#almost dead and then she gives a slight break with her intimidating arms open slow walk and then she gallops at you on all fours to punch

[avian-alchemist]

((I don't think I'll ever be over how intensely brutal Agent Black's fighting style is. Konjak really didn't hold back on making the agents terrifying when they needed to be.

[gashinabts]

Ask Me Out (m)

Words: 5k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader, Idiots to lovers

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Mature

Summary: You and Taehyung get in a fight because you were allegedly cheating, the only problem is, who are you dating and who are you cheating on.

Warnings: Teasing, spitting, oral (f/receiving), fingering, DomTae, slapping, jealously sex

A/N: Just a small one shot, hope you enjoy!! This is my work no reposting this and my other works on any other platforms.

Holding the letter tight to your chest you breathe out a heavy sigh before giving the letter to Eunha. Taehyung texted her that he will meet with her across the administration building, instead here you are standing in front of her, counting the seconds of when this interaction will end. She opens the letter and you cringe at every second she reads it, you look off at a distance to see if Taehyung could be watching this scene unfold. “ What the hell is this Y/N? Where’s Taehyung?,” she crumbles the letter and there’s irritation evident on her angelic face.

The one con of being Taehyung’s friend is that you have to break up with his girlfriends since he doesn’t like confrontation, to see them yell at him or worst cry in front of them.

In middle school Taehyung told you to break up with Soojin for him on Valentine's day, that was the first time you got bitch slapped by someone at school. Taehyung went to visit you at the nurse office with a red rose. “ Where did you get that?,” you asked him as you pressed the ice pack closer to your cheek. “ I stole it from Jungkook’s valentine’s gift,” he says, as he hands you the rose and sits next to you. His hands gently take off the ice pack inspecting your pink slap mark. “ Ouch. This will be the last time I let you do this for me,” he gives you a boxy smile. Another con of being his friend, Taehyung could be quite the liar.

“ Well as it says on the letter, he wants to break up with you…” you trail off taking a centimeter back. You don’t think she’ll do anything crazy, Eunha was nice when she was with Taehyung, however break ups can change a person.

Eunha takes a step closer and takes the lid of her ice coffee and throws it on your sweatshirt. The cup is empty and the ice cold coffee makes you flinch, “ I knew you guys were sleeping behind my back. Tell him, ‘ The next time he wants to break up with someone, he should be a man and tell them in person,’” she bumps her shoulder against you hard as she walks past you. You groan at her comment and walk towards the center of the campus where the water fountain is, there are students who briefly look at your coffee stain white sweatshirt. “ Well she got you good?,” Taehyung bites his lip and you glare at him. He stands tall right next to you, with his neutral tone baggy pants and sweatshirt.  “ Hey I’m sorry I didn’t know she’ll react that way. Take my sweater,” he pulls his already oversized sweater and hands it to you.

You pull off your soaked sweater, “ That’s what you always say Tae,” then you put on his ugly dark green sweater. “ When are you ever going to have the guts to ask the girls you like out and also break up with them?” There’s also another thing he has a problem with, he needs to have someone, you, to ask the girls he likes out. It’s always awkward for you to tell them that Taehyung, the guy that you have a slight crush on, likes them.

“ Y/N, I can’t do that! Just imagine if I ask someone out and they straight out reject me. I would be traumatized for my whole life,” he takes your dirty sweater and walks with you to the apartment.

“ Nope. I can’t possibly see that. You are attractive and funny so I don’t see how you’ll be rejected,” you smell yourself and groan at the scent of ice americano. “ Look, ask me out right now,” you joke around while laughing to yourself. The short laugh becomes a gasp when Taehyung pushes you against a wall with his arm caging you in. His face is close to yours, you could almost count all the long dark eyelashes. Time feels like it slows down because the wind started to lessen along with chirping sounds from the birds.

“ Y/N. Go out with me,” he looks at you dead in the eye, his black curls slightly cover them. Without thinking much you let out a small okay and he backs up giving you space.

His face returns back to his bubbly self smiling, “ Do you want to order fried chicken and beer or pizza?,” he asked you while adjusting the straps of his backpack. The question takes you back and you pinch yourself just to see if this is a dream or an alternative universel. “ Fried chicken and beer,” you tell him, walking alongside him. There is silence between you two as he orders the food on his phone, he gives you the phone so you can review the order, you smile as he orders an extra order of spicy chicken since you are the only one that likes it. “ Looks good,” you say while handing it back.

You and Taehyung are watching a movie while eating the fried chicken peacefully until Jungkook barges in the living room from the front door, “ BAHAHA...Y/N you’re like all over everyone's snapchat. I even saw this video on my fyp on tiktok. Look it almost has one million likes,” he hands his phone while sitting down on the couch. ‘It’s the cheating for me’ you groan as you read the description. “ What the hell? Did you at least comment and tell them that I wasn’t the other woman?,” you ask Jungkook, the video plays and Eunha throws the coffee at you and your face grimaces.

“Yeah but like my comment got lost through the thousands of comments that are there,” he grabs a beer from the table, “ just live through your fifteen minutes of fame,” he chugs the beer. “ Ohh spicy chicken, my favorite,” his hands grab your chicken eating it with gusto.

You toss the phone on the couch, “ Y/N-” you ignore Taehyung’s voice as you go to your room. You take solace in your warm comforter hugging your stuffed penguin and taking a nap. The feeling of Taehyung’s warm hands wakes you up, he’s spooning you, hugging you tightly against his chest. You are used to Taehyung's skin ship at home, he typically does this when he sees a scary movie and has nightmares so he crawls into your bed or when the apartment is too cold and he doesn’t want to spend money on the heater. “ Are you okay?,” he asked carefully.

“ Yeah, I just hate how people don’t know the real story but it’s whatever I have you to make me feel better,” you sigh as you hug your penguin tighter.

He laughs and grabs the stuffed animal, “ You still have this raggedy thing?”

“ I’m not gonna throw him away. It was a present,” you take it back in your arms. Yeah, it looks beaten down but it was something special you cherished.

“ Man, I still can’t believe you dated Jungkook in high school. Doesn’t it feel weird to have that since you guys are not dating?,” he hugs you closer to him, you feel his warm breath against your neck.

“ Nah, we are still good friends even if he is kind of an asshole,” one of your hands reaches back raking your fingers against his curls. He hums deeply, “ Are you jealous of Mr. Penguin?,” you teased him with the question.

“ Kind of,” he mutters and snuggles into your hair. That wasn’t the answer you were expecting but you ignore it going back to sleep.

---

You grab an ice coffee for Taehyung and add sugar but a light tap halts you, turning you see a girl holding a phone zooming onto your face, “ Is this you?,” she asked you, eyes peering for a reaction. It was that stupid video from tiktok.

You laugh lightly, “ No, that is my twin,” you lie eaisly, you ignore her calls as you continue walking. You wait outside Taehyung’s office since he is talking to one of his students. The student adorably bows multiple times and thanks him, as she exits his room. “ She’s cute,” you comment as you enter his office with his coffee. He has his glasses on, along with his usual comfy aesthetic, there are a bunch of papers on the desk, and he looks the part as professor but clearly isn’t because he is a TA.

“ You are cute,” his large hand holds your hand giving it a quick kiss, while grabbing the coffee with his other hand and starts to gulp it. Today you were far from cute, you had no makeup, and you feel bloated because you were on your period.  “ There’s an essay due about the elements of Gothic architecture and she was having a hard time about what to write,” he moves his hand as he talks, he finally sits down on his desk.

“ That sounds fun,” you sarcastically state. Sitting down on the chair you look on his desk and there’s a picture of you and him at the Louvre, it was two years ago that you guys spontaneously took a trip to Paris.

“ Sorry you aren’t a fan of art history,” he nudges you with his leg, “ Anyways let’s go to this new hotpot restaurant,” he gets up putting his laptop away along with his papers. “ Should we invite Jungkook?,” you asked while putting your seatbelt on in Taehyung's car.

“ No. It’s Y/N and Taehyung time,” he firmly states but his sparkly teeth show as he smiles.

---

“ You guys look closer than ever, which is weird because how can you guys possibly get closer,” Jungkook comments as you wash the dishes. It’s obvious that he is talking about Taehyung. Taehyung had been more clingy with you, almost every night sleeping in your bed and taking you to random restaurants without Jungkook.

“ What do you mean? We are always like that, you are just jealous that we don’t take you out anymore and pay for you,” you finish washing the last plate, you put the gloves away to dry. Jungkook crosses his arms which cause his biceps to bulge and you throw your head back with a laugh, “ Is that supposed to intimidate me?,” you lean against the counter.

He walks closer, “ Kinda, I’ve been working out,” he flexes it more. You roll your eyes and he stands right in front of you, “ So friends just invade other people’s personal space?,” his face comes closer to you, making eye contact with you. He’s provoking you and you just want to slap his smirk off his face. Jungkook lays his head against your neck, rubbing his nose against your neck, his body is against yours. “ This kind of reminds me of our first time, we did it in my parent’s kitchen when they weren’t home,” his hands gripped your waist.

You decided to play at his game, your hands reach his nape pulling his hair, “ But then you came the minute you put it in,” you whisper against his ear. You laugh as his face flush with embarrassment, you push him against his chest so he can give you space.

“ C’mon Y/N that wasn’t nice,” he groans, he tugs his situation in his grey sweatpants to not make it obvious that he has a boner. You stop laughing when you see Taehyung standing near the entrance of the kitchen, he has a blank face and goes to the fridge. Jungkook turned around looking at Taehyung as he quietly grabbed a coke, “ Hey Hyung, have you eaten? Y/N made dinner.”

Taehyung looks at Jungkook, “ I’m good,” he doesn’t even acknowledge you, walking away from the kitchen and you hear his door shut.

It’s quiet as you eat dinner alone and it is even quieter when you go to sleep by yourself. The bed feels more bigger and you might think it’s more comfortable but it’s not since you don’t have Taehyung hugging you like a pillow. The next morning you wake up late, Taehyung usually wakes you up and cooks you burnt toast with a shitload of jam but this time he’s already gone.

After class, you get his favorite coffee drink, and go to his office, there is another cute student talking to him. You peer through the window and see how happily he exchanges words with her. You wait until their session is done and she thanks him and he waves goodbye, you walk into his office. He looks at you but quickly reverts his gaze back at his laptop screen typing mindlessly. Placing the coffee on his desk, “ She’s cute,” you comment.

“ Yeah,” he says and continues typing, your heart lurches not expecting him to agree with you. There’s so much tension you feel like you are walking on eggshells.

“ Umm...are you okay?,” you ask timidly. You aren’t sure if he heard you since a minute goes by and he looks through his paper and then again types. There is sweat coming off your hands and wipe them down against your jeans,“ Taehyung?,” you speak just a decibel louder.

He closes his laptop, packing up his papers, throwing them harpazidly in his backpack, throwing the ice coffee that he hasn’t even got a sip of into the trash. “ I’m meeting with someone,” he brushes past you trying to exit his office. You grab his wrist before he can leave, “ Tae, are you mad at me?,” is the only question you can think of.

This is the first time he looks at you, it’s the first time he has ever shown anger at you, he yanks his hand back to himself and the feeling of the subtle warmth is gone from the palms of your hand. “ I just didn’t think you were the type of girl to cheat and try to fuck their ex in the kitchen,” he says seriously.

Cheating? Who were you cheating on? “ I wasn’t- Jungkook and I-,” you try to explain yourself but he wasn’t hearing any of it. He interrupts you, “ I don’t care anymore...I don’t want to see your face,” he jabs at you with a disgusted face one last time before leaving. There’s tears coming out and you quickly wipe them but they still stream down your cheeks. This is the first time in your friendship that you had a fight with Taehyung and it looks like it will be the last time you grab the tissue of his desk blowing your nose. The picture of you and Taehyung gleefully smiling in Paris is mocking you, you grab the picture and take it with you before he can also throw it away as easily as he did with the ice coffee.

You usually don’t like going to your parent’s house but this time you accept their invitation, planning to stay with them for a week, you already submitted all the assignments for classes and you could always look at the podcast lectures. There’s not much clothes you have to pack up since you hardly buy any new clothes and you usually borrow Taehyung's infinite amount of clothes, well used to. “ I’ll see you in a week,” you hug Jungkook goodbye.

“ Make sure you get some rest,” he walks you to the car, you nod and smile at him, waving him goodbye.

This is the last time you will ever visit your family, they make you do chores and take care of your nephews and nieces. It doesn’t even feel like you got any rest, you found a box under your bed and it’s filled with pictures of you and Taehyung, some of Jungkook but mostly of Taehyung. The more you shuffle through the pictures it gets harder to hold your tears. You have the urge to call him but you are afraid that he has you blocked.

---

It feels and sounds quiet in the apartment, Taehyung thinks to himself. Jungkook isn’t even making noise either which is odd since he is loud. He hasn’t seen you in three days, he was sure that he was going to eventually bump into around the house while you cook or get out of the shower but nothing, he hasn’t even seen light peek out of your door. He hears the door opening expecting it was you but it was Jungkook. Jungkook goes straight to the kitchen taking out a pan and vegetables out of the fridge, “ You want some Kimchi fried rice?,” Jungkook asks as he cuts some kimchi.

“ No,” Taehyung shakes his head and scrolls down on his instagram.

Jungkook sighs loudly, “ Wow this is going to suck. I have to start learning how to cook better since Y/N moved out.”

Taehyung drops his phone on the ground, “ What?,” he asked while walking towards the kitchen to where Jungkook is at.

Jungkook puts oil in the pan and adds onions, “ Yeah she moved out three days ago. She looked really sad, took everything she had and left.” Taehyung doesn’t believe him and enters her room, the bed looks empty, there are no comforters or pillows, he opens your drawers and is met with nothing, there are some skincare products on the table but those can easily be left behind. However there are pictures of you and Taehyung on the dresser, and he easily spots the one that he kept in his office. He walks back out and Jungkook looks like he is almost done cooking. “ You could be a real asshole Taehyung. Y/N would never do anything with me since she already whipped for you. The things you make her do and how she always does it because your Taehyung,” Jungkook says and finally turns off the stove.

“ What are talking about?,” Taehyung asked with hesitance.

“ Ask Y/N, why does she break up with people for you despite the many times she gets hurt from it. Ask her why does she spend so much money on your dumb ice americano? Ask her why she broke up with me in high school?,” Jungkook didn’t mean for the last question to come out but he’s tired of his two best friends being idiots. “ I’m going to eat in my room,” he leaves with a plate of Kimchi fried rice.

Taehyung sits in silence in his room thinking about your last conversation with him, and how he didn’t let you explain. How he yelled at you, how he threw his coffee, and how you looked like you wanted to cry. He hugged his pillow tightly desperately wishing that it was you and maybe if he thought hard enough you would appear.

---

“ Are you sure you don’t want to stay the whole week?,” your Mom asked while she helped you put your suitcase in your car. It’s the fourth day, six in the morning, and you don’t think you can last another day with her yelling at you to stop taking naps and to go grocery shopping with her.

Getting in your small car you sigh,“ Yeah, I have to go back. I forgot to turn something in for class,” you make up a lie.

“ What? Are you serious? Why didn’t you do that before when you came here, that’s very irresponsible-” Maybe on another day you can take her lecturing but not today.

“ Okay, bye Mom. Love you!,” you close your door waving at her as you leave the driveway.

It is expected for the apartment to be quiet since it’s early in the morning, you drag the suitcase quietly hoping that you won’t wake them up. Opening the door slowly, you are shocked to see a sleeping figure in your bed, your hand let’s go of the suitcase and you yelp trying to get it but it comes down crashing loudly on the wooden floor. Taehyung's head pops up from his small blanket, looking at you with wide eyes. “ I umm- I’m sorry. I’ll leave right now,” you pathetically try to excuse yourself. Taehyung said he didn’t want to see your face anymore so you hurry to pick up your things. Your shaky hands try to grab your suitcase but you are tackled into a hug, Taehyung’s arms engulf you trying to make you part of his body.

“ You came...I was scared that you were gone forever,” he whispers. “ I’m sorry for what I said. I was an asshole and didn’t let you speak. I hurt you in many ways that I never expected. Then Jungkook said you moved out…” he trailed off you couldn’t clearly hear him since his voice muffled in your hair.

“ Taehyung, let’s sit down and talk, okay?,” you asked him and brushed some of the strands of hair out of his face. He nods and sits down beside you and your bed, “ I wasn’t going to move out, I just went to visit my parents hoping that would relax me but it didn’t so I came back early,” you smile at him. “ Okay good,” he smiles back and scoots closer to you. “ Taehyung, I need to ask you something?,” you look away nervously.

“ Ask me,” he encourages and grabs your chin to look at you.

You swallow nervously, “ Are we together? I mean were we together? Since you said I cheated on you and I was kind of confused…” you trail off playing with your fingers.

He grabs your hands gently squeezing them “ Of course we were together. I mean we still are. Remember when you told me to ask you out?,” he asked, you nodded remembering it vividly, “ Well since that day we’ve been dating.” You didn’t think that was serious but it did make sense because of all the skinship he was doing and the places he would take out to eat. He did take you to the Han river and had a picnic during the night which you found oddly romantic but you didn’t think much into it.  “ Y/N, I’m sorry,”  he asked, kissing your hands.

“ It’s okay there was a misunderstanding. Next time, let’s talk before we act out on our emotions,” you tell him softly, before pecking him on his cheek. Turning quickly away so he won’t see you blushing in the morning sun.  “ Help me set up comforters,” you get up, grabbing the comforters off the floor. He helps you set it up while complaining about how he missed you while you were gone, crying in your bed until Jungkook told him to shut up. You place Mr. Penguin on the bed and lay down hugging it.

Taehyung turns your body easily around so you're facing him, “ I actually didn’t know we were dating, I thought we were joking around,” your hand caresses his sharp jawline.

“ Idiot. I would never joke around about dating you,” he scoffs and takes the hand you were caressing him with, bringing it to his lips, kissing it softly.  His lips move to your wrist, trailing up your forearm, arising goosebumps and leaving a giggly response from you, making him smile. Taehyung scoots closer to your neck so he can leave kisses there and you hug him closer when he kisses a particular spot that makes you squirm. The kisses trail upwards to your jaw, going closer to the area you wanted. He looks at you seeking permission and you pull him to feel your lips against his. It’s soft as you expected and you sigh happily at the feeling of his warmth. He pulls aways looking at you, “ That was nice,” he says as he moves over to hover you.

“ Yeah, it was,” you pull him down for another kiss, this time it’s more needier. Lips smacking at each other can be heard along with some heavy breathing. Your hands leave his tousled hair and go under his baggy sleeping shirt, feeling his naked back. You never thought you could feel Taehyung this way, but here are lightly trailing your fingers up and down his back. His mouth leaves yours kissing your neck and leaving marks here and there, he pulls the collar of your shirt down trying to get more access but gets frustrated. Laughing at him, you pull your shirt off, laying back down so he can kiss wherever he desires. His eyes sparkle at the sight of the swell of your breast, immediately leaving open mouth kisses that make you shudder with excitement. His large hands pull the cups of bra and his mouth envelopes your nipple, sucking while his other fondles with your other breast. Your pants are being louder and you can’t take anymore of the teasing. Your hands pull his hair as he lightly bites your nipple leaving you with pleasure and pain, “ Touch me Taehyung,” moaning at the end of the sentence.

“ Baby, I am touching you,” his lips leave your abused nipple and go to the other one giving it the same treatment. It looks like he enjoys you getting impatient since he is smiling at your frustration as you try to grind against him. “ No no no, touch me somewhere else,” you tell him shyly, you are never this coy with your partners but Taehyung just screams out dominance. His eyes darken and his mouth leave your nipple along with a string of salvia, his hand wipes his spit all over your chest. He sits up pulling off his shirt, his eyebrow arched, “ Where does my baby want to be touched?,” he asked, looking down on you. Your hand trails down to the button of your jeans, slightly tugging at it, refusing to tell him in words. His index finger tugs at the belt loop, “ You want me to touch your pussy?” Blushing at his words you nod, he takes off your jeans and looks at your panties, smirking at your evident arousal. He bends down and kisses above the hem of your panties before tugging them down your legs.

“ Please Tae,” you whine as he teasingly kisses the inside of your thighs, Taehyung finally listens to your words and eats you out like his favorite dessert, his hands holding your thighs up trying to taste more of you. Crying out in pleasure, as his tongue pays special attention to your clit and his two fingers slowly inched his way into your seeping hole. Afraid that you are making too much noise, you moan into your palm, his head lifts up and you whine at the loss of his tongue. “ Who told you you can cover your pretty mouth?,” Taehyung slaps your cunt, making you moan louder.  “ Sorry,” you meekly let out but you desperately want to be punished again. He chuckles at your apology, rubbing your cunt to soothe the pain, “ Do you want me to fuck this needy pussy?”

“ Yes, I want you so bad,” you drawl at your words, hips rising and riding his long fingers. His fingers withdraw from you, quickly taking off his sweats and boxers, as you finally discard your bra. “ Spit,” he commands, his hand is below your mouth. Following his command, his large hand wraps around his impressive dick and you can’t wait for it to stretch you. Reaching to your drawer, you give him a condom and he puts it on. Taehyung slowly enters you and you feel an immediate stretch, your nails scratch his back at the slight pain. He kisses you to relax you and smile at his encouraging words. Moaning at the slow thrusting, the pain is completely gone, wanting to feel him deeper you tell him to fuck you harder. His hips move at fast pace and you can feel him in your stomach, “ You’re so fucking tight, I’m gonna have to fuck you everyday,” he moans out. “ Gonna have to fuck you everywhere too, so Jungkook can no longer flirt with you,” he thrust deeper hitting that particular spot that makes your toes curl. Nodding deliriously you meet his thrust, eyes rolling back at the euphoric feeling of Taehyung fucking you good. Moaning his name louder, as he grabs your jaw forcing you to look at him, “ I’m the only one that makes you feel this good, right?,” he asked but he already knows the answer.

“ Only you, only Taehyung,” you scream out feeling his other hand rubbing your clit. “ No one else,” you confirm once more, pulling him down for a messy kiss. Your approach is coming, clenching around him harder, “ I’m gonna cum,” you claw his back more, “ Can I please cum?,” begging him.

Rubbing your clit faster, “ Yeah, fucking cum for me, scream out my name,” he gives your clit you couple smacks. Crying out his name you come loudly with your body shaking in pleasure. Taehyung's pace falters, groaning at your tight cunt swallowing him in, holding your body closer as he orgasms. Kissing you softly Taehyung pulls out, tossing the condom in the trash bin. “ How’s my baby?,” he asked while stroking your flush cheeks.

“ Good but kinda tired,” giving him a tired smile. “ Taehyung I like you so much,” you confess, holding his warm hand against your cheek. High school you would be so proud that you finally confessed to him.

Taehyung grabs your hand and kisses it, “ I like you so much more. I liked you since high school but I was afraid to tell you and then you started dating Jungkook. So I thought I can never be your type. But then you told me to ask you out, joke or not, I thought that was finally my chance to have you be my girl,” he softly speaks but there’s an underlying insecurity in voice. Your hands pull him close to your body causing him to squeal, his head is on top of your breast listening to your heartbeat, as one of your hands comb his hair.

“ I guess we are both idiots, I liked you since high school too. But here we are now in each other's arms, better late than never right?,” you sigh. His fingers trace shapes your stomach, “ Just gotta make up for the lost time,” he agrees and his hand trails down.

“ Yes but not now because I’m tired,” you grab his hand before it can go any further. He laughs and kisses your breast tenderly.

“ I’m just glad that Mr. Penguin got to see me fuck my girl,” he snuggles more into you with heavy eyelids.

You sleepy smile at his words, “ You are so weird.”

——————————————————————————

Do not repost, translate, or alternate my work in any way, onto any platform. I do not take plagiarism lightly.

[slashedthroughtheheart]

A night with the trapper

Hey hey, I’m cross posting on here from my Ao3 account! Hoping to build up a writing blog once again after The 2018 Incident happened and I lost my other one for overwatch.

This time, I’ve delved into the slasher fandom after picking up Dead by Daylight! This is just some good nice fun with Evan, focused on his pleasure! Enjoy!

He'd been so considerate of your needs when you approached him tentatively.

He'd just returned from a trial and was in the middle of cleaning the grime off of his hands and arms when you gingerly pulled on the side of his overalls, looking up at him with those big doe eyes he loved to see.

Barely above a whisper, the words left your lips in a rush. "Would you let me touch you?"

The words themselves weren't dirty, but the look you gave through those eyelashes of yours, a flush dusting your cheeks and the slight pout of your lower lip lent a lewd meaning behind the words.

He hadn't even taken his mask off yet, but the candlelight in his workshop was just enough to give you a glimpse of the smug grin that donned his features.

Turning back to washing himself, he let you stew in your emotions for a bit before his voice filled the room. "Lemme get this right, doll. You wanna touch me...intimately?" Despite the words being a question, it sounded more like a pleasantly cocky statement. The low hum of his voice made you shiver, his knowing and almost teasing tone had the blush spreading further on your face.

The slight turn of his head was what prompted a meek but determined nod. You'd wanted this for a long time, and even if it was embarrassing having to ask like this, you knew you wouldn't get a chance to act it out unless you did.

Any time you'd been with him, it was always him on top of you, all around you, baring down on you like he was a hunter and you were the prey he'd caught.

And while you'd been enjoying that, you couldn't deny you wanted more. Something different.

You'd been so scared of everything at first, the pain from being hooked and sacrificed in trials was maddening. You barely talked to the other survivors for the first week, completely thrown through a loop and reeling from the shift in your new normal.

They'd tried to reach out, to be comforting and welcoming, but you had resisted. The fear gripping your heart at all times very real and palpable.

What if the killers came to find you after the trial too? What if the time you weren't being forced to fix gens and run for your life were also plagued by the terrifying monsters that hunted you in the trials?

No soothing from any of the other survivors helped. They feared you'd break before too long had passed, having seen it before in the ones that stopped appearing after they broke fully.

It was the leader, Dwight, who had tried one last ditch effort.

While the killers didn't hang around with any survivors often, it wasn't unheard of for companionable time to be spent together outside of the trials. Some were easier to approach than others, like Bubba. He didn't do much talking, but he was always happy to see anyone and would listen to people talk for as long as they wanted.

So Dwight had gone to their leaders domain, skittishly asking if one of the killers could show the newbie some kindness outside of the trials so they'd stop spiraling out. So she wouldn't be taken like some of the others had been.

Evan had stoically listened as the survivors leader talked about that new girl who'd been so very afraid during every trial he'd seen her in. She'd fueled all the killers instincts very well, looking so picture perfect with the fear readable in her eyes. Such big eyes that always had tears just threatening to fall, or falling already.

It had probably led to a bit more brutality than usual.

He remembered you, shaking like a leaf looking like you were about to wet yourself. Your hand over your heart as you stood like a deer in the headlights when he caught sight of you.

Then you turned tail and ran, your panting had excited him. It had been a while since they'd gotten someone new to chase.

You'd managed to outfox him that trial though, your fear keeping you from most of the generators so he never caught sight of you a second time after he lost you when someone blinded him with a flashlight. The other survivors worked double time to make up for the teammate they lacked, and since he'd been so fixated on finding you again, he'd mostly left them alone unless they got just a bit too close.

He hadn't managed to hook anyone that match, having been too focused on finding that doe-eyed survivor again and hearing them scream.

So he fully understood that maybe the welcoming had been rather hard for you. "What's 'er name?"

The skittish leader seemed to let out a breath he'd been holding in, worried that the Trapper wouldn't entertain the idea of trying to calm the newbie down.

"Y/n. She's real spooked, by everything." The almost derisive laugh that came from Evan at that moment startled Dwight.

"If you're saying that, she must really be a fraidy cat then." The grin on his face was visible through the opening of his masks own garish smile.

Dwight had the smarts to not say anything more to that, but his head dipped down as his ears tinged pink with embarrassment.

"So... will you have someone come out and say hi to her? Let her know we aren't ever hurt outside of trials? She won't listen to us about it." He was rubbing at the back of his neck now, willing the blush he could feel under his fingers to go away.

Evan's arms crossed, seemingly contemplating his response before he gave a single nod. "'spose we can't have the little thing losing it. Sure, I'll come say hi to her. Might be best it's from me anyways, never have managed to catch her in trials. She's never even stepped in my traps either."

He had already started moving to leave his home, lumbering through the trees with Dwight having to jog to keep up with his pace.

"R-really? You've never caught her?" the tone was awed disbelief. He knew how many trials they all went through each day, she'd had to have faced the Trapper at least 4 or 5 times by now, and to have never even stepped in a trap was quite the feat.

A grunt preceded a small hum. "M'nope. She's a small one, slips right through everything. Not particularly fast, but she's real sneaky. You haven't noticed that?"

The rest of the walk from his realm and to the camp was filled with little questions from both of them about the girl. How many times had the Trapper caught sight of her in a trial? How did she spend her time around the fire? Did they know anything other than her name?

Upon arriving, Evan wasn't surprised that she nearly bolted upon seeing him, but Claudette and Feng had each been by her side and gently held her in place.

"He's not here to hurt us. They never are when they come here. We're safe outside the trials." Claudette's hushed voice reached his ears, and he gave a slow nod.

He stopped a good distance from them, knowing his sheer size would be intimidating on it's own, but him being one of the killers made it that much scarier for the poor girl.

"Hey there, little fox. I ain't here to hurtcha, promise. I heard from our good buddy Dwight here you were having a hard time adjusting to life in the entity's realm." He kept his arms down, trying to appear as non-threatening as a metal-bedecked behemoth like him could.

While he enjoyed the chase in trials, he understood that outside of trials it was a grave mistake to hurt the survivors. Every killer learned that the hard way through punishment, and the survivor or survivors hurt would be given a reprieve for a day or two from doing trials.

His gaze swept over the group, taking in their little camp they'd eked out in the forest.

"Y'all mind if I...?" he made a gesture towards the fire and one of the logs that had been dragged near it.

It was Ace who spoke up next. "Go for it, big guy." He was the one sitting on the other end after all.

He nodded to him, wandering over slowly to take a seat and lean forward, resting his arms against his knees. "It really ain't that bad outside the trials. Y'all stay around here until you're called next, and we stay in our realms until called." He wondered if anyone had bothered explaining that to her, as she sat there still held to her seat by the girls on either side.

The fear had lessened a little in her face, but not much. She didn't look like she'd fight to get up and run anymore at least.

"Does that make sense, little fox?" his head tilted ever so slightly as he looked at her from across the fire.

She looked unsure, fear still gripping her limbs, before a very slight nod that he would have missed if he blinked.

He sat back up a bit, no leaning as far forward. "Good. We all want to work so as to not displease the entity. And hurting y'all outside of the trial displeases the entity. So it's in our best interests too that we leave you unharmed."

This bit of information seemed to be the thing that had her relax the most, the white knuckle grip of her hands lessening as she blinked owlishly at him.

If he hadn't been listening intently and looking right at her, he might've missed her whispered "Really?"

He chuckled, leaning to one side, resting his weight on his good arm. "'course. The entity is all about rules. Do this, don't do that. And one of those rules is no harm outside of trials. You think being sacrificed to it hurts? Punishment for disobeying is much worse." He kept his tone light, easy going.

At the mention of punishment, he saw her shoulders tense again. "Now don't go worrying that pretty little head a yours. Only people who've ever been punished is us killers. Y'all can't really do anything to displease the entity, considerin' your position." Another light laugh left him as he settled in to chat the night away.

Over the course of the night, she'd slowly warmed up to those around her, and to the big man who eventually introduced himself as Evan to the group. It had been when Dwight had referred to him as the Trapper, and he waved a hand. "That ain't my name, at least not outta the trials. 'm Evan, nice to meetcha little fox." He'd smirked a bit, that long dormant charm from his past life peeking through.

After that night spent around the fire, more of the survivors sought out forging friendships with some of the killers outside of the trials. If they had to mutually please the entity, then maybe they could find some understanding with one another.

So that's how simply trying to assuage one new survivors fears led to basically all of the killers and survivors having a much more easy going time outside of the trials.

It had been quite some time since then, and that initial bond between Evan and you had been the strongest. While you had sought out others, namely Sally and Bubba since they were genuinely really sweet outside of the trials, you stuck by Evan the most.

And as time went on, feelings blossomed. You'd taken a shine to him and his slightly dated charm. He liked to use names he knew would fluster you, calling you doll and sweet cheeks and the one time he'd said sweetheart had truly been your undoing.

The silence after he'd said it had made him worry maybe he had taken his teasing too far, and that you'd turn away from him.

Imagine his surprise when the next thing out of your mouth was "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

He'd been stunned silent by it, causing you to go through your own mortification, your hands coming up to wave in front of you quickly, trying to literally brush away the question you'd ask while verbally stumbling over yourself "I-I-I...nevermind!!" the squeaky tone your voice had taken on pulled a hearty chuckle from him.

He rested his hand on your shoulder, dwarfing you in size and reminding you just how much bigger and stronger than you he was. He leaned down just a bit, looking right into your eyes, seeing just how flustered you'd gotten by the hue of your face.

"I think you're damn beautiful, y/n." He was hoping he'd read your body language right, and that that question had been because you were as interested in him as he had been with you.

The little face you'd made after that, your lips forming the tiniest 'oh' as he loomed over you. He read no fear in your posture, but even while closely observing you, he'd never thought that the timid little fox of a survivor would ever have the gumption to lean into him, resting their hand so gently against his chest while they gazed up at him.

That had been the turning point in their relationship, and he had barely been able to keep his hands off ever since.

Something in your face now reminded him of that first time. Reminded him that you really did want him.

He let the rag he'd been wiping himself off with drop into the basin, turning to face you fully.

"Mmmm, well little fox, what'd you have in mind then?" his grin had turned almost wicked as his now clean hands reached forward to graze the bare skin on your arms.

The little breath you'd been holding didn't go unnoticed by him. You must've been waiting a while to ask him, working up your courage.

Instead of speaking, you pulled on his hand you'd taken with yours, leading him towards his bed.

Amusement flooded him, enjoying the sight of you turning to pull at his overalls with a pleading look at him. "Take these off, please." Even when you were in charge, you were so adorable to him. The politeness of your request had him huffing out a soft laugh while he undid the clasps, letting it fall to the floor and kicked it off and away.

"How d'you want me, doll?" The lascivious smile had your skin heating up once again, but a pleasant thrum was going through your body now. Excitement that he was going along with what you wanted.

"S-sit on the edge of the bed. No, not like that, further out. Yea, now just.. hold on." You had him sit on the bed, and had him readjust until just his backside was on the bed and his legs spread just enough to help him keep balance and for you to fit between them while standing.

He was gazing at your face, hand coming up to remove his mask while he watched you shuffle around, disrobing quickly and then kneeling between his legs, hands gingerly resting on his knees.

A single brow quirked up. "This is what you've been wanting all this time, little fox?" He couldn't deny the sight of you licking your lips for a moment before leaning forward to place yourself fully between his legs didn't do something for him, but he was a bit surprised that this is what you'd been wanting.

You gave such a cute little nod, determination on your face. You didn't want to be denied this now that you were so close to getting what you wanted.

He hummed out, hand finding itself on the side of your face, cradling your whole head tenderly. "Well, I ain't gonna stop you, but just hold on a moment." He leaned back, reaching for something behind him before leaning forward again with one of the pillows in his hands. "Here, get up just a moment and use this. The floor ain't exactly soft. Don't want ya hurting yourself sweetheart."

You melted at his thoughtfulness and the use of one of the more tender pet names he liked to call you.

Obediently you stood so he could put the pillow down to cushion your knees, hands held together in front of you while you waited for him to lean back up again.

Once he was satisfied with it's placement, he sat up, spreading his knees wide enough for you to slip between them comfortably.

He enjoyed the sight of you gracefully kneeling so close, your hands on either thigh, looking up at him with adoration and anticipation. It wasn't something he ever thought he'd get to see.

"Look at you, little fox. You look ready to downright devour me." The lazy grin that followed had your own slight smirk appearing.

A giddy bit of delight lit you up when you noticed him hungrily staring while you licked your lips once more, hands sliding up his thigh to brush against his half hard member laying against his stomach.

The texture had you marveling at the silky smooth feel as you barely caressed it with your fingertips, a reverent look on your face as you now devoted all your attention to the rapidly hardening cock just in front of your face.

He gave a very low murmur of praise, barely breathing out a low rumble of "That feels nice, doll." as he fought the urge to let his head hang back. He wanted to watch you, see just what you had planned for him, how far you would go.

He stared, eyes fixated on your lips as you leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss at the underside of the tip, staying still for a moment, eyes closed in what appeared to be pure bliss to him. You caught him off guard when you slipped your tongue out to give a little kitten lick to the tip, sliding up to his slit and getting the barest hint of a taste of salt mixed with his musk.

The groan that slipped from him at that as his eyes clenched shut for half a moment before opening again and searching your face for any idea at what you were going to do next.

He was half worried you were just going to drag out this torturously slow pace since you had barely gripped him enough to bring the tip closer to your mouth.

His half-lidded gaze met your own as you planted another kiss directly to his head this time, a shuddering breath when you stuck your tongue out to lick a slow stripe from tip down the side to his base, leaving a small trail of wetness behind.

At least he didn't have to worry about teasing it seemed.

When you nuzzled against his balls his breath hitched, hands tightening in the blanket underneath him.

He was too enthralled to speak at this point, waiting for whatever you wanted to give him.

You gave each testicle their own little kiss, all while making hungry eye contact with him, hand slowly, languidly pumping his now pulsing member.

He gripped tighter when you licked a stripe back up to the tip, flicking it at the end and enjoying the rumbling almost growl that left him.

He lost the battle with keeping his head up and eyes open when you finally slipped the head of his cock past those perfect lips of yours, tongue swirling slowly around, getting it nice and wet before slowly pushing your head down, never breaking what would be eye contact once he pulled his head back up and opened his eyes.

He drew in a sharp breath as he felt you sinking him into your mouth, head almost spinning from the sensation after you had so expertly teased him before.

He snapped his eyes back open when he felt you keep going, taking more than half of his length already and showing no signs of stopping.

He leaned back up a bit, finally seeing the heated look you had on your face, your mouth almost painfully stretched on his girth.

You rewarded his gaze with a low moan, the vibrations making him almost lose his cool and buck his hips, but he just barely held back, the strain showing in every muscle of his suddenly flexing to keep him in place.

His left hand left the crumpled blanket, finding its way to the side of your face and gently pushing a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. He ghosted his hand over the side of your head, almost petting you as he watched you keep taking him in, inch by inch.

He almost closed his eyes again when he felt your throat flex momentarily as you swallowed around more than two thirds of his length. He just barely managed to keep watching, completely at your mercy and you pushed yourself those last few bits to nestle your nose against the short bush of pubic hair he had.

A low, throaty "Fuck, you're so good baby." left his mouth, hand now making full contact with the side of your face and partly into your hair, just holding your face, not pushing you down.

His whole body was trembling just a bit, the effort he was exerting so he didn't buck his hips and potentially hurt you was enormous. The choked sound that left him when you swallowed around his whole length this time was plenty reward for you, well worth the burning in your lungs and threaten of tears pricking at your eyes.

You slowly pulled back until just his tip was in your mouth, hand coming back up from where it had moved to his thigh to steady yourself, wrapping around the base and slowly pumping up to the tip and back down to the base.

The room filled with the sound of you working him with your mouth and hands, tongue always rolling up to work the underside of his cock, leaving him to let out low groans every once in a while while you felt him twitch in your mouth and hands.

He was enjoying the attention, basking in you touch and how focused you seemed on his pleasure.

During a particularly quick press of your mouth down his length, he lost a bit of control and pressed your head into his crotch, feeling your throat tighten instinctively around him had him grunting and hips flexing as he gave the shallowest of thrusts.

He had barely gritted out a "Sorry, sweetheart" before he registered the absolutely lewd moan you'd let out at his actions, mouth still full of his length.

He didn't know what he'd done to deserve you, but he was thanking every star he had, lucky or not.

A breathless "Y'like that, doll?" left him, sounding more confused than anything else.

He watched closely as you pulled up and off him, a bit breathless yourself as you nodded eagerly and almost whimpered out a "Yes, daddy."

He hadn't ever heard you call him that before, but the look you had on your face and the way you had sounded did wonders in spurring him on.

A lazy grin split his face, head tilting ever so slightly as his grip became very present on your head, guiding you back to the tip as he coaxed you to take him back into your mouth.

"Mmmmm, yea. Just like that little fox. Take it all in again, do it for daddy." It rolled off his tongue easier than he expected it to, feeling at home in the situation.

And the high pitched moan as you pressed your face right up against his pelvis with his entire length inside your mouth was definitely a worthwhile bonus.

He watched as you almost went cross-eyed with pleasure, feeling your tongue do what little it could while he was fully seated inside.

He tugged gently at your hair, bringing you back up for a breath before pushing your head back down, gently guiding you to fuck your mouth on his length.

Honestly, he couldn't believe that this was something you were getting off to, but he was happy to oblige you. Watching his thick cock pump in and out of your swollen lips while you looked like you were in heaven was quite the sight.

You hadn't even gagged once, or caught him with your teeth. It's almost like you'd been carefully practicing taking something as thick as he was, but he'd never caught you doing anything naughty on your own. You'd always come to him when you were feeling needy, and he'd happily pinned you under him, giving you the pounding of a lifetime every time.

Maybe this slower pace was what had you so over the moon. He'd have to try that out later, pay more attention to what had you crying out for him. After all, it was the least he could do after everything that was going on right now.

Even though it hadn't been very long since you'd started, barely 10 minutes, he was nearing his climax. There was just something about the plush heat of your mouth and the noises you were making and the sheer intimacy you two were sharing that was already pushing him to the edge.

"God, baby. Just like that. Mmmm, yea, you feel so good on daddy's cock. You're such a good girl, y'know that?" His heated gaze watched as you almost unraveled on his cock from his praise, delighting in the whines that left you as you desperately pressed more and more of him into your mouth, taking control of the pace once more, quickening it in your own excitement.

Another low groan left him, his legs flexing hard as he felt the last of his self restraint slip away, seeing stars behind his eyes as they squeezed shut, a growled out "Fuck yea, baby girl, just like that, right... right there, oh FUCK" as the first jerk of his cock and rope of cum filled your mouth and had you whimpering and greedily hollowing your cheeks around his tip, milking him for all he had.

He let out a prolonged moan as you kept sucking softly through his whole orgasm. His hips bucked once, twice, then he was pulled at your hair just slightly to get you to pop off his sensitive head, his breathing jagged as he barely managed to keep his eyes on you to savor the sight of you pulling off of him, face flushed from a mix of lack of air and desire, with his seed still staining your tongue before you closed your mouth for a moment, and he saw your throat move with the swallow.

"Fuck that's hot, y/n." His hand came down to cradle your face in his palm once more, thumb swiping over your cheek once before he leaned forward and down to press a soft kiss against the crown of your head.

When he pulled back to look at you, there was fondness in all his features, a genuine smile on his face for once. "I think I oughta return the favor, since you were such a good girl for daddy." And with that, his smile had turned devious, his hands moving from your face to under your arms and lifting you into his lap, pressing a hungry kiss against your mouth before trailing to your jaw as he laid back with you straddling his hips.

The cheeky grin you were met with when he lifted you easily, dragging you up his torso until you were sitting on his chest.

"Mmm... you know, you left a nice little wet trail all along me, babydoll. Did doing that to me get you that excited?"

You were too turned on to truly feel embarrassed by his words, merely rubbing yourself against the broad expanse of his chest, letting out a loud mewl at finally getting some friction on your sensitive clit after being left for so long without attention.

He let out his own moan at the feeling of your slick leaving a smear across his pecs, excited at just how wet you had gotten from servicing him.

"Well, looks like someone's having a good time." The mirth in his voice was lost on you as you moaned from the vibrations they sent out.

"You poor thing, here. Let daddy take care of you, little fox. I know just what you need." he shifted you one last time, his brute strength sending the butterflies alight in your stomach and he move your thigh to either side of his shoulders, sitting you right on his mouth as that devilishly sharp tongue went to work right away at your most intimate parts.

Now that he knew this was something the both of you liked, he'd be taking advantage of this information any chance he got. After all, you really were such a good girl for your daddy, you deserved to be rewarded~.

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

Day Two: A Gentle Heart For a Noble Soul [Orion x Sabina]

I’m slow with writing all of my entries for @ockissweek but eventually, I’ll get to them all, even if takes me weeks. XD 

In Day 2, this story features Sabina Peg’asi, one of my Andromeda Six traveler and Orion, @julikidmxns's Dead Space OC. There’s a little bit of crossover going on but I believe I made it work. Hopefully, I portrayed your boy right, @julikidmxns! :)

Summary: He signed up to be a princess’s bodyguard to take a break from all the horrors he’d seen in space. Compared to his previous line of work, guarding royalty was small potatoes. And yet, Sabina Peg’asi was definitely not the type of royal he was expecting but now, he’d protect her to the ends of the galaxy and back. Day 2 of OC Kiss Week 2021. Prompt: Courtship. [Orion x Sabina]

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

“When I love

I become liquid light.”

― Nizar Qabbani

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

He never expected his next bodyguard gig would wind him up a royal palace, almost a galaxy away from his own home, but at least the job was straightforwardly easy enough and the pay was absurdly lucrative. As long as he kept his new charge safe, he would be set for life.

His new charge was a princess, a far jump from all the wealthy business people who hired him for clout and to look intimidating to all their enemies and allies. This princess was dressed in a long, slender beige and silver gown decorated with such elaborate geometric designs and needlework that Orion wondered how long it took the dressmaker to produce such an intricate (and expensive) article of clothing--if the young royal’s wardrobe was indeed handmade. Next to her, he felt severely undressed. 

Resisting the urge to check his clothing for any pressed lines or wrinkles, he opted for staring ahead like a typical stoic guard and repeated the name of his charge in his head while he wanted for the princess’s mother to arrive. She was the one who contacted him about her request--albeit technically, one of her secretaries called him on the Stellar Queen’s behalf. This would be the first time he spoke to the queen, assuming she would make an appearance. 

Princess Sabina Peg’asi, youngest child of King Fenris and Ta’jean, the Stellar Queen. Hopefully, you won’t be too much trouble. 

Bright pink eyes stared up at him with uncertainty and Orion shifted a little in place, keeping his back ramrod straight and his expression completely neutral. Standing in such an opulent room with a young royal scrutinizing him in only a quiet, curious manner was an alarmingly drastic change to his previous stints as a mercenary, especially with some of the weird, inconceivable shit he’d seen in his line of worth and some of that included the dead coming back to life as beings even more monstrous and voidless. At least there wouldn’t be any Necromorphs lurking in the hundreds of crystal chandeliers or underneath the vivid, elaborately woven and designed rugs that probably cost more than a year’s worth of his salary. He quickly glanced down to make sure his boots were polished and clean along with no traces of scuff marks or muddy footprints on the plush carpet. 

As he rose his head to face his new charge, the young princess quickly curtsied, her long navy blue braids dipping down with her while the perfectly round twin buns on either side of her head never wobbled or wavered during the slight movements. Her buttery yellow skin glowed briefly, a testament to her half-Tiljanni heritage. Her behavior confirmed Orion’s suspicion that there indeed was someone important behind him because no princess would curtsy to a bodyguard in greeting. 

“Hello, Mother,” the half-Tiljanni princess greeted, only resuming her full stance after her mother boredly bid her to rise with a wave of her hand. His charge stared hopefully at her mother, a small smile gracing her slightly round and youthful features. “I’m so overjoyed to see you today!”

The Stellar Queen barely paid Princess Sabina a glance as she settled her cold, crossed gaze on Orion and crossed her arms. Several of her own guards, as well as a close confidant, and secretary, were right behind her. Silence permeated the area and just when Orion was about to introduce him and list off some of the credentials, the Tiljanni queen nodded stiffly at him and snapped her head back at her secretary, a human who appeared at least twenty years older than him.

“He’ll do. Set him up in a room near Sabina’s quarters so he can reach and protect her at a moment’s notice.”

Both of Orion’s eyebrows rose up but he uttered nothing. That was the fastest job interview he ever had his entire life. Either Queen Ta’jean read his list of qualifications and experiences or someone else did and told her about them because her mind was already made up. Besides, he had a feeling how peeved she would be if he decided to tell the Stellar Queen he had a change of heart and would not be accepting the royal family’s offer to guard one of their precious children. 

Ta’jean’s secretary nodded, bowing his head. “It will be done, Your Majesty. I’ve already discussed the terms of payment to the mercenary and he is more than satisfied with the salary we assigned to the position.”

“You daughter will be in safe hands,” Orion spoke up, disliking how they were talking around him as if he wasn’t standing right there. “There is nothing I can’t handle.”

The queen shot him a bored look before adjusting the long sleeves of her dress. “I hope you’re right. Someone needs to keep Sabina on a tighter leash since she has a penchant for wandering off and letting her curiosity get the better of her.”

The said princess glided to her mother with such poise and grace Orion nearly mistook her a fairy. “That was one time, Mother, and I was horribly lost! Plus, I hadn’t seen you in weeks and I wanted to visit you.” She bit her lip at the last admission, her hands gripping the skirt of her finely wrought gown and twisting the fabric as she stared at her mother tearfully. “Last time you cancelled our private dinner. Do you think we can have some time together tomorrow?”

The Stellar Queen unleashed a heavy, burdensome sigh as she gifted her daughter an exasperated expression. “You know how busy I am lately, Sabina. Tomorrow most certainly will not work but…” She sighed again, as if she was a long suffering martyr. “But we can try at the end of this week.”

A wide, elated beam immediately stretched itself across Sabina’s soft features and her pale yellow skin seemed to illuminate from her recent joy. “Thank you so much, Mother! I can hardly wait! We have so much to catch up on!” She embraced her unwilling mother tightly, the hope in her pink eyes painfully evident. Orion’s gut twisted as he observed this uneven display of affection, of a young daughter so desperate for her mother’s attention and time that she was merrily settling for scraps of it. In the back of his mind, he wondered who he really should be protecting Sabina from: foes against the Crown or Sabina’s own family.   

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

Orion, her new bodyguard, was definitely easier to get along with than she first anticipated. 

Besides her oldest sister Nerissa, the Crown Princess of Goldis, her only other friends were Maristela, her half-sister who was a year older than her, and Vex, a palace guard assigned to the protection of both her and Maristela but now was focused more Maristela’s safety now Orion was hired to be her personal bodyguard. It was weird having someone new follow her around, making sure she wasn’t alone with strangers, palace staff members, or even relatives (a Peg’asi could never be too careful Sabina once heard). She was so used to just having Vex be at her and Maristela’s side for so long that she forgot Vex was still essentially a palace guard instead of being her first true companion that wasn’t a blood relative. 

But Orion was surprisingly easy to get along with, once she got him to open up. She could still recall his confused face when she gave him a tour of the palace, asking him he was faring in his new role, and later, inviting him to a card game with her, Maristela, and Vex. Even after her assurances he didn’t have to come if he had no desire to so, he still showed up and awkwardly sat next to her, somehow winning half of their games thanks to his mastery of emotions. Sabina observed at him through every game, vainly trying to search for a hidden tell or a crack in his distinguished, staid visage. Even his striking grey eyes revealed nothing but there was a warmth in his eyes when he congratulated on her first win. Later, Maristela teased her on how much she had been staring at her new bodyguard, her grin widening at Sabina’s flushed cheeks and vehement protests. And when she tried to explain her reasoning, Maristela simply smirked some more and bantered that she didn’t expect her to be interested in men with streaks of silver in their hair. In an uncharacteristic bout of frustration, Sabina hurtled one of her pillows at her older sister but Maristela merely dodged and kept laughing, even as another pillow hit her arm.  

Despite her sister’s teasing, Sabina didn’t distance herself from Orion. Even though having a bodyguard reduced her already dwindling amount of privacy, Orion was her friend now and found ways to give her some semblance of freedom. She was always grateful for his kindness. 

With a bounce in her step, she rapt on Orion’s door, hugging the books close to her chest as she swayed back and forth in anticipation for his arrival. She truly hoped he was free and in the mood to go outside. She relished spending time with him, even if he didn’t reveal a lot of details about himself. 

The door cracked open and Orion’s head appeared, followed by two muscular arms as he opened the door wider once he saw Sabina was alone. Sabina’s rosy eyes roamed how some of his dark hair was parted to the side in soft waves, his full, finely groomed groom and mustache sprinkled with strands of white and grey. For a second, all words failed her and Sabina drew blank on what to say.

He peered at her curiously. “Your Highness? Is everything all right?” The hint of concern in his tone yanked her back from her trance and Sabina smiled reassuringly at him. Next time, she’ll compose herself better around him and not randomly get lost into gazing at his handsome face and kind eyes---

Focus, Sabina! 

Fixing her stare at his forehead instead of his eyes, Sabina managed to finally form some words without being hopefully distracted. “Everything is just fine, Orion! And remember, you can call me Sabina when we’re out of the public eye.”

He ran a hand through his hair--it looked a little bit damp, Sabina noticed. Did he shower recently? “I’ll try to remember that, Your--Sabina. Did you need something?”

Remembering the real reason why she initially knocked on his door, the half-Tiljanni princess stood briefly on her toes as she bounced a little, unable to contain her good cheer. “Since the weather is proving to be quite pleasant and promising, I wanted to stroll along the gardens and find a nice place to read my books.” She glanced down, a sudden shyness creeping into her while her cheeks heated up. “And, well, I was wondering if I could give you a tour around the gardens. You mentioned you never witness gardens so enormous and well groomed before so I thought this would be a perfect opportunity to rectify that. The flowers have bloomed perfectly!”

His mouth twitched into a small smile, the warmth in his eyes remaining. “If that is what you wish, Your High--I mean, Sabina, then let me gear up and I will escort you to the palace gardens.” 

Still bouncing on her feet, Sabina beamed brightly at her minor victory. “Wonderful! I’ll be waiting in my room when you’re done. And no need to rush on my account, Orion. I have my books to keep my company until you’re ready to resume your post.” 

He bowed his head at her respectfully. “Of course, Sabina.” 

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

Reading in the gardens with no one but Orion standing by worked in her favor much more than she expected it too. Besides the entrance of the royal gardens, her and Orion hadn’t run into anyone from the palace, particular her siblings. The unexpected privacy pleased her, for she didn’t have to worry about anyone popping out of nowhere and rebuke her for the way she was oh so casually leaning up against Orion as she read her beginner’s medical text and snuck glances at her bodyguard to see how he was faring. He was still hard to read, something Sabina wished she could do better. Her mother wouldn’t often criticize her for how open she was with her emotions, always wearing her heart on her sleeves and trying to make friends when she should be distancing herself from everyone and analyze what they want from her. 

Unbidden tears swam near the brim of her eyelids and furiously, she rubbed her eyes, forcing herself to focus on the words on the page before her and banish the last conversation she had with her mother over dinner. One that ended far too soon for her liking. 

“The sooner you harden that fragile, weak heart of yours, Sabina, the better. Or else this world will chew you up and spit you back up and you won’t be able to recover from it. And I won’t be around to tell you ‘I told you so’.” 

Inhaling deeply, Sabina fiercely flipped the text page, trying to ignore how blurry the text was starting to look as her treacherous eyes became watery once more. Her mother was wrong, she wasn’t weak! ...Was she?

“Next time we talk, Sabina, I hope to see evidence that you took my advice to heart.”

Her concentration evaporated, Sabina dejectedly closed the book and aimlessly stared at a rose bush across from her, drawn to all the various colors in each flower while blinking back the unshed tears. Today was a perfectly good day for her and Orion and she would not ruin the peaceful mood by crying! 

Beside her, Orion shifted. Out of the corner of her eye, Sabina saw his body was pointed squarely at her. Keeping her head down, she tried dabbing her eyes and ended up sniffing a little in the process. She didn’t need to look up to see his alarmed reaction, his concern for her was practically rolling in waves. 

“Sabina...what’s wrong? I thought you’d be excited to be outside, in the gardens.”

“It’s not that,” she choked out, thoroughly humiliated when a hiccup or two escaped her in the middle of her explanation. “Everything here is perfect. The weather is beautiful, you’re here, and I have some semblance of privacy, but…” Another hiccup came and several treacherous tears trickled down her cheeks. 

In a flash, he in front of her, one knee on the ground and his kind grey eyes fixated directly at her, searching for any signs that caused her distress. “But what?” he gently prodded. 

Shame flooded her yet Sabina couldn’t deny him. In such a short timespan, Orion became one of the very few people who understood her and when they were alone, treated her like a normal person, without a hint of judgement. If anyone could give the truth straight to her, it would be him.

“Am I weak, Orion?” she whispered hoarsely, leveling her vivid pink eyes with his grey ones reluctantly. “Am I just an useless paper doll that can't do anything right?” She reached out, searching for Orion’s hands, to hold onto something real and stable, and he complied, wrapping his gloved hands around her dainty yellow ones. 

“Whoever told you that is wrong, Sabina,” he replied, not even bothering to inquire where this disparaging musing of hers came from. He most likely heard snippets of her mother’s scathing words during their private dinners when he was outside, guarding the door until Sabina was ready to return to her chambers. “You are not weak. You have more strength than you realize.” 

She squeezed his hands a little for solace. “But how? I don’t have the vast knowledge or skill set like many Tiljaani have to help people nor do I know any useful things to contribute to my family or to Goldis in general! There is so much I can’t do or understand, even with an advanced royal education!”

“Your compassion is not a weakness.” The sharp edge in his tone startled Sabina but she listened, feeling herself drawn to Orion and whatever he may say next. “Don’t let anyone else convince you otherwise. There is a shortage of people with a gentle heart like yours, who just want to help and make everyone’s lives a little better. With little or no success, I’ve beheld how you try to reach out to your siblings, the ones who you hardly have interacted with, for a chance to be a real family. And even when you don’t get the result you hoped for, you try again. You’re far too determined to give up so easily.”

Her lips cracked into a tiny smile and she sniffed, trying to clear her nose while a few more tears leaked out even as she blanked them back. Her hands were still collapsed inside Orion’s and she had no desire to retract them back. She liked the way he was holding her--or her hands, in this case. 

“You really think so?” she asked carefully, inwardly wincing at the temor in her voice. She slid down from her stone bench to kneel down in front of Orion, craving to be closer to him and whatever else he had to say. Maybe she was just searching for validation but his words were beginning to bring her some comfort. 

He nodded his head firmly. “I do. After all, you’re one of the very few people here who went out of their way to welcome me and always wanted to know how I was doing or if I needed anything. Do you think I’ve forgotten the time when I reminisced what my favorite dish was to you and magically, the very next day, the kitchens were serving that meal to me for supper?”

“Your face seemed so wistful, so nostalgic that I just had to find a way to give a little piece of your home back to you. All I did was inform the cook of what was in the dish and she did the rest. She did all the work, not me.”

Orion’s visage was now barely an inch away from her, his sincerity blazing freely in his gaze while the corners of his eyes softened ever so slightly. “Yes, but you’re the one who listened to me and took the initiative to make me feel a little bit more welcomed and at home in this new world. No one gave you orders, you just executed that on your own.” A ghost of a smile danced on his mouth, so close to her own lips that for a fleeting second, Sabina was breathless. “That’s just one of the many reasons that make you so beautiful.”

No sooner did that admission left him, did Orion realize his slip and jerked his head back, eyes wide in alarm. Inwardly, Sabina bemoaned the loss of their proximity and with what little physical strength she possessed, she tugged him back to her before he remembered to release her hands. She was so used to his touch and how warm and safe his own hands were.

Peering up at him through her eyelashes (a trick she was glad Maristela taught her), Sabina leaned her body closer to him, saying, “You really mean all that? Even the beautiful part?”

Orion coughed awkwardly, his gaze now on their joined hands, which appeared much more romantic given to how long they were simply kneeling together, holding hands. Finally, the tension melted out of his broad shoulders as he slumped forward, as if conceding. “Yes...yes, I do. I mean every word of it.” 

Her skin glowed like the sun at his confession yet Sabina hardly cared enough to notice. Instead, she leaned in nigh enough for their noses to first bump into each other before she angled her head to its side to plant a chaste but lingering kiss to his cheek. Traces of his beard tickled her skin, a sensation she enjoyed far more than anticipated. The princess thought his beard would be scratchy but its thick smoothness pleasantly surprised her. 

Orion’s breathing hitched but he didn’t yank himself away from her. “Princess, Sabina, are you sure…?”

She kissed him again, this time on the lips. “I’ve never been sure of something my entire life.” Embolden, Sabina planted a third kiss on his forehead and was rewarded with an encouraging, soft smile from Orion. “Consider this a very special thank you from a very grateful and smitten princess.” 

And when Orion’s hands cupped her supple, round face to dry away any remaining tears from her cheeks, he wasted no time to kiss her slowly, steadily, and full of tenderness, causing her poor heart to burst with elation while she encircled her arms around him, feeling the muscles on his back clenching momentarily beneath her fingertips. That last kiss rendered them both breathless, unable to remove themselves from each other’s arms. Sabina was content to sit there, listening to her bodyguard’s heartbeat while he absentmindedly stroked her back.

“You don’t mind that, I, er---?”

“Kissed me?” Sabina grinned as she cocked her head up to face, unable to conceal her glee. “Not at all! I hope you didn’t mind either.” 

His chest rumbled with a chuckle and he tucked one of her long, thin braids behind her ear. “You don’t have to worry about me, Sabina. Unexpected as those kisses were, I enjoyed them as well.”

A coy grin spread itself across her refined features. “Then does that mean we should resume said kissing or if not, at least plan on getting back to it in the near future?”

Orion cocked one bemused brow at her, entertained by her sudden boldness. “I may not know much of Goldis customs but are you attempting to woo me, Princess Sabina?”

Her cheeks darkened by a deep blush, more evident by the vibrant illuminance from her skin. “Yes...? Do you not like that?” Her voice came out rather tentative and nervous. 

Shaking his head, he let himself smile for her again prior to kissing in the center of her forehead, reassuring her that his feelings hadn’t changed or were a fabric of her imagination. “I just wonder what I did to deserve such a kind soul like you.” 

“Just give me a day and I’ll have an entire book filled out on why you’re a noble, wonderful man with a caring heart, sweet eyes, and very nice beard.”

He gave his pepper speckled beard a quick stroke. “Just nice?”

Sabina pouted, crossing her arms. “Don’t tease me, Orion! I really do like your beard!”  

After a few more minutes of banter and blissful enfoldments, she was due to return to the palace and get ready for one of her musical lessons. Smoothing out the creases in the chiffon fabric of her pale pink gown, complete with tiny golden stars decorating the attire from top to bottom, Sabina glanced up in time to watch Orion snap off a brilliantly crimson rose from the nearby rosebush and present the striking flower to her. He scratched the back of his head, an awkward tic of his that Sabina found to be rather endearing.

“I’m not really good at romance or know the correct steps to sweeping you off your feet, but if I’m going to secretly court you, I’m going to do this right,” he explained, looking a little self-conscious as he held out the red rose to her. “And I remember you remarking earlier in our tour of the gardens that roses are one of your favorite flowers so---”

He never got to finish his sentence. Sabina had already tossed her arms around his neck and covered him with at least a half-dozen of airy kisses, all followed by the words: “Thank you thank you, Orion!” 

The next day, Sabina snuck a fresh tulip containing the same color of her rose into one of Orion’s spare holsters. After all, she shouldn’t be the only one to receive gifts in this covert courtship.  

[voltage-vixen]

A Reassuring Reminder----Part V

(This is featuring Gavin from MLQC) Part I   Part II  Part III   Part IV AO3

“You’re finally awake?”

MC groaned as her eyes blinked, adjusting to the newfound darkness of the room. She tried to move, but found her hands were currently tied to the chair she was sitting in.

“W-Where am I?” MC questioned, while surveying the room trying to find any sort of clue that would provide her with information about where she was being kept hostage. 

A tall intimidating cloaked figure furtively scuttled over and roughly pinched the side of her bruised cheeks. 

“That’s enough out of you,” he snarled. “Today, I’ll be the only one asking the questions around here.”

“Let go of me!” MC cried out, while trying her best to wiggle out of his firm grasp.

She managed to bite the tip of his finger and gave him a swift kick in the shin. MC began shimmying the rope that was binding her wrists together.

“You little brat,” he growled. “As long as you’re still able to open that mouth of yours, it doesn’t matter how much I rough you up in the meantime. After you talk, we really only are going to need your corpse to access your powers anyway.”

Almost there! Just a little looser, and I should be able to slip out of here!

He raised his hand high to strike her, and MC winced in a painful anticipation for the hard slap, until she managed to break free from the binding. Rolling down to the ground, MC made the man stumble from the from the loss of impact, allowing MC a chance to throw open the door and escape down the dark hallway.

MC had no idea where she was going, but frantically ran in search of an exit. The musky scent radiating from the walls was becoming overbearing, causing MC to start to feel lightheaded.

No, I can’t stop now! I need to find a way out of here, so I can contact Gavin.

Her optimism soon faded when she found that she had run into a corner that was a dead end. MC was about to spin around, but froze in her tracks when she felt a cold metal object pressed against the back of her temple.

“On second thought, maybe the boss will still be satisfied with your lifeless body,” the man she had been trying to escape from condemned. “I’ll explain how there was a slight complication in the abduction process. Sure, we won’t be able to interrogate you like we originally had anticipated, but at least we’ll still have your vessel at our disposal.”

MC remained paralyzed in fear and found that the dryness of her mouth was preventing her from being able to formulate a reply. Tears were beginning to slowly trickle down her cheeks, and MC clenched her fist in a knowingly acceptance.

Incidental moments of her life flashed before MC’s eyes, and she silently prayed for her father to be waiting for her on the other side of wherever one goes at the end of their lifespan.

“Not so tough, now are you?”

The cruel voice of her assailant reinforced the precarious severity of the current situation at hand. While about to fall into the clutches of a nervous breakdown, it was also at that exact moment MC swore she felt a gentle breeze brush over her.

A slight tickle on her wrist caused MC to glance down to see the gingko bracelet lightly swaying. The sight consoled MC, and a small smile broke onto her face. Although this was probably only her hopeful imagination running wild, MC felt Gavin’s presence in her heart. Suddenly a newfound braveness ignited from within her.

“I’ll never give in to you,” she declared. “You may succeed in killing me today, but whatever your plan is, it will not prosper. Gavin will never allow that to happen!”

Her kidnapper buried the cock of the gun deeper into the crook of MC’s neck, and tightly squeezed the side of her arm with his other hand.

“I admire your gallantry, despite how foolish it is to have any in your given predicament. Since I find you amusing, I’ll allow you one last opportunity to share any final thoughts you may have.”

Even though MC had no doubt in her mind that this man was going to make good on his threat, she was feeling strangely calm inside. She raised her head highly and turned around to stare down the menace directly. If today was going to be the day she died, MC refused to die a coward.

“I’ve been fortunate to live a fulfilling life,” MC necessitated. “There is only wish thing I wish I would have said to someone. And I would have told them-.”

“Don’t finish that sentence and get down on the ground NOW!” Gavin’s voice unanticipatedly boomed into the hallway.

Without hesitation, MC dropped to the ground, and covered her ears as the sounds of gunshots echoed throughout the small corridor. The shots of weapons and footsteps pattering about were the only commotions MC could hear.

“Gavin, please be careful!” MC desperately tried to shout over the resounding noise.

Her body began to tremble in worry, terrified of the unknown status of Gavin and the others on his team that were surely accompanying him. But before MC even had a chance to get absorbed into her uneasiness, she felt the weight of Gavin’s body on top of her.

“Don’t worry, I could never leave you behind,” he whispered reassuringly.

Gavin forced MC’s head back down to the ground, and kept shooting at the enemy, whose numbers were slowly beginning to dwindle down thanks to the captain and his crew. The whole time Gavin, would give MC’s head the occasional pat of comfort, trying to keep her calm from the surrounding chaos.

After what seemed like nearly an eternity, the once anarchic atmosphere was now silent.

“G-Gavin? Is it over?” MC cautiously stammered, unsure of whether it was safe for her to finally move.

“At least for now it is,” Gavin sighed, before placing a small kiss on the side of her cheek and helped her to stand on her feet. “Looks like the others left to chase down the small group that tried to escape.”

After Gavin helped MC brace herself, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that one of the masked men who had been unconscious, was dragging themselves across the floor to grab one of the guns that had been lying around.

“Gavin, look out!” MC yelled out to warn him.

The next few seconds seemed to flash by in slow motion, MC’s warning came to no avail, and the criminal managed to fire off a shot.

Gavin shoved MC out of the way, but his arm was clipped by the bullet in the process. They tumbled to the ground together, and Gavin hissed in pain while achingly clenching his wound. MC gasped when she saw the drops of red blood, ooze through the fabric of his shirt. She wrapped him into a hug and started to scream for help.

“Gavin’s been shot!” MC projected her scream down the hallway. “Please! Somebody! Anybody!”

She turned her attention to Gavin and cradled his cheek with her cool hand.

“It’ll be okay, Gavin,” MC soothingly encouraged Gavin, who was fighting to remain conscious.

Gavin faintly beamed at her, before resting his head on MC’s shoulder.

“Call for help, and everything should be fine,” he managed to utter. “I love y-.”

Gavin’s eyes flickered a few times, until they peacefully closed. MC observed the blood pooling from his arm and onto the ground, and knew Gavin needed immediate medical attention.

Her piercing wails resounded through the facility, as she howled for somebody to come and help them.

To be continued......

*Note: Sorry this chapter took so long to write! I really was in my own head with this one, but I’m starting to feel a bit better now! Also, this was supposed to be the last chapter, but I felt the ending would have been rushed, therefore you can expect one more chapter. 

@agustd54, @kuronekokot, @inukazoki, @bubblyblossomx, @roses-n-pandas, @thegrandduckmaster, @zavannahmj,  @n3verending16

[wolf-555-writer]

Target On My Back Part 3

Hope you guys still like where this is going xd. And thanks for all the comments, likes and reblogs, I’m so glad you like it, it really means a lot! Thanks! :) 

PART 1 | PART 2 

Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow x Reader

Summary: You desperately need answers about your connection between Natalia and you. Will you find them? And will you like what you’ll find?

Word Count: 2,712

Charming, sparkling green eyes, piercing right through you. With an intense longing gaze and a mesmerizing grin. Drawing you closer, leaning in, she’s got a hold of you. Absolutely enchanted by her, and her impressive skills, her amazing figure and total fearlessness for everything. Her beautiful red hair tickles on your skin as she presses her soft, red lips on your neck. Melting away at her delicate touch. The fact that she shot you in the leg, minor detail, you’re already over it. Still alive and kicking, right? Her hand moves from your waist to your hips smoothly, and ends up on your back while she pulls you closer. Her body pressed against yours, she has complete control over you. “Stay…”, you beg her, exhaling a bit shaky since you struggle to breathe correctly. Giving in and closing your eyes in satisfaction as your heart flutters. With a soft voice she whispers in your ear, sensing her warm breath on your skin:  

“Agent (Y/L/N)? Are you hearing this?”, Coulson presses, snapping his fingers displeased, probably in response to your silence and absent-minded stare. “Yes, loud and clear sir”, you answer with a straight face, seated in a small, cramped space on an uncomfortable chair. No windows and barely any fresh air judging by the fusty smell hanging around. “Well then, can you repeat the question for me?”. “...Um-”. Debriefing. That's what they call it. After the second time it started to feel more like an interrogation. “I thought so. I asked if you can walk me through that moment just before Agent Hill arrived. One more time please”, Coulson insists, now leaning on the metal table while assuming an intimidating stature. You’d rather go back to that daydream…. Despite the several ‘interrogation’ attempts by Coulson and Hill, you haven’t told them what exactly happened between Natalia and you, both times. All these questions, asked in a particular, distrusting way. He’s really pushing it. Why even believe some deadly assassin over a government organization anyway? You have mixed feelings about it, about Natalia, about SHIELD and about yourself. Can’t pinpoint the exact reason where it’s coming from, but you have to figure it out. If you had known her before, you would know right? ‘Cause seriously, you don’t forget someone like her that easy. “So, are we done here?”, you urge, suppressing the rage, trying your best not to let it all out. “Yes, all clear Agent (Y/L/N). You’re dismissed”, Coulson states, closing the file in front of him, not written down a single word because you told the exact same story, just like all the previous times. Not cleared for field work yet as you’ve been recovering from the gunshot wound in your leg. Taking it easy and slow, which you undeniably hate. Although, it has given you enough time to think. Not too powerful, you slam both hands on the table in a passive-aggressive way and stand up, hearing the screeching of the metal chair on the floor as you push it back. Without saying another word you exit the room and march off. With a slight limp though, so it’s not as overpowering as intended to, but he got the point.

“Hi Maria!”, you greet, walking through the hallway at SHIELD headquarters, seeing her approach with a fast pace and a dead serious look. “It's Agent H-”. “Agent Hill, I know, I know. I was wondering if you have an assignment for me. It’s okay if it's a routine mission or anything, just give me something to do”, you ask in despair, being bored as hell around here. “I can't. I'm sorry. You haven't gotten the clearance from Coulson yet”, she answers while still moving. “From Coulson?”. Wait, so the doctor already cleared you for duty, yet Coulson didn't? Agent Hill clearly has other matters to attend to, no time to stop or respond as she continued her course with haste. Well… Coulson’s credibility really hit a low point at the moment. Loyal to SHIELD. Trust the system. Words you don't believe in anymore. Okay, it’s true, SHIELD always keeps secrets. But you need answers. Right now. Obviously asking for the information is by far the worst option, no doubt they would lie or cover it up anyway. A group of Agents pass you. They’re gazing at you just a bit too long with their judgy eyes. The story of your failures has been going around, or whatever you might call them. Missing and failing to apprehend the target. Losing the package. You're being watched, your every move, like you’re a traitor, a criminal. Especially Coulson is giving you that feeling. So you have to be careful. Probably the reason why you haven't considered the more obvious choice, which is tracking down Natalia. You have to do this, before talking yourself out of it, it’s now or never.

You chuckle, it’s kinda ironic, the skills taught by SHIELD now used to break-in into their own compound. It sure comes in handy, knowing the routines, codes and how to bypass the security system. Standing in a dark corner with your back against the wall, looking at your watch while counting down the seconds. A couple of guards will pass by any moment now. And… go. Setting the timer. You’ve got 8 minutes, should be enough. Looking over your shoulder one more time while you type in the passcode and covertly slip past the door, into the records room. You’re in. The blue screen lights up your face, and with a hypnotic stare you search for the info, now scrolling through the data of previous SHIELD operations like a maniac. Maybe you encountered her on a mission before, or you were part of a secret SHIELD program, forced to wipe your memory. Can’t find a connection between Black Widow and you. There has to be one, right? Because it feels like there is one. There’s a strange familiarity about her. You have to dig deeper. Accessing your personnel file, maybe that will shed some light on it. 4 minutes and 30 seconds left. A lot of stuff about your past is redacted, the file is filled with secrets. Why? Then you stumble upon a medical report.   

“(Y/N)! Can you hear me?!”, Coulson shouts using both his hands to focus the sound while slowly progressing through the thick layer of snow beneath him. The desperation in his voice is all too clear. “Are you sure it’s here?”, Agent Barton asks with a loud voice, also searching, several meters away from Coulson. “Yes, it’s here. It has to be...”. A low, almost inaudible groan has caught Coulson’s attention as he jolts his head and immediately struggles towards it. “Quick Barton, HERE!”. He kneels while pushing some of the ice-cold snow out of the way. “Don’t you think we’re too late Coulson?”. “No. I won’t believe that. I can't”, he utters in concern. No optimism left, until his expression suddenly changes. “I still feel a pulse. It’s very weak, but it’s there. Let's go!”.  

Perhaps those recurring nightmares were telling you something… Heavily beaten up, a couple of broken bones, and in your chest, close to your heart, a gunshot wound. Covered in snow mixed with blood and a whole lot of other injuries you were brought into the infirmary of a remote, classified SHIELD location by Coulson and Barton. How did I even survive this? You think, reading the file in disbelief. If that bullet had pierced you a couple of centimeters lower, you would have been dead, no doubt. And the cold temperature apparently saved your life too. There’s more information, it’s of a meeting between Coulson and you. Were you an informant? With Coulson being your handler? But you were told that you’ve been a SHIELD Agent your entire life, and a well trained one too. You believed them, didn’t question them. You even have your own academy records to prove it. “Was it all a lie? Was I a target? A criminal?”, realizing you are one of them. The people that you despise, and hunt for a living, the ‘bad guys’. Turns out you and Natalia are not so different after all. “No, NO. this is- this can’t be true”. There’s an audio file. You’re about to open it when you hear a noise.

“Hey, there’s somebody inside!”. “Fuck”. You still had 2 minutes left!? “Good evening fellas. This doesn’t have to go the hard way”, you advise in a nonchalant fashion, carefully shifting towards them with your hands up, trying to close the distance. “You’re not authorised to be here!”, one of the guards barks at you as two of the four enter. “Okay, suit yourself. Hard way it is then”, you decide while sprinting forward and forcing the door shut with your foot, locking two of them out. The other two inside promptly react and one swings his baton at you. You slip by ducking down. Making a spin while moving up, you hit him with the backside of your right elbow, followed by a left hook just below the eye. The other one moves towards you, swinging his baton. But you grip it tight, along with his other arm, preventing a blow to your head. Perceiving a crackling electricity sound right beside you. Okay... so these are also tasers, how convenient. You toss the guard to the side and taunt with a wide grin: “I can keep this up all day, guys”. Turning your head to the door as it opens again. The short distraction caused you to be forcefully thrown against the just unlocked entrance, with the guards arm crushing your throat. Gasping for air while you're being choked. However, the other two guards luckily can’t get in as you feel them banging on the door. Powerfully kicking him between the legs - always effective - now able to shove the guard back with your arms, to end with a kick in his stomach. You hunch over, hands resting on your knees, and cough due to the lack of oxygen intake. The other guard took this opportunity and has tased you around the waist area with his charged weapon. A painful shock radiates through your torso and you let out a painful cry. Quickly kicking the baton out of his hand and pivoting your whole body, loading up for another one. With the heel of your boot you strike him on the temple. Knocking him out before he crashes to the floor.

“Stop Agent (Y/L/N)!”, a familiar voice orders. It’s Coulson. “Stand down!”. A stinging pain in your neck makes you stop and you reach for it. He shot you with something. Displaying your left hand to see what it is, holding a type of dart in your palm. “This is for your own safety”. “What the h-”. Mid-sentence you collapse on the ground. Your body feels heavy, fading away as it gets dark before your eyes.   

“Hello, this is Agent Coulson”. “Sir, the prisoner has finally woken up”, a doctor informs on the phone. “Good. It’s been weeks. I'll be there as soon as possible”. Coulson enters the room inside the remote infirmary facility, however the bed is empty and the cuffs are opened. “What? How-”. He gets grabbed from behind. Trapped in a strong headlock and an IV needle firmly pressed on the skin near his carotid artery. “Easy, easy. So ...I see you’re feeling better (Y/N)”, Coulson carefully speaks as he puts his hands up to show that he's surrendering. “How do you know my name and who the hell are you?! Why was I chained to the bed!? Talk!”. “Do you want answers or not? Then you have to let me go first. Okay (Y/N)?”. “This is Fury”. “Director, it's Coulson. Sir, I'm back in Eastern Europe again and I have an interesting case here. My informant is awake, but has no memory”. “No memory?”. “Yes, sir. No idea about their past whatsoever”. “I see... We could use an Agent with that specific skill set here at SHIELD. They could be a valuable asset”. “My thoughts exactly sir”. “It’s best if no one knows the details about this”. “Nobody will know sir”. “Okay. I trust you Coulson. Agent (Y/L/N) is your responsibility now”.

“I thought I would find you here, sooner or later”. Perceiving Coulson’s voice as you slowly open your eyelids, feeling a little fuzzy. Wanting to move your arms and legs, however you can’t. “What the hell did you do to me?!”, you yell, tied to the chair with your wrist and ankles secured. He definitely injected you with a paralyzing agent earlier. “I should have never assigned you that mission. But I thought you would be the only one that could match up to Black Widow”, Coulson reveals, avoiding eye contact with you. Why would he say that? What is he playing at? Still trying to free yourself by moving around as you feel two hands grasping your shoulders. You shrug them off, but it only causes you to be pushed down with even more force. Detained by the two guards that you fought, having a hateful expression on their face. Can’t blame them though. “You need to fix this Coulson”, you protest, never having felt so enraged and betrayed before. “I can't. It can't be fixed anymore. And trust me, you don't want it to be fixed either”. “Trust you? Not a chance”, you scoff. “You kept this from me, lied to me”. He clearly doesn't want you to know about your past. “You have proven yourself over the years, being an excellent Agent here at SHIELD. Do you want to destroy all that?”. “Cut the crap Phil. What did SHIELD do to me?! I want answers, now”, you demand, not actually in a position to make these at the moment, being tied up and all. “Well, you may not like what you’ll find”, Coulson comments as he’s pacing back and forth. “I don’t care. I had your back. And you took advantage of me, used me for your own means”. Sick of all the secrets, cause it’s driving you crazy. “I just need to know who I am and where I’m from”. Coulson stares at you with a conflicted expression. “You can't know. That is why we lied to you in the first place. The secrets are there for a reason”. “I will never stop looking for answers Coulson”. “I know you won’t”. He looks away and sighs while shaking his head in an upset manner. You hoped this trip to the archives would trigger a memory, yet it didn’t. You’re desperate, not knowing who you are anymore. After some minutes you break the cutting silence. “Did I know her? Did I know Natalia? Come on Coulson, I need to know”. Coulson takes a strong breath in and ponders, hearing the gears turning in his head. “Guards, can you give us the room please?”, he instructs, sending the guards away, leaving you and him alone. He finally decided to give in. Now standing right in front of you, he tells with a deep sigh: “Okay, but you might want to sit down for this”. “...Really Coulson”. Considering the position you’re in, you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “Well you know what I mean”.

Sitting outside, watching the sunset, Natalia has a picture in her hand. One of the edges is torn off and it’s wrinkled, probably due to the fact that she always carries it with her. The slight discoloration suggests it's an older picture. It's the last and only one she has, possibly the only personal belonging too. On it are two people wearing a uniform, standing side by side. One of them is a red-headed woman, winking at the camera, matched with a subtle grin. The other person close next to her is staring at her with a longing gaze and smiling. Left arm wrapped around her shoulder, being completely enchanted by her. By her laugh, her fiery green eyes and fearlessness. It’s you. You and her in this old picture. Together. Holding it close, Natalia gently caresses the image of you with her thumb and softly whispers:

“I hope one day you’ll remember me...”

PART 4

[somethingjustsouthofbrilliance]

Intermezzo (an Infinity War Tag)

So I’m very new to this fandom and this is my very first foray into Marvel fanfiction, so I am extremely, extremely nervous here (palms sweating and all). But the movie ripped me apart emotionally and got my muse all worked up, so I took the jump.  

The amazing @hedgehog-goulash7 was gracious enough to beta the story for me, and I can’t thank her enough for her help, her invaluable input and her encouragement! My dear, I owe you greatly! <3 

And @tonystark5ever - I promised to tag you if I ever got this written down.  I’m sorry the story didn’t quite go the way I had intended (the lady Tony helped didn’t make it in there after all), but I do hope you still enjoy the read.

So here it is. Hope you enjoy (and please drop me a comment if you do).

                                                     Intermezzo

 The Titan sun beats down on him – a harsh, mercilessly blinding light that engulfs the desolate landscape below it, but somehow doesn’t give off any warmth.  It’s cold on that rubble-littered, amber-washed expanse – a biting, jaw-locking chill that seeps into his very bones, makes him shiver.

A gust of wind tears past him, kicking up a small cloud of dust – no, not dust, ash, ash! Peter. Dear God, Peter… – and he huddles in on himself, slams his eyes shut, squeezes them (harder, harder, harder). But it’s all in vain.  Because he can still see it billowing around him, can feel the tiny black particles brush against his skin as they settle back down – on his face, in his hair, on the ground at his feet.  

He feels colder still.

  “We need to go.”  The words carry toward him with another gust of wind – calm, emotionless, and also cold, so very cold.  A reminder of another’s presence, of a witness to his slow unraveling, as he sits there shaking violently and rocking back and forth like a lost pitiful child seconds away from crumpling into a pathetic, wailing mess.  It should bother him that she can see him like that at his most vulnerable.  Should make him want to pull the hopelessly tattered pieces of his mask back together, to shield himself from another’s open judgment.  But he just… he just doesn’t care.

 “Where?” he wants to ask.  “Why?” comes out instead, a listless, uncaring response.  Because why bother? Everything that he has feared has come to pass.  Everyone that ever mattered to him (and he is sure that it’s true on Earth as well, can feel it with every halting beat of his anguished, shredded heart) is gone, while he is cursed to carry on with the weight of the deaths of all those he failed. His worst nightmare come to life.

 He should be dead.  It would be better.  Should let nature take its course, let Titan’s gravity drain the last of the blood from his body, let it seep into the hungry, rust-colored ground, dissolve among the ashes of those who mattered so much more than he ever did.

 He shivers once more as the wind brushes his blood-soaked clothes – a biting, ice-cold touch.  Rests his forehead on his trembling, ash-covered hands.

 “Come!” A hand – small and heavy – lands on his shoulder, grips it in an unapologetically crushing, metal vise.

 Fucking cyborg, he thinks, making a futile attempt to pull away. “Let go.”

 She does the opposite. Of course she does.  Because when has anyone ever listened to him.  

The grip on his shoulder tightens impossibly as she yanks him up off the ground, pulls him roughly to his feet.  And Tony’s too busy gnashing his teeth against a sharp jolt of pain at the unsanctioned movement to notice her move in front of him, to spot her other hand shoot snake-like toward his body, toward the throbbing wound in his side.

 “He spared you,” she hisses, driving her fist brutally below his ribs. She watches, cold and intent, as his body seizes involuntarily within her grasp, his breath cutting out on a strangled choke. “Why?”

 Warm liquid coats the tip of his tongue where his teeth dug deep into the flesh of his lip, a thick metallic tang filling his mouth.  “Why don’t you ask him?” Tony spits it all out – words and bloody spittle, defiant, as he nods in the general direction of the rubble where he last saw Strange, at the scattered pile of ashes there. Because whatever the wizard’s plan was, whatever it was that he had seen in his vision – he never bothered to share any of it with Tony.  Nothing but a vague declaration and a regretful apology that left him none the wiser.

 The blue-skinned cyborg is not amused.

 “I’m asking you,” she insists, her black eyes glistening dangerously.  “He sacrificed the stone, let half the universe perish, just so you could live.  Why?”  

 She snarls the word “you” like it’s an insult, the worst of its kind.  And he thinks it’s ridiculous, because is that really the best she can do? For someone like him?  When what he deserves is–

 Tony barks out a laugh – a harsh, brittle sound that feels more like a sob, burning his throat as it tears through him.  

It breaks upon her rage, seems to fuel it more if the warning twitch of the blue-skinned cheek is any indication.  But he no longer gives a damn.  Doesn’t flinch when the metal arm releases his shoulder to swipe an angry arc toward his head.  Welcomes with a twisted sort of gratitude the vicious blow and the darkness that follows.

 ***

 The merciful darkness doesn’t last, and all too soon awareness returns, pain ripping him out of the warm cocoon of nothingness.  

 He lies still for a moment, lets himself take stock.

 There’s a hard surface underneath him, polished, smooth.  It doesn’t feel like Titan’s rocky dust-covered terrain.  The air he breathes is likewise devoid of dust; it feels clean, almost artificially so.  And if he expands his senses a bit further, he can hear a faint steady rumble of an engine that sends small vibrations through the surface he’s lying on. Peeling his eyes open confirms to him what he already knows – he’s back on a ship, flying through space.  

 He lets his gaze roam around the unfamiliar cramped surroundings, still too dazed, in too much pain to register much beyond a hazy blue-skinned figure in the pilot’s seat. Right, the tie-dyed Sinead O’Connor, he remembers, reaching up to touch his pounding temple.  Winces when his fingertips brush the bruised flesh there, sticky with dried blood.  Damn.

 “Wh’r’you… t-takin’ me?”

 She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t show any sign of having heard or acknowledged his person. Reaches over to fiddle with the controls instead.

 Tony closes his eyes in preparation. Grits his teeth against the pain he knows is to come.  Slowly, laboriously, pulls himself up into a semi-seated position, leaning awkwardly against a nearby bulkhead.  Takes a few short, steadying breaths as he waits for the reawakened agony in his side to subside enough that he can trust himself to speak again.  Directs a half-hearted glare toward her once more, blinking in a desperate bid to clear the black spots dancing in his vision.

 “Where… are you… taking me?”

 “To fulfill your purpose,” comes a calm, dispassionate response.  “You will help me slay Thanos.”

 He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at that.  Because wasn’t she there? Didn’t she see what happened the last time he went against Thanos, the last time any of them went against Thanos? And that was before the deranged overgrown raisin had the entire stone collection within his grabby purple paw.  How exactly is she hoping to defeat him now when all he needs to do is snap his fingers and the both of them will be snuffed out of existence?

 He must have said some of that out loud because the next thing he knows she’s crouching before him, purple lips curled back in a snarl.  “I have seen you fight, Terran,” she says, cold, but there’s a note of grudging respect in her words.  “You are weak, but your armor is strong.  Strong enough to distract him, while I deliver the killing blow.”

 “You want me to draw his fire.”  Tony can’t help it – the idea is so preposterous that the bubble of laughter that threatens is too much for him to keep in.  Can’t keep it in even when the cybernetic patchwork of a face before him twists in a way that doesn’t bode well for his already unmanageable headache.

  “You find this funny, Terran?”

 “Hilarious, actually,” he manages past another hiccupped giggle.  Then he grows serious, all sense of mirth leaving him in a tired huff of air.  “You know I have a six-inch-wide hole through my guts, right?  That my insides are being held together with an arachnoid equivalent of duct tape. How long do you think I would last with Thanos when I can’t even see straight, much less stand?”

 She growls, low and dangerous.  Draws her face closer in a not so veiled attempt to intimidate.

“You will manage,” she states, and her confidence sounds like a threat.  Then scoffs, disdainful, “I have been pulled apart piece by piece and I managed.  I fought and I survived.  And you do not need to survive.”

 “My survival was never part of the plan,” he counters wearily, his weariness quickly shifting into raspy, toothless anger – because how can she be so blind, how does she not understand! “But I’m useless against him now. Both of us are.”  Weakly he raises his hand (covered in ashes, still covered in ashes – and he can’t look at it, can’t look; he’s gonna lose it if he does), waves it back and forth between them to emphasize his point.  “No offense to your cybertronic patchwork there and your obvious anger-management issues, but unless we somehow find a way to go back in time, there’s no possible scenario where we would…”

 He trails off, his mind stumbling over the idea so ridiculously improbable, so dizzyingly, so hope-inspiringly plausible.  

 “I gotta get back,” he murmurs in a dazed echo to his own thoughts, then snaps his gaze up to the two fathomless pools of blackness hovering over him and blurts out, urgent now, “you gotta take me to Earth.”

 She regards him stonily, her expression unchanged save for the slight twitching of the skin around the cybernetic eye.  “We’re going after Thanos,” she declares with an air of finality even as she turns to walk back to the pilot seat.  “I don’t have time to make detours.”

 “You don’t understand!” He lurches after her, only to make it halfway off the floor before a nauseating spike in pain drops him right back down, his breath choked off and vision swimming. “P-please…,” he insists, when he manages to find his voice again, no matter how unsteady.  Grinds the words stubbornly through clenched teeth.  “I gotta… it’s the o-only way…”

 She ignores him. Settles calmly back into her chair, turning her back on Tony and his pained appeals to her reason.

 “Please,” he tries again, his voice no more than a strained whisper as he attempts once more to push himself up.  He’s not afraid of dying – in a fight with Thanos, where he knows he stands no chance, weakened as he is by his wound, or here on this very ship at the hands of the blue-skinned cyborg, who, he is sure, won’t hesitate to snap his neck if he tried to wrestle her for the controls.  But wrestle her he will, if it’s the last thing he does.  Because he has to make her listen, make her understand that this isn’t the way – not his way, at any rate.  

 They cannot defeat Thanos through direct confrontation.  The endgame is not about that; he’s sure of it now.  And if he takes what Strange had told him to heart, if his life was spared because he was needed to ensure that the one outcome where the universe survives comes to pass, then he needs to go back to doing what he does best – fixing things. He needs to find a way to fix the timeline so Thanos never gets his hands on all the stones, so he remains vulnerable, defeatable.  So none of this nightmare comes true.

 So Peter and the others get to live.

 And he can’t do that here on this ship.  Can’t do that if Thanos kills him before he has the chance to even try.  

 “Please,” he gasps out, wobbling his way to his knees. “I n..need t’… get home.”

 “I’ll take you.”

 A new, vaguely familiar voice calls out behind him, cutting through the steadily increasing roar in his ears, and he twists around, the ship’s interior spinning about him in a sickening parallel to his movement.  

 “Thing Two,” he breathes out, grinning crookedly up at the portly Asian that has appeared beside him in a fiery red circle of sparks.  “F-fancy meeting you here…”  

 He wants to say something else, wants to apologize for failing to protect Strange and the stone, wants to warn him about Baldy, who, he’s pretty sure, is not gonna take too kindly to the wizard’s appearance on her ship.  But his tongue refuses to move to his brain’s command and his vision dims, blackness encroaching from the edges.  And he finds himself falling…

    ***

 He dreams of Peter. Of the boy’s arms that tremble as they cling to his shoulders.  Of his voice, thin and small with fear – “I don’t wanna go, Mr. Stark.  Please, I don’t wanna go.”  Of the lanky body that crumbles away into particles of dust underneath his hands even as he tries his goddamn best to hold on to him.  

 “I’m sorry…”

 The boy’s face disintegrates before him, ash circling in the air, twisting, churning, before it settles back down on Tony’s hair, Tony’s hands, Tony’s face.

 “Peter,” he cries out and chokes as the dust grows thicker all of a sudden, fusing together to form a new shape – a flaming ginger cascade of hair, a pale freckled face, blue eyes – wide and terrified.

 “No,” he pleads, reaching toward her even as she, too, starts to crumble to dust before him. “No!”

 ***

 He wakes with a start, his breath hitching as his gaze lands on the familiar worry-creased face hovering inches above his.  He reaches toward her, half expecting the illusion to fall apart at any moment. But the image persists, and there’s warm, solid flesh that meets his searching, trembling fingers.  

 “Pepper,” he gasps wetly, reverently, latching on hard enough to bruise.  A desperate bid of a nightmare-ravaged mind to assure himself that he isn’t still dreaming, to keep her here, to stop her from disappearing like her counterpart in his dream, like the boy he tried so hard to protect and in the end still failed to save.

 She lets him hold her, enfolds him into an embrace just as crushing and desperate as his own as he cries brokenly into the crumpled fabric of her shirt.  

 “I lied,” she tells him, pulling one hand away to card her fingers through his hair. “That day at the park… when I told you I wasn’t pregnant….  I lied.”

 He pulls away, too, then, frowns at her mutely, his eyes darting over her face, seeking confirmation to what he just heard.

 “I was scared,” she confesses with a rueful smile, reaching up to wipe tear tracks from his cheeks. “Every time something good happened for us, something terrible would come along and ruin it, and I just… I didn’t wanna jinx it.  I thought… if I waited a little longer, if I just… if I just waited, we’ll be okay. And then we got attacked, and you went off into space, and half the people disappeared, and I thought… I thought I lost you anyway and I never got a chance to tell you, and…”  Her voice cuts out on a strangled little laugh that sounds more like a sob.

 He blinks, slow and dazed, lowers his gaze to her stomach, his fingers brushing the fabric-covered skin – still perfectly toned and flat.  “A baby?” he whispers, voice cracking with wonder.  “We’re gonna have a … a baby?”

 She nods, her lips trembling as she tries in vain to hold back her own tears.  “The man that brought you back, he said that…” She sniffles, lets out a long, shaky breath.  “I know what you must do, Tony.  I know that you may not… that I may lose you for good….”  She squeezes her eyes shut, presses her lips together in a thin pale line as if trying to hold in a scream.  Hiccups out, voice hitching, “I can’t… I can’t have secrets from you.  Not like this. Not anymore. I­­–”

 He shushes her, finger pressed against her quivering lips.  Moves his hand to cup her tear-stained cheek.  “I will fix this,” he vows.  “I will fix this and I’ll do my best to come back to you.”  He rests his other hand against her belly, amends quietly, “Both of you.” Smiles as she nods tearfully against his palm, her hand rising to cover his own.  

 It’s a lie and they both know it, both read the truth – ‘I love you’/ ‘Forgive me’ – in each other’s eyes.  

 “I will hold you to that, Mr. Stark.”

 He huffs wistfully at the familiar repartee, drops his head on her shoulder, letting his forehead rest against the cool silk of her shirt.  Closes his eyes and inhales deeply, allowing her scent, her warmth, the feel of her fingers stroking his hair enfold him.  Lets himself melt into the tangible truth of her embrace, to enjoy this small refuge of love and peace for a little while longer, drawing from it the much needed strength for whatever tomorrow will bring.

 “I expect nothing less, Ms. Potts.”

  FIN

Note (spoiler): After I wrote the story, I came across a post where Gwyneth Paltrow talks about a baby in the future for Tony and Pepper. Hopefully, my story is prophetic in that respect :)

[shardclan]

Fog gathered in the river valley like steam gyres huddling together to hide from the impending dawn. The first rays were flickering over the towering peak of House Betelgeuse off the eastern sea-side cliff, and it wouldn't be long until the light crested those hills and cascaded down into the Summerlands.

It was probably almost comfortable for Renat under his thick fur. Telos found it cold, and nostalgic. Her coronation had taken place in the peaking time of western Sornieth's spring, when the still air seemed desperate to stay cool, but the sun and the warm southern wind and the waking of the flowers couldn't be held back. In the Isles, it was always cold. Spring didn't mean anything. The season of starfall blossoms and cautiously busy bees began in that shimmering place between summer and autumn.

Perhaps she only thought that way because she was tired. As promised, Renat had gone to see Tungsten. Little was gained though Telos watched him try until the entire room had been coated in hoarfrost. She didn't know what, if anything, Renat had been feeling when he agreed to join her in the valley before the sun rose. Though he probably wouldn't have cared, she was grateful for the thickness of the fog that left them both indiscriminate shapes in the gray.

Katiyana moved through the fog like an ancient relic given life, clear as day to them both. His antlers formed the perch for no less than a dozen birds, and though he walked on the paths reserved for the centaurs, they didn't disturb him. He didn't count, they said.

"That's him then," Renat said certainly. "Hibernas' son."

"I didn't bring you here to bother him, Renat."

"Then what is this morning meeting for?" His amorphous shape shifted, and she heard him sniffing at the air. "Especially as you have come to it without your knight."

Telos shrugged casually. "Sometimes a dog is better than a knight."

Bestealcian's snicker was flat and short, and could have been no more than a snapped twig. Renat scowled. "You were not born into royalty and it shows."

"Thank you."

"That was not a compliment," he said coldly. "It is exactly this way of thinking that should not propagate in royalty yet here you are. All because of some tiny lineage that thought taking in any old vagabond as a mate was acceptable. You are more a mother hen than a queen, pecking anything that appears to threaten your brood, even when it may be good for them."

Telos crossed her arms, and drummed at the bend of one elbow. She didn't necessarily disagree with Renat. It was no secret she had taken some of her cues on successful rule from Caress and the good Margravine was known to be extremely protective of her workers. Having someone quietly killed in a back alley wasn't the way Telos did things, but she did believe in intimidation tactics, and some cheerful strong-arming where necessary. And she was always ready to fight for her people. It could definitely be interpreted as ignoble. 

Yet she got the feeling that Renats words weren't really about any of that. "Are you still on about Kati?" she asked with weary exasperation. "He doesn't want whatever you're envisioning for him."

"As if that matters. He will have to return to the warden eventually, and this escapism will not help him."

"Escapism from what exactly?” she hissed harshly but quietly. “He isn't his fathers; he's barely more than a child! Hibernas' burdens don't fall to him."

A snort answered her. "You Arcanites have always been too quick to assume choice is a factor in the lives of other dragons. Hibernas had no choice, neither do I, and neither does the boy. Ice is the path we walk, no other."

"Yet Hibernas clearly made a choice that was unexpected, or Katiyana wouldn't exist. In order to leave something behind of himself and Floe, he denied the Ice, even if it was only in the smallest way." She rubbed the damp from her shoulders, and added in a softer tone: "The way that meant the most to Floe."

"A creature born from the Warden's coat experienced sympathy--or perhaps remorse for Floe's kidnapping--and attempted to make amends..." His voice came in the slow, confused drawl of someone repeating something that only sounded less believable the second time around. "Is that what you're implying?"

"What I'm saying," she grated with thinning patience. "Is that Hibernas loved Floe in whatever strange way he had. And if you can look at Kati and still not acknowledge that, you are clearly not as logical and impartial as you think you are."

The tone of the morning changed as the sun blearily crested the western mountains. The sky was full of high, feathery clouds, and the fog filled with a warm but diffused light.  

Telos didn't intend to lose the slight extension of their privacy. "I called you out to ask about Hitth. How did the creature lose its facets?"

The question clearly took him aback. "I-it--That's--" he sputtered, and with surprising grace gathered himself and admitted, "I don't know. Chosen in the Isles are Imprisoners. Nothing more."

"Does that include the one who would have first sealed Hitth back when the Isles were young? No ancient ice magics lost to time at play?"

"If such magic existed, it was preserved, not lost. That is the way things are done. We don't destroy Outsiders, nor alter the state we find them in beyond what Imprisonment is capable of. If the creature emerged weakened, that is as it was found."

"Yet you know of how it gains facets and that it's stronger when it has them... Do you keep records? Would that Chosen have had a partner who may have done something?"

"No," Renat said tartly. "What are you really asking me?"

Telos ignored him. "Why don't Chosen kill the Outsiders?"

An irate silence answered her, and then a sigh. "In the Isles, all but the weakest Outsiders are very likely to abandon their stolen bodies and simply return to the Outside. Killing leads to a dead dragon and an Outsider who may come back latter with more cunning ideas."

The fog was beginning to thin. Telos could see Renat's featured rather than a blurry bulk of fur and cloaks. He was still facing the valley, but while squinting suspiciously at her sidelong.

"I think a dragon must haven weakened it somehow," she explained. "Beaten it at it's own game, maybe."

She had expected more derision and scoffing from him, but his head dipped thoughtfully. "It's conceivable, but unlikely."

"Because of the tricks it can play?"

"Yes. I can't deny the possibility, but if such a thing happened it's much more likely to have been dumb luck rather than intent."

Telos rubbed again at her arms. She wasn't sure she agreed, luck was so fickle, and in the face of such temptation? Her people had been lucky with Hitth, but not lucky enough to stumble on a way to take away its power. Ultimately, the creature had rules, and it had to abide by them. Which meant it could be played at its own game.

Hitth needed the request of an outside party to open a door. It was a form of permission that allowed it into other worlds. If threatened, it could force a new door open without a request--as it had with Arcanus--but it could never force the choice. That had to take some kind of toll, but nothing Telos was willing to build any plans on.

While Hitth could not force the choice, it could whittle at a target's will. By trapping them within their heart's desire, waving that perfect image before them in the hope they would break down. He could keep them in the dark place in between worlds, without sound or light or sensation, until their minds couldn't handle the impenetrable nothingness and they begged to be released.

Hitth could taunt and tempt and present very convincing paths back home that were not quite the right one, which was perhaps its most dangerous trick. 'Home' was all at once a nebulous concept and a very personal and consistent place. Telos could recognize her room, but how many other version of her had the exact same room for the exact same reasons her looked the way it did?

But Hitth could never force you, and that was the fighting chance. A strong will, precise mind, and clear purpose would never fall prey to its games. But Telos needed more than that. Someone it couldn't tempt and couldn't eat was sure to exist in Aphaster, of that she was certain--and quietly proud her people had proved to be such elusive meals. What they really needed was someone with a deep understanding of the rules. And something more, some bane or poisonous thought or a nature that was simply antithetical to Hitth's.  

Even more, they needed a goal in mind, and there was so much that didn't add up.

"Why does Hitth grow stronger from opening doors to other realities?” she interrogated. “Why bother eating dragons at all if the same ones can come back and give it even more power that way? Is it really so simple as it needing fuel for the process?” She halted her onslaught and shook her head. “No, I can't believe that. Too many of my people visited the monster without being devoured, it should have died of starvation."

Renat shifted on his haunches, inching slightly away from her. "Chosen do not know the answer to this question. It sounds like you plan to fight the creature, but that is foolish. I will imprison it."

"I don't plan to be unprepared if you fail," she said, too distracted to note the way he bristled at the seeming jab at his competence. Her eyes were on the horizon, dour with grim exhaustion that had nothing to do with the long night. "Even if it means I need to bargain with my kin."

"So you would turn to the House?” His bristled fur rose into a standing mane, and he loomed over her, Beastealcian forgotten.  By the memory of the northern ice, woman, your kin do nothing but make abominations in secret where you think the gods can't see! What makes you think one will be able to bring another to heel?"

Telos' jaw tightened. She met Renat's eyes, and for just a moment, she let the weight of five generations of memories show on her face. Every laugh and cry and broken heart and elated discovery, all the contextual understanding of each of the dragons who had lived the experiences and the thoughts and reflections on those experiences of dragons who came after and got to examine those past experiences both as the insider and the outsider.  She let show the struggle of each ego in its own time, and how the weight of each new ego built into a pressure that either made dust or diamonds of each new generation of inheritors.  Until she was sure he understood that she lived with that pressure and more constantly. 

Until she was sure they had come to an understanding that she was a diamond among diamonds.

"We have heard that and everything like it all before, Chosen Renat. Save your breath." With a graceful smile, she let it all go, and left him alone with that last of the rising mists.

[labeteenmoi]

Alpha  II  part 4

Read part 1, part 2 and part 3 and Part 5 and part 6

Pairing : Donald Pierce x invented female character

Warning : none, I think, or maybe a slight sexual mention

Summary : People can be sooo complicated sometimes...

Tags : for @prettieparker86, @lainey-lane, @crazyfreckledginger, @star-girl-pryde, the Donnie addicts ;)

Note : good news for you (if you like it so far), this is still NOT the last part! It would have been too long of a post otherwise. I'm starting to wonder if I really want to finish this story...

What a strange feeling, like no other felt before. Her flesh burns and vibrates, trying to reproduce the same sensation as when Pierce penetrated it. It feels unsatisfied, hungry, longing for more of him. She would have loved to freeze that moment forever, with him so close lying on her, in her, feeling his heart beat against her back, his sweaty skin almost merging with hers in that quiet embrace. But that was without counting with his messed up mind, his torn feelings toward what she is. That would have been perfect without the bitter taste in her mouth and the sudden void in her chest as Pierce pulls out of her and ruins it all, not having a second thought before opening his mouth. Couldn't he just imagine one second that her body had never desired anyone before him? Even she didn't know, even less hoped, that it could happen to her. She thought she could bear again his apparent insensitiveness and keep on trying to open his eyes, in that weird and violent way that seemed to suit them from the beginning. But her heart had been hurt more than she expected and the words "he will never accept you" wouldn't stop harassing her brains, making her vulnerable and weak not knowing how to handle all that mess in her head, making her angry. "Fucking asshole!" she spits, enraged, pushing him back with a furious kick on his chest. Pierce falls down, his chest painful from the still fresh wounds her claws had caused, that her hit makes bleed again. She gets on her feet and flees outside, not letting him a chance to figure out a trick to retain her again.

Speechless and kind of dizzy, Pierce ignores the pain while trying to understand what had just happened. He messed up, that's his obvious conclusion, but he's not sure when. In any case he cannot let her escape; too many things are at stake and not only from a professional point of view. But that's a reflection he quickly chases from his thoughts as he dresses in a hurry and grabs his flashlight from the ground to go after her.

The light provided by the torch inside the den was already not that much, but outside it is almost useless compared to the deep darkness of the forest around him. Too late to think it through, with her speed she could be out of reach by that time and only an intuition puts him on her path, as some owls seem to be disturbed by something a few meters away on his left. His eyes progressively get used to the darkness even though they can't see in the dim light as much as hers. The moon still provides enough clarity for him to avoid obstacles while running toward the hoots. Running fast between the trees, trying to not stumble on every root he crosses, the owls seem to never be closer, like he's running without going forward, until he sees something move ahead of him, a furtive clear silhouette. He thinks it's her in that once white medical blouse, he yells "WAIT!" but it won't stop, disappearing again in the shadows. If he was like her, he would have felt all the eyes of the forest on him, scrutinizing him as his breath gets panting and hoarse and his lungs start to burn. He slows down; the silhouette is nowhere to be seen. If he was like her he would have known he should not stop there, he would have felt his hairs stand on his skin at the danger approaching, at the glowing eyes already surrounding him. But all he hears is his heart pounding strongly inside his ears and his noisy breaths that he tries to calm down. As he bends, with his hands on his knees, his head down, cursing himself and cursing her, a slight growl catches his attention. He raises his head, searching for the source of the sound in the dark all around him. She growls too, he recalls how she did when they met. But she has only two eyes and what he sees are many more, all around him. The growl approaches, soon multiplying, until he finally distinguishes the animals producing it. Far from the appealing silhouette his beast has, they are as tense and as intimidating as she can be; the wolves. A whole pack, at least eight of them, grey and black, slowly getting closer, their head low and their sharp fangs in their jaws clenched in a ferocious grimace. "No need to panic", Pierce thinks, until he searches on his belt for his gun which isn't there, forgotten in the den. "Fuck" he swears, and cautiously starts to back off with his hands raised in front of him and a cold shiver in the back of his head. The predators step closer again, their growls louder, he hears them also behind him and searches desperately for a way out in the dark spaces of the vegetation when a rustling behind him attracts the attention of the wolves, interrupting their aggressive vocals. "Run", Pierce recognizes the voice of the beast and turns around to see her emerge from the shadows. He sighs in relief louder than he intended to. "Baby, I..." "Run!" she interrupts him with a harder voice. Pierce freezes in disbelief, not understanding the tension he perceives in the beast attitude, is it fear he sees in her eyes? The wolf he saw first coming at him suddenly passes him by like he wasn't there and ferociously growls while jumping at her. She dodges it from a series of trills on the side.

"Hurry" she whispers in a breath, her eyes glowing like the wolves' but they are not threatening, they are imploring Pierce before she starts to run away. The whole pack moves as one and follows her, barking from rage and excitement, leaving Pierce astonished where he stands. A few seconds was all he needed to regain his spirits, deciding what to do and find his way back to the den. He never thought it was possible but he did run faster than before, hurrying, like he thinks she asked him to do, hoping he would find her again and not too late. He couldn't stop thinking about her, how she had caught the wolves’ attention so easily and wondering why. And the way she had looked at him, her precise moves weren't made out of fear, not for herself at least. By the time Pierce finds her, dawn is rising and bringing the fog with it, resting on the green carpet of the woods before the sun gets to dry it. The beast is among it, her body lying on the side as if asleep, her short black hair denoting in the soft colors of the landscape. He hesitates for a second, holding his breath, he knows he would care if she's dead and that's not of his liking. On another hand she has proven to be full of surprises so he finally approaches, watching her back for any breathing movement, intensively listening for any moan of pain. He's upon her when he finally sees her back rise slightly, he then allows himself to breathe too. Crouching next to her, Pierce reaches for her back but stops short when she jerks. Taking back his hand, he decides to break the silence instead. "What was that?  I thought you were one of them" he chuckles slightly. After seconds that seemed to stretch indefinitely, he hears her mumble with a blank voice  : "I'm not like them, I'm not like you... I'm alone" Pierce feels relief at hearing her speak but she hadn't still moved, he starts wondering if she's seriously wounded but the only noticeable thing is the reddish growing stain on the side of her already dirty blouse. "You're bleeding..." He tries to touch her but she harshly shouts, shaking her back "don't touch me! " "Easy, baby!" he says, raising his hands. But she does not react any further, staying still on the ground, looking weak somehow, a surprisingly unpleasant sight for him, he doesn't really know how to undo that feeling in a way he wouldn't feel awkward about. "Yeah, well... Time is up baby, Rice should be coming with my guys in a few hours so you might wanna get a little clean..." he launches, trying to sound provocative. "I don't care" she interrupts him in the same low and monochord voice. That's not what he expected. He knows she has a temper and enough tenacity in her to not give up so easily. Somehow he hopes so, that's what he wants from her or she may never survive the tests at Transingen. But that's as far as he pushes his thoughts, refusing to further acknowledge their strange bond, denying the true reasons he's not just roughly tying her up and taking her to Rice. She's just a mutant after all. "Are you gonna cry for a few wounds, mutie? " he starts to shout. Still no reaction. He's getting confused now, crouched next to her back, an ounce of guilt tickling the back of his mind. "Fuck," he heavily sighs, running his hand through his blond hair, "I didn't know you were..., I... Didn't mean to hurt you..." "You think I'm hurt?" she cuts with a hint of nervousness in the voice. She finally raises her head, straightening her bust, resting on her hands and turning to him. She has bruises on her face; her hair is a mess with dried blood and dirt in it, she has nasty bites on her arms and a considerable laceration on her stomach bleeding through her torn blouse.

She addresses him with a furious gaze:  "You think I give a shit you made me bleed?" she says, aggressively raising her voice. "You think you hurt me when you laid your hands on me? Hell, I craved for it! You could even kill me with your own hands I would fucking love it the same, that's how fucked up you got me!" "You shut up woman!" Pierce suddenly yells with an annoyed look, making her silent and astonished; had he just called her woman? He nods his head and heavily sighs, trying hard to push away the pressing need to hug her. "Damn you..." he blows, just before grabbing the back of her neck and pressing his lips on hers in an avid kiss.

[robbmywolf]

Wolf on a Leash

Part Two to this Part One!

OMG I got such positive feedback from the first part! I DID NOT EXPECT THIS. You guys spoil me tbh, thank you for all your kindness and support xxx

Summary: The feuding continues. Robb and Y/n manage not to get along even worse than they did before, but Ned’s resolve prevails. Starks are stubborn and breaking their will is near impossible. 

Tags: THE FIRST OF THE HATE FLIRTING, s l o w b u r n, humor duh, AnGsT aLeRt, Stark family feels, unresolved jealous feelings

Tagged Lovelies: @im-smad, @salliebley, @reader-fics, @a-girl-who-loves-disney (lemme know if you want to be tagged xx) 

{okay woah btw this is a LOT longer than the first part hehe sorry}

Chapter 2

“He’s mine to hate and hurt and do with as I please, no one else’s,” You hear yourself hissing at Lady Evangeline, shoving your face forward and closing in on her personal space despite the frantic beating of her delicate fan to keep you at bay. 

Her intimidated expression of growing fear (of you, you realize with a twisted satisfaction) is not what pulls you from your sudden flash of gripping fury. 

It’s actually the silence beside you that shakes you free of it. Robb is silent. That never happens, Robb always has something to say in retaliation to literally any words that leave your mouth whether they pertain to him or not. You pull your face back only enough to swing your blazing gaze on Robb, whose expression holds the shape of an emotion you haven’t seen on him before. 

Earlier that Month -- The morning after your first night chained together

You wake yourself by accidentally biting your tongue.

You’re shivering so harshly on the floor beside Robb’s bed you worry for second when you can’t move your toes. Grey Wind is still beside you, a life-line of warmth, a furnace that you find yourself clutched around as much as possible. Your nose is pressed into the thick winter coat at his neck trying to hide your face from the merciless nipping cold patiently numbing bit by bit of your flesh. 

How you managed to get any semblance of rest in your current conditions simply boggles your freshly woken mind, your thoughts slushing around disoriented in your mind before you remember the catastrophic events of yesterday. Your eyes fly open and whip to land on your shackled wrist wrenched hanging at an unnatural position. 

Your stomach drops and for a moment you think you’re going to be sick when you realize why you are on the floor and who is in the bed above you. Instead of vomiting you tug on Robb’s hand gently so not to wake him, and pull your own hand down to your body. He gives no resistance still asleep and quite -- surprisingly -- pliant. His big hand falls over the edge of the bed and quickly you squirm your shackled hand under Grey Wind’s belly as he lays on it, hoping to regain feeling in the appendage that’s frozen solid. The wolf jumps mildly at the sharp sting of cold but only gives a snort before settling again, fully awake but happy to rest beside you. When your hand still feels like a block ice carved straight from the Great Wall after a full five minutes, you huff sleepily and try to think of other ways to warm yourself up. 

All without waking Robb, of course. 

You want some peace and time to yourself, your face naked of the mask you always put on when he looks upon you. Basking in this relief you are careful not to disturb his own shackled wrist too much and mute the little clinks of metal as best as you can. 

Finally you settle in a position that has you facing the bed, shivering escalating by the second, Robb’s limp hand hanging only a foot from your face that’s going numb like the rest of your body. The hand is pink with fresh warmth from being under the many layers of Robb’s bedding, fingers long and palm wide and welcoming. The texture of his sword-callouses are revealed through curious strips of light tiptoeing down from the windows. You would have reached out to touch it, maybe hold on to it to steal some of its heat, but you honestly couldn’t feel your hand so the appendage stayed unthawed at your side.

Grey Wind gives a small whine of concern as he noses at your neck, the wet cold of it making you flinch, as the wolf takes note of your unhealthy condition. Robb stirs and gives a sleepy huff. You hold still hoping he doesn’t wake just yet. Despite you being about to black out from the cold stealing feeling from every part of your body, you desired the alone time more. 

You never did have a knack for self preservation. 

An old fear-warped memory of lying in a similar cradle of chill and ice wipes across the backs of your eyes you didn’t remember closing. A white forest canopy blinds you as you lay in the snow feeling your body descending into stages of a slow death. You felt your body sinking deeper and deeper into the glacial embrace of the earth around you accepting your body into its depths. 

Robb wakes suddenly, yanked into consciousness from the bowels of sleep like a fish on a line. He groans and shuts his eyes against the unforgiving winter morning light pouring through the barely curtained windows. There’s a slight chattering noise that comes into his notice  -- teeth clanking together -- and Grey Wind is whining loudly. 

“Hush now,” Robb gravels grumpily in his sleep-strained voice at Grey Wind as he makes to turn over, but is stopped at a sharp pull on his left wrist. “What the --,”

Robb whips bleary-eyed around at the feel of rude metal clutching at his wrist. He goes into momentary panic then settles when he remembers yesterday but then panics again when he spots you on the floor. Your skin is that same grey-blue and an eerie sense of deja-vu smacks him across the face and leaves his chest feeling hollow and rickety. 

Grey Wind is giving him a threatening wolf glare. 

“Gods!” Robb exclaims under his breath as he entangles his legs from the nest of warmth on the bed and hauls you up. You’re dead weight, head lolling and eyes sealed shut. 

Robb’s concern spikes considerably at this as he wrenches you up to the bed and hastily tucks you under the blankets, and comforters, and furs. Gods he left you one fur to sleep under. A potent self-disgust boils and gurgles in Robb’s gut as he continues frantically trying to warm you up. 

You had stopped shivering. That wasn’t good. 

Ice sickness was common in the North; you shiver, then start to lose feeling in your extremeties, then it creeps to claim more and more of you until you lose conciousness, then you stop shivering, then you....

Robb refused to even think the last step. With mounting panic he unwraps you quickly and strips you of your clothing. He doesn’t even feel guilt at seeing your naked body without your permission because this is life and de -- no. He will not even think it. Once your body is fully exposed he fiercely strips himself of his own clothes and unreservedly clutches you to him in a desperate attempt to lend you his heat knowing this is the most efficient way to regulate your body temperature. Your skin is nothing short of ice, freezing to touch and almost just as hard. Hoisting you up bridal style, he snags as many furs and quilts he can get his hands on and waddles over to the low burning fireplace in his room. Robb quickly revives the flames, coaxing them to roar tall and hot, and holds you against him while wrapping the both of you in the bedding before the licking heat of the new fire. 

Robb shakes despite the fact that he’s sweating as your heavy head rests back against his collarbone, your back to his front, body limp between his legs and still impossibly cold. It is almost like your skin is refusing his warmth. 

“Just take it! Stop being so stubborn and just fucking take it!” Robb demands of you as his fears take turns stabbing at the muscle of his heart. 

He begins to rock your bodies back and forth in a subconscious effort to calm himself. His full fledged panic blocks any and all intimate thoughts that would have run through Robb’s brain any other time he might of had a woman naked between his legs and pressed flush to his chest. 

But this is Y/n and she’s dy--

Grey Wind interrupts Robb’s train of thought by curling up to both of their forms and licking warm stripes up Robb’s cheeks. It takes the young Stark a second to realize he is, in fact, crying. 

Robb assigns the reasons behind this to the crazed delirium of being thrown into panic and trauma directly from sleep. Because without a doubt he still despises Y/n even as he clutches her closer to him, the full passion of his hatred still so tangible and easily accessed even now. He shoos Grey Wind away from his face, wiping the snot and tears on his shoulder so he won’t have to sniffle like a sobbing child, and regains a shred of his composure. 

Y/n twitches promisingly in his arms and he feels her chest heave a big refreshing sigh, restarting her system. 

She will be fine.

His skin tingles like hot coals where it touches her’s and he can’t tell if the force between them is shoving them apart or yanking them closer together. This battle keeps him where he is.

When you eventually wake Robb gets a marvelous deck to the face the second you muster enough strength to swing the weight of your arm. 

He doesn’t ever tell you this, but you bruised his jaw so badly it hurt to talk and eat and breathe for weeks.

Ned refused to unchain you.

Robb sleeps willingly on the floor of your chambers now.

Middle of the Month - a week or so after that first morning

It’s not often Winterfell hosts guests in the middle of winter. But House Cerwyn has come to stay at Winterfell for a seemingly innocent visit. The party came through the recently shoveled court yard on a gentler winter morning. Ned received the head of the family Cley Cerwyn with loud, proud Northern words of greeting and jovial claps on the back. 

The point of this visit baffled the Stark siblings while Ned and Catelyn seemed almost eager, giddy to host the Cerwyns. It didn’t take long to work out the hidden intention though. The day after the Cerwyns’ arrival, introductions were made as the Stark family officially received them in the large banquet hall. 

Catelyn had put up quite a fuss about you being chained to Robb for the introductions but Ned kept steady to his word and left the two of you shackled. When Ned offered the visitors an explanation as to why his eldest son was chained to you, Cley had burst out laughing followed by companionable chuckles from the rest of the family. 

Catelyn was still bitter but didn’t bring the issue up again until later that week. 

Robb and you were currently walking across the snowy cart yard heading towards the stables. One of your favorite mares is giving birth and you wanted to watch or maybe help deliver the foal if Robb would be willing (which he wasn’t when you originally asked to attend such an event). But after much arguing, some haughty threats, and a quick fist fight, you convinced him to at least let you observe. 

Lady Evangeline Cerwyn strolls arm in arm with Sansa, both ladies twirling their delicate winter parasols on their shoulders as they walk around the bustling yard. It’s midday and the snow coming down in generously light and dainty. The beautiful eldest daughter of House Cerwyn catches Robb’s eye. 

He noticed Evangeline’s beauty immediately when they were formally introduced, she just had that easy natural beauty about her that men went to war over. She was the perfect gentle-woman in every way a respectable noble lady such as herself should be. 

In effect, she is everything you are not. 

Your beauty is like a diamond that has yet to be polished from its cage of sharp black granite. It hides itself beneath your blunt personality and the gruff-n-tough way you hold yourself. You carry yourself more like a soldier, an equal to any man rather than a lady. Plus you were not from noble birth, in fact you didn’t come from any family at all. You are an orphan. 

You realize as you feel Robb tugging you towards her and Sansa, away from the stables drawn to her like a moth to a flame, that you’ve never had a last name. 

It makes you impossibly sad for some reason, muting any protests you might have said and dampening any fight you might have put up as Robb comes to stop in from of the two halted ladies and gives a graceful courteous bow. 

“Ladies,” Robb says in that deep voice he uses when he’s trying to be impressive and seem older. 

You don’t even bother trying to hold back your eyes as they roll generously in your sockets. You cock your hip and set your weight in it stubbornly, jutting it out further as you grumpily place your hands on your hips calling attention to the shackles between binding you together. Sansa squints at you in a coded warning. She must like Evangeline although its not hard to see why, she’s everything Sansa aims to be -- minus the being married part.

Your mouth quirks a little and suddenly you know exactly why the Cerwyns have come to Winterfell. 

You fight the urge to drag Robb away kicking and screaming to the stables, not knowing where such an immature childish impulse came from. Shaking it off you hone in on the conversation that’s been going on in your mental absence. Robb is charmingly giving a more in depth, quite frankly biased explanation as to why you both are shackled together as Evangeline blinks up at him under a swath of thick pretty eyelashes. 

“ -- took her in and she’s been a nuisance ever since. You see my Father has this very odd sense of humor as most of us Northerners do, and thought that if he chained us together she might learn a few manners!” 

You distinctly remember Ned saying this should teach Robb a few manners and some humility but you only grumble unintelligible sounds of disagreement under your breath.

Evangeline giggles then at Robb’s humor that was made at your expense, the sound of it chiming like tinkling glass bells in the wind. Her luscious hair falls around the frame of her face forming this vignette around a vision of grace. A lovely addictive smile plays at her lips, rewarding Robb for his efforts and inviting him to try some more. 

You refrain from turning to face Robb wanting nothing more than to carefully analyze his reaction to this blatant beauty flirting with him, but you know you couldn’t do that without being noticed. Confused silence yawns in your heart when you wonder why you even care what he’s feeling. 

There are only some many petty urges you can strangle back when it comes to Robb, and right now, in the presence of a flirting Evangeline -- the perfect wife chosen for Robb by his parents -- they are practically impossible to restrain.

“He takes longer to do his hair than I do.” You blurt in a vomit of words out of a numb mouth, the statement ridiculously random and having nothing to do with the conversation.   

The memory of standing impatiently beside Robb this morning as took his sweet time arranging his deep mahogany curls atop his head still fresh in your mind. You’re pretty sure he does it to piss you off but you hoped the little tid-bit would serve to embarrass him. Because it’s unmanly to groom yourself too long right? 

You want to show her how close you are to him, a small curious voice curls up from the black depths of the your mind that you never venture into, a sign that says ‘DO NOT ENTER, GO BACK’ placed at the threshold. 

Everyone pauses then looks to you as the weirdness of what you just said settles in the air like an echo of a bass bell. At this point you don’t even have the decency to be embarrassed, you just are glad Robb’s not looking at the Cerwyn vixen anymore. 

The pretty noble-lady in question looks you over for the first time even though you’ve been standing there for more than ten minutes. Blatant and purposefully not hidden disgust colors her lovely features. You fight the urge to curl into yourself and hide behind your own shadow at the unexpected sharpness of her gaze. Sansa’s eyebrows knit together and her eyes flash at you in more warning not to embarrass her any further in front of her respectable family-friend. 

“Well I can see that.” Evangeline eventually breaks the silence, retaining a cruel lightness to her tone that lets everyone know who is higher on the food chain. “Robby’s hair looks dashing fit for the young noble lord that he is,” She pauses to send Robb a gorgeous half smile at the compliment, batting her eyelashes at him once before returning her eyes back to you in full force, judgment and all, “But as for you and your hair I dare say it is not quite up to par.”

Robb hides his snicker poorly as your face falls a little in a moment of caught off guard insult, but you easily regain your composure. Really? She was insulting the state of your hair? It seems you have grossly over-estimated her ability to dismantle someone. Her rank was her only weapon against you. Getting insulted by her was like the equivalent of Evangeline throwing one of her handkerchiefs at you. 

Evangeline easily out ranked you, like by leagues, therefore you knew you could never publicly slander her back and get away with it like how she just did to you. You grit your teeth knowing your presence before her is only tolerated because you’re literally shackled to the heir to Winterfell. 

“I apologize for the ugly mark I’ve dashed across your day, maybe I should retire so as to not further disturb your peace.” You respond in easily registered mocking tone, ticking your head to the side like a bird of prey and giving her a chilly threatening smile (the mechanics of which you learned from Catelyn Stark).

“Oh! How kind of you to go to such measures to rid me of your ill-timed presence.” Evangeline plays back with a smug smirk on her face, like she just dropped a bombshell.

You pity her if that’s the best she can do. You yourself know you could bring her down but you know she’s not worth the effort, it’d be too easy. But you get good practice out of it none the less.

Sansa observes Evangeline every twitch and hangs onto her every word like she’s witnessing something sacred. The young red head quickly learns (to her extreme disappointment, ‘how dare you be better at something than Evangeline’) though that even though Evangeline has the higher status, your verbal sparing skills greatly out due Evangeline's. Robb happily watches, completely entertained, as you two continue to exchange icy phrases having to sometimes think hard to keep up with the coded insults.

You both eventually end with overly articulated flourishing sentences, even Sansa looked fed up at this point, and you parted ways. You fully expected for Robb to put up a fight and want to stay with Evangeline (in fact you were bracing yourself for it), but he easily followed you as you turned sharply and trudged away. He had only shouted a polite farewell to a pouting Evangeline. 

“What was all that about?” Robb questions in a tone you’d never heard him use before. Okay, never heard him use with you. “Was that how women fight over men? Did you two fight over me?” He has a bounce to his step you noticed and when you looked up at his face he was smiling. 

Instinctually you want to point that he’s smiling and somehow twist it into an insult or thing to hold over his head, but at the last minute your throat clogs up and blocks the habit from controlling your tongue. Instead you gulp thickly as you expertly run your eyes over his face, getting hit with how handsome Robb is. You don’t notice so much but for some reason its smacking you in the face now. 

His eyes are bright, similar to how they are when he’s angry but its a different kind of lightness. It’s carefree. You watch how his face molds around his smile thats big and generous and inviting, drawing you in and welcoming you to share in his happiness. 

With a gallant amount of effort you get a shaky grip on your emotional reigns and roll your eyes before smacking him upside the head sharply. Robb exclaimed a surprised ‘Ow!’ but gave no more protest other than rubbing the back of his as you began talking.

“No you idiot, we weren’t fighting over you. What we were doing was determining who was more powerful. It’s how women size each other up.” You explain in the most elementary way possible as you both walk on, some sort of synced autopilot taking you both towards the stables. 

(You had not noticed until now how in-tune you both had become. Robb and you already were highly intelligent of the others emotional inner workings do to you both manipulating each other all the time, but now that awareness has grown to something more powerful than you realized. You had entire conversations without needing to speak, made decisions based on the other’s body language. It was so overwhelming and so out of either of your control, that you pretended it wasn’t happening.)

��More powerful?” Robb asks with a naughty curl to his smile that made your breath catch in your throat, his happy mood determined to prevail the fall of his pride. He continues to practically trot at your side; you tell yourself its annoying.

“Yes like, oh how can I explain this to your primal male brain?” You sigh dramatically as you squint up at the grey sky while easily dodging his fist that was aimed for your shoulder, “It’s like a ‘Who Has the Bigger Cock’ contest.”

When you look back down from the sky, blinking some of the water out your eyes since the clouds made it too bright to stare at for long, to catch Robb’s gaze you find his eyes wide. His mouth had dropped out of its full grin to hang open in a mock-scandalized ‘O’, but the corners of his lips were still suspiciously curved up giving him away. 

“Did you just say–,”

“Cock? Yes, men and prostitutes don’t own the word. Cock. There I said it again.” You challenge as you playfully shove him away from you (where did that urge come from?), him breathing out a strange noise through his nose that sounded almost like a laugh as he regains his step and shoves you back. 

Robb looks fascinated at the fact that you said a dirty word when you both recover your gaits beside one another and reconnect gazes. You smirk at him as a witty thought pops into your head and slips off your tongue.

“Lady ‘Your Hair Isn’t Up To Par’ wouldn’t be caught dead saying the word cock.” You tease as you jut your chin up at the jab. A foreign but yet oddly addictive energy zings between you two then, the atmosphere around you morphing and changing into something new -- something....exciting.

Robb’s cobalt irises shake with mischief and flash at you, except this time its not anger its something else.

“I bet I could make her say it.” 

You gasp, trying to hide your scandalized grin, and go to smack him upside the head again but Robb unfortunately learned from last time and ducks away in time. With his stupidly fast reflexes he snatches your offending shackle-free wrist and chucks a triumphant cocky smirk at you over the horizon of your fingers.

“Let go of me Curly.” You grunt playfully as you wrench your wrist out of his grip and start up your walking pace again. The nickname coming easy and out of the blue.

“Then don’t hit me Stray.” Robb throws right back at you and this time the chain doesn’t need to yank him to fall into step beside you, he does it himself.  

When you roll your eyes at him as you always do, there isn’t a single hint of the usual frustration or anger or bitterness that accompanies the gesture. What appears in replacement is a fuzzy and weird and warm feeling that sits esoterically on the throne of your heart. You shy away from figuring out what it is and what it means, scared for some reason. 

You both watch the foal be born. It’s a young stallion. With a murky expression on his face Robb tells the stable master to name it Curly.

End of the Month - current day

There had been a small ball that had been thrown in the Cerwyns’ honor (and the anticipated unannounced union of their houses, you had thought bitterly though you did not want to know this aggravated you so much). It was just the two families who were in attendance, but there was music and dancing in the banquet hall after a grand meal. Catelyn unlocked Robb from you for the entire evening.

It was strange to not have his presence always at your right. It was almost akin to losing a limb -- a weird, frustratingly uncomfortable hollowness. You kept torturing yourself with questions you couldn’t answer; like if Robb felt the same way, felt this emptiness that plagued you.

As expected you were not allowed at the festivities, and instead spent the evening fencing with Jon out in the chilly court yard. Jon noticed how you moved like you had a limp, an illusion that something was missing -- an intangible feeling that you were off-kilter -- but he already knew the reason. Jon knew you better than you knew yourself honestly, but he wouldn’t ever dream of telling you that. You might not be a Stark, but you had the temper of one.

It wasn’t until Ned called you inside when everything was dying down and people were retiring to their chambers so he could lock you and Robb back up, that things took a sharp fucking turn to the left. Robb had appeared in the hallway leading to the court yard you had just in from -- with Evangeline on his arm. They were chatting away, easily leaning in towards each other like a magnet was coaxing them closer. They really were a perfect match. For some reason the thought made your stomach twist, then plunge into your gut.

As Robb, without looking or paying any attention to no one other than Evangeline, offered his wrist to his Father and Ned gently took yours, something in you died. A small tragedy that was being mourned by your soul as it wept in the flesh cage of your body. You ignored this and kept your eyes down, following Ned’s fingers as they deftly moved around your wrist and Robb’s, familiar with the lock and key by now.

Ned noticed how quiet you were and concern seeped into the lightness of the evening. He knew better than to ask a young woman if she was ‘okay’ and let it be. When he announced his departure with nothing more than a polite Stark Grunt, you immediately wanted him to stay.

Don’t leave me with them! Your eyes pleaded, by you kept them down so Ned couldn’t read them and fufill your wishes.

When Ned was gone you endured the horrific torture of having to wait for Robb and Evangeline to bid each other good night. Evangeline was prolonging things on purpose, I mean you couldn’t blame her. What really struck home for you though was the smile Robb was giving her. He never looks at you that way (not that you ever tried to earn it).

“He’s mine to hate and hurt and to do with as I please, no one else’s,” You hear yourself hissing at Lady Evangeline, high on this powerful strange emotion coursing through your veins and letting instinct carry your actions. 

You shove yourself in between the two with no warning making them unlink arms. With mounting chargin you close in on her personal space despite the frantic beating of her delicate party fan to keep you at bay. Her intimidated expression of growing fear (of you, you realize with a twisted satisfaction) is not what pulls you from your sudden fever of gripping fury. It’s actually the silence beside you that shakes you free of it. 

Robb is silent. 

That never happens, Robb always has something to say in retaliation to literally any words that ever leave your mouth whether they pertain to him or not. You pull your face back only enough to swing your blazing gaze on Robb, whose expression holds the shape of an emotion you haven’t seen on him before.

This sets a flock of starving crows into a madden flurry in your stomach, their sharp beaks plucking at your insides and eating you alive. Because you know all of Robb’s faces; Every. Single. One. Having memorized the intimate paths to take in order to unlock his different emotional states, these maps of mind, heart, and soul you’ve made well trodden over the years, learning him from the inside out to get the best reactions from him. You know how to manipulate him just as he well as he knows how to manipulate you.

But now, staring at him with the fire in your soul weaning a bit and twisting into a new foreign kind of burn, you don’t recognize him. Who is this? What’s that face? Your mental radars are setting off alarms in your head as you rush to figure out what in the name of the Seven is going through his head. You always know what Robb is thinking, usually you despised this talent (but also found it quite useful) but now could not for the life of you take advantage of it.

You didn’t even realize the gentle-lady Evangeline had scooted away and gratefully fled the bubble of tension, leaving Robb and you openly glaring -- or gawking -- at each other in the middle of the hallway. A tender winter breeze sneaks in from the closed door behind you, whistling lowly as it sweeps by and nips both of your noses in cosmic jest.

It dawns on you quite slowly.

But once your mind catches the thought, takes firm but gentle hold of it in its embrace making sure that it won’t slip away, do you start to unwrap the answer to the emotion on Robb’s face. Your soul holds its breath.

Agreement.

Pure, gilded, unrestrained agreement was what it was -- the feeling looks so raw and new on his features, like it shocked Robb so thoroughly he didn’t have the means to hide it. Enigmatic acceptance follows closely behind to color in the leftover untouched bits of canvas on Robb’s face, reigning free and wild to mix like drops of blood in water, swirling like whirlpools to full collected potency in the azure blue of his eyes.

His soul stares at you hard from behind matching cobalt windows, sizing you up and after a couple heart beats, cautiously waves invitingly at your own soul. You feel her press up curiously against the back of your eyes to analyze him back. The pressure in your eye sockets may have indeed been due to the presence of your soul, but the pressure was also do to the accompanying vengeful tears, anxious to be released having been pent up and barred from their grave of the outside world for so long.

The whiplash-like emotional shock that you are crying in front of Robb kickstarts in your body and your skin erupts in gooseflesh. Robb does nothing in response to seeing wetness in your eyes bulge then give as one tear sparkles poetically down your cheek, accept curving the center of his eyebrows up in clean concerned awe of you. You feel disconnected from your own limbs as they move you on their own accord, sprinting off somewhere as everything becomes overwhelming. 

Its too much. 

You feel like a wave is cresting in your chest and you’re not sure your heart will survive it washing over you. 

You’re so focused on running from yourself that you don’t even register that Robb’s being hauled along with you, the chain binding you both together.

Robb doesn’t know what to make of things. Too many emotions have torn through his heart tonight and he’s more than a little hesitant to break all, if any of them down. He’s more than a bit surprised when you drag him to his chambers (since they have been sleeping in yours since you almost froze to death). His mouth opens to make a comment but he thinks better of it and shuts up. 

He lets you lead, recognizing that you’re taking your day clothes off in the weird ballet you both have mastered over the past month. How you manage to get out of your day clothes one-handed baffles Robb every time with all the layers and skirts and corsets and shifts. You leave yourself in your plain white fabric shift and Robb strips down to his undershirt and matching underpants. 

Without a word you shock him once again and crawl down to the floor, settling on the thin fur carpet beside his bed, grabbing multiple quilts and furs and pillows down from the bed to make a small comfy nest. 

Robb again can’t find his voice so he wordlessly lays on the bed, letting his hand hang off for your comfort, and listens as you make a last few adjustments and settle. Right on cue Grey Wind noses in through the cracked open door, the heavy wood slightly uneven on its hinges, creaks back closed. He hops on the bed but stops when he sees its Robb, then hops back down to nestle into your nest with you. 

Robb sighs.

The room goes quiet. 

He hopes things go back to normal, whatever normal is, tomorrow.

Robb doesn’t get his “normal” back quite the way he expected. 

It’s the wee hours of the night and his mind never really shut down from all the craziness of the evening. His consciousness may be resting but his brain has refused to stop thinking. 

He dreams about vague shapes moving through grey snowy light, familiar intimate colors he recognizes blur and mix together trying to confuse him. He reaches for something, knowing that he wants whatever he’s reaching for but unsure as to what it is. This does not deter him. His dream-self sifts through these colors, wades through them hoping to spot that tell tale color even though he doesn’t know what color he’s looking for. 

You don’t dream at all. Your heart closed off the pathway that connects your mind to the secret unknown chambers of your heart, leaving only blackness to consume you. 

Suddenly, instead of darkness, pain consumes you and shoves you awake like a tub of ice water had been poured over your head as something heavy traps you to the ground, making it hard to breathe. For a moment you think the ice water is real and you hold your breath and try frantically kicking to the surface, working your legs and waving your arms around as best you could under the weight holding you down. 

Purple feathers explode in Robb’s dream as he lands on something soft thats writhing savagely underneath him, still searching for that One. Seven forsaken. Color. 

Disoriented you lurch and spaz under the weight on top of you when your breath starts to run out, tangling yourself in ropes of thick seaweed...or are those arms? A weird noise leaves your mouth, lips pressed to something unidentifiable. A softness brushes over your face and you can’t fucking see -- 

Whatever has cushioned Robb’s fall squirms under him like an angry shark, sharp pokes of bone jutting into his gut making more kaleidoscopes of color burst like fireworks behind his eyes. 

“Umph!” You grunt as you free your non-shackled hand from its anonymous captor and wave it around blindly trying to come to grips with what, exactly, is happening. You’re not sure if you’re still drowning or even in water.

A crisp smack! sounds in the room and a stinging sensation burns across Robb’s cheek. This jolts him out of his dream-world and plunges him head first into loud confusing reality. 

For some reason Robb yells on the rocketing fall back down to consciousnesses, 

“The feathers aren’t yours!”

You momentarily pause your struggle like you were struck dumb by lightening, before resuming your shoving when you feel more than hear the rumble of Robb’s familiar morning voice as his chest you find, is in fact -- impossibly -- pressed flush to yours. 

His voice is an anchor and now you know for sure you aren’t underwater. 

“What, Robb?! How -- get OFF!” You shriek in the scattered anarchic chaos of the darkness, your voice cracking from a tight throat and words coming out a jumble of nonsense due to your sleep-lazy tongue. “You great oaf! Your chest -- OW! Robb that’s my breast, get your filthy hands --,” 

You grunt in pain as his head knocks hard against your skull when he suddenly jerks on top of you, and a slight ringing sounds in your ears. Honestly you can’t tell where your body starts and his begins as you both scramble to cradle your throbbing foreheads. Both your hands tangle on the way up causing more dismantled disorientation. 

Grey Wind sits neatly on his hind legs a safe distance from the mess, watching you both struggle, ears twitching, wondering in a wistful wolfy way what the heck his dumb humans are up to now. 

“Robb -- get, just move your, Gods, will you just get off!” You cry as Robb regains an idea of where he is what -- who you are. 

“Stray?” Robb gravels once his head stops spinning and the stinging sensation in his cheek roles into numbness. 

Robb stills over you and before he can carefully remove himself from you, you take his hesitation as stubbornness and knee him clean in the groin. Of course, if you were more awake, you would have realized that kneeing him in his family jewels would only delay his departure from your body, not hasten it. 

Naturally, Robb’s body hunches and curls down into your further as blinding white pain courses through him, groaning loudly in your ear.

You make a very embarrassing squeaky noise as you feel the chords of his muscle stretched across his body bunch and pull to collect in his abs as he crunches over, forehead grinding into the carpet beside your head, face squished up in blind agony against your neck. 

A small disconnected part of your mind notes the feel of resurrecting stubble on his angular cheeks as he presses against your sensitive skin. 

Rationally you know Robb isn’t doing this on purpose because you kinda set yourself up for this one, but the feeling of all that sinewy muscle working against the length of your body sets fires in your veins. Heat licks up your neck and stings in your cheeks. You have never been so grateful for pitch black in your entire life. 

You try to say something witty and sarcastic as Robb writhes on you in paralyzing pain that crawls like molasses through his system, but you find that you suddenly did not know any words. Language is a foreign concept to your brain as the weight of Robb on you churns your mind steadily to mush and makes your body go more pliant beneath him. 

You think you hear yourself slur something about beauty sleep but you’re not quite sure. 

It takes Robb a really long time to come back into his head after the pain in his groin lessens just enough to allow coherent thought to filter to through. It takes a Robb an even longer time to work out where all his limbs are. 

As limb locations start popping up, he slowly realizes why you are so still beneath him. His body is on fire with the ghost of your touch smothering him.

He mistakes your stillness and absence of words for disgust and horror instead of the current pile of fluff and goo you actually are. The darkness rolls it eyes but serves its purpose to confuse the two of you further, if that’s even possible. He immediately huffs an apology and scrambles awkwardly off you, wincing dramatically still in quite a bit of pain. You really dealt a punch. Once Robb is a safe distance from where he estimates your knees are, he speaks.

“Y/n?” He honest to Gods whispers like you’ll explode, or maybe injure him fatally this time.

You don’t respond as you stare wide eyed up at the ceiling you can’t see. After a moment you gulp and ask no one in particular, maybe the blackness above you,

“What the fuck?”

Robb chews over your words for a hot second, snorts, then collapses to the carpeted stone to lay down on his back beside you. The tension from earlier breaks like a dam. 

“You do realize I’m not going to be able to have children right?” 

Robb hears you roll your eyes at him in the darkness and receives a very unlady-like scoff, followed by a weak punch in the shoulder for his trouble.

“Men are such babies.” 

Robb smiles. 

Okay shit wow, sorry that was a lot longer than the first part! Let me know if you liked it or not if you want to :) I take requests xxx

[anavoliselenu]

Manwhore chapter 20

FOUR WEEKS

I’ve never been so hopeful as when I board the pristine glass elevator at the M4 corporate building. A handful of employees ride along with me, murmuring perfunctory greetings to each other and to me. I think my mouth must be on vacation because I can’t seem to force it to speak. But I smile in reply—my smile nervous, nervous but hopeful, definitely hopeful. My riding companions step out on their floors one by one until I’m alone, riding up to the executive floor on my own.

Toward him.

Toward the man I love.

My body is raging. My blood is pumping—my blood is storming—my thighs are shaking. My stomach feels filled with little earthquakes that just won’t quit, then they turn into a full-fledged roil when I hear the elevator ting at his floor.

Stepping out, I’m in corporate nirvana, surrounded by sleek chrome and pristine glass, marble and limestone floors. But I hardly have eyes for anything except the tall and imposing frosted glass doors at the far end of the room.

Framing those doors to each side is a pair of sleek designer desks, for a total of four.

Behind these desks are four women in identical black-and-white suits, sitting behind their gleaming dark-oak desks, working quietly behind their flat-screen computers.

One of them, the forty-year-old Catherine H. Ulysses—right hand of the man who owns every inch of this building—stops what she’s doing when she sees me. She arches her brow, then seems both tense and relieved as she lifts the receiver on her desk and murmurs my name into it.

I. Am. Not. Breathing.

But Catherine doesn’t miss a beat as she motions me toward the huge frosted doors—those intimidating doors—that lead into the lair of the most powerful man in Chicago.

The human being with the most powerful effect on me.

This is what I’ve been waiting for, for four weeks. This is what I wanted when I left a thousand messages on his phones and what I wanted when I wrote a thousand others that I left unsent. To see him.

For him to want to see me.

But as I force myself to step forward, I don’t even know if I’ll have the strength to stand before him and look him in the eye after what I did.

I’m wracked so hard with nervousness and anticipation and hope—yes hope, small but bright, even as I shake like a leaf.

Catherine holds the door open, and I struggle to hold my head high and walk into his office.

Two steps inside I hear the swoosh of the glass door shutting behind me and my systems halt at the familiar sight of the most beautiful office I’ve ever been in.

His office is all vast marble and chrome, twelve-foot ceilings, and endless floor-to-ceiling windows.

And there he is. The center of its axis. The center of my world.

He’s pacing by the window, speaking into a headset in a low, low voice—the kind he uses when he’s pissed. All I can make out are the words have to be dead to let her fall into his clutches . . .

He hangs up, and as if he feels me in the room, he turns his head. His eyes flare when he sees me. His green eyes.

His achingly familiar, beautiful green eyes.

He inhales, very slowly, his chest expanding, his hands curling a little at his sides as he looks at me.

I look back at him.

Justin Kyle Preston Logan Justin.

I just walked into the eye of the most powerful storm of my life. No. Not a storm. A hurricane.

Four weeks, I haven’t seen him. And he still looks exactly as I remember. Larger than life, and more irresistible than ever.

His striking face is perfectly shaven today, and his sensual lips look so achingly full I can almost feel them against mine. Six feet-plus of perfectly controlled male power stands before me, in a perfect black suit and a killer tie. He’s the very devil in Armani; strong-boned, square-jawed, gleaming dark hair and those penetrating eyes.

He’s got the best eyes.

They twinkle mercilessly when he teases me, and when he doesn’t tease me, they’re mysterious and unreadable, assessing and intelligent, keeping me guessing about his thoughts.

But I had forgotten how cold those eyes used to be. Green arctic ice looks back at me now. Every fleck of ice in those eyes gleaming like diamond shards.

He clenches his jaw and tosses the headset aside.

He looks as approachable as a wall, his shoulders stretching his white shirt, which clings to his skin like a groupie. But I know he’s not a wall; I’ve never wanted to throw myself at a wall like this.

He’s walking toward me. Every step he takes makes my heart pound as he moves with that quiet and confident own-the-world stride of his.

He stops a few feet away and shoves his hands into his pants pockets; and he seems so big all of a sudden, and he smells so utterly good. I drop my eyes to his tie as the little candle of hope I walked in with starts to flicker with doubt.

“Justin . . .” I begin.

“Justin is fine,” he says quietly.

I catch my breath at his words.

I wait for him to say something—to tell me how much I suck—and ache when he doesn’t. Instead I hear a voice from the door.

“Mr. Justin,” Catherine announces, “Stanford Merrick’s here.”

“Thank you.” I hear Justin’s quietly powerful voice and a tremor rolls unexpectedly down my spine.

I stare down at the shiny marble floor, embarrassed. My shoes; I wore something I thought would make me look pretty. God, I don’t think he’s noticed or is interested at all.

“Selena, this is Stanford Merrick, from human resources.”

I feel my cheeks grow hot hearing him say Selena. I still can’t look into his eyes; instead I focus on shaking Stanford Merrick’s hand.

Merrick is a medium-height man, with a smile that gives the impression of friendliness and a calm presence that is all but swallowed by Justin’s.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Livingston,” he says.

I hear the sound of a chair being pulled out, and my knees feel like soup when I hear Justin’s voice again. “Sit,” he says, his voice low.

I move to obey, still avoiding his gaze as I sit down.

While Catherine goes around the office pouring coffees and refreshments, I keep him in my peripheral.

Popping open his jacket button, he lowers himself onto the center of the long, bone-colored leather couch directly across from where I sit.

He looks so dark in that sable suit.

So dark against the sunlight, against the light color of the couch.

“Mr. Justin, would you like me to go on, or would you like to do the honors?” Merrick asks.

He won’t take his eyes off me.

“Mr. Justin?”

He frowns a little as he realizes he wasn’t listening, only looking at me, and says, “Yes.”

He leans back and extends his arm out on the back of the couch, and I feel touched by his eyes as Merrick takes out files and paperwork from a folder while I sit stiff and tight in my seat.

Justin’s energy field is massive and overpowering and so unreadable today. All I can think is: Do you hate me, my Sin?

“How long have you been at Edge, Miss Livingston?” his man is asking.

I hesitate, and notice the slow buzzing of Justin’s cell phone resting beside him on the couch. He reaches out to power it off with one hand, his thumb swiftly stroking once across the screen.

The corner of my mouth tingles unexpectedly.

I shift in my seat. “Several years,” I answer.

“Only child, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Says here you won a CJA award for commentary last year?”

“Yes. I . . .” I search for a word through all the I’m sorrys and I love yous foremost in my head right now. “. . . was really humbled to be even considered.”

Slowly shifting in place and folding his outstretched arm, Justin absently strokes the pad of his thumb over his lower lip, studying me with a gaze that gleams with intelligence, surveying me in silence.

“I see here that you started working at Edge before you graduated from Northwestern, correct?” Merrick continues.

“Yes, actually, I did.” I tug the sleeve of my sweater, trying to keep my attention on his questions.

In my peripheral, I still can’t stop being aware of what he is doing; Sin. How he sips from his glass of water, how he smells, how tightly his fingers curl around the glass.

His dark hair, the crescents of his eyelashes, how they frame his eyes. His lips. So unsmiling. His eyes, so untwinkling.

I turn my head to face him, and it’s almost as if he was waiting for me to turn.

He stares at me, so deeply into me the way only he can, and green becomes my whole world. A world of purely arctic, untouchable, unbreakable green ice.

Nothing this cool should have the ability to make me this hot. But there is heat in the ice. Ice burns just as much as heat does.

“I’m sorry, I lost my train of thought.” I jerk my eyes away.

Flustered, I shift in my seat and look at Merrick. The man is staring at me strangely and with a bit of pity. There’s a slight movement in the direction of Justin as he shifts his shoulders on the couch to face Merrick better, and I notice Justin is looking at Merrick with a dark but controlled look of displeasure.

“Cut through the bullshit, Merrick.”

“Of course, Mr. Justin.”

Ohgod. The fact that Justin has noticed his man is making me nervous makes me blush tenfold.

“Miss Livingston,” Merrick begins again, pausing as though he’s about to say something monumental. “Mr. Justin has an interest in expanding the services we offer our Interface subscribers. We’re offering fresh content from specific sources, mainly a group of young journalists, columnists, and reporters we’re planning to take on.”

Interface. His newest enterprise. Growing like a monster—a force to be reckoned with on its own, it’s been breaking through all the technological and market barriers in its expansion. I’m not surprised that Justin is taking it into this next step; it’s a genius move, from an admirable businessman, the next logical move for a company just named among the top ten places to work for.

“I love it, Justin. I love the idea,” I tell him.

Ohmigod!

Did I just call him Justin?

I seem to catch him off guard. For a fraction of a second, his eyes shadow. It’s as if there’s a storm brewing inside him . . . but the next instant, he cools it back down.

“Well, that’s wonderful to hear,” Merrick says then. “Mr. Justin has an eye for talent, as you know, Miss Livingston. And he wants to make it very clear that he means to bring you on board.”

Sin has been watching me the whole time Merrick speaks. He watches as the smile leaves my face, replaced by shock instead. “You’re offering me a job?”

“Yes.” Merrick is the one who responds. “Indeed, Miss Livingston. A job at M4.”

I’m stunned speechless.

I stare at my lap as I register what I heard.

Sin doesn’t want to talk to me.

He’s barely affected by me at all.

He called me, after four weeks, for this.

I lift my gaze to his, and the instant our eyes lock, I feel a crackle in my system. I feel it like a jolt. Forcing my gaze to stay on his face, which is beyond unreadable, I try to keep my voice level. “A job is the last thing I’d expected you’d offer. Is that all you want from me?”

He leans forward in a fluid move, elbows to his knees, his stare never leaving me. “I want you to take it.”

Oh.

God.

He sounds just as stern as when he called Dibs on me that night . . .

Knotted up inside, I tear my eyes away and stare out the window for a moment. I want to call him Justin, but he’s not Justin anymore to me, I realize. He’s not even Justin, who teased me mercilessly until I caved. This is Justin Justin. Looking at me as if he never held me in his arms.

“You know I can’t leave my job,” I tell him, turning.

He doesn’t seem bothered. “We’ll meet your price.”

Shaking my head with a little laugh of disbelief, I rub my temples.

“Merrick,” is all he says.

And Merrick instantly continues.

Sitting tensely in his seat, a huge contrast to Justin’s lounging form, Mr. Merrick explains, “As I was saying, we’ll be offering news content to our subscribers, and Mr. Justin has been a longtime fan of your voice. He appreciates its honesty and the angles you take.”

Red-hot color spreads up my body. “Thank you. I’m super flattered,” I say. “But there’s really only one answer,” I add breathlessly, “and I’ve already given it to you.”

Mr. Merrick forges on with a look from Justin. “This is the proposal for the job and we need an acceptance or decline within the week.”

He fans a set of papers over the table.

I stare at them, unable to register, to comprehend, what this means.

“Why would you do this?” I ask.

“Because I can.” Justin looks at me levelly. His gaze is intense. Matter-of-fact, even. “I have more to offer you here than where you are.”

He’s not moving, he’s utterly motionless, but he’s just set my world spinning to the thousandth degree.

“Take the papers, Selena,” he says.

“I don’t . . . want to.”

“Think about it. Read it before you say no to me.”

We stare for a beat too long.

He stands with the grace of a feline uncurling. Justin Kyle Preston Logan Justin. CEO of the most powerful corporation in the city. Obsession of the ladies. Elusive as a comet. Relentless and ruthless. “My people will contact you by the end of the week.”

I wonder all of a sudden if there will ever be a time when this man stops surprising me. I really admire his composure. I admire many things about him. If I thought for a moment that we could fight it out, I was wrong. Justin won’t waste his time on that. He’s too busy reaching for his never-ending ambitions, conquering the world.

And me? I’m just trying to piece mine together from all the debris on the floor.

Inhaling, I gather the papers quietly. I take them and don’t say goodbye or thank you or anything at all, just hear my shoes as I leave.

I open the door and can’t help but steal one last peek into his office; my last glimpse of him is leaning forward on the couch with his hands on his knees, exhaling as he drags a hand over his face.

“Will you be needing anything else from me, Mr. Justin?” asks Merrick with a tone that is almost begging for more work.

When Justin lifts his head, he catches me watching him. We freeze and then just stare. At each other. He looks at me warily, and I look at him with all the regret I feel. There are so many things I want to say to him, but this is how I leave, all my words morphed into silence as I shut the door behind me.

His assistants watch me leave.

I board the elevator quietly and stare at my reflection on the steel doors as I ride to the lobby. I suppose I look pretty, my hair down, my attire draping, soft and feminine, against my body. But as I stare into my eyes, I look so lost that I want to dive inside to find myself.

And I realize that love is as ever-changing as a sky or as an ocean: always there, but not always sunny or clear or calm.

Outside, I flag a cab, and as we drive off, for a second I turn and stare at M4’s beautiful mirrored façade. So regal. So impenetrable, I think, until my phone buzzes.

WHAT HAPPENED?!

Did u KISS AND MAKE UP?!

TELL US! WYNN IS LEAVING IN 3 MINS AND WANTS TO KNOW

DID HE READ YOUR ARTICLE? Did it make him MELT?

I read Gina’s texts and can’t even summon the energy to text back as the cab pulls into traffic.

“Where to?” the cab driver asks.

“Just drive for a bit, please.”

I look out at Chicago, a city I love and that frightens me because I never seem to feel quite safe in it. Everything looks the same. Chicago is still busy, and windy, electric, modern, wonderful and unsafe. It’s the very same city I’ve lived in all my life.

The city didn’t change. The one who changed was me.

Like a thousand women before me, I fell in love with the city’s favorite bachelor billionaire player.

And now I will never be the same.

After what happened, he will never be mine, just like I always feared.

FOUR WEEKS + 1 HOUR

“I couldn’t get a read on him. I just couldn’t. I was too overwhelmed just by seeing him and having all these things to say and knowing that he must hate me and didn’t really mean to talk to me at all.” I glance away, inhaling.

“Selena.”

That seems to be all that Gina can say. She falls morgue-quiet after that.

A few minutes ago, I finally asked the cab driver to drop me off at a Starbucks simply because I didn’t want to go home. Gina immediately caught up with me, and now we’re at a table in the back, in our own little world.

“I am so sad, Gina.” I hide my eyes behind one hand for a minute, my elbow propped on the table. “It’s really over now.”

“Fuck this.” Gina purses her lips. She’s scowling as usual. “Does he even care that you fell in love regardless of him being a player—a manwhore and whatnot?”

“Gina!” I scowl.

She scowls back.

I shouldn’t even be talking to her about this. Gina warned me a thousand times that this would happen. She’d said Don’t get involved with him until she tired of it. Because Justin has a record and I was on assignment. But could I have stopped myself from being swept away?

He’s a cyclone and I walked straight into the eye of it when I agreed to write that exposé.

Falling hadn’t been in the plans. Falling for a guy had never even been in my life plan. Gina and I were supposed to be single and happy forever—workaholics, best friends for life, and tight with our families. She’d gotten her heart broken before and she’d passed on all the tidbits to me so that I didn’t have to go through that too. And like that I had protected myself. I was never as interested in men as I was in furthering my career. But Justin is not just any man. He didn’t seduce me in just any way. And what we shared wasn’t just . . . anything.

I’m a columnist and I should have a concise word to describe him, but I have nothing other than “Sin.”

Exhilarating, addictive, he is a player who plays it right, a billionaire who is used to being asked for things from people—and in the end, I hate that he must have felt that I was just like everyone else in his life, wanting to get something from him.

No, Selena, you’re not like everyone else. You’re worse.

He sleeps with one groupie for four nights, or four groupies for one. He gives them nothing of himself. Maybe he gives them a check for the charities they ask for, as I once heard one ask him, but this doesn’t put a dent in his account. He lets them feed him grapes in his yacht, if they want to; he’s too spoiled by women to stop them. But he doesn’t give them another passing glance when they leave. But with you, Selena? He let you in. He fed you a grape in his yacht. He came to your campout not because he likes sleeping outdoors but because he knew you would be there. He told you about four, his lucky number. The number that symbolizes him going above and beyond the norm. Oh god, I have never been so aware of how deep he’d let me in until I stood before him today, completely cast out of what had become my own personal paradise.

“I would’ve said so many things to him if his man hadn’t been there discussing a position for me.” I pull out the papers and pass them over. “I could hardly concentrate on this with Justin in the room. Even his man was affected.”

She reads under her breath. “An offer of employment for Selena Livingston . . .” She lowers the paper and stares at me with those sultry dark eyes that are now as puzzled as I feel.

“Interface is expanding into news,” I explain.

She stares down at the papers. “If you don’t want this, I do.”

I kick her under the table. “Be serious.”

“I need more sugar.” She goes to the condiment table, returns, and settles back down with a little packet of sugar she adds to her coffee and stirs.

“What’s a man like him, the CEO, doing in a meeting like that?” She frowns. “Justin is too smart, Selena. He wanted to make sure you showed up. He fucking wants you there. He is offering health insurance for your next of kin. Your mom. Do you realize what this means for you on the work front?”

My mom is my weakness.

Yes, I do realize.

Justin is offering me . . . the world.

But a world without him is nothing now.

“Selena, though Edge has been getting good press attention since . . .” She throws me an apologetic look because she knows I don’t like remembering the article, then adds, “But how long will that attention last? Edge is still hanging by threads.” She sips her coffee. “And Interface is Interface. It’s not going anywhere but up. M4, Selena, it’s like . . . huge. None of us have ever dreamed of working there. It hires, like, geniuses from all over the country.”

“I know,” I whisper.

So why does Justin want me on board? He can get anyone he wants. In any capacity.

“I bet Wynn would say for you to take it. We need her advice; she’s the only one in a relationship.”

“Gina, I said I love you to a guy for the first time in my life. I would never, as long as I live, choose for him to be my boss.” I add, pained, “And Justin doesn’t get involved with his employees.”

Her eyes cloud over with worry. “And you want him more than the job.”

I’m so ashamed of saying yes, because I don’t deserve it. Not even to want it. But I duck my head and nod.

I have a hole in me. So huge and empty, every pleasure in my life feels like nothing without him.

Gina rereads the letter, shakes her head, folds it, and hands it back to me. And all the while I’m still at M4. At the top floor, inside that marble, chrome, and glass office. And I can still smell him in my nose. My brain synapses won’t quit firing off, replaying the scene in his office. Every word he said. Every word I had hoped he’d say that he did not say. Every shade of green that I’ve seen in his eyes lost to me—except for this new cold shade of green that I had never seen.

I remember his gaze on my profile as Merrick interviewed me. I remember his voice. I remember what it feels like to stand close to him.

I remember how he exhaled when I left, as if he’d just engaged in some sort of physical battle.

And how his eyes latched on to me after that. Roping me in.

As Gina and I walk back home, I am so grateful I didn’t tell my mother I was seeing him today. She’d have raised her hopes on my behalf and I’d hate to dash them now. I tuck the papers back into my bag, and when we finally walk into our small but cozy two-bedroom apartment, I go to my room, shut the door, drop onto the bed and pull out the papers again.

It’s just your regular offer. I scan every page now and it lists the benefits, a salary that I do not deserve and is usually what much more experienced, award-winning columnists make . . . but then I hit a spot that really affects me.

Justin’s signature, on the bottom of the contract.

I hold my breath and stroke his signature a little bit. There’s an energy on it, like a stamp, somehow making the document feel heavy.

Crawling under my bed, I pull out my shoebox where I keep little things I treasure. A gold R necklace my mother gave me. On impulse I put on the necklace to remind myself of who I am. Daughter, woman, girl, human. I shift some of the birthday cards from Wynn and Gina aside. And find a note. The note that was once attached to the most beautiful flower arrangement that arrived in my office.

I take the ivory-colored card and open it . . . and read.

It was the first time I saw his handwriting. He signed the message, A friend who thinks of you, M.

Still dressed, I curl up on my bed and stare at it.

My friend.

No. My assignment, the story that I thought I’d wanted, the city’s playboy who became my friend who became my lover who became my love.

Now he wants to be my boss, and I want him more than ever.

MY LIFE NOW

I’m lying in bed and he’s dropping delicious, shivery kisses all along the back of my ear. I’m breathless as I absorb the feel of his tanned skin against mine, the strength of his muscles, the ripples of his abs against my tummy. Oh god. I can’t take him. I want to eat him with kisses and I want him to eat me back, every inch of me, I don’t even know where I want him to start.

He takes my hands and pins them to his shoulders, leaning over to buzz my mouth with his. “Open, Selena,” he murmurs, and his green eyes, his green eyes are looking at me in the dark.

“Are you real?” I breathe, my heart in my throat, my lungs working madly in my chest.

He’s looking down at me so familiarly, I’m not sure if this is a dream or a memory as he drags his fingers up my arms, sinuously, and I close my eyes. Oh god, Sin. He feels so good. I murmur his name and shakily trail my hands up the hard planes of his chest. God, he feels so real. So excellently real. He feels just like he used to feel, moves like he used to move, kisses like he used to, takes control of me like he used to.

He pins me with his weight and I struggle to get closer, wiggling and arching and shivering, his long, strong body stretched out on top of mine.

I close my fingers around his shoulders like he seems to want me to do as he circles his hands around my waist now and continues to set slow, tingly kisses on my neck, and need slams into my midsection, my skin screaming while I burn. I want. Want his hands all over me, his touch covering me, head to toe. His mouth. Oh, please.

“Justin, please now, please now . . . inside . . . now,” I hear myself beg.

He’s not in any hurry. He never is. He curls my legs around his hips, kissing his way up to my mouth. It’s been forever since I felt this, his lips at the corner of my mouth. I feel my eyes well with tears. Every inch of him is missed by every inch of me. One second I’m rocking my hips in silent plea, the next he’s driving inside me.

It’s the sound that wakes me. A soft mewling sound that I make. A sound of absolute pleasure, such absolute pleasure it borders on pain. I’m soaked in sweat when I bolt upright in my bed. I look around, shakily wiping the wetness on one side of my face, but no. He’s not back in my bed. I’m still crying at night, my body’s still aching for his at night.

;text-ali�3��)-