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iphoenixrising · 3 years

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DickTim Week 2021: Day 5 Winged!Talon Tim au

So. another dual prompt and I really regret nothing about this one tbh. I took tomorrow’s Talon and today’s Wings and made a Winged!Talon!Tim fic. Of course, I talked to the wonderful babes on Capes & Coffee about a what if combination and this just, whew. Careful, it might break your heart a little, but damn if it isn’t an interesting idea.

Not beta read, so don't be a hater :D

Previous Talon!Tim universe posts: The initial idea, Babe and I talking it out, Talon Training Ask, Ra’s vs the Court, Talon and Ra’s, Talon and Ra’s take 2, Talon and Shiva short.

Watching B take on the new and improved Talon is really the entertainment of the year.

Once upon a time it had taken all of them plus more to take down as much of the Court of Owls as humanly possible. Of course, like rats, the Bats knew there would be no way to get the entire Court or all the Talons, not when the upper echelons of Gotham had spent the better part of 200 years creating, storing, training, and obtaining more.

Politicians were investigated, corrupt cops removed, and criminals burrowed underground once word of what the capes did to save the day got passed around.

For the first time in years, crime in Gotham was at an all time low.

But, as the coin flip dictates, nothing good lasts forever. Trouble is always brewing below the surface to eventually rise to the top and try to take over.

Case in point:

The Bats of Gotham have come up against a new threat wearing the signature Talon armor, and the call goes out to all available capes for help taking on the undead mercenary before another crime family ends up in the Obituaries rather than Blackgate.

The fact the Court is still up and running after the Batfamily took them down in a fiery blaze that ended with all their Talons gone, Sensei exposed, and most the ruling families imprisoned or poisoned by Lincoln March, is like a kick to the abdomen after they closed that particular book. Worse, with a new Talon soldier is sighted running around Gotham, another circus kid has been kidnapped and turned into the right hand of the Court of Owls. Dick, with his absolute survivors guilt, is the one to make going after the Talon and whoever is still behind the scenes a top priority.

Which is how they find themselves in the middle of Knight’s Stadium facing down a Talon that is too short to be March. Red Hood, Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl, and Black Bat pretty much got their asses handed to them in the first twelve minutes. Pretty hard to understand until you take into account the new and improved Talon facing them now is terrifying in a completely different way than most undead assassins are.

He knows them.

He knows them in ways that lets him fight fast and furious with vicious accuracy, striking at weaknesses few of the vigilantes of Gotham realized they even had.

He isn't as big as Lincoln or even Cobb, not nearly as old. He hasn't been kept in cryostasis waiting for the next generation to need his skills. He doesn't have creaks in his joints from being put on deep freeze too many times.

This one is silent and efficient, obviously trained in multiple types of martial arts, is highly proficient with or without the standard Talon knives, is a master tactician, counters the majority of their moves with alarming consistency–

and the fucking Talon has wings.

Honest-to-God wings.

Everyone had assumed the metal monstrosities on his back were weapons of some kind, but the glint of steel in the streetlight flash a warning before the lumps moved in an arch, extending far out past his shoulder blades, slicing into Red Hood’s body suit with a razor-sharp edge, shredding the armor like paper.

It’s not enough he’s got weapons obviously made specifically for his skill set, it’s not enough he’s an assassin and doesn’t hold to the same standards of non-lethal combat, it’s not enough that he can use his wings to fly or to fight like he’s using another limb to kick the shit out of them, and it’s not enough that he effortlessly counters so many of their attacks that he has to have some kind of inside information on all of them and their fighting styles.

The knives are definitely a thing when the Talon can throw them hard enough to penetrate parts of their suits in between armored plating, which further drives the theory that this is a person they’ve dealt with before. Intimately. Few people in the world know how their suits are made. Even more, few people know particulars enough when their suits are constantly reconstructed.

The only thing on their side that tipped the scales in their favor–

–the Batman.

The wings threw him off his game, obviously, but not enough to stop B from holding his own with swift and merciless force.

It's like watching a dance of fast and furious fists, blades in Talon's hands glinting deadly in the night, finding B's suit over and over and over until he's made it to blood and bone. He takes every hit the Batman can dish out, head snapping back, left, and right with the volley of jaw-breaking blows and bone-shattering kicks.

None of it gives the Talon pause. When a move makes him drop a blade, another is already in hand, cutting into their body suits, wings flipping out to defend or distract, sweeping moves and well coordinated attacks.

The unnatural appendages are like another arm, another leg, an extension working on the same central nervous system, regardless as to how the Court managed to make it happen.

A jump kick off a trash can is a lucky shot as a wing catches B in the ribs hard enough to knock him into the wall of Mike's Famous Hotdogs. The only thing saving the Dark Knight from a concussion or permanent brain damage is the plating in his cowl.

It gives the Talon enough time to make a final bid for a battered Nightwing, Red Hood, and Robin struggling to their feet again, eyes for their fallen mentor.

Before he can lunge forward to start the attack yet again, the Talon just stops, pauses like he’s stuck or something, and in the span of a breath, both wings extend fully, flap powerfully once to propel him up into the Gotham night.

O tries her best to track his flight through the city, but no one’s arms are working well enough to toss a tracker on him.

She loses him over Cape Carmine, slams her palms against her system in frustration, makes sure she gets as much footage from the confrontation as possible.

After some sleep and a whole lot of bandages and ice packs, the Bat family meets in the Cave to watch the footage, breakdown the Talon’s fighting style, his weaponry, and make theories on his identity.

O helps out with readings she has of electronic pulses she managed to capture coming from the armor over his wings. She thinks she might be able to use it to track him if they can get close enough for her equipment to ping the signal again.

B makes a trip to Arkham since Freeze apparently hasn’t stopped producing the formula used to put Talons in cryostasis.

It’s not until Gotham’s power grid has a massive surge that O and the Bats can pinpoint a possible location, all of them invested in one hell of a fight to get the last rats still scurrying in the underground.

The plan of attack comes together smoothly once they’ve scoped out the location, seen the shady activity, and together, they make one hell of a plan.

And because, you know, Gotham, it is completely normal for the Court of Owl's headquarters to have a skylight.

Natch.

For this one, they've got Batgirl and Black Bat, Red Hood and Robin, Nightwing and B, a real family affair.

O's quiet voice over comms leading them through the maze of traps and empty rooms, abandoned libraries and spooky ball rooms. The laboratory isn't the most horrific they've all ever seen (because the Joker's summer place is literally the stuff of nightmares), but a few of them do gag on the smell alone.

The plan, however, goes horribly awry when the clear sounds of tormented screaming echoes from right under their reinforced bootheels.

Black Bat's fists clench hard, her breathing wheezes out when the tone, the utter agony goes right through her.

A shudder slides up Robin's spine as all of them turn toward the noise.

Without a flicker or a word, the Batman moves, strafing in the shadows toward the sound. He can't assume it's an innocent civilian with something the Court wants, but he's betting on the fact that scream will lead them to whoever is running the show.

The medieval room has bars and reinforced locks, implements hanging on the wall. The cement brick is stained rust colored with old blood, the vestiges of training, and the awful realization they've found another hidden niche in the city that always existed right under their noses is punctuated with the abrupt drop in temperature, with the sudden charge in the air, with the zzzzcrack snapping beyond the door, replaced with a muted buzzing Robin can feel in his back teeth.

B is already on his way to the roof, Batgirl down through the floor vent while Nightwing picks the locks with fast precision, knocking the tumblers around.

Robin and Red Hood stay close to the reinforced door, balancing on the balls of their feet, katana and .45s at the ready.

Black Bat takes the high road, ceiling tiles giving way under her Bat-a-rang. She gives a sharp nod before she's up and gone.

"All right. Ready?" Nightwing stands, cracks his neck, flips his escrimas in both hands, works his shoulders to prepare for the strain of each blow he plans to give.

"Ya betcha ass," Hood murmurs low, a cut figure with both guns at his sides, gloved fingers on the trigger guard.

"Don't disappoint," Robin snarls, "either of you."

"Nice pep talk, squirt," Nightwing snickers.

"Tt, back up your mouth with action."

"Better shuddap, Demon. Golden Boy ain't fuckin' 'round. Neither is the Bat. We get one more chance a' this asshole. We ain't gonna blow it again, ya feel me?"

"Finally, something we agree on, Hood."

"Other than N's shitty mullet?"

Nightwing swiftly glares at them both over his shoulder, unconsciously putting himself front and center of the trio, ready to be the first in once they get the signal.

– which is the sound of the glass raining down from the heavens.

Three booted feet kick the door hard enough to take it off the hinges, lying against the faded stains like a fallen body.

First step in the room is the complete opposite to what they'd all been expecting.

The two Owl masks aren't the usual, but a perversion of the originals, crudely drawn yawning mouths complete with fangs dripping blood.

But.

The boy on his knees, arms in a binder holding the appendages hostage at a painful angle, is dripping the real thing. Rivulets down his chest and where his back is partially visible. Some from the base of the wings going into the back of his shoulder blades where the skin is torn and raw.

The bar gag shoved in his mouth doesn't take away from the splatters on his chin, the bruising on his face, the swollen eye. But it's his wings that makes the Bats falter from the initial rushing attack.

His wings are without the armor, are bound straight up above his restrained body with hooks grotesquely puncturing through the downy softness, desecrating the beauty with blood and gore. The angle makes the pull to his back where the wings are part of him just another agony on top of atrocity.

"Fuck," from the first Owl mask, and a swift move frees the Talon's bound arms, the appendages flopping uselessly to the floor, only his trapped, tortured wings keeping him up on his knees.

The second Owl shoves the first back, "let him take care of them. Let's get out of here!"

The first Owl snarls out something low and foreign, the phrases rolling off his tongue.

The words lock into place, and the Talon's head snaps up, snarling around the gag in his mouth.

When his face is finally, finally visible, the protectors of Gotham are frozen in their tracks.

Familiar violet-blue eyes, too-long blue-black hair, cut jawline and pointed nose. Tiny scar on his right cheek from the time he caught Ra's al Ghul's ring across the face.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," is barely heard through the Red Hood's synths and in no way fully expresses his utter horror at what these dirty motherfuckers have done.

Robin wretches, bile burning the back of his throat once those eyes swing up to the masked parody of the Owls and his bare upper body is visible through the blood and sweat on his chest, when the scars peeking through on his collar bones form a half-visible Y-incision, when the coloring of the bared wings now makes sense (robin's wings, Damian Wayne thinks with his heart beating pitter patter fast, and his stomach in knots, they put robin's wings on him...).

And the hurt, agonized noise coming out of Nightwing's chest is the only noise he can make when those dimmed, dazed eyes swing from the Owls back to the vigilantes frozen in their spots, when there's no spark of joy or fondness or stubbornness he's so used to seeing staring him down.

The errant thought, the first instinct, is the only humane way to deal with this new Talon is to put him down for good wars with the man behind the mask that only wants to reach out, wants to pull the Talon into his body and curve over, to scream at the injustice of it all, to rail at himself for not even suspecting.

Another switch flipped and the hooks release his wings, blood splattering on top the old stains.

"Get them! Don't fuck it up this time or you won't get another chance," the second Owl shoves the Talon's injured shoulder in the direction of the horrified vigilantes.

They don't even bother to take the gag out of his mouth before setting him on his target.

A flap of wings, and the Talon is on his feet again, swaying only slightly. He's in the boots and pants from earlier, the rest of his uniform tossed carelessly behind him by his tormentors. A sweep of his feet and the knives glint in bare palms, a whisper of a sound.

The curved, clawed blade glints in the overhead light when the Talon raises it and cuts the strap of the bar gag in his bloody mouth, turns his head to spit it out without looking away from the vigilantes.

The Batman, grim and stoic in the face of this surprising turn of events, gives the barest nod. From her hiding spot behind the complex machinery, Black Bat takes off after the running Owl members, leaving the rest of the family to deal with their former third Robin.

The wings flinchingly flare out and their former bird hunches over, ready for the attack.

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait,” the Red Hood removes the helmet, leaves the domino underneath. He keeps one hand out in peace, slowly dipping down to put his helmet on the ground. “Is us, Tim. Timmy. Baby Bird. Is us. Yer family. Gotta lookit us, yeah?”

For the first time, the Talon speaks, “who’s Tim?”

And then he lunges.

The fight happens very differently this time.

The former power behind the punches is obviously dulled with the Talon’s identity reveal. He doesn’t hold back, is utterly ruthless with his attacks. He takes out B’s right knee, puts Hood down on the stained floor, knocks Robin into the wall with crushing force, and slams Batgirl’s head off the operating table.

He stands over Nightwing, wicked blade in hand and robin’s wings spread wide. He takes a knee, the sharp edge right above N’s adam’s apple, staring down impassively into the whiteouts.

“Timmy,” N spits blood, grunting when one knee pins his arm down. “Timmy, please. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I love you and I’m sorry they did this to you.”

Those eyes don’t change in the slightest. “You should not have tried to oppose the Owls.”

“We beat them once,” Nightwing gasps, “and you helped us, Baby Bird. You were with us then, don’t you remember.”

“I was nothing before the Court perfected me,” the Talon replies emotionlessly.

“You were perfect before they ever touched you.”

“No,” and the Talon leans down, puts them a breath away. “The only thing you and those others do is put the criminals back in prison, back in Arkham for them to escape again, for them to kill and destroy over and over again. Like this, I can stop them permanently.”

“Oh Timmy,” and behind the whiteouts, Nightwing’s eyes spill over, his vision wavery. “Timmy–”

“Don’t call me that. Stop calling me that.”

“You know me, you know us. You have to remember–”

“Lies. All of it lies!”

Nightwing’s chest stutters, his fist clenching, “it’s not. None of it is. Not even this–”

And he’s fast enough to grab the back of the Talon’s neck, to lean up enough against the blade pressed against his throat, can bring their mouths together, can kiss him like he’s dying and the Talon is the only thing that can save him.

It’s sloppy and awkward because the Talon doesn’t know what’s happening, gasps against the vigilante’s mouth. The tongue sliding over his, the muffled moan in his mouth sparks something in the back of his brain where the Court of Owls could never touch.

When Nightwing pulls back, stares up at wide violet-blue eyes, when the blade falls away to clatter against the block, when the Talon’s mouth trembles and tears fill his eyes, when his wings flutter and falter, fold in on them both, when his voice goes hoarse with, “D-Dick?” Nightwing throws both arms around his waist and holds on.

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madmansan · 3 years

Text

28 days

Fantasy au - Demon!San x F!Reader

Trigger Warnings

Blades, scars, gore, violence, blood, swearing, death, murder, kidnapping, slight mentions of suicide.

Day 2

Your eyes slowly opened as the blazing sun rises above the walls of the Labyrinth. You shuffled slightly, trying to stretch out your limbs, when you heard voices behind you, and instantly retracted them, hoping it just seemed like you were moving in your sleep.

"The child you took yesterday. The one from Aldbarrow. That's her sister." That was San's voice, but the other was completely unfamiliar.

"You're going against your duty, San." The other voice belonged to someone more soft-spoken. It was cold, sinister and, despite the aggravation in their words, very calm.

"I'm aware of that, your majesty." San responded. Your majesty? You stayed completely still. You thanked the Gods that they hadn't realised you were awake. "She was so confident I almost felt bad for her, so I gave her a chance, but she most likely won't make it."

"I think it's a dumb idea." Another voice piped up. This one was slightly higher, and a lot closer to you. "You could have just stuck to your job, but you can't even do that, can you?" He let out a gentle laugh, his voice a lot closer than before. Slowly, you opened one of your eyes to see him leaning against the tree in front of you. He was just as beautiful as San, with a jawline so sharp you were sure it could do some lethal damage. "Although," he laughed to himself, "it's not like we haven't seen you do it before."

"Shut it, Wooyoung! Not everyone's job is as simple as kissing the ass of the king." San said, the more vicious tone he took completely paralleled his usual teasing one. The demon against the tree, the one you assumed was Wooyoung, laughed loudly at San, and flicked his longer black hair out of his face.

"That's enough." The Demon King took control of the two bickering boys, masterfully, yet his calm tone never strayed. "San. If she's yours and you want to play this little game with her then go ahead. But don't you dare let her step foot near the castle. Do everything you can to prevent it."

"I will, your majesty." San said, his voice a lot lower than before.

They weren't going to kill you. Not now anyway. You could only assume it was because of the demon's etiquette San had told you about. However, if he was going to start trying even harder to stop you from getting to the castle, you were going to have to be more resilient.

Footsteps moved towards you, and you watched as Wooyoung turned to join the Demon King. The two of them walked ahead of you, towards the wall and you could only catch a glimpse of the King's huge hooded robe before he disappeared in a cloud of dark smoke, followed swiftly by Wooyoung. It gently floated to the ground before fading away, leaving you and San alone in the clearing once more.

❁

You lay "asleep" for a little while longer, making your act more believable.

After slowly opening your eyes, you stretched your limbs and sighed satisfactorily. San sat against the tree trunk by your legs, staring blankly at the wall. You wanted to tell him you heard everything, but you didn't know what he would do if you did. You decided not to risk it.

You sat up and shuffled next to him. "Encounter many demons last night?" You asked, leaning forward to face him. Of course you knew he had met the king and the other one, but he surely had to have seen more whilst you were asleep. You didn't ask this just out of curiosity, you may just find out what you're up against in here.

He didn't take his eyes off the wall, but he did respond. "No. There was a mob of humans at the entrance, so they were all gathered there. Being the main guard, I did have to leave you for a moment to go and see what was going on. I saw a huge crowd with torches, guns and daggers. One called out for you and Roslyn." Your eyes widened. It was stupid of you to think they wouldn't come for you.

You moved yourself across the floor so that you were now facing him. His gaze only drifted to you for a moment before returning to the wall. "She said she was your mother." He let out a muffled giggle that eventually turned into hysterical laughter. "And here I was thinking no one cared about you! Your whole village came out to find you!" His laughter continued when he noticed how quiet you had become.

The whole village had come out to look for you. The. Whole. Village.

The whole village that said you were the reason for Roslyn's disappearance. The friend that stopped you from saving her. The mother that blamed you, hated you, and didn't want to believe you even existed. They all came for you.

You couldn't help but wonder if Hongjoong had joined them.

"She was looking for Roslyn not me." You said, bluntly. You knew she wasn't looking for you. She may have tried to stop you from entering the Labyrinth before, but after her outburst you could hardly say she still cared about you.

His laughter began to fade being replaced with confusion. "You seem so sure of that? Do you not like her or something?"

You didn't know how to answer. You hated her for blaming you, for ripping up your work and ignoring your grief. But you didn't hate her, you couldn't hate her. She was still your mother.

"It's complicated." You mumbled, looking away from him.

"How so?" San's tone was less condescending. He sounded genuinely interested.

"She blamed me for Roslyn's disappearance. She blamed me for it when it wasn't my fault at all. I was just as heartbroken as her but she didn't care."

"Aha!" San cheered, a smirk crawling onto his face. "So that's why you're here! You're trying to prove her wrong! Die a hero and she'll respect you again." He sighed with a triumphant smile, "I knew no one in their right mind would enter here just to save someone they thought was dead."

"That's not true!" You said in protest. "I was going to enter the Labyrinth whether Roslyn had gone in or not! I always wanted to see what it was like. I'm writing a book, remember?" Fury bubbled inside you at his cockiness. "And, by the way, if I was so keen to die, do you think I would have made this deal?! Do you think I would have come this far?!" San nodded his head in thought, contemplating your argument. You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your rage, "I know no one in their right mind would do this. But I'm not in my right mind, I never have been. I was desperate to enter the Labyrinth, my mother called me crazy. I wanted to save Roslyn and my best friend told me to give up; to stop being an idiot." You sighed, "I'm here because I felt guilty and I was confident enough in myself to save Roslyn. I'm not giving up. Not now. Not ever. It's all for her sake."

Your shoulders slumped, your eyes suddenly finding the floor the most interesting thing to stare at as they filled with tears. A gentle hand was placed on top of yours and you looked up to be met with the softened gaze of San.

"Wow.", he said, "You really are bat-shit crazy." He smiled at you, but it wasn't teasing or evil, it was tender and comforting.

He stood up abruptly and pulled you up at the same time with complete ease. "Alright then, my lovely heroine, you lead the way."

His grin had returned to his usual flirty one, but the memory of that moment you shared didn't fade. His gentle hand on yours, the sympathy in his dark eyes and the welcoming smile all remained inside your head as a symbol of hope in the death trap that you had found yourself in.

❁

You prepared yourself for the next leg of your journey, the image of San smiling genuinely through your tear-blurred vision not leaving your head for a second.

He stood at the entrance to the clearing, as you searched through your bag, making sure he hadn't stolen anything from you. Especially your dagger.

Several impatient huffs left him. "Oh look! Is that the blood moon rising!"

You rolled your eyes at his petty sarcasm. "You can't be too sure." You smiled to yourself, "Especially when it comes to you." You lifted your gaze to see his sharp glare before returning it to your bag, a proud smirk on your face.

That's when you spotted the food you gathered before leaving for the Labyrinth. "Huh?" Eating hadn't crossed your mind since you entered, you hadn't even felt hungry. "San." he looked over at you, "Why don't I feel hungry?"

He closed his eyes with a sigh, resting his head against the wall, "Haven't I told you enough about demons? Are you not satisfied?"

You shook your head with a wide smile, "A few random facts aren't going to make a very informative book."

He sighed again, "Without your knowledge, and without even sensing it, you are already under my control." You raised a brow and cocked your head, prompting him to explain further. "No matter how much you say you're not interested in me or how much you think you're in control, you're lying. It's human nature to be completely and utterly submissive to us, to the point where we are the only thing that can nourish you." Your cheeks started to heat up with embarrassment, which, much to your disdain, made San grin from ear-to-ear. "I take away your hunger, I take away your thirst, I stop you from getting ill. I stop you from dying from anything that isn't me. Remarkable, don't you think?" It was his turn to cock his head, waiting for your answer.

"Remarkable indeed, if not slightly disturbing." You said, suddenly very uncomfortable with not being able to feel normal human feelings.

San gently laughed, "I think it's rather romantic."

You looked at him like he was crazy, but he only smirked, his eyes half-open and still managing to stare right into your soul.

You sighed heavily, turning around to find the tree gone and in its place two doors. You walked up to them to inspect their intricate details. One was a deep red, with spirals that curved around the golden door handle and around the edges. The other was made out of a rotting wood, the mossy green paint hardly there as most of it had chipped off.

You tried the handle of the red door but it wouldn't open. You tried again with the green door but it had the same result. "What?! They must be here for a reason? Why can't I open them?" You tried to use the handles of both doors again but neither of them opened.

"Aaah! Those doors? You have to knock to open them." San said over your shoulder. You whipped you head around at him with a questioning glance before returning your focus to the doors. You knocked gently on the red one but it didn't open. You turned back to San as you gestured to the door with a face that said 'See? Didn't work.' "Well, you have to knock harder than that! You think demons are that polite? No. We command doors open with our knocks."

You huffed, turning back to the doors once more. You made a tight fist and slammed it down on the door three times, before it flung up, a freezing cold wind rushing from behind you and down the long, dark corridor in front of you. You placed your hands up to the door frame to stop yourself from being pulled into its depths.

The wind faded as it wailed further down the hall, leaving you breathless and shivering. You swallowed hard and turned to the other door, knocking harshly and then leaping to the side to avoid another onslaught of wind. However, you were surprisingly met by welcoming birdsong.

You looked up to San who looked at you slightly bored and you cleared your throat, moving back in front of the doors.

On the other side of the red door was a dark, thin hallway, with a leaking roof. The small broken windows on the one side reflected a white light onto the wooden floorboards below. The cold chill returned as you stared into its unending passageway.

You slowly pulled your eyes away and looked into the other door. It opened to a beautiful forest, the trees taller than the Labyrinth walls, a stream gently running through them, the calming birdsong. It all felt too inviting. Far too inviting.

You looked back to San, "It's a trick, isn't it?" You asked.

He shrugged, "All I know is that if you enter through one of the door ways, you won't be able to come out again."

You looked back to the doors, eyeing each one cautiously. "But, I'm guessing both lead to the castle, right?"

San was silent for a moment before he piped up. "Depends on how you look at it. For example, one way could lead you straight to the castle and the other could throw you off track for a bit but then it's up to you to get to the castle. But if what you're trying to say is that they both lead somewhere in the Labyrinth then, yes, they're both still within the Labyrinth walls, and will most likely, I suppose, lead you to the castle."

You sighed, "You made that far more complicated then it needed to be." You didn't have to look at him to know he wore a prideful smirk. "Okay, so it's a battle of wits. That's fine. I can do that."

San scoffed, but you paid him no mind. "Okay. The spooky corridor seems to be the one that people would most likely avoid, but then that would surely seem too obvious, so that means that the spooky corridor would be the right choice, but then again that could be a double bluff....ugh!!! This is so irritating!" You groaned, giving up quicker than you had hoped.

San started laughing at you as you slumped to the floor. "Y/n, you're overthinking it."

You stood up again and looked at both doors, "Can you give me a hint?"

San rubbed his chin, humming in thought. He walked up to you and placed an arm over your shoulder, "What will I get from helping you?"

Now, it was your turn to think. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

San laughed, taking his arm off your shoulder and walking up to the doors. He leaned against the wall inbetween, "Take a look at them, and decide which one you think is safer. As simple as that."

"As simple as that?"

"As simple as that."

You thought for a moment. If he was trying to stop you from getting to the castle before, he would be trying a lot harder now. After his run in with the king he is going to try and throw you off track at every chance he can get. You were sure of it.

Nevertheless, he did say that both ways would inevitably lead to the castle, one taking a lot longer than the other, but that wasn't really that big of a concern. You were only on day two after all.

"Very well." You strode up to the green door, looking into the gentle forest environment that lay beyond it. "I'm going in here."

Before you could step inside, San grabbed your wrist. "Are you sure you want to choose this one?" He leaned in closer to your ear and whispered, "You might just regret it."

You shoved him away with your free arm, "I'm going. This is the door I have chosen. Feel free to follow me. I won't be bothered if you don't."

He let out a small frustrated huff, as he followed in behind you.

You admired your surroundings, it was just as beautiful as it seemed from the other side of the door. Your happiness soon faded when you turned around to see that the door had disappeared. Leaving San laughing to himself so hard it echoed through the surrounding trees and off into the wilderness that lay ahead.

"I can't believe you actually chose this door!" His statement was followed by more laughing, "The other way would have taken you straight to the castle in under two hours! Now look who's the idiot!"

Were you annoyed? Yes. Extremely so. Were you going to let him know that? Not a chance.

You smiled, "Oh well, we'll have to go this way then. Come on." You started to walk away, humming to yourself, but it was soon interrupted.

"What?!" San roared from behind you. You let out a small laugh to yourself. "Are you seriously not annoyed?!" He yelled at your back.

"Should I be?" You shouted back over your shoulder.

"Of course you should be!" He stomped up next you and stared you right in the eyes. "I tricked you! Outsmarted you! Why are you not angry?"

"You didn't trick me. I made the decision. That was my bad. I'm not gonna be angry at you. Besides, I'll still get to the castle. Might take me a bit longer, but it's best not to dwell on it." His jaw dropped in utter disbelief, and, with a slight surge of confidence, you placed your finger under his chin and closed his mouth for him.

You walked away giggling to yourself, as he swiftly followed behind you, mumbling curses and mimicking your previous comments.

❁

You had been walking in the forest for a couple hours, whenever you tried to ask San something he just ignored you. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If anything it was quite relaxing.

The stream rushed passed as a gentle breeze rustled the branches above. Little balls of light with lacy wings darted passed you, and inbetween the trees. You longed to know what they were, but you knew San wouldn't tell you in his tantrum state.

You looked over your shoulder at him, and he quickly looked away from you, rather flustered. You smirked and looked back in front of you, catching the shimmering stream in the corner of your eye. You knew it would be best if you didn't irritate him further, but there was something so entertaining about it.

You placed your bag down on the ground by the stream and sat against a tree close by. You reached into your bag and grabbed some of the food, unwrapping the cloth and taking a bite. You weren't hungry, you actually felt very full, but you still forced yourself to eat it. You were rejecting San's power over you.

"What the hell are you doing?" San finally said, glaring down at you with deadly eyes. You only saw it through the corner of yours, refusing to give the attention he seeks.

"Finally talking, are we?" You replied calmly.

San sat down in front of you and you further craned your neck to watch the stream instead of him. "I'm eating whilst admiring the stream. Is that such a problem?"

"No. But why are you eating?" He muttered, trying to cover the rage that was building up inside.

"A girl has to eat, has she not?"

Suddenly your eyes were pulled away from the stream by San's forceful grip on your jaw.

"Spit it out." He said, punctuating every word. His eyes were darker than you had ever seen them, "Spit it out!" He yelled, but you unconsciously swallowed it, no one had ever yelled at you like that and your heart beat started to race.

He threw you to the floor, leaving you a shaking, spluttering mess. He breathed deeply, "How dare you mock my power?" He crouched down by your head, before grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling your face up to meet his. "Why won't you just submit to me?!" He moved closer, "Huh?!"

You had to get to the castle, that's why you couldn't submit. Wait, why am I going to the castle again? Your eyes widened, and you only managed to slip out a small 'Roslyn' before he dropped you to the floor again. You clutched at the grass underneath your palms at the thought of her. She was slaving away to a powerful demon, whilst you were just messing with one. You hated to admit it but you were having fun and getting him angry was making you feel certain feelings for him that you had only felt briefly with Hongjoong, except this time it was in overdrive. You had submitted to San but not in the way he expected. It had happened again. You had forgotten about Roslyn, but you weren't even in a trance this time.

No more games. Roslyn was all that mattered, and you had forgotten about her all because you wanted to tease a demon. You should have been at the castle straight away. You shouldn't have played San's pathetic games. You shouldn't have forgotten that all he sees you as is food, and not a potential love interest. You were appalled, but only with yourself. Fighting against his demon nature and his starvation must be so hard. Where has your compassion gone, you fool.

"I'm sorry, San." You whimpered from the floor, as tears started to roll down your cheeks. "I'm really sorry. I forgot all about Roslyn. I just wanted to mess with you since it was so fun seeing you get worked up. Yet, you still held back from eating me even when you could have." You clutched your hair desperately trying to cope with your realisation. "I never even thanked you for making this deal! I'm just as weak as all the other humans. I'm sorry for thinking I was better than you. I'm really not. Not at all."

"No. You're not." San replied calmly. You unclenched your hands and steadied your sobbing slightly, looking up at him the same time he looked down at you. He sat on the grass next to you and motioned for you to get up with his head. Your arms pushed you enough to sit up without the support of the them, but your shame made it hard to look at him. "However, you're not like other humans. Not at all." Your eyes widened and you cautiously raised them to his. "The amount of people that come to the gates from other villages and instantly submit to me is practically uncountable. They don't try to strike up a deal or fight back. Sure, it's nice, but it does get boring. Y/n," he placed a hand on your jaw and gently caressed the new bruises with his thumb, "I haven't met anyone who has made me feel so angry and threatened before. You were so determined, and no matter how much it pissed me off that you stabbed me, I couldn't deny that I was impressed." He took his hand from your face. "That's why I made this deal. I gave you this chance and best be sure that I'm gonna keep my end of it, having been starved and all. So, don't you dare give up now."

"Thank you, San. And, once again, I'm sorry." He nodded his head, but he wasn't being rude. It was more of a "no problem" nod than an "as you should" nod.

You sat in a heavy silence for a moment, the air so tense, it was almost suffocating. You felt the need to break it, but San's hand flying up into the air stopped you. He caught one of the little flying orbs by the wings.

"Heal her." He commanded, letting go of the wings and letting it flutter around your head. The pain in your jaw eased as you watched it zoom off into the woods once more. "Don't think I did that because I like you. I just knew you wouldn't stop complaining about it if I didn't heal it."

"What was that?" You ignored him, eyes trained on the pathway it left on, and mouth wide open.

San followed where you looked before returning his gaze to you. "One of the many types of forest sprites. Those ones heal." He laughed gently, "Let me guess? Remarkable?"

"Quite so." You said, in awe of the lack of pain you felt.

In the reflection of the stream, you saw a red blob surfacing. You looked up to see that the moon was entering the sky.

You stood up immediately, "What?! How can that be possible?!"

San joined you, squinting at the new blood moon growing larger over the tree line. "Huh. Looks like it's becoming night."

How could the day have gone by so fast? You looked at him completely perplexed but your face soon dropped when you saw how scared San looked like he had just seen some sort of untold horror. You grabbed his shoulders and made him face you. "San. Why is it night?"

He looked up at you, "I-I think we should find you somewhere to stay." He started heading off and you quickly caught up.

"San, you can't just say that. You have to tell me why the day has just vanished." You yelled, but it didn't seize his walking. "San!"

"The Demon King knows you're here. Of course he does. But he doesn't want that. So he's pushing forward the days so that you have less time to get to the castle. Or ... at least that's what I think."

You sighed, still pushing your legs to their limit to catch up with his pace. "Surely that would be a good thing for you?-"

"No." He sharply cut you off, stopping in his tracks. "If the King knows where you are then all the other demons are going to know where you are, and that means that we're gonna have quite a few guests tonight and I'm not dealing with that. So you better start moving your ass or I'm gonna start dragging you."

You quickened your pace rushing after him.

❁

It wasn't long before you stumbled upon a small wooden cabin in the middle of some larger trees. The sun was setting fast and you instinctively ran up the creaky staircase to get to the door.

San almost materialized in front of you. "No. Not this one." He whispered.

You stared at him in utter bewilderment, "You have to be the most confusing person I have ever met!" He shushed you with a finger on your lips.

"Quiet. She'll hear you." He said quietly, but this time with more emphasis.

You slapped his hand away, "So first you wanted me to find a place to stay. No. To hide. And now you're telling me I can't when there is a perfectly good place right here."

"No, y/n, you can't go in there! I won't be able to protect you!"

"That's enough. This my best shot at surviving right now. So, I'm entering!" You gestured to the right with your head, "Move." He did.

You knocked on the door, the shrill of the night time bugs echoing through the trees. It was darker than the first night, only a few beams of deep red penetrating the canopy.

You looked out in to the black wilderness. Demons could be watching you right now and you would have no idea.

The door opened gently. On the other side stood a small old woman, her long messy hair was tied in a loose ponytail that draped down her back, which was clad in a tattered knitted cloak.

"Good evening, ma'am. I'm ever so sorry to intrude, but me and my fri-" you looked over to see that San had gone and you quickly looked back to the old woman, "uh ... I need somewhere to stay for the night." She eyed you with caution and you knew you would have to find a way to convince her. "I have demons after me and need to escape."

She opened the door a bit more and stood slightly taller, "And how do you know that I am not a demon?"

"Hope, ma'am." you said, "Only hope."

"Very well," she said, "And how am I to trust you?"

"You are just going to have to, ma'am. I have no way to prove myself, so if you don't trust me I won't force you."

She smiled, and opened the door fully allowing you to enter.

Inside the room was a bed with ragged sheets, a wooden table with a single chair, and a large expanse of cupboards hanging open on broken hinges.

Inside them were varying bottles full of different coloured liquids and other types of herbs and spices. There was no sign of real food, which meant that she was still affected by the demons within the forest. That, or she fed off humans. No. She wouldn't have questioned me intensely if she was. She's obviously scared. Best make a good impression.

"So, how long have you been in the Labyrinth." You asked her as she fumbled with some of the things in her cupboards.

"About seventy years." She said, quickly turning around to face you. "What about you?"

"Two days. How on Earth did you survive all that time here?" She looked worried, and she went back to fixing the jars and bottles. "Why did the demons not kill you?"

She was silent, you thought you had pried too far, when she slowly looked over her left shoulder. The shoulder that held a bite mark that you hadn't noticed before.

"There are many weird wonders in this world, and I have been subject to many. But the worst has been that boy."

Your interest was definitely peaked, but you tried hard to suppress it, and covered it with a more sympathetic look.

She continued, "I entered the Labyrinth in hopes of dying. I had no friends, and my family hated me. There was more to it than just that, but I'll keep it short. I wanted nothing more than to get rid of that suffering. But that boy ... he knew. He knew I wanted to die and so he ... "

You placed a hand on top of hers, "Take your time. You don't have to tell me if you don't wan-"

"No!" She yelled, slapping your hand off of hers. "That boy took a bite out of my soul that I will never retrieve. He took my humanity and my small chance of happiness. This-" she pointed to the bite mark, "This converted me into one of them. However, I did not obtain their abilities, only their thirst. He banished me to the woods, knowing that no human would ever get this far, for me to quench that thirst, or-" she pulled the dagger from your bag, "to end my suffering."

She placed the handle of the dagger in your hand and the blade to her neck. You looked at her horrified. You couldn't kill someone, not even if they were begging for it.

"No way! I can't just kill you!" You yelled, trying to pull the blade away.

She held your arm firmly, causing you to stumble back into the cupboards and a jar to fall down and smash on top of your hand that lay on the desk below. You pulled your hand away and fell to the floor. There were shards of glass sticking out at jagged angles from your skin, your blood covering the rest of it.

You looked up at the old woman to see her staring at your hand, her eyes turning from her warm hazel to a bright red.

She pounced on to you, pinning you to the floor. Panic rushed through you body as she tried to reach for your bleeding hand, her jaw dislocating so she could gape her mouth even wider.

You stared into her eyes and saw her plee, her desire to die, and the pain she was going through by not having control over her actions. It was unbearable.

You grabbed the dagger and stabbed it right into her neck, watching as she fell backward choking and spluttering on the blood that gargled in her throat. Tears fell from her eyes as a peacful smile graced her face. She dropped to the floor, completely lifeless, but the joy she felt was still present in her eyes.

"What have I done?" You whispered, completely horrified. "Please, forgive me."

A slow clap sounded from behind you, and you swiftly turned to see the demon from the clearing. Wooyoung.

"What a spectacle! I think I might just shed a tear." His laugh echoed around the small cabin and you stiffened with fear.

Your breaths quickened as he took slow steps towards you, crouching down and taking a good look at your face.

"You're such a pretty thing, I'm so annoyed San got to you first."

San. Where was he?

You swallowed, "Where is he?" You asked, pulling your face away from Wooyoung's as he inched closer.

"He ran away as soon as you entered the cabin. Couldn't bare to face her again." Your heart started racing. Was San the boy that made her suffer like this? "Or should I say isn't allowed to."

You took a heavy breath, the whole situation hurtling you into an almost unbearable state of fear.

"You know, if I knew any better, I'd say you actually like him." He teased, his body never stopping from following you along the floor, trying to get as close as possible, only to have you shuffle away.

"Well, do you?" You asked, feeling quite perturbed by his baseless assumption.

"Do I what, baby?"

"Know better?" He laughed at that, moving in closer and smirking when you tried to move back and were met with the wall.

"I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have a human attracted to me by my demon charm. However, since I hardly ever get to see any, save the children the Demon King enslaves, I've never got to experience it."

He moved in closer to your face, his lips grazing yours. You looked away, "Why don't you see them often? Don't you work at the gates?" You knew he didn't from the conversation he had with San in the clearing, but he couldn't know that.

"I did, but the King was so impressed by the state I put that old hag in that he invited me to join his royal guard." He said, grabbing your chin, making him face you again. You were oddly relieved that San wasn't the one that ruined the lady's life. "Come on, baby. San is a weak guy. I'm so much better than him."

His lips came in contact with yours for only a second before a familar voice, and one you have been waiting for, piped up from the doorway.

"Wooyoung." His head whipped around and you could only move your eyes to see San as your jaw was still in his grip. "I don't remember giving you permission to have a taste of my girl." Wooyoung laughed, standing up and walking over to him.

San stood only slightly taller than Wooyoung, his demeanour powerful and raging. "I'm glad you could join us, Sannie!" He grabbed his cheek and San quickly slapped it away.

"I'm sure you wouldn't like the King to find out that you forgot about our little demon rule?" San said, his eyes narrowing with a sharpness you hadn't seen before.

"The etiquette? It's more of a guideline, don't you think?"

"No, I don't. I don't think the King does either." San's voice lowered, "I also don't think he'd like the fact that you said that."

Wooyoung laughed again but it soon faded when he noticed that San's seriousness was unchanging. "He wouldn't believe you, San." He teased him, but he remained unphased.

"Of course. Why would the King believe the all seeing guardian of the gates, hmm?" Wooyoung's confidence started to falter and San's teasing smirk disappeared, "Get out."

He didn't need to be told twice, as he barged past San's broad shoulder to leave the cabin.

You sat in silence, watching as San crouched down to the old lady's body. He placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, "May you rest in peace, you will suffer no more."

You moved your body up next to his, "Wooyoung said you knew her." San didn't take his eyes off of the body.

"I lost my job in the royal guard because of her. I said that Wooyoung should have just eaten her, and let her die. I suppose I thought it was too cruel. But my opinion went against the King's and I was forced into Wooyoung's previous job. I'm sorry I left you, there was a charm placed on this cabin that made sure I couldn't enter. They knew I would go and kill her. Didn't mean that I couldn't see her, of course. All the pain, the teasing of other demons. I even tried to bring her parts of my kills to try and nourish her, but they always faded to nothing outside. But, hey I tried, right?" He let out a sad laugh, before looking at you. "You probably think I'm soft now, and you would be right." He looked at the ground shamefully.

"Don't say it like it's a bad thing. I think that's a beautiful trait. I love people like that."

You took his hand and placed it in yours. You didn't know what you were doing, but comforting him just felt right in that moment. "You did the right thing, San."

"So did you. Thank you, y/n."

He looked down and noticed the blood still dripping from your hands. "I'll heal that. Then, I'll clean this up and you should rest."

Your eyes followed him as he went into the cupboard and grabbed one of the bottles, opening it and pouring it onto your hand. The blood cleared up and the glass came loose falling to the floor. The scars, however, still remained.

San took your hands in his and lifted you from the ground. Your legs felt slightly weak and you took hold of his arms firmly.

He placed you gently down on the bed before heading to the lady on the floor. He picked her up and left the room, only to return later without her. He looked different though, his skin wasn't as pale, his eyes less dark. He looked almost human.

When he went to go and clean the blood and glass off the floor, he had returned back to his normal look.

Whether it was just your mind tricking you or not. San definitely wasn't as evil as you thought. His personality shifts so drastically, yet his softer side seems more genuine. You couldn't wrap your head around it.

"Let's not make it a habit to stare at me before you go to sleep. It makes me feel too exposed." He said, stoically, turning back to his work.

You managed a small apology, relaxing back into the bed more.

You let your eyelids fall closed, but sleep didn't seem to take you as quickly this time. There was far too much to recover from. Physically and mentally. You don't understand anything well enough to overcome it. However, there is one thing you know for certain.

This Labyrinth is going to make you lose your mind.

To be continued

Author's note: HOLY LORD! This chapter is very long, so thanks for sticking with it to get here! Thank you very much for reading! ❤❤

#ateez headcanons #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez reactions #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez san #san x reader #san x y/n #choi san

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

FORGETFUL T.D.

Summary: You were maybe a little too forgetful at times, after all these years, Tim still wasn’t used to it.

Warning: Fluff

A/N: This may or may not be based off the fact that I do in fact forget that I do not have 20/20 vision.

Also I’ve finally got back to my laptop after a week and let me tell you did I miss writing 😫 some posts might be delayed, sorry 😭

Word Count: 1.9k

Tim hated how forgetful you were.

He hated that that you forgot the simplest of things like taking the trash out or emptying the dishwasher. You forgot dates, when you were supposed to meet up with him, and birthdays. Your memory was horrible, you didn't wish for it to be, but you couldn't help it. Forgetting things has been a problem your whole life.

Hell, you would even forget the punchline to the joke that you were telling.

What you lacked in memory, you made up for in fighting. You had been a vigilante for far longer than Tim had. Where he was an amazing detective, you were a lethal weapon. The two of you together was the perfect combination when it came to crime fighting. It was why Batman always set the two of you together.

Bruce Wayne never adopted you as a kid - you had your own great parents. However, after figuring out that Barbra Gordon - a family friend of yours - was Batgirl, you somehow figured out the rest of the gang. Bruce reluctantly agreed to train you. However, he learned pretty quickly just how forgetful you were.

It was frustrating at first. He was the world's greatest detective, a great memory had to be part of the gig. However, he learned to accommodate to you, that was how you got paired up with Tim when he joined the team. The two of you were close, too close to be just friends.

It was only after a few months of constantly working together did the two of you start dating as well. A year after that, the two of you moved in together. That was when Tim really started to realize just how forgetful you really were. As much as it drove him crazy, he also found it too adorable.

Tim got into the habit of leaving sticky notes everywhere for you to remember. You loved to read his little notes - even though they were to remind you to do something that you didn't even want to do in the first place. He always left a little heart at the bottom of it.

Half the time you didn't even have to say anything and Tim was already handing you something that you misplaced. He was your blessing, your savior.

You could be his downfall sometimes. On missions, you forced yourself to go over the plan several times so that it would stick. Thankfully, for the most part you were pretty good at remembering what needed to be done and when. You knew the costs of what would happen if you messed up and made sure that a failed mission was never on you.

That didn't mean you would forget the small things, like restocking weapons and gadgets. There were a few times that you would be out fighting on the streets and run out of batarangs to throw. It would leave you in trouble and someone would have to come give you a hand. Thankfully, it was never a big enough mistake to have someone's life taken.

You and Tim were well into adult hood and had been dating for years. As you got older, the more you realized how much you loved him. It was like everyday there was something new about him that you fell in love with even more.

That week, Tim was already upset with you because you had forgot about the date night that he had planned. You tried your best to make it up to him, but he was still rather upset about it. You had tried every trick in the book - puppy eyes, the pout, doing everything that he asked above and beyond, even treating him with home cooked meals every day. None of it worked.

"Tim," you sighed. He was working at his desk on his laptop, back towards you and no sign of giving you any attention. You stalked towards him, wrapping your arms over his shoulders and placing a bunch of kisses against his cheek. "Tim, I'm sorry. I know this date meant a lot to you, I didn't mean to forget about it."

"I know you didn't," Tim sighed. He turned his head slightly so you could kiss his lips this time. "I know you never mean to forget, it's just... I had a lot planned."

"What can I do to make up for it?" You asked. After trying all week, you were out of ideas. Tim didn't really answer you, so you had taken it upon yourself to sit on his lap so you had all your attention. "Timmy, please."

"Let's get ready for patrol," Tim suggested. He gave you a quick peck on the lips before grabbing you by the legs and carrying you into where you kept your suits. If he was still giving you kisses then he couldn't have been that mad. There was only once that he went three days without so much as a cheek kiss.

Reluctantly, you followed Tim's request to go out on patrol without another plea to get him to forgive you. This wasn't the first time that you had forgotten about a date with him, he was never this upset about it before. It was best not to worry about it while you were out in the city, distractions were never good in Gotham.

You and Tim were perched on a rooftop that overlooked the city. It wasn't until you were up there, did you realize that once again you had forgotten something: your contacts.

Lucky for you, your eyesight wasn't terrible. It was bad enough that you shouldn't drive without your glasses but you could easily make it through a day in your house without them. However protecting Gotham while having to make precise, metric moves? That was something that you shouldn't have forgotten contacts for.

Since Tim was already mad at you for forgetting one thing that week, you decided that it was best not to say anything. You were too far from home to just go grab a pair and you didn't exactly carry any on you - after tonight it was probably a good idea to throw a pair into your belt in case this happened again.

The night was fine at first, you and Tim took down a few thugs with ease. You didn't miss your contacts too much and thankfully whenever you threw a weapon, Tim didn't notice how bad your aim was. It was brutal had many times you missed your target and you were sure that the people you were fighting noticed.

You and Tim were back on the rooftop scouting the city. Tim spotted another crime from down below and pulled out his grappling gun to get there. You had done the same, and aimed it in the same spot that Tim had his. However, without your contacts, you had missed entirely and you were already jumping from the roof.

It took you less than a second to realize that you were free-falling. Lucky for you, it took Tim even less time.

"(Y/N)!" Tim yelled, not caring that he used your real name. Tim had already landed in the spot that he had desired to and thanks to his incredible reflexes, he had managed to shoot his grappling hook back towards you. You were meters from hitting the ground before Tim had snatched you up.

The two of you stood on the ledge, hearts racing from what had just happened. You nearly died, all because you were stupid enough to forget your contacts.

Tim didn't care that you were on the job, he pulled you in for a long, panicked kiss. He swore that you could hear his heart racing through his chest. You had come to a lot of close calls but this was completely different than anything you had gone through. Never had a near death been your own fault.

"What the hell was that?" Tim still held your face in his hands, scared to ever let you go again.

"I, uh," you looked down in shame. It was ridiculous and you didn't want to admit the truth. "I forgot my contacts at home."

Tim's eyes closed and an annoyed breath escaped him. You could only stand there and watch as he walked away from you. Tim frustratingly paced back and forth in front of you with his hands being thrown up in the air. He was pissed at you, it was obvious.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Tim finally spoke again. "This is ridiculous, how did you forget your contacts? Why did you not say anything? You could have died right there! Do you know how heart broken I would have been? How we all would have been? Just because you forgot your contacts! I'm tired of this, (Y/N). This is getting out of hand."

"Red Robin-" You cut yourself. This wasn't the time to use your hero names, not when he was so emotional about this. "Tim. I'm sorry. You were already mad about this week and I didn't want to upset you more. I should have known better, I'm sorry. I've been trying to be better, I really am."

"Fuck, (Y/N)," Tim stalked back to you. He pulled you into a hug, a much needed one. As angry and frustrated as he was, it didn’t mean he didn’t love you and it didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. "I'm just glad you're okay, I love you."

"I love you too," You mumbled into him. "I'm going to make that date up to you, tonight, everything that I've ever done wrong. I just wish you would tell me why you were so upset this time."

Tim pulled just enough away from you that he could look into your masked eyes. The rough texture of his gloves glided against your skin but you didn't mind. "I had big plans for that night."

"What kind of plans?"

"Plans that I wanted to ask you to marry me," Tim revealed with the tiniest of smiles on his lips. He wanted this to be special, you deserved the most grand, meaningful proposal but he knew that you couldn't forgive yourself unless you knew why he was upset. This was why, Tim Drake wanted to make you his wife, and you had simply just forgotten about his plans.

"Tim," You barely whispered, shocked by his news. You crashed into him, kissing him with every ounce of love that you had. Marrying him was always something in the back of your mind, but never this early. Tim grinned into this kiss and pulled you completely flush against his body.

"Will you marry me, (Y/N) (L/N)?" Tim asked. He didn't have the ring, and he wasn't down on one knee. Hell, the two of you weren't even yourself right now - you both were in complete suit with masks on. Yet, with how dysfunctional you both were, this seemed to be more perfect than anything you could have imagined.

"Yes!" You nodded. Tears threatened to spill down your cheeks and you could barely contain the happiness in you. You kissed Tim once more. Tim couldn't wait for the day that he was going to be able to kiss you while calling you his wife.

"Just promise me you won't forget our wedding day."

#tim drake #tim drake imagine #tim drake one shot #tim drake x reader #red robin #red robin imagine #red robin one shot #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #batfam #batfam imagine #batfam one shot #fluff

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bardsingingasong · 4 years

Text

5+1 Chances to scare you

TITLE: 5+1 chances to scare you | Read on AO3

AUTHOR: Bardsingingasong | MarysseLalonde

RELATIONSHIPS: Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd

SUMMARY: Jason never scares, or that's what he says. Kyle is determined to prove the opposite.

There're 5 times tat Kyle tries to scare his boyfriend and 1 when he gets it, more or less.

WORD COUNT: 3,677

BOOKS/NETFLIX/2002 SHOW/VIDEO GAME: Batman-All Media Types, Green Lantern- All Media Types

TRIGGERS/WARNINGS: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning.

RATING: G

ADDITIONAL NOTES:

Happy Halloween!

Yeah, I know Halloween is already past, but never is too late to celebrate it!

I'm very glad to contribute to this fandom and this precious ship. I hope you enjoy these idiots in love.

As usual, I want to thank my beta, TanisVs, for her work. You're the best girl, and I love you so much!!

Friendly reminder: English isn't my first language. I'm trying to improve my English, but I have a lot of work to do. Please if you wish to comment, first of all, thank you, and least be polite, I'm doing my best.

Enjoy!

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"As if you could scare me.”

Kyle frowned, and raised his head from Jason's shoulder to look at him. It was late at night. The patrol was over, and Kyle was back on Earth for the next month. They had decided to watch a movie, specifically a horror movie.

Growing up in Gotham and being trained by Batman had made Jason think that he was immune to fear. He liked to pretend he couldn't feel that emotion in particular, but Kyle knew it best. After all, the White Lantern was linked to the emotional spectrum.

"As if you were never afraid,” Kyle bit back. "Everyone feels fear sooner or later.”

"Yes, but it didn't mean you can scare me."

Kyle moved away from Jason, leaning on the sofa to look at him. Jason had that smile of his, which means he was fooling around with Kyle.

"I will," His voice tone was firm. "I know you, I could scare you in one way or another."

Jason stared at him, his smile growing bigger while his fingers held Kyle's chin.

"Sounds like a dare." He sounded playful and sensual. He was using the tone that he knew it drove Kyle mad. He was trying to distract him. Jason probably was bored with the movie, and he was in the mood to play.

And Kyle hated taking the bait so quickly.

"Maybe it is." Kyle was digging his own grave, but he never refused a challenge no matter how absurd it was.

"I would like to see you try."

In a second, Kyle was astride Jason's lap, devouring his mouth.

"It's a dare?" Jason asked between kisses.

"Will you take it?" Jason pulled him and pressed him against his body. His hips were raised, telling Kyle what he was thinking all the time during the movie. That was a little disturbing, but Kyle could understand that it was a time since he was on Earth.

"Maybe later, when I'm not busy".

There were no more words after that. The movie continued playing in the background, but sooner rather than later, their screams of pleasure ended up covering the scare screams from the film.

Later, when they were resting at Jason's bed, Kyle began to think of his plan attack.

“You know, I think we have a ghost in the apartment.”

Jason gave him an incredulous look. He was throw away over the sofa, watching a movie with a large popcorn bowl. Kyle should have joined him, but he had claimed how much he wanted to paint.

"And you think that because... ?"

Kyle stared at him. He usually didn't care how Jason looked like an idiot from time to time, but sometimes he wished his boyfriend would take him seriously. If Jason wanted a reason, he would have one.

"Because I was working on my canvas when some of your books fell from the bookshelf."

“Are you sure it wasn't you who has made them fall?”

Kyle rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "I'm sure, because your stupid Jane Austen's books are floating everywhere, and I can't do that without my ring."

Red Hood grumbled. He left the bowl on the sofa and paused the movie before he got up. He didn’t seem not much convinced but went to the bedroom anyway. Kyle followed him. The two of them stopped in their tracks at the doorway. The room was uncoordinated, with all Kyle's paints over the bed and the floor. An easel was in front of the windows and on it the unfinished canvas. The scene could be normal, but there were some open books, floating mid-air. The books moved like someone was making them levitate. Maybe for the inexperienced eye they could look more real, but Jason wasn't a beginner. A single look was enough to know what happened there.

"If you make a single scratch on my books, it'll not matter how much I love you, you'll sleep in the streets for the rest of your Earth's days off." Jason said. He turned around and started to walk to the living room. "Put them back on the bookshelf, Rayner.”

The Lantern looked at him and back to the room.

"Aw c'mon, man! Are you serious?!" He ran after him. Jason was again on the sofa with the movie playing and the popcorn bowl on his lap. "You didn't doubt for a second."

"Who do you think I am, Ky?" He threw up a popcorn and ate it in flight. "I work with the big bat, your childish tricks could never fool me."

Kyle sighed loudly. He dropped on the couch, next to Jason, resting his head on the backrest. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jason's mocking smile. Acting like a child, the White Lantern set the bowl aside and lay down on Jason's lap, crossing his arms with a pout on his face. Immediately, Jason caressed his hair.

Almost all the time, those gestures made Kyle doubt how people could think Jason was anything but a loving person. He knew how brutal and lethal Jason could be, but it was always for a reason... most of the time. The ex-Robin was very protective of the people he loved, and his love was not easy to earn but if you got it, it would last forever.

In Kyle's opinion, the man had suffered enough to let him be imperfect. Maybe Red Hood didn't comply with Batman's code, but he was efficient, and the same hands that could skew a life they also could be affectionate.

"Just for curiosity.” Kyle said. "What gave me away?"

"Many things. Your canvas was dry, and I could see the fishing line a mile away". Jason's voice was flat, even bored, but Kyle knew him for years and he could hear a tiny, tiny, note of fun on his tone. "You'll need to be more convincing if you want to scare me, Lantern."

Kyle snorted, giving Jason a bite in his thigh. Scare Jason Todd would be more difficult than he had thought in the first place.

"OH MY GOD! JASON!"

Kyle's scream surprised him in the shower. Normally he would have ignored the Lantern while showering, but this time something sounded wrong in Kyle's voice. Jason turned off the tap and wrapped himself with a towel. If it was a joke, he would ensure that his boyfriend would have a punishment.

Jason walked towards the kitchen, leaving a trail of water behind him. He would clean it up later, when he was sure Kyle hadn't been hurt by any nonsense. If anyone could do something so stupid and end up hurting himself, it was Kyle (and Dick too, but that was another matter). Sometimes Jason would try to explain to himself how Kyle could survive in space and be part of a group like the Lantern Corps as clumsy as he was.

"It may already be import… ant."

Jason fell silent as he entered the kitchen. Kyle was standing by the counter, with a rolled-up cloth tightly covering his hand. The cloth was completely stained red, and was dripping profusely. The cutting board and the knife with which he must have been working until then were equally stained with red. At first glance, it would appear that Kyle had cut himself. Very much so. To be honest, Jason would say that was the best performance the White Lantern could do. He was even crying! He could have fooled anyone, but not Jason. Definitely not Jason, who could distinguish fake blood from the real one with his eyes closed.

Red Hood saved the prank in his mind, he would ensure that Kyle will do it again with the Outlaws. Roy's face would be epic. But for now, he stayed near the door, looking at Kyle with his arms crossed.

"That's the best you can do?" Jason's tone had no emotion, but he arched one eyebrow, revealing his amusement. Jason had left his warm shower to suffer another pitiful try from his boyfriend to scare him. He'll make Kyle paid for it later. For the moment, Jason would be satisfied with dismantling his joke. "I don't know what have you used as fake blood, but it is more liquid than real blood. Nice whack, Lantern."

"In your defense I would say that it could have been quite convincing for someone with no experience. Play the joke on Jordan or Gardner, they'll fall for it."

"What about John?"

"Steward is the smart one in your little gang. He probably won't believe it."

"Does that mean I'm an idiot too?"

Jason didn't answer. He smiled and said:

"You're going to clean up this mess and make dinner while I finish showering, got it?"

Kyle pouted but smiled after. Scare Jason was his challenge, and it would be more fun than the second Robin had thought.

"Okay, this time it has to be the final one." Kyle took the final look at his latest work: a tall ghostly figure hanging in the middle of his studio. The smell of fresh paint still hung in the air, as the last layer had not yet dried.

The first two attempts had been a total fiasco, but this time Kyle thought he could make it. He had been working tirelessly for days to finish the puppet of the ghost, covered with layers and layers of fluorescent paint that gave it a rather spooky realism.

That night, none of them would be home. Jason had patrol with the rest of the bats, and Kyle would spend the day working as a team with other Earth Lanterns. That meant the Lanterns had an excuse to drink together, and for Kyle it meant he had an alibi when his prank exploded in Jason's face.

"Okay, Kyle, you can do this."

Kyle had left home early, having left a light construction as an alarm to know when Jason was leaving. So he had come back and set the trap, placing it where Jason didn't expect to find it.

When he returned with the rest of the torches, they bombarded him with questions. Hal and Guy laughed outrageously, while John and Simon looked at him with some disapproval. On the other hand, Jessica smiled at him and gave him new ideas in case the prank didn't work.

Time passed quickly between laughs and drinks, and by the time Kyle returned home, he had forgotten his own trap.

"I'm home," he said, opening the front door.

Jason's muffled voice received him. He wasn't in sight, so Kyle thought he was probably in the bathroom. Exhausted and a little drunk, Kyle went to the bedroom to change his clothes, thinking of making a light dinner for him and his boyfriend later. Suddenly, a tall, shiny figure pounced on him. Kyle, lost in thought, had no time to turn away completely and let out a cry of surprise. The figure collapsed after hitting him, and broke into pieces on the floor.

Kyle stood extremely still, totally taken by surprise, and watched what was left of his joke that he had been working on for a whole week. His drunkenness disappeared suddenly, with the loud sound of his heart beating in his ears. Obviously, Jason hadn't fallen into her trap, but he had.

How ironic, a victim of his own plans.

"What's broken?" Jason asked, poking his head out the door.

"My dignity..."

Jason was curious, but didn't push for Kyle to tell him what had happened. Kyle looked, and was, very embarrassed, with a strong blush on his cheeks. He just cleaned up the broken pieces of the ghost without saying a word.

Later, when Kyle checked the security cameras, Jason's laughter echoed throughout. And the next day, when he woke up, the icon of an unread message was blinking on his phone. When he opened it, he found a laconic:

<Jason: 3, Kyle: 0>

Sometimes he really hated his boyfriend.

Kyle started to get discouraged. He already had three failures in his mission to scare Jason. Perhaps it was impossible, after all, Jason had been through too many traumatic experiences since he was a child to be afraid of mundane things like ghosts, blood and floating books. Kyle thought about googling. He knew that Gotham had a website where people explained and taught how to make those kinds of scary jokes and traps, not just for Halloween but in case someone wanted to make them at any time of the year. Kyle thought it was a bit disturbing. Some of the jokes were funny, but others also made him think that most people in Gotham needed to go to therapy.

"How do you make a fake cut head? And then they say this city has the highest crime rate in the country. I wonder why."

Kyle decided to try one and ended up watching all the available tutorials. They were really creepy and unpleasant, although Jason probably wasn't afraid of them either.

"But I don't lose anything by trying..."

What Kyle hadn't counted on was having to watch people hide their fake heads in the fridge. That made him feel a lot worse than knowing that he probably couldn't scare his boyfriend, because... Well, the thought of Alex had never stopped hurting him. He had learned to deal with it over time, it was true, but... No, if he was going to play that prank on Jason, he couldn't, shouldn't, even think about going near the fridge with something that simulated a human body part.

The choice of model was quite easy. He couldn't risk anyone going off the rails, so he couldn't choose anyone from Jason's immediate environment. No Waynes, no Alfred, no Outlaws, no Titans in general. So he had to use someone just as willing as he was to play those kinds of jokes. Guy Gardner was always the best choice if you were looking for a partner in crime. Kyle only needed to tell him his plan so Guy would sign up without hesitation.

Now, a large jar was on the kitchen table, and inside was a picture of Guy's head.

"I'm home!" Jason announced from the front door.

Kyle looked up from the picture he was working on and took a look at the jar. He smelled the Chinese food, Jason had brought dinner. "Kyle?"

"Here." Kyle forced himself to stay focused on his work.

Jason walked over to the couch, left a kiss on Kyle's head and went into the kitchen. Kyle needed all his willpower not to look at his reaction. But to his disappointment, Jason pretended that nothing was out of place.

"Okay, I admit I almost believed it this time," he said, calmly. Kyle put the notebook aside and looked at his boyfriend. Jason was taking out the Chinese food boxes, placing them on the counter near Guy's fake head. "Gardner is a pain in the ass, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you decided to give him his due.”

"Don't say that." Kyle leaned against the sofa, watching Jason put the food on the plates. "You should get along better with him, he's my best friend and you're my boyfriend. You get along so badly because you look so much alike."

"Even more so.” When Jason left the dishes on the table, he approached Kyle and leaned in to kiss him properly. "Anyway, it's pretty well done. Can I put it on the shelf?”

Kyle rolled his eyes. Another failed plan.

"Whatever you want. Just don't put it in the bedroom, I don't want to see my friend's head while we're having sex."

Everything had failed. Kyle had no ideas anymore, no real strength, to try and scare Jason. His boyfriend was like an iceberg, nothing seemed to scare him, and the most he could do was make him laugh at his pathetic jokes.

"Just jump after him and say 'BOH!'" Dick had said last night, when they were having dinner with Jason's brothers.

Dick's suggestion was absurd. If Jason wasn't scared of anything, he definitely wouldn't do it because of a jump scare. But in for a penny, in for a pound, he thought.

Kyle came closer to the couch, where Jason was having a nap, using his ring to float and make less noise possible. But he was distracted by the thought that he might give Jason a heart attack, until he suddenly realized that his boyfriend had opened his eyes and was staring at him. Kyle flinched.

"Tell me you're not doing what Dick told you to do." Jason said. His voice sounded sleepy and resigned.

"No?" Kyle replied. Jason raised an eyebrow, skeptical, and Kyle felt his cheeks burning. "Okay, okay! I'm out of ideas."

"Do you want one? Admit your defeat, and come here with me."

That was the last attempt and the last defeat, so Kyle decided to be content, rather than reward himself, by curling up in Jason's arms and abandoning himself to pampering.

It had to be a nightmare.

Jason searched Kyle's body, frantic and agitated, desperate to find signs of life. He held the lantern in his arms, his head tilted unnaturally, and his eyes closed.

"Please wake up, Kyle, please, please." Jason whispered.

"Jay..." He heard Roy, who put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tightly in a gesture intended to be comforting.

The other Lanterns of the Earth landed in front of him. Jason didn't need to look at them to know how they felt. He could hear Jessica's grasp, and he was pretty sure that sound was Gardner hitting something.

That couldn't be happening.

"Jason."

Jason ignored that voice, more focused on stroking Kyle's cheek. His skin was cold, and it shouldn't be. Kyle hated the cold, he always wrapped himself in a lot of blankets when he was in Jason's flat.

"Jason." The same voice called him again.

This time, a firm hand grabbed his arm. Red Hood looked up and met Hal Jordan, the man who had once argued with Batman about how Jason was fucking his beautiful little brother.

"Let it be." Jordan said.

Jason frowned.

"I'm not going to leave him! He's hurt, he needs help!" Red Hood replied, angry.

Jason saw compassion in Jordan's eyes, and he hated him. Why did he feel sorry for him instead of helping Kyle? No one around him was moving a finger, what was wrong with them?

"Jason, he's gone." Roy said.

"He's right here."

"Kyle's dead, Jason." Batman's voice echoed in his head.

"Poor little broken Robin. Did you lose something?" He knew that voice. It was the Joker, chasing him wherever he went. "Maybe if he hadn't been near you, he'd still be alive."

His singing voice made Jason feel sick. Batman was right, Kyle was dead. And the clown was also right, if he had been more attentive, maybe, maybe Kyle wouldn't have had to intervene and...

Kyle was dead because of him.

"Jason."

Someone was calling him, but Jason ignored him. I had to help Kyle, I had to do something. He felt a pang of horrible guilt crushing him to the ground.

"Jason."

The voice was loud. He knew it. It was sweet and quiet, like Kyle's voice when he convinced him to stay home on a rainy day, and drink hot chocolate until they couldn't take it anymore. He felt a wave of affection. That had been a good time.

"Jason, please wake up."

Jason opened his eyes. He could feel his heart beating strongly against his ears.

"Come on, honey, breathe. It was a nightmare."

Jason closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled, trying to do it as slowly as possible. When he became aware of his surroundings, he felt someone beside him. A hand was tracing soft circles on his chest, making him feel much more comfortable and calm. A calm voice spoke intelligible words of comfort.

When Jason finally opened his eyes and got used to the twilight, he saw Kyle next to him. He looked very worried, but was smiling softly, surely relieved that Jason had finally calmed down.

"Hey." Jason mumbled.

"Hey." Kyle replied. "Are you okay?"

"I'm feeling better." It was going to take Jason a while to recover, but he would work on it.

"It was just a nightmare." Kyle repeated, still anguished.

Yes, it had been a nightmare, but it wasn't just that, Jason wanted to say.

All of Jason's nightmares were hard.

Sometimes the dream was about his own death, other times it was about the death of his loved ones. None of them were better than the other, all of them made Jason feel like a wreck for a while.

"You were dead in my arms," he whispered.

Kyle bit his lip. He felt many emotions bubbling up inside Jason, but (sadly) fear was the predominant one. Kyle curled up on his side, resting his head on Jason's chest. Jason moved to put his arm around Kyle, keeping him close to him.

"I know he was trying to scare you, but that's not how he wanted to do it. Kyle felt Jason's laughter under his cheek as he pressed him a little closer to his body.

"I'll give you that." He said. "But I prefer all the other times, they were much more fun than... this."

They were silent for a while. Kyle began to feel sleepy, although he knew Jason wouldn't fall asleep, at least for the rest of the night. Then... he heard him.

"I love you."

Kyle smiled, barely surprised, but delighted. He felt it, he felt his love overcoming his fear at full speed.

"I know."

Jason mumbled, with a snort.

"Don't quote Star Wars, nerd."

They burst out laughing almost at once. In the end, Jason had gotten scared, though in the way Kyle would have wanted. It didn't matter though, they were together, they loved each other.

And that was the most important thing.

#jaykyle #kylejay #jason todd #kyle rayner #red hood #green lantern #white lantern #DC comics #batman #my fanfiction #link to ao3

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kaioken16 · 4 years

Text

Unspoken Affection

Mallek Week 2021 - Day 3

Day 3: AU day (Bloodswap AU) Word count: 2544 Rating: Teens and Up Character(s): Mallek Adalov, Original Character, Diemen Xicali

AO3 link

A/N: This is a sequel to a entry I wrote for last year’s Mallek Week titled��‘Friend or Foe’ for a purple blood!Mallek and my OC, you can read it here. CW: mentions of blood, injury, violence, and death. (side note, the bold text are flashbacks scenes.)

Summary: Mallek smiles as he watches him, lost in his thoughts as he comes to a conclusion regarding the human that had been under his care for the last year...

You sit there on your couch, you feel a sense of content as you were always relaxed around these two. After all, you knew you didn’t have to put a front or a shield around them as opposed to the rest of your crew.

You can’t help but stare at them from the corner of your eyes. Zack was cleaning a nasty cut that Diemen got earlier after a fall, your friend was always durable but he wasn’t invincible. And of course, the human’s medical care always overtook everything and he insisted that he clean and wrap up the wound.

He was applying some kind of ointment that he made from a plant that grew far off in the outglut. As you know at least 68% of Alternia’s plantlife was lethal in one way or another from poisonous to literal troll-eating traps. But this plant secreted a fluid that had something Zack called ‘antiseptic’ properties and so he used one of his strange alien tools to combine the fluid with some sopor slime to make this special formula which was perfect for cuts and wounds.

It was great. But it stings like the acid rain that falls over Alternia or getting attacked by wasp lusii.

“Ah!” Diemen flinches when the other presses the cloth dipped in the solution against Diemen’s cut.

“Stop squirming, or I’ll have to start all over again.” He tells Diemen, as Zack carefully cleans the wound, the piece of cotton fabric was soaking up the dark crimson.

“You don’t gotta worry about it-!” He let out another yelp in pain. You can’t help but smile. Not that you were smiling at the sounds of Diemen’s pain but rather just happy…

You’re happy to be around them.

Things had been crazy since you met Zack last sweep.

That chance encounter where you saved him from those rival subjugglators. From that point on you were inseparable, what was supposed to be a few days turned to weeks, then months. He was something different, obviously being an alien had that glamour to it. All trolls were different too, but also similar at the same time, but Zack wasn’t a troll…

Everything about him was foreign, his appearance, his nature. There probably wasn’t another like him anywhere else on Alternia. He was a curious being to you, yeah he bled a candy red blood, but aside from that, he had many interesting qualities.

He was strong but fragile.

You knew that it would take little effort from someone of your build to crush him with their bare hands, and he knew that too, and yet… How many times did he throw himself into harm’s way to protect you or Diemen and a complete stranger? Even when the odds were stacked against him.

But you knew that his strength was beyond just the physical sense, he had the strength of heart. He was so compassionate, kind, fierce, brave. Even when he was scared, like genuinely terrified he was honest about it.

Sometimes when you look at him, you would honestly see like some fragile lost purrbeast. Those big yellow eyes filled with such pure innocence, he’s the kind of guy that would be an enemy even after they tried to kill him. Someone like him would never have lasted this long on Alternia without you. So you took some precautions when he had to venture outside…

Zack was sitting on the couch, and Mallek was knelt in front of him, on the ground beside him was a small makeup kit that he and many other subjugglators used for their face paint.

He had carefully painted the unique pattern worn by him and members of his crew. Mallek had gotten some of the old clothes that he simply outgrew, a hoodie that originally has his sign but he graffitied it with various art and tags used by his gang, some purple jeans, and plain white trainers.

It wasn’t too big or Zack too tight, but it kinda hung off him in a cute way. He had also given him some purple gloves, and finally, a bandana that was gonna wrap around Zack’s face.

“Alright, just one last final detail…” Mallek says as he grabs a set of fake detailed horns, curved shaped and wielded to a band, that only had a strap on the end to tighten. He then carefully puts around Zack’s head and clicks the lock-in.

He pulls the hood over Zack’s head and voila!

“There... all done. Now, all we gotta do is get something to hide your face, and then you’re good to go.” Mallek smiles, admiring his handiwork, he grabs a mirror to let Zack see.

“Cool, I could definitely pass for a troll dressed as a clown.” Zack was impressed, it was perfect, between only being able to go outside at night, and most purplebloods always wearing this paint, he could pass as one of them.

“Yeah. But still the same rule. You stay right beside me, don’t leave my sight, or don’t go out alone.” Mallek was very clear as it was still risky for Zack to go out by himself at least with this clothing he’s covered up completely and if he should somehow bleed the red will be hidden.

“Okay. Makes sense, I won’t leave your side.” Zack nods as Mallek blushes faintly.

“R-right, let's cover your face up.” He looks around until his eyes land on the fresh purple fabric that was a custom order from a friend, it was worn by a few crew members and would wear it sometimes. He wraps it around the human’s face, tying a knot at the back.

That was a clever idea on your part, and so far now has caught on, you were careful when taking Zack outdoors. It was a pain and sometimes you thought it could be frustrating for him, but it was for his own good and he understood that too.

Because let’s be honest you know that on his own he would last about an hour or so. And that’s if he laid low and avoided others. You really don’t know what possessed you to keep him, after saving him and giving him a place to crash for a couple of days you could’ve easily let him go on his way. But no.

You told him he could stay for as long as he needed. Obviously, he was intimidated by you, but you couldn’t really blame him. Look at you, you stood a glorious 8ft tall, between your aggressive clothing, intimidating face paint, and the fact that you were armed to literal teeth. It was no wonder he was initially wary of you.

But he wasn’t afraid of you. More like he stared at you with awe and it was due to the fact that your appearance didn’t match your personality after all. You had been affectionately referred to by many who got to know you on a personal level as the most calm-headed, least murderous purpleblood.

You had always had control of the raging seas that inside of you, in fact, that’s what made you more dangerous. Controlled rage was more effective and wild, you know exactly how to inflict the right amount of pain and how to swiftly deal with your opponent.

Taking a life wasn’t something that you were familiar with.

But Zack… He wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Not to say that he couldn’t fight and that he couldn’t kill someone, especially with those freaky powers of his. It’s that he wouldn’t kill or even like to fight for that matter.

Those hands of his… They were made to help, to care for, loving hands that always soothed you and anyone else they touched.

Your hands… You’ve inflicted pain, they’ve been stained with blood, bruised from throwing punches You were no stranger to violence after all.

Zack was worried, it had been so long since Mallek left to deal with “business” as he called it. Of course, Zack knew that was code for his gang’s activity or dealing with a dispute with another gang. Normally when Mallek left he would come back in a couple of hours, with a few cuts and a hoodie stained with blood that wasn’t his own.

But it had been at least 6 hours since he left and he hadn't messaged in that time and he always checked in with Zack. He was so tempted to go out and look for him, but where would he look? Besides, it was dangerous to go out without his disguise but Zack wasn’t ready to waste time getting that all together.

He’s standing in front of the door, the only thing between him and the outside. His hand reached for the handle, it was a very foolish, dangerous move he was about to make, but he was gonna do it anyway. He couldn’t stand around and just do nothing. Suddenly he grips the handle and pulls it open, and waiting for him on the other side was Mallek!

He stood there, his clothing torn apart, stained by blood, his face was bloody and fresh with bruises and cuts, purple trickling down his lip. He looks like hell as Zack just stands there staring at him, the purpleblood just looks at him but then starts to sway his body, taking a single step as he then collapses onto Zack who manages to catch him. “Mallek! H-hey! Mallek?!” Zack cries out to him but it’s no use as he’s already passed out.

Zack somehow managed to get Mallek to the couch, thankfully he was still breathing, just unconscious. Thankfully he didn’t have any serious wounds, and he knows that he’ll be okay, he could heal from this. And yet, that didn’t ease his heart, he feels so helpless as Mallek lays there, so all you can do is just sit there, holding his hand tightly until he wakes up.

...

“I don’t like fighting, or hurting someone… But I get it. Here is your world, it’s kill or be killed, death and violence are the norms here.” Zack sighs, before looking over to Mallek.

“And you, every day you have to face death, from the drones to other trolls, the climate!” Mallek knows this all, of course, it wasn’t news to him after all, it was just the way of things.

“Yeah, this place is designed to make monsters… Not enough good people, or people living in fear of accepting it. Survival of the fittest and all that nonsense. But you don’t gotta worry about it… We’re all used to it, we were born in it.”

The human’s expression dampens, it bothers him how much Mallek was just okay with all this. “I’m sorry. But I can’t accept it. I wish I could do more… If there was more I could for you, and the others.”

Mallek just stares at him, he doesn’t say anything at first. He chuckles. “You don’t have to apologize. This has nothing to do with you, it wasn’t your fault our world is like this.”

“It’s very cute…” He smiles at Zack, gently touching his forehead. His action causes a reaction from Zack making his cheeks heat up, darkening with a shade of blush.

Maybe human beings as a whole were cute, but truthfully it was more so your own biased feelings towards him. But after that incident and then the conversation between you two all those months ago, you came to the decision to ensure that the ugliness of violence, bloodshed, and death would never reflect through his eyes. Though that was easier said than done, being the leader of a gang, and constantly fighting after subjugglators for territory and drone attacks.

You know that there were those who couldn’t be reasoned with, if they learned of Zack’s existence, he would be hunted for his blood color by various trolls for many gruesome purposes. And he was precious to you, important and you would protect him, along with all those who you cherished. No matter what.

“There, all done.” Zack finishes wrapping the bandages around Diemen’s arm, the shortest of the three examines with his arm before smiling at the human.

“Gee thanks.” Diemen spreads his fingers around, shaking his arm slightly.

“Try to be more careful in the future.” Zack instructs Diemen who is just rubbing his bandages a little, Zack then holds out his fist and Diemen responds appropriately as they bump fists.

Another grin spreads across your face. Diemen then runs off, something about getting some food and that he would be right back. And you know by the food he meant nothing but hot dogs. Now it’s just the two of you, and Zack then glances over to you and notices you smiling, and returns the expression. He then approaches you, and sits beside you on the couch, instinctively you pull him close, throwing your arm around him.

He closes his eyes, a warm smile. Since you were sure that Diemen was gone, and it was just the two of you, you then pull Zack up onto your lap, his arms wrap around your neck, his head against your chest. You enjoyed having him close to you, it was mutually comforting to the both of you, he had told you that he always felt safe like this, from that first meeting when you literally picked off the ground and carried him home with him.

“Are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.” He asks you, his voice was a little slow, peaceful even.

“I’m okay. Just thinking about stuff, no need to worry.” You reply back to him, speaking in a soft, hush tone.

“If you say so.” Zack responds, he was probably trying not to pry you think, but you know that he tends to worry.

“You know… The chances are that Diemen will probably get another random injury within the next few days right?” You make a joke at the expense of Diemen’s usual careless nature when it came to him getting minor injuries or just getting into trouble.

“Ha. Yeah… I figured as much.” Zack chuckles.

You look at him, giving him a little squeeze. “Yeah, but still I know it’s pointless to tell you not to, you always treat mine, Diemen, and some of the guys when we get injured whether from an accident or fighting some assholes. And that’s who you are.”

That was one of the many things that you loved about Zack. His kind nature, the way he cared for everyone, it was such a warm feeling, a light that welcomed everyone he interacted with. Maybe that was the reason you were so set on protecting him, driven by this need to keep him safe and ensure that while remains with you that no harm would come to him.

You got lost in your thoughts again, and you look down to see that Zack has fallen asleep on you. You can feel your face warm up with blush when he nuzzles against your chest. Seriously, this was adding more to your theory on the cuteness of humans, but honestly, it was more that you found him so cute. You smile, gently stroking his hair with your claws, laying back on the couch to get more comfortable.

#mallekweek2021 #mallekweek #mallek week 2021 #mallek adalov #original character #diemen xicali #hiveswap #hiveswap friendsim #hiveswap act 2 #hiveswap mallek #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hiveswap fanfiction #bloodswap mallek #purpleblood mallek #blood swap au #mallek week day 3 #oc x canon

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heartless-error · 5 years

Text

Dreams

Fandom: DC, Batman

Pairing: Jason Todd x Tim Drake (JayTim)

Rating: Explicit, sexual themes, NSFW

Other link(s): AO3

Once it's a chance, twice is a coincidence and third time is a pattern. Rather a problem, at least for Jason.

He hadn't been surprised the first time it happened, if he was honest with himself he could have seen that coming, given how betrayed and blessed equally he felt when he returned to Gotham and couldn't look away from Tim Drake.

But one thing was dreaming about fucking Tim couple of times and other was dream's world reminding him every night about the sexual and romantic unresolved tension between them.

He just wanted to explode things, dammit.

Dreams

The first time it happened, Jason was not really surprised.

It was, in a certain way, but if he was honest with himself it was something that he could have been expected. Especially considering how his eyes had been glaring almost instinctively toward the object of his desires and the events that have been occurred in the recent months since his return to Gotham.

At the beginning he was not even aware of what and who was dreaming exactly, but the dream was recreating slowly in a haze which seemed to have darkened his surroundings.

The world had gone off around him and his partner, he didn’t know where he was or if he should worry about whether the bed in which he was, was his or not, but he doesn’t care at all and if the owner of the room doesn’t care about the clothes scattered around the room, he neither. Especially when he just wanted to feel more of the sensations the other body just gave him at his mercy, his warmth, his movements and how they melt on the sheets enjoying the carnal act.

It was desperate, impatient, brutal, how they attacked the other, how they felt and swung their bodies in sync seeking their own pleasure. And as their hands caressed firmly each extension of available skin, lips met with passion in deep and impatient kisses, the temperature rose and the breathing quicken, Jason felt a tug on his chest, a feeling between need and ... relief?

He couldn’t know.

But he wanted more, more, more.

He wanted to leave more hickeys, kisses and licks in that small but muscular body, in that scarred and marked skin, perfect at his eyes. He wanted to feel how the person under him shudder and sigh for his touch, moaning because of their hips rubbing against each other in a pleasant frenzy.

More.

Faster, stronger, more groans, more pleasure. More of everything.

“J-Jason… Jason…”

It was breathed in his ear while strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and a firm leg hooked around his waist. Fingernails raking into his back, that body melting into his touch, making Jason shudder, shake and feel liberated, free, wild.

Slowly he started to know, he knew, he realized it already, who it was and what he wanted from him.

How much time he had been waiting for this?

Feeling hazy, Jason ran his fingers around those abs, touching softly those hickeys he had done willingly and drowning in lust in the way the other mewled. He shoved a hand between their legs desperately to stroke their lengths together and starts a firmly sway, inhaling sharply as listened the other person bite a moan.

God.

How long he wanted to do this?

“Jay!”

He wasn’t sure, but he wants him, he wants him so so much. His whole body was screaming, shaking for him. He wants to mark him, possess him, make him his own, make him scream his name in pleasure again and again until his voice breaks, until he clenches and collapse. Make his brilliant and always perfect brain a complete mess.

Fuck, he wants him.

And without stopping that pleasant swing, he raised the other hand to stroke the black hair that had grown again, so smooth, so soft, pulling it back to expose his neck and sank his teeth to leave a rough bite.

His, all his. For him and nobody else.

He wants to shout it, proclaim it. Because he knew, he already knew.

Whose body was this, who was this person. How much he wants to feel him, ruin him, fuck him deeply and incoherently, scream his name in moans and makes him tremble in ecstasy in the same way he was doing just by listening to him.

Releasing that hair, his hand caress those swollen, red lips, with a clear idea of what he wanted to do next. Which it was immediately understood and put in practice when the other started to suck his fingers as if it were the most succulent dish they had ever seen.

“Oh, shit… You...” Jason couldn’t help to gasp at that sight.

Heat eradicated all rational though and at this point he might think that what ran through his body was pure lava. But his brain was a complete mess when the other opened his eyes, when he saw those damn eyes.

His fucking eyes.

Those baby blue, almost like ice, were given him the most sinful and provocative look Jason had never seen, with that hunger smile on that angel face. A demon in disguise, making him sweat, shaking his whole world from the inside.

“¡Tim!” He cried out almost on the edge of ecstasy. “B-Baby bird... Ti- “

And then he woke up.

Confused, dazed, tangled in the sheets of his security home’s bed and hornier than he remembers ever having been.

“Oh.” He said simply, realizing what had happened.

He could have pretended to be surprised, or think about it, but it was late, he didn’t have to respond to anyone, he was tired, sweaty, his erection needed immediate attention and his brain wasn’t want to think deeply about what the best dream he had in years meant when i was still fresh in his mind.

So, that night Jason decided to live the moment and took care of his problem between his legs.

And if he jacked off thinking about Tim Drake and ended crying out his name in the sheets, well, that’s something nobody had to know.

~ 0.0 ~

Nobody had to know, which was fine.

But he knew it, which was wrong.

Not only because Tim is legally his little brother, or the third Robin, or Bruce’s perfect soldier, or Gotham’s golden boy, or the person who he tried to kill several times -almost some success over the years-, or those thousands reasons why Jason knew, really knew, it was a little (just a little) wrong to look at Tim in that way.

No.

It was because now he couldn’t forget about it too.

Because after that dream, it was as if a small switch which had been laid in the dark corners of his twisted mind had been pressed, as if a dam had collapsed and all that thoughts that had been behind it had leaked out of control.

And he couldn’t stop them.

In his poor and useless defense, he couldn’t have stopped them even if he had realized their existence before. How the fuck he would have known that his Babybird would grow up like that? While he was gone, puberty hit Tim Drake with the strength of three angry Banes, and once the kid got rid of Robin’s suit, grew a few inches (two or three maximum), the lifetime training made effect on his body and his young face was no longer similar to a baby seal, the intelligent and lethal Red Robin was born, whose face was pretty even with the black mask on and that red, tight uniform showed every little and important detail -his ass, he is talking about his ass- that neither him nor the rogues in Gotham should stare.

But they did, how could they not? Jason had felt betrayed and blessed equally when he returned Gotham and was welcomed by a greater and an incredibly attractive vision of the little and clumsy boy he tried to kill.

“Got something?” He asked indifferently as he watched Tim navigates databases to find something new about the case they were working together.

Tim’s penthouse was a mess, like always, and the number of cups of coffee scattered around could be considered indecent and dangerous, but at least was comforting to know that all was not perfect and pristine in the boy. And although Jason was desperate at the beginning knowing how live his replacement, he had already reached the point where they had worked so many time together to let him go and resigned to the fact that Alfred was the only one to do such miracles in the family.

“Wait.” Tim said totally concentrated, almost ignoring him.

Well, it’s not personal, he already knows when Tim focus on something he couldn’t stop until it’s finish. He’s like a bloodhound, relentless and stubborn.

But at the same time, it was annoying.

Quite annoying, because Jason has been struggling to control certain thoughts about Tim these days, something difficult when Tim is the most unconscious human being of the earth. He really didn’t seem to notice the way he smelled, how he arched in his seat to pay attention at work, how he bites his lower lip in concentration and his eyes sparkled with determination as his uniform highlight every curve and tight muscle of his firm and small body.

God yes, he’s small. But so dangerous.

Jason likes that, and maybe he’s just whipped, but he was proud for being so perceptive.

“What if I bite him?” He though as he fixed his gaze on Tim’s nape, which was partially covered by his dark hair, but not enough to reveal how much the kevlar suit cover above.

What would be his reaction if he did? If he marked him without any warning and inhale his scent? He would get pissed? Would he look at him with that furious and cold gaze? As much as he likes to tease Timmy because of him reactions, in his dreams he shuddered, moaned and seemed to want more.

But this was not a dream, of course. And consent is sexy too.

Even if he wanted to live that dream so much.

His thoughts were interrupted when those baby blue met his and Tim got up from his seat.

“I have something. Come on, Hood.” He said as diligent as ever and going to get what was left of his uniform.

And while Jason was recovering himself, joking and trying to tease Red Robin a little during the patrol, he pretended with that jerk smile of him not to look at that body and appreciate it in the distance.

Again, his ass.

“I will get over this.” He tried to convince himself as he follows Red Robin across the buildings, ready to kick out some bad guys tonight to get off his frustrations. “I’m sure.”

This crush, desire, attraction or whatever he had for Tim now, he will get over it. For sure.

He has to.

~ 0.0 ~

He couldn’t.

Moreover, it was worse than ever.

Because in one way to another they had found out that they were a very good team, which means they started to work together more often, and because they were in field together more frequently, they trusted the other more easily. And the more they trusted each other more down were their guard, and the more they lowered their guard, more comfortable were around the opposite. And were comfortable together meant more cases, more fights covering their backs, more dinners in the roofs, more internal jokes, more movie nights on one of their safe house’s couch in pajamas and popcorn, more training together and remove their uniform and mask when they were alone to eat, laugh or talk.

Confidence sucks, Jason was sure.

Especially when that confidence grew up that unresolved sexual tension between them.

Jason knew he wasn’t the only one, it was mutual. Of course he knew it, he had never been so proud of discover something in his life. And because of the time he had been looking at Tim, he ended up noticing how his Babybird looked at him too when he thought he wasn’t attentive.

Discreet glances in the cave’s showers or when they wear off their uniforms, prudent touches in any situation that triggered that electricity around them, a flirt that went noticed by the others, teasing jokes, little blushes of one, fantasies of the other, the constant approach and the change of atmosphere when they were together and into their own world.

“He knows?” Jason asked himself as he looked slightly the guy next to him, trying not to seem too distracted to the film they had chosen to see that night.

Did Tim knew?

What he caused? What his approached caused him?

Now his dreams were more frequent and imaginative, and jerk off his frustrations or kick bad guys was not so effective than before when his mind tells him all nights how good it would be if he grabbed Tim right now, kissed him until he was shivering and whimpering on his lap and fucked him on the couch until he passed out.

Or on the floor.

Or the kitchen counter.

Or the Batcomputer’s board.

Or Bruce’s office desk.

Or even on the bed, he could be traditional sometimes.

It wasn’t healthy to think those things when the object of his apparently now irrepressible sexual libido was right beside him, but lately he also had found himself fantasizing awake and it was that or keep wondering if Tim was aware of what was happening between them.

Because even if he’s still the most unconscious man on earth, he’s the second-best detective in the world. And throughout these months he has come to possess the strange skill to read him like an open book and understand each of his insults and bad jokes.

Without realizing it, he looked at the dark-haired boy again. And what was his surprise when he met Tim’s blue eyes in the process, both looking away as soon as possible, as if they hadn’t caught glaring each other in a needy way.

What was he thinking? Of course Timmy knows, even a dick would realize.

The question is, what will they do about it?

Because they had a rough past and Jason is not exactly a being of light, it’s not the best option for Tim, he’s aware of that. And getting along with Tim didn’t mean he was in good terms with the rest of the bats, and especially these days when he had been receiving several threatening and inquisitive looks from Dick and Bruce because of his constant flirt and tease with Tim-Tam, even a… warning? from the Demon’s spawn accompanied by a pair of batarangs directed to his head.

Precisely, the last was the most surprising, who would say the demon child would be protective over Tim? Life is a ride. Or maybe it was because Damian saw himself as the only being with the right to hurt Tim. What would he know about those two relationship, uh?

But it’s a bad idea, he and Tim, it’s the worst of ideas. Even Jason, who is an expert in bringing out bad ideas, know how bad this idea is.

But then he looks at Tim again, looks how his eyes pretending to be fixed on the screen, his pout, his legs crossed on the couch, his neck and shoulder exposed because of the ridiculously large shirt (wait, it’s his?), his relaxed posture which is slightly turned toward him, his calm expression and his hips.

He thinks about how he could hold him without any effort, lift him and take him wherever he wants to possess him, ride his hands over that figure, rip that shirt and eat him alive. Dear god, Tim would moan, he would scream his name, he would make those crystalline eyes look at him with lust and need while his voice breaks because of pleasure. He wants to discover his weak points, where he had to kiss for a sigh, where he had to lick for a groan, how far he could go, how far he could touch him to drive him crazy. Does his blush just stay on his cheeks? Or it would also lower his neck, his chest? He would know, he would know everything if it happened.

If it happened…

It would be a one-time thing?

No, he wanted more, more.

Their eyes met again and this time nobody looked away. The movie was still playing at the background, the dawn in Gotham was starting behind them, the popcorn’s bowl was forgotten, and the couch was uncomfortable as ever. Jason swallowed hard, Tim settled better into his seat, one sank closer, the other too, their shoulders brushed, and someone stared at the other’s lips, eyes saying something that their mouths couldn’t let out, not yet at least.

Are they sure that sexual tension is the only thing between them?

Of course not, they should also do something about the unresolved romantic tension.

Jason was the one who finally looked away, letting out a sigh.

Because dreaming and fantasizing about fucking Tim was one thing, which didn’t surprise him at first. But dreaming and fantasizing about making love to him, enjoy his body as a lover and kiss him for hours during one of those movie nights without do anything else, was something else, and this surely surprised him.

He will get over it?

Maybe not.

A light weight settled on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen for a second before realizing that it was Tim’s head, who had gathered the courage to slide silently and cling next to his body. Now he could feel his warmth and smell the scent of his shampoo, causing his heart jump and his hand acted on his own to gently embrace the smallest’s back and shoulders, bringing him closer.

Both sighed and relaxed at the touch. Tim closed his eyes and Jay still pretended he was watching the movie.

And he knew.

No, he wouldn’t get over it.

~ 0.0 ~

And he didn’t.

Something which he was now quite grateful.

“Look at me.” He ordered in a groan, accelerating his movements. “Tim, look at me.”

The younger was tense beneath him, blushed and arching towards his touch as he accelerated the movement of his fingers inside him, preparing him for what they would do next.

Jason may wonder if this was another dream, he could almost believe it, but he had verified from the start of the night that this was real, it was really happening. The doors were locked, their uniforms scattered on the floor, the sheets rumpled and sweaty and the room smelled of sweat and sex. And nothing could convince him more than Tim at his mercy and his own body quivering in a mixture of pain and heat equally.

Patrol tonight was quiet until an explosion in the port disturbed the usual harmony of Gotham. And the fact the he was innocently and casually walking around there has nothing to do with it, okay? It was pure coincidence.

It was also a coincidence that the explosion catches him close enough (rather fleeing) to blast him and left him a little -just a little- dazed on the ground, and Red Robin was the one closer to the incident. It had not been so much, seriously, he was already standing and ready to go when Red Robin arrived, but apparently he had his coms on and showing his location next to the explosion -something that nobody can prove, we have a deal, Oracle-, and those seconds of silence afterwards worried his Babybird and made everyone think that he could have dead… Again. Jason could have made a bad joke about that, but he couldn’t because Tim had approached to give him one of the most effusive and desperate kiss nobody had given him in his life.

Obviously, he couldn’t miss that opportunity.

Being close to an explosion or not, nothing nor nobody would have stopped Jason to return that kiss harder and roughly. And then another, and another, and another… They went to the closest safe house in a speed which Barry Allen would be proud of, and they entered the room bumping with everything in his path between deeply kisses and impatient hands tearing up their uniforms.

Even if he should, he didn’t think about rest when he finally was in the mattress sharing passionate kisses with Tim as the younger was rubbing on his thigh and murmured in shivers how jerk he was and how he would bring him back to hell if he dare to die again. And, of course, it was impossible to think this was a dream when the same dark-haired boy pinned him in the bed, caressed tenderly every inch of his body, marked him willingly and then made to him literally the best blowjob ever. Jason could have babbled every compliment he knows in any language, but he couldn’t remember because Tim shut up his brain completely with that mouth.

The kiss that followed that was seductively and satisfying, and Jason couldn’t wait more to grab Tim’s ass -finally- to turn them over and lean over his body to whisper on his ear how much he wanted to fuck him, whose response was a sharped smile and a “Okay. And what are you waiting for? An invitation?”

And why they had taken so long to do this?

Hell, if he’d know.

If he had known how good it would be, how precious it would look Tim in his arms, how nice would be his smell, his body, all beyond fantasy. Each kiss was addicting, and every touch felt right, proper. Their connection was latent and the trust between them plus what they had been repressing flooded them, came to light and drowned them in sensations and joy.

His erection was going to explode at any moment if he keeps going like this, and his fingers moved inside Tim to reach that point that would make him whimper incoherently. And still this wasn’t enough, it wasn’t, because as much Jay can enjoy the view, have one of Gotham’s desirable men melting and begging for his touch, listening to those delicious sounds which dreams couldn’t even match, there was something Jason loved much more about Tim and he was trying to hide.

“Fuck Tim, look at me.” He groaned again, removing his fingers inside of him. He had waited enough. “I need to see you.”

Tim, who was hiding his expression against the pillow until now, turned over when Jason’s fingers left him, and the sound of a condom wrapper broke into the room. He was lucky Jason was putting on the protection because he could have cum at that moment just by seeing Tim’s expression flushed and overwhelmed in heat.

When Jason found himself ready, he placed between Tim’s legs and his breath hitched when the smallest hooked his legs around his hips and clung tightly to push him forward. Jay placed his hands over the other’s shoulders and looked at Tim expectantly, a smile began to form on his lips, but doubts started to lurk in the back of his mind. He was sure that Tim wanted him, but he couldn’t help to make sure that his Babybird knew where he was getting into.

Rolling his eyes and flicking his tongue, Tim wrapped his arms around Jay’s neck to pull him down and bend closer to his face, looking him directly into his eyes.

“Jason, if you don’t fuck me right now as you promised you’d do, I will commit a crime.” Jason wasn’t sure when he promised something like that -probably when Tim was absorbing his soul in that blowjob- but he wouldn’t want to break that promise. “I haven’t spent years dreaming about this moment so that now you doubt.”

Jason let out a sigh and nodded, he will ask about “that years” later. Instead, he took a moment to feel their bodies almost fitting perfectly, how good it was to have that small, warm silhouette against him, clinging him with confidence and in a way that he wasn’t allowed anyone in a long time. Jason looked those baby blue for a second, searching for a hint of doubt, and when he couldn’t find any, just smiled genuinely at the affection and lust reflected there.

One of his hand just caressed gently the scar on his Babybird’s neck, that one which he put there when his mind was broken and full of pain and misdirected anger. And when Jason moved to kiss it, Tim just purred in the touch and a little, a shy smile appeared on his face as he led his fingers through his hair.

“You know, you’re not going to get rid of me now.” Jason breathed against his lips, sinking finally into him and melting in the warmth feeling.

“As if I wanted to.” Tim answered him with a radiant, happy smile, demanding later a deep kiss as he settled into his arms, as if that were the place where he belongs to.

It was the closest to an “I love you”, “I know, me too” they would have at this moment, but it’s enough. They don’t need nothing more, they understand each other, and sometimes their actions talks more than words. And they would need much more than a confused Bat-clan to separate them now, so they have much, much time to say it, to love each other properly.

Luckily, they have time now to left behind dream’s world and start living reality together, which is infinitely better at all levels.

#jaytim #jason todd #tim drake #timjay #myfic #smut #dc #dc comics #red robin #red hood

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gemstoneconstellations · 5 years

Text

Puppers

Summary: Werewolf Bakugo moves to the city and has a neighbor who really likes dogs.

Wordcount: 3061

Okay, he didn’t plan for this to happen.

It’s not like he’d made the conscious decision to expose himself to you; he just kind of… did. He wasn’t used to living in the city yet and had just wanted to feel the night air in his fur. If he hadn’t had to work early in the morning, he would have gone to the woods. He didn’t even think of checking to make sure no one was on the balcony next to his. Bakugo just opened the back door of his apartment, took off his clothes, and stepped out onto the patio in wolf form.

You on your balcony, watering your plants, was not what he had been hoping for. Bakugo flinched at the sound of a watering can clattering to the floor. “Uh…” You stood there, blinking, as Bakugofroze.He did the first thing that came to mind, and that was to pretend to be a dog.

“Woof?” He gave a hesitant bark. That’s what normal dogs do right? They bark at people? That seemed to snap you out of it and you scrambled to pick up the watering can.

You looked around, leaning over the divider between your balconies to look into Bakugo’s apartment. “Um, I didn’t know you had such a big dog? I didn’t think the landlord would let you have one when she got pissed at me for having a hamster.” Bakugo avoided looking at you as you waited for a response that would never come, lying down on his lounge chair.

He thought that would be the end of it but he could still feel you watching him. Looking up, he saw you looking down at him. He tried to ignore you, looking away at the sky But then he felt fingers going through his fur. He was about to growl at you to stop but….

Next thing he knew, he was leaning against the divider on his hind legs, tail going crazy and your hands deep in his fur, scratching in all the right places. If he’d been in his human form, he would be moaning and making all sorts of embarrassing sounds. Oh that feels so good! What the fuck; why don’t pack members do this shit? Her hands are fucking glorious!

“Well, aren’t you a sweetie?”

And it just got worse from there. After that, every time he saw you out on your patio, he couldn’t resist joining you. He’s barely said two words to you before and now here he is with your fingers behind his ears as he listened to you talk about your day. He would respond in his head but most of the time, he just panted. How the fuck did you know exactly where to pet? Man, fuck being human; if dogs get treated like this, he’d rather be a pet.

He had an easier time dealing with you when he was in his wolf form. But in his human form, when he had to speak to you, not so much…

“Hey, Bakugo. Your dog is really pretty, what’s his name?” Bakugo choked on air as he locked his door. He looked over to see you walking over towards him with groceries in your hand. “He’s super cute and-”

He slammed his hand over your mouth. What kind of idiot says that in the open? “Shut the fuck up! Are you fucking stupid? What if someone hears you?!”

You just raised an eyebrow at him, completely unfazed by his hand over your mouth. “So you didn’t get permission?” Bakugo shook his head at you and pulled his hand away to shush you. You gasped and came closer to him to whisper, “You smuggled in a puppy?”

“He is not a puppy! He’s a full grown adult!” Are you doing this on purpose? Bakugo could feel his tail bristling in his pants leg and tried to take deep, raspy breaths to relax himself.

“Hmm he doesn’t act like it; he gets all cute and cuddly. I just wanna hug him.”

Groans spilled out of Bakugo’s mouth as he rubbed his temples. Somehow, you have been pressing every one of his buttons. You can’t meet any of his idiots, you’d blend in too well with them and become a permanent thing. “Shut up already. You’re giving me a fucking headache. Fuck off.”

Assuming the conversation was over; Bakugo huffed as he walked away and waved you off. He could hear your keys jingle for a moment before your door opened, but it didn’t shut right away. “I’ll meet you on your patio later!”

The wolf froze mid-step. “Hah?!” He looked back at you in horror, pulling down on his hood to make sure it was still in place. Did he fuck up? Had you realized---

But you just smiled at him, your groceries swaying behind you. “You always open the door for your puppy, why don’t you come out and hang with us?”

Ah, that’s what you were getting at. No way. The less contact he has with you, the less chance of getting exposed and possibly endangering his life and others. “Fuck you, I got better things to do! And he’s not a puppy!” He growled the last part and took off running; he was most likely going to be late to practice now because of you. Maybe he should limit his contact with you? Nah, you would probably bug him if you don't regularly see his human or wolf side.

The wolf continued grumbling, not listening to you giggling to yourself. “He sure acts like one.”

After hours of practice and being able to release a lot of pent-up energy and frustration from beating on the drums, he was finally relaxing at home, in his territory with no idiots around. Just him lying back on his couch, a book, the sound of the rain, and his neighbor, who kept peeking over the divider between their balconies… For the last twenty, agonizing minutes.

“For fucks sake.” Bakugo slammed his book shut and stormed over to the door, nearly shattering the glass from the force of him slamming it open. “He’s not coming out, it’s fucking raining! No one likes the smell of wet dog!”

You had the audacity to pout at him, exaggeratingly extending out your lower lip. “How about I come over? I feel off if I don’t get my daily puppy snuggles.” You tried to flutter your lashes at him. Too bad for you, he grew up with the shitty nerd, who had mastered that sad, kicked puppy look that it should be considered a lethal weapon. Your attempt was cute though.

Bakugo growled as he scratched his scalp under his hood. “He’s not a fucking puppy! He’s a full grown adult; left the den and is all on his own! Lone wolf and all that shit!”

“So mean! Puppers seems to like me touching him all over. He rolls over for me and whines when I stop.” You leaned on the divider, your head resting on your hands as you spoke with a teasingly smug tone. He tried not to inhale your scent, which changes slightly every time he saw you. He wondered what you used to smell so good without the chemicals irritating his nose. “Do you pet him enough? He seems aloof but is actually pretty desperate for some affection.”

Heat rushed from his neck up to the top of his head. His claws dug into his palms as he tried to swallow down his embarrassment and he stormed up to you to tell you off in your face. “Hah? Desperate? You’re the one that seems fucking desperate! Begging to pet some stranger’s dog, the fuck is wrong with you?” The surprises kept coming so he really shouldn’t have been surprised that you didn’t react like he thought you would. Instead, you just smiled more, even laughing under your breath. “The hell you smiling about?”

“You came out to talk to me.”

He could feel all his fur standing up as a shiver went through his body. Coughing in his hand, he tried to hide his embarrassment. “You are so stupid. I can’t deal with your shit; you are on the same level as those idiots.”

He turned around to lean against the divider with you, feeling himself giving into your antics. “Who?”

“The group of morons that won’t stop following me. Not my fault they all decided I’d be the one brain cell they share.” Despite him making the choice to leave the pack he’d grown up in on his own, his friends had still followed him, saying that he was the leader of their mini-pack. Where he goes, they go. A small smile snuck up on his face; he couldn’t help it. Till he realized you were watching him.

Bakugo kicked off the wall and stomped back inside his apartment. He glanced back at you for a moment. “Just go inside already, before you get sick.” Door closed and curtains drawn, his nose scrunched up at his own smell. The humidity had seeped into his fur. “Great now, I stink.”

A few days later, the night was finally completely clear, a half-moon shining brightly in the sky. He was out on the balcony earlier than usual in his wolf form, just staring at the sky, feeling slightly homesick. But he wouldn’t admit that out loud.

“Oh hello puppy!” Bakugo jumped at the sudden sound of your voice. You leaned over, trying to peer into his apartment. “Bakugo? Are you there?”

Throwing one leg over the divider, you shouted into the empty apartment. “I’m coming over!”

Instantly, you were on Bakugo, scratching behind his ears and squishing his face against yours. “Who’s a good puppy? You are!” Stupid tail involuntarily moving on its own...

You sat down with the wolf between your legs, arms wrapped around his neck. “There you go. I’ll give you all the love you want.” Fuck you and your miracle hands! Bakugo grumpily glared as you just continued to cuddle him and started to fill him in on how your week had been.

“Your fur is so soft… your owner may not like me, but I’m glad you do.” Bakugo huffed at you. He can’t blame you for thinking that. Stupid human, I don’t hate you. I don’t know how to act around you. Too happy all the time…which isn’t a bad thing. He leaned against you, pushing you to continue petting him. Just continue petting me, dumb human, feel honored since I don’t let anyone else. You giggled into his fur,your fingers going back to work, making him croon and his tail wag crazily.

Bakugo’s time with you was suddenly interrupted by his front door being unlocked and a big, red-headed idiot storming in, with the blonde idiot close behind. “Hey Blasty! Guess what? We got a gig-” The room went completely still as everyone took each other in.

You were the first one to speak up. “Uh, hi? Are you friends of Bakugo? I think he stepped out earlier.”

“Eichan? Are you okay?” Oh fuck, now Deku had entered the room and his eyes landed on you suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“I’m Bakugo’s neighbor who likes to pet his puppy.” To emphasize your point, you pulled Bakugo into your arms and his traitorous body relaxed under your touch before he could even try to control himself.

“P-P-Puppy?! Ka-Kacchan?!” It seems the nerd had only just now noticed Bakugo sitting beside you. Deku lost all the color in his face as he waited for Bakugo’s typical reaction, while the other two had to hide their faces, Kaminari buried in his hands and Kirishima in the crook of Deku’s neck, their shoulders shaking with laughter.

Bakugo growled at his pack mates’ reactions, but was stopped by fingers rubbing through his fur. “Oh, so that’s your name. It’s so cute, perfect for a puppy like you. I’ll be sure to tease Bakugo for it later.” He completely melted into you, the fight leaving his body. “Kacchan.” Your hot breath rushed against his ear, making it twitch and his tail began to wag like crazy again. Another snort came from the three stooges still standing in the doorway.

That’s it. Will all of his willpower, he ripped himself away from you and ran to his bedroom. Quickly shoving on sweatpants, he shouted as he ran back into the living room. “You fuckers! Get the fuck out and give me my god damn key!”

Pushing the three of them out into the hall, Bakugo was about to slam the door in their faces when Kaminari spoke up. “Oh but Bakugo, we wanted to play with the puppy too.” Kirishima and Kaminari both laughed together while Deku just sighed at them, thinking that they’d earned what was going to happen next.

“I’m going to kill you idiots!” Before the two could pull away, Bakugo grabbed both of them by their throats and pulled them centimeters away from his murderous glare. His claws dug into the back of their necks, showing how serious he was. “I know fucking Deku isn’t dumb enough to say anything, but if you two so as mention it, I will force feed you your own fucking eyeballs so you can watch me claw out your organs! Got it?”

“Got it!” The two of them yelped in agreement. “Never again!”

“Now leave.” He tossed them away from him so Deku could lead the two dumb alphas away. Bakugo slammed his door shut and made sure it was locked before turning back to you still sitting on his balcony. “And you! Go home.”

He stormed over to you and lifted you with ease. “Woah.” You whispered in amazement but he was feeling too angry and embarrassed to really enjoy impressing you and nearly tossed you back onto your side. Not even waiting to see you go inside or try to speak to him, he ran back inside, door locked and curtains pulled.

Once he was finally alone and there was no way anyone could see him, he curled up inside his plush bed under his blankets, wishing for a fast death to save him from the potential continuous embarrassment.

He avoided his balcony for days, his curtains never opened, but he could hear you coming out and waiting for him to only go back inside. Thankful that the gig the idiots had mentioned was coming up soon, he used that as a distraction. It was actually a concert for were-kind only in the woods, with no humans around for miles. Exactly what he needed’ no fear of getting exposed and his tail and ears could be out freely.

The concert was a success. Of course it was; their band was actually pretty good, especially compared to the other musicians there. He knew that this was supposed to bring awareness for local artists of their kind, but they were all mediocre. The rest of his band members were handling talking to the new fans while Bakugo hung back, sitting on the back of Kirishima’s truck as he chugged down water.

Deku came to join him. The nerd was also not great with crowds, but for different reasons. They sat together quietly, to Bakugo’s bliss, but it barely lasted. “So…”

“Don’t.” Bakugo rolled his eyes; he should have known the meddlesome nerd would put his nose where it didn’t belong.

“I was just going to tell you that I do the same thing for Eichan. It’s actually typical for omegas to pamper their alphas like that. So you don’t have to be embarrassed.” The mentioned red-headed alpha turned towards his mate and waved, blowing a kiss as he did. Deku pretended to catch it and press it to his lips. Gag.

Bakugo crushed his now empty water bottle and tossed it into the bed of the truck. “I don’t need some stupid mate to pamper me. She’s nothing but some fucking human who thinks I have a dog. I’m only making sure she doesn’t get suspicious of me.”

Deku tilted his head in confusion. “Human? Um… but Kacchan…” The blonde growled warningly and Deku raised his hands in defeat. “Okay; I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

It was silent between them again, this time with a slightly awkward atmosphere. Bakugo was about to leave when something pink and fluffy zoomed right by him. “Babe!” Mina had launched herself into Kaminari’s arms, wrapping her limbs around him as he spun around. You would think they’d been separated for years instead of just six songs, ergo the dumbest couple to ever live. “Hey guys!” Mina waved to everyone, still clinging to her boyfriend.

Speaking of the idiot, with no consideration of how inappropriate and intimate it was, Kaminari shoved his face into her neck and deeply inhaled her scent in front of everyone. “What’s that smell, Mina? It’s really good.”

“Oh my new friend from work helped me. She makes this lotion that helps with that nasty wet dog smell. Humans don’t ask if I have a dog anymore! It’s so nice and not overpowering.” She pointed behind her to where she had come from and that was when he finally saw you, making Bakugo jump to his feet.

Bakugo didn’t know what to do, body frozen in place as his brain processed the fact that you were there and what he should do next. His first instinct was to hide his tail and run. But Mina’s words began to sink in as he spotted a tail swaying behind you and ears on the top of your head. “Hello, Kacchan.” No hesitation, you walked right up to him with a mischievous smile.

“You knew…” He crumbled to the ground, groaning and hiding his burning face in his hands.

“The whole time, Puppers.” You hummed as you squatted down with him. He could hear your tail speeding up, either out of enjoyment of his pain or the fact he didn’t pull away from your touch. Fingers ran through his hair, massaging his scalp the same way you usually did and he easily turned into putty for you. He slowly raised his eyes towards you; of course you had a big smile on your face. “Awe, why are getting shy now? You’ve already had my hands all over you.”

“Shut up.” He’ll get you back… later.

#bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #werewolf bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #fluffy #just like him

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girlmeetsliv3 · 5 years

Text

Killing Me Softly: II

Sugardaddy!BTS x reader

They were beloved. The very ground they walked on worshiped. It had been that way since before you were born and it would remain that way even after your choice. Decisions decisions, it would decide your future. But why choose one when you could choose them all? If you chose none, well… that wasn’t a decision you could make.

AN: This is for the person who requested an ot7 sugar daddy story where bts are yandere. Sorry, it took so long, but this ended up being a three-part story. Hope everyone enjoys it!

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, and vivid descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

Word Count: 4,915

Tag List: @perrryyysblog @purpuravm @doodlesandthings @catsandstrawberries

killingmesoftlywithhislove

_Eight Months Ago_

A fit of giggles erupted from your chest as you desperately tried to hide your face from the camera pointed directly at it. “Stop it, it isn’t funny.” You attempted to sound serious but the grin on your face made it rather difficult. “Don’t be so shy,” Jungkook grumbled, but his eyes were filled to the brim with joy. The two of you had been laying around all day when Jungkook suddenly asked you to be his muse. He had been low on inspiration and wanted some pictures, you didn’t think much of it. Until he had pulled out a lingerie set and suddenly his suggestion didn’t seem so innocent anymore. It took a while, but he had managed to convince you to at least try it on before pulling out his camera and taking candid shots of you. “I don’t want weird pictures of me in your next display. Just so some weird old guy can buy them.” You pouted. Jungkook sighed before letting the large Sony A9 fall to his side. Thinking you had won, a smug look crept up your face, which was quickly wiped when you were tackled to the ground. To his credit, Jungkook had made sure you didn’t hit your head, by placing his hand on it, but when your butt hit the hardwood floor it still hurt.

“Fuck Kook. Seriously.” It couldn’t be helped that a moan of pain escaped your lips. The effect it had on Jungkook noticeable as his pupils quickly dilated and eyes became hooded. He leaned forward leaving wet kisses all along your jaw and neck. “Let me fuck you…please?” His hips began to grind against yours and god knows you would’ve given in if, “I told you I’m on my period.” A loud groan left him and now it was his turn to pout. He stared into your eyes, cupping m\your cheek gently. “Well can I please take pictures of you? They’re just for me. I can even crop out your face later if you want.” His tone was whiny, his hips also slowly rolled into yours causing the horniness you felt to worsen much more. Without thinking of the potential consequences, you nodded. A shit-eating grin spread across his face, as he lifted his camera once more.

_Present_

Jungkook’s house was an architectural marvel with it being angled towards the top and the top two floors being made entirely out of glass. It had freaked you out a bit when you first saw it, but you quickly realized the windows were tinted so that if you were to peer inside one would see nothing. You had always spent to most time inside his house, Jungkook was a homebody and preferred having slow sex on the couch or aggressively bending you over the kitchen countertop than going out. Yoongi was the same but being a photographer and not a CEO meant the man had much more leeway. A café would have been a better choice, but after your encounter with Jin and Yoongi, you learned they had little care for etiquette. The doorbell was one of those that had a camera that transmitted to your phone, so he knew you were there without you having to notify him. Sure enough, in less than a minute the door opened, Jeon Jungkook glaring down at you. Now all of them were intimidating to a certain extent but considering Jungkook was nearly a head taller and the images he possessed; he was the most threatening out of all of them.

Jungkook opened the door wider beckoning you to come in and hesitantly you did. Nothing had changed much from the ground floor, the part he always used as his studio. The door closed behind you and when you heard the beeping from the lock goosebumps rose in the back of your neck. He still hadn’t spoken, he simply walked past you are heading straight for the stairs. You followed suit even when you would rather have stayed on the ground floor – close to the door. When you reached the top floor the first thing you noticed was his bed; more specifically the pictures that laid strewn about. Quickly you rushed towards them, trying to grapple with how many there were. Some you recognized but others seemed to have been taken when you were asleep or in hotel rooms. It dawned on you when you recognized the blue bedsheets strewn about your naked torso in one of them that Jungkook hadn’t taken all of these. They had all taken pictures of you. A sob broke out as you whipped around to face the man, still standing by the stairs. “Why?” He shrugged as if you had asked him a meaningless question. As if nothing mattered to him anymore. “Hyung said we needed a failsafe. One just in case you refused to come back to us.”

Your blood began to boil. Jungkook had always been so gentle but once he didn’t get his way, he behaved like a child and threw a tantrum. This was the biggest one yet. “Do you even realize what you’re doing?! You’re ruining my life and for what? I’m sorry I don’t feel the way you want me to but blackmailing me isn’t going to make me run back into your arms. It’s only going to make me hate you more.” You were spiraling, all the pent emotions finally unraveling, and Jungkook was going to feel your rage. “I can’t get a job. Can’t move out. For fuck’s sake, I can’t even blink without feeling like one of you is waiting - watching. Don’t you understand?!” It was meant to be a strong statement, but it quickly turned into a whimper. All you wanted was a normal life and they refused to allow it. Once he saw your rant had ended, Jungkook stalked towards you pushing you onto the bed. His hands gripping your wrist tightly, caging you in with his body above you. In the midst of the tirade, you missed the way Jungkook’s face had darkened at the suggestion of you hating him. Missed the way his jaw clenched, tongue poking his cheek. Now you were truly in for it.

“You don’t need any of that shit. When will you understand? Why don’t you understand?!” He was centimeters away from your face, his nose brushing against yours but not in an intimate way. “We’re all you need. You said so yourself, so why do you want so badly to leave us? To live without love, care, trust, or money. Think about it. Why is it so difficult for you to accept it?!” The words he spoke cut through you like a blade. It was true that the seven men had cared and provided for you in a way no one had for the entirety of your life. However, if it was simple as that then you would have stayed. Would’ve given in. You would have succumbed to your darkest desires and their twisted needs. But it wasn’t that simple, it never was. “I don’t love you, Jungkook. I’m sorry but I can’t be with someone who would…do what you did. I’m sorry.” The sight of you was pathetic, you were sure of it, eyes brimming with tears and your body shaking. You wanted him to realize how pathetic you were, maybe then his obsession would stop. With a sigh, Jungkook let his face fall beside you his long hair tickling your nape. The heavy silence that hung around the two of you didn’t last for long, when Jungkook broke it he also broke your heart. “You love Hoseok though, despite what he did. You still love him. You would do anything for him, so how is it any different than what I did.”

Hoseok’s face flashed in your head: his contagious laugh, beautiful smile, his sun-kissed skin, the murderous look in his eye, the clothes tainted by blood. You shook your head to get rid of the image, causing Jungkook to chuckle. “You’re so willing to love him, but Hoseok wants us too. We want you too. I bet deep inside, you want us as well.” His voice deepened, the effect it had on your body involuntary. Your thighs clenched together, heart sped up, and panties became slick. Jungkook’s fingers worked to get your sweater off you, as he sloppily peppered kisses down your neck. Once it was off, his hands slowly rubbed up and down your arms but stopped when you flinched. The marks on your arms still incredibly sensitive, Jungkook stared at them before bringing up your arms to his lips and kissing them gently. Why did he have to be this way? Why did he have to be so cruel? Why did he need to be so kind? Jungkook crawled off you and faced the floor, instead of your face. Slowly you got off the bed, the pictures on it crumbled under you and Jungkook’s weight. It was a stupid thing to hope for, but you hoped that somehow your words had gotten through to him.

“Jimin-hyung and Taehyung are waiting for you at St.Pierre’s. If you don’t show up, I’ll leak the photos.”

Your tactic needed to change in order for this to work. Being kind, polite, and truthful had gotten you nowhere with the previous four members so something had to change. It was dangerous to be meeting both Jimin and Taehyung, the two could be brats and their antics only amplified when they were together. You had gone back home and changed into the most expensive dress you owned, a pair of red-bottomed heels, and style your hair into a nice updo. Makeup was also a must. The point was to look as if you were doing fine without them as if you didn’t need them. Showing up looking like a nervous wreck would only further prove their theory, you couldn’t have that. For the first time in a while, you felt attractive and lethal. You were going to march in their and have them surrender to you one way or another. You still had one card left to play and it was important they never find out about it, or else you would truly be ruined. Before stepping out the house, you shot a quick text to Sihyeon to make sure she was alright. Her response somewhat unnerved you.

Sihyeon: Can’t talk right now or for a while.

Y/l/n Y/n: Is everything alright?

Y/l/n Y/n: Are you okay?

Sihyeon: ttyl

You tried to call her, but it immediately went to voicemail. Fearing the worst you decided that once you met left St.Pierre’s you would go visit her, just to be safe. You grabbed your purse heading for the door, you unlocked it only to be met with the sight of the men you were supposed to meet at your doorstep. “We weren’t sure if you were coming so we wanted to stop by.” Jimin spoke a smirk on his face as he glanced at your appearance. Taehyung stood to the right of him a stoic expression on him. “I was getting ready. Wouldn’t want to look out of place next to the two of you.” It didn’t really matter what you wore, you would always be out of place next to them. The two men looked like Greek gods or sculptures that Rafael would’ve crafted. Taehyung stepped forward, peering over your shoulder. “Mind if we come in? Just for a bit?” It was a question per se, but you moved aside to let them wander in anyhow. The two analyzed your apartment with indifferent looks on their faces, Jimin went so far as to sit on the couch. “Nice place. It’s a pretty expensive location though, how did you manage to rent it?” His question threw you off guard as did the gleam in his eyes. Taehyung was admiring a framed picture of you and Sihyeon hanging on the wall. His back was towards you, so you couldn’t really tell what he was thinking. “Sihyeon knows the manager so we got it on a discount.” The less they knew the better. “Do you still have that necklace I gave you?” Taehyung questioned, still turned away from you. Taehyung had gifted you a small pendant when your birthday had rolled around, it was a beautiful amethyst attached to a gold chain. Without waiting for your response, he spoke once again. “I want it back.”

Your frowned a bit and glanced over at Jimin who was playfully smiling at Taehyung. The other had turned to look at him, and from what you could see smiled back. “Sure, let me go get it.” You walked to your room and headed straight for the jewelry box you kept hidden in your nightstand. You had never thrown away any of the gifts you’d received, deeming that a bit immature. You bent down to open the drawer, only to hear the sound of the door clicking shut. Quickly you straightened up only to see that both men were in your room now, blocking the exit. “Get out.” You chided, but the two didn’t listen. Jimin walking around and laying on your bed. “I always liked softer beds. It’s easier to sink into them as your being pounded from behind.” The vulgarity of his words shocked you. Taehyung smirking at your reaction. “The necklace babe?” You scowled and bent back down, ripping the drawer open and grabbing the necklace from the jewelry box. “Here now leave.” You threw it with all your might at his chest, but Taehyung caught it with ease. “Come on, you promised to have dinner with us,” Jimin whined, rolling on your bed until he was right in front of you.

“Fine then, let’s go have dinner. I don’t see why we’re still here.” Taehyung sauntered to where you stood, he stood so close you could see all the flaws he didn’t possess. At least not physically. “Jimin and I want dessert first.” It was when you felt the slight sting in your hand and Taehyung��s face was turned to the side, that you registered what had happened. It wasn’t his reaction that terrified you, instead, it was Jimin’s. The other man had harshly tugged you onto the bed, positioning you were strewn across his lap, ass in the air. You struggled against him, but when his hand landed harshly against your bottom you stilled. “What happens to bad girls, [Y/n]?” His voice rough, when you didn’t reply he landed another strike against you. “What happens to them?” You bit your lips to stop the words from coming out but at the threat of another hit they slipped. “They get punished.” Your dress was lifted up to your waist and you became aware of the sound of a belt being undone. Fearing the worse, you looked back only to see Taehyung with his belt in his hands the rest of outfit untouched. His hooded eyes met yours and he glowered, “You hit me [Y/n] isn’t it only fair that I hit you?” If you said no, the punishment that would ensue would be far worse. So, you nodded your head as you cried.

Taehyung had confessed to you after passionate lovemaking one night, that he had been bullied growing up. That he came to fear anyone touching him, for fear they would strike him. It had gotten better with time but the only people he really trusted were the other men and after that moment you. You had sworn to never hit him, to never hurt him, so when you slapped him it hurt much more than your abandonment had. Jimin too knew of his past which is why took it personally. Taehyung was his soulmate. You had broken him. The leather of your belt stung, however, it couldn’t compare to the pain you felt in your soul. Your mind was blank and too numb to focus on anything, too numb to play the game any longer. Too weak. Jimin was quick to pick up on it, “I’m going to ask you some questions [Y/n]. Answer them honestly.” You mindlessly nodded along to whatever he said, too lost in your own head to perceive you were about to lose it all. “How do you pay for the apartment, [Y/n]?” He probed, an eyebrow raised. “With my money.” The belt strikes once again, you lost count of already. “How? You don’t have a job? Are you sugaring again?” His hold on you tightened at the latter question. “No with the money I sa-” You had stopped midsentence when you realized what you had admitted. It didn’t matter as the belt had stopped and both Taehyung and Jimin remained still. Taking the opportunity, you crawled away from them and quickly moved off the bed. The dress falling into place rubbing against your sore behind.

A maniacal laugh tore from Taehyung’s chest, he had to lean over and clutch his knees in order to support himself. Jimin had quieted down, refusing to look up from his lap, a small smile on his face. After what felt like forever both gazed up at you, “That’s against the rules.” Just like that they stood up, dusted themselves off, and crossed over to you. Tenderly kissing your lips before walking out of the room, Taehyung poked his head back inside smiling. “Don’t worry babe, you’ll hear from us soon.” Before letting his right eye fall into a wink. At the sound of the front door being shut, you fell to your knees in prayer. Head falling onto the cold tile underneath, “Please. Please, I’m begging you.” You didn’t know who you were begging god, a guardian angel, fate, the men who had just left your apartment, or the one who was surely going to visit. It seems your body had reached its limit for you fell asleep right there and then, the dark world fading around you.

_Ten Months Ago_

The television screen in front of you had been forgotten, as Hoseok and you lay wrapped up in each other on the couch. You weren’t sure if this is what you were supposed to do. If this was okay. Being a sugar baby didn’t really come with manual instruction, the videos online didn’t really seem to fit your relationship with Hoseok either. It seemed logical to allow him to take the reins never questioning what he wanted or why he wanted it, so long as you were comfortable. Hoseok seemed to like this as well since it meant you never really objected to anything, unlike his past arrangements. There was also your uncanny ability to read him, just like now. Hoseok had been on edge as of late, it could’ve been work but you noticed he was beginning to spend more time with his friends and less with you. It would’ve been fine if his friends hadn’t begun to try to be with you whenever Hoseok stood you up. The dynamic was strange, and you were sure he had noticed it. Hoseok reached over for the control, pausing the tv show. His face was unusually stern, it worried you. “Hobi is everything okay?” The man sighing. Before he turned to look at you with a melancholic smile.

“Do you remember when you asked me why I didn’t have a normal relationship?” You nodded hesitantly. It was something you had questioned when the two of you had gone out for Thai food on your second meeting. Hoseok had said he didn’t really have time for courtship and that it didn’t really interest him. “I lied.” Noticing the concern in your eyes, he pulled you closer against him. As if he had a secret to confess that he wanted no one else to hear. “I can’t have a relationship because I already am in one…an unconventional one.” You were admittedly, shocked but not surprised. Of course, Hoseok would have a girlfriend, the man was the complete package. The longer you thought about it though, the more you picked up on his words. “What do you mean unconventional?” The relationship between the two of you was unconventional for sure, but that wasn’t what he was hinting at. “My friends and I are…” His mouth began to quiver and immediately you pulled him in for a hug. “It’s okay Hoseok. You don’t have to worry about that, I mean it’s the twenty-first century. People are more accepting nowadays.” Somethings were beginning to make sense: the tension between the seven men. The way they all seemed to communicate effortlessly. You weren’t even upset because if it means Hoseok was happy then you would gladly pretend for the sake of appearances.

“I’m not gay [Y/n] not entirely. That’s not what I’m worried about either.” He chuckled humorlessly into your chest. “What?” Hoseok pulled his head up and stared at you lovingly. His thumb trying to smooth away the frown in between your brows. The man simply sighed and smiled a bit before responding, “I’m worried because I want you too. I want you to be a part of my life, [Y/n] and so do they.” It took a while for the words to sink in, but you weren’t sure what to say or how to respond properly. “Uh. I…” The discomfort you felt was indescribable, as was Hoseok’s fallen expression. “It’s okay [Y/n]. I get it. I’m sorry for bringing it up.” You shook your head, “No. If that’s what you want. If it will make you happy then I’ll-” Hoseok interrupted you, by pressing his lips against yours. Tears of joy streaming down his face. The kiss broke when the two of you no longer had any air left in your lungs. Hoseok pulled you into his chest, running his fingers through your hair. He spoke so softly you struggled to hear it. “… love you.”

_Present_

The obnoxious blaring of your ringtone had woken you up. You could barely move, and your muscles ached from sleeping on the hard floor last night. All you had dreamt of was methods of escape, maybe if you left the country for a while everything would smooth over. You would apologize repeatedly to Sihyeon for leaving on such short notice, but it was also for her own safety. If you left the boys would no longer feel the need to target her. Some time away from them might also help your ever-increasing paranoia and your weakening mental state. Settled on your decision you located your laptop and searched for cheap flights out of Korea. Maybe you could go to Japan for a bit? Or even Hong Kong? The longer you thought about it, the more the latter seemed like a safe bet. Japan was simply too close, they could reach you in less than two hours, and they had connections there. You purchased the round-trip tickets and inputted your card information waiting for the confirmation page to pop up. Instead, you got the notification that your payment was declined. You tried again but it still didn’t work. Wanting not to stress, you searched for your credit card and tried that one. Still no luck. No this can’t be happening…

Opening another tab, you quickly typed in your bank website and tried logging in only for it to say that account didn’t exist. Your phone rang once again and this time, you acknowledged it. Pressing answer without even bothering to see who it was. “Hello?” The voice of a friendly man spoke back to you, “Good Morning Miss Y/l/n. This is Yuri from Woori bank calling to update you on the state of your account.” You sighed in relief, “Yes I was just about to call. I can’t access my account or funds.” Yuri made a noise of acknowledgment, “The thing is ma’am your account is being investigated, so you won’t be able to access it until the investigation is being completed.” You frowned, “Investigation? Why is my account being investigated? I haven’t done anything.” The line was silent for a while before Yuri replied, “The bank received an anonymous tip that the money in your account may have been acquired through fraudulent means. Whenever that occurs, we close the account and investigate it along with the police, its bank protocol.” You scoffed, “I haven’t committed any type of fraud. The person who reported it was lying or mistaking me for someone else.” Yuri didn’t seem fazed at all by your accusation, he simply hummed and waited until you finished. “Unfortunately, it comes from a highly respectable source. If the investigation proves inconclusive, the account along with the funds will be returned to you anywhere from two to three weeks from now.” His tone was too polite. Too professional. As if he was talking about the weather when in reality he was accusing you of committing a crime.

How would you survive two to three weeks without money? You couldn’t very well leech off of Sihyeon. You needed to pay rent, you needed to survive. Why – That’s exactly why they had done it. You could feel the wrath completely consume you. It was better than letting the sorrow win. It was better than giving up and succumbing. Anger was always better. You were so unbelievably angry until you saw the text from Sihyeon.

Sihyeon: I need you to pack your things and move out.

Y/l/n Y/n: Why?

Sihyeon: Jeonhan says you’re a bad influence. Yoongi told him everything that happened between the two of you. Why didn’t you tell me?

Y/l/n Y/n: You don’t understand. He’s lying.

Sihyeon: I don’t, and I can’t. I’m sorry but I need you gone within the week.

Sihyeon: Jeonhan threatened to leave me if you didn’t… I can’t lose him.

Sihyeon: Please understand.

You understood. How couldn’t you? Now that you had lost everything there was only one choice. You clicked on contacts and scrolled down to find the name of the man who you loved the most. Tears welled in your eyes, snot came out your nose, your lips trembled uncontrollably until you heard the familiar sound of the phone being picked up. You wish you could’ve remained silent but instead, you broke down. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Hoseok. Please…” He didn’t reply simply hung up the phone. That was all it took for your last string of hope to break. You willed yourself up, beginning to place your belongings into a bag. You could come back for the other items later if you would come back. Dressing into some comfortable clothing you searched up the nearest women’s shelter intending to walk there. It was a forty-five-minute walk but escaping the four walls that surrounded you sounded like a good idea. Maybe you could have sold some of the presents they had given you, or resell some of your more expensive clothes, but some part of you knew nothing good would come from that. Instead, you walked out of your bedroom, into the hall, you were about to turn towards the door when something caught your eye. The frame of Sihyeon and you had been taken off the wall, hanging on the nail was the necklace Taehyung had given you. You debated on whether to take it before grabbing it off the wall and clasping it around your neck.

When you reached the outside of the apartment complex there was a black Bentley Bentayga parked alongside the curve. Your heart sped up thinking it could be him, only to be disappointed when someone else stepped out of the driver’s seat. Only to then be confused when he strolled over to you, “Excuse me Miss Y/l/n. My name is Bo I’ve been sent by Mr. Jung to escort you to him.” It was a bad decision but all the previous times you had made ‘good rational’ ones had led you to where you were now. So it couldn’t be helped that you got into the car and allowed Bo to drive you to God knows where. You also couldn’t help the way your heart jumped with glee at the possibility of seeing him again. Though it broke your heart, you couldn’t ask Hoseok to choose between you and them. You also understood that what Hoseok felt towards you was not love, no matter how much you wished that it was. It was an unhealthy, controlling, possessive obsession; just like the rest of them. Hoseok didn’t see you as an equal but something to own. To consume. The ride had lasted an hour and a half, your phone slowly losing reception the further away you got from the city and the denser the forests became. It was when you passed by a small sign that opened into a clearing that you recognized where you were. The North Jeolla Province distinguishable from all the others as was the mountain area where the driver had turned into the place you had visited nearly two months ago with the seven men, the place where you had celebrated your birthday, the place where you witnessed exactly what the men were capable of doing in the name of love.

As the car pulled into the area where the Hanoks were, you wondered whether or not you would soon join the rotting bodies buried underneath the ground. When you laid eyes upon the man standing outside the main Hanok, his eyes peering into the car window and the heart-shaped smile on his face, you were almost certain you would.

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flowerflamestars · 5 years

Text

Bound and Blessed

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX PART SEVEN PART EIGHT PART NINE PART TEN

Under the false fire of will-o-wisp light, the stormy heart of the Archeron estate had never been colder.

Not the great house built for show and status, or the warded secret spaces the sister’s had carved out. The true beating heart was this: a sloping stone half circle designed by Nesta, mimicking luna phases. Where Elain had planted roses with her own hands, mixed them with everything from fickle jasmine to hardy hollyhock and lethal foxglove. Where Lucien had bled, until the three of them had a new world. Inauspicious tonight under feet of snow, features lost under the white, white blanket, the phantom heartbeat of power thrummed beneath Lucien’s feet. Danger, warning, like the living land understood the risk they were taking. The moonless sky overhead that they’d been waiting for was long shrouded by the storm, gentle snowflakes drifting down. When the silence broke, it was from the steady beat of mighty wings. Like winnowing was too easy, like they hadn’t all been living in the same house a short walk away, Rhysand, accompanied by his Shadowsinger and General, slammed down into the snow. “Dramatic,” Nesta hissed. Lucien didn’t hold in the sharp edge of his smile. They’d been waiting in the snow for the High Lord to show up for more than half an hour already. Standing in a snowdrift, refusing to shiver, Rhys hadn’t put Nesta in her place if that was his intention. He’d enraged a woman on the brink of committing murder. Already leaking a steady trickle of flame into the the air that Nesta would insist she didn’t need if he asked, Lucien stepped closer, bloomed the heat higher, careful not to melt the snow. He was gratified by the infinitesimal further straightening of her spine, radiating strength and comfort. As though they were ever going to quail, just because the High Lord of the Night Court was a prick. Rhysand folded black wings and came to a stop, not in front of Nesta, but him, like he was planning to negotiate with Lucien. A stupid prick. But sharp-honed weapons that they were, both the Illyrian’s were looking at Nesta. Lucien knew damn well what they were seeing, familial pride widening his smile. Silvered fur and velvet drained of color in the dark, throwing back the battlefield haunting green and gold firelight of will-o-wisps who’d congregated around and above her as thought magnetized. Deep hood up, all that showed was the sharp curve of bones. A deaths head. A woman veiled in menace. Nesta looked more like a damned faery than any of them. Elain had told him once human children were taught were the beauty of High Fae was a weapon, beguilement that led to ruin. It was true, if a double edged sword: magic responded to beauty, called upon willpower and grace with favor. With his usual flare for the dramatic, Rhysand summoned the indestructible contract onto the low stone wall between them. “This was not necessary.” Nesta didn’t move or speak. Lucien bared his teeth in reply when Rhysand was stupid enough to look at him for an answer. Met with silence, Rhysand tucked his hands into his pockets. “Do you really think not telling your sister about this is right?” Nesta pushed back her hood. Crowned in faery gold, each ornament was sharp enough to kill, laced with carefully slow floral poison. An early solstice gift, from Elain and Lucien together. His heart crowed to see her wear it: family, fierce and true. “Does Feyre have any governmental authority in the Night Court?” A twist of anger, barely contained: a point to Nesta. Emissary was not a command position. Lucien was sure it paid in the North, the richest court in Prythian. But until Rhysand addressed those crowns he dressed her in and gave away a piece of his absolute power, Feyre had none. Rhysand wasn’t done. “You could have just asked, for any of this. Do think so little of faeries that we wouldn’t take in children, provide safe port for your ships?” So very stupid. Somewhere along the way, Feyre had taken the clear fact that Nesta and Elain despised Rhysand- a liar, a Lord who’d spent centuries building reputation as nightmare, the second kidnapper of their little sister- and decided they hated faeries. What mental gymnastics were required to deal with Lucien’s presence in comparison, he couldn’t imagine. “I am asking,” Nesta ground out, voice colder than the falling snow. And then, tone wholly different and wounding, “Promise kept and bound, beneath the sky.” An Illyrian proverb. Lucien had seen the stack of books at the corner of her desk: old words for alliance, for binding and bloodshed. Cassian was staring. Lucien had to actually blink away the ties of seething gold that spooled between them, bright and violent to only his eyes. It had been years since he’d been able to see them, anything like them- more than a scent or a feeling. Proof of that growing, hungry star beneath his ribs? Or was Nesta- beloved and fearless and theirs- already in the depths? Point two to Nesta: Rhysand was slipping out of his feigned casual stance, sliding into the dangerous stillness of the High Fae. “We make promises in ink, in the North,” He tried on last time, purple eyes gleaming inhuman in the dark. “Would you accept that?” The loyal-hearted Generals’ head snapped toward Rhys like he’d been offered personal affront. Honest, unguarded- and wounded. With a low, long sigh, the Shadowsinger rocked a step forward before the whole night could descend into chaos. “Section three, clause two,” Azriel recited, ignoring his High Lord, “One action performed personally by the Shadowsinger of the Night Court, to be sworn secret until such time it is necessary to the war effort. Do you want me to kill someone?” For the first time in the long cold night, Nesta didn’t look angry. “No bloodshed of any kind will be required.” Easy, Azriel inclined his head. “I accept.” “Az.” In a shudder of dark power, ignoring his High Lord completely, Azriel pressed a fingertip to the paper. Blood smeared, no cut that Lucien had been able to see made feeding the contract. Nesta inclined her head in return. Elain had been sure the Illyrians would side with them. Honor, she’d reminded Lucien, while Nesta bled and grumbled, Lucien periodically healing away the loss. Look at the way they respond when we fight with Feyre and Rhysand, they don’t want to be here. Lucien wished she were here to see it. Hours spent on what to include, the contract was every inch her work as much as theirs. Long lapsed into tired insouciance, Elain had tossed her legs over his lap to talk, unbound curls a cloud against the back of the low chaise she’d talked him into carrying to the library. Hands full of her heavy silk skirts, as much a pleasing anchor as a reminder to himself not to reach for more, Lucien couldn’t have moved if the world were burning down. “She’ll be offended by the entire thing,” Elain had mused, leaning back. “Was she this stupid about Tamlin?” Nesta replied, sprawled on the floor before a low tea table- also carried in by Lucien- bleeding into a copper bowl. Lucien healed her again without being asked. “No,” He said automatically, before Elain’s disbelieving dark eyes found him. “Yes. Different, but”- “But Rhysand is her mate,” Nesta interrupted, without looking up. A condemnation, in her voice. Elain snagged one of his full hands, hooking two fingertips beneath the red ribbon around his wrist. Lucien tried to swallow down his seized heart at the word, focused instead on the feeling of Elain’s pearl bracelet sliding over his skin. “Feyre is going to be furious,” Elain amended, knuckles against Lucien’s unsteady pulse. “I’ll keep her distracted.” So rather than out in the snow, the third face of their efforts where she belonged, Elain was entertaining the sister she was still furious with. If he looked away from Rhysand’s scowl, Lucien probably could have found her, light blazing from one high glass walled room of the main house. Found her heartbeat through the dark. But first Lucien had to perform the savage magic of his forest home. Because the Archeron sisters had decided promises didn’t matter much to the most powerful High Lord in Prythian. Instead, they’d built a trap, laid a curse, bound from their bloodline to his. Their audacity alone was a pride. Rhysand had picked up the contract and begun reading aloud. “Safe passage and stipend to all orphan wards to the Archeron estate. Legal freehold status to any and all Archeron vassals who choose to seek a home in the Night Court at the advent of war. Legal recognition of House Archeron and all her employees from the Royal Guild of Trade, the Great Bank of the North, and the Court of the High Lord as free entities. Do you think we wouldn’t accept refugees?” “I think,” Fae and furious, Nesta snapped, “That it will take an incredible amount of magic to winnow several hundred people to safety. Feyre wants Elain and I safe in the North? Then every man, woman, and child who belongs to this land will be offered the same, or we won’t go.” Horribly, Rhysand was starting to eye her with something closer to intrigued disbelief than rage. “The last page,” He breathed, “Zero independent intervention into any ongoing military operations under the authority of House Archeron. If there an army hiding in your shipments of cloth and grain, Banfhlaith?” Like he didn’t notice he was doing it, Cassian took the last two steps toward Nesta’s rigid form. Honor, Elain had said. Fealty, Lucien agreed. He could scent it, burning bright. “Do you accept or not, High Lord?” Lucien had the thought that when they got close enough to actually perform the binding Nesta was going to stab Rhysand in the throat, if only for that smirk as she recited his title. “Why should I?” Rhysand asked silkly, bleeding false charm. “I would give you half this without lifting a finger, no foul magic from Vanserra forcing me.” Azriel sighed again. Out of one wide fur lined sleeve, pale hands gilded in the light, Nesta pulled free a filigreed square of paper and held it out. The High dragged it to himself with a gust of frozen night air, the backlash sending ice into Nesta’s face. Someday soon, one of the sisters was going to stab him, and Lucien was going to be right there breaking bone, High Lord of no. Rhysand took it, read, and laughed. A favor, Elain had whispered in delight that night Lucien had learned of Velaris. Buried with our father’s treasure. Merchants call them markers- when our great-great-great grandfathers grandfather was bound to the secret city, he was gifted one magic token, a single favor from the hand of the High Lord Rhain. Twelve generations had kept it, and now Nesta would entrap Rhain’s son with his word. Wild and bloody magic cared for boldness. �� Lucien had honestly wondered if Rhysand would try to kill them for even the suggestion, after Amarantha. Instead, he grimaced in an unwilling amusement. “Very well, Nesta Archeron, first of your name, oldest of your line.” One more huffed, hollow laugh, before Rhysand held out his hand for her take. “But if you do this, we’re allies in the war. No more secrets. And you’re going to tell me where the hell you got a note written by my dead father.” Nesta pulled a bare blade from the small of her back, and smiled. “It’s an heirloom,” She said, reaching out to grip his tattooed wrist without a flicker of fear. “The first generation of merchants were favored.” Rhys grunted as she sliced his palm, far deeper than the spell required. The cut on her own hand was shallow, but bled and bled, thin mortal blood spilling over the curved blade. Not Spring Court make or one of Nesta’s commissions, the keen slice of moonlight in her hand was Illyrian steel, forged of fallen stars. Singing steel, they called it, like it spoke to the Illyrians as the wind and skies themselves did. Lucien could imagine where she’d gotten it. They joined bleeding hands over the contract, and Nesta reached for Lucien. Out of the corner of his eye Lucien caught the half-contained motion as Cassian twitched at the sight of Nesta taking his hand. Tension bled into the air, already thick with blood and promise. “The oldest of two generations,” Rhysand breathed. “A bloodline curse, Vanserra? Barbaric.” Trickle down- a broken word would not just kill the the subject of binding, but cascade through their family line wreaking ruin before death took hold. Not simply murder: an ill-wish, humans called it. A cataclysm. An Autumn specialty- other court’s High Fae might pretend they weren’t so savage, but the truth was, most of them had lost the art. Power liked reciprocity, but a curse couldn’t be truly even. Elain and Nesta hadn’t just grabbed for what they wanted: they’d set in a motion a situation that made them powerful in their right, their people safe and needs met, the High Lord backed into a corner at their behest. It made the binding tighter. “No moon,” Azriel murmured, shadows wreathed about his shoulders. The North knew curses too. Rhysand inclined his head and intoned, “Written of blood.” Stealing the first words would have given him more wiggle room, the prick, if Lucien hadn’t been spinning curses since the cradle. Fresh blood filled the air as Nesta squeezed his hand in retaliation, dripping down her wrist. “Bound of bone.” How Rhysand could believe he could take from this bargain, like he could actually intimidate her, Lucien couldn’t imagine. Nesta’s iron grip was enough that blood was ruining her dress sleeve, sticking to her fur cloak. Power, stifling and raw, filled the garden. Together, they continued. “We bind our will, beneath the crone.” Rhysand’s wings snapped out as the curse took hold, the air shimmering to mirage with Lucien’s fire in the air. Blood flowed backward, fresh and red as out of the vein. A tide receding, from the contract up their joined hands to sink beneath skin. Blood for blood, life for life, a promise bound. Nesta didn’t flinch. *** Cassian’s joints didn’t unlock until Lucien winnowed Nesta away. Blood on her hands, only standing by sheer force of will, she was glorious. The air itself had sung, with a blade in her hand. “You ever feel like the Mother herself is fucking with you?” Rhys asked, flexing his healed hand. Knotwork and ink on his palms and wrists that matched Feyre, but now until the promise was kept, bloody red words in Nesta’s precise hand raced beneath the skin of his knuckles. Because Rhys had apologized, because Cassian needed to ignore that his whole body was helplessly alight, he fell into the ease of laughing back. “Dawn mother or night mother?” Illyrian gods, not the Mother, the threefold goddess High Fae believed in like she walked the world with them. Rhys huffed back, but when he looked up from his hand to meet Cassian’s eyes, his face was tired. “Cas, I could smell your blood.” *** Elain, in the aftermath of fighting with Feyre hadn’t spent the next two days placidly cutting orchids as their guests seemed to assume. Screened from Night Court eyes and gnashing her teeth- the punishment for treason was death, and Feyre knew it. Death to their entire family, death to every vassal; and Feyre had linked them to the authority of a High Lord of Prythian. The death warrant was signed- the first thing Elain did was sink her hands into soft black soil and pulled free a golden acorn. Impervious, dirt shed from its gleaming surface onto her palm all at once, leaving gold phantom warm and sun bright. So small- so terribly important in the course of her life. It fit in a skirt pocket, presumably only detectable to faeries as a slice of magic, a taste of Lucien’s scent on her. Explainable- so ordinary as to not even be worth mentioning. Ordinary, her thoughts raced on. Lucien was a part of her life. Her’s and Nesta, family. Theirs. Hers- how dare Feyre- two High Lords, two kidnappers, but marrying Lucien was a problem? There were layers and twists to her fury- Feyre thought Elain was incapable of making her own decisions, Rhysand thought they were somehow under his authority because of his not quite relationship with their baby sister- but not a ripple showed as Elain floated through the next three days. She showed up to breakfast and drank tea with quiet, polite Azriel. Bantered ever so lightly with Cassian, when Nesta wasn’t in the room rendering him deaf and blind to all else. Learned the foreign body language that seemed to take up half of how they related to one another: Azriel’s disappearing shadows and right wing that practically reached right out to tap Cassian. Those wickedly curved, surely sharp spiked wing-joints over Cassian’s shoulders that jumped with nerves, practically disappeared with tension. Elain didn’t have Nesta’s enormous childhood fascination with stories of honor and flight to back up what she learned, but for soldiers- they were so clearly soldiers, she didn’t need their titles or scarred hands to tell her the story their constant armament and posture did- neither seemed inclined toward keeping a blank face around her. Anger, rage, all the while a slow trickle behind her eyes. People looked at Elain- her much fairer curling hair, her heart shaped face and dimples- and forgot entirely she was as Archeron as Nesta. Her older sister would burn a threat to the ground. Elain was something more subtle, if only in the worlds eyes. Carefully distilled foxglove in Rhysand’s tea proved as fruitless as Lucien had said it would, but it did make Elain feel better. Not so much better though, that when choosing the task of keeping Feyre occupied, Elain didn’t have to smile her widest fake charitable ball smile and then give into the vindictive urge to march Feyre across the house to her quarters. An hour, she estimated, long enough for Nesta and Lucien to throw their net around Rhysand. Elain could smile for an hour. It had taken two nights to write the contract. Lucien’s idea, Nesta’s words, Elain’s trap in the form of an heirloom their bastard father had hidden while they starved through winters. Every fail-safe and nuance they could think of covered: citizenship, freehold farmland, safety for their many men at sea. Flaith Archeron would simply become a lordship in another territory, and thanks to Nesta’s financial machinations, the money and business would stay in the sisters legal grip, even if Lord Archeron reappeared. On the third night, dragging a tiredness that made her long for Lucien’s warmth beside her, Elain retired early. She truly was tired- of fake smiling, of the way Rhysand looked at Lucien like he was just waiting for him to bare his throat, of Feyre’s stories about bakeries and piers and art galleries in Velaris- but the moment her door was shut behind her, fiery ward spells scenting the air like love, a steady pulse of adrenaline started in her veins. Three twists of an acorn stem. Red silk ribbons in her hair to call enchantment down. If it all it did was call Lucien, she wouldn’t be upset. But watching Nesta bleed for them- waiting for an apology from Feyre that wouldn’t come- Elain had to try something. Three breathless recitations of the Lady of Autumn’s name, before the silent, still night bled into Elain’s roaring ears. Nothing. Just gold that smelled like fire, warm as the summer sun in her palm. Elain waited. Long enough that she was readying herself to leave again- exhausted but sleeping shores still so very distant- to track down whatever Nesta was doing in her usual insomnia nightly hours or find Lucien, when the scent in the air changed. Fire, and fire still- but spiced, blooming, a bonfire on a holiday night. Elain closed her eyes and breathed. Sorcha, Sorcha, Sorcha, queen unbroken. Family, she’d called Elain, left a stolen crown of unimaginable power perched in her hair that rejected it’s own bloodline. When Elain opened her eyes, a satchel sat on the vanity before her. Heavy russet velvet, embroidered in red and green. Too delicate for any purpose a human would carry a bag so large for, too fine to be made by anything but faery hands. The fastening buckle was a an oak leaf of solid, shinning gold. With hands that trembled, Elain pulled free the clasp, and laughed. The note, on paper so creamy and thick the part of Elain that was Archeron practically wanted to weigh it for grade, was scrawled in a perfect hand. Darling mortal daughter, Sorcha had written, for ease here among the fields of wheat, I thought we might write. Anything in the satchel will be delivered straight to my hand. Elain pressed her hand to her mouth, biting knuckles in an attempt to choke down the slightly hysteric giggle. Wheat- the banner of the Day Court, where Sorcha had ordered they come for any aid. The Lady of Autumn had gotten out. It is good to hear you are in the sunshine, Elain replied, I look forward to such weather myself, but it is Northern climes in my immediate future, unfortunately. Storms have come early this year, but our trees are still baring fruit. I wonder if you might advise how to bolster the branches of our oak trees under the onslaught? Reply was immediate, ink shining damply. At the least, mountains provide an excellent refuge from the wind. It is my belief snow will fall thickly in future months, be of mind the harvest must be gathered and sent out before then. I look forward to your eventual arrival- please do wear your hair as it was last we met, was so terribly fetching, and will be perfect for the warmer climes. How and what Sorcha might know of the Archeron’s fell harvest, Elain couldn’t imagine, but she’d heed the warning. Months- they had less than that left safely in their home, barely more to send out that last, fatal round of ships. She was still thinking about it the next night, as she smiled winsome over dinner and asked Feyre for company. Which brought her to very properly holding up her skirts to keep up with Feyre’s longer legs as they walked up the grand eastern staircase, a steady stream of questions Feyre clearly wasn’t interested in knowing the answer to standing in for any kind of apology. As though Elain had actually handpicked every curtain in this house, as though Feyre had ever cared about tapestries. She wondered what Feyre would say if she told her the truth: they’d picked colors they liked, and ordered in bulk from fabric mills at the discretion of proprietresses to choose the height of fashion. These public spaces were about luxury- the kind that made them blend back in with the gentry- and said nothing about Elain or Nesta’s personal taste. The rooms Elain led her to at the easternmost rise of the house were something else entirely. Solid ash wood doors swung open, slivered wood safe out of Feyre’s grip, to usher them into a world of softness. Bright hand-woven rugs on the floor, practical but still fine pale wooden furniture that called back to the silvery sky colored walls. The plush room before them was a dozen shades of blue and cream, blending seamlessly without being dull; calculated to soothe. Feyre ran a hand over the back of a royal blue couch, the velvet whooshing softly against her palm. Nothing like the delicate furniture downstairs: squashy, so plush it practically sagged. “This is beautiful.” Elain swallowed the poison on her tongue. “It’s yours.” Soundless, Elain sidestepped around where Feyre had frozen, weaving between more soft, practical furniture and past a roaring white marble fireplace Lucien had lit for her earlier. The doors to the left were glass, and when Elain threw them open, Feyre’s breath caught. Fast as the High Fae she was now, her baby sister sped to the doorway and paused. Everything Nesta and Elain had carefully chosen gleamed under golden faelight: paint and paper, fabric and thread, easel and drafting table, the glass walls that enclosed the studio crystalline with frost. “Its…mine?” Feyre asked. Elain let out a long breath through her nose and made herself look at her sister’s wide blue eyes. “The last time you were here the house wasn’t finished. The other doors lead to a bedroom; it’s blue and white, and of course we can personalize it to your taste if you prefer something else. The doors will have to be replaced." Feyre’s face twisted, nose scrunching. She’d said terrible things, endangered them all, but for a second, Feyre looked like exactly who she was: Elain’s still teenaged sister, overwhelmed by emotion she didn’t easily put into words. “No,” Feyre said, reaching out to touch with two fingers the smooth surface of an entire shelf of paints, “Don’t change anything, it’s perfect. It’s beautiful, Elain.” Elain nodded with a small smile and absolutely did not think or say, pity we’ll have to leave it forever or face execution. Waiting on the threshold while Feyre explored, exclaiming over color variety and touching each kind of paper Nesta had scoured imports for carefully. Brushes caressed, easel poked at, Feyre eventually stopped on the opposite side of the room from Elain, against that wall of night-dark glass. “The gardens are bellow, right?” Elain walked in, placing herself before the shelves. Calmly. Her luck held as Feyre walked away from the window, away from the slice of possible view of their sister out in the snow wielding magic. “Yes, just like when you were a child. This was a library, then, your bedroom is in exactly the same spot.” Feyre tilted her head thoughtfully. The motion was wrong to the eye: human gestures, high fae features. None of the keenness that bled from the gesture on other faerie faces, none of the knives edge that Nesta’s face made. “I wondered,” Feyre admitted. “But I don’t really remember it, and Rhys wanted us all doubled up, for safety.” Elain had the presences of mind to smile and nod as she led Feyre back out of the rooms and downstairs. Yes, she could imagine exactly the sort of safety Rhysand was providing, sleeping in the same tiny guest room as her sister. She knew Feyre hadn’t slept there, her first night home. Had missed when Feyre switched rooms. After the first fight? Safety. That ridiculous prick. “You know,” Elain said, “The wards here are blood bound. You’re as safe anywhere on Archeron land as I am. It’s your home too.” Feyre made an odd little noncommittal noise in return. “I’ve never seen blood magic before.” The phrase sounded even more off in her mouth; the difference between Nesta saying Vanserra- with love, with friendship, no matter how sharp she was- and Rhysand saying Vanserra, like Lucien’s name was a curse. And why would Feyre have ever seen it? The long and deadly traditions of the Autumn Court, Lucien’s mother’s power unstoppable in his veins. Magic that could rise to mortal hands and lived in the hollows of Prythians land. Why would she- no humans had ever been allowed to live in the Night Court. Elain raised her chin. Took a deep breath made invisible by the tight strays of her fashionable gown, and gathered the thick fabric in her hands. “This way,” Her voice, she was proud, came out affable as ever, “There’s hot chocolate in the drawing room, and I made cookies last night. You’d adore our cook, she’s been teaching me how to bake. Do you like snickerdoodles?” Feyre liked anything with cinnamon and sugar, had since she was a toddler. A painfully obvious relief on her face, Feyre nodded with a smile. Elain led her on. *** So very many people feared Azriel. The scars and cold menace, that sheer fact that Shadowsingers were a breed apart, something more magic than being to speak to the darkness and hear it whisper back. But Azriel was also kind. No amount of blood on his hands would ever change that, and nothing would ever change that Cassian was lucky to have him as a brother, no matter who their actual father’s were. Cassian was lucky now, that Az was on his side. “Rhys,” Az cut into the growing tension, worse- so much worse to have this fight right here and now, Cassian could still smell Nesta’s blood on Rhy’s hands, Cassian couldn’t breathe- because Cassian would never, ever apologize for what he’d done. He waited until purple eyes swung away from Cassian. Their dearest friend, their older brother, but also and always, their High Lord. “Rhys,” Azriel insisted again, terrible, something those shadows whispered to him making his voice cold, “Why is Nesta a problem, but not Elain?” Cassian was going to rattle out of his skin. With a twist of his mouth that said he knew damn well he wasn’t completely right, Rhys didn’t answer the question. “You didn’t have to agree like that. She could make you do anything, kill anyone.” Cassian swallowed. He’d known- he knew- what Nesta had asked. That this would hit Rhysand in all the worst possible by ways after the last fifty years. But also- what choice did she have? There were no humans in the Night Court. No safe place for them, no laws to protect them. Nothing but the Archeron sisters and Lucien’s power standing between several hundred humans being killed, if not in the war than by the Queens, by royal law that any of the surrounding estates could bring down on their heads at any time. Nesta did what she had to, to get her people out. Without harming the Night Court, or the war effort. Stone-faced, Azriel crossed his arms. The shadows coiled down his jaw, whispered and keened and wept things Cassian couldn’t imagine. More, Cassian realized suddenly, than he knew. Azriel was not just backing up Cassian, not simply trying to stop more conflict. “Nesta Archeron does not lie.” Brow crinkling in surprise, Rhys looked between Cassian who knew damned well every unbearably honest, real thing his face was saying, and Azriel, leaking an icy anger into the air that even Cassian couldn’t fully explain. Rhys said finally, slow, “She let Feyre go into those woods alone every day- she’s the oldest, she should have”- “Their father should have,” Cassian growled before he’d made the choice to speak. “Are you fucking kidding me? They don’t even- their father technically owns them under human law. Feyre was probably safer in those woods than around mortal men.” It hit too close to home. Everything here, built from Tamlins money and turned into a prosperous future by insane risk and wild cleverness. Every piece forged- from paying back their father’s debts to the property they owned outright with his granted permission. So much worse than rising to anger in response, Rhys shook his head. “Cassian.” “What was I supposed to do, Rhys? Let Feyre’s sister bleed?” Feyre’s sister, like that was what mattered. Cassian loved Feyre- a sister, a friend- but Nesta was every godsgiven sunrise he’d ever seen and they’d destroyed her future. “We put Feyre’s entire family and hundreds of people in danger.” Cassian had spent the three days it took the moon to fade in the Archeron library. Learning history, utterly foreign laws. Five hundred years ago the Queens were grateful and desperate for the help of the High Lords. Centuries later, enmeshed the in the politics of the continent, they despised the wild magic of Prythian: more powerful and infinitely more dangerous than their homelands. They were tyrants with magical gifts leftover from the War, and the eldest Archeron sisters had been committing treason to stay alive, safe a thousand miles away. The punishment for crimes against the crown wasn’t just dolled out to those who committed it, when they had royal blood in their veins. “Rhysand,” Azriel murmured, glacial. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t.” “Feyre just wants them safe, they’re not fighters.” Rhys said, tiredly, too many shadows in his voice to a be a full truth. “She’s going to hate all of us for this,” He waved those blood-red knuckles, words racing, “But I’m not going to ignore that she needs her whole family safe from Hybern’s hunters if we’re going to get through this.” Her whole family. Azriel beat Cassian to words, voice horror enough he was certain Az knew something he didn’t. “If you let that man near his daughters, I’ll kill him myself.” Less surprised than he should have been- Rhys knew he was wrong- Rhysand swung his face toward Cassian, like this was a vote, like so many things had been these long years, for all that they were all young in immortal life. The wave of pain from Nesta that had driven him out of his mind: not normal sorrow, no uneasy resentment toward a mediocre parent. Azriel wouldn’t tell them secrets unless they were pertinent, would keep his dark honor. Cassian didn’t need it to know Nesta would probably try to eliminate her father herself with half the opportunity; he’d just be one of the several willing hands to aid. Singing steel had sung for her- would she ever let him take her into the skies? “Why can’t we just leave him in that prison?” He knew damn well they couldn’t. Hybern wanted Feyre alive, it would be laughably easy to use a mortal relative out in the world to draw her from their defenses. Rhys rubbed a hand over his face. Around them the wind blew. Snow and ice of a growing blizzard, but more to their ears. A second wave of the storm coming, cold that sang secrets, air that carried the tint of bloody magic, and just for Cassian: that flameless fire that would burn his world. Rhys heard just enough to fly, for the mountains to call him home again and again. He’d never followed Feyres voice through the air, could never fly blind with solely the currents and his heart to lead him. Illyrian but not- more, depending on who was speaking- High Fae, but apart. Cassian’s brother in every way that mattered, who he didn’t want to be set against. They were the Court of Dreams. But here: fearless Nesta, cunning Elain, and even banished Lucien. Their sort of people- they wanted the same things, a new world, a better world, their people’s survival. Dreamers. He couldn’t understand how Rhys couldn’t see it, but he also knew it wasn’t a logical response. As though he was focusing all his tempering on giving Feyre room to grow into herself, and there was none left to rein in that Rhys couldn’t actually go on hating her sisters for the lack of an apology Feyre didn’t even want. Besides the impossible things Cassian himself wanted, let himself think in the night hours when he kept running into her, his very face an embarrassment. Nesta: a generals keen eyes and an Illyrian heart, a bright fragile flame through the dark. He couldn’t- wouldn’t- choose. Hadn’t they all been taught the same lessons under starlight, in the gentle voice of the High Lady who was the only mother Cassian had ever known? Let no one take your wings, let no one take your love. They will tell you Illyrians are born to die. You are born for war. Because no victory can be won without a true heart, no forest can flourish without fire. No Illyrian wouldn’t fight to the death for what was theirs, for what they loved and held in promise. Let no one take it away. Let the song of the wind guide you. Cassian wanted to know what Az did, but he couldn’t help but be aware that if he did, the Acheron’s father wouldn’t be long in the world. Azriel’s face said, prison is too kind. Despite having his head up his ass, Rhys was taking note of the look too. “You can’t?” Az shook his head. He’d done terrible things so that they wouldn’t have to, kept council with the secrets of the world. It was his honor: unless it couldn’t be avoided, unless it was necessary, Azriel wouldn’t tell personal tales. Rhysand sighed. “We’ll leave him to rot, but I want eyes on the City of Gods.” Az dipped his head in agreement, but didn’t leave Cassian’s side. “Cas,” Rhys started and stopped, sighing out a billow of white as snow fell in earnest between them. “I’m not saying you’re compromised- just be careful.” Compromised- it was an effort, to choke down the hurt and temper. Harder, with the smell of Nesta’s blood on his brother’s skin. The knowledge that he’d left her waiting in the snow-tiny and mortal in the storm- cold as killing mountain frost. Compromised, like Cassian had ever taken a single disloyal breath. He swallowed. “I’m always careful.” *** Elain’s estimate was off by only a few minutes. The clatter of Feyre’s cup crashing against the saucer told her that error of time had spooled in the wrong direction before Elain could look up. Snow sliding off his wet hair and turning to mist, bleeding red fading to intermix with gold, the sheer feral triumph on Lucien’s bright face froze her in place for moment. Beauty that said deadly, a fanged grin that said conquest, told her: we won. Wild, her heart galloped in her chest as Elain rose. Lucien had already made quick, graceful work of laying Nesta down on a chaise; one arm around her shoulder, the other caught in the death grip of Nesta’s bloody hands. Half risen, Feyre was staring at those rusty smears, at least half a wine dark shade more purpled than mortal blood that Elain herself knew to be viscous and staining. “Nesta, what happened?” Her older sister ignored the question, swatting away Lucien’s hands as he tried to unbuckle the twin sickle shaped knives belted over her gown. No wound visible beneath all the blood that had run so freely as to ruin her sleeves, but a fresh silvered scar across her palm that flashed magic-made in the candlelight. She cracked open one bloodshot eye. “Fey, settle something for me. Rhysand’s wings: a ludicrous intimidation tactic or a stupid show of trust?” Lucien laughed, Feyre’s head swinging toward him with a look of betrayal. “He’s half-Illyrian,” Feyre replied, like it was nothing. One arm flung over her parchment pale face, Nesta laughed through cracked lips. “Illyrian? Oh, the crowns. Has he tried to touch your hair little Fey? Breathed in your voice? Cry’thyra, under a boundless sky?” “Is she drunk?” Elain shook out her skirt, spreading it a little more than strictly necessary until the flounces half hid the chaise behind her. “Of course not, she’s perfectly fine." In beat, in time, stepping so close the warmth radiating from his body left goosebumps rising on her skin, Lucien stood up beside her, blocking Nesta off from Feyre entirely. “We had to conduct a small ritual.” Small ritual- Elain couldn’t contain a smile. They’d bound a High Lord of Prythian to their people, cursed the Lord of Nightmares himself in vital, inescapable bonds. With a thud that even faery grace imbued in her long limbs couldn’t contain, Feyre slid her knee off the couch, rising fully. Looked between Lucien and Elain- and Elain for just a second, let herself imagine what her younger sister was seeing: his sun-brown face in the depths of winter, riven with scars and gold. A beauty that was savagely fae and as familiar to Elain as her own breath. Elain herself, shoulder brushing his arm, velvet and fashionable enforced silk spooling out from her waist, more comfortable here beside him than she’d been charming Feyre. Nesta, intoxicated on a force that felt like swallowing stars, was still crooning advice, in and out of the common tongue. “Does he give you braids too? Ask after his gifts, littlest sister. Cry’thyra, vost sha’llan fa thye. Turn your face into the wind.” Pink was gathering, high of Feyre’s cheeks. “She’s magic drunk?” Her voice had gone small. “Mhmm,” Lucien agreed, reaching behind Elain faerie fast and finally managing to wrestle away Nesta’s daggers, quicker than she could see. “We’ll get some food in her, should pass quickly.” “I know Azriel is,” Feyre waved a hand toward her face that Elain didn’t want to interpret- scary? Did Feyre really think that any of them had it left in them to be afraid of faeries?- Azriel was quiet and polite, horrifically powerful, but from what Elain could note, both kind and honorable along with it. Even Lucien, who he’d tried to drag into the dark, respected him. “But he’s a very skilled healer? I could send him up?” He also, unlike Elain or Lucien, would doubtless speak the language Nesta was still murmuring. It wasn’t something her older sister would want, anymore than she’d want Feyre to see her like this. Somewhere behind those alien but familiar blue eyes, Feyre seemed to be coming to the same conclusion. “Let me know, if she’s alright?” Elain reached across the table to squeeze her hand for just a second. “Of course.” Beneath her touch, the Night Court promises Feyre carried in ink pulsed, quick and angry. An effort, not to fling away her hand at that hostile, intrusive second heartbeat. It wasn’t until the door was shut behind her that Elain spun to Lucien. “We did it? It worked?” Full lips and fanged smile, so breathtaking in triumph that Elain had flung her arms around his neck before Lucien could get out more than a few words. “You were right about the Illyrians and the marker,” He said, sunlit laugh spilling from his mouth. One warm hand wrapped around her wrist, the other looped around her waist as Lucien bent down into her embrace, keeping Elain’s feet from actually leaving the ground. “Elain,” he laughed. She could only grin back. Careful- so slow and careful to watch his golden gaze- Elain slid her linked hands beneath the snow-damp collar of his mortal lords greatcoat, pressed her palms to the back of his neck. Like magic- he was magic, power she’d never stop having questions about, wonder she’d long since stopped trying to hide- Lucien’s head dipped, her thumb sliding down the muscled column of his neck. He swallowed. Elain could hear the click of his dry throat. Behind them, less mocking and a hundred times more fatigued, Nesta muttered. “I am right here.” Elain sighed, and let her hands drift back down, her whole weight against the solid warmth of Lucien’s chest. Turning her head to prop her cheek against him was natural- but surprise enough to Lucien that Elain felt and heard his intake of breath, a second, different triumph lighting her up inside. Because Nesta was Nesta, despite every pointy thing her raised brows were doing, she grinned back at Elain’s smile. Her lip split for her trouble. Lucien’s grimace was loud. “Bastard made us wait in the snow for him. You want a drink, Archeron?” “So long as it’s not that hot chocolate we’ve been feeding Feyre. The good stuff only, Vanserra." The good stuff was pulled out of Elain’s embroidery basket, whiskey from the Winter Court and Archeron estate cider that Lucien reached for only after squeezing Elain’s side with silent acknowledgment that left her skin burning. A full round for all of them- and water, at Lucien’s insistence- later, Nesta got tired of her sticky sleeves. Elain had half unlaced her gown before Lucien hissed in discomfort- Nesta laughing, Vanserra, I know you’re not interested. I’m not stripping- as together the sisters pulled the great velvet mess from Nesta, revealing a full silk undergown and her pale shoulders So it was at their most comfortable- Lucien and Elain sharing both a couch that barely fit Lucien by himself and a glass of whiskey that Lucien grinned at whenever Elain stole it from his grasp; and Nesta, free from the trappings of rank, still lit up with magic, on her second cider and immensely pleased with herself- that Azriel found them. Polite enough to knock, and then stay by the door when he entered, soldiers stance at the ready. “Apologies,” Azriel said, gravel voice hanging barely on the right side of discomfort as he took in the close family circle. “Feyre insisted someone was hurt?” Lucien, in an act of grace that managed to barely jostle Elain, sprang to his feet. And vaulted over the couch, for good measure, to land catlike before him.“The blood scared her.” Dark curls falling in his face, Azriel inclined his head in agreement. “I thought it might be that. But-“ “But Rhysand sent you up here anyway?” An infinitesimal smile flickered over that coldly handsome face. “We’re familiar with the effect of magic-channeled humans.” Nesta, now upright and sprawled over several pillows sighed and set down her glass. “I do perfectly well, but you can assuage fears.” Not Feyre’s fears, Elain couldn’t help but notice. Nesta held out a hand, recited something whose soft sibilant words were completely lost on Elain. Azriel’s dark brows rose by the slightest meter. Striding across the room, Azriel knelt and took her wrist with extreme delicacy. Before murmuring something equally soft back with a warmth that made Lucien grin. He leaned over the top of the delicate sitting room couch they’d both been squished on to whisper in Elain’s ear. “I don’t think Feyre is scared.” She twisted toward his face in reply, lips brushing Lucien’s cheek. Quiet. No matter how quiet they were, Azriel would still hear them. “Notice the knives?” “Singing steel,” Lucien breathed. “How long has she been learning to speak it?.” “You’ll find,” She couldn’t resist whispering back, knew that without Feyre or Rhys or a true outsider in the room, Nesta wouldn’t care, “That the Illyrian section of the library has gone missing into private collection.” Fully ignoring them both, Azriel bowed his head briefly over their joined hands, shadows of the room shifting. Elain’s observation was screened by the fall of bloody red hair, the sharp shape of Lucien’s jaw. An effort to be close and not think- a hunger not foreign, but never acted upon- Elain wanted to bite that jutted shape and let her teeth learn bone, wanted to swallow down the taste and scent of fire that stayed on her skin even hours after Lucien had last touched her in some casual polite way: a hand on her arm, the lingering temptation that never left. But not so much a distraction she wasn’t watching her sister. A weary but given trust- Nesta, who if she could avoid it touched no one but Elain and Lucien; who struggled and hated the rounds of social calling that the gentry required, held the hand of the Shadowsinger, hewn of stone and darkness, and let him use his dark gifts. If Azriel was surprised by her loosened tongue or knowledge of his language it didn’t show, but Elain would swear the ghost of a smile was lingering under that carefully blank expression. So quiet Elain barely heard it at all, but enough that Lucien’s grin sprang to life, stubble rasping over her cheek, Nesta breathed. “We’ll speak tomorrow.” Azriel’s reply must have been all expression, because Nesta nodded. Against Elain’s skin- this night of magic and conquest heady beyond what seemed possible- Lucien mouthed contract, like he’d heard her thoughts. Perfection. With a sigh, Azriel rose to his feet. “You’ll be fine by morning, even from the cold.” Rhysand left them waiting in the snow- the Illyrian’s hailed from fearsome mountains, didn’t they? Cold that could kill. Feyre, if she had actually sent him, was not the real reason their guest had shown up. She’d thought the court was family- if one in fraught disagreement- and didn’t Azriel’s tired of this bullshit eyes confirm it. Elain leaned away from the harbor of Lucien’s embrace. “Can I offer you a drink, Azriel?” Small, but amused in a way that was tangible reminder he heard and understood a thousand times more than was said, Azriel smiled back at her. “Only if you don’t mind my taking it to go. I should get back, tell the others Nesta is going to be fine.” No lie. She’d barely reached before Lucien was pouring, movement blurred to reach. Nesta might have shed blood stained velvet, but Elain had laughingly managed to pull away Lucien’s coat, leaving a furnace and taut muscle visible through silvered silk beside her. Azriel accepted the whiskey with a small toast, before stepping backward into darkness and away. A now blood-free, bright gaze found Elain’s, sharp with happiness. Elain felt the giddiness of victory burst in her chest all over again- a curse, they’d trapped a High Lord of Prythian to protect their people- and found it reflected back in Nestas eyes. Their sister could think they were helpless, their father could burn in hell, but Elain and Nesta had saved their house. Flaith Archeron had stood for more than a thousand years. Together, they’d incontrovertibly changed the tide against there being another thousand. They’d live- they’d survive. Nesta rose, sliding past them with the cloud of her bloody gown discarded over one arm. One battle down, the next coming soon; Elain wondered with a smile if there was a general waiting to wish her sister sleep after this victory. But first, this victory of her own. Alone, Elain reached for Lucien, and Lucien reached back.

@breath-of-sindragosa

@flxwer-petals

@ladyvanserra

@illyrianinterrasen

@missanniewhimsy

@tntwme

@ourbooksuniverse

@pitterpatterpot

@thestarwhowishes

@abillionlittlepieces

@my-fan-side

@the-eightofswords

@wonderland–memories

@ourbooksuniverse

@cohen-theeleven

@donnarosemary

@keshavomit @superspiritfestival @court-of-fandoms-and-art

#We were all waiting for Elain rage #weren't we?#Nestas 12 page written in blood contract is IMMACULATE #Yes Cassian left those knives for her like he was thinking #yes she's been wearing them ever since #yes #AZRIEL IS SO TIRED #Rhys...doesnt really understand what a dick he's being #Spoiler: Lucien actually made the cookies #Elain can't cook to save her life #and doesn't want to #Lady Autumn is very informed #BUT NOT HOW WE THINK #the letters continue #ride or die nessian #elucien #feysand #acomaf au

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trippydooda · 4 years

Text

this is unedited, as a warning for any mistakes you come across. as usual, this is a draft somewhat and will be picked apart before i post it to either Wattpad/AO3.

as for future ratings, i will either refer to it as safe for minors or unsafe for minors. eases some of the ambiguity.

Fandom: ATEEZ

Pairing: Choi San/Park Seonghwa

Rating: safe for minors

Word Count: 1,331

San’s neck itches.

The only thing he hates more than having to stand stoically in such a pretentious suit is standing stoically in a pretentious suit whilst wearing some gaudy masquerade mask. He was a trained assassin, not some pretty pet to add to the ambience of this frankly shrewd ballroom. He knows he should be more concerned with all the possible targets that surely want his pretty face on a pike outside, but he’s more vain than he wants to be so—his appearance is hurt more.

He’s not sure why his fancy suit—with all its sashes and belts, mostly to hide his knives—had to have a hooded mask, makes him stand out more he thinks. The gold snickering mask itself isn’t too bad, he admits, but he’d still rather be not… Here.

“Here” being the kingdom to the south’s castle (he has learned to not bother learning their names, they fall too soon anyway), where the king fancies himself some prophet or some such. San snickers at the thought: some ill-fitted king thinking he’s the “peace bringer” of lands so wrought with chaos they wouldn’t be able to recognise peace if it crawled into its bed. He’s fatter than San thought, that’s one of the things that struck him first. Unmarried as well, which is what this whole ball is about. Finding wives and all.

San sighs. How droll.

Still, he remains not as nonchalant as he wants, when someone catches his eye. He can tell who it is just by the man’s flaunting gait, the way his hair never falls out of place no matter where his limbs are tangled. Maybe it’s just the way San was trained, but he thinks the lace mask isn’t doing shit to cover the man’s identity. Maybe he’s not meant to, San concludes idly as the man comes into earshot.

“Park Seonghwa,” someone whispers into the man’s ear. San rolls his eyes; what a shit whisper. He leans farther in their direction anyway.

“I know,” Seonghwa’s soft voice answers. Damn mages and their poise, San grimaces even though no one can see his face. “I assure you, His Majesty will remain safe. You have my word.” He bows gracefully, his hair still impeccably parted. Little shit probably uses magic to keep it that way.

The “Corvid” is what people call him, Seonghwa. It’s entirely uncreative if anyone were to ask San (which they don’t), considering it only stems from the deep black of his hair, paired with his dark eyes. People call them black too—San is skeptical of that. In order to have truly black eyes, the man would have to have made a bargain with the shadows. No one is foolish enough to do that. He’s thinking of a better name (Shit-For-Brains?) when Seonghwa approaches him.

“What a lovely mask,” he says, smile still evident from the mask that only covers his eyes. Up close San sees why people fawn over him—the tight fitted red suit gives off a tsunami of sex appeal. Typical.

“Lovely suit,” San comments back, voice even. He’s not sure if Seonghwa knows, knows that San is here to kill the crown prince. Bastard prince; good riddance, says most other kingdoms. He wonders if Seonghwa agrees.

He extends a slender hand, nails painted black, towards San. “Care to dance?” He asks, cocking his head.

Not at fucking all, San thinks as he nods fluidly. Dancing with some cryptic court mage is not very high on his list of “wants” right now, especially since he hasn’t seen the prince yet. Probably the reason for the masquerade, he thinks, as Seonghwa leads him to the dance floor.

Dancing, San has learned, is a lot like killing a difficult opponent. The two people must have concrete footing, taut posture. There is an intensity of the gazes shared as one relies on the movement of the other, twirls less menacing when there’s not a knife constantly trying meet your throat. Yet the way Seonghwa looks down at him, as if San isn’t wearing a mask at all, makes him think this is perhaps more menacing than an army of men.

Mages, San has also learned, are lethal. They don’t need a weapon; they personify the looks could kill saying, and do so by just the flick of their wrist; the batting of their eyelashes. San has been contracted to kill them before, and he dreads it. He’s never been able to harness magic himself—always relied on his lithe body and sharp reflexes to save him. So maybe he thinks mages cheat. So maybe if he could, he’d kill Seonghwa. He says “could”, because in all honesty he’s not sure he can manage.

Seonghwa is shrouded in mystery—legends this and curses that. Like some sort of veil covers his aura so that no one can look in. Most of the people he encounters say it adds to his charm, adds to how much they want him. To San, it’s annoying. He hates unknowns. Hates even more when he’s intrigued by them.

And, as much as he is loathe to admit, Seonghwa is intriguing.

“Impeccable form,” Seonghwa says, dipping San. He’s pretty sure this dance is reserved for men and women, judging by the odd glances. San’s traipsed enough lands to not give a shit.

He keeps his voice monotone when he answers, “As is yours.” This close, he can almost see Seonghwa’s eyes. Almost—he still can’t ascertain the colour. Frustrated he even wants to know.

Seonghwa chuckles, and it’s the most intimidating thing he’s done so far. “Are we just going to play idle comments all night?” His eyes narrow as he adds, “I know why you’re here, assassin.”

San’s ankle falters as he twirls. Shit. “Here to stop me, then?” He answers, thankful all Seonghwa has figured out is his profession. Somehow.

He shakes his head, bringing San flush to his chest. There’s hardly a heartbeat, San notices. “Not at all. That pest of a son is nothing but an arrogant fool, bent on embarrassing the monarch he’s fortunate enough to be a part of it.”

“Not a fan, I take it?” San returns a chuckle, noticing the tight grip Seonghwa is keeping him to his chest. Probably not good.

A sinister smile. “I don’t much care for any of these fools. It’s merely a job.”

“How noble,” San chides.

“Speak for yourself,” Seonghwa whispers when he leans into San’s neck. “Killing an unarmed prince? Seems not like your normal shtick.”

San tries to will his heart to calm the fuck down, but it’s hard with Seonghwa’s warmth enveloping him, velvet voice cooing down his neck. “I don’t play fair,” San replies, thankful his voice has yet to crack. His resolve isn’t doing so well, though. He kicks up his shoe, a knife protruding from the sole, and nuzzles it against Seonghwa’s ankle.

Seonghwa hums contently. “Clearly.”

There’s a loud crash, and the music stops. San whips his head away from Seonghwa’s piercing gaze, fixating his own on the chandelier that has crashed just in front of the king. “You’d better go now, the prince should be bedding a whore as we speak,” Seonghwa whispers against San’s shoulder blade.

He turns apprehensively. “Did you—?”

“Cocky assassins aren’t the only ones who don’t play fair,” he smiles.

San doesn’t buy the kindness. He narrows his eyes as he turns away from the commotion, although Seonghwa can’t see them. “Why help?”

Seonghwa answers simply: “Because you intrigue me, assassin.” His expression changes, and San can only really map the even line his mouth makes. “Be warned, though—this contract might not be what you hope it is.”

How ridiculous, San thinks as he scoffs. “I only hope for my blade to greet these people on their way to hell.”

He moves swiftly past Seonghwa, though he still catches his voice when he says, “And what if you end up on the other side as well?”

#ateez #ateez fic #choi san #park seonghwa #sanhwa #sanhwa fic #im too tired to think of more tags #enjoy

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wellthatjusthappend · 5 years

Note

Can we Deadshot appreciating J's ass while Dick loses it? please and thank you!

Nice! I don't remember if Jason and Deadshot have ever worked together (or against each other) in the comics, but I feel like they would get along.

Also, thank you everyone who sent in villain suggestions and prompts!

Dick was getting a little worried that he’d get too used to Jason sleeping by his side.

Not that they’d really done anything but literally sleep next to each other, but it was… nice. Really nice. It made coming back to his apartment feel like an actual home sometimes rather than just another base of operations. Jason wasn’t there at all really during the day- though Dick sometimes woke up to find an extra plate of breakfast sitting around for him after Jay left- and their patrol schedules rarely synched up, but the simple fact of another person’s warmth beside him of Jason made Dick feel calm in ways he’d never expected.

He felt like he had been starving, but hadn’t realized it. His chest felt light and full in ways he couldn’t quite describe.

Dick still didn’t know why Jason had changed his mind and decided to stay with him. He said that he’d sorted out everything about the knife already (though Dick wasn’t sure he’d ever taken the threat seriously in the first place) so it didn’t make much sense. But Dick couldn’t deny that it eased much of the worry that had been building in his chest that Jason was with him and not out there getting seduced by some villain.

For some reason that relaxed feeling made him think that it would be a good idea to invite Jason onto a case he was working on.

There was a new supplier on the streets trying to break out into the market by slipping samples of his new drug into middle and high schoolers backpacks. Mostly he’d been hitting Bludhaven schools thus far- Dick had been a bit overwhelmed by some new gang wars lately so it took a while for him to notice- but apparently the guy was based out of Gotham.

Probably wanted to test the success of his drug before he tried a market where the Bat or the Red Hood might come down on him.

For good reason too, since Jason looked like he was going to murder someone when Dick showed him the case files.

“Keep it non-lethal Hood,” Dick warned as they suited up.

“Bastards like that deserve to burn in hell,” Jason snarled, the sound much more menacing through the voice mod of the helmet.

“I’m serious Hood-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the rules about working with you goldie,” Jason waved him off.

Dick still caught himself double checking that the bullets Jason had loaded were rubber.

It would always be weird working in masks in daylight, but sometimes there was no way around it.

They hid themselves in the shadows of a roof overlooking a school Dick had heard was starting to have more issues with the drug. Jason was tense beside him, and Dick had to remind himself that trying to lay any comforting hand on him right now would probably just end in violence.

They stayed in mostly silence as they waited for their mark to follow his usual routine and come up to the rooftop to set up shop for the burgeoning addicts of the school. Jason was better at long distance than he was, so Dick was hoping they could settle this quickly without terrorizing the school.

“Sniper on the building to left,” Jason suddenly said.

“ What?! ” Dick whipped around just to catch the slightest glint of a scope on a nearby roof.

“Doesn’t look like it’s aiming for us,” Jason commented.

“A sniper aiming anywhere near a school doesn’t sound good,” Dick shook his head, “I’ll go around back and see if I can take them by surprise. You stay here in case our guy comes out.”

He kind of though Jason might protest, but he just grunted his agreement. Dick supposed someone selling to kids would be a higher priority to him, especially since he could probably punish him more if Dick was busy.

Stomping down the bad feeling in his chest, Dick grappled up to a nearby ledge before scaling the building by hand to ensure a silent approach. When he pulled himself up onto the rooftop he saw the tripod and sniper rifle still poised and set up on the other edge of the roof, but no sign of the sniper himself.

Dick ducked just in time to miss a fist to the head.

He dropped automatically and kicked out, just barely missing taking the snipers legs out from under them.

“What the hell, aren’t Bats only supposed to come out at night?” grumbled a familiar voice.

“Deadshot?!” Dick said in surprise.

“Aw hell, what’s Lawton doing here?” grumbled Jason over the comm.

Dick didn’t really like the familiar way Jason said his name, but he had no time to dwell on it with one of the deadliest assassins in the world poised to fight in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” Dick demanded, hands gripping his escrima sticks a little more firmly.

“Same thing as you, I’d imagine,” said Deadshot dryly, “unless there’s more drug selling scumbags hanging around kids that I don’t know about.”

“Lawton,” Jason said having apparently abandoned his post in favor of landing on the roof next to Dick and pulling off his helmet. Dick barely had time to process his alarm when Jason grinned and strode forward to clasp hands with Deadshot with a camaraderie that Dick didn’t like one bit, “good to see you man.”

“Should have known you’d be around, kid,” Deadshot grinned, clapping Jason on the back, “I liked your work on that fucker who was hanging around Madison school a couple months back. Nice and clean.”

Jason preened under the praise, and Dick scowled deeper. Not just because he didn’t know what had happened at Madison school- and he was pretty sure he wouldn’t like it when he found out- but also because Deadshot had not stopped touching Jason for whatever reason.

The fact that Jason didn’t even seem to notice implied that it was probably normal for them.

“You didn’t really answer the question before,” Dick said coming up beside them and barely resisting shoving between them, “What are you doing here?”

Deadshot looked between them, a hint of a smirk gracing his features for a moment.

“Don’t really tolerate bastards that target kids,” he shrugged, “I’ve got a daughter in Gotham, y’know? I do what I can to clean out the trash every now and then.”

“‘Priciate it,” Jason said back honestly, “I’ve missed working with you, man.”

“Right back at you, kid,” Deadshot said, giving Jason’s arm a squeeze, “One of these nights we should hit 10th and make a little noise. My kid has to take that road to the bus stop and the gangs there have been a little too arrogant for my liking.”

“It’s a date,” grinned Jason.

Dick ground his teeth.

“You better not have forgotten our no killing rule, Deadshot,” Dick said with a hard look.

“Ah, are you Bats the ones cramping Hood’s style these days?” Deadshot said lazily.

“They wish,” Jason snorted.

“No killing in Gotham, or it’s back to Blackgate,” Dick warned.

“Right, sure, like that place has ever held me,” Deadshot said dryly, making Jason snort. Dick glared at him.

“I’m serious…” Dick said gripping his escrima sticks a little tighter.

“Don’t worry, Nightwing, I’ve got a kid, remember?” Deadshot placated him, “I’m not going to do anything that is going to get me caught and sent to jail.”

Key word caught , Dick thought.

“Speaking of which, you want to take the shot, Hood?” Deadshot asked, jerking his chin towards the scope.

“Hell yeah,” Jason said, his face lighting up like Christmas had come early. Dick supposed they were nice guns, but Jason could have just as nice ones if he spent more time at the Manor.

Dick noticed Deadshot’s eye flicking down to admire ass and thighs ass he crouched down.

Dick made an angry warning sound, glaring at him. Deadshot just grinned in response.

“God, you’re obvious,” he chuckled quietly so Jason wouldn’t hear.

“Stay away from him,” Dick hissed back.

“Easy, birdy,” Deadshot said giving him a patronizing look, “He’s a bit young for me. Doubt the kid even knows he flirts as much as he does.”

“You’re flirting back,” Dick accused.

“Hardly a crime,” Deadshot said mockingly, “‘sides, I can still admire a nice view when I see one.”

A pointed look at Jason’s thighs again.

“You-” Dick started hotly.

*BANG*

Even silencer muffling things, the sound of the rifle going off was still startling.

“Got ‘em,” Jason said standing with a satisfied look.

“Nice one,” Deadshot said coming to admire the view as well.

“Jesus, Hood, we agreed non-lethal,” Dick cursed as looked as well at the supplier bleeding out on the rooftop.

“Sure, and it won’t be lethal if you get your ass down there and do your job until the pigs show up,” Jason shrugged without a hint of remorse.

Deadshot laughed and Dick cursed both of them again as he launched himself off the rooftop to the next building.

The guy would live, but he’d no doubt be crippled for life. No slipping into schools unnoticed anymore. A nicer fate than what Deadshot would have chosen no doubt, but Dick wasn’t in a charitable mood.

A glance at the rooftop where he’d come from showed that Jason and Deadshot had disappeared together somewhere.

Jason was going to drive him crazy by the end of this.

#story resquests #sequal requests #fic: a certain type #ch. 4 #deadshot #what is that ship name even called?#my writing #Anonymous

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johannstutt413 · 5 years

Text

The next day, Blue showed up at my office at 0545...in time to hear Amiya trying to convince me not to make her my assistant.

“Amiya,” I sighed, running my fingers behind my hood as the door opened, “this is the one time I’m going to say this: I’m making her my assistant for the foreseeable future. If you won’t help with the initiation, I’ll do it myself- good morning, Blue!”

“I’m sorry to give you so much trouble this early,” she blushed, noticing Amiya’s unusually frazzled appearance as well.

The donkey/rabbit (?) leader (??) of Rhodes Island shook her head. “You haven’t caused him any trouble yet, Blue Poison, I just...I have my concerns.”

“And what would those be, again?” I gestured first Blue to come forward, and once she was close enough, I removed my gloves and took her hand in mine. “Skin contact is perfectly fine, her duties for Dr. Kal’tsit can be attended to throughout the day, and she’s certainly more than competent enough to do the work. I mean, hell, we let Kroos do it and that worked out fine, so why not give Blue a chance?”

“...If this is how you feel, Doctor,” Amiya finally relented.

I didn’t release Blue’s hand, which made her blush once the conversation was over and Amiya left the room to sulk. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Step one: establish the new order.” I glanced down at my hand. “Step two...do you mind if, uh, I don’t let go? It’ll be maybe an hour at most.”

“You thought you had to ask?” She wrapped her other hand around my arm and set her head against it.

I blushed beneath several layers of obscuring uniform. “I just wanted to be sure. Alright, let’s get going.”

We walked the base, earning the occasional stare, but it was early enough that most of the other Operators weren’t quite at their full capacity. At one point, Dr. Kal'tsit passed us and asked Blue if she would be available for a toxicology report; she agreed to meet after our first walkthrough, but also handed her that day’s toxin sample, saying this would take precedence over future conflicts. I squeezed her hand a little as she said it, and I almost felt her heart skip a beat.

“And that’s basically it,” I concluded as we returned to my office. “We do that several times throughout the day, handle some paperwork on the back-end for recruitment and whatnot, and at close of day, I’ll lock the office, and we’re done.”

“So we go from walking the base together, to being alone together in your office, and alternate like this the entire day? Are you sure you’ve thought this through, Doctor?”

I shook my head. “Nope, but I figure if I start to bore you, there’s always watching the security cameras.”

“The security cameras?” Blue slipped around my desk to look at my computer screen. “You can see what happens on those?”

“Some nights I go back through and make a blooper reel for myself of the funnier moments. Anyway, do you need to report to Dr. Kal'tsit now?”

She nodded. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes. See you soon.”

My assistant stepping out of the office to attend to something is a regular thing; after all, despite taking the time to walk the floor with me and such, they do have their own jobs to do. For the twenty-five minutes she was gone, though, I noticed that absence more acutely than I think I really had before...I amused myself with security footage while I waited for her to come back.

“I’m back, Doctor,” Blue announced as she opened the door to my office. “Dr. Kal'tsit said she would like to speak with you as soon as possible, so I told her you had a sizable amount of paperwork to get done to prepare for the latest batch of new recruits.”

“New recruits...I appreciate the quick thinking, Blue. And the reminder that the first recruits of the quarter should be coming in; guess my plan for a relaxed first day with you has sort of fallen through.”

She smiled. “That’s okay; I’m fine with anything as long as it’s with you. How can I help?”

I showed her the general process - opening the bags of folders dropped off at my desk at the start of the day, sorting through candidates with potential, sending out invitations to those of interest and agents to those who accept, and either shredding the useless ones or filing those we send after in a cabinet. It can be a bit thankless - whole days of nothing usable - but she took it in stride, asking questions I’d never considered and removing some deficiencies she found in the process on instinct.

“You’re a natural problem solver, Blue,” I told her after noticing the shredder could just as well lead to the incinerator directly considering our location in the base. “Has it always been like this for you?”

“It’s sort of how I understand toxins - everything has weak points, and while when you’re fabricating toxins you want to exploit them, it’s not hard to think instead, ‘How do I make things better?’” She said it with such nonchalance, but the blush on her face let me know she understood the intention.

I glanced at the clock - time for another patrol. “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll head out for another walkthrough. Can you grab the clipboard by the door as we leave?”

“This one?” Blue pulled the inspection checklist off the wall. “Oh, I see. Is it time for dorm inspections already?”

“We don’t really have a schedule for them, so I figured today is as good a day as any.” Plus, it meant getting a chance to show more people at a time how delightful Blue was to be around.

I think she saw the same thing as soon as I said it but decided against saying anything. Like before, Blue took my hand with a smile. “In that case, let’s be on our way.”

“Oh, and when we get back, it should be time for lunch.” I knew the route well enough, so I turned towards her as we walked. “Mess hall’s serving meatloaf and potatoes, if I remember right. What do you like to eat, by the way?”

“Um...bugs, I guess.” She shrunk a little. “I snack on fried crickets while I work, and most of the time the cafeteria has an insectivorous option on the menu. Never liked red meat that much.”

Interesting. “I don’t know if I’ve had cricket before...or any bug, for that matter. If they have something today, I guess I’ll try it- oh, here we go. The inspection begins.”

Inspections, as far as I’m concerned, are less checking to see if the Operators are maintaining some kind of health standard and more about morale; so long as they’re doing well at their work and aren’t fighting, it’s counted as a plus. We started with the production facilities, and from the instant we arrived, I sensed the others confusion. Hadn’t they made it pretty clear to me, after all, what my interactions with Blue Poison were supposed to be? And now I’m holding hands ungloved with her as we walk throughout the facilities for inspection? Most of them must’ve been wondering where they went wrong. To her credit, at least Frostleaf didn’t seem to take issue with our behavior - she slid her headphones off one ear long enough to greet us both before returning to her work.

Most of the others expressed their confusion in their individual ways: some said nothing, maybe shrugged to themselves, before returning to work; some watched us while we passed through, shared glances with each other, or otherwise avoided engaging me while still sharing their lack of understanding with one another; and a few, the blessed few, had the guts to ask why Blue and I were holding hands.

Going through the training area was the most notable; Doberman was the only Operator who noticed us come in, which I think speaks rather highly of her training regimens. She acknowledged me, realized who I was with, and immediately pulled me aside and out of . “Doctor, I need to speak with you.”

“Is it about my prolonged contact with Blue Poison?” I smiled. “Are you worried about something?”

“Has she been with you all day?”

I nodded. “0550, to be precise.”

“And you haven’t noticed any symptoms?” Doberman gave me a once-over. “Anything off whatsoever?”

“My hand feels rather empty right now, but other than that, no.”

She growled at me. “I’m being serious. As our company’s most lethal poisoner, if there’s even the possibility she’s accidentally carried something onto you-”

“Doberman, if she had, I would already have had an antidote administered to me by her. I’m fine.” I shook my head and turned back to my assistant. “Let’s go, Blue - things seem to be going as usual here.”

“She seemed pretty insistent, Doctor,” Blue half-whispered as we walked back towards the HR office, our final destination. “You won’t have any issues with her, will you?”

I shrugged, pulling her a little closer as I set my shoulders back. “If something does come up, I’ll just have my HR complaint on your behalf ready to go.”

“Doctor…”

“I’m serious about that, you know,” I emphasized. “This goes past skepticism straight to discrimination, and I won’t stand for it.”

She gripped my hand tighter. “That route wouldn’t help either of us, Doctor, and you know it.”

“You’re right, you’re right...it’s why I want to try the more gradual way first. Well, that, and I like having you around, talking to you, and everything else, and taking our time with this means more of that, so.” I dragged us down the same tangent as the night before, but when you’re stuck in a rut, it’s not hard to do just that.

“If you were like this with anyone else, you might have a few complaints about you,” Blue smiled to herself, “but one must make up for lost time.”

We finished the inspection and returned to the office...where Kal'tsit was waiting for us. “For someone swamped with documents, you seem to be pretty relaxed about staying in the office.”

“We were doing inspections,” I waved off, my hand slightly tightening around Blue’s. Hers responded in kind.

“It’s hard to believe we used to get along so well,” the other doctor sighed, shaking her head as Blue closed the office door behind us. “Anyway, I admire what you’re attempting with this not-quite covert PR mission, but Blue Poison is invaluable to myself and Rhodes Island as a whole as a toxin and antidote designer and manufacturer. Having her shuffle papers with you and go on walks is, to put it bluntly, a waste of her brilliance.”

I couldn’t disagree there. “For the sake of argument, could she conduct that work in my office?”

“...Blue Poison, does that seem logical to you?” Kal'tsit locked her eyes on Blue, who managed to hold her superior’s gaze.

“Most of work is digital,” she replied calmly, “and for the physical trials, I could conduct them during breaks or while passing through the labs.”

Kal'tsit sighed. “Without a reduction in your productivity?”

“I would argue that having the Doctor to bounce ideas off of would help immensely.”

“My degree isn’t in biology,” I chimed in, “but I do remember biochem rather well.”

The other doctor nodded. “I remember several good discussions on some of my earlier treatment ideas...Alright, Blue Poison, I grant you permission to work out of this office. Keep to our established benchmarks, and we should have no issues maintaining this arrangement. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she sighed in relief, “because I was not about to get into a fight with him about this. I’m keeping you from lunch, so I’ll take my leave.”

I opened the door for her. “You wouldn’t like to join us?”

“...I know a date when I see one, Doctor. I won’t keep you from it.”

“A date?” I shrugged once she’d left. “Well, I guess it has to be now, doesn’t it, Blue?”

My assistant nodded. “Can’t be helped. Heard her loud and clear on that.”

“In that case, where can we get the good bugs?”

“Well...” She thought a moment before continuing. “Penguin Catering delivers.”

I rubbed my hands together. “Excellent. I’ll make the call, you tell me what to order.”

Twenty minutes later, courtesy of Exusiai (“Thanks for the tip, Doc!”), we had two people’s worth of edible-looking food. I started to wonder if Blue had been messing with me about the bugs, but then I saw a stray piece of chitin in my burger, and I knew she hadn’t been.

“Insect protein burger with fried beetles for you,” she explained, “and a variety platter for me.”

“Is that earthworm lo mein? Wow, they don’t joke about serving everyone, do they? Is there um...anything special I need to do to eat the beetles?”

Blue smiled. “Just bite down - the chefs should have taken care of everything else.”

“Alright...Huh.” Beyond the especially satisfying crunch, I didn’t feel anything particularly ‘buggy’ about it. “So you eat like this whenever you can?”

“It speaks to something primal in me.” It was then I noticed that she alternated between using her fork and, when a beetle woke from its half-death to mount its escape, her tongue to-

Wait, how long was that tongue again? “Uh, Blue?”

“Yes?” She gasped. “I flicked that one with my-”

“Uh huh.” I still don’t know if I felt more confused, disturbed, or turned on when that happened.

She blushed. “Sorry. I forget most non-Anura don’t use their tongues as a utensil…”

“I mean, I don’t mind,” I clarified, “I just didn’t know. Actually- no, nevermind.”

“Doctor? What were you going to say?” Her tongue flicked again, this time just lightly into the air as if to remind me of its presence.

I coughed out, “It’s kind of hot.”

Dead silence for a few moments. Then, “You think so?”

“I mean, yeah?” Boy, I made things awkward. “Like, it seems pretty prehensile, so...I dunno. Sounds like a fun time.”

“...After I make you that cake, will you do me a favor, Doctor?”

After all the little comments I’ve made, I owe her as much. “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

“I want that kiss we talked about last night.” Blue’s tongue snagged a beetle from my plate with pinpoint precision. “Is that fair?”

“...Will there be tongue? Ah, who am I kidding, I’d like that.”

She sighed. “You’re not going to stop thinking about the tongue, now, are you?”

“I just forgot what Anura means,” I admitted. “I promise to work it out of my system by tonight.”

“I’ll keep you to that, then.”

We kept talking for the next hour or so, and I learned a few more things - she likes that I call her Blue and isn’t too keen on sharing her name for now; the frog-eyes on her hood are speakers that wirelessly connect and play into her ears, and in fights, she likes turning on classical music to keep her focused; her own favorite dessert involves the smallest dose of a light neuroinhibitor, which she promised not to use in the cake she was making for me later.

Oh yeah, the cake...that was a fun time.

#arknights #blue poison #story #i told you there'd be more #and there will be MORE #blue poison (arknights)#arknights fic

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zer0pm · 5 years

Text

Imagine Dante flirting with you and V gets jealous

Based on this ask by @krazy06:

I chose Dante ‘cause 👀👌 I’m thinking of creating this piece into a sort of Diverging Point mini works. Those who have played the game will know what I mean. Leave a comment/ask on what you think ;3 Enjoy!~

Dante: “So, when are you gonna admit that you’re falling for me?”

You: “Maybe when you actually lend a hand.”

The ring of your blade hits the air as you fell the last of the demonic wave that was in your path. Your partner in the business who is also your boss, the Legendary Devil Hunter Dante, was lying atop the hood of one of the wrecked cars lying around the city watching you do your work with amused interest. The man always tends to run his mouth even when the situation doesn’t call for it, but you suppose that’s what made the job so fun. Finding the bright side in an otherwise hellish scenario. Literally. He scoffs, a playful smirk on his roguish face.

Dante: “Saving my energy for the big target, you know how it goes. Besides, you had it handled here.”

You: “Uh huh. I’ll remember that when we reach the big douche in his treehouse. Whoops, was that my bullet in his skull?”

Dante: “You wouldn’t.”

You: “Try me.”

The man wears an expression of faux terror and you laugh in turn. You turn your back towards him to scavenge through the kills, hopeful to find something useful for Nero’s friend Nico who served as the devil hunters’ lethal artisan, as she liked to put it. When you weren’t looking, Dante took a moment to appreciate the view himself. The man prided in not letting distractions get in the way of his work, to remain strictly professional despite how he carries himself, but you proved yourself to be an exception for as long as you two have worked together and he relished in the thought and challenge. Between you two, it was playful banter although Dante entertained the idea of taking the flirting a little further.

He got up from where he sat to have another go at you when something fast goes flying straight towards his head. His devil instincts kicking in, the man dodges with ease and pulls out his pistols cocking them with a click. You too went on the alert and point your blade towards the intruder only for you to loosen your guard at the familiar squawking voice.

You: “Griffon?”

Griffon: “The one and only!”

Dante: “Whoa! Almost took my head off there, little birdy.”

Griffon: “My bad, my bad. We thought you were a demon, Dante. Didn’t want our mutual friend here to be hell chow, ya know.”

We? You turn your head to see another familiar face, the mysterious client of Dante’s who you’ve found yourself growing curious about more and more with each passing day. V, a self-proclaimed devil hunter, who also happens to command demons with a snap of his fingers. As he got closer, you found that the man had his nose glued to his characteristic book. Dante furrows his brows in mild annoyance and regarded the him.

Dante: “Mistook this handsome face for one of those ugly things? Maybe you strained your eyes too much from reading, Mr. Poetry.”

V: “Pardon us for the misunderstanding. I reached one of my favorite parts and did not think to validate my flying companion’s claim. You may punish him as you see fit for recompense.”

Griffon: “Wait...you’re blaming me for this, V?”

Dante: “Sounds like it. Now, dance!”

Suddenly you hear gunshots firing and laughter filling the air with the sight of Griffon flying around for his feathery life. You almost had to facepalm at the scene but then you glance over at V, who has not once looked up from his book. The dark-haired gentleman was smirking. It added to his refined, enigmatic aura in a rather mischievous way.

You: “That was all your idea, wasn’t it?”

The tattooed man finally glances up to look at you.

V: “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

His playful drawl suggests that he has no intent on admitting to anything and you shake your head, smiling at the strange company you keep.

You took a moment to take in V’s appearance, sizing him up and remembering how you met him. Not too long after Dante took on the job, he personally added you to the roster and V himself became interested in you as you were not mentioned by Morrison when the two met. He verbally expressed his desire to observe your skills, curious to what made you different from Dante’s other partners like Trish and Lady. You returned to the agency at Dante’s call and was introduced to V. And by introduced, V sicced a black panther onto you.

Quick on your toes, you subdued the shadowy familiar with blade and guns in hand. It was tough as you were careful not to wreck the already-trashed building but at some point it seemed V was satisfied with how you held yourself against him and offered his hand along with his name. Since then, you found yourself constantly thinking about this mysterious figure. Who he is, his motives, his connection to the current big bad demon and the tree that erected itself in the middle of Red Grave City. It probably didn’t help that you found him extremely attractive as well, but you chose not to divulge that aloud. “You two had a business relationship afterall” is what you told yourself. A month passes by and you spent a lot of personal time with the mysterious V, convincing your nagging thoughts that it was integral to the job.

You: “So, which of Blake’s works are you indulging in this time?”

Yeah, that is totally relevant to the job.

V lifts his head entirely, genuine surprise and, if you see not mistaken, respect alights his usually stoic demeanor.

V: “You are familiar with William Blake?”

You: “Literature was my favorite course. Poetry, my weakness.”

Your ears hear a slight chuckle from his throat that made you feel a little giddy inside, taking it as a sign to press forward. You move to stand right next to him, glancing at the pages he left open.

You: “Auguries of Innocence.”

V: “Impressive. The fact that you recognize the verses with a single glance shows how well-read you are.”

You laugh, flattered by his compliment.

You: “I really just remember these lines.”

Your fingers brush against the words on the page, you were so engrossed in the poem that you missed that small grin that snuck its way onto V’s face, missed how his eyes roamed over your visage with what can only be defined as admiration.

V: “That happens to be where I left off.”

With piqued interest, your eyes snap up to meet his and the words fell from your lips long before you can bit your tongue at the request.

You: “Read it to me?”

It was such an odd thing to say, but traveling the ruins of the city alongside V developed within you an appreciation for the man’s voice and articulation. His voice sounded like silk, and each word from his mouth was like honey. How could you deny the chance to hear him recite the works of a master author?

V himself was taken aback, turning his head to look into your eyes, seeking for any hint that you were merely being jocular and not serious at all. You were not joking and were completely serious. At this, he composed himself quickly, hiding the growing warmth that was beginning to swell within his heart under the guise of him clearing his throat.

He shifts around you slightly so that he held his open book in front of you while also placing himself behind you. A single step back and your back would touch his chest. Your bodies were so close to one another and there was a gradual fluttering in the pit of your stomach that you could not shake off and with each passing second, you found no reason to complain about it and instead welcomed it.

From the corner of your eye, you see V lean over your shoulder until his head dipped to your level. Your ears pick up the soft sound of him taking a breath-

Specks of black suddenly fly across the air, moving past you like a gust of wind and hitting V straight on. The color merged within his skin, darkening the faded tattoos to its full, lustrous color. Griffon came back, which meant one thing. Instinctively, you look up and spotted Dante walking over, his sword in hand and rested upon his shoulder. A pleased, smug grin creeps its way on his face and you knew that meant trouble - or rather “fun”, as he affectionately calls it.

Dante: “Brace yourselves, friends. Here they come.”

Sure enough, you see the all-too-familiar hell gates open from thin air, all around you three, and from them, masses of empusa demons come crawling forth in throes. The numbers that were approaching were staggering. They must have been drawn to Dante’s rambuctious roughplay with V’s familiar and you shot him an annoyed glare. The white-haired man meets your eyes and shrug, deflecting your aggravation with a wink which only frustrated you even further and tightened the grip on your blade.

Dante: “Don’t fall behind, partner. I’m not gonna slow down. Even for you.”

You scoff, swinging your sword in your hand and step into your stance.

You: “That’s my line, old man.”

Dante: “Ha! I’ll show you old.”

You roll your eyes and return your attention back to V. He already moved away from you and you felt yourself grimace at the apparent distance between you two. His book stowed away and his signature cane in his hand at the ready. He wore a serious expression again and if you didn’t know any better, he seemed rather...disappointed? His eyes meet yours, sensing your staring, and you offered him a small smile.

You: “Looks like the reading will have to wait.”

His green eyes glisten subtly, apparently pleased at the suggestion that you wished for his company. The apparent irritation on his face ebbing away slightly to make way for an upturn quirk of his plump lips.

V: “The most sublime act is to set another before you.”

You did not miss the way his eyes were pinned to you as he said this and it sent a pleasantly shivering sensation throughout your body.

V: “Let us be done with this swiftly.”

You nod in agreement and went into position. You, V, and Dante were back-to-back-to-back, ready to take on the ravenous horde.

You: “Watch my back, gentlemen.”

Dante: “Don’t mind if I do-”

V: “Without question-”

If only you would have seen the challenging glares Dante and V had for each other, but no. You were too busy running your sword through your demon prey. Too busy to realize that the entire time you fought, the two devil hunters were side-stepping and tripping each other to get physically closer to you while also slaying through the horde.

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