role.” It wasn’t surprising really and he wasn’t offended by the producers of the film he’d gone for. Even porn wanted specific people for specific roles sometimes; it would be silly to think he could get every role he went for.

Not to mention exhausting.

“Well, they’re missing out then,” You say, scratching his scalp until he hums in delight. “Anyone who doesn’t want you is missing out.”

Your words make his heart jump, his breath stuttering as he inhales and wonders if there’s a double meaning to that. But you’re too busy watching the show that you’ve started on Netflix to notice Taehyung’s existential dilemma. Part of him is glad, but there’s another part that wishes he was brave enough to bring it up.

He chooses not to engage with it though, instead just sighing and letting himself relax into the cushions of the couch. It’s nice to be surrounded by your scent once more and to feel your warmth.

“I appreciate that, Chirp. But I’m not letting it get me down. Sometimes they just can’t handle all this.” Gesturing half-heartedly to his body, he’s pleased to hear you laugh at his joke. The sound is sweet, even if the two of you lapse into a comfortable silence after that.

You’re too busy watching your show while he’s half dozing off, eyes closed and breath getting deeper as he starts to drift away. It’s comfortable on the couch, with the temperature just right and his body perfectly relaxed. Which means it’s unsurprising that he falls asleep pretty quickly, completely unaware of anything that’s happening around him as he sleeps.

Taehyung is more than a little disoriented when he finally awakens; the room dark and silent with the lights and television switched off. Frowning, he blinks rapidly before rubbing at his eyes with a hand while sitting up. Stretching his arms out above his head, the groan he lets out is one of relief as stiff muscles relax and a few bones crack.

Reaching out to the coffee table blindly, he grabs his phone and winces when the bright light almost blinds him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been hugely blessed with the better night sight horses had. Well, he could see better than humans but nothing amazing. Didn’t make it any better when he was subjected to bright light suddenly though.

“Ah, fuck.” He curses, squinting until he can finally focus on the screen. It’s not too late, but it’s a good two hours or so since you’d finally gotten home. Frowning, he just sits there for a moment as his mind finally catches up with the fact he is awake.

Yawning loudly, he finally pulls himself up and decides he should probably go shower before collapsing into bed. Taehyung hadn’t even realised he was tired, but it could have been the comfort of knowing you were back and safe. It wasn’t like he was some over-protective asshole who needed to know your every movement - more that he just felt more content when he knew you were okay.

Walking to his room, he’s scratching at his exposed stomach lazily when he hears the sound of your voice. The door leading to your bedroom is firmly closed but there’s light at the gap on the bottom. His enhanced hearing means that he can easily hear everything you’re saying, which is nothing new.

Over the years though, he’s learnt to carefully block out anything you’re saying when you’re in your room. You deserved your privacy, even if he couldn’t help the fact that he could hear everything perfectly.

And that would have been exactly what he would have done right now. Just carried on through to his bedroom and continued with his plans. Only he can’t help but stop when he hears the familiar syllables of his name. Taehyung knows it’s wrong, but the way you said it is different than normal.

He can’t help but listen, expression curious and his head tilting without even realising it. Your conversation is one-sided but he pays careful attention, still in the middle of the hallway.

“-you know Taehyung, he’s always being attentive and sweet. It’s just his nature, he’s like that with everyone. Yuna...it’s just Tae. He hugs everyone, you’re looking too much into it,” There’s a longer pause now, presumably your best friend talking extensively to you. “Come on, isn’t that what you always tell me? We haven’t seen each other in a while, it’s not surprising he got all touchy.”

Taehyung frowns, lips twisting as he begins to understand a little. Or at least, he thinks he does. If he’s right, Yuna thinks that he likes you. His cheeks heat up as he realises how obvious he’d been with his feelings, even though you make a good argument against it. But you’re wrong and Yuna is very much right.

He does like you, and he’s not quite as touchy-feely with everyone else. Taehyung isn’t even sure how you got that opinion. The only other person he’s remotely as affectionate with is Jimin, and that’s only because he’s known the calico cat hybrid since they were babies. Tae’s mom had worked with Jimin’s mom for decades now, which meant they’d grown up with each other.

“Yuna,” Your whining now, voice going high pitched and your words getting longer. “I thought you were the one who was telling me that I need to get over Tae! And now you’re telling me he’s obviously into me? Make up your mind, woman! Do you want me to ignore my feelings for him or consider telling him? And no, you can’t backtrack in a week or so like you always do. This is serious. I’d be humiliating myself by telling him.”

It’s almost like the world has paused around Taehyung. For a second, he almost feels dizzy and has to rest a palm against the wall as he sways. Your feelings...for him? Did he hear that right? Was he twisting your words into what he hoped you were implying?

Before he can contemplate it anymore in his mind, you go on to say something that shatters the norm for Taehyung.

“It would be humiliating Yuna, you know that. You know what I am, we’ve talked about this. God, I can’t tell Taehyung I love him because then that’s it, I’ve sealed my fate and I won’t be able to get over him. It’s already hard just trying. Having him know? I can’t, not when he can’t give me what I want.” There’s a pain in your voice and his heart twists, stomach bubbling in a way that almost makes him want to vomit as his world changes.

You love him. You. Love. Him.

“It’s not his fault Yuna, we’ve gone through this so many times. I have my instincts and he has his, I’m not going to get angry at something we can’t change. Please...can we just talk about something else? Something that’s not going to make me cry and spend all night thinking? We agreed that we’d try to get me over this, dammit.”

That’s the last thing Taehyung hears as he walks quickly back to his room, having decided that he’s heard far too much of a conversation he clearly shouldn’t have heard. Guilt roils in him, flooding his veins as he flops down onto his bed and stares at the white ceiling of his room. He feels dazed and confused, not sure what he’s meant to think about this sudden change in events.

Taehyung being in love with you was something he’d long ago accepted. But he’d also accepted that nothing would happen from it because of what you wanted in life. Finding out that you wanted him too was game-changing. It was also heartbreaking to know that the only reason you both weren’t together already was because of his instincts.

Suddenly, he sees his career in a whole new light. What was a coping mechanism for him to reduce his innate desires and allow him to give you all the best bits of himself, was probably pure pain for you. The knowledge that you loved him was both exciting and, surprisingly, horrifying.

He knew that love birds would only have one partner, and from what he’d read over the years it meant they only really truly loved one person. If you felt this strongly for Taehyung then did that mean he’d stolen any other choices from you? He’d been holding back to make sure you had a chance to be happy but had he just made it worse?

Swallowing thickly, Taehyung realises there are tears in his eyes as he wonders if he’s ruined everything. The logical part of his mind knows that it’s not his fault if you’ve fallen in love with him, just like it wasn’t your fault he’d fallen for you. But he certainly hadn’t done anything to truly push you away, to try and get you to find someone else to fall in love with and enjoy a happy life.

Had he been selfish?

Rolling onto his stomach, he buries his head into his pillow and lets out a yell. It’s a good job your hearing is only on the level of a normal human because he was positive the extended noise he made would have brought you running otherwise. And he needed to think right now.

There’s probably a solid ten minutes of silence in his room as he lays there, unmoving while his mind races through all his options. If he admitted that he’d overheard you, then he would probably embarrass you. Taehyung would jump at the chance to finally date you, but he knew that you wouldn’t be able to cope with his career.

You were supportive of him now, but you weren’t in a romantic relationship with him. And he doubted you would be comfortable with the knowledge that he was coming home to kiss, cuddle and have sex with you after having done the same things with random women earlier in the day.

If he was honest with himself then Taehyung knew that he wouldn’t be happy with that too. Despite how he was raised, his mom had been one of many mares in the herd his father had kept over the years, he wanted to be the one for you. Which meant he wouldn’t be content to do things with other women that you only wanted to be done.

He wanted the traditional relationship that many horse hybrids would wrinkle their nose at.

So, he had to figure out how to navigate that.

Lifting himself, he grabs his phone and opens up Google. Taehyung didn’t know many horse hybrid’s who wanted to have a monogamous relationship, but he had met a few over the years. Racking his brain, he tries to remember what they had talked about when he’d queried how they could cope with only being with one partner for life.

Despite his interest in the topic, he’d been young at the time and had still very much enjoyed sleeping with as many women as he could. His feelings for you hadn’t quite become what they were today, so he hadn’t listened too intently. Taehyung regretted that now. Tapping his lips for a moment, he contemplates what to write before he begins to type his request into the search engine.

Horse hybrid hormone inhibitors.

It’s three weeks later when Taehyung finally feels comfortable and knowledgeable enough to make a move. He’d made an appointment with his doctor the very next day after overhearing your conversation. He specialised in hybrid care, in particular those for equine hybrids like Taehyung along with the rare donkey or zebra.

Which meant he wasn’t all that shocked at Taehyung’s unusual enquiry. He probably got the occasional query from an equine hybrid about how to be monogamous. It was rare but not unheard of after all. What had shocked him though, was the fact that it was Taehyung asking it.

Kim Taehyung, the infamous porn star who had built a living on his ability to fuck his way through multiple women on camera. Who had his damn fanbase based almost purely on his cock for god’s sake? It was embarrassing to think about, but he’d known what he was getting into when he’d signed the contract in the first place.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy his job because he did. Taehyung hated that he did, but the sex with many women helped to alleviate all those deeply held instincts and urges within him. Still, now that he knew about you he had no intention of carrying on with his career. Not when he had a chance.

Which was why he’d admitted his feelings towards you to the doctor. Something he’d never thought he’d end up doing, but once everything was out in the open then his doctor was far more understanding of Taehyung’s request. Even encouraging of it. Taehyung was pretty sure that he found the whole story a little sweet and romantic.

Either way, they’d worked out a plan for him to make his life easier if you accepted him. Medications that he would need to take to reduce the overwhelming instincts that drive his hybrid nature and would allow him to engage in monogamy. The idea of that was unbelievably exciting and he’d begun to take his medication only days after the appointment.

After that, he’d gotten together with Jimin. Their weekly hangout usually occurred in a bar, a restaurant or sometimes just hanging around one of their apartments. His best friend had shrieked with delight when Taehyung had explained his predicament and what he was doing to go forward with.

Which had led him to finally asking Jimin if that job offer was still on the plate if everything went right. Taehyung wanted to finally pursue his dream of being a fashion designer and it was so tantalisingly close. He was on the verge of finally having the life he’d always wanted. Hopefully with you.

The first week of being on the medication, which reduced the high levels of testosterone he produced and helped to inhibit his base reactions, had been rough as hell. Taehyung had been on the verge of calling in sick for the first time to a shoot, his body struggling to cope with the change in his body. But he’d pushed through and two weeks later, here he was.

Nervous as fuck and waiting for you to finally come home.

Everything all depended on if you’d accept his request to start a relationship. A serious, romantic relationship that was entirely monogamous. If you said yes, then he had a lawyer all set up to break his contract and a contract just waiting for him with Jimin.

Although really, he’d be quitting his job no matter what happened. He was tired of the porn scene, even if he’d met some wonderfully kind and talented people there. Taehyung had finally decided that he would be moving on with his life and accepting the job with Jimin.

It was up to you whether you wanted to be alongside him, and in what capacity.

The pizza he’d ordered for you both arrived at the same time you came home; a large box of vegetable pizza held in your hands and amusement in your pretty eyes. It makes him smile brightly to see you happy, knowing that you’re pleased he’d taken care of dinner tonight. Especially as it was from your favourite pizzeria; six different kinds of cheeses combined with peppers, onions, eggplant, tomatoes and spinach.

Your favourite kind of pizza, alongside a bottle of red wine that he’d already filled a glass with to let it breathe. The amusement soon turns to suspicion, your brow rising as you kick off your shoes and shrug off your coat.

“What’s all this about?” Gesturing at everything, you settle onto the couch next to him with your legs curled up beneath you. Taehyung bites his lip, sighing softly before reaching out and opening up the box. He doesn’t explain for a few minutes, just letting you both eat a slice of pizza while he watches his beer on the table.

He felt like a teenager, his stomach fizzing with a combination of excitement and nerves that almost makes him feel nauseous. Maybe he shouldn’t be eating right now, but he hasn’t been able to eat all day so far. There would be no use in making himself ill. It would be mortifying for him to throw up all over you.

By the time you’ve eaten two slices, Taehyung has only managed one. But he’s decided that he’s waited long enough. It’s time.

Taking in a deep breath, he lets it out slowly before clearing his throat. After so many years of being friends, he knows that he can talk to you about anything. There are many memories that he’d much rather forget that you’d seen of him, such as that awkward time when he’d had an upset stomach and hadn’t been able to get to the bathroom quick enough.

Not his finest moment and you’d gagged more than once but hey, it was all a bonding experience. Right? Or was that just his opinion on it?

Still, Taehyung found himself pausing; his words sticking in his throat even as he mentally told himself to pull it together. You’d seen all his low points and his highpoints, he did not doubt that you would treat his question with the respect it deserves. But it was still a worry that you might turn him down.

Maybe you’d finally found someone else and wouldn’t want him anymore. The thought made his chest hurt, but he had to know. He had to get the answer to the question that had burned in his thoughts for years now. If you rejected him then he’d be hurt but he’d get over it, especially if it meant you found your happiness.

So why was it so hard to get the words out?

“Hey, are you okay?” Your shoulder bumps into his, pretty face dipping low to catch his eyes. He should have known that you would have realised there was something wrong, or that he wasn’t quite being himself. The way you look at him with such worry and concern makes his anxiety melt away, causing him to smile before he nods.

“I have something to ask you. I mean...you can say no. Please don’t worry about that, if you don’t want to then tell me no. I’ll accept it, I promise. You know I’d never try to force you, right?” He winces, realising that he’s messing this up already given the way your brow creases in confusion. “I mean, god I’m fucking this up. I’m sorry. I just...I have to be honest with you. I accidentally overheard your conversation the other month. I didn’t mean to, it was when you’d come home after your vacation and I’d fallen asleep so I was going back to my room and I overheard you.”

Taehyung is babbling, and he realises that when you gently press a finger to his lips. It would be nice to say that you didn’t look bothered, but there was fear on your face that made him feel sick.

“I believe you.”

Your words are so soft and he almost hums in delight as you run your fingers through his hair, grooming him without even realising. It makes him smile, both at your steadfast belief in him and how you always want to be touching and cleaning him in some way. His fingers itched with the desire to groom you in turn.

He restrained himself, fully aware that if he did then it’d just end up being one half an hour of you both trying to clean each other. The perils of two social hybrids who both have a culture and instinct for grooming. Not what he wanted right now.

The reassurance you give him, combined with the unwavering belief in your eyes, convinces him to just say it. To just get it out and lay his cards on the table. He was nervous, sure, but he’d been nervous many times in his life and he’d overcome all of those moments.

“I heard you say that you like me. In a romantic way. I was really surprised at hearing it, mainly because I didn’t think you’d ever looked at me that way before. Not when I’m the opposite of what you’d want in terms of a relationship. But I want you to know that hearing it made me the happiest I’ve been in a while. Because I like you too. And I have done for a while now. Years.” He says it all with a carefully neutral face, watching you carefully to see if he can gauge your reaction.

For a moment, your expression is a perfect picture in neutrality. The Switzerland of faces, giving nothing away and not letting him see anything that’s going on in your head. It’s frustrating for him when he’s probably feeling too much, but he doesn’t push. Just waits to see what you’ll say.

“What?”

Okay, so perhaps not the eloquent acceptance of his feelings that he’d expected. But it’s not an outright rejection. He can work with this, there’s potential here.

Licking his lips, he takes a deep breath before carefully shifting until he’s facing you on the couch. Your eyes are so wide, shining in the light and making him think it looks like you hold the secrets of the universe deep within. He can’t help but smile at it, at how young and innocent you look.

Smile at the tentative hope he thinks he can spy.

“I like you, Chirp. Like, like you. Probably would use a stronger word if I wasn’t already afraid I’m scaring you away. I know that I’m not what you’d want in a partner, which is why I’ve never made a move over the years. But I’ve always hoped, which is why I never got a herd of my own,

“I love being around you, I love hearing you sing and laugh, I love talking to you, I love hearing you talk to others, I love how you’re so affectionate and always want to groom me along with chatting my ears off. I never said anything though, because most of all, I valued our friendship. And I knew that you wanted someone who could be your life-partner, something I wasn’t sure if I could be.” Taehyung pauses, twisting his lips before looking down at his hands.

“But then I heard you talking and I realised that there might be a possibility. A small one maybe, but I knew I had to at last try. Something I want you to know though is that everything I’m about to tell you that I’ve done has been done for myself because I finally realised that I have to move forward with my life. So, firstly, I talked to my doctor and I’ve started some medication that helps to inhibit my instincts when it comes to relationships and sex.” Pausing, he eyes you to gauge how you’re taking the news.

The head tilt you give is very birdlike, causing him to chuckle without even meaning to. He can’t help it though, not when you look so sweet right then with your bright hair and big eyes.

“I don’t have the urge to have sex with lots of women or make my herd anymore. We talked about it extensively and decided this would be my best course of action to allow me to have a healthy, monogamous relationship. Because of that, I’ve also quit my job and taken up the offer Jimin’s been giving me for years now.”

Despite the fact he’s mid-confession to you, the excitement in his stomach at that very moment is more to do with the fact he was going to finally have his dream career. That he was going to be doing a job which he’d been wanting to accept for years.

Understandably, his words cause you to suddenly gasp in delight before you’re clapping your hands eagerly. The excitement and happiness are purely for him finally taking proper control of his life, ridding himself of the pornography career that he’d enjoyed but hadn’t loved. Something you’d known for a while now.

“Oh my god? You’re going to work with Jimin?! You took the job! TaeTae, I’m so happy for you!” Even though he’d just admitted to you that he was near enough in love with you, your emotions were purely focused on the fact he’d taken the job. Feeling your approval and genuine joy at his life change, he can’t help but give you a wide, boxy grin even while the apples of his cheeks turn a soft rose.

“Thanks, I think Jimin was more excited than anyone to be honest. Pretty sure he’s already organising a design space for me in his building alongside an office. Makes me feel kind of bad for waiting so long to take him up on it but I feel like I’m finally at a place in my life that I’m truly ready for that career change.” That seems to remind you of what he’d told you earlier, about his medication.

Your elated expression slowly fades and he watches in trepidation as your brow creased, the mood dimming. Were you unhappy with his choice? Taking a deep breath, he holds it for a moment before letting it out slowly.

“I want you to know that there is no pressure on you. For anything. I’m going to continue taking this medication because I want to focus on my new career without having to worry about any urges taking over. The side benefit to it means that...well,” He pauses for a moment. “I can have a proper relationship. Or at least, the kind of relationship that you’d want. If you want that. With me.”

There’s complete silence in the room and Taehyung feels the sudden urge to grab another slice of pizza and start eating. Just for something to do with his hands and to distract himself.

He doesn’t push though, just lets you process what he’s told you. It was a lot, so he wasn’t even particularly expecting an answer tonight. If he were being honest, then he wouldn’t be surprised if you took yourself off to your room for the night. Or even went to one of your friends to talk it over with them.

But as usual, you surprise him. You may be small and dainty compared to him, light as a feather and full of cheer, but your personality has always been big and bold. Which is why you tackle the topic head-on.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear, you know that right?” Is your first question and Taehyung nods quickly, reaching out to encompass your much smaller hand with his own. There’s nothing too familiar about the gesture, just a squeeze of reassurance to let you know he understands and isn’t mad or anything.

“I know. It was entirely my fault. I should’ve carried on as soon as I heard that you were talking but I just heard my name and...well.” He trails off, giving an awkward smile that causes you to smile in return. The gentle pressure on his hand makes him realise that you’re now trying to assuage his fears that you were annoyed.

“Hey, it’s okay. You may not have too many physical features of your animal side but you’ve got plenty of their abilities. We both know that you can’t control the fact that you can hear much better, so I don’t blame you. Nor do I blame you for stopping to listen. Especially when you realised what I was talking about,” Now it’s your turn to look abashed, gaze skittering away from his and down to your still joined hands. “I’d have done the same thing if I heard you talking about me.”

Swallowing, Taehyung wonders how he’s meant to respond to that. He didn’t know what he’d say anyway as his stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies suddenly. Really big, horrible butterflies that are making him feel nauseous.

“So yeah, I’m not angry or annoyed over that. Please don’t worry too much. If anything...I’m kind of glad. Because it means you’ve confronted this head-on and now we both know how we feel about each other. Which is that we like each other. A lot. In case it wasn’t clear, I like you too. Really like you. But I also thought it wouldn’t work because I know what I want and need from my partner in my life and I knew that your instincts clashed with that. Again, not your fault. You can’t deny nature and I tried to make sure that you never felt like I was.” There’s a hint of something in your voice but Taehyung can’t figure it out.

Pain? Embarrassment? Worry?

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get a chance to query it because you forge on. The sweet lovebird he’d known for years seems to be wavering between shyness at talking about your feelings and determination to have everything laid out.

He can understand the feeling.

“You know, I’ve fantasised about this for years, but now that it’s happening-”

“You don’t know how to communicate what you’re feeling and it’s all way more awkward and not nearly as romantic or sexy as you’d imagined?” Taehyung finishes for you, biting his lip as he grins broadly. You snort in amusement before nodding, playing with his fingers for a minute or so as you try to rationalise it all in your head.

“Did you go on whatever that medication is...for me? Like...because you wanted a relationship? With me? I know you’ve said it’s also because you wanted a career doing something you’ve always wanted but…” Trailing off, you can’t seem to look him in the eyes.

Carefully, he uses his free hand to lift your chin until he can see you. There’s a brief moment where you try to avoid his gaze before you give in, staring back just as deeply. Nerves, fear and hope are warring within him and he imagines that he can see it reflected in your own eyes.

“I’m not going to say no because overhearing your conversation was what spurred me to talk to my doctor. Finding out that you liked me back and that I might have a chance with you made me want to try to make sure you get the best of me. I knew that there are horse hybrids out there who have monogamous relationships and who are happy, but I didn’t think that would be a possibility for me. And given what I was doing for my career, I thought it was just better to carry on as I was,

“But then when I was talking to him about it all, I realised that it would help me in other aspects of my life too. Yes, I could finally offer you the kind of relationship that you want and that I want to have with you, but it would also let me leave behind the porn and start focusing on what I want to do. You know that I’ve never really been one of those stallions who wants a herd and the porn helped me to get rid of those urges without giving in to them properly. I looked into it for you, but I took it for me.” Licking his lips, Taehyung realises that he feels lighter.

Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he realises it’s because of what he’d told you. He’d been convinced that he was doing this to have a chance with you in the way he’d always dreamed of, but it was startling to realise that it was having such a positive effect in the rest of his life. For once, he was no slave to his instincts and had full control over himself, his emotions and his desires.

Just the thought of never having to do another film filled him with joy and happiness.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to have changed yourself for me. But given that you have...what does it mean? Tell me.” Those pretty eyes, so big and wide, watch him intently and he gives a small half-smile as he shrugs with one shoulder.

“I mean...it’s basically like an inhibitor I guess? Reduces the amount of testosterone I produce, makes me less reactive to the scent of mares in heat and all that. There’s a whole bunch of medical stuff that I don’t understand but I just know what the doctor told me. It’s safe, it’s been tested many times before, and if things don’t work out, then I can come off them and be back to my old self. It just means that I won’t have the desire to have a herd or to...well sleep with multiple women, you know? Let’s be monogamous, a one-woman man. Finally.” Chuckling to himself, he runs his fingers through his pale hair so it’s out of his eyes.

“So...we could be together? Like...in a relationship? Just me and you?”

“Yeah. The doctor said that as long as I’m on the medication then I’ll be like any other human or hybrid who doesn’t have a poly instinct. Not that there’s anything wrong with that obviously, but it means we can be together. In the future, if you want to be in a relationship or something...then if we decide to have kids or to not have them, I can get gelded and that’ll get rid of the instincts permanently.” Now your eyes widen in horror, hand covering your mouth as you gasp loudly.

“Gelded? They’d castrate you?” There’s a glance down from his face to his groin from you and he can’t help but laugh at the thought. Even if it does make him want to cup his balls protectively.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! It’s okay! It’s just a vasectomy. Because I’m a stallion, it’s called being gelded. After that, I’d be officially known as a gelding. No longer able to have babies and with no real instinct to make my herd anymore.” Thankfully you look relieved at that and he wants to tease you about being so worried about his testicles. But instead, he just feels happy that you don’t tease him in turn about talking about potential babies already.

That’s a good sign.

“Okay. Okay...so, let’s think about this logically. I mean, is that being too cold? You admit that you like me back and you’re on medication to allow us to be in a relationship and I’m saying we need to think logically?” Taehyung pauses you with a finger to your lips, a smile on his own before he carefully wraps his arms around your shoulders.

He makes sure to give you plenty of time to make sure that you can pull away if you want to if you’re not comfortable with this, but you don’t. Instead, you almost seem to relax into him and link your arms around his waist. You can probably feel his heart beating through his chest, the muscle working extra hard while he feels a little breathless.

It’s not the first time he’s held you, but it feels different this time. There’s something more intimate about it and he can’t help but take a deep breath in, enjoying your scent.

“It’s fine. I’m kind of glad because I’ve made a complete mess of explaining myself here. So at least one of us can think more logically about it.”

“You didn’t do a terrible job. I mean...I’m certainly not going to vote for you or anything but it wasn’t bad. My question to you then...are we dating now?” And just like that, Taehyung’s breath is taken away. To the point, he almost chokes on his spit and ends up having a coughing fit.

Directly into your face, ruining any hint of romance.

Yep, he’d truly fucked this confession up. Taehyung was just lucky that you’d known him for so long that it just made your nose wrinkle as you wiped at your face with your shirt, grumbling lightly before pushing his shoulder.

“Gross.”

“Sorry! I wasn’t expecting that though! I mean, you just straight up asked. I was expecting like...more talking and exchanging feelings. More awkwardness.” Leaning away from him, you give him a very droll stare that makes him wince. Well, at least it was awkward now.

“Sorry for not living up to those weird expectations I guess? I just figure that we’ve spent long enough dancing around each other, right? I don’t want to waste any more time or have any more miscommunication so if it’s too abrupt for you then I’m still not sorry. I like you, Kim Taehyung. And given what you’ve told me, and what you’ve done for me, I want to finally have that relationship I’ve been wanting for so many years.” The authoritative tone in your voice is more attractive than he’d expected, causing his brow to rise.

Feisty.

“Okay. Yes. Yes, we’re dating. Together. We’re together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. I need to shut up.” Clamming up, he forces his mouth to shut and for his muscles to remain still. In reality, he wants to jump for joy and scream out that this was happening. Even if part of him is embarrassed that he’s incapable of talking now.

It’s all worth it though when you give him a huge smile, so big and bright and full of happiness.

“You’re cute, you know that?” Now he’s blushing; cheeks high and a delightful rose as he tries to contain his smile. He’s supposed to be cool, the epitome of an educated man who is extremely experienced around women. And yet here he is, acting like a teenager getting his first girlfriend.

“Not what I normally get called.” You’re the one who looks a little shy at that, your eyes darting away from his as you bite at your lip. There’s a hint of nerves to you now and something else, something he can’t quite figure out. The way you wiggle slightly in place has him frowning in confusion, wondering what’s made you suddenly so quiet. This was the behaviour he’d been expecting from you, so it felt a relief to finally get it but also strange given how confident you’d been.

“What’s wrong? Where’s my bold girlfriend gone?” Gently poking your waist, he tries to ignore the thrill that rises inside him when he calls you that. It was going to take some time to get used to it.

Thankfully, it also manages to breakthrough whatever shell you’d suddenly formed around yourself. Grasping his hand with your own, you let out a soft whine as he continues to prod at you and he quickly intertwines his fingers with your own. For a moment, he’s too busy staring down at your hand in amused awe to remember what he’d asked you.

“Your hand is tiny, you know that?”

“No, you just have huge hands. All of you is huge, just like all of me is small. The difference between a horse and a lovebird.” Now it’s your turn to push at his stomach, a small smile on your face. Taehyung grins at that, but he grins, even more, when he catches your eyes flicking down to his lap.

It all clicked into place in his head, from the way you got shy at him saying he’s not normally called cute to the way you call him huge. You’re not wrong; Taehyung is massive when compared to you. Denser bones add to it at all, allowing him to lift and move heavy weights with ease whereas you’d developed a lighter bone structure that was more reminiscent of birds.

Taehyung had never broken a bone before, whereas you had to be careful doing certain things. But the size difference between you both was made even more obvious when he thought about sex. He was bigger than most human and hybrid males down below, and he wondered if there was something wrong with him that the knowledge you knew that turned him on.

Not that you’d ever seen him naked or anything, but you weren’t stupid. He was infamous in the porn industry for a reason.

Which suddenly made him consider something, his head tilting slightly as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Have you ever watched my stuff? Like my films or anything? I know for a fact that some of them are on those free porn sites.” Biting his lip, he watches closely for any positive sign. One of the benefits of being a horse hybrid was that he was highly attuned to microexpressions in others.

Originally meant to watch out for danger and keep himself safe, it was more useful for getting an idea of where a conversation was going. It also made Taehyung feel very stupid that he’d never noticed you were in love with him before.

He doesn’t need to have any extra abilities to read your face right now though, not with how you look almost like you wish the floor would swallow you whole. You can’t even meet his eyes and it delights him.

“You have!”

“No! I wouldn’t do that, you’re my best friend. That’d be weird.” Taehyung can sense the distress in your voice and he forces himself to tone down. He had no issues with the idea of you watching his stuff; if anything it was a turn on. But this relationship was so new that it had barely been born and he didn’t want to push your boundaries just yet.

Still, he felt like he had a right to know.

“Hey, listen to me, it wouldn’t bother me if you did. I actually would find it a turn on to know you’ve watched me. I hope you weren’t upset though, I only did all of that to satisfy my instincts so that I could enjoy my time with you. But I made those films and videos for people to enjoy. If you got off to some of them that I’d consider it a job well done. Don’t feel embarrassed if you did.” Using his free hand, he lets his fingers trail along your cheek. It’s warm beneath his touch, the blood rushing in response to your tumultuous emotions and he reassuringly runs his thumb across it.

“You’re...you’re not bothered by the idea of that?”

Taehyung chuckles at your disbelief and shrugs genially, making sure to portray an aura of calm and serenity. The only thing that bothered him about the idea of you watching his videos was that he was already sporting a semi at the very thought of his supposed ‘innocent’ best friend watching him railing some mare.

Which should be a terrible thought, but it just meant that he was all the more experienced for you. There would be no doubt in his mind that he could show you a world of pleasure that you’d never even imagined; as pompous and egotistic as that sounded.

Sex was his area of expertise though.

“I mean...I knew it was a risk when I started. I make porn. Porn is available freely on the internet and I fully expected some of my friends to be at least a little curious. Plus, there’s the whole ‘horse hybrid’ thing going on. I don’t tend to get embarrassed easily around sex. If anything, it’s kinda exciting knowing that you’ve seen some.” You’re giving him a look of pure confusion and he can’t help but laugh heartily.

Oh, he loves you. He loves how befuddled you are at his refusal to adhere to your expectations. Given how reserved you were normally about sex and relationships, it was delightful to shatter your illusions surrounding him and make your perusal of his work sound like a benefit rather than something to be ashamed of.

“So...what did you think? You’ve never given me a rating before, so I’m curious.” Once more, your eyes dart away from his and he has to stifle a snort at how you suddenly find the wall so interesting. The artwork on there was nice, he’d picked it out himself, but it wasn’t that nice.

He doesn’t push though. What he wants is for this relationship to start on trust and honesty. So if you want to trust him enough to be honest about your opinion then he’d accept that. If it was still too early for you; he’d accept that too.

“It was good. I mean, I haven’t watched much. It was years ago and only a few minutes before I felt weird. Like I was spying on you. That’s it though! I swear I haven’t seen anything else. It felt like I was...perving on you or something.” Grasping at his hands desperately, you give him such big eyes that try to get across your honesty.

It makes his lips quirk in amusement and he links your fingers together once more, squeezing lightly. For a few moments, he considers how to respond to you before deciding to just go for it. Which means he slowly leans forward to you, eyes flicking down to your lips and giving you plenty of chances to pull away and leave.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a little bit of a relief, knowing you’ve seen at least something. But most importantly...can I kiss you?” Taehyung swears you deflate, your entire body seeming to relax with a deep breath you let out.

He’d be worried if it wasn’t for the huge grin that you have painted on your face now, the delight making your skin almost glow with health and happiness. It’s a beautiful look and he feels like he’s enraptured once more, falling in love with you all over again. At least now he has an outlet for these mushy feelings.

“Finally!”

There’s only time for Taehyung’s eyes to widen in shock before you’re shaking your hands free of his own and grasping at his shirt. With a surprising amount of strength, you jerk him forwards and his lips crash against your own. That’s the only way to describe it, as it kinda hurts. His lips mashed against his teeth a little and his nose bumps against yours, causing him to whine.

You let him go almost immediately, looking intensely embarrassed as you rub at your mouth and nose. He does the same, making sure that there’s nothing wrong with his beloved nose while licking at his lips to soothe the dull ache. But then he can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and rumbling up from his chest as he contemplates what just happened.

Every time that he thought you would zig, you instead zagged. Over the years, he’d learnt to go with the flow with you in regards to this with his friendship but for some reason, he’d never quite realised that it would be much the same with a romantic relationship. You defied his expectations and made him feel like he was constantly on his toes.

He loved it, including when almost headbutted him with your first kiss.

“I am so sorry-” You start, your eyes wide and worry emanating from you. He shakes his head, trying to stifle his amusement before reaching out and cupping your face with a gentle touch.

“Okay, how about we try this again but...a little slower this time, yeah?” Keeping your face steady, he inches forward until he can feel your warm breath on his cheek. You’ve already closed your eyes in anticipation and he has to squash the desire to grin, instead fulfilling both of your wishes by pressing his lips against your own.

It’s a soft and gentle kiss at first, exploratory and uncertain. Neither of you knows how to kiss the other properly, or what the other likes, and so you both simply...take your time. Taehyung’s thumb strokes along with the softness of your cheek while your hands flatten against his chest, palms hot where they rest.

He’s kissed a lot of women in his life; some he’s proud of, some he’s not and some he doesn’t even care about. But this is the best kiss so far. Even as slow and unsure as it is, it’s still the best.

Because it’s you.

There’s more than a hint of inexperience in your kiss and it doesn’t surprise him. He knows that you’ve at least kissed a few people before, but you didn’t have a huge amount of experience in it. Instead, it’s just enough that he feels comfortable but not enough to have you take the lead.

So he does, instead. And given how bold you’d been earlier, he takes the initiative to be bold this time as well.

With almost minimal strength required on his behalf, he slips his hands down to your hips and grips them tightly, lifting and depositing you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. He doesn’t even make a noise as he does so, your weight nothing to him.

His ancestors had been bred for heavy lifting and pulling, after all.

What he doesn’t anticipate though, is the way you moan into his mouth or how you wiggle slightly at his action. Pulling from you, one brow lifts as he looks you over inquisitively. His question is silent, but you understand it immediately. There’s nowhere for you to look now, not when you’re so close to him.

So you stare at his chin instead, carefully avoiding his eyes as your hands move to play with his soft hair. The blonde strands are almost golden instead of platinum in the soft light of the nearby lamp, just visible in his vision from where you stroke them.

“I forget how strong you are sometimes.” The words are muttered and he gets the impression that you’re hoping he doesn’t hear. And that he won’t query it further. But he does, of course, he does.

“Do you have a strength kink, Chirp?”

“Wha-no! That’s, why would I-” Spluttering, you lean back a little and take a moment to shuffle until you’re more comfortable on his lap. Your legs are on either side of his now, comfortable in their almost kneeling position but most of your weight is on his legs. He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and tug you closer, enjoying the warmth you give him.

“It’s cool if you do. I can fulfil that. Not yet though, if that’s okay. But I need you to know something right now. I don’t want us to have sex right now. Not yet. Since being a teenager, I’ve been obsessed with sex. An unfortunate side effect of being a stallion. For the first time in my adult life...I don’t feel an insatiable need for it. And it’s kinda nice. I don’t want us to start our relationship with sex. I want us to explore each other and our relationship first and then introduce sex. I need to learn that sex is something intimate and between only us now. I’ve spent too long viewing it as work.” He tries to make sure that his words are carefully said and that he’s not rushing them, but now he’s the one a little nervous.

You’d been far bolder than he’d ever expected and now he was worried that you might expect sex from him immediately. It was an easy, even acceptable, assumption to make given what he was and his career. But he didn’t want that. As he’d said, he wanted to start this relationship with love and trust.

Lust could come later.

There’s no answer from you for a moment and he sighs, letting his hands awkwardly stroke at your sides in an attempt to give them something to do.

“I’m sorry if that’s not what you were expecting. Or not what you wanted. I’m a little surprised you’ve been so forward with me and-” A soft fingertip presses against his lips, causing him to quieten instantly.

Smiling softly, you lean forward and kiss him. It’s just as chaste as the one previously, only you’ve controlled yourself a little more compared to your first attempt. He takes solace in it though and now his body is the one deflating. There’s a silent acceptance in that kiss.

When you finally pull away from him, he finds himself chasing after you. It’s an odd sensation for him to do that without any intention of going further but he finds that he likes it. There’s no doubt that you can feel what’s going on in his pants; he can’t control everything after all but just because his body is saying yes doesn’t mean his mind is.

And you accept that. He can tell instantly, from the reassuring smile you give him and how you embrace him so warmly and carefully.

“It’s okay, Tae. I’ll admit to being a little disappointed but I can understand your reasoning behind it. And I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to. I know you’d do the same for me. I guess it’s just going to make it better when we finally do get to it, right?” Teasing him, you stick your tongue out and poke at his cheek.

Almost immediately, his nose wrinkles and your laugh lightly. For a moment, the sounds are almost like chirping and he can see your lovebird origins so clearly. That was to say nothing of the fact that you were now subconsciously grooming his hair, fingertips running through the platinum strands and getting rid of any unfortunate kinks or knots.

“Thank you.” He whispers, letting his hands wrap around your waist until he’s hugging you. It takes minimal effort to have you plastered against him, head resting on his shoulder as he embraces you so tightly. You smell heavenly, and he wonders what he did to be given the chance to be with you after so many years.

“Can we go on a date though? I mean...like now?” Tilting his head back, he frowns before looking at the table and the pizza boxes.

“What? Where? We’ve already eaten?”

“Okay, but I’m kinda horny and you’re kinda horny and I think we both need to talk a walk and cool down. So...how about we have our first date? I’ve been waiting a while for this, Kim Taehyung.” Your smile is so big and bright, dazzling him and making his stomach flutter.

He doesn’t even realise he’s nodding until you practically launch yourself from his lap, rushing over to the door and chattering away. If he was being honest, he had no idea what you were talking about as you quickly pulled your shoes on and sorted out your bag.

Taehyung didn’t even care, because he’d done it. He had the girl he’d been in love with for years, who he’d been certain he had no chance with. You could regale him with a thousand and one tales and he’d listen to them all with a content smile because he was yours, and you were his.

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the-ferocious-kittyrose · 3 years

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My complicated opinion on Keith Kogane

Keith Kogane is definitely one of the more popular characters in the VLD fandom. People love brooding emo bad boys.

My feelings on Keith are... complicated. I definitely don’t hate him. I have a lot of problems with the character but I don’t think I could ever bring myself to actually hate him. Mainly because I kinda relate to him. We both have problems controlling our emotions, interacting with people, and making friends.

And we both have trouble believing there are people who truly have our best interests at heart and won’t abandon us because we’re a burden.

What I do hate is the way his character was written and the way it negatively impacted the characters around him.

There are definitely a lot of factors that contributed to VLD ending up the way it did. But to me, Keith and the writers insistence on pushing him to the forefront was the poison that killed the show.

Ok, before we get into this whole rant I feel like I should talk about the things I do like about Keith.

I like the premise of Keith’s character. He’s half Galra and never really fit in on Earth. He didn’t act like the other “normal” kids so kids made fun of him and adults didn’t want to deal with him. So in order to protect himself from the pain of rejection he would put up a tough angry facade and push people away and reject them before they could reject him.

This is something that really resonates with me personally having grown up neurodivergent. It’s awful growing up in a world that isn’t made for people like you and not knowing how to interact with or connect with your peers. Especially when you don’t know why you’re like that.

You learn to avoid social interaction because it always ends up negative. You put up walls because you don’t feel like anybody understands you or what you’re going through.

I know the writers probably didn’t intend to code Keith as neurodivergent. They just wanted Keith to be a hothead with abandonment issues, but nonetheless, this interpretation means a lot to me.

I also really like his relationship with Shiro. Keith is so used to being left behind and abandoned that when he meets someone like Shiro who’s patient and genuinely cares it’s new and strange. He’s so ready for Shiro to abandon him, even telling Shiro to send him back to the home, but Shiro refuses to leave him and tells Keith ethat he’s never going to give up on him.

It’s also interesting to see how their relationship develops over time. It’s clear Keith trusts Shiro, but you can tell that that fear of abandonment is still there deep down. In S2, Keith tells Shiro that he’s like a brother to him, and then in season 6, he takes the extra step and tells Shiro that he IS his brother and that he loves him. And for someone like Keith, telling their friend they love them is a big scary thing.

And also it’s just great to see a platonic “I love you,” especially between two guys. Don’t be afraid to tell your bros you love them!!!

Now let’s talk about the stuff I didn’t like.

Keith doesn’t have much going for him in terms of personality. He’s just sorta brooding and serious all the time. He does make jokes occasionally but it’s rare. The writers were more focused on making him cool and badass rather than fun.

I always loved the idea of Keith as a cocky carefree asshole who doesn’t give a shit about rules/laws and is kinda rude/aggressive but has a heart of gold deep down and would do anything for the people he cares about. (Just like a cat.)

I would also make him more alien esc. In terms of design I like the idea of Keith having red eyes with narrow pupils and fangs. And also just small things like the way he walks and holds himself. He growls and bears his teeth when he’s angry, his hair puffs up when scared, he’s fast and agile, disappearing and reappearing without making much noise, small things.

Then you have his race and sexuality. I have no doubt in my mind that Keith was intended to be a straight white dude. A lot of people see him as gay and Asian but there’s no evidence for this in canon. Acxa was originally intended to be his love interest and his race was never mentioned in canon. His name isn’t even Kogane in canon. (And the race of the voice actor doesn’t equal the race of the character. If that was the case Shiro, Hunk, and Lance would be white.)

They should’ve totally made Keith Japanese like he was in the original. It would’ve been so easy! Just canonize Kogane as his last name and have the book say he’s half Japanese half Galra. They could’ve also done what they did with Shiro and keep his og GoLion name. Just have him be Akira Kogane. Definitely cooler than “Keith.”

And as for his sexuality, I definitely think they should’ve had Keith be gay. But well get to that Later...

I also don’t like how they handled the whole Krolia thing. Not only was it crazy rushed, but it completely goes against the shows theme of found family.

Keith’s arc should’ve been about overcoming his abandonment issues and learning to accept the paladins as family. But instead they just get rid of the abandonment issues by just giving him his mom back.

I know a lot of people love Krolia but I don’t feel like she should’ve been introduced in anything other than flashbacks. Because Keith’s mom isn’t really that important. The show is about found family and friendship, not blood relation.

You can definitely have Keith learn about his mom and his family, but I feel like giving him his mom back was too much.

Personally, I always headcanoned that Kolivan was Keith’s grandfather or just a close friend of Krolia’s, and when Keith showed up at the Blade’s base Kolivan recognized the blade as his Krolia’s. Keith could learn about his mom through Kolivan telling him about her, how she was a great person and warrior who died fighting to make the universe a safer place for her son.

Another thing I didn’t like was the whole Keith leaving the team for the Blades thing. I know why he did it, he felt like the team was gonna reject him, he wanted to be more useful, and wanted to learn about his family, but I feel like you could’ve touched on all that without having him abandon his team.

One of the biggest problems with the show is that they did a bad job at establishing the paladins as friends, they feel like coworkers more than anything, and I feel like Keith being absent for two seasons contributed to that.

And his absence is hardly addressed. The team forms Voltron perfectly without him and no one ever says they miss him. Keith doesn’t even seem like he missed them after being gone for two years.

And a lot of the weight was taken out of that Keith v Kuron fight by the fact that Keith and Kuron hardly interacted.

That whole thing amounted to four things, Keith meeting Krolia (which I don’t think should’ve happened), them finding the colony (which was a dumb plot I don’t think should’ve happened), Keith aging up two years (which was weird and unnecessary), and Keith meeting Kosmo (which is... complicated).

I don’t think this plot was necessary. Keith should’ve stayed with his team.

Then you have his relationship with Lance. I know people are very sensitive about this topic. People have very strong opinions about whether or not Keith and Lance were intended to be romantically coded.

Personally, I do like Klance but I don’t believe they were romantically coded. I think if you want them to get together some things would have to go differently.

For example, the bonding moment. In canon, Lance tells Keith, “we make a good team.” I don’t see this as referring to him and Keith. I think he was talking about the whole team. If you want it to be about the two of them, I feel like it should be Lance telling Keith something like, “ya know, you’re not so bad after all,” and then Keith smiles and responds, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

Another example could be the scene where Lance comes to Keith with his insecurities. (Whether it’s as a leader or a friend.) This scene was weird in canon, Lance comes to Keith for advice and Keith basically tells him to just stop thinking about it.

I would prefer if Lance brought up to Keith how he doesn’t feel like he’s good enough or that he doesn’t have, “a thing,” and Keith is completely dumbfounded like, “what are you even talking about?” He goes on about all the good shit about Lance. Talks about how Blue chose him, how he’s a great shot, how he’s good at dealing with people, meanwhile Lance is standing there in shock as Keith says all these nice things about him.

Over all you would just have to develop their relationship more. More meaningful interactions. And if you want the relationship to be romantic you would have to establish that early on. Establish that one or both has romantic feelings for the other in like S1/S2 because if you wait too long it’s gonna feel forced/out of no where.

And then... you have the Black Paladin arc... I’m gonna be real with y’all, this is the arc that killed the show for me, for a few reasons.

One, even ignoring the whole quintessence bond thing, it makes no sense for Keith to be the bp. He doesn’t fit the role. I adore Shiro but choosing Keith as his successor was a dumb move. I get that he saw potential in Keith but they’re are fighting a war, there’s no room for favoritism.

Shiro should’ve chosen Allura as his successor. Not only does she have actual leadership experience, but you would only have one paladin in a new Lion instead of three.

If a lifeguard breaks his leg and can’t work, he should choose an experienced swimmers to take his place, not his little bro that’s still in water wings in the hopes that it’ll teach him to swim.

Two, Keith being the bp doesn’t help his arc. Keith’s arc is about overcoming his abandonment issues and learning to be a team player, he doesn’t need to be the leader for that.

VLD should’ve been about the paladins growing into the best versions of themselves they could be. Their development shown by unlocking new abilities in their respective lions, new forms for their bayards, and new Voltron bayard power ups. They shouldn’t have to change lions and themselves.

Keith and Red have a strong bond and work great together. Keith and Red are both temperamental, unpredictable, and have issues with trust. Keith having to fight to get Red to trust and open up to him mirrors how others have to fight to earn Keith’s trust and get him to let down his walls.

It would’ve been interesting to see them grow together. Keith has no emotional connection with Black.

We never even get to see them bond. Keith just suddenly becomes the “perfect” bp/leader because he got over his mommy issues

Three, it’s a MASSIVE disservice to Shiro’s character. Shiro put all the work in earning his position as the bp, he literally fits fought Zarkon on the astral plane to earn her trust, yet Keith is the true bp? What?

It sucks. Sendak told Shiro that a monster like him could never be a paladin and the writers went and proved him right. Hell Shiro didn’t even get to kill Sendak, Keith got that too.

And don’t tell me, “but he got the Atlas!” REALLY!? A massive Deus ex machina that required absolutely no effort from him to acquire!? Filled with a bunch of rando background characters no one gives a shit about!? You’re totally right, that 100% makes up for it.

I could go on and on about how the treatment of Shiro in this show (and fandom) is blatantly ableist but that’s a rant for another time.

It sucks. I want to like Keith! He had the potential to be an amazing character but the writers just kept on trying to turn him into something he wasn’t and it ruined him for me.

They kept trying to turn Keith into the main character and ignored that ALL the paladins are the main characters. It’s an ensemble cast! You don’t have to have everything come back to one guy.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #voltron legendary discourse #vld #vld critical #keith kogane #keith vld #red paladin keith #klance #krolia #black paladin shiro #takashi shirogane #vld shiro #black lion #red lion #galra #galra keith #blade of marmora

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the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo · 3 years

Text

Missed Opportunities | Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 3

Welcome to Part 3! You've made it this far? I'm impressed. Thank you for sticking around. This is quite the long chapter so, I hope you enjoy the juicy action all around.

And this one was quite the doozy to write. It's 3AM now? Hah, I've spent the entire day writing two chapters. But definitely don't expect more at quite this frequency. But I appreciate you all none the less.

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Tag Requests: @lostghostgirl94 @neoarchipelago @fillechatoyante @fanfics-ig

Did I miss someone? For future tag requests: Please send me a direct message if possible, it's easy to lose people in the mix and I don't want to miss anyone!

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For previous chapters go here: Part 1 | Part 2

Word Count: 5.358

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

It had been precisely three hours, forty-two minutes since two Avengers and a criminal mastermind had left the safe house you were staying in.

You were currently staring up at the ceiling with mild boredom waiting for the next round of texts to come in. An alert notification rang through the near empty residence, the noise echoed off the walls of the living room intensifying the reverberation of sound.

Rolling over, you flopped onto you stomach from your position on the couch, stretching your arm out to grab the phone off the coffee table.

Carefully, you read the incoming message. 'No recent signs of Karli, but following up on a handprint Bucky found a couple miles from our initial start position. Zemo has a theory it might lead to a section of tunnel that veers off towards the harbor. Will update again in another hour. - S'

Great.

So they'll easily be gone at least another couple hours, leaving you to your own devices. That's dangerous. There's no telling what kind of trouble you could get into without something to do. Your mind was always processing, constantly formulating new plans and calculating risk probabilities. It's why you were so fidgety and animated. You didn't inherently have ADHD, but your brain was so active the symptoms manifested as such. You had a genius level intelligence, you just chose to down-play it most of the time. You craved activities to keep your mind from going into overdrive; it's why you spend most of your mornings running. To drain your body of excess energy and let your brain rest.

You groaned in irritation, tossing the phone back onto the coffee table. Sam could have at least given you a pin point location so you could do some research on the area where the handprint was found.

Maybe you could read for a bit.

You got up and headed to your room at the back of the apartment. Zemo gave you the last room at the end of the hallway, it also happened to be the only room that had a half bath attached to it. Which in retrospect, was quite thoughtful of him.

As you reached your room, a chilly draft fell across your body, causing goosebumps to raise on your fair skin. You noticed you left a window open in the room and moved to close it. Often times, late at night you sat at the window sill and read to pass the time when you couldn't sleep. Sometimes, you'd crack the window open and simply listen to the sounds of the outside; they were just as soothing. There was no denying it was quite lovely where you were staying. Helmut Zemo had impeccable taste.

You grabbed your book and crossed the room, rubbing your arm to help circulate some heat back into your body, but before you got to the door, a patch of blue caught your eye. Zemo's hoodie. It had been left draped haphazardly over the back of one of the chairs in your room. A constant reminder you needed to give it back to the Baron, but you weren't ready to just yet, and funnily enough, he hadn't asked for it.

Shifting from foot to foot, you debated what to do. It was comfortable. Wearing it one last time couldn't hurt, right? There wasn't anyone here to cajole you about it anyways and you could just take it off before the guys got back. Perfectly reasonable. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you snagged the garment off the chair and pulled it on as you walked back out to the main living room, book in hand.

As you rounded the corner and made your way through the kitchen back to the couch, you heard a loud metallic bang against the entry-way door accompanied with the tell tale signs of door knobs turning. Caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, you had leapt off the ground, clutching the book to your chest.

You stared at the door in fear knowing it was way too soon for anyone to have returned yet. And they wouldn't have caused the disruption in the attempts to break in. Pushing down your apprehension, your senses started to return to you, and you realized you need to get to your phone. Now.

Your eyes moved across the apartment and landed on the coffee table a short distance away from you. Bingo. You took a step forward towards the table when the front doors suddenly swung open and a whirl of red, white and blue flew past your face. The projectile, nearly hitting you, caused you to stumble, knocking you backwards onto the floor. You landed clumsily, but thankfully caught yourself before your head smacked against the ground.

You didn't need to look up to know exactly what object flew at your head. The sound alone was unmistakable.

"Apologies for the erratic entrance, I only meant to use it to help open the door - I hadn't planned on Lemar here unlocking the them so easily. When the doors fell open, it kind of just flew right out of my hand."

Annoyance had now replaced your fear.

John Walker.

You had many opinions of the man based off what Sam and Bucky had told you, but you hadn't had the pleasure of actually meeting him. Until now.

This did not help sway your opinion of him in the very least. If anything, it only solidified that the government had made a rash decision. You don't just had over the shield to anyone.

You glared up at the intruders from your position on the floor. This was completely unexpected. How did he even manage to locate this safe house? Something nagged at the back of your mind that Captain Walker might have had help from people with a questionable background. You shoved the thought aside for the time being.

Lemar had gone around to the back of the couch and pulled the shield out of the wall embedded in between the two stained windows. Walker, who stood next to you, was offering his hand to help you up.

You didn't even make an effort to consider his gesture and got up off the floor without his assistance, dusting yourself off in the process.

Walker appeared undeterred by your dismissal of him and instead put on a winning smile and rotated his hand in the attempts of a handshake.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot. John Walker. Captain America," he proudly stated.

"I know who you are Captain Walker, as well as your friend here," you briskly answered, crossing your arms in front of you.

You could see the smile start to drop off his face and his eyes turn a bit darker.

"And I know who you are as well, you're well documented along with the Avengers, but I was trying to be polite," Walker grounded out with forced effort.

You didn't want to start an argument with the newly anointed Captain America, but there was something off about him that just irritated you.

"Polite?" you sarcastically question. "How is barging into someone's residence, polite? Please, do explain," you shifted your weight onto one side, giving him an expectant look.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. In case you've forgotten, I'm Captain America," he took a step towards you, his body language highly suggesting an intimidation tactic.

You held your tongue and took a step back to place more distance between yourself and Walker. You spared a glance at his partner to gauge his reaction, but his expression was guarded, although he was watching with rapt attention.

"What do you want, Walker?" you bit out. You attempted to keep some of the contempt out of your voice, but he had quickly turned your mood sour this afternoon.

"Where's Zemo?" Walker cut straight to the chase this time.

"Not here, obviously," you held your arms out, gesturing around.

"I want to know where Zemo is. He's coming with us," the captain took another step towards you, this time with a more forceful intention.

You furrowed your brow and took another step back. His posturing was starting to make you slightly nervous.

"Even if I did know where he was, I'm not saying either way. Zemo has been surprisingly helpful to us, and we need him to locate Karli along with the rest of the Flag-Smashers, including the missing vials of serum. And he's more likely to continue working with us, than provide you with any information at all. That I can say with absolute certainty," your words sounded confident, but inside you were trembling.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say to Captain America.

His entire demeanor changed. Once where there was some warmth and light-heartedness, there was only a cold emptiness left in his gaze. He reached back to grab the shield from Lemar, and then without any warning shoved you back against the wall to your left.

You heard the distinct sound of your right shoulder pop as is slammed into the wall along with the rest of your body. The rapid movement from Walker and impact from the shield knocked the wind right out of you. The pressure from the amount of force he was exerting pinned you to the wall and caused the shield to be painfully pressed into your side, separating you from Walker. You could feel the rim of the shield digging slightly into your neck, but not enough to cause any real damage.

"John!" you heard Hoskins shout with alarm from behind Walker.

You swallowed thickly; very real fear had settled into your bones. You were capable of defending yourself, but hadn't actually needed to put those skills into any use. Bucky and Sam had taught you some moves and hold to get out of, but it never crossed any of your minds once you'd have to fight Captain America. You tried to shift your head to the side to see how far away your phone was. What possible options you had. Maybe you could appeal to his partner and deescalate the situation before things got too ugly.

"I'm only going to ask this one last time. Where is Zemo?" Walker spit out, putting force against the shield, which in turn, caused you to grimace in pain.

"Hoskins, you really going to allow Captain America to torture an innocent citizen trying to help in a cause we're all aligned in?" you gasped out, trying to swallow as much air as possible through the pain wracking your body.

You refused to let it show. Holding back as much of the discomfort you were in. You didn't want to give Walker the satisfaction.

"John, ease up. She's not a terrorist, and frankly, I agree with her," Hoskins voiced, his footsteps bringing him closer to Walker with the hopes of gaining his attention no doubt.

The pressure from the shield against your form was lifted slightly, though the shield was still closer to your body than you'd like to admit. You closed your eyes to focus on regaining some stability and figure out your next course of action to get yourself out of this mess.

"Stay out of this Lemar," John replied, but his menacing stature had lessened minutely.

You opened your eyes to stare at Walker. He had removed the shield between the two of you and placed it on his back; however he stepped into your personal space instead and placed a hand against your collarbone, essentially rendering you immobile again.

Well, at least now you could breathe.

Walker peered down at you with distain, "You're really not going to give him up are you?"

You clenched your jaw and lifted your chin defiantly at him.

"No," you answered.

The wheels were turning inside Walker's head. You could literally see the fire burning in his eyes, realizing he wasn't going to get an answer out of you. Not willingly.

He dipped his head and released his hold on you, pointing a finger right at your face, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

You saw Lemar walk up and pat Walker's shoulder, "Alright, let's get out of here."

Walker straightened up and stiffly walked away, leaving Hoskins trailing behind. His ego had taken a blow today.

Hoskins gave an apologetic shrug, "He's under a lot of stress."

Before Lemar could fully clear your line of sight, you quietly spoke up, "He doesn't deserve that shield."

Hoskins didn't have a response to that.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

In wake of the aftermath, you had tried to clean up as best possible. You assessed your injuries were non life-threatening, though your right shoulder was most definitely dislocated. The arm was kept close against your body hoping to not jostle it too much. You felt spikes of pain as you cleaned the area where Walker had thrown the shield into the wall, but ignored it so you could get the place back in shape before Sam, Bucky and Zemo returned.

Sam had messaged not too long ago, they were roughly 20 minutes out from the apartment.

Your ribs were throbbing from where the shield had been buried into your side, but you didn't think they had been broken, only bruised. You were going to have to ask one of them pop your shoulder back into place.

You were dreading the conversation, but were determined to remain as calm as possible to help alleviate the immediate reaction they were going to have once you revealed what happened.

The events of the day had finally caught up with you and coupled with the cleaning efforts, your body was signaling it's exhaustion. You were in the kitchen, and honestly didn't think you could make the short trip to one of the sofas; so you carefully sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen and waited patiently.

Sure enough, 20 minutes later, the doors to the apartment opened and the guys swiftly came in to greet you.

"Did you even leave the kitchen?" James inquired, coasting around the kitchen to grab a drink.

You smiled tightly and responded in kind, "For a short while, yes. Did you guys find anything worth while?" You quickly wanted to change the subject but knowing you were only delaying the inevitable.

"Yeah, we think we've discovered a possible building Karli is using to hideout in. We had planned on eating something quickly and then leave again to check it out tonight," Sam explained.

As Sam was talking, Bucky had accidently bumped into you, causing you to wince and pull your arm tighter to you. Luckily, he didn't see your face, but Sam did.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam questioned, voice filling with concern.

You blew out a breath bracing yourself for what you were about to say.

"What happened to my wall?" Zemo piped up, giving you a curious glance, he had moved to run his hand along the diagonal cut, inches deep, in the space between the ceiling to floor windows.

Bucky left his glass and walked over to get a better look, as did Sam. Both of them would know precisely what caused a mark like that to become etched into a wall.

Sam and Bucky snapped their heads back to you as soon as they saw the indention, but it was Zemo who spoke first.

"John Walker was here," he stated, shrugging off his coat and hanging it over the back of the couch he was nearby.

"It was an, eventful afternoon here," you tried to put some overly cheerful, comedic tones into your voice, but failed pretty miserably.

"What happened?" Sam immediately asked.

The trio had made their way back to the kitchen to get answers from you.

Zemo came to stand nearby, eyes roaming your body, searching. With his expertise, there was no question that he would quickly figure out you were injured; so you tried to tell your story as concisely as possible.

"Um, so - Walker and Lemar showed up. He asked for Zemo. I told him he wasn't here aaaaand they left. The end," you hurriedly spoke, wanting to get this over with and not draw any more attention to yourself.

But you could see in Helmut's eyes, he knew there was more to your story. His carefully crafted mask was starting to crack as you saw his gaze drift down to you cradling your arm underneath the island away from Bucky and Sam's eyeline.

"You're hurt," Zemo said. His face showed open concern as he walked the remaining distance to you.

With more tenderness than you thought possible coming from him, he slowly and carefully moved your right arm away from your body. He kept his eyes trained on you for any discomfort or signs of pain.

Once your arm had left your lap though, you reached over with your left hand to grip one of his wrists to prevent him from moving your arm any further.

"Don't, please," you pleaded, gritting your teeth and swallowing down the pain threatening to erupt from you. You were panting now, and more clear than ever something had happened to you while they were gone.

Helmut released your arm without hesitation, but did not leave your side. You saw him exchange tense looks between James and Sam. Normally, Bucky would have been focused on keeping Zemo away from you, but with the current circumstances, he was no longer a priority.

"What actually happened?" Bucky softly called out, he and Sam had gotten closer to take a better look at you. Sam brought a chair out to sit next to you and give you a once over, while you explained.

The expressions on their faces were grim as they anxiously awaited your reply.

"It wasn't - it's not quite as bad as it seems," you started, stuttering out the words as Sam brought his hands up to check your head for any injuries first.

"He just barged right in and was insistent on finding Zemo. He was acting so arrogant and pompous, I just refused to give him any information on his whereabouts," you continued on. "He didn't like the fact I wasn't willing to cooperate with "Captain America" and he got a little.....rough with me."

Sam paused his surveying to meet your gaze. You could see the guilt beginning to creep into his eyes. He turned his head to look up at Bucky, who was angrily flexing his vibranium arm in displeasure. Probably only affirming his notion that Sam should have never given up the shield in the first place.

"What did he do?" Bucky's tone brook no argument. He wanted to know the truth.

You scrunched your face in unpleasantness when Sam checked your lower neck and collarbone, he had found the place on your body where the shield and his hand had met you.

"Is this from - ?" Sam couldn't finish his sentence and he looked away in anger. You could tell he just wanted to get up and throw something, and that was commonly uncharacteristic for him.

Zemo had shifted his position to take a peek at what Sam was doing while he checked you out. You saw how his eyes had darkened with quiet rage taking stock of everything. There was an outline of a thin scrap mark against the underside of your neck and jaw, but it was a clear demarcation that would only be caused from the shield itself.

You nodded sadly and focused on answering Bucky's question as you gave Sam the okay to keep going.

"Walker, didn't get what he wanted, so he did the only other thing he knows how to do," you cleared your throat and rubbed your hand against your forehead.

"Use brute force," Zemo darkly said.

"He used the shield to push me up against the wall over there," you pointed over as you continued re-telling what happened. "I was knocked into the wall pretty hard, but Walker lost all focus and nearly suffocated me from the force of the shield against my body. I think he -" you yelped like a wounded animal, not able to finish your story when Sam touched your shoulder.

Bucky's eyes had widen and became deeply concerned over your pained scream.

Your muscled were clenched tight as you tried to ride out the pain, face starting to turn red.

Zemo had placed a light hand on your back, leaning down to comfort you and remind you to breath.

You fumbled with your good arm as you tried taking in deep breaths and motioned to Sam what was wrong with your arm.

Even with your poor mime animation of pretending to have your arm pulled from your socket, James picked up on what you were getting at. He tapped Sam to switch places with him. Your eyes were watering at this point and you blinked back the tears wanting to fall.

"Alright doll, on the count of three, I'm going to raise your arm and put pressure on your shoulder, okay?" Bucky solemnly said.

Sam gave you a smile of assurance while Zemo ended up taking your good hand, letting you know you could use him to brace yourself. He and James shared a silent conversation before nodding at one another. If Sam had a problem with Zemo providing you comfort, he didn't show it. You figured he was letting some of his dormant humanity rise to surface in this moment.

You shook slightly trying to prepare yourself for the next round of pain once your shoulder was fixed, but James didn't give you any time.

"Three," he commanded, snapping your shoulder back into its socket before you had a chance to even reaction.

You let out another cry of pain, holding onto Zemo's hand tightly, but somehow, the fear of the oncoming pain dissipated as you let go of his hand and rubbed your shoulder with minimal soreness.

You cleared your throat and looked at everyone after a few moments of rest. Surprised at how efficiently James had handled your shoulder, but then again, he was the perfect person to do the job.

You scrunched up your nose at James, "What happened to one and two?"

He huffed out a laugh, "It worked didn't it?"

"Thank you. All of you," you gave a lazy smile through the tiredness that filled you up. "I think I'll be okay now - that was the worst of it. Promise. Walker didn't do any further harm to me. I managed to convince Lemar to get Walker to back down," you glossed over the section where Walker threatened you, but you could bring that up later.

None of them were satisfied with your response, but you're guessing they let it slide given the circumstances.

Zemo reached into the freezer to grab an ice pack. He handed it to you to place on your shoulder helping with your recovery. You accepted it from him extremely grateful. You mused your opinion of him was constantly evolving the more time you actually spent with him.

Sam had asked if you were sure there weren't any other areas you wanted to have checked over for injuries.

You assured him, you were alright, just tired and very sore.

Bucky had swiftly gotten up from his chair and made it known he wanted to go after Walker this evening. You knew he wasn't going to let this incident go any time soon. Sam had also been in agreement after fully understanding what transpired, but Zemo was eerily silent.

"You guys should follow your original plan. Don't let Walker distract you. I'm alive and I am going to be okay. Go follow your lead on Karli," you interjected, trying to be the reasonable one. There was no need for them to go off halfcocked while they were still very upset. You were too, if you were being honest with yourself, but your focus was on your friends first and foremost.

"Well, we're not leaving you here alone. I can stay behind and let Zemo and Sam check things out," James said.

"Actually, it makes the most sense if I stay behind," Zemo chimed in.

"Why is that?" Sam countered warily.

"The particular location you are going to, I have....a history there. It would be wise for me to not be seen in that part of town as to not raise any alarm bells," he reasoned with them.

"And why should we trust you with her?" Bucky asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

"Because I have no motive to do any harm to her nor shall I allow any further injury come to her. On this James, I give you my word," Helmut replied, the seriousness of his tone was not lost on anyone in the room.

"Okay," Sam relented, moving about the kitchen to pack some food for their evening night out.

"Just like that, huh?" James said with disbelief.

"Yeah, just like that," Sam parroted back.

Bucky wasn't happy about the situation, but there was an urgency to find Karli, so he caved.

James leaned over on the counter to make sure you were 100% okay being left along with Zemo, reminding you at any time you can call and they'd rush back instantly for whatever reason.

You stood up slowly, balancing the ice pack on your shoulder and shuffled over a few steps towards him, "Thank you. Now, go."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You waved to to your friends a second round of goodbyes for the day. You sagged against the counter, temporarily forgetting about Zemo for the moment. You really needed to lie down.

As if he read your thoughts, you suddenly felt his presence as an arm wrapped around your waist, resting firmly against your hip.

"Here, let me help you get someplace more comfortable than this," Zemo asserted, taking his free hand and dropping the ice pack from your shoulder onto the counter. He then grabbed your left hand, raising your arm and wrapped it around his neck to help support you. So now most of your weight is on your left side, allowing your right to have most of the pressure released from your injuries.

You were so close to him you could smell his expensive cologne and aftershave. It was intoxicating and caused your head to swim a little. You stumbled slightly, but Zemo kept you steady as you both made your way to your room.

In your exhausted state, you managed to sneak in a few glances to Zemo, who was concentrating on the task at hand, not wanting to cause any jarring movements. He deserved more credit than you had been giving him; he truly did seem to care in his own warped way.

Once you had gotten to your room, he guided you to the bed to lie down. Not once had you complained. A true testament of just how tired you were. You couldn't even muster a snarky reply at his disheveled state of being, from practically dragging you down the hallway.

You snuggled into the hoodie you were wearing and tried to lie in a position that wouldn't cause too much discomfort for your shoulder and ribs.

Zemo had stepped into the closet and when he returned he came back with a couple extra pillows. He propped them against your injured side to prevent you from rolling over during the night.

If nothing else, Zemo was incredibly thorough when he focused on something. And right now, that focus was you. It was unnerving, but also thrilling at the same time. Maybe you did have a head injury, because all you could do was smirk at how utterly adorable he was tending to you. It made you curious as to whether this was what Zemo was like before. For the first time, you really wanted to know more about him.

You saw how he was confident in everything he does, and this situation was no different apparently. He had been muttering to himself as he adjusted bedding and made sure there was nothing in the room that you could trip over if you had to get up. He was taking in all the possibilities, like you did.

He had been actively avoiding looking at you though since Bucky and Sam left. You weren't entirely sure why, as he's had zero problems watching you over the past several days. You have a feeling it's because you're one of a few people who have seen beneath the surface of Helmut Zemo, and he's reacting the only way he knows how to at this moment.

Distraction.

You were too sleepy to ponder this any further and turned your head to the side to see what Zemo was fiddling with now.

He had finished up the last of his tasks and looked around the room satisfied with his work. Only then did he turn to look at you.

If it had been anyone else, you would swear that Zemo almost seemed nervous. He was, at many times in your experience, hard to read; so all of these new expressions are a different side for you to see.

Zemo tentatively sat on the edge of the bed next to you.

"Do you need anything?" he genuinely inquired.

You shook your head, indicating you didn't.

All of a sudden he laughed. It ended nearly as quickly as it had began. You raised an eyebrow him in reply, but he simply tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie you were still wearing.

Too tired to be embarrassed about it, you simply mumbled, "Shut up. I still plan on giving it back, although, given it's track record, you should quite possibly get rid of it. After what happened today, I think it might be bad luck."

You saw Zemo dip his head and chuckle at your reply. He look much more carefree when he laughed. You'd have to add him to your daily list. Make Zemo laugh.

His expression sobered rather quickly though and became pensive after that, staring out the window briefly before resting his gaze back on you.

"You keep it. It looks better on you."

Not knowing what to say, caught up in the storm in his eyes, you give a small smile. You can feel your cheeks turning red under the intensity of his stare.

Zemo stood up, getting ready to leave when you stopped him by latching onto his wrist.

"Wait," you murmured.

The swift action caused him to furrow his brow in confusion.

You weren't sure exactly what you wanted from him, only that you didn't want him to go.

"Stay."

You could tell you startled him with your request. Your eyes grew larger realizing the potential double meaning.

"Just until I fall asleep?" you clarified, a yawn escaped as you covered your mouth.

Zemo visibly relaxed and had you relinquish your hold on his arm so he could pull up a chair to your bed. He turned his head around the room in search of something. He went to the nightstand and picked up your book.

Amusement flitted across the features of his face as he read the cover. Zemo sat down on the chair and propped his feet up on the side of the bed.

You shut your eyes and tried to block out the soreness covering your body. Tomorrow would be worse. The next day always is. You had begun to doze off, when ever so quietly, you heard Zemo's voice fill the room.

He was reading to you. Lulling you into a peaceful sleep and letting you know he was still present. Wanting you to know, in his own way, he was upholding his promise to Bucky and Sam. That you were safe with him. That you could trust him just as you had, when you asked him to stay in the first place.

With those final thoughts, you drifted off, listening to the subdued sound of his voice.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #tfatws #bucky barnes #sam wilson #my writing #team zemo #baron zemo #the falcon and the winter soldier #mcu imagine

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Note

NZ and Artie hcs pretty please! Something 🥺 thank youuuu

Sorry this took me so long to answer!

I should start with something 'overall' first. I've enjoyed seeing different fandom interpretations of New Zealand throughout the years- as a shy golden boy, to rambunctious fellow play fighter, to mud weary tomboy, to a poised daughter, or all at once. For me, potentially due to how Zea has been canonically drawn, New Zealand is non-binary. What they've got going on under there ain't my business and they certainly don't care. I’ve therefore given them the name ‘Alex’- for the feminine or masculine version, who’s to say.

They very much live by the feeling 'I am New Zealand', and whatever that entails. Nothing more, nothing less.

Childhood/ Teenagerhood:

England had really settled into the swing of things at this point. He was used to children, used to parenting in general- the ups and downs of it - and used to keeping his children at more of a distance emotionally than he had with Canada and America. So, by the time Zea came about there was a smoother transition into family life than there had been for poor old OZ. Australia, who had a few brief years of England as a more affectionate, happy, and relaxed parent, was abruptly cut from contact for a few years and then reintroduced to someone stricter and far more distant and which has left their relationship a bit strained at times.

Zea knew nothing else. From the get go, England set a standard of behaviour and maintained it. On the one hand this was good: Zea never struggled around England, either in being comfortable in his presence or with the 'new' rules that were in place, and also never suffered from any sort of consequence that came from having a parental figure suddenly do a 180 on you.

On the other hand, they did grow up slightly lacking in the affection department. They knew England loved them, but as soon as they became a little older there were less hugs, less kisses, less of playing silly games and more study, learning, and filling their days with their own company. They were used to this and it didn’t bother them at the time, but compared to their older brothers, or younger ones (seeing him with Sealand does spark some bitterness), they certainly missed out, and have inherited England’s current (in)ability to interact physically with loved ones- they’re not overly touchy-feely and express love through acts of service or gift giving.

Mainly though, Zea's childhood was good and quite stable. They were home schooled, but England also used to like sending them off for playdates with noble families with children to get them more acquainted to people their physical age, or would take Zea with him into town to work with their politicians or their tradesmen. Zea thus spent a lot of their time waiting, either sitting on the floor of England's study, or somewhere around him outside, watching and listening to him work and talk shop with people.

Nations are robust things, sturdy and, surrounded by their people, not really in too much danger. I think England was rather lax in this regard with his children (someone who had a childhood of wandering around villages, foraging for food, and being personally thrust into war from a young age will hardly find a town centre in the 1800s dangerous) and used to leave New Zealand with some local children for entertainment if he needed to go and do things that required a bit more time than a quick chat.

Because of this, a humdrum of business is something New Zealand finds to be a soothing white noise, something they can filter out or tune into easily, and they appreciate this unorthodox education. They’re also very happy with their own company and can entertain, and soothe, themselves independently.

Not to go on too much of a tangent (because I do do that, in these posts), I just want to quickly touch upon Zea and Oz’s relationship because I think that helped cover up for what they were lacking in terms of openness and easy affection from England- Zea because they never really had it, and Oz because he was missing it. Due to how close they are geographically, and potentially because England on some level felt guilty for his inability to fully let himself go and open up to them, New Zealand and Australia spent quite a lot of time with each other in either of their lands from England moving them about with him when he visited one or the other. Both were also sometimes taken back home with him to the UK and a lot of Zea’s exposure to a more ‘traditional’ Kirkland upbringing comes from their time with their bother- playfights, arguments, mischief, and an open easiness with each other’s raw and unfiltered company.

Back on topic and to summarise, New Zealand's childhood relationship with England was a good one. As I mentioned in my Canada headcanon post about a similar topic, England is very, very good with small children and Zea was no different. But as they got older this decreased rapidly, something that they considered perfectly acceptable at the time but now is something they sometimes look back on with a small amount of hurt and confusion.

Teenagerhood they were very used to being on their own and, funnily, when you think about what England was trying to do, very independent. Not independent like America, with his fights for recognition as an independent entity removed from England, but independent personally. A childhood of watching England work and playing often by themselves meant that Zea as a teenager was studious, quiet, and happy to be left alone or taken out for company (similar to Wales in personality, I reckon. Need their alone time and will take themselves away if this is not given).

Arguments with England were rare- Zea’s not one for butting heads but would much rather learn the ins and outs of everything and then put forth and argument for change. England may be a hothead and stubborn, but he’s not closed minded. It’s how you approach him that matters and Zea caught onto this early. Whereas Australia would shout or refuse to do that he was asked if he didn’t want to, or would put up some form of fight, New Zealand would instead do the task, do it well, and then request time with England to formally present him with all of the reasons their proposal was far better.

England being told he is wrong will likely not listen if he believes himself to be right (even if he has doubts, someone telling him that his way is bad will make him stubbornly cling to it just to prove them wrong and himself justified for doing it in the first place- clawing and scraping for even an inch of a victory). But England being told that someone has thought of a different way, and asking for his opinion on it, is far more likely to inspire change. He feels valued and goes into the discussion with an open mind that most often went in New Zealand’s favour.

Because of this, they do have a reputation of having England wound around their little finger from a young age. But really, they were just smart enough to figure England out and use it to their advantage. They were also smart enough not to overplay this hand, and so their teenagerhood was peaceful and calm.

Adulthood:

As adults, the two are on very good terms. England prefers adult children to teenaged ones, especially calm, well-mannered ones, and this relationship improved after Zea got their independence. Rather like a burst of relief from England’s end, I feel- he’d spent so long paranoid about his colonies leaving him that this clouded his enjoyment of them. With them finally independent, that worry is redundant and he can enjoy them for the people they are. And Arthur likes Alex, he really does. He finds them mature, funny, and intelligent. The two have similar hobbies and interests and England often spends time with them travelling about to beaches or passing book recommendations back and forth.

Being nations heavily shaped and surrounded by the sea, this is something that is a huge passion for the both of them and they often go sailing together on the ocean, either on smaller boats by the shore or for larger trips out to sea. Arthur willingly took all of his children out to sea, but Alex was the only one who really took to it and shares a similar hunger for it as he does. They’re probably the least openly affectionate pair of all of the Arthur- child relationships, but that doesn’t mean he loves Alex any less and, most of the time, Alex knows this and is content with the way things are. As mentioned in my Canada post though, England is trying to improve himself in this area in the modern day and he’s trying really hard with Zea, (though this is sometimes awkward for the both of them.)

#hws england #hws new zealand #aph england #aph new zealand #arthur kirkland #hetalia headcanons #aph #hws #hetalia #heroes headcanons #heroes answers #rein-ette #aph australia #hws australia

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ashdoesfandomarchieved · 3 years

Text

of all i am made of (perhaps you are too)

ao3

Hugo does not believe in soulmates.

To be fair, he doesn’t much believe in anything but the feeling of coin in his pocket and the clever bite of his dagger. What use has he for god and destiny when he carves his own path of lies through time, with a sharp tongue and a cocky smile.

Why should Hugo believe the universe would gift him a soulmate when it already has made it perfectly clear that nothing is free?

Besides soulmates are rarities of the past--legends and folktales on the lips of elders and religious fanatics; the former clinging to superstition from the od era, the latter feeding false promises and hope to the instupid masses.

Soulmates are for hopeless romantics and tiny children. Not for Hugo.

“That does not surprise me,” Nuru says, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face.

She’s lying down in the golden field where they’ve set camp for the night. The contrast of the bright yellow against her dark skin is stunning-particularly in the moonlight, with her dark hair fanning out about her head.

Hugo, who is sitting upright a few paces away and playing with his daggers, frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, unsure if he should be feeling defensive or not.

Nuru folds her arms beneath her head, propping herself up enough to make eye contact with him. “Even if you had a soulmate, you wouldn’t know what to do with them,” she scoffs.

He snorts. “ You believe in soulmates?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes, actually. I thought you were the rational one in this party.”

Nuru gives him an expression that indicates how stupid she thinks he is. “I might be the only person who can keep their head in a crisis, but that doesn’t mean I can’t believe in a higher power, Hugo.”

She rolls over, so that she’s laying on her stomach, facing him. “Burning stars fall in my homeland every year. There are stories of a sun princess who’s tears heal the dead. Varian somehow hasn’t strangled you yet. I think you’d better start believing in a god.”

“Or soulmates apparently,” Hugo mutters.

“Or soulmates,” Nuru says. “Would it really be that far-fetched?”

“Do I believe there’s someone out there who shares my dreams? Or has my name written above their heart? Hard pass, Princess.”

“Alright then, how about sharing the same soul?” Nuru asks, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “You’re telling me that doesn’t sound at least a little romantic?”

“I don’t have a soul.”

“Now that,” she says, a grin stretching across her face, “that I can believe.”

___

“I think Anya’s my soulmate,” Yong says dreamily, staring at Varian’s redheaded cousin like she hung the fucking moon.

Hugo, despite secretly adoring the round child, rolls his eyes. Hard. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It means we share the same time threads,” Yong replies distractedly.

Varian and Anya are nerding out over something-something Hugo would find interesting or fun to mock them over, but right now, for some reason, he’s more interested in Yong’s adorable-if not misguided-crush on Varian’s little cousin.

“Time threads,” Hugo laughs, cracking his knuckles. Yong winces at the noise, momentarily taking his eyes off the two babbling alchemists. “Alright, color me curious. What are time threads?”

Yong frowns. “You’ve never heard of time threads? Every child in Koto learns about them.”

Ah, must be some religious poppycock only spread in the fire kingdom.

“Well, I’m not a child living in Koto, am I?” Hugo replies lightly. “Spill, little pyro.” He pokes the kid in the shoulder repeatedly until he gets swatted.

“Her lady, Odiyesi, spins a thread for each person,” Yong recites in a sing-song voice. “This thread contains the beginning, the middle, and the end of our lives. If she so chooses, two threads will be intertwined-maybe even beyond the Snip, if she wills it.”

“The Snip?”

“Oh yeah, that’s when you die,” Yong says, side eyeing Hugo.

Hugo ruffles Yong’s hair. “And you think Anya is your thread partner. That’s so cute .”

Yong ducks out from under his hand, scowling. “Why did you ask if you don’t even believe it?” he mumbles, face pink.

“You know what I think?” Hugo asks, pretending like he doesn’t hear Yong. “I think you should go right up to here and tell her all that. Give her a heads up about your eternally bound souls.”

“Your soul is eternally bound to the underworld,” Yong shoots back, with a surprising amount of fire.

Hugo bursts into laughter. “That,” he says, “is the first thing you’ve said all day that makes sense.”

___

“What do you think about soulmates?” Hugo asks mildly. He has a glass of wine in one hand, but he’s barely tasted it. Instead, he stands, staring out the stained glass window and into the courtyard.

Donella, sitting behind her desk, looks up from Varian’s Ulla’s journal-recently procured by Hugo.

The amount of deception and sneaking around he’d gone through to actually get it out of Varian’s line of sight had been painstakingly difficult. And it had been even harder coming up with an excuse to Nuru why he needed to spend the night somewhere other than their current lodgings.

He doesn’t really remember the lie. Just the trust in the Princess’s face when she’d briefly patted him on the shoulder, telling him to be back by sunrise.

Donella closes the journal with a snap, leaning back in her chair. “What a curious question. And from you, no less.”

When Hugo turns around, she’s smiling that sharp smile-the one that makes his stomach plummet with discomfort. Something in him churns at that dangerous expression now, unsure of what he’s suddenly gotten himself into.

He gives a casual shrug, raising his glass to his lips. “Just making idle conversation, I suppose.” The wine tastes terrible. Still, he takes another sip before setting it down on an end table.

“Hmm.” His mentor eyes him skeptically. “What do I think about soulmates?” she muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose the proper answer would be that I hate them.”

He frowns. “So you don’t believe in them?”

“You can’t hate something you don’t believe in, Hugo. Of course I believe in soulmates.” Donella must see the surprise in his expression because she laughs after a brief pause. “I would be hard pressed not to believe in them after seeing it with my own two eyes.”

Hugo blinks, startled. “You met someone with a soulmate?” he asks, disbelieving.

“You could say that.”

“How do-how did you know they were-”

She opens the stolen journal again, long scared fingers deftly flipping back to her reading place. “Because I could feel when she was in pain. Now shut up, Waif, I still have three quarters of this tedious reading to get through and only five more hours to do it.”

___

Even though Eugene has decided to make the conscious effort not to kill Hugo, the guy still shows mild animosity. And by mild, Hugo-of course-means that he drags him around, making him do tedious tasks and scowls whenever he gets close to Varian.

Whatever. It’s not as if Hugo’s going to complain, considering that it’s mostly his fault there was a demon monster briefly unleashed onto Corona that destroyed most of her capital city. As long as Varian isn’t blaming himself, Hugo calls it a win.

So he lets the Prince Consort drag him around the city and put his alchemy to work.

“You don’t have to stay,” Hugo says, at one point, when it becomes apparent that even though Eugene has no idea how alchemy works , he was still going to hover. “I’m not going to cut and run.”

The man had snorted. “Yeah, I already figured that one out for myself,” he’d muttered and then proceeded to not explain what that meant.

So here Hugo is, with an ever present shadow, hovering like he’s a fucking five year old. Hugo honestly doesn’t see what Varian sees in the guy-or Queen Rapunzel for that matter. She looks at the ex-thief like he hung the moon and all the damn stars in the sky.

“It’s because they’re soulmates,” Eugene’s buddy-Lance, Hugo thinks-had said when he caught him staring.

Hugo had scoffed.

Now, bored and overheated after a long day’s work, Hugo watches Eugene frown over some blueprints in the Queen’s study. Hugo’s not exactly sure why he has to be present for this particular part of the renovation project, but he’s too tired to protest.

“Are you and the queen soulmates?” he hears himself asking.

Eugene lifts his head, eyes alight with surprise. He glances back down at the blueprints once, before leaving the table to join Hugo by the open doors leading to the balcony.

“Weird question, coming from you,” he snorts, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “But yes. We are.”

Hugo doesn’t know what to make of that. “How do you know?”

The older man hesitates, something like understanding dawning on the man’s face. A small smile crosses lips. “Have you ever met someone that no matter how many times you tried to walk away, you couldn’t?”

Hugo swallows.

“That’s how I know. Now,” he claps Hugo on the shoulder. “If you’ll stop messing around, I need your opinion on whether Yong’s demolition idea or Varian’s solvent solution is going to work best for the lower district’s avalanche problem.”

___

At the end of all things-or perhaps the beginning-Hugo finds Varian on a rooftop.

It’s not hard to find him, as when Varian is brooding, he likes to perch. It’s a habit that the alchemist has either picked up from spending most of his time in a castle with high roofs or perhaps it’s born of chasing his dumb racoon into precarious positions.

Either way, Hugo learns early into his friendship with the darkhaired boy, that when he’s being introspective, he likes to pick a high roof and perch like a fucking woodland creature.

So when Varian goes missing in the middle of Corona’s lantern festival, it takes precious few minutes to find him.

“You are so predictable,” Hugo says, dropping down next to him. Heights don’t usually bother him, but the castle is impressively tall.

The other alchemist doesn’t really seem to mind, however. He lets his legs dangle over the edge, occasionally swinging in the air.

“Or maybe I wanted you to find me,” Varian replies easily. His head--tilted up, toward the stars that are mirrored in the constellations of freckles on his face-is wearing a peaceful expression.

Something in Hugo’s chest clenches tightly at the sight of it. There was a time, not too long ago, where he was convinced he’d never see Varian happy again.

But now, Varian turns his face toward Hugo and offers him a smile. “Or maybe I’m just predictable to you.”

The tightness in Hugo’s chest dissipates. What is left aches for something he can’t have.

“Or that,” Hugo says, instead of doing something stupid like trying to hold Varian’s hand or kiss the stupid expression off his face.

Varian turns back to the stars.

“You know, they say shooting stars fall in the direction of your soulmate.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “Not you too,” he groans, eliciting laughter from his friend. “I thought out of everyone, you would be on my side here.”

“Aw, don’t believe in soulmates?” Varian teases, grinning boyishly. “Sun and moon, I should have expected that.”

“Yeah?” Hugo raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

“You’re so cynical. And not in the way Cass is-she’s like realistically -cynical. You’re just oh poor me I could never have a soulmate because my soul is made of garbage -”

Hugo clamps a hand over Varian’s mouth, shrieking when he tries to lick him. “I- stop -I don’t have to listen to this slander -”

“-and if you ever did find your soulmate you would be insufferable about it,” Varian goes on, catching Hugo’s wrist when he tries to silence him again. “You would spend the entire time trying to prove to yourself and everyone else that there was no possible way they could be your soulmate and when you couldn’t you would-”

He stops. Blinks at Hugo with realization dawning across his face.

Hugo’s wonders if Varian can feel his pulse racing where the smaller boy’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yeah? What would I do?”

Varian’s lips purse. “I don’t know what you would do. I’d hope you would be smart about it.”

He lets go of Hugo.

Hugo immediately misses his warmth.

“And what would be the smart thing.”

“Well,” Varian draws out the word thoughtfully. He scoots close enough to Hugo that if the taller boy wanted he could wrap and arm around his shoulder. “Well, an excellent start would be telling them.”

“And how would you tell them? If it were you,” Hugo adds quickly, when Varian shoots him a questioning look.

Varian leans back on his hands, head tipped back, exposing his throat to the sky. “I would tell them my heart started beating at the same time as theirs when we touched. That there’s a silver dagger inked on my shoulder that burns when they’re angry and sings when they’re sad-”

“Varian.” Hugo’s heart clenches so hard he briefly wonders if he’s having a heart attack.

“-I would tell them that I dreamed in color the first night we lay side by side in the forest,” Varian goes on, ignoring him. “I would tell them that when we touch I see every color-even the ones that don’t belong here.”

“Varian.”

Hugo’s hand finds his soulmate's.

Varian turns his head to the side slightly, finally meeting Hugo’s eye. With his free hand, he cups the side of Hugo’s neck, tentatively.

“I would tell him that our souls are made of the same thing.” He smiles gently. “It’s just science, Hugo.”

Hugo laughs, pressing his forehead into Varian’s. “How is that the most romantic thing you’ve said yet?”

“Because you’re a closet nerd,” Varian says, right before he leans in.

Underneath a starlit sky, Hugo kisses the boy made of the same stuff as him.

___

#varigo #hugo vat7k #varian #nuru vat7k #yong vat7k #eugene fitzherbert #my fanfic #vat7k fanfic #tts #tts fafic

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

cherry starbursts

pairing: bakugou/reader (male reader in mind but is gender neutral)

warnings: none, i think?? lots of cussing though, courtesy of lord explosion murder

words: 3.6k

a/n: yuzuya's audios giving me so much brainrot...gonna be thinking about this all week. also the way this started out as god tier writing but gradually turned into shit at the end 🏃 nonetheless, i hope i did this gremlin man justice </3

a contemplative hum tickles your throat as you observe the paragraph laid out before you, the pads of your fingers tingling as you trail them across the pages. on the occasions where you've found your nose nestled deep within them, a muted scent of pears and sawdust would invade your senses, and the urge to rest your head in the plains of your chemistry textbook would become overwhelming. however, the threat of being cuffed over the head by a rolled up magazine makes you think twice about slacking off, so you begrudgingly slump back into your seat with a resigned huff. the clock in your dorm is no doubt ticking away like always; the second hand rounding at great speeds while the minute and hour hands crawl by at a sluggish pace; but you aren't there to hear it.

instead, you reside in bakugou's room, basking in the unencumbered atmosphere created solely by his diligent efforts to keep his space clean and organized. it's just the way he is, you have to remind yourself. not because you stubbed your toe on his dumbbells last week and he felt sufficiently guilty as to make sure nothing was in your path the next time you visited. that would be silly. all that considered, bakugou's room isn't much different from your own—save for the few comfort objects brought from home that give off a hospitable air—but the lack of stimulus it holds is apparent. anything that could disturb your tranquil study date has either been stored away or placed beyond your reach.

damn him, the bastard! he's completely oblivious, you silently muse, bracing your elbows on the desk to plant your face in the palms of your hands. you chastise yourself at the same moment for forgetting your headphones, but in your defense, bakugou screaming for you to hurry up had prompted a hasty departure. if he had the patience to wait two more minutes. . .

rather than finishing the thought, you pull the textbook closer, hoping that somehow the enlarged print will stick to your brain like a temporary tattoo. you only need this information long enough to pass the exam, but once it's over, you swear you'll never mention anything chemistry related unless it's the bond between you and your neighbor. the idle scratching of pencil led against paper erupts from his side of the room, lessening the static in your head by a fraction, but it doesn't last. he mutters something unintelligible under his breath as you spin in your chair to look at him in desperation.

he remains ignorant for the next minute or so, only glancing up at you briefly before returning to his notes. your nostrils flare as you reach down to untangle your laces and pull off your shoe. you chickened out last time this happened, but being ignored has successfully fed the flames of your frustration, and you simply will not stand for it any longer. you blame your sleep-addled mentality for the lack of better aim, but it stokes your pride when bakugou flinches as your shoe hurdles past his shoulder.

"the hell was that for, dumbass!?" he growls, his eyes narrowing into slits. you respond with a high pitched whine; one that would be considered overexaggerated in his opinion, but in yours, was perfectly reasonable when being held against your will to study a subject that has no business being this tedious. "sukiii, i'm booored."

the blonde makes a 'tch' sound, positioning his arm in a warning manner before throwing his pencil at you, which you manage to catch easily. you revel in the deflated expression he wears, twirling the pencil between your fingers and kicking a leg over one arm of the chair. all this, while never breaking eye contact, was sure to break through to him. you're hopeful, what with the way katsuki's gaze—gradually failing to hide his infatuation—travels over your build from head to toe. whether because you giggle at his reaction or decide to kick your feet like a giddy child, he snaps out of his trance with an all too familiar scowl and shuts his own textbook with unnecessary force. his demanding stare is fixated on you as he tosses it haphazardly to the edge of the bed.

"give me back my pencil, idiot." he completely ignores your previous statement and jumps straight into business, as always. "give me back my shoe first, hot stuff." you challenge, smirking in a way that you very well know gets him hot under the collar. the teasing endearment will either put the odds in your favor; earning you your shoe as desired, and perhaps the lovely little blush that often dusts his face whenever you flirt with him; or seal your fate in hell where the everlasting flames may burn similarly, if not just as hotter than bakugou's explosions. it has taken years of practice to uphold your smug attitude in the face of his unyielding rage; nose wrinkled and canines grinding. even now, he is the image of perfection—a powerful god emblazoned in brimstone and baneful inferno—and you, a mere lover of art. after a moment, bakugou's resolve seems to falter. his piecing glare relents only slightly to give way for a pensive expression as he sighs, gently rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. he throws you your shoe while standing from the bed, and as you slip it on, he shuffles over to his clothes drawer to pull out his own pair of sneakers. this prompts you to raise a brow inquisitively, but your silent question is left unanswered up until bakugou claps a hand on your shoulder and grumbles.

"c'mon, i'm fucking starving. there's a seven eleven nearby that's got spicy ramen."

and just like that, all thoughts pertaining to the test have been pulverized to dust by katsuki's unrelenting fists. the promise of food after hours of relentless mental abuse has you brushing off the sudden change of inclination in seconds, meanwhile the hothead to your right mulls over it during your trek through the empty hallways, stuffing his arms into the holes of his jacket. he had been able to overlook your constant fidgeting and intermittent noises of vexation, but too soon it became obvious that you weren't getting anywhere with the session. he would have simply offered to help if not for his own inability to concentrate, which had made itself known within the last half hour when he caught himself staring at you between taking notes. so what if he found your pouting cute? just maybe, he had started to fall in love with the way your brows furrowed at the instance of a misunderstood question; the absentminded tugging of your earlobe; the way your eyes looked without seeing, as if the smallest things held the greatest importance. sure, the tapping of your nails against a desk was a bit much, but he could always put a stop to your fretting by lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand. just maybe, your bashful reactions made him want to hold you closer; to see you lounging across his lap—a throne befitting for a king—with your rose hued cheeks nestled in the crook of his neck.

not that you needed to know any of that. no fucking way would he endow another reason for you to tease him when the list was already so long.

curfew isn't for another hour, but bakugou would rather not waste time dawdling, so he uses this as reasoning for hooking your arm with his and practically hauling you out the exit. he mutters something about you being "too fucking slow" and "leaving you behind if you don't keep up", but the fact that he's dragging you along at all shows that he would have no problem resorting to desperate matters. the right amount of groveling and or compromising might mean a piggyback ride to the store, but regardless of how tempting the idea is, you decide not to further burden your friend with carrying you.

the towering shape of heights alliance becomes more and more like a speck of dust as your journey continues, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your already weary mind. you eye katsuki's side profile, noting the distinct lack of malice upon his handsome features, and smile softly to yourself. friend. it was the first word that occurred to you, albeit the least desirable and in no way comparable to the term that caused your heart to flutter within the confinements of your ribcage.

you aren't together. you don't know if you'll ever be, but when the the milieu; brimming with chaotic screams, booming laughter and disorderly merriment belonging to that of your closest friends; is whisked from the narrative, katsuki looks at you differently. whatever fragments of disdain and spite tend to crumble within the first few seconds and are replaced by an emotion that was unheard of ever having manifested in the depths of his vermillion hues. it holds a semblance to adoration, perhaps even respect, and for as long as you can recall, that is all you've wanted to see from him: to be regarded like no other.

sure, it's not like how you dreamed—he isn't very affectionate in public, though you doubt he would be even if you were together, and it always stings when he shrugs your affections off with a deriding comment—but that's just it. it's not a dream. after every scornful remark; after the day has passed and the dwindling moon takes its place in the evening sky, breaking through the curtains of his dorm; he'll kiss your hand, your blooming cheeks, your lips, all to atone for it. where no one else can see, he treats you like a divine being, and part of you wishes to think that it's because he's selfish. a bit of possessiveness has lead to many nights of a shared bed, ruffled sheets and smothering cuddles, but who are you to complain? everything he gives you is more real than any well-constructed reverie.

he may not be yours, and you may not be his, but no one else will suffice for either of you, and that is the unspoken truth.

the minimal bitterness in the autumn breeze makes for a refreshing atmosphere with the only discontent being the hunger that claws at your stomach. bakugou has never been merciful towards anyone, let alone the self-acclaimed nuisance who interrupts his studying with half-baked plans of adventure, but you're ever so grateful for the rare times where he is.

you know you won't have to wait long now that the smell of milk bread and takoyaki trickles into the air, much like the faint pitter patter of raindrops on the concrete. the shower is horribly ill-timed, but you hardly mind, especially when the droplets cling to bakugou's eyelashes like crystalline gemstones; glimmering faintly with every blink as they catch the suns rays. it settles below the horizon, only a sliver of golden yellow to be seen dancing in the tree boughs above, and the fuck if the way it illuminates your not-boyfriend's visage isn't absolutely breathtaking. the glimpse of honeyed skin and kissable lips—pulled into a pensive pout—draws you in deeper, and deeper, and oh god i've been caught—

"you got a staring problem, dumbass?" he grumbles, a roseal color dusting his ears that he swears is from the cold.

even his offensive nicknames are laced with an abnormal tenderness, and knowing that you're the only one with the privilege to hear it causes your chest to swell with delight. you nibble your bottom lip, hoping that it will somehow hide the fleet of giggles bubbling in your throat, but it does no such thing. "yeah, it's weird. whenever i see something beautiful, i just feel compelled to stare at it."

you don't need to look at him to know you've struck a nerve, but you do anyways, and his face grows redder under the intensity of your teasing leer. he sputters, curses falling from past his lips like a waterfall, and rips his arm from your grasp to cradle it as if you've burned him. any sane person would have backed down the second mini explosions began flaring up from his palms, however, you are perhaps the exact opposite, as to be expected when surrounding yourself with the infamous bakusquad, who (excluding bakugou) procured one braincell to share amongst themselves. years of having to put up with and, by extension, learn how to effectively handle bakugou's fits have proven to be time well spent.

you remain none the wiser to the concerned stares of others as he spouts a line of insults; incomprehensible from behind his curled fist pressed tightly to his mouth.

"you-you can't just say that kinda shit out loud, dumbass!" and although he may seem mad, he's already dragging you down the street. you test your luck by huddling closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, your steady pace never faltering.

"is the katsuki bakugou stumbling over his words from a little compliment?" it almost feels like you've won, but then the blonde proceeds to cover your face with his still damp hand. the little shit had timed it perfectly so that your open mouth would taste the saltiness of his sweat—quite the contrary to its sugary caramel aroma—and if you weren't so preoccupied by the resonance of his cackling laugh, you might have spent the rest of the trip gagging and complaining about the whole ordeal. he hardly seems bothered, wiping your saliva on his trousers and going forth with that customary lumbering strut, which always has you torn between fawning, chortling or questioning if he has fucking weights down his pants.

nonetheless, you can't help but murmur how cute he looks as you swing your free arm in tune with your steps.

by the time you've arrived at the shop, the sun has long since disappeared; welcoming hues of purple, navy blue and hints of orange to dapple the heavens, along with the foretelling of stars. you can't begin to describe how lucky you are to be living in a city with such beautiful scenery, even when the thin clouds of smog from factories often hinder your view of it. the fluorescent lights from the 'open' sign flash sporadically, casting a cobalt glow to dance across your dazed expression. katsuki watches with intent, chuckling at how easily distracted you can get as he tugs you inside by the cloth of your shirt.

the person behind the cash register spares a customary greeting before returning to their magazine, and bakugou makes a beeline for the intended isle, something akin to excitement radiating from him. he wears it much differently, and it resembles is go-to callous guise in almost every way, but you're able to detect the slight shift in demeanor as if its the easiest thing in the world. you hardly register that he's removed himself from you until the distance grows too large to ignore, and you shuffle over to the place beside him with a newfound adrenaline. the crisp air of the corner store heightens your senses as you tap your foot to the pop song playing overhead.

the only other sound is of katsuki examining the ramen and deciding what level of spice he should get, encouraging you to ponder what sort of hellish nightmare he has planned for the rest of the group. it was just last week when he dared kaminari to try some of the noodles, and the poor boy had spent ten minutes weeping in snot-nosed agony that you would have to be insane to put something that hot in your mouth. bakugou had laughed at his misery and carried on eating with vigor, mocking the others for their weak taste buds.

after a beat of silence, you decide to test your luck again by poking is shoulder, as well as batting your eyelashes at him and cocking your head to the side.

"can we get some candy?"

bakugou waves his hand dismissively, which is all the conformation you need before rounding the corner to peruse the variety of sweets on display. you immediately spot the marked parcels of sour gumdrops and assorted licorice and giggle to yourself as you pick them out, unaware of the gentle smile the blonde wears in regards to your child-like glee.

"yeah, just don't eat it all in one sitting. you go through that shit way too fast—it's unhealthy."

you won't bother commenting on his strict, motherly advisement, because you know it's in his best interest. he's grumbled about "stuffing your body with all that garbage" on numerous occasions, and while the hypocrisy might have annoyed you at one point ("and i assume gouging yourself on spicy ramen is completely different?") you realized rationing your candy would benefit both your health and your wallet. you nod, despite knowing he can't see, and idly feel for your back pocket, wondering just how much katsuki plans to stock up. money isn't exactly an issue, so you suppose it doesn't matter, but the amount of packets he normally brings back is downright criminal.

"don't be shy," he eventually says, "i'm buying. you're responsible enough not to buy out the whole store, right?"

your confusion overwhelms the urge to roll your eyes at his sarcasm, but there also lies a hint of elation that he would offer to buy.

"i figured i'd be paying as compensation for messing with you." you stand on the tips of your toes to poke your head over the isle, feeling very tempted to ruffle his hair whilst he gathers the packages of ramen into his basket.

"nah, you can pay me back in some other way." his eyes flick upwards to meet your devilish smirk, and he turns away with an affronted noise, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"oh? i can't wait to see what you have in mind~."

and there go the sparks. they last but a few moments before katsuki composes himself, presumably because he realizes making a scene won't help the situation, but he still throws a glare at you from a distance as he beckons you closer. it seems like he's gotten all he needs, so you hastily grab whatever sweets are left on your mental list and rush back to the counter. a comfortable silence sits between you both as your items are checked out, and in that time, you observe the significant difference between pre-late-night-shopping-run bakugou and food-deprived-study-date bakugou. his shoulders are more relaxed, as is his facial appearance, and you'll be damned if you ever forget the way he smiles when he catches you looking from his peripheral vision.

it's soft and unguarded and leaves you struggling for breath as he waits for the cashier to turn away, then promptly laces your fingers together. what? katsuki takes the bag and pulls you effortlessly; like a ragdoll; a mere toy at his disposal; out into the brisk evening. his thumb brushes the back of your hand, making you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it, and he titters freely. what? the streetlamps glint brightly, flickering at random intervals as you travel onward at a leisurely pace. the roads closest to U.A. aren't as packed as the ones deeper into the city, and thus you are the only two souls to be found, save for the few cars that speed by under the faint luminescence of nearing traffic lights. katsuki squeezes your palm, then slithers his hand out of your hold to replace it at your waist, methodically caressing the skin there in a way that has your knees buckling. you sputter witlessly, attempting to catch the thoughts that flee from your mind like birds to the wind. the blonde is nothing less than ecstatic to be the reason for your flustered state, and he takes full advantage of it by leaning in and hovering his mouth just inches from your own.

"i'll take my payment now." and oh lord, you think. he doesn't have to ask me twice. your lips collide with his, molding together like melted toffee; just as sweet and addictive. you've shared kisses before; ones that left you bruised and scrambling for a coverup the next day; ones that felt like fire but were tinged with honey that soothed your throat; fleeting ones that were never enough. you were sure that your need for affection would never truly be satiated unless it was from the boy you held most dear, and with the moon as your sole witness, katsuki was happy to oblige.

"starbursts. . ." he huffs after pulling away, massaging your hip to subdue your dissatisfied hum. "you taste like cherry starbursts."

he doesn't seem to mind by the way he leans in for another kiss, and another, and another, until you're a jittery mess in his arms. you press against his chest, a wistful sigh escaping you when you part once more.

"not that i'm complaining, but where's this coming from? you're usually not so touchy." the last bit of your utterance trails off as bakugou presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there. moments pass, and when he finally pulls away, its to hide his blush by walking ahead of you. "i should be able to kiss my partner whenever i please, shouldn't i?" he doesn't even give you a chance to catch up, because his words have you rooted to the spot. what urges your feet to move is the haughty smirk he tosses over his shoulder, and even then, the race has only begun; your demands for him to stop echoing down the street as you chase him.

cheeky bastard.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #bakugou x gn!reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #gn reader #mha x gn!reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you

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legendofmarshie · 3 years

Text

Zelda Villain Minecraft Headcanons ✨

Ghirahim 🗡

- He thought the game sounded dumb at first. He couldn’t see the point of a game where you could do whatever you wanted and the main “goal” was never necessary. Still, he decided to give it a shot.

- Him and the other villains all have themselves as their skins.

- His first priority on any new world is always diamond / netherite everything.

- He loves cave mining and LOVES the Nether. It reminds him of home <3

- He thinks striders are genuinely cute but would rather die than admit that to anyone.

- He also enjoys the Aether mod every now and then.

- If he discovers the build he spent hours on isn’t perfectly symmetrical he’ll kill everyone in the room and then himself.

- Skipped the End Poem almost immediately because he thought it was just credits.

- He has INSANE luck finding structures. Like Dream speedrun levels of luck. What the hell.

Zant 💫

- He loves the End and Endermen for obvious reasons.

- He once made the mistake of hitting a villager in front of an iron golem. Never again.

- He fully believes Herobrine exists and nothing can convince him otherwise.

- His Ender pearl aim is on POINT.

- He is currently amassing an army of axolotls.

- He plays with low brightness and then goes mining with not enough / no torches like a maniac.

- He normally uses a lot of grey, black, and blue in his builds. He loves the look of soul lanterns so his bases are usually covered with them.

- Read through like half the End Poem then got bored and skipped it.

- Never ever EVER let him have commands.

Vaati 🌪

- He builds 90% of all his bases on floating islands or just in the sky. Y’know. To flex.

- He’s fascinated by redstone because of all the things it can do but isn’t very good at it.

- He leaves the leaves of trees floating like the little bastard he is.

- Thinks the phantoms are actually super cool (at least design-wise) and wishes they were tameable / rideable.

- He’s basically the living embodiment of the ‘Get the fuck outta my room I’m playin Minecraft’ kid.

- Got up and made a sandwich during the End Poem.

- Has one cat. It sits in the corner he carefully nudged it into and has not moved since.

Octavo 🎸

- Obviously loves the music. Hates hates HATES the cave noises.

- If his inventory isn’t always perfectly sorted he Will Die.

- When he learned there were music discs in the game he wanted one so so badly and was so excited when he finally found one. It was 13. That jukebox went out the window, and the other villains taunt him about it to this day.

- His bases usually have a little note block doorbell. It’s the only bit of semi-complex redstone he’s any good with.

- He unironically listens to the parodies and knows every word to all of them.

- Hasn’t been to the End yet and so hasn’t seen the End Poem.

- Has too many cats. They’re everywhere. Every single one has a unique name. Oh Hylia.

Astor 🔮

- Like Ghirahim, he thought the game sounded really stupid until the other villains finally convinced him to try it.

- He still probably plays the least out of all of them though.

- He plays on hardcore mode for bragging points but cheats by making a bajillion backups.

- Shares Vaati’s opinion on phantoms.

- He goes *all out* on the enchanting room. He’s aware the effectiveness of bookshelves caps after a certain amount but that doesn’t stop him. Thought you were just gonna put silk touch on your spare pickaxe? Good luck navigating the goddamn Library of Alexandria lmaooo.

-He slaughters every other animal he comes across but refuses to kill pigs.

- The only villain that sat through and actually read the entire End Poem.

- Once he found an amethyst geode,,,,,,,,,,, HOO BOY.

#minecraft tw #pasteldontlook #ghirahim #zant #vaati #octavo #astor #minecraft #text #if anyone knows how to do the read more thing on mobile it would be very appreciated

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donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Call it what you want (3/7)

Cowritten with lizzygal

Summary - Picking up three months after you and Steve met on your fateful date, courtesy of a SugarDaddy website, things are progressing. Life continues to move along.

Steve is continuing to adjust to life as a private citizen, doing his work and building a life with you.

You're adjusting to life with Steve, searching for that safe place for the special kids under your care and moving on post-Blip with Steve at your side.

New challenges arise as the two of you discover the depths of your shared passion, what you'll do for the other and exactly how well you and your Daddy are matched for one another.

Warnings - 18+ only, explicit sexual content, sugar daddy/baby relationship, spanking, power imbalance, age gap.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Wildest dreams masterlist

Read on AO3

A sneak peak...

Friday Afternoon…

You were starting to have…reservations.

You weren’t sure if you were going to be going that night. You could say that you weren’t feeling good. Or maybe you could say you wanted to keep an eye on Sparky, who was doing really well on her antibiotics and judging from the amount of happy fires she was setting, was feeling considerably better. Or hell, maybe you’d luck out and Kurt would get stuck in the wall again?

According to Steve, it wasn’t even that big of a thing.

A fundraiser for a local charity that helped people get back on their feet post-Blip. It was literally being held at the local community center and Steve was the guest speaker. You didn’t have to get dressed up.

Hell, Steve even said you could bring Marie if you wanted. It was potluck. Marie had been cooking since yesterday downright gleefully. There was a silent auction and even some sort of a talent show planned for the night.

Yelena had refused to go. Declaring she’d babysit. She needed assistance and little fingers. Mutterings had come from her about a concern about facial recognition software. So, Yelena was a hard no.

With every step you took up the stairs on Steve’s side of his brownstone, you further convinced yourself that you couldn’t go.

You simply could not do it.

Maybe another time.

You and Steve had all the time in the world. What was the rush? You two didn’t have to share everything, you had yourself convinced.

Ok, so maybe, you’d been reading comment sections on the internet? That wasn’t a crime. Heck, you were in the pictures that had been heavily scrutinized online from the day you both took Sparky to see Bruce. In all of the comment sections were people discussing you and what you looked like, who you were, what you were doing with Steve and why he was dating you. They were far from nice comments. A lot of them weren’t even mean.

The comments were cruel, malicious, vulgar. The comments cut you deeper with every one you read and you really needed to stop reading them. Each comment dinged you. Every single one you read made you shake, feel sick, they made you feel hot and cold and jittery.

You couldn’t go to this thing tonight.

You couldn’t have people looking at you, judging you, trying to figure out what the hell Steve was doing with you when he could clearly do much better.

Your mind was set.

You were staying home.

You weren’t going and as you climbed the steps and set off down the hallway, you were running through your reasons, you were preparing yourself, you were ready to give Steve your well thought out reason. You had a whole plan worked out as you found yourself calling out for Steve, who you knew was still home.

Peering into his office…he wasn’t in there.

Steve wasn’t in the den either.

Maybe he was in his bedroom?

Steve’s voice answered you from down the hall. Confirming that for you. He was in his bedroom. Perfect.

Setting your shoulders, you went onwards down the hallway towards the light filled master. You could do this. You could say this. You had a plan. Compared to the judgement that awaited you when people saw you with Steve, as a couple, later that day, this was preferable. You couldn’t deal with that much negativity and cruelness in your life. Your life was complicated enough as was, without the opinions of every person obsessed with Steve’s love life on the internet, bouncing around your head.

Where the hell had he gotten to?

Steve’s bedroom was empty.

Light poured in his windows through gauzy. His bed was made. He’d made it. You could tell because the sheets were tucked in perfectly, the pillows arranged just so, the quilt folded up with nothing short of precision on the end of the bed.

Sounds came from the adjoining bathroom, making you stroll in and over the nice cushy throw rug, making you flex your toes in the soft tufts of it. You’d picked it out along with the teak furniture set. Up on the closet molding hung an ironed white polo shirt. Which you had not done. You yourself were not much of an ironer. In fact, you couldn’t nail down the last time you saw your iron.

However, the sight of Steve made you forget all thoughts of where the hell your iron had gotten to, because the sight of Steve made you scream.

A scream of shock and horror and disbelief.

Steve had shaved his beard.

Your Daddy was beardless.

Where had his beard gone? Why was his beard gone? What had happened to his glorious beard?

A shrill noise sprang forth from you and up your hand raised, downright accusingly at his face.

Steve even had the audacity to give you a chagrined look as he walked from the bathroom, running a hand over his smooth face. He then had the further audacity to tell you, in that boyishly charming sort of way. “I was trimming my beard and went a little too high on one side. It wasn’t even. So I had to shave it. It’ll grow back.”

And that, you pinpointed, was the exact very second when you lost your damn mind.

All those comments that you’d been reading, that you’d been thinking about and thinking about and thinking about all week, well, they sorta just crept up on you, jumped you from behind like kids in a playground fight over recess.

Continue on ao3

#wildest dreams series #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #donutloverxo #lizzygal

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the-starryknight · 3 years

Text

Aftermath of an Accidental Bond

Rated: T | No Archive Warnings | 1k

For the 2021 Summer Writin’ Challenge: Week 4 (still time to join us!) Prompt: His hands, Trope: Accidental Bonding, Craft: 2nd POV, Characters/Objects: A shapeshifter poet Summary: When you took the Mungo's third shift, you knew there would be weird shit. You just didn't expect to find the most recognizable face in the Wizarding world shoved into a hospital cot beside Draco Malfoy. Thanks to @softlystarstruck for the fantastic beta on this, and to @onbeinganangel for holding my hand as an alpha. minor warning for mention of a character being ill -- nothing graphic!

“If they can’t break this, I’m going to have to kill you, Potter,” comes the posh voice in bay three. “Can’t spend my whole life tied to an idiot saviour.”

“—like to see you try.”

You ought to go see what caused that awful crashing noise, but you’ve been in their room three times already and you really don’t want to have to walk out in the middle of your shift.

“Would you shove over?”

You’ve got three problems. First: their collective chart claims that the marriage bond was broken three hours ago, but second: neither patient seems to be aware that they are both free to leave. The third problem is named Sylvan, the willowy werewolf on a bad wolfsbane dose from bay six. He wouldn’t be an issue if it he hadn't also taken an interest in the bickering pair in bay three.

It’s obvious from the start that the second shift didn’t tell them the bond was broken. If it weren’t half three in the morning, and if you weren’t dead bored with the rest of the caseload, you probably would have gone in and done your Healerly duty.

Instead, you murmur, “Just taking a new set of vitals,” as you conduct the familiar charms. Harry Potter’s pulse is jumpy, too high to be his resting, and he’s got a flush to his cheeks even though he’s not sick.

“Thank you so much,” Potter says to you, like he’s trying to ingratiate himself. It works less well when he’s shoved into a single hospital bed in a gown he doesn’t need to be wearing, touching Draco Malfoy from shoulder to calf. “I was wondering,” Potter continues, “what your opinion is on the proper ratio of coffee to cream and sugar.”

You stare at him.

“Don’t listen to him,” Malfoy snaps, rolling his eyes.

Malfoy hesitates as you move to cast the spell to record his blood pressure. In your years on the ward, you’ve seen more Dark Marks than you can count, and even though it doesn’t bother you anymore, you try to make the charms quick for him.

Harry's fingers flick against the back of his other hand. It's barely a reassurance, but it sends Malfoy's heart rate spiking anyway.

"Fucking bond," Malfoy mutters under his breath, turning somehow even pinker.

“Is it coffee you’re fighting about now?” you ask innocently. You’re well aware they’ve fought through every imaginable subject over the past three hours.

“No,” Potter answers, as Malfoy snaps, “Yes.”

“I summoned a cuppa for Potter and he was displeased with the amount of cream I added to it — a perfectly reasonable amount if I might add, which he claims is scanty. Scanty!” Malfoy rolls his eyes at Potter.

“If the coffee still looks like coffee, there’s not enough cream." The cup in question is sitting on Potter’s side table, horribly pale and still steaming away under a warming charm.

Can’t Potter see the affection in Malfoy’s gaze? It’s so obvious to you. They move like a matched pair of wands, like the bond between them is still true even though you’re certain it’s gone. Potter’s hand twitches when Malfoy’s moves; his eyes slip to Malfoy’s lips when he talks, like he wants to take everything but can't or won't.

“You know,” Malfoy says, and you’re starting to understand why nobody else wants to deal with them. “Potter here thought it was a good idea to start reading the spellbooks in my library out loud. Do you know better than to do that?”

“Sure,” you mutter, wondering if now’s a good time for a speedy exit.

“I wasn’t just reading it willy-nilly,” Potter snaps, and he looks genuinely hurt. “I was investigating Malfoy. He’s under watch for Possession of Dark Artifacts.”

Malfoy points at you. “Even our Healer knows what’s what. This is all your fault.”

You’re about to respond, but both their eyes slide past you and you know, you know that problem number three is at the door. Sylvan is willowy, with a melodic accent and sparkling brown eyes and it’s no wonder Potter’s noticed him.

And that means you’ve got a new problem, because Malfoy’s glaring at Potter staring at Sylvan, and Sylvan’s got his stupid notebook out and he’s going to start quoting his erotic poetry at them, isn’t he?

“Excuse me,” Malfoy complains loudly. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

You shove past Sylvan to grab a bucket, barely restraining a hip check on the way as he murmurs something about forbidden caresses and watchful moons.

Malfoy takes the offered pan from you, but sets it aside without looking; Potter's got his full attention.

“Watching you like that makes me sick,” Malfoy snaps. “The bond is making me sick.”

The nausea symptoms should have ended with the bond. Have they even bothered trying to stop touching? Maybe it's easier to pretend their obvious connection is only magic.

“You shouldn’t watch, then,” Potter says.

If Sylvan had any tact he’d leave them be, but — and you catch the glint in his smile — maybe he’s as onto them as you are.

“Like a lover’s waltz, I’ll hold you through your quaking,” he’s going on in his lilting, stupidly attractive voice.

Potter’s hand brushes against Malfoy’s knuckles, so quick you almost miss it, but Malfoy snags his wrist and puts two fingers on Potter’s pulse point.

Sylvan finishes the poem with a flourish and a bow and leaves, nodding to you as he goes. The smolder between Malfoy and Potter is three times worse, so you follow Sylvan out. It's cooler even in the doorway, like there's more oxygen, like the force of their false bond is actually consuming the air in the room.

Malfoy mutters, “I hated that.”

“I know,” says Potter. “You're not really jealous, I get it.”

“Right.” Malfoy’s voice is horribly resigned. Can’t Harry tell he’s lying? “I’m tired.”

“Roll over then, we can both fit. I'll hold you.”

“Because of the bond?”

“Because of the bond.”

Read Aftermath of an Accidental Bond on Ao3!

Past weeks: I. Let it Come to Them (Fluff) | II. By Merlin’s Hand, Save Him (Action) | III. The Pleiades Were Watching Too (Angst/MCD)

#drarry #2021 summer writin #starry writes

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

Photo

Another addition to the Peter Pan AU concept I’ve done some stuff for...this time with Wendy!Carewyn as a ten-year-old, when she first met the shadow belonging to the Boy Who Never Grew Up, Orion Amari.

It all started when back in Neverland, Orion was called out to a private meeting with a pirate solely called Jack, who deliberately kept the meeting quiet from both the Captain he served and the rest of his pirate crew. He was the youngest of Captain Hook’s crewmembers, and yet still far too much of an adult for Orion to ever take into his ranks -- but it was what the pirate requested that so intrigued the eternal 12-½-year old. It seemed that even though Neverland had done its work and made Jack forget just about all of his previous life, including his real name, there was someone outside of Neverland who Jack did still remember...and that person was someone he now implored Orion to protect.

“Her name is Wyn. Or, at least, that’s the name I have...I feel like there was more to that name, once. The rest of the crew calls her ‘Winnie’ sometimes, but I don’t think that’s fully it either. Regardless...I know Hook wants to capture her, like he did me, and I...I don’t want her here, with him. I don’t want her to become a pirate. But I don’t know where she is, except that she’s in London. And as long as I’m stuck with Hook, I...I can’t protect her. So I’m asking you to find her first. She’s younger than me -- much younger, with ginger hair -- small and sweet as a cherub. She’s brave and sharp and she sings like a bird. She’d fit right in with your sort -- no one would have any idea she has anything to do with me. Just...spirit her away, like Hook did me. Take her with you, and keep her safe here, in Neverland. She doesn’t need to know I’m here, or even why you took her, just...just keep her away from Hook. Please.”

Orion cocked his eyebrows.

“And what will you give me in return?”

The pirate called Jack looked lost for words. His hollowed-out blue eyes -- so like Captain Hook’s and skull-like, even upon such a pale, handsome face -- rippled with desperation.

“Anything,” he whispered. “Anything.”

Orion’s black eyes grew a little smaller, examining the pirate critically. He’d never heard anyone, let alone a pirate, express that amount of caring about another person before. He looked after his Lost Kids, of course, so long as they chose to not grow up -- led them on adventures and told them what to do...but not even the fairies who had first brought him to Neverland ever expressed such...well, selflessness, before. It intrigued Orion enough to decide that maybe he would look out for this “Wyn” -- maybe she could be something useful, if Hook had such interest in her. And if she were still a child, then maybe she’d make a decent Lost Kid.

Orion flew around London off-and-on for about an Earth year (which felt more like a week or so, in Neverland), keeping an eye open for this girl called Wyn. It was the ginger hair that helped, as one day a mane of ginger hair caught his eye, and he followed it home to an entire ginger-haired family -- a poor clan called the Weasleys.

The mane of ginger hair Orion had seen belonged to the eldest of the Weasley children, a twelve-year-old named Bill, who had just finished up with his job as a newsboy, making deliveries for a late-night newspaper route. After he bounced his infant sister Ginny up and down in his lap for a while to make her stop fussing, he immediately set about telling his younger brothers -- Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, and Ron -- all about his (in Orion’s opinion) perfectly boring day. Orion took stock around the room and, after seeing nothing but boys, was about ready to give up and look somewhere else when Bill asked his brothers about where someone named “Carey” was. The second-eldest brother Charlie responded with a mischievous smile.

“Just give a listen, and you'll know.”

And when everyone quieted, Orion likewise saw what Charlie meant. A voice was singing from somewhere upstairs -- a song that Orion had never heard, and yet contained a word he never would’ve ever thought he’d hear in London --

“Neverland.”

Immediately interested, Orion flew up toward the upstairs window, which had been left ajar. Somewhere in the next room, he heard the little bird-like voice singing, only being able to make out some select words.

“When there’s a smile in your heart...there’s no better time to start...”

The voice was moving down the hall. Orion felt the urge to try to sneak inside the house, but the girl’s singing being interrupted by a woman’s more maternal speaking voice made Orion falter, hiding just out of sight beside the window. It was Mrs. Weasley, Bill’s mother, telling the girl -- Carewyn -- to go ahead and leave the rest of the mending for tomorrow, since it was almost time for supper.

Carewyn, Orion realized as he heard the little girl dash away down the stairs. The pirate called Jack had said there was more to the name he remembered, once. “Wyn” had to have once been “Carewyn.”

Unfortunately for Orion, although he himself was hidden beside the window, his shadow, cast in the light of the streetlamps down onto the window ledge, was not -- and Mrs. Weasley, startled at what looked like something peeking into their window, immediately rushed over and shut it. Orion, alarmed himself at the abrupt slamming of the window, tore off into the night -- leaving his shadow trapped between the closed window and the sill.

It wasn’t until that evening, when Carewyn, Charlie, and Bill were getting ready for bed that Carewyn caught an odd squeaking sound coming from the window of the bedroom she shared with Bill and Charlie. It was, as it turned out, Orion’s shadow, which -- after Mrs. Weasley had left -- had started contorting and writhing in an attempt to escape from its place trapped under the windowpane. Upon finding the window locked for some strange reason, Carewyn enlisted Bill’s help in undoing the latch -- as soon as the shadow was free, he catapulted around the room, flying all over the walls with reckless abandon and stumbling over the shadow of everything in the room, even slapping the walls as if looking for something. Charlie and Bill both tried to catch it before the noise it made could alert their parents or younger siblings -- Charlie finally managed to snag his ankle when he jumped up high enough on his bed and yanked the shadow down with all of his strength so that Bill could grab onto him too. Carewyn, who’d refrained from trying to grab the shadow largely out of the desire not to hurt it, instead tried to reassure him.

“It’s terrified, can’t you see that?” she cried at Charlie and Bill at one point. “Why, a shadow isn’t meant to be completely alone -- and in a house full of strangers, no less!”

“It was stuck in our window, Carey,” said Charlie rather dryly. “I reckon we’re past being ‘strangers.’”

“Well, I’ve certainly never seen him before, nor the person he belongs to!” huffed Carewyn.

Despite Carewyn’s instinct to coddle him, the Shadow Without an Owner was indeed too wild to be left to its own devices. Throughout that night and into the next morning, the shadow kept darting around the room, crashing into different shadows that in turn made the objects attached to them wobble or even fall over. At one point he even knocked over and almost broke the old table lamp by the armchair. It made all three children worry that the shadow was going to get them in a lot of trouble, when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley found it -- but at the same time, all three of them weren’t sure if they wanted to share him with the two adults in the house. The shadow seemed incredibly reluctant to be seen, disappearing completely from view whenever Mr. or Mrs. Weasley popped up.

“He’s afraid of them,” said Carewyn, her voice full of empathy and concern.

Bill tried to offer the shadow a reassuring smile. “Aw, now, you really don’t have to be...Mum and Dad are great! I’m sure they’d be happy to help you, if you -- ”

But the Shadow Without an Owner stubbornly crossed his arms and settled himself down on top of the shadow of Charlie’s headboard with his legs and arms both crossed. He was not going to accept help from any grown-ups.

It was soon decided that Carewyn would look after the shadow while Bill was on his newsboy route and Charlie was at the canning factory. Since Mr. Weasley would be at work and Mrs. Weasley would be largely kept busy with two-year-old Ron and one-year-old Ginny, it was generally Percy and Carewyn’s responsibility to look after Fred and George and help Mrs. Weasley with the chores. And since Carewyn knew there was a lot of mending still to do, she decided she could take all of it upstairs and work on it in her, Charlie, and Bill’s room so that she could keep an eye on the Shadow Without an Owner.

The shadow -- who Carewyn had started just calling “Shadow,” since she didn’t know its owner’s name -- was quite restless, being stuck in one room the whole day. It kept skipping across the tiny bedroom, fluttering from the windowsill to the wall and back. It was peculiar to Carewyn that this shadow seemed to have no sense of gravity -- she had heard plenty of stories from her mother about an island where people could fly with a single thought, but she was sensible enough of a child to presume they were only stories, meant to cheer people up where they were sad.

Eventually Carewyn felt enough pity for the restlessly fidgeting Shadow that she offered to sing him a song or two, to help pass the time.

“I like to sing whenever I’m doing my chores for Mrs. Weasley,” she explained. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, but...maybe it might cheer you up, since you’re stuck inside?”

To her surprise, Shadow seemed immediately interested. He skipped over the shadows of all three of the children’s beds over to the shadow of the armchair next to her. It hovered on the wall over the chair for a moment before it flopped down onto its stomach on top of the armchair’s shadow, its focus down toward her.

Smiling despite herself, Carewyn started to sing for Shadow.

“Think of a wonderful thought -- any merry little thought... Think of Christmas -- think of snow -- Think of sleigh bells...off you go, Like reindeer in the sky... You can fly! You can fly! You can fly!”

Shadow seemed captivated. He actually crossed his translucent arms and leaned his head down on them to listen, his feet absently kicking behind him, while Carewyn sang as she sewed. When Carewyn was done with one song, she’d start another, and Shadow would listen to all of them. The ones he seemed to like best, though, were the ones her mother Lane had taught her and Jacob, so long ago. The ones about that beautiful, make-believe land that had once captivated her and Jacob’s dreams.

Carewyn put down the blanket she’d finished patching up to look up at Shadow. His hands were clasped together as he watched her. Although he had no eyes or expression, Carewyn sensed he was considering her carefully.

“You like the songs about Neverland, don’t you?” she asked him at last.

Shadow nodded.

“My mum taught them to me,” Carewyn explained. “She used to sing them for my brother Jacob and me, when we were little...and then Jacob used to sing them for me, after Mum...”

The memory of her mother sick in the hospital, and of Jacob squeezing her tight in his shaking arms in a vain attempt to shield her from her grief, made Carewyn’s heart hurt. She brushed the end of her sentence away and put on her bravest face.

“Bill and Charlie like them too,” she said pleasantly. “Percy, Fred and George too, though Percy tries to act like they’re silly, sometimes. And Fred and George are kind of like you -- they’re more the sorts to want to get into mischief than just stay quietly indoors.”

She giggled behind her hand.

“Ginny likes them too... though I reckon it’s just because she likes attention, period, at the moment -- being a baby.”

Shadow seemed a little restless again. Carewyn surmised that he was losing interest -- but, she supposed, considering he couldn’t properly talk, conversations were bound to be less engaging for him.

“Mum had this pretty lullaby she used to sing for Jacob and me,” she offered. “She said she forgot the real words a long time ago, but the melody stayed with her enough that she sang it anyway. Do you want to hear it?”

Shadow’s head popped up, interested again, and he nodded. Carewyn took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Maybe if she dreamed hard enough, she could hear her mother’s voice, singing it too...

“Once upon a time and long ago, I heard someone singing soft and low. Now, when day is done and night is near, I recall a song I used to hear -- ‘My child, my very own, Don't be afraid -- you're not alone... Sleep until the dawn, for all is well.’ Long ago, this song was sung to me... Now it's just a distant melody, Somewhere from the past I used to know, Once upon a time and long ago...”

Shadow actually seemed to settle down, leaning his head down on his folded arms again. When she was finished, he stayed still for a long time -- so long, in fact, that she thought maybe he’d fallen asleep. After several minutes, though, Carewyn realized that Shadow was actually hugging himself tighter, hiding his face under his arms.

“Shadow?” said Carewyn, concerned.

Shadow raised his head, looking right at her. Once again Carewyn got the feeling he was examining her closely. Then, hovering weightlessly down off the armchair, it settled itself down on the wall behind her beside her shadow, crossing his legs and holding his own hands.

Carewyn tilted her head, looking over the shadow with pity in her eyes.

“...You feel lonely,” she murmured, “don’t you?”

Shadow didn’t answer. His focus was down on his clasped hands.

Taking the lack of response as good enough of one, Carewyn adjusted her knees under her, smoothing out the skirt of her one nice dress, and looked up at the ceiling.

“It’s okay if you do,” she said softly. “Everybody feels lonely sometimes. And...well, I s’pose being without your person must be very sad. I’ve never been without my shadow.”

Her eyes grew a little smaller and sadder.

“But...I do know what missing someone feels like...it feels awful.”

Shadow didn’t move. Considering her own shadow on the wall and then Shadow carefully, Carewyn tentatively brought a hand out so that her shadow’s hand ended up on top of Shadow’s clasped hands in his lap.

Shadow immediately bolted up off the ground in alarm, hovering in mid-air over her. It felt like he was staring. Carewyn likewise tensed up when he quickly retreated.

“I’m sorry!” she said at once. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Shadow put his hands on his hips, almost looking faintly offended by the suggestion. He wasn’t frightened. Startled, maybe, but not frightened.

Carewyn felt herself smiling wryly despite herself. “Well, you did kind of react like a scared cat, just now!”

Shadow’s hands clasped in front of him and he leaned forward, looking down upon the smaller girl with an almost snarky posture.

Carewyn giggled behind her hand again.

“I must wonder, Shadow -- is the person you belonged to as odd as you are?”

Despite the dryness of the question, her eyes betrayed some genuine fondness as she returned to her sewing.

“Tender shepherd, tender shepherd...let me help you count your sheep...”

Somehow Carewyn managed to entertain Shadow that entire day until Bill, Charlie, and Mr. Weasley returned from work that evening. Shadow even managed to stay a bit more subdued afterwards, only knocking over one table before Bill, Charlie, and Carewyn came up to bed for the night. When Mrs. Weasley came into the room to bid them goodnight (and Shadow hid behind the armchair to avoid being seen), she once again latched the window, instructing Bill to leave it closed that night. She hadn’t told Bill about the strange shape she’d seen at the open window the previous night, for fear of frightening him, Charlie and Carewyn -- a decision with some logic behind it, though she regretted it for quite a while afterwards.

Despite Mrs. Weasley’s words, however, Carewyn immediately got up and unlocked the window anyhow.

“Shadow’s owner might come back looking for him!” said Charlie when Bill tried to argue the point.

Carewyn nodded, shooting a look at Shadow, who had settled himself on the windowsill as if waiting.

“Your mum said to keep it closed,” she said stubbornly. “She never said we had to keep it locked.”

And so Shadow waited patiently by the window as the three ginger-haired children slowly fell off to sleep. It was just after midnight that there was movement outside the window again, and the Shadow Without an Owner leapt up seeing his other half -- the Boy Without a Shadow -- on the other side of the glass. Flying beside Orion was a pink-eyed pixie with yellowish-green wings bathed in sparkling gold light.

Orion fixed his shadow with a faintly resigned expression.

“You’re in a right pickle, aren’t you, my shadow?” he murmured.

Shadow’s shoulders fell noticeably as Merula shook her finger at him, her voice a huffy tinkling of bells.

“You’d better not have let anyone see you!” she scolded.

Orion reached out and gave the window a light pull. To his relief, it was unlocked, and he pulled it the rest of the way up so he and Merula could fly inside.

Merula at once set about exploring the room, landing on a pile of folded, patched-up clothes next to a modest stack of old stuffed animals.

“What a dump,” she scoffed.

She gave a light kick to one of the teddy bear’s noses. The kick, however light, nonetheless was enough to bring the teddy bear down on her, making the fairy jingle in frustration.

Orion idly lifted the teddy bear off of her without even looking at her, instead focusing on his shadow. Illuminated once again by the streetlamps outside the Weasley home, Shadow immediately darted further back into the room, hovering just over Carewyn’s bed and pointing frenetically.

"I know,” said Orion. “That would be the ‘Wyn.’ The one who sings like a bird.”

Shadow settled himself down on top of Carewyn’s headboard, looking down at her as she slept.

Orion frowned slightly upon his shadow.

“...You like her, then?” he asked lowly.

Shadow nodded.

Merula crossed her arms huffily, looking down at the girl with active disdain. “Look at her, though! She’s got the wrinkles -- those of knowing solemn things. She’s way too old to take...”

Orion took a few steps forward and considered the sleeping ginger-haired girl in the bed.

She was indeed as small as the pirate called Jack had said -- smaller than her age would suggest, Orion thought. She already had these little wrinkles kissing the corners of her lips, and yet they were a peculiar kind of wrinkles. They weren’t wrinkles of age, per say -- instead there was something almost warm, about them...like the kind of wrinkles a well-loved teddy bear has. It didn’t make her look tired or resigned like so many adults did, but rather oddly resilient. The girl wasn’t smiling in her sleep, and yet she still slept peacefully. Her dreams no doubt weren’t as carefree as Orion would like -- but they were not the dreams of a grown-up, either. There was still some weightlessness there, especially since this family she was with wasn’t even hers. She’d still likely be able to fly...

“...She’ll do,” Orion said at last.

“What?!” said Merula, taken aback.

Orion’s voice was very lackadaisical, but his eye remained on Shadow, who seemed oddly pleased by his decision. He even brought a translucent hand down and -- very tentatively -- patted the top of the girl’s own shadow’s head. It was a gesture that made Merula look at him with bewilderment.

“What are you doing, she’s not some little puppy dog for you to coddle!” she jingled at Shadow irritably.

“Come now, my shadow,” Orion said stridently. “Must work out how to restore our balance, before we set about making our proposition to this ‘Carewyn.’”

Shadow quickly bolted up and away from the sleeping Carewyn, looking almost sheepish. Orion glanced around the room, before his eyes settled on a drawer. Striding over, he opened it and ruffled through its contents until he found a bunch of sewing supplies, including a collection of buttons.

Aha. This might do.

Unfortunately buttons were indeed not what was needed, to properly restore a shadow. Orion tried to work them out several times, to no avail, but since the poor boy knew nothing about how buttons were fixed on to begin with, he couldn’t figure out how he could “button” his shadow to him the way two sides of a shirt could. Orion and Merula also tried several other things in the drawer, like some spare ribbon -- but since he naturally couldn’t tie his shadow securely enough to himself, he was left only with a bar of soap he found by the nearby basin, which he tried to use to stick his shadow on.

After about an half-hour of failures, Orion was starting to get anxious. What if he never got his shadow back on? Would he be stuck without a shadow forever? Would he have to chase after his shadow forever, the way his shadow used to for him? Would his shadow even be able to follow him back to Neverland, if there were no lights that would maintain his form? Would he be trapped here in London forever -- in this house forever?

“Orion?” Merula tinkled uncomfortably.

Orion actually found his eyes welling up with tears, though he tried to force them back.

He didn’t know what to do -- what was he supposed to do...?

A very quiet gasp from the bed caught Orion’s attention. Stiffening like a cat, he shot to his feet, his black eyes very wide.

Sitting up in bed was the little ginger-haired girl called Carewyn. Her eyes were very wide, almond-shaped and china blue -- the same shade, Orion realized, as those of the pirates back in Neverland.

The same shade as Captain Hook’s eyes...

And yet those eyes welled up with so much compassion upon meeting Orion’s.

“Oh,” she whispered, looking from the soap in his hand to up to his face. “Oh, please...please, boy, please don’t cry.”

#peter pan au #hphm #hogwarts mystery #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #my art #au #merula snyde #bill weasley #charlie weasley #molly weasley #jacob cromwell #lane cromwell #my writing

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calpops · 4 years

Text

the decorations | c.h.

Welcome to the first installment of 12 dates with calmas! There will be one blurb every day through Christmas! Happy holidays if you celebrate and good times to you all! ♥️

You and Calum go decoration shopping in an attempt to make your daughter’s first Christmas perfect. Shoutout to @notinthesameguey for such a fun idea, everyone go give Blanca some much deserved love!

1.3k words

dates with cal masterlist

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“Cal, look,” you say and grab your husband’s attention as you pull an ornament from its hook in the aisle. Calum turns to gaze at you, your five month old daughter snuggled into his arms. Mila is half awake, her eyes barely open as her head rests against Calum’s chest. Her baby carrier is in the cart but neither of you are prone to using it, always opting to have her in your arms where it feels she’s the safest. Calum raises his eyebrows in question at the ornament in your hand and strides across the aisle as Mila yawns.

“What is it?” Calum asks as he scans the item in question with a sweeping gaze. Gold and glitter adorn the ornament and a space in the middle leaves him confused.

“It’s for a family photo,” you inform and toss it into the cart without any further question or information. Calum grins at your antics and takes a peek into the cart you’ve both been mindlessly filling all morning. Everything from garland to window clings of snowflakes to ornaments to endless strings of lights to wall hangings and wreaths are buried amongst each other in the cart. “Are we missing anything?”

“I’m pretty sure we have half the store in our cart,” Calum says around a laugh and takes a small step closer to you as he watches your nose crinkle and eyebrows furrow in thought. You bite your lip for a moment and Calum knows how far gone your thoughts are taking you—to the other half of the store yet to be bought.

“It’s our baby’s first Christmas. I want it to be perfect,” you finally say and close the slight distance between you, Calum and Mila. Your hand reaches up to stroke Mila’s cheek and your eyes soften as she gazes at you with a little smile. “Besides, we’ve never decorated the house before. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Calum simply nods, knowing how important Mila’s first Christmas is to you, also feeling the same amount of importance in his own heart. You and your daughter are everything to him. Your first Christmas as a family shines in the distance with string lights and glitter filled ornaments. Calum knows all that is in the cart are just accessories to the day, that the most important thing is being together. But the shine of happiness and awe in your eyes at Christmas decor convinces him the rest is worthwhile, even down to the napkin holders and Christmas collar for Duke.

“Should we get anything for the yard?” you ask next as you wander down another aisle with Calum and Mila following. “We could get the inflatable Santa… or is that too tacky?”

Calum huffs out a laugh at the serious contemplation on your face as your eyes scan yard ornaments and lights. “Sweetheart, we’re buying matching pajamas for you, me, Mila and Duke; I think we’re well past tacky.”

“Yeah?” you ask with a light smile and slowly reach for the jolly looking Santa to not so inconspicuously put it among all of the other decorations much to Calum’s amusement. “Stockings!” You blurt out as the looked past but very much needed staple of Christmas enters your thoughts. “We don’t have stockings yet.”

“We can fix that,” Calum promises and bounces Mila slightly as she starts to stir in his arms. “I think there’s one empty spot in there for them.”

You smirk around a giggle at Calum’s slight teasing and lead your family down a few more aisles to find a wall of stockings to choose from. Mila calms as Calum continues to soothe her and sway where you both stand in inspection of the different designs. Your hand holds one of Mila’s, your voice coos to her as she settles and you ask her opinion on any stocking that catches your eye.

“Do you like this one, lovebug?” you ask with a white knit one in hand. When Mila doesn’t respond you shake your head. “Me either.” You place it back with the others and keep searching.

“Up there,” Calum says and gestures with a nod of his head. The ones he points out are too high up for you to grab. You give him a pointed look and reach out for Mila instead of stockings. He laughs and reluctantly hands her to you; the only disagreements you get in lately over who gets to hold her. For being five months she’s still small and having her in your arms reminds you of that fact. She fits so perfectly into your hold that anytime she’s in your arms it takes your breath away for just a moment. She’s been growing, the difference between her days in the incubator to being three months and now five still strike you. But she remains tiny and precious in your hold. A rush of people pass you, your back turning to them to keep Mila from being in the fray as Calum reaches up to grab the stockings he pointed out. He brings them down to your eye level with a proud smirk and tilts his head as he awaits your approval.

You immediately smile at the stockings in his hand and bounce with Mila in your arms to make her adjustment to your hold to her liking. She lets out a small little noise as she settles and the people pass by without incident. You give the stockings another once over and watch as Calum shuffles his feet and his cheeks grow pink.

“Little bears?” you ask with fondness in your tone, the stockings fuzzy with little ears on the top and cute little faces on the upper third.

“For momma bear, papa bear and baby bear,” he explains with a little giggle that makes your chest grow with warmth. His bashful explanation makes your heart flutter and heat creep through you; the world of parenting still relatively new, the small quirks and new titles not losing their allure. Calum’s eyes grow wide for a second and he quickly turns to grab another off the wall. “And dog bear,” he quickly adds on so as to make sure the entire family is included.

“They’re perfect,” you praise and give Calum a chaste kiss on the cheek as Mila makes a small noise that you both take as approval and a plea to go home.

Once you do get home, Mila is put in her bassinet for a nap and you’re both faced with endless bags of decorations you turn to Calum.

“Are sure it’s enough?”

Calum laughs. “I think we’ll make do.”

“You think her first Christmas will be perfect?”

“Of course,” he says and pulls you to him, hands running up and down your arms to soothe you. “She’s got you. Can’t get any better than that.”

You giggle at Calum’s cheesy but heartfelt statement and settle into his arms, laying your head against his chest just like Mila does. “Now all we have to do is decorate, get presents, wrap the presents, make sure she watches all the classic Christmas movies”—Calum cuts off your rambling list by running his fingers through your hair and easing the perfectionism in you.

“What’s this really about?” Calum asks, knowing that there’s an underlying reason for seeking perfection.

You feel caught, your husband’s innate ability to see through you like stained glass never failing to catch up. You sigh and pull back so you can look him in the eyes.

“My parents never cared enough to have a good Christmas. I just want Mila to have better.”

Calum nods his understanding, eyes gone glossy and soft as he gazes at you. “I promise she will. And I promise that you will have the best Christmas too.”

With Calum’s promise and the rationale that just being with your family will make the day perfect you settle back into his arms and hold onto his words and love.

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#Calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #Calum hood fluff #dad!cal #cal!dates #Calum hood x you #chblurb #12dwc

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crystalas · 3 years

Text

It’s only a matter of time

Okay I’m on here mainly for the fanfics so here goes...hope you like angst and stuff X3 bring a cup of tea its a long one!

The story: MK and Red Son wake up trapped by Macaque who has plans for them and he isn’t going to take no for an answer.

Chapter one: the nightmare begins

Monkie Kid woke up with a grown, he felt stiff and cold, his back and neck aches horribly which wasn’t surprising as he found himself waking up on a stone floor.

Wait. Why was he sleeping on a stone floor?

That thought got his brain firing on all cylinders as he sat up quickly, which made the chains on his wrists clank and jangle. He looked down at them adding them to the list of ‘what the heck was going on?’ MK surveyed his surroundings and saw he was in a stone-grey cell with no windows, one jail door, a bucket to which he could guess the reason that was there for…

And an unconscious Red Son who was also chained to the wall.

Oh, he had soooooo many questions.

Red Son shifted with a groan and sat up rubbing his head, as he groggily took in the sparse jail cell he looked down at his chains and then he caught sight of MK.

“NOODLE BOY!!!??” he screamed. “What is the meaning of this?!”

“I was going to ask you the same thing!” MK shouted back. “Is this one of your schemes?”

“Oh yes Noodle Boy my brilliant diabolical plan was to chain myself up in a cell with you, you saw through it so perfectly!” Red Son declared slowly clapping his hands, “All my hard work has come undone by your brilliant wit and clever thinking!”

“Ok sorry you can rein back the sarcasm now!” MK growled, he got to his feet and yanked on the chains testing their strength. They didn’t seem magical or anything special, as far as he could see they were just normal chains.

“Well, whoever did capture us are morons, I can tell you that much” Red Son exclaimed as he got to his feet, MK turned to look at him.

“What makes you say that?” he asked and Red Son just stared him in the eye as his hands erupted into flames, the metal bands on his wrists glowed cherry red then white hot before melting off and hitting the floor with a sizzling thud.

“Because only a fool would try and chain me up without heat proofing my restraints first” he answered and began to walk towards the door to inspect it. MK checked his ear more out of habit and found to his surprise that his staff was right where he left it last, he pulled it out and regarded his chains for a second. He remembered how Monkey King had been able to break Spider Queen’s webs by simply tapping them with the staff so he tried that. He tapped the chains with a little force and with a ringing clang the both chains fell apart the individual links clanking to his feet. He walked over to the cell door where Red Son was kneeling looking at the lock with a keen eye.

“Hey I can try and open it if you want?” MK offered but Red Son just gave it a push and it opened without so much as a creak.

“Wait it wasn’t even locked?” he asked dumfounded.

“I stand by my statement; our kidnappers are morons…” Red Son muttered.

“Yeah, I mean they didn’t even try and take the staff” MK said as they left the cell to find themselves in a dark hallway. Red Son lit a flame in his palm and began walking, MK not wanted to be left in the spooky dark dungeon without a light source followed.

“To be fair even if they had thought to, they would have struggled to do so. What with the whole ‘only those deemed worthy thing’ unless they had MY gauntlet of course!” Red Son declared proudly.

They walk the corridors silently for a while, it unnerved the two how quiet and dark this place was even as they walk by windows there wasn’t even the glimmer of stars or moonlight. There were no city sounds or wildlife noises or anything that could help them figure out if they in an urban or rural area.

“So… um do you remember anything before waking up here?” MK asked desperate to get rid of the unsettling silence.

“I remember being in my work shop, I was tinkering with the truck when I heard my mother call me…then…” Red Son stopped walking as if to try and collect his thoughts. “Something grabbed me from behind. You?”

“I remember being on a delivery run, the address was this little run-down apartment. Then yeah something grabbed me as well when the door opened.” MK answered, the silence returned as they continued to wander. They came to a door that opened up to reveal a large dojo training floor, they looked around as they walked through keeping an eye out for any movement.

“Why do you think they kidnapped us?” MK wondered as he looked at the wooden weapons that were on a stand nearby.

“Besides the obvious? I mean you are the Monkie Kid” Red Son muttered “My guess is that someone thought they could force a marriage out of me” this got a tsk of amusement out of Red Son and a look of bemusement from MK.

“Marriage??!”

“Yes, it is demon custom to capture your intended betrothed as a way of showing your strength and cunning. A stupid tradition that should have died out over a century ago in my opinion but there are still plenty demons out there that like to cling to the old ways.” Red Son explained they left the dojo floor and carried on inspecting the other rooms as they did. There looked to a shrine room, bedrooms, maybe a kitchen but it was as sparce as their cell was. There was nothing that gave them any indication on who took them or why.

“Sounds like you’ve had your experience with that sort of thing…” MK ventured; Red Son scoffed.

“When my father the Demon Bull King was first imprisoned by you-know-who, I was next in line to be head of the family however I was too young so my mother ruled in my stead… the amount of times demons thought they could take me so they could claim the title was beyond annoying. Ever wonder why I know teleporting magic?” Red Son explained looking back at MK.

“So why don’t you use it now?”

“To put it in a way your simple mortal mind could comprehend I need to know the location of my destination and the pathway to it, I can’t just ‘whoosh’ my way out of sealed room I need a window or an air vent or something…” Red Son said as he opened another window and gave an irritated growl as it only opened to empty darkness. “And I’m not leaping into that until I know what’s out there!”

MK gripped his staff tighter and he could feel his instincts tingle, Red Son also seemed to feel something because he could see his fists clench and he began to walk faster to the door. He opened it wide and found…

“What the hell??!” MK cried out.

The entire dojo was in a cave, Red Son lifted the fire ball above his head and made it grow larger the light illuminated the cave as far as they could see which wasn’t very far to begin with. The cave was barely large enough to house the dojo they had been in, MK used his staff to pole vault up to the roof tops making sure to stay in the light, using his golden sight he looked around getting more desperate as claustrophobia began to set in.

“I don’t see any tunnels!” he called from on top of the roof tiles “I don’t see anything that looks like a way out, not even inside the dojo!”

“Then how do we get out of here?” Red Son shouted back.

“Easy, you don’t!” a voice declared and they spun around to see a dark furred monkey being standing there as if he had been there from the start.

“Macaque?!” MK spluttered.

“Uncle Mango?” Red Son squeaked at the same time, they both turned to look at each other.

“You know him?” they both asked in unison.

“It’s cute you remember that name Red” Macaque chuckled “Kinda makes me feel bad about what’s ahead…”

“What do you want this time Macaque?!” MK snarled feeling a little safer from his high vantage point, Macaque looked up at him with a smirk.

“Why to carry on with our training of course. My little student” he grinned.

“I was never your student!” MK growled getting ready for a fight but Red Son seemed to beat him to the punch as he strode up to Macaque his hair angrily aflame.

“I demand you release us from this…place!” he shouted “Where are we?”

“This is my dojo, and only I can travel to and from it unless you know shadow magic of course” he sniggered, Red Son growled and his fists began to burn with fire.

“Release us now or I will make you!” he roared.

MK felt a chill down his spine as this conversation went on, something was wrong, something was very, very wrong here. Macaque was too at ease with Red Son and MK both armed and angry at him, then it hit him like an ice block to the gut.

Only a fool would try and bind Red Son without fire proofing it first.

Only a fool would leave MK with his staff.

Only a fool would leave the cell door unlocked and let their prisoners just wander around on their own.

Macaque was a lot of things but he wasn’t a fool.

“Red Son hold on something isn’t right here!” MK said but Red Son wasn’t listening as he was already pouncing to attack, fire blasting as he leapt forward to land a hit…

MK watched in horror as gold bands on his arms, legs and around his neck began to glow and magic began to pulse over his body; Red Son dropped to the floor screaming in pain clutching his neck as he tried to claw the band off of him. Macaque step over the convulsing demon and looked up at MK who took a step back.

“Aw don’t worry bud; I didn’t leave you out” he smiled and muttered something. MK’s head was suddenly gripped in what felt like a hydraulic press, he clutched at his head in pain and his fingers found something under his bandana something made of metal and it was pressing into his skull with all the weight of an elephant. He staggered around trying to get whatever was on his head off but the pain only seems to getting worse with every passing moment. In his stumbling he lost his footing and fell to the floor with a painful thud but that was nothing compared to whatever was trying to crack his skull open. He screamed and gasped as the agony was knocking the air of out him and he just couldn’t breathe!

The pain was suddenly gone, but all MK could do was lie there shaking from the shock and taking huge gulps of air as he suddenly remembered how his lungs worked. He opened his eyes blearily and saw Macaque standing there waiting politely for the boys to regain some composure. MK grabbed his staff and used to it prop himself up.

“Here’s how things are going to go” he declared as Red Son got to his knees snarling at him with rage. “I am the master you are my students. You will obey my instructions to the letter, I say jump you say how high that kind of thing. If you try to escape, or defy me, or attack me, or basically do anything I don’t like…” Macaque trailed off as he muttered again. The agonising pain returned in a crashing wave that sent both boys to the floor.

“Well…you get the idea”

“How did you get these accused bands?” Red Son demanded.

“Did I say you can ask questions?” Macaque inquire and Red Son gave a staggered groan as the band glowed once more. “No, I didn’t. Now up you get my little students” both boys glared at him defiantly.

“Stubborn, aren’t you?” Macaque laughed “Well this just make it that more fun for me”

MK and Red Son cried out as pain rippled through them again.

“Please. Get up”

MK staggered to his feet and the pain stopped, he glanced at Red Son who was also getting to his feet.

“Good boys” Macaque said calmly and began to walk back into the dojo. “Please. Follow.”

“How dare he bark orders at me!” Red Son muttered under his breath “When my father finds out about this, he’s going to smash that sub human into a pulp!” only for him to drop to the floor again with a strained groan, MK ran to his side to help him back to his feet.

“Until we get these things off of us, we better play along, ok? We’re only hurting ourselves” MK whispered to him.

“I didn’t say you could talk” Macaque demanded looking back on the two, they flinched as they now knew what was coming and was made right as the bands once again activated, causing both of them to fall to their knees.

“Please. Follow” was all Macaque said after that. Every attempt to get away or attack or even just to talk to one another resulted in them lurching to the floor as they received punishment. Macaque would just stop and wait for them to get to their feet before barking the same order at them. They soon stopped trying anything and just followed quietly behind Macaque as they lead the back to the cell, they had started in. Inside the cell was two of Macaque’s shadow clones each holding a folded bundle of clothes.

“Please. Get dressed” Macaque exclaimed, both boys looked at him wanting to say something about what the hell was going on or how they were not getting undressed in front of each other but Macaque just smiled and tilted his head as if to say ‘wanna try it?’

MK sighed and grabbed the first bundle and Red Son with a frustrated growl did the same with the second. MK just let his clothes drop as he took them off Red Son however took great care to fold his up and put them in the corner. They found with a sickening feeling in their stomach that the clothes they had to wear looked similar to what Macaque was wearing but simplified. Red leggings with tawny yellow robes and a brown belt sash.

The shadow clones took their old clothes and held them for a second, as Macaque looked at his students in their new attire.

“Now boys I don’t think those fit your new outfits, hand them over” he demanded, MK felt his hand go to his bandana as Red Son gripped what looked like a beaded necklace with a horned pendant.

“This is my family insignia I am not taking it off!” Red Son growled but saw the look in Macaque’s eyes and flinched before looking sadly at the pendant before taking it off and handing it over. MK took his bandana off as well and threw it at the shadow clone in disgust. As they did their clothes ignited into purple and black flames and vanished into ash, Red Son gave a horrified gasp.

“That pendant was handed down through the generations of the Demon Bull Family!” he screamed “How dare you just destroy it for your little power tr…” he couldn’t even finish his rant as he fell to the floor once more gasping and writhing as magic ripple over his body.

“Red, the sooner you learn to do as I say the less time, you’re gonna spend like this” Macaque sighed as he knelt down to pet Red Son on the head. “I was commissioned specifically to train you two up, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Why?” MK blurted out but winced back as Macaque stood up to look at him sternly. He looked at MK for a moment before giving that horrible smirk again.

“Why indeed?” he said simply “Now I want you boys to get settled in, I’ll be bringing supper shortly.” And with that he and his clones left as Red Son laid there trembling as he recovered. They remained frozen in place until they heard the sound of the hallway door closing, once they heard that click MK rushed over to Red Son who was struggling to move.

“What did he mean he was ‘commissioned’ to do this?” MK asked as he helped Red Son to sit up.

“It means Noodle boy that there is someone else in on this!” he whispered, “Someone powerful or high up because they somehow got a hold on Guanyin’s binds!” he pulled down his collar to show nestled around his neck was a gold band, he also showed MK the same kind of bands on his wrists.

“They also managed to get Monkey King’s Skillet!” Red Son said sadly pointing at his head and for the first time MK actually tried to feel for the cause of his pain, as he felt the metal band dread ran through him as he remembered Monkey King telling him how torturous it was to have on and how he hated every second he wore it.

“How do we get them off?” MK whispered back trying his best not to panic.

“We don’t” Red Son said coldly “Only the one who placed it or something with stronger magic can remove them, so our first priority is to get out of here and find my parents or … ugh Monkey King they would have a good idea how to do it.”

MK started to pace the cell trying to suppress the rising urge to freak out and panic.

“So, what now? We’re trapped?” he asked.

“We need to remain calm” Red Son said quietly.

“How? We’re trapped in a dojo that in this shadow realm cave thing, Macaque has magical shock collars on us, we both have our powers but we are still helpless!” MK babbled “Oh god Pigsy is probably freaking out; he must be worried sick…they all must be worried sick…”

“Which means they will start looking, my mother is a wind master which means she can scry the winds.” Red Son said quietly, MK spun around to demand how the hell the most anger management challenged person he has ever met can be so calm in this situation when he saw that Red Son was clenching his hands so tightly his knuckles were white.

Red Son is freaking out just as badly as I am, MK thought he’s just better at hiding it.

“What…what’s scry mean?” he asked.

“It means anything the wind touches mother can see. I seriously doubt Macaque even with his shadow magic could have taken us without a breeze catching something, not to mention he took me in my own home which has security cameras in my work shop. Someone will notice and will find something that will lead them here!” Red Son stated slowly “It’s only a matter of time, we just need to stick it out. ‘Play along’ as you said.”

MK sat down next to Red Son taking deep breaths as he tried to calm himself down.

“You’re right.”

“I know…”

“What do you think he has planned for us?”

“I don’t know…Uncle Mango was never this…twisted when I was a child.” Red Son muttered, “Or maybe he was just better at hiding it. Or I never noticed…”

“Uncle Mango?”

“Oh, nothing blood related, same way Monkey King is considered my uncle it’s more of a god father thing you humans do”

The cell fell to silence as MK ran out of energy to talk and Red Son didn’t feel like answering more questions. They both just stewed in their own thoughts on their new predicament.

#red son #monkie kid #monkie kid red son

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