#sorry i am full waxing poetic with this one but gotta talk some about the Guys or i'll go insane. sorry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barafishu · 4 years

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Glorified Jail: Part 1

Here it is, I finally posted something! I’ve had this in my drafts for so long that it feels good to finally put it out there for someone to read. Now, this is going to have parts to it (which I’m still polishing). But I’d like to thank everyone for being so kind and patient with me. So, without further ado, here you go! Enjoy!

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Male Reader x Deer Minotaur (Nyx)

I was walking to my job, it just being another of work for me. I walked up some old, metal stairs to where all the workers go. When I walked in, I saw the costume designer with pins in his mouth. "Early as always, Jiàn," He spoke through clenched teeth. "Of course, gotta set an example for the other performers," I replied. "That's my boy!" I turned to see my boss, Catherine Valdez. "It's almost time for everybody else to start showing up, so go get ready." She said as she lovingly patted my shoulder. I hummed and left to go ready in the makeup room. I made a beeline for the clothesline and pulled out my outfit. I grinned in excitement as I began to strip.

After I was "suited" up, the next thing to do was apply makeup. I hardly need any because I have a wonderful complexion, but I do put on some concealer for some blemishes, do my brows, eyes, and put lip gloss on. When I'm ready to go on, Catherine came in to see if I was ready. I turned around to look at her. "You look sexy, as usual," She said and I smiled softly. "Thanks." I stood up and walked to stand in front of her. "Let's get going, hot stuff." She teased and I chuckled as I followed her out into the den. The place was bathed in red, as usual. Patrons were seated in their seats, drinking to their heart's content. Alistair's voice huskily spoke throughout the room through a speaker.

"Hey everyone, and welcome to Red Horizons! Don't forget, tonight is guys night, so drinks for the men are all half price. And now, our next dancer is ready to come out for you! Someone better call a priest, cause it's gettin' sinful in here with this demon, Incubus!" I heard cheers and whistles from the crowd. "It's showtime Jiàn, give 'em a good show," Catherine said as she gave me a wink before she walked away. A promiscuous smile graced my features as I stepped out from behind the curtain and approached the pole in the middle of the room. The crowd erupted with cheers and whistles when I grabbed the pole, swinging myself skillfully around on it.

I moved with grace on the stage, gripping the pole as I spun myself around it. After a few minutes, I started unbuttoning my billowy, white shirt with my back to the pole. I slipped my shirt off as I moved down the pole to my knees before jumped back up and using my shirt now to swing around on the pole before tossing it aside. More whistling erupted from the crowd, and a handful of bills landed on the stage. I continued to tease the crowd, making sure to really show off my figure. "Let's hear it for Incubus! He'll be back later tonight to put on another show for you guys, so stick around! For now, sit back, grab a cool drink and relax. We'll have another show for you guys starting in just a bit!"

With another spin on the pole, I crouched down to father the bills on the stage. With my back to everyone. Several hands reached out to cop a feel of my butt, and when I wagged it around, those same hands slipped more bills under my strap. After collecting all my money, I disappeared into the back to put it away and touch up my makeup and to drink some water. It's my break now, but I wanted to check in with Louis at the bar. The rest of the night was filled with taking drink orders, dancing, and doing a couple of private shows. Soon it was 1am, ending my shift. After a long night of work, I was excited to be going home.

I changed into my day clothes and closed my locker, not forgetting to put on my combination lock. I got outside into the back alley that leads to the employee parking lot. I sigh, staring up at the sky and seeing that the moon is full. "Hello, excuse me?" A rumbling voice shakes me from my poetic thoughts. I jump, staring straight ahead at a broad figure. I reach into my pocket for my keys, which are adorned with pepper spray and a little keychain that looks like a cat, but can be used for stabbing. "Sorry. I, uh-" he holds his hand up defensively. His eyes looked almost empty, as if only filled with regret. His face is contorted into some form of distress, lips quivering as his eyes dart to and fro.

He puts a hand over each of his pockets, face still looking in fear, until his right hands falls over his breast pocket. He breathes a sigh of relief and looks at me. He starts talking, but not in a language I understand. But eventually he finds a thread I can follow. "I was a fool. I had settled down and yet I squandered my one chance at a proper life. Felt the road would always take me in." My brows knitted together, still being suspicious of this man. He took a hesitant breath as he released his clenched fist. "I ended up throwing away the one place I could call a home. It's been rotting for who knows how long and now I'm old. Always wondered if someone would ever take over and treat it right. Now, you do remind me of myself, but I wasn't a good man. Hopefully you don't have the mean streak I had."

He waits for me to confirm or deny if my character matched his own when he was my age. "Well... I'm far from perfect, but I do try my best," I reply casually. "Is that so? I suppose that's as good as it gets. At least nowadays you can try." He stops suddenly but continues nonetheless. "Back in my day my father treated me like dirt and no one batted an eye. I saw that happen a lot, too — I wasn't the only one. It made beasts out of my siblings and I, having a father like that. But don't you think i"m blaming him. You can only point the finger at your dad for so long, eh? At least eventually I found a way to make a living." The man rambles in the same language from before.

I've realized that it's Italian and perhaps I couldn't recognize it in the beginning was because of his drunken state slaughtered it. Sometimes he'll stop and stare at me, as if expecting a response. A nod or a grunt is enough to get him going again. His voice becomes graver and deeper as the night goes on. It is soothing, in a way, even if at times he'll again allude to having a rough, sorrowful past. Eventually, he stops and his gaze seems to shine with lucidity once more. "I must say I am terribly sorry. I'm afraid I never asked for your name." I immediately tell him that it's Jiàn. I don't mind telling him my actual name, since he's so out of it right now. "I'm glad I got to see you again, Jiàn."

I try to recall if I've met him before, but nothing comes up. Maybe his thoughts are too muddled perhaps due to alcohol that he thinks we've met before. The man's eyes become glazed again and his hand starts shaking. "You seem like an open minded man. Things have changed so much. I think it's the technology, spirits, and the arcane don't mix well with it. Or maybe... it's something in the eyes. The unknown is not as frightful either, so much mystery has been lost. and so the bridge with the fantastical broke down." The old man freezes for a moment, then looks back to me. "Oh, I was rambling again, was I? I'm sorry." I shake my head, offering a kind smile.

"Don't worry about it, that's interesting to hear... The world is a more mysterious place than we like to think. Perhaps fantastical things aren't as common, but they manage to slip by the cracks every once in a while. Or perhaps the supernatural is still out there, speaking in whispers instead of speaking plainly," I share my perspective. "Whispers... You are quite a sensitive young man. There's humility in sensing how much there is out there, yet to be learned. Perhaps... Yes, you seem to have turned out nicely. Special. Hum... perhaps you can do it. Here, I'd like you to have this. I'm sure you'll take better care of it than I did." The man takes an old piece of paper form his breast pocket and extends it to me.

"The deed for the place I told you about. The one I squandered. I'm old, tired. I would like you specifically to have it. I don't quite feel like I have any more time to waste." I stare at the folded piece of paper and he waits a moment before continuing. "Just take it. It's yours. A grandiose place, a palace. Time's taken a toll, but you will love it. Just, please, take care of it, be good. Give him a purpose." I raise an eyebrow at him. Did this old man try to give me a palace just like that? Now who would do that? His wandering gaze betrays his drunken state. At times he seems outright confused, as if he didn't know how he got here in the first place.

I can't take it. It wouldn't be right to take advantage of someone like him. And that's assuming that piece of paper is a deed. It might just be a used napkin with a nice seal. The old man's gaze wanders around. With his hand still extended he squints his eyes at me, then looks down to the paper. He struggles to put his thoughts together... but for a brief moment his expression grows firm and lucid. "You must think I'm crazy. But please understand, this is my last chance to do it right. Just... take the deed." I give in to the old man's pleas. I'm just accepting a piece of paper, after all. It's probably nothing, and if it indeed is something important I can try returning it.

The old piece of parchment looks unimaginably ancient — older than you, that's for sure. But the wax on it seems reasonably new, perhaps even fresh. I break open the seal and examine the paper's contents. It's gibberish, written in an alphabet I've ever seen before. Well, it would seem like this was all for nothing. I stick the paper in my jacket pocket. The corners of his mouth wrinkle, and he shakes ever so slightly. But his joy is short-lived. His gaze wanders once again. When his focus returns to you be furrows his brow, taking in each of my features one at a time. The man mumbles something to himself, takes a sip of his coffee, and smiles. "You are a very kind young man, Jiàn."

He does remember your name, at least. "I'm so sorry... I ran away and after a while, I never looked back at what I ran from. Please, forgive me..." I part my lips in confusion. "What do I have to forgive you for? Who are you?" I see the man hesitate and break into a nervous sweat. He then suddenly stops and seems to once again lose all sense. I say my farewell to the old man and thank him for the wonderful company. He subtly bows to me. "No, Jiàn. It is I who ought to be grateful. It was a pleasure meeting you." I leave him and start taking drink orders. The rest of the evening, all I could think about was that weird interaction I had with that old man. "Why talk to me like that? We're strangers... Ugh, I'm too tired for this."

I now sat in my apartment on my bed. I check the deed again. I couldn't read it at first — maybe I was too tired. But now the once-gibberish characters make some sense to my brain. It's like reading a language that had branched off from my native tongue a few centuries prior. It is just alien enough to be unrecognizable at first. However, when I squint hard enough I find that the characters remind me of my alphabet. And then the words' meaning pops up in my mind. It's unsettling, in a way. It feels as if my brain is shifting from inside out the more I look into it. But try as I might, it's hard to even acknowledge this discomfort — it melts away at the blink of an eye.

Maybe the old man really had give me something of value after all, not a worthless scrap of paper. I sigh as I settle in my bed, having already stripped myself of my day clothes. It was around noon and while most people would be working or doing another number of things, all I was going to do was sleep. I release a relaxed sigh, happy to just be home and especially, in a bed. However, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned and was going from one side of my bed to the other. I huffed as I flopped onto my back and stared at my ceiling. In the corner of my eye, I could see the deed. I felt as if the old parchment was making fun of me.

I muttered a string of curse words as I sat up and harshly grabbed the paper. I narrowed my eyes at it. But as I continued to stare intensely at it, I realized that the words were starting to make sense. It hurt my eyes and I could feel a headache coming on, but I persevered. But I felt as if the paper was sucking in and now I didn't even have the choice to look away. It felt like my surroundings were starting to shift and warp, but I couldn't look to be sure. Suddenly, and to my amazement, the old writing began to glow, illuminating my face. "What the..." I breathed as I ultimately became lost in the scribbles. The last thing that I remember was that I felt extremely dizzy and sleepy... then darkness.

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When I wake up, I slowly realize that I'm not being greeted by my bedroom ceiling. Instead, I only see the large leaves of tropical trees. I abruptly sit up and vigorously look around. I'm in a pocket of trees, I think. "What... What the hell is happening?" I breathe as I begin to panic. I stagger as I get up on my feet and continue to look around. It's then that I spot a giant structure to my right and I realize that it's a palace. Breathing hard I look to the infinite horizon behind me. I look back to the palace as I think about all those details. Something catches my eye, however; a porch overlooking the valley beneath the palace. The valley stretches to the cloudless horizon, framed to the right and left by more cliffs.

Looking down to the bottom I can just make out the outline of a flourishing riverbed stretching out. I notice there's a cave opening in the cliff wall, right below the palace. Its exit lined with statues, the details of which I can't make out at this distance. My thoughts are halted as a more pressing matter sneaks up on me: the heat. Regardless of the weirdness around me, there's no escaping the sweltering sun. I walk to the entrance. The doors are unlocked. It's hard to tell for how long this place has been abandoned. The building itself surely is old, the exterior is severely decayed. It wouldn't be surprising if the interior is teeming with wild animals, rotten walls, and fallen pieces of ceiling.

But instead it's just... dusty. Humid and stagnant too — the walls are water damaged and there's a lot of mold. However it's not as bad as one would think. I call out in the hopes someone, anyone, might be there. Maybe some squatters? But just like outside, there's no signs of human life at all in the palace. Up ahead is a tall spiral staircase going both up and down. No matter how many twists and turns I took, the hallway never wrapped back into itself. Backtracking all the way back to the parlor was the only option. The spiral staircase seemed much more inviting than wandering the seemingly endless hallways. The marble handrails were lined with burnt-out lamps.

It was impossible to see much in the darkness down below. The second floor was mostly bedrooms. But here, the outer hallways were lined with sprawling windows showing a courtyard behind the palace, close to the cliff's edge. I took the hallway leading further towards the palace's back, and a single turn to the right brought me to a vast room. Right beside its entrance was a bar and to the left was a medium sized table and two couches. Further left there was a tall window of stained glass, like the ones in a cathedral. And through a glass door beside this window was a garden. Behind the counter, the bottles of fine spirits are still half-filled. They glimmer in exquisite browns, reds, and blues.

I close my eyes, and imagine how this place was decades ago. The whistling wind shifts. It turns into the hum of human life, footsteps and breathing. Chairs being dragged, cutlery and plates clinking. Laughter, whispers, people talking to each other from one side of the room to the other. People dressed so nicely. A barman in front of me, serving the finest drinks I can imagine. He knows my name and how I like it. And eagerly listening to all my rants and complaints. I open my eyes. I'm back in the abandoned palace, majestic and destroyed. One can understand why the old man wished to pass it on to someone who would care for it. It's then that I remember the deed.

I pat all over my body until I feel something in my jacket's breast pocket. I tap my the pocket once more, making sure the crumpled parchment is still there. Even the yellowed, stained paper exudes warmth now. I stand up and walk out. As I do so, I notice a large purple stain on the floor behind the counter, and the glass shards of what used to be a wine bottle. I proceed further into the palace. There's a lot to see still. All the way down the hallway a set of sliding glass doors beckon me. But from afar the difference is clear. The wallpaper is ripped, and one of the doors is cracked. I step on something hard. A revolver bullet. I push the door to the side and am greeted by an even more chaotic sight. It's the palace's lounge.

The tables was overturned, and all the chairs and plates lay broken on the floor. There's a darkened stain in the middle of the room which trails into the kitchen. It leads me past the pantry and to the massive iron door of a cold room, which is locked from the outside and boarded up. All around the kitchen things are strewn about. There's even a pan on the stove with what must be fossilized food, and the sink is filled with dirty dishes. On a nearby counter is a revolver covered in thick dust, and I think back to the bullet in the hallway and the stain on the restaurant floor. The old man wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't a good person. I breathe in, preparing myself for a terrible sight.

The rusted door fights against my will, but stands no chance. Darkness pours out. The stench strikes first. It's the stagnant smell of blood and rot. It clings to my nose and mouth like a bitter oil. Before my eyes can adjust to the darkness a second wave of stench hits. It's like a farm, too — the scent of dusty fury, maybe even hay, but cooped up in a hot, humid room for decades. And, last but not least, stale shit and piss. This place has it all, the stench of a thousand different deaths. The light pouring into the cold room shines on the floor in front of the doorway. Empty cans of soup and glasses of jam are strewn about over the trail of old blood. Whoever was locked in here didn't die quickly.

The cold room extends into absolute darkness, a hallway in and of itself. I proceed, scraping my shoes on the floor so I don't trip over the refuse. The entire floor is covered with discarded glasses and cans. Whatever scraps were left in them has long rotted, dried and crumbled into dust. Both my footsteps and breathing echo. The overbearing humidity drapes across my back, and my breathing becomes agitated. The stench is stronger. My sight finally adapts to the dark. At what must be the cold room's far wall, I notice something. Whatever is it, it's slouched on the floor, motionless. As if it died where it stood after who knows how long locked here. My eyesight is used to the dark now.

The distant pillar of light bleeding from the doorway is enough to avoid tripping on the discarded glass. I crouch in front of the thing. It seems to have the head of a deer, but it's been mixed with other animals that I can quite place. It's covered in fur, aside from the patches of sickly, exposed skin. Instead of paws or hooves, it has taloned toes, along with a sickle claw. Half of its skull is exposed. The bone still has a smattering of blood dust near the remaining flesh. Its left eye socket is empty and I can't help but involuntarily gulp. And while it seems to have long hair that's in a lazy braid, it can't hide how deathly thin this stag was. It died from starvation, not from whatever destroyed its face.

That's enough. I stand up and turn back to leave. As I do so, my rustling clothes and echoing footsteps break the curtain of silence. That's when I heart it. Breathing as faint as a moth's wings flapping. I look back to the corpse. I realize that it's looking at me. Its chest expands and contracts. I take a step forward and it follows my movements. I stand my ground. The thing's eye remain locked on me, squinting slightly when a string of fresh air blows into the cold room. The exit is just five seconds away if I turn back and sprint. If push comes to shove, the gun is still outside. The thing remains on the floor, barely moving. The blinking of its eye is drawn-out and deliberate.

Its head droops down, as if it can barely hold itself awake. Its lips, or whatever remains of them, part. Its breathing becomes easier to hear. "I beg your forgiveness. I'm in such a sorry state." What an understatement. "What are you?" I ask as I continue to study the peculiar creature. I quickly realize that he's completely naked, not that that bothers me at all. "I am the Palace's Keeper and Prisoner of its walls." His voice is raspy, nearly a string of grunts booming through the room in contrast with his disheveled body. "And you're the Master now, which makes me your servant, bound to your will. I cannot disobey your orders." The thing cradles his head between his arms, his voice comes out muffled.

"If you wish to know what thing am I, I am a hybrid monster. About my sorry state, the previous Master did this to me. As your servant, I shall answer the Master's questions." He remains with his face hidden for awhile longer, he does look up, he stares at the exit and not at me. He squints his eye and raises a deathly thin forearm over it. He scuttles an inch to the side, so my shadow covers him. "You are a prisoner, but you are also the Palace's Keeper?" His eye narrows and ear droops. "Yes. I was sentenced by the High Council to spend eternity here. I am an abomination and failed the one task that was given to me. The High Council made this land to house me in my damnation."

I take a step forward, intrigued by this creature. "The Master is meant to be my torturer, and to the end is given control over the land. But there was a past Master, and with at his will I became the Keeper." He closes his eye for a moment, lost in a daydream. "Why were you locked here?" I ask before I looked around the disgusting room once more. What could possess somebody to lock someone up in here? "That is what the last Master saw fit. He shot me then commanded that I stay here, in this room. But as you can see, I am undying. It only hurt, I cannot be killed. He locked the door as well, but his command was enough. I cannot disobey, as I had no way out. I am a prisoner, after all."

I shifted on my feet, feeling sorry for the broken creature in front of me. "Why did the previous Master do this to you?" The stag recoils, shrinking further into a fetal position. "Being a monster is reason enough for damnation, Master. He chose to return the Prison to its original purpose, I presume." His bony jaw opens and closes, chewing on nothing. "It hardly matters, regardless. I cannot die." His open wounds stand out as he speaks. "How can I help with your injuries?" He exhales sharply at my words. His face sinks again between his legs. "Master need not worry about me. I cannot die, and it stopped hurting a long time ago. A skull feels no pain." I pull the Palace's deed from my breast pocket.

"So it's this that makes me the new Master?" I ask as I hold up the parchment. "Correct. The ownership of Havena was transferred to you. I always know who the current Master is and his name." I've asked all my questions but another comes to mind now. "What's your name?" He hesitates before answering. His burning eye shifts ever so slightly. "The Master holds the right to pick my name. But if it is your wish to know, the one I was given at birth is Nyx." For a split second his remaining eye reflects a strand of light from outside. He realizes then how tired, thirsty, and hungry he is. But it doesn't matter. After all, he cannot die. As a servant his duty takes precedence.

The stag readjusts to a kneeling position. The cracking of his kneecaps bounces off the cold room's walls. He bows his head to me. "The bond between jailer and prisoner is born from the deed, while that between Master and Servant is willfully chosen. Will Master hear my oath of servitude?" I raise an eyebrow at the skeletal stag's gesture. I cannot muster a response. In my silence, the stag glances up to me. He starts shaking, barely able to hold his hands together. His lips tremble in anticipation. "Master, this land was designed to torture me." The stag's voice cracks. For the first time I notice a tail thrashing behind him.

"The oath of servitude is what keeps it at bay. Please, Master, allow me to recite it and take me into your service." I can only nod in response. With my authorization he is able to proceed, after a minute to bring himself together again. "Prisoner Nyx pledges loyalty and servitude to the Prison's Master. The Prisoner is made Keeper of the Palace above the valley, and is bequeathed the power to realize the Master's will. The Master in turn binds Havena, forbidding it's malicious entities from leaving said valley. The realm was engineered to torture the Prisoner, and indeed its mission shall be accomplished. The Prisoner will carry the burden of servitude, but shall not suffer Havena's wrath within the Palace's territory. The Prisoner, shielded by his Master's will, is made safe as long as his duty is fulfilled."

Nyx dares not look up to me. Once he finishes his oath, his silence is broken only by the drops of sweat dripping from his trembling face. "This is a lot to take in, if I'm being honest. And this oath you were talking about, what does it mean?" I ask as I take in all of his injuries, counting them one by one. "It's what protects me, my lord. There are creatures in the valley, they cannot harm me inside the Palace as long as I am under the Master's service. The previous oath remained for as long as the Palace remained without a Master. With your arrival I am made vulnerable again." He pauses, his breathing becoming even more shaky. "Please, allow me into your service..." I bite my lips slightly, feeling a weight settle on me.

"Very well. Assuming you are speaking the truth... yes, I accept you as my servant." My words bounce off the walls and slither their way out of the cold room. The light dripping from the door behind me falters. My shadow, draped over the deer minotaur, flickers and shifts slightly. The world itself shudders under my words and responds by shifting into a new shape around me. Nyx still looks down, his frame now slouched further forwards and no longer shaking. "My gratefulness knows no bounds. I shall not disappoint. I may be in a sorry state now, but I'll be quick to recuperate. If Master so allows, I will take my leave. I need only take a trip to the infirmary to patch myself up."

He raises his head ever so slightly, glancing at the doorway. "...I am still unable to leave the room, until you command me otherwise." Undying as he may be, the stag's body is atrophied. He won't go far on his own. I kneel down to his level. Despite the darkness, I can make out his scapulae and sagging skin. "Can you walk on your own?" Nyx averts his eye by looking down to his legs. "Master ought not worry about me. I can make it to the infirmary on my own. I've been through worse." He won't look up to me. There's just a hint of pride in his voice. "Very well. You have my permission to leave the room." Without uttering a word the stag bows to me, then puts his hands on the ground to try and rise up.

He struggles, first in snapping his knees from this new position and then in finding his balance. He succeeds after holding on to one of the shelves. One step at a time he ambles towards the door, taking breaks to rest against a wall and adjust his eyesight to the light. It takes a long time, but he leaves the cold room and makes his way to the infirmary. I follow him closely, making sure he doesn't trip and get hurt. His back is covered in bed sores. Against all odds, Nyx can indeed make it on his own. The infirmary has layers upon layers of dust and rust. Squinting his eye, Nyx walks up to the drawers. He examines each on, silent, until one of them reveals shards of green glass and a purple, dried out stain.

The stag slouches forward and sighs. He scrapes a finger on the drawer, trying to gather some of the purple dust, but it's no use. He continues looking around and I do the same. All I find are dusty bandages, long rotted medications. I put it back when I notice Nyx's intense gaze on me. "What are we looking for exactly?" He takes a hesitant breath before cautiously answering my question. "The only thing that can heal me is... the Master's blood." My posture straightened at this and I repeated his words. The stag nods meekly, "The Master's blood heals me." This is a turn of events, which is a complete understatement if you ask me. "Uh, how much blood do you need?"

I'm certainly not out here giving out a whole blood donations worth of blood. "The severity of my wounds determines the amount needed. I estimate that it'd only take.... about a tablespoon. But it is your decision of how much to give me." I can't help but sigh in relief, saying that that's something I can sacrifice. "Past masters chose to make a small cut along the fleshy part of your thumb." I nod and look around for something sharp, preferably a clean scalpel. I soon found one and made sure it was clean before positioning it against the soft flesh at the base of my thumb. I suck in a deep breath and release it simultaneously when I cut. In the corner of my eye, I see Nyx flinch.

A red line that's about a centimeter long begins to show. "Is that alright?" I ask as I look up at Nyx. "Yes... that's perfect." He looks longingly at my hand, as if he's been waiting for this this whole time. I hold out my hand to him and he licks his dry lips but I can still tell he doesn't trust me. He nears towards my hand similar to a wild animal. I wait patiently and soon, I feel him begin to lick up my blood. He breathes in deeply through his nose before he begins to hungrily suck on my hand. He grabs my hand and pulls it towards him, seemingly impatient at the pace he has been going. It's only been a few minutes, but I can already notice some of his wounds healing. The stag notices me watching.

He pulls back and his lips, or what remains of them, curl into a proud half-smile. "Yes. I can heal quite quickly, provided I have master's blood for it." With one hand, Nyx squeezes out more blood onto his fingers and reaches a hand to his back. His fingers seem to barely graze one of the bed sores. "Let me help you with that. You can't see it." He droops his ear in defeat, knowing full well I'm right. However, he turns his back to me with a speed betraying his eagerness. His tail flicks to and fro behind him. I take the scalpel into my hand once more and deepen the cut. I dab a piece of old gauze on the flowing blood and get to work. The stag's wounds have a black tinge to them.

A dark oil seems to have accumulated on them, oozing down his back in clearly defined rivers. He flinches when the fabric touches his damaged skin, but pushes back against me at the same time. His wounds close quickly — in an almost unsettling speed. ten minutes later my blood has clotted, but it was enough to rid Nyx of his most egregious bed sores. He lays a hand on his skull. "I'll need a lot more blood for this." I ask if I need to cut my other hand. Nyx has a shy curve on his lips when he looks up to me from the bed. His tail flicks to the left, to the right. He swings his taloned feet over the floor. When he speaks his voice is grave, however, rumbles with sobriety.

"You've been too kind already, Master. It would be terribly unfitting of a Keeper to impose a task upon his Master, let alone as many as you've aided me with so far." His one remaining eye is half-closed. "Please, worry not about me." He speaks then with a twinge of relief. "Unless Master has a task for me, I shall take some rest here and then wash myself. I am most unfitting now, for a Keeper of the Palace. Master need not worry." I frown at that. "Shouldn't you have some food first? What if you pass out in the bathroom?" I ask as I subconsciously count every one of his ribs.

"That shall not be an issue. I can obtain sustenance now that you've accepted me into your service. The Master commands Havena, and through the oath you have bequeathed me some of your power. I shall not go hungry again. There is much I can gladly teach you about the land, Master. It shall tend to your needs, if you know how to lead it. Observe." For half a second it's as if the entire world blinks out around me, and my mind goes blank alongside it. Now Nyx had in his hands an overflowing bunch of grapes. "Do you like grapes? I hope these are to your liking." I hesitate before accepting food from him. Shouldn't he the one eating first?

"The Master eats first, only then may the Keeper feed. Regardless, Master has been kind to me, and I would be happy to share with thee." The stag seems eager to have me taste the grapes. They are impossibly sweet but I only take a few so he may start eating. He flicks his ears and tail at my enjoyments, then starts wolfing down the grapes. He barely looks up to me now. As soon as he's run out of grapes a new bunch appears in his hands, then a cup of water and more fruits still. When he does finally look up to me, he slows down and tried to clean his muzzle of all the juicy bits. His eyes betrays a tinge of self-consciousness.

"I am sorry. I am more a beast than I am man. Sometimes it gets the better of me. I should not be so brutish around Master. Although, in my defense, my table manners are excellent when I have the benefit of not being starved." He cracks a half smile. Even naked, with a disfigured muzzle covered with grape juice, Nyx looks up to me with a noble-like posture: his back is straight and his shoulders shift slightly to a broader stance. There's a tinge of pride in his barely noticeable smile — the small joy of having kept his dignity even in impossibly harsh circumstances. Perhaps this would be a good moment to let the stag have some privacy. But before I speak, I notice the change in his eyes as he stares at me.

He sucks in a quiet gasp as his eye almost pops out of his head. I'm startled by this and quickly ask what's wrong. "You... You have her eyes..." A bitter smile falls on my lips. "Her eyes, huh? Guess I still have girly eyes." Now it was Nyx's turn to be confused. I notice this and say, "Ah, I was born a girl but realized that I'm actually a guy. I started hormone treatment and had surgery to remove my breasts. Now I'm legally Jiàn Talisko." I can see so many questions swirling in his eyes. He opens his mouth but closes it immediately. "I'll let you have your rest. I'll come back to check up on you later." Nyx bows to me — dignified, despite the juices running down his mouth and chest.

"I shall be presentable after washing up, Master. Worry not about me." I smile and give him a nod. "Very well. If you do need help just... Yell, alright? I don't want you getting hurt. Even if you can't die, as you say." Nyx takes a good look at me. His dark eye glimmers softly under the infirmary's light. There's almost a wetness to them. He breaths so slowly as he gazes at me, tail flickering to and fro. He takes in every feature of my face, one at a time. "Thank you for releasing me, Master." His eye betrays his drowsiness. He bows to me and, in doing so, nearly falls asleep. I tell him to go get his rest. "I will." I let him have his privacy. Once Jiàn's gone, Nyx breathes in a shaky breath.

"It can't be... yet he has the same eyes as her and the same last name. It has to be her... but now she's a he. Maybe that would be a problem for others, but he's still has to be the same person I've grown to admire. He has to be..." Nyx thought before he succumbed to sleep. I'm back in the ruined hallway. It stretches into the eating hall and further into the Palace. Up ahead something catches my eye: a leather-bound volume. A cursory look reveals most of its pages have been torn out, but the covers back side contains something written in the same script from the deed. The glyphs shift and twist under my gaze, marching into place the harder I stare.

After a few minutes however it turns uncomfortable, as if my mind was being drilled by the paper. I take a seat at the bar, just a foot away from the green glass shards scattered about over the purple stain. I lose myself in deciphering this script.

Nyx's Sentence

Hereby the High Council of Mer'elleth sentence the Prisoner Nyx to eternal damnation for his meekness and cowardice in disobeying his task. With this sentence his prison is created, the Land known as Havena, born out of the High Council's will. Havena shall serve as a kingdom to lost souls. Among the mortals of Earth, a Jailer will be picked to command and rewrite the realm. The Jailer and the Havena's mission is to secure the Prisoner's eternal torture. The Jailer shall enjoy power and freedom to rewrite Havena as to better enact his vision. Nyx of Khaen with every drop of his blasphemous blood is hereby sentenced to Havena.

By this decree the High Council's will is done.

I'm pulled from my trance by the bang of a door closing down the hallway. The light around me has shifted. I look back to the garden and the sun is already setting. Time passed in a flash, and now the barely registered steps on marble floor reaches my ears. The stag enters the lounge, sees me, and bows. "Hello, Nyx. Did you sleep well?" I greet him. "I did, Master. I must thank you for allowing me rest." I smile and slid off my chair. "That's good to hear. I take it you have no issue with your bath?" I ask warmly, happy to not smell the decades of filth on his fur. "I did not." Nyx stand up and looks at me directly.

"I should ask for your forgiveness. I left you waiting without providing a tour of the Palace. That was awfully unfitting of my position as the Palace's Keeper. I am at your disposal now, however. There are a few questions eating away at me, if you don't mind. But we can leave them for later if you aren't feeling well," I say. "I am well enough to fulfill my duty. What is it Master wishes to know?" I give into his stubbornness, knowing that I've basically been ignoring his role. "Well, to start off... I'll admit I'm a little worried about you. How are you feeling? Was the shower enjoyable?" The stag shifts his gaze, trying to read my expression and tone. Looking for a tinge of irony, or perhaps malice.

"I — I am well. It was quite peculiar showering after all those years. I had forgotten what water felt like. It is fortunate that my — my wounds were closed. It could have been a painful affair otherwise. For quite a while I just stood there, under the water. Thinking and feeling. All of that is to say... Yes, I am doing well. It is kind of you to ask. Is that all you wished to know?" After being reassured that he's alright, I move onto my most wanted answered question. "How did I get here? I kinda just woke up nearby." Nyx averts his eyes before forcing himself to meet my gaze once more. "Well, the powers in the Deed had brought you to this plain of existence."

I tilt my head, silently asking him to elaborate. "You are still on Earth, just in a different dimension. This dimension was created by the High Council, and they are the ones who have granted you the power to bend the laws of this reality." I say that I understand, but this leads me to another question. "This place... it isn't normal. In other words... what kind of place is this?" The stag's gaze goes to the floor. His feet scrape against it. "This realm was created to imprison me, the jailer's mission is to keep watch. And for that purpose the High Council saw it fit that matter could be spontaneously created... So the jailer's job would not be interrupted by 'petty things' such as material limitations,"

He pauses to look up at me and I nod for him to continue. "It is, as well, the Master's compensation. Being able to create whatever your heart desires of thin air... that is quite a reward, wouldn't you say?" I chuckle and agree with him. "That's right. This is no small power, with some creativity anyone could make a fortune off this place." I say, knowing that I'm barely scraping the surface of attaining such wealth, not that that was a goal for me. I'm content with what I have right now, however; no one wants to say no to owning a few nice things.. "Well, there are a few limitations... The realm refuses to make gold and silver in large quantities. As keeper it is my duty to instruct you on this matter."

"I'd appreciate that a lot, but we can leave that for later if it's complicated," I say, to which he nods in understanding. "Does Master have more questions?" He asks. I quickly nod and ask, "Who is the High Council? You've mentioned them before and they're the ones who did all of this." Nyx nods and swallows thickly before answering, "The High Council can be described as Gods. They are a group of beings that have been here since the creation of the universe. All races have come from them and were allowed to choose where to live. Humans chose Earth." I absorb what he's telling me. "So there are others like you?" Nyx's shoulders sag, his eyes filled to the brim with loneliness.

"...No. I am the only one of my kind. I shouldn't even exist; an abomination is what I am." I frown at that and get up from my seat. "Why do you say that about yourself?" Nyx sighs, as if it's supposed to be obvious. "I am the product of a Council member and a lowly creature. My existence is a sick joke, Master..." I release a sigh, not knowing how to comfort him. "Why should it matter that you were an accident? You're still here. I myself wasn't planned to be born. But I guess our situations are polar opposites, so I shouldn't try to compare. I just don't like seeing you hurt like this..." Nyx stares at me with wide eyes, clearly surprised by my response.

"Thanks for giving me some insight. Don't go overexerting yourself, I suppose this isn't a priority right now. Getting you patched up is more important. " "I think that's all I had in mind for now. This is a lot to take in. That gods and you exist, for starters, and that this place can just create matter out of thin air. Thanks for telling me all that. I'll just need some time to process it all," I say with a soft smile, unknowingly making the stag's heart beat faster. "It is a pleasure to serve. Could I provide Master with a drink? Would that please you?" He looks behind me, to the wall covered by dozens of bottles of liquor. "Well, I don't think those are safe. I checked a few of them, they weren't smelling right."

The corner of my lips upturned in humor. "That will not be an issue. I can muster more for Master," He insists. "Very well, go on." The stag walks behind the counter. The world blinks around me, and when I look again he holds a bottle of whisky. He walks with a spring in his step, but stops once he sees the purple stain on the floor. Whatever smidgeon of chirpiness was on his face is gone. He lowers himself to the floor and runs a hand over the dried-out wine. He tired scraping the dust off the ground, then rubbing his hand on it, to no avail. "What's on your mind?" I softly ask. The stag speaks without looking up to me.

"He went all the way, the previous Master. Locking me away wasn't enough, he had to go as far as breaking everything." He pauses as he frowns, as if scolding himself. The stag rises and supports himself on the counter. He summons a rag and goes through the motions of dusting. "No matter. Now, what is Master's want? I should tell you upfront, the Palace's liquor is quite impressive." Nyx may be up and walking, but he's still far from being well. He can use the help. The spiral staircase remains as welcoming as before. "Here. This floor is dedicated to the Master and those he allows in. The Palace bends to the Master's will. My power is similar to yours, albeit much weaker. In due time, the Palace shall conform from the ground up to your vision."

We reach my room and Nyx opens the doors for me. The living room ahead of me seems to have resisted the damage of time better than the rest of the Palace. It is dusty, and some chunks of the wall show the beginnings of mold, but that is nothing compared to the devastation I saw in the kitchen. Nyx says nothing at first. His gaze seems to be lost in the distance as he walks around inspecting the room. There are lines of wooden carvings on shelves. During the stag's silence, I take the chance to explore it myself. The living room is a sprawling lounge made to receive guests, both in great number and for an intimate get-togethers.

Under the sunset's light the wooden floor colors the room with a soft, warm hue. There's a master bedroom with a vast closet still filled with clothes. It's a wardrobe pulled straight from a cosplay convention, robes and more robes organized with a tireless devotion. There's also a large office, the kind you'd expect from an important executive. Sitting on the desk is a selection of finely-decorated fountain pens and a stash of documents, for the most part written in delicate calligraphy. Most of the documents are signed by a "Master Bastien", Although a handful bear an illegible scribble for a signature. There's a finely furnished bathroom off in a tight hallway to the side of the living room.

At the end of the corridor, after a sharp turn, there's a cramped, windowless chamber. It has a handful of remnants of the living room's warmth, albeit muted. The wood's color is faded, the ceiling is a meter lower, there is a little to no furniture. There is, however, an austere bed that looks larger than your typical single. Beside it is a tiny chest of drawers, with a handful of dusty poetry books piled on top alongside more wooden carvings. This room affords privacy, but little else. Nyx is going over it when I arrive. He cradles every wooden carving in the room, examining them one-by-one. Many of the carvings depict great deer. He opens one of the books, and a page marker falls from it.

He looks down at it but doesn't bother picking it up. The stag opens a small closet off to the side, and takes out what seems to be a long piece of fabric. He smells it, or perhaps hugs it to his chest. His bony snout leaves a stain of blood dust on it. He sighs and shudders. The stag looks back to me, acknowledging my presence for the first time since arriving here. "I am frightfully sorry, I was lost in thought. This floor is the Master's quarters. It contains your bedroom, office, living room and any other installations you wish to add. This room we are in, this... was my bedroom. I serve the Palace, but above all else I serve the Master." He lays the fabric gently down on his bed.

"It is often considered convenient to have me around, as I can cook and help the Master however he sees fit. There were Masters who had children, for instance. I would assist in tending to them, providing entertainment and play while the Master rested. Master Bastien was a man of culture. He enjoyed having me play my lyre for him at night." The stag's gaze wander away again, his hands starting to caress a wooden carving. It's at this point that I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, to which he tells me where it is. While in there, I have to take a breather. Everything that's been happening shouldn't be happening at all. I sigh and finish up my business, later washing my hands out.

When I walk out, the setting sun's orange tones color the entire apartment. It turns the suspends dust in the air into thousands of sparkling diamonds. The previous Master's carvings stare at me, wide-eyed and beckoning me further into the Quarters. The smell of old dust seems so small compared to how sweetly the room welcomes me. If a place could ever be alive, and if it could ever be naked, this is it. The Palace itself embraces me, its intimacy laid bare. Nothing moves and Nyx is nowhere to be seen. Silence reigns, save for a faint hum of life. I leave the wine bottle on the living room table. I delve deeper into my quarters, and the hum grows louder and sharper.

It's like breathing, ragged and pained. The dust visible under the sunlight shudders. The sound is coming from the office. Nyx is standing over the desk, his back to me, sobbing. My footsteps are not enough to make him aware of my presence. The stag sobs again and again, each one coming from deeper inside of him. They begin meek, hardly more than a snort. But he lays his hands on the desk and curls forward. His vertebrae jut sharply from his deathly thin skin, made more obvious by how he hunches over. He spits out a sob from the depths of his lungs. The dam bursts, he breaks into wave after wave of grunts and half-muffled screams.

He presses his face against the desk and claws at it, leaving his marks in the pristine wood until he falls to the ground, curled up like a child. He sees me then with his tear-drenched eye and ignores my presence. Master or not, I am too small. He curls further into himself, mouth covered by his hands as he lets out another muffled yell. The stag's voice breaks midway through and he goes silent, even if his mouth is still locked in agony. But Nyx looks up to me, aware of my presence, and makes no effort to hide or cower. In fact, he tried to speak, but I can't understand his slurred words, only that his voice has a tone of welcoming. I cross the gap separating the two of us on step at a time.

Nyx's eye does not avert from me. I sit by his side, back to the desk, and only then his gaze drops down to the floor into further sobbing. I drape an arm over his shoulder and pull him to me. The stag doubles down his crying, now muffled by my shirt. His fingers dig into me — his claws digging into my skin and draw a slight amount of blood from his pressure, but I don't mind. I rub the back of his head and let the stag go at his own pace. As the sun sets further, darkening the room, his crying grows quieter and more discreet as well. When all is dark except for the stars shining beyond the window, Nyx's hands relax and he slouches fully onto my chest.

He almost seems to be asleep, but I catch his eye looking up at me. Nyx is pacified, but I give him a few more minutes to make sure. His fingers dig into me one last time right as he sighs. "I beg your forgiveness, Master. I let my emotions control my strength and have punctured your skin with my claws." I shake my head as I caress his head. "Not to steal your line, but I've been through worse, Nyx. I will survive. I'm just happy to be here for you." He breathes in shakily, to which I wrap my arms around him in a hug. I give him a quick squeeze and pat him on the back before I help him up. He says nothing about what just happened, but accepts my hand.

And when I leave the office, he stays close by my side. Back in the living room, I guide Nyx to the sofa. He sits without questioning, but accompanies me with his gaze as I take a seat facing him. Nyx leans back on the sofa, a weak smile painted on his face. "Thank you for being so kind to me, Master." I wave my hand, giving him a kind smile. "Don't mention it, it was nothing." This seems to set the stag on a new train of thought. "Is that so? Master, if it is not impertinent of me, would you answer a few questions?" I give him a big smile, happy that he's finally willing to look past his role. "Sure, I don't see how that could be a problem," I reply as I sit across from him.

"I wish to know about the War. How did it end?" I tilt my head slightly. "War? Which war?" I ask. "The Cold War. The conflict between the Americans and communists. How did it end? Did communism take over the world?" I stop myself from laughing at such an idea, but I know that he had no way of finding out until now. "Yes, the world is doing fine, the Americans won the war. A lot of stuff happened since then." I briefly tell him the world's history after the Cold War, especially the aftermath of the war. "Oh, I'm so relieved to hear that. I've spent all those years locked away thinking about it. Master Bastien talked so many times about America..." His eyes glaze over in recollection.

"The fields of sunflowers, the fragrances, the fields. He found his way to the Palace, a shell-shocked young man fresh off the battlefield. He inherited the deed from the previous Master, and his rule over the Palace was a sight to behold. He was very kind, had a preference for bring in victims of war. It wasn't easy caring for so many amputees and shell-shocked men, but it was worth it. He loved it here, but I suppose he loved America the most. I couldn't dissuade him from returning home, to help in the protests for civil rights. He died in 1962. I felt it right when it happened. Felt the bullet going through my head in the middle of the night. In 1969, the next Master arrived, Master Cassius."

At the mention of Cassius' name, Nyx's gaze harshened and he became tense. "Cassius wasn't bad at first. He was very eager to please, to be of use to the guests. But there was something in him... A greed, I suppose. To merely be liked wasn't enough, you see. He and Master Bastien differed greatly. Bastien had a vision, to bring comfort to those affected by war. Cassius, on the other hand, didn't want to be liked, but worshipped." I bitter look washes over his features. "He had his eyes on a guest, a woman who held his mind in the palm of her hand. I can only believe it went badly. And so, he... well, you saw what he did to me. The guests are gone, and the Palace has been left to rot... I had glimpsed the beginnings of madness in his eyes. I am no fool. It was clear he was no sane man but I hoped he'd be harmless."

I immediately have the sense that I know said person personally. "I believe I met this Cassius you speak of. He gave me the Palace's deed. Talked a bit about himself, said he squandered his one chance at something good. He's a drunk now. Can barely talk right. He apparently was looking for me but I've never met him before." Thinking back to it, I relay what my past thoughts were. "When I checked the deed it all seemed like gibberish, too. I could only believe he wasn't thinking right and gave me some used napkin. He said he had done bad stuff during his life, but I never imagined it was bad as what I saw here." Nyx's brow is furrowed and his eyes wander.

He twiddles his thumbs while I speak. "He's still alive, then." He closes his eyes, wrinkling his visage in anger. Nyx looks up to the ceiling. His voice is relaxed now, almost soothing, but it carries a spike of sobriety. "Master, if you would once again permit it, may I speak freely? I may overstep my boundaries of being an outsider that has been looking into your life." I give him a curious look but slowly nod. He takes a deep breath before he begins. "If I'm not mistaken, your father left you when you were young, correct?" I narrow my eyes, wondering how he knew that. Even under my stare, Nyx wills himself to continue. "Did you ever learn the name of your father?" I have to hold myself back from scoffing.

"Of course, Mama had told me his name is Cass-" I choke on my words, realization slamming into me like a train. "N-no... no way," I say in shock as my posture dips forward slightly. "Cassius Talisko was my last Master. I remember him talking of his only child, a daughter named Ari..." Nyx gets up and retrieves something from the bookshelf. He looks at it for a moment before he returns to his seat. He slowly hands me the photo and I feel myself having to hold in a sob. It was a picture of me at one of my most memorable dance recitals. I was twelve in the picture. "Cassius had told me a lot about you, Master Jiàn..." I softly run my finger along the picture. "This is why you acted weird before...you had recognized me."

Nyx nods in affirmation. I sit back in my chair with a deep inhalation of air. Nyx silently watches me. "Master, if once again you would accept it, may I ask a question? This one however may be out of place for me as Keeper." I give him permission to tell me. "Havena was created to torture me as punishment for my crime. But over the years, the human Masters chose to impose a different will onto this realm. Each Master had a vision for it. We had a good run, a few good centuries ever since we started. Until, as you saw, Cassius came along. I wish to know your intentions. That is awfully out of place for me, as Prisoner. You are my captor, and I shall obey whatever your will may be."

Even at his words, he seems to not care anymore. "Nonetheless, I wish to have my impertinent question answered, if it isn't much. I should let you know, before you answer, that I am used to suffering. I've been through a lot worse than what you saw today." He took a shaky breath before continuing, "If your will is to torture me, like Master Cassius did, then you need not pretend. However, you accepted my oath and took me into your service, and now you've treated me with kindness. I would believe, then that you are not like him. Be honest, if you will. My servitude to you remains regardless of your choice, as I have none myself." I feel for the stag sitting in front of me. Such despair and sorrow in his voice...

I looked away from him, not being able to believe how cruel my father really was. Mama had told me that he wasn't a good man, that's why when she found out she ran away with me to protect me from him. "I didn't know what I was getting into when I accepted this deed. A lot has happened in a single day. Finding out I had met my dad at my work of all places, somehow being transported here, finding this place and meeting you, who knows more about me than most just from a picture. I couldn't have imagined any of this from his ramblings. But... yes. I intend to be a good Master, to the Palace and to you. I know you're feeling me out, trying to see if I am the same as my father. But I'm not trying to trick you. By what you've told me, I'd have no reason to. Maybe it's hard for you to believe me right now, but I mean it."

Nyx does not answer at first. Only his deep breathing cuts the room's silence. "It's been so long. I don't know for how many years I was locked away. I must admit, the mere thought of asking gives me chills. Master, can you... imagine? For centuries, I've been tending to this Palace. It was my mercy, what saved me from torture and gave me purpose. It was hard work, and not all Masters have been kind over the centuries. But it was wonderful nonetheless, I enjoyed every moment of it. And then... Master Bastien died. I could have done more to try and stop him. I should have. The he came, Cassius. I am used to pain, but I had grown accustomed to having a purpose."

He looks up at me, into my eyes. "Today you freed me, took me into your service, and now you call tell me you wish to be a good Master. Allow me to speak frankly. I am afraid of you. Terribly so. You are my jailer." He lets out a sigh, as if confessing that had taken some weight off of him. "Over the centuries I grew comfortable with enjoying my Masters, but after Cassius it's all come back to me. I am so afraid of what you can do to me. There's no choice but to obey your every command. I am so sorry for saying this. It is profoundly out of place for the Keeper to address the Master in such a way. I suppose that, even if I'm afraid of you I've lost my fear of pain and overstepping boundaries. All of that said... Despite my fear, I find myself... wanting to believe you." Nyx gets up from the sofa and walked up to me.

He's clearly tipsy, stumbling about as he approaches. The stag kneels before me. "I wish dearly for your words to be true. I am not afforded choice on whether or not I shall obey you. I am a Prisoner. But if indeed your words are true, if your heart is truly set on being a good Master... Then I shall follow you. Not out of duty, but out of want — and were I ever allowed true freedom I would remain by your side. I swore to serve you, and now I swear to follow you — for as long as your word holds true." He looks up to me. The room is dark, lit only by moonlight coming through the window, but I can see a glimmer in the stag's eye. I pull him from his kneeling position into a hug.

He is light, barely heavier than a child. In my arms he is stiff and cold, but just as my hands stroke his back he returns the gesture and rests his muzzle on my shoulder. He sniffles once, twice, and presses his face into my neck. "Thank you, Master." He breathes in deeply, as if learning my scent. Night quickly settles. The Palace has no electricity, but I can do with candle. My shadow and Nyx's slither onto the walls, trembling alongside the flickering flames. The Master's quarters are filled with the velvety sounds of life — breathing, footsteps, furniture creaking under me. From outside, a passerby would see this ruined Palace with a single candle-lit window.

If he perchance tried exploring it, he'd only find unending hallways of black and white marble. He could seek out the comfort of this candle-lit room but would never find it, locked away as it is behind a doorless wall. Silence drips back over the two of us. More often than not Nyx is turned towards me, following with his gaze. Just when I realize how hungry I am, he summons a humble feast for me — fruit, cheese, water, even a regular bottle of wine. He turns his back to you to set the table. He stumbles a bit, and a few apples roll off to the ground. I catch him giving me a sideways glance. His nostrils flare under his nervous breathing. Nyx seizes.

His back broadens as he breathes in, and then his shoulders slouch forward with his exhale. He gazes back at me, as if trying to say something, and after a few seconds he returns to setting the table. His tail flicks behind him, perhaps even with some chirpiness. When dinner is ready, he presents it to me with a half-smile on his lips. My candle-lit dinner is simple and uneventful. Any offer to have Nyx eat alongside me is brushed off with a shake of his head. It's a long, deliberate movement. I then ask him if there's any way to restore the Palace's electricity. "There is, yes. We must perform the revival ritual, and for that we must use a special object. It is an obsidian dagger, and it will bring the entire Palace back to life." Shortly after, with nothing else to do for the night, the both of us find rest in our respective rooms.

The deer minotaur dreams.

After another taxing day of being used and abused, Nyx sought comfort in his Master's quarters. Master Cassius was in the dining hall, holding a party that Nyx would rather not attend. Not that he was wanted, anyway. He planned on just going to his room, but something had caught his eye. He turned towards it and saw that it was the photograph of Ari, Cassius' daughter. He gingerly plucks it from the shelf and scans the image. He remembers what Cassius had said about her. How she was so smart and ambitious. That she was born to dance. Cassius had joked that she was dancing before she started to walk. While Cassius was never part of her life, he had made sure to keep tabs on her.

She's so full of life. Wherever she goes, happiness and kindness follow right behind her. Hearing more and more about the girl, he found himself wanting to know her personally. But what started as wanting to be her friend, slowly turned into a pining for her. He so desperately wanted to love her, give her every part of himself. He closes his eyes and hums but when he opens them, he finds himself in a field of white flowers that seemed to stretch forever.. Everything was glowing, especially a certain person. It's then that he realizes that it's Ari. But as he continues to stare, she morphs into a man. A man he knows is Jiàn... his new master. Jiàn was humming a sweet tune as he braided flowers together.

Jiàn smiled and looked up to meet his eyes. He suddenly jumped up and started laughing as he ran away, looking back at Nyx, beckoning him to chase after him. A playful smile found his lips as he started walking in the direction of where Jiàn was going. Jiàn glanced back, before laughing again and speeding up. The two ran through the field, the summer breeze playing with the Jiàn's hair. However, their little game ended when Nyx reached out and grabbed Jiàn, bringing him into his chest as they fell to the ground. Nyx now laid on his back, staring down at the heap of a man on top of him. Panting softly, Jiàn looked up at Nyx . He hummed softly as he pushed himself up, his face now level with Nyx's.

No words were spoken as the two got lost in each other's eyes. Jiàn smirked before a look of yearning filled his gaze as he leaned forward and captured Nyx's lips. Nyx hummed into the kiss, feeling that all too familiar warm feeling build up in his chest. As they parted, a string of saliva kept them connected before ultimately breaking. "Where are you today? On a distant planet? Or perhaps you're deep in the jungle." Jiàn laughs and pulls back to look into Nyx's eyes. He brings a hand up and lovingly strokes the deer's cheek. "It's such a shame that dreams don't last long, especially the good ones." With a final kiss, the serene field starts to crumble and so does Jiàn.

He jumps from dream to reflection. Master Bastien and Cassius. The cold room. The new Master. Freedom from the darkness. Food — and wine. Nyx grasps the dusty sheets. It's been decades since he slept on a bed. He feels no bedsores on his back. Instead of the cold room's stench there is only the slightly mold smell of his old room. His lips — half deer, half skeletal — threaten to curl into a smile. But doubt eats away at him, churns in his stomach. The stag unceremoniously rises from his bed. No matter what comes next he must work, work and then work some more. While he shuffles through the he mumbles an old poem from memory.

"You came. And you did well to come. I longed for you and you brought fire. To my heart, which burns high for you." A mirror makes it clear how much of a disgrace he is. The gaping, fleshless hole in his skull makes his ichor bubble and threaten to burst from his mouth. But... he's less of a disgrace than he was the day before. And for the last fifty years. There is some mercy in that. He forces a half-smile and goes out. As soon as he steps out, however, his ear flicks. He catches a distant tune — chirpy, once could say even joyous. It is faint but unmistakable.The smile disappears from his face and is replaced with a ghostly grim canvas.

#teratophillia #male monster oc #monster x human #monster #monsters #monster love #monster lover #fantasy #fantasy creatures #fantasy creature #monster romance #writing #reader insert #male reader insert #trans reader #male monster

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flannelpunkcalum · 4 years

Text

Twinkle Twinkle Little Bat - Chapter 3

last chapter

cw: death but also there’s like a lil hot stuff in the middle to even it out? I realized when writing this chapter and the next one this is gonna be p dark but i guess Aspen got kidnapped and tortured last time so you guys will be fine. i saw a moose today.

tdwk masterlist

ttlb masterlist

* * *

“I gotta come over for dinner more often.” Aspen said, spooning more spinach on her plate. Spinach. What the fuck was Alfred’s cooking doing to her? She never ate her vegetables. “Actually, I should have you guys over for dinner one of these days so you can truly appreciate what Mr. Pennyworth does for you. A terrible little palate cleanser.”

“You flatter me, Ms. McMichael.”

If Aspen didn’t know better, she’d say Alfred was blushing. They were all eating around the kitchen table, feasting on homemade turkey meatballs, spinach, brown rice, and sweet potato, all topped with some kind of sauce that she just wanted to bathe in. It was healthy, sure, but it was good. “I’m telling the truth. I feel like I’ve been trapped in a culinary version of Plato’s allegory of the cave, and I’ve finally left the shadows on the wall behind.”

“High praise indeed.”

“Indeed.” She grinned.

“I think it’s good, too.” Dick piped up. If Aspen looked down, she could see his legs swinging under his chair. When she had come into the manor, he had immediately pulled her over to the kitchen, competing with her to scoop meatballs out of the pan while Alfred wasn’t looking. He’d used any time when he didn’t have his mouth full to tell her about his day at school. Calum hadn’t tried to pull her away; they both knew they could talk about the meeting in depth after dinner and before patrol. The looks he kept giving her out of the corner of his eye made her think he had noticed something was wrong, but for now, especially in front of Dick, they were leaving it be. Aspen was starting to really get attached to her new dysfunctional nuclear family.

“Thank you, Master Grayson.” Alfred nodded.

It was moments like this that Aspen regretted letting Calum into her heart. What if things went sour between them and she lost this? The good food, the company, Alfred’s buttoned-up love, Dick’s easy devotion. It was supposed to be better to have love and lost, she knew, but this was the first time she had felt like this in years. If Calum tried to ice her out, she’d lose a family on top of everything. She wanted to believe they were both too mature to let that happen, but sometimes she had trouble having faith in that.

“Aspen?”

“Hmm?” She looked up to find all three of the boys staring at her. “Sorry, I zoned out.”

“Dick was asking about how the meeting with the DA went today.” Calum said helpfully. Aspen could see mischief in his eyes - evidently, that bastard was proud of how long he had managed to weasel into her meeting.

Aspen took a deep breath, collecting herself. “Well,” she said, “after a diplomatic compromise had been reached where your guardian would accompany me to the meeting to say hi, but not - not - insert himself into it, he of course went and did that anyways.”

Calum’s eyebrows furrowed like he was hurt. He wasn’t. She wasn’t going to fall for it - butter wouldn’t melt in his perfect mouth. “Finch invited me in. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I dunno how you’ve kept your identity a secret so long, you’re a terrible liar.” Aspen turned to Dick and Alfred, gesturing with her fork as she spoke. “He deliberately used language that would make Finch, who is already eager to please him based on status, feel socially required to invite him in. And then he was smug about it.”

Cal ducked his head, smiling sheepishly. He liked being caught by her. “I wasn’t that smug.” He said to the rest of the table.

The implicit confirmation of Aspen’s accusation didn’t go unnoticed by anyone, as far as she could tell. Good.

“You were smug enough.” Aspen said to him before turning back to Dick. “But the rest of it went fine. We talked about the two trials. They’re probably gonna offer Liam a plea bargain to testify against Falcone, which I’m fine with. It’s whatever. I mean -” she said, realizing that that flippant language showed how much she was bothered, “- I don’t think he’d, like, try to kidnap me again, so it’s something I’m comfortable with.”

“You look nervous.” Dick said.

Fuck kids and their openness. Aspen was starting to think that Dick knew he was a cute young man, and was using his innocent look against her. “...I am a little nervous.” She said after a minute. Under the table, Calum’s hand found her knee and squeezed in support. She took a deep breath before continuing. “It’s still kinda fresh, and I found out that some stuff happened while I was knocked out today that I didn’t know about, which is fun to deal with. But from a logical point of view, I know that Liam’s unlikely to do anything criminal with Falcone out of the way, and our best chance to get Falcone out of the way is to use his testimony. So.” She sliced a meatball in half and stuck it in her mouth so she didn’t have to talk about it anymore.

Calum’s hand left her knee as he leaned in towards her. Aspen mourned the loss of its warmth, but she knew with Dick around the gesture was really risky anyways. “What was it you found out? You didn’t mention anything.”

Aspen took her time chewing and swallowing. “Um. It’s just - you know what, I’d rather not talk about it at the table. It’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, it’s just new, you know?”

To her surprise, Dick nodded sagely. “I know.”

“...I guess you all would, huh.” Aspen commented, surveying the table for a moment. There was probably no other group that would understand better than the one she found herself in. She was lucky. Group therapy with catering. “Thanks.” She said, and she meant it.

“We’re all here for you, Ms. McMichael.” Alfred said, and affection in his voice made Aspen feel close to tears.

“Alright, alright, don’t make me cry at the table.” Aspen finished the spinach on her plate and laid her cutlery on her plate with the handles together. “Gangin’ up on me, the whole Batfamily, not a merciful bone in your bodies. I don’t know why I bother to come by.”

Alfred started to gather the plates, but as Aspen stood up to help Calum laid a hand on her arm, stopping her from reaching her water glass. “Come up to my office? I want to know what happened at the meeting after I left.”

Aspen tried not to get evasive. She knew what that meant. “Sure.” She chirped, drawing her hand back. “Call me for dessert, alright?” She said to Dick as she followed Calum out of the kitchen. He saluted, which she paused in the doorway to return.

“Aspen?”

“I’m coming.” She said, hurrying to catch up to Calum. Every so often he’d do his fast busy-CEO-with-places-to-be walk again, and she’d have to rush after him like it was her first day all over again. It was rarely a good sign.

She didn’t try to talk to him on the way to his office. She just followed in his slipstream until the heavy oak door was closed behind them. Before she could sit down in one of the cushy leather armchairs, he grabbed her hand, spinning her around so she was facing him. He held one hand at her jaw and the other at her waist, so she couldn’t move, couldn’t even turn her face away from him. He was going to press her for details, now. Interrogate her.

“You should have said something sooner.”

Wait, what?

Aspen met Calum’s eyes, startled out of her apprehension. He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, looking at her... tenderly. Was this a ruse? Good cop sans bad cop? “I didn’t realize you were that shaken back there.” He continued.

She flexed her shoulder in the tinitest shrug possible. “It didn’t need to get in the way.”

Calum tilted her face in his grip, and she let him. She didn’t struggle as he looked her over, like he was trying to see through her. She wanted to, but she didn’t. “It’s important to me that you feel safe. I could have ended the meeting, I could have gotten you out of there. That’s why I went in the first place, right? Not to bother you. To look after you.”

Aspen blinked. She hadn’t really thought about it that way. “I didn’t need to end the meeting. I did fine. I mean, sure, I had my moments, but - that’s not important.” She smiled a little. “But thank you.”

She tried to crane up for a kiss, but Calum’s grip was unyielding. What? “No. Don’t try to distract me. This is important.” He said sternly.

She sighed, and with his tight grip on her she knew he could feel it. “No, come on, I’m vulnerable. Give me some creature comforts here.”

“Soon.” Calum said, sliding his arm around her shoulders and tucking her into his side.

He lead her towards the couch, and once she sat down he adjusted her so her head was resting on his shoulder. “Bossy.” Aspen squirmed, but he only kissed her forehead in response.

“Tell me about it.”

Aspen took a deep breath. Exactly what was she gonna say? She could stall by willfully misinterpreting him, that was a start. “Well, I’m gonna be very generous and not wax poetic on you being a control freak, and a-”

“Quit stalling.”

“Fine.” She sighed. Might as well rip off the band-aid. “I didn’t know that Liam had put me in his trunk. I didn’t really think about the logistics of him driving me at all, but I just - learning that he just shoved me in the trunk kind of shook me for a second. So that wasn’t great.” Wait. Maybe she should have resisted his interrogation further. He was the one who had brought that up, not Finch, and realizing that - he’d probably feel like shit. “Like I said, it wasn’t a big deal.”

This time, it was Aspen who could feel Calum sigh. “I forget you never watched the footage.” He said, by way of apology.

“It’s fine. I’m especially glad I didn’t, now, but…” Aspen tried to laugh, but Calum didn’t budge. “I got through it fine, I really did. It was just hard to think about for a minute.”

Calum turned his head to kiss her forehead again. She politely did not take this opportunity to jump his bones and distract him. “I have something else you’ll probably want to know, but you’re not gonna like it.” He didn’t even shift nervously under her, but she could feel tension in him grow. “It’s not that bad.” She said to soothe him.

Calum laughed at that. “Whenever you say that, I get really nervous.”

“Fuck off.” She said,but she was smiling bravely. At least they weren’t so distressed now. “You can’t, like, go on the warpath about this, okay?”

“Tell me.”

Aspen braced herself. “After you left, Finch asked me to go to Blackgate and try to convince Liam to take the plea.”

Calum didn’t move.

That was worse than him sighing. Aspen twisted in his grip until he let go of her enough to let her turn sideways and pull herself into his lap, like a heroine on the cover of a romance novel. “I said no, of course, and I told him I wouldn’t tattle so you can’t go ballistic on him the next time you see him, alright?”

He shook his head. He wasn’t looking at her, now, eyes focused sharp like he was going to set a lampshade on fire with his glare. “I should have stayed.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. It’s his job to ask, Cal, and this way we know something about him we wouldn’t have otherwise.”

Calum was shifting now, like he was gonna get up and head after Finch right this second. “That he’s a rat bastard who doesn’t deserve to -”

“No, that he’ll do anything to get Falcone charged.” Aspen said. It was her turn to grab his face and make him look at her. His jaw felt like it was throbbing in her hands. “He goes after the big dogs. Maybe he’s a bit, um, obtuse about it, but we can use that.”

She was right. Calum had to admit that. But now he was avoiding her gaze. She hadn’t seen him mad like that since… one of her stupid escapades, maybe. Somehow it was worse, seeing him all worked up over someone else.

“I know it’s frustrating to not be able to do anything about it.” She said after a long moment of his silence. “But hey, on the plus side, I’m not lying to you about it.”

Calum snorted despite himself. “I would have found it out.”

Aspen smiled, and pressed a kiss to his still lips. “No, you wouldn’t have.”

He didn’t smile back against her lips, but he did bring a hand up to cradle her face. “I wanted to be there so you’d feel comfortable, so this would’t -” He cut himself off, looking at her as softly as he could manage. “Now would be a good time for you to try that distracting thing you do.”

She could work with that.

Aspen pushed on his shoulders, and for once Calum fell back easily, twisting so he was lying flat on the couch. She straddled his lap, taking a moment to look at him. On a whim, she tried reaching out and smoothing the wrinkle in his forehead. “You worry about me too much.” She said.

“I worry about you just enough. Now come on,” he almost whined, reaching up for the back of her head, “get down here.”

Her lips were on his before his hand could tangle in her hair, and for the third time that day, Aspen kissed him like she wasn’t his secret and they had all the time in the world. He brought his other hand down to her waist, dangerously low, and for a second she wondered if they had time. If they could fall apart together on this leather couch before dessert. They didn’t have the time, she knew that, but with the feeling of his lips on hers and the soft glide of their tongues she almost didn’t care.

Calum sighed and shifted underneath her, and she lifted one hand from where it was supporting her to cup his face and direct the kiss a little more. Yeah, he was gonna break it off eventually, but she was going to make it as hard for him as possible. In fact… Aspen rocked gently on her knees, drawing herself over Calum’s groin, whimpering into his mouth just a little so he’d know how much she wanted him. Calum moved fast, grabbing her hips with both hands tight enough that she couldn’t do it again. “Don’t,” he warned. “We don’t have time.”

Aspen made another little sound and rested her forehead against his, relaxing in his grip. Calum didn’t budge. Damn, he saw right through her ruse. “Jus’ wanna feel you,” she whined.

“So feel me here.” He craned up to kiss her.

“It’s not enough.”

Calum sighed so big she could feel his chest rise against hers, then moved his hands to pull her in. One travelled back to the back of her neck, pushing her to nestle her face in the crook of his neck. “We’ll figure something out eventually,” He said. He was so close he only needed to flex his lips to kiss her neck. “But just this for now, okay?”

“You know you’re only building the anticipation.” Aspen grumbled, squirming a little in his grip until she slipped down on one side of him. Her leg was thrown over his, and if she had been desperate she could have bucked her hips to taste a little friction that way. She wasn’t desperate, though. Not so much, not yet. “It’d be better to let it out in a controlled setting.” She grazed her fingers along his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under his shirt. “I know you like to be in control.”

Calum caught her hand in one of his, holding it tight enough Aspen barely tried to tug it free before she gave up. “Why don’t you ever behave, then?”

Aspen kissed his cheek. “You gotta earn it.”

With that, she rolled away and stood up, leaving Calum on the couch. It was getting dark out now, and she used her reflection in the window to brush her hair back into place. In the slight warping of the glass, she could see Calum stand up behind her and make his way over, wrapping his arms around her waist to hug him into her.

“Oh, you really are distracted.”

Calum laughed a little, meeting her eyes in their reflection. “Can you blame me?” He cuddled her closer, and for once Aspen didn’t try to rub herself up against him. She could feel him pressing into her ass, hard enough to feel through their clothes. “You have no idea how much I want to bend you over my desk right now.” He continued, voice dropping low. “You’d be quiet for me, wouldn’t you, baby?”

Aspen pulled herself out of his grip, face warm, and wheeled around to face him. He was smug, again, smirking back at her as she tried to regain her composure. This wasn’t fair. “Who’s teasing now?”

“I guess you’re rubbing off on me.” Calum grinned.

“You - fuck off.” She tried to tuck her shirt in, although it hadn’t been before - she needed something to do with her hands. “I would be rubbing off on you right now if you weren’t such a fucking spoilsport.” She grumbled.

Calum grabbed her hand and squeezed it once before letting it fall back to her side. “Let’s go downstairs, Penny. Dessert’s probably waiting.”

“Coulda had dessert up here, but no, Calum wants his fuckin’ souffle.”

He was still pleased with himself behind her, she could hear it in his voice when he said “Call it payback.”

“For what?”

As she opened the door, he pulled the knob from her hand so he could hold it for her, and maybe fix himself behind it. “Everything.”

Aspen laughed, and she was still laughing when she caught sight of Dick coming down the hall. Fuck. She didn’t try to rein her laughter in, that would have just looked suspicious, so she just asked “Is dessert ready?” to signal to Calum that they had an audience.

“Just about.” Dick said. He waited for them to reach him before they all started down the hall together. Even though she was a little miffed that she couldn’t keep flirting brazenly with Calum, it was nice to have all three of them walking down the hallway, almost like they were in slow motion. Almost like they were a family. Not that she was ready to be a mom to Dick, or anything - fuck, he’d been through enough, she didn’t need to inflict herself on him.

But she’d stay as long as they asked her to.

* * *

“I can’t believe you’re allowed to be up this late on a school night.” Aspen grumbled from her place at the control panel.

“I’ve got all As.” Dick said evenly into his hot chocolate.

“Yeah, well, when I was your age I had A bedtime.” Dick didn’t reply to that, and it took Aspen all of fifteen seconds of him giving her that serene yet challenging look he did for her to cave. He had almost definitely learned it from Calum. “I’m just fussing because I would have loved to do this when I was your age. I’m, like, retroactively jealous.”

“Sure.”

Aspen pretended to glare at Dick, which finally got him to crack a smile and break his own facade. “You have whipped cream on your nose.” She lied, just to make him check.

“Are you two playing nice in there?”

Calum’s voice came through the comms they both wore, making them both sit up a little more in their chairs. When he was out on patrols, he had the option to tune into their channel or not, as he saw fit. They had the same option back at the cave, but they never really turned his feed down unless he was, like, eating a granola bar on a safe rooftop somewhere. Aspen knew she was powerless if things went sideways, of course, but it made her feel a little bit better.

“Always.” Aspen said, at the same time that Dick said “No.”

Calum huffed a little under his breath. That was as close as he got to a laugh on these nights. “Alright.” They heard wind brushing past the mouthpiece, a tiny grunt as he settled on some surface. “‘S quiet tonight.”

“Too quiet?” Aspen asked, looking at the little red dot showing where he was in the city.

“No. Like the last few nights.”

“Do you think it’s because Falcone’s in jail?” Dick pipped up.

Calum took his sweet time answering. “That, or something’s coming.”

Aspen rolled her chair over to the police scanner and turned it up a little. She didn’t want to think about that. She was sure she’d be able to handle whatever came her way, and Calum was too, or else she wouldn’t be allowed down here. She poked her tongue into the inside of her cheek, a nervous tick she’d developed when she was getting used to her scar healing on that side.

She could handle a lot. She just had to remember that.

“You could go break up a brawl at Amsterdarn.” She suggested after a moment of listening through the static.

Calum snorted.

Aspen didn’t blame him. Amsterdarn was one of those flashy mixology bars, which she could only assume was full of designer party drugs and weird things to smoke. Right now, Venom was more of a cheap, dangerous fix for those with nowhere else to turn, so there was nothing there to interest him. Just trust fund kids getting scrappy and giving each other bloody noses.

As opposed to her trust fund kid, who did almost the same thing but in body armour.

Whatever. If the GCPD couldn’t handle some rowdy financial analysts, they didn’t deserve to have the Batman risking his neck against the supercriminals out there.

“I’m going to use this time to monitor a few active targets I’ve had my eye on.” Calum said finally.

“Man, I’m sorry I’m stuck back here.” Aspen deadpanned.

Dick laughed, but tried not to. “I’m glad to be here. I’m learning.”

“Yeah, yeah, boy wonder.” She rolled her eyes.

“It’s late.” Calum interrupted. “You should go home.”

Aspen had been thinking about it, but now that he had said that she was staying. “I’ll be fine. I only really need to be awake for an hour or two tomorrow, anyways, the only important thing I have planned is that meeting with the hospital.”

“Oh, no big deal, then.”

“It’s a school night, you can’t talk to me.” Aspen fired back to Dick, and pretended to listen to the police scanner again. Maybe she should make gels tonight. Keep herself busy. She hadn’t had much need to run any DNA analysis gels, other than doing a few test runs and cute science experiments with Dick, but it would be good to be prepared. Shouldn’t make Gotham’s Caped Crusader wait on agar to harden.

That was pretty much how the night went. Aspen made agar gels to keep herself awake, and Dick drank hot chocolate and monitored the console just in case. After an hour or two of listening to Calum breathe in her ear she looked up and realized the kid had fallen asleep, so she took a moment to go off coms and shepherd him into bed. She wasn’t sure if Alfred was awake or not, but she did feel confident that he’d appear if anything did go sideways so she didn’t mind looking after the cave herself. Just her and the bats, and she liked the bats.

It was late - one? Two? When the call came through. Well, not call. Calum just said, very suddenly, after an hour of comfortable silence - “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Aspen’s stomach twisted.

“Police scanner,” was all Calum said, and Aspen set her erlenmeyer down to hurry over to the little radio box.

“...car 62-4, could we get a 10-9? Over.”

“10-100 near pier 72 at Port Adams, over.”

“Car 57-2, we’re about eight minutes away, over.”

“10-4 57-2, forensics is on its way. Over and out.”

Aspen hadn’t memorized the police codes yet. She had a cheat sheet nearby - somewhere - fuck, she couldn’t find it. “What does that mean?” It wasn’t a shooting, it wasn’t a psych patient, a riot was a 10-34…

“It’s a dead body.”

Aspen bit her bottom lip. “Oh.”

“I’m going to check it out. Might be able to get some good information before the CSI team tramples all over it.”

Now was not the time for Aspen to argue with Calum over his disrespect of her (unknowing) colleagues, so she just nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. She knew a lot of trade went in and out of Port Adams every day, and a lot of it was underground. Cal was probably hoping this body would help him crack into a smuggling ring somehow, and she knew he loved racing the cops on almost every occasion. Aspen was still just getting used to responding to that kind of thing.

Calum got there first, she could tell from the blip on the screen and his little pant of triumph as it got closer to the docks. “I see it. I’m setting the cowl to photography mode.” He said.

“Sounds good.” Aspen said, like she was excited to look at pictures of a corpse.

“I’ll upload them to you as I - oh, no. Is he there?”

Aspen’s stomach twisted. They didn’t use names on the comm, but she knew who he meant. If he didn’t want Dick to see the body, it must have been bad. “No, he went to bed.”

She heard Calum let out a long slow breath. “Good.” Another pause. “Shit.”

Aspen could hear sirens now through Calum’s mic. He had to get out of there before the Bat became a suspect, but before she could remind him the first of the photos uploaded to the console in the Batcave. It was dark, but her eyes didn’t even need a minute to adjust before it hit her like ice cold water - “Oh my god.”

She was a child.

#welcome to the plot bitches #as always lmk what you think!!!! how you're feeling!!!!#happy monday #and what have y #my wriring #ch blurb #ch fic #calum hood series #calum hood fic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #ttlb 3 #ttlb #this would have been up sooner if my network had let me upload the pic

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chonkychornes · 5 years

Text

Open Arms Part 3

Synopsis: You come back broken from a mission, and the one person who could barely put himself back together is the one who is trying to help you.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language? Angst. Smut…eventually. UST. 3 of ? parts. How’s this as a warning: this is my first reader insert fic and it was a challenge, y’all. So, as long as it isn’t the worst thing anyone has ever read, I’m still doing okay! I hope you enjoy it!

Also, this is really for @quant-um-fizzx I couldn’t have/wouldn’t have done any of this without her help and guidance.

Part 1

Part 2

Two weeks after the great switcheroo, you have your biggest setback thus far.

Sleep had not come easily the last few nights and you knew a nightmare of epic proportions was brewing just under the surface. You had worn yourself out as much as possible by doing several circuits in the gym. Your nightly routine included drinking some herbal nighttime tea and taking a healthy dose of melatonin … and yet you still found yourself keyed up and anxious.

You started thinking of, well, everything while you waited for the eventuality of the night to overtake you.

That’s when the idea of the nice warm bed, with the nice warm man down the hall springs to mind. There’s something to be said about being completely physically satisfied to make you sleepy and Steve was always good at turning your brain to mush.

You weigh the pros and cons quickly before you realize that it would be just like it was before; a moment in time where you used each other for what you needed. Surely, your best friend wouldn’t deny you that, right?

Slipping out of bed and creeping down the hall in an oversized T-shirt, courtesy of the man himself, and socks that you can’t seem to sleep without now, you wonder how stupid this is going be.

“Hey, Steve? Remember how I said I didn’t want us to fuck around anymore? Well, I can’t sleep. Can you just nail me real good so I pass out?” You snort to yourself and try not to laugh out loud. You figure by the time you wake him up the two of you will just talk until you feel tired enough to pass out, or the moment subsides.

When you get to the door that leads to Steve’s personal quarters, you key in the code quickly and turn the handle, but the door remains locked. Confused, you try it again several times until FRIDAY’s voice comes over quietly due to the late hour.

“Miss, Captain Rogers changed the code two weeks ago. Would you like me to wake him up?”

You stand up rod straight and realize that this is the dumbest thing you could possibly do.

“No, please don’t wake him. I’m sorry I bothered you, Friday.”

“Not at all, Miss. Is there any way I can be of assistance?”

FRIDAY was a fully functional, self-aware AI; you could have a full conversation with her if you wanted.

“Is anyone else up? Where are they?”

“Mr. Stark is in the R&D lab, of course. He’s asked to not be disturbed unless there is an emergency. Mr. Barnes is in the pool.”

“Thanks.” You slide down the hall and enter your quarters to run into your room and strip down, only to pull your swimsuit on. Laps sound good right about now. Being around another person sounds good.

The moment has passed and now that you think about it as you throw the nightshirt back over you, it wasn’t even about sex. You just need to be around someone.

When you reach the pool, you’re automatically mesmerized by the body slicing through the water. It’s all muscles, pale skin, and one gleaming arm.

James “Jesus sweetheart, even in Wakanda they didn’t call me that” Barnes pops up at the opposite end of the pool from where you are and wipes the water from his eyes. When he sees you, he offers a sly smile.

“A little late for you to be making your rounds,” he pulls himself up on the edge to sit and kicks his legs in the water. “What’re you doin’?”

You pull off the shirt and toss it aside before sitting on the edge of the pool and plunking your legs in the warm water. A shrug eeks out of you and suddenly, that desire to be around someone dissipates and you feel like you don’t know what to say or how to say it.

“I just … I was feeling a little lonely, I guess.”

He nods and stares at you, “It’s weird, right? You think you want to be around people but then when you are, you don’t want to be.”

“Yes! And when I know for a fact that I want so desperately to be alone, that’s when I go looking for everyone,” you trail off as you see him nod.

“Your mind is always going to feel al little twisted now.”

“Does it get easier?” You can feel the tears pricking at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

“Sure, but you know that you’re never the same, right? There’s a part of you that’s broken and it can be mended, but it will always be weak,” he slides back into the water and in what seems like a flash, is up on the ledge next to you and you can feel droplets of water falling off of the ends of his hair onto your skin.

“It doesn’t mean that you are weak,” he staring at you and you wish you didn’t feel like you were being scrutinized. “Just those parts of you. The parts make up the whole, darlin’. You just gotta remember that.”

You smile and lean your head on his shoulder and let those tears finally fall. He wraps an arm around you as you tell him about the last couple of nights and the nightmare you know is just under the surface.

He offers you some meditation techniques and promises to work with you on them in the next few days.

“Wanna race?” He’s breaking the tension and you’re grateful for it.

You laugh and poke him in the shoulder, “Sure, but you have got to ditch the ace in the hole.” You reach around and touch his metal arm and his ensuing laugh echoes off the tiled walls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week after your night swimming session, Steve selects Sam and Nat to join him on what should be a week-long mission. He comes to your quarters to tell you about his departure and when you ask why James isn’t going his answer is a shock to you.

“He’s staying for you,” Steve sits on your sofa and stares up at you as you gape at him.

“‘I don’t need a babysitter,” your voice is taking on a shrill tone, but you don’t care. “ Besides, there’s plenty of people here if I need anyone.”

He rubs the back of his neck and sighs, “There is no way to say this that doesn’t make this sound bad, so just take a seat and deal with it.” He pats the cushion next to him and you sit with your arms crossed.

You already don’t like what he has to say.

“Bucky sees you as a pet project … of sorts. He just wants to make sure that either he or I is here with you at all times until you’re feeling more secure in yourself.”

You sink back into the cushions and let that sink in; it feels incredibly insulting and somehow very sweet at the same time. You don’t like it at all, but you can appreciate it.

“Both of you are dicks,” you say with a smile and Steve barks out a laugh. “The whole point is that I’m trying to do this on my own.”

“Bucky says that asking for help is the hardest and bravest thing you can do,” Steve wraps an around your shoulders as he waxes poetic. “That sounds like something they say in some kind of anonymous meeting, but what do I know?”

“So, what you’re saying is that I should be nicer to the cyborg and ask for help more often?” You can feel Steve’s body shake as he chuckles and you laugh too.

“Sure, but maybe don’t call him a cyborg, huh?”

“Never to his face, I swear,” pulling away you look up to his face and feel all the seriousness you used to feel before you went on your own missions. “You’ll be safe, right? Come back in one piece, more or less?”

“You got it, kid.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head before telling you that he’s got to get the mission briefing together and leaves.

You wander the halls of the compound before you find James outside under that dam tree again, reading. When you open the door and give a low whistle, he looks up and over at you.

“You coming out?”

You nod and he sets the book aside and locks eyes with you. You steel yourself and walk out. You used to love to be outdoors and the fact that it is such a challenge now is so disappointing. Halfway to the tree, a breeze catches your hair that isn’t tied up and you stop in your tracks.

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you as you raise your arms and take a deep breath. You close your eyes and just let the air flow around you. This is what you’ve missed, being out in nature, feeling the breeze, listening to leaves rustle.

When you open your eyes you find James standing a few feet away from you with a concerned look on his face. You smile and that’s when you realize that you’re crying; you hadn’t realized.

“You good, darlin’?” He steps towards you and you fling your arms around his neck and laugh as he grabs onto you. When you don’t let go, he hugs you harder and lifts you off the ground to spin you around.

When he lets you go, you pull away an offer him a genuine smile.

“You look like a fairy queen with your hair all mussed from the breeze,” he gazes down at you. “You look happy right now.”

“I am happy right now.”

A moment passes between the two of you. You wonder what he would taste like and if his kiss would fill you to the bottom of the soles of your feet. His tongue slips out to moisten his lips and you sigh slightly. That seems to break the spell between you both. When you pull away from each other, there’s awkwardness but you don’t avoid each other’s gaze.

“So, Steve’s leaving for a mission,” you walk past him to sit under the tree. “Wanna have dinner in his place?”

James walks over and resumes his spot next to you and picks up the book.

“That depends, what are you making, doll?”

And just like that, you’re planning dinner outside like you used to; and grateful for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The golden trio has been gone for two months.

Emotions are running high at the compound and you’re currently locked in a battle of wills with one James “So help me if you don’t just call me Bucky” Barnes.

“I’m not cooking for you, Barnes.” You are perched on the island in the communal kitchen, arms crossed over your chest, defiance all over you face.

“Fine, doll. You don’t have to cook for me,” he’s pacing the room and stalking you like prey. “I’m saying we should go out for dinner. Somewhere out in the city. We could even get all gussied up. I bet Stark could get us in someplace real nice.”

You swing your head around to him and stare, “The city? This city? As in New York?” Beads of sweat form on your brow and you can feel your stomach roll at the just thought of stepping off the property.

“What other city do ya think I’m talkin’ about? You wanna go to Paris or London? I’m sure we could go there,” he runs a hand through his hair and pulls it up into a hasty bun. “You just have to get over yourself and walk out of that damned gate!” He points vaguely in the direction of the main gate and your spine stiffens.

He spins around to look at you, and his eyes soften. You’re sure he can see the whites of your knuckles and he can hear the quickened pace of your heart. James is in front of you in a flash and giving you his most reassuring smile.

“Hey, I’m sorry, doll,” he moves his hands to your shoulders in a move you’ve come to crave. He begins massaging the knots in your muscles and every time his thumbs pass over the sides of your neck, you lean into the warmth of his touch.

You’ve been so touch starved that these small moments he offers you are like a balm for your soul. You keep to yourself as much as possible, even when the other three are around, but to go so long without touching another person has been excruciating for you.

“I know you’re worried about them, but we know they’re fine,” he’s crooning at you and you relax so much that you uncross your arms and sag under his hands. “We got their message.”

“It’s not even that, James.” You roll your eyes as he does at his name and stare right into his eyes. “I’m just not the same and I can’t imagine leaving this place. It’s a safety net … I need to be here.”

His hands pause for the merest of seconds before he scoops you off the counter and carries you out to the common room and sits down with you on the couch.

“So, where would you like to start first?” He pulls your legs over his laps and begins rubbing your feet, “And don’t even bother giving me a sarcastic answer. All massages go away if you do.”

The look he gives you not only tells you he’s serious about taking his hands away from your socked feet but also that he understands and picked up on your need for human contact.

“Um, how about the safety net thing?” You slide down a little on the couch and grab a pillow to prop up behind your head.

“You know if you want to be considered mission-ready, all you have to do is leave,” one eyebrow is cocked as he looks at you and you chew on your lip and shrug your shoulders.

“Deep down I understand that,” you sit up on your elbows when he pulls on your pinky toe. “Ow! When you were in Wakanda and T’Challa came to you … were you ready to leave that behind? To just leave the safety of that little lakeside home you had and go back off to fight?”

He’d told you about his time in the foreign land; of his struggles to regain himself with Shuri’s help and T’Challa’s friendship and guidance. How the little lake had offered him solace and tending to the goats had given him peace.

“I fight; we fight,” he emphasizes the phrase and grabs the other foot. “It’s not just that it’s the only thing I know how to do, because it isn’t.”

“Obviously, you could make a killing as a masseuse.” You offer him a cheeky grin and then a yelp as he tickles the sole of said foot.

“It’s not just that, but that now I do it because it needs to be done and I’m pretty sure I’m doing it for the right reasons.”

Staring up at the ceiling you ponder his words and it strikes you as odd, “You’re pretty sure?”

“Can we ever really be right about any of this when people die?”

The two of you are quiet for some time after that before you finally say, “Okay, so let’s go somewhere.”

“Yeah?” There’s a hopeful, childlike giddiness in his voice and it’s spread all over his face.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not super thrilled about the idea and I might back out as soon as we reach the gate, but yes,” you pull yourself up into a sitting position and look at him. “But I want the works, Barnes.”

“Jesus, I’ll have to talk to Stark, won’t I?”

“Nope. You’ll need Pepper for this,” you grin and poke him in the chest. “Dinner and a show. Preferably a musical.”

“Wait, what?” He looks absolutely horrified. “I never said anything about going to a show.” He stands and begins pacing, “I’ll need to make sure my suit is clean and I gotta find my gloves.”

You’re smirking at him when he stops dead in his tracks and glares at you.

“Do I need to shave or,” he gulps and you swear you can see how difficult this is by the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, “Cut my hair?”

After assuring him that hair grooming would only consist of washing and brushing it, Pepper is brought in and up to speed.

The look of confusion is remarkable for someone so clever and you stifle a laugh as she asks James to explain to her one more time “just so she understands fully”.

You’re doing your best to look nonchalant on the couch when she cocks an eyebrow over his shoulder at you.

“How obnoxious should this musical be?” She already has her phone out and is tapping away.

“I think we need the full impact,” you shoot her a grin and she shakes her head and smiles.

“You’re torturing him, aren’t you?” You say nothing as James turns to look at you.

“Do I need to be here for the details?” When both you and Pepper shake your head he walks out muttering about getting his suit ready and resistance techniques.

Tickets are at Will Call and you have a reservation for 10 pm at Joe Allen’s,” Pepper sits down gracefully next you on the couch. “What are you wearing?”

The two of you had never been exceptionally close, but she had always been kind and friendly. When you shrugged she sighed and dragged you up off the couch with her as she stood.

“I don’t know why you two were discussing dinner plans at three in the afternoon, but the show starts at seven, so we don’t have time to go shopping.” She guides you into the hall, “FRIDAY? If Wanda is home, please let her know that she will have a visitor shortly who needs evening wear.”

Pepper walks with you to the elevator and smiles gently, “I’d offer you something, but you’re a bit broader in the shoulders than I am. You and Wanda are closer in size.”

“Thank you, for everything,” you squeeze her hand as the elevator dings, alerting its arrival.

“Are you ready for this?” Pepper knows about what you’ve been dealing with. Tony dealt with it too, and he’s been an invaluable source of help and guidance.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to leave here,” you step into the lift and hold open the door. “That’s why I have to do it. Plus, James is being really nice and supportive about it.”

“I’m sure that’s not the only reason he’s being so nice to you, but whatever you need to tell yourself,” she smiles as the door begins to close. “Enjoy your date!”

Wanda is a fashion diva with a dark side and she just saved your skin. You told her about Pepper’s joke and she only smiled.

Since Wanda towered a good six inches over you, most of her skirts and dresses hit you at a weird length. She was getting frustrated and you were getting discouraged when she pulled an elegant black pantsuit from the depths of her closet and held it out to you.

“The legs are too short for me, but it should work for you.” She holds it out for you and you fall in love with how soft the silk is and how daring the neckline is. It’s nothing you would have ever bought for yourself, but you immediately pull it on and step in front of the mirror.

Wanda steps behind you with her hands on her hips and lips pursed.

“It’s too much, huh?” You look down at the pencil leg that hits right at the bottom of your ankle and the deep v neck that reaches a point at your navel. You keep rolling your shoulders because the halter neck is too large, but Wanda quickly adjusts it and suddenly pert breasts are sitting pretty and the ebony color offsets your skin.

It’s slightly formfitting but you’re slender, so it looks like you’re pulling it off.

“You need heels,” Wanda says this so matter of factly that you don’t worry for one second … until she pulls out a towering pair of stilettos.

“Not on my life or yours,” your arms cross and you stare her down. She sighs and pulls out a pair of ballet flats instead. “I think I have something that will work.”

She riffles through the discarded clothes in a heap on her bed and pulls out a tuxedo jacket with a shiny silver lapel that you had been hoping you could wear.

“Leave your hair down, smoky eyes, and either a nude lip or red,” she whips her hands around and her clothes have all moved back into the closet as you stand there and stare at her.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” you smile as she laughs. “Thank you, Wanda.”

“Have fun and if you need anything, I’ll be home.” Her meaning is more than clear. She has your back and she’ll have it tonight if you need her to. You lean down and kiss her cheek before scooting out of her room and making your way down to your own.

It’s five pm and you’ve managed to shower and get yourself together without too much incident. You attribute that to being mission ready for the last several years. You’re sure you could still pack a bag in under five minutes and that makes you happy.

The show starts at seven and the plan is to have drinks at the theater beforehand. You see Happy pull up out front and stand by the car. Pepper really did think of everything.

The elevator dings and you turn around to find James “Jesus, that man looks too good to be called Bucky” Barnes step out into the hall.

He’s not at all traditional and that surprises you, but he pulls it off so well that you almost swoon. The royal blue velvet dinner jacket is pulled over a stark white shirt and long skinny tie to match the jacket. His slacks are charcoal and tight in all the right places.

His hair is up in his usual half bun and he’s trimmed down his beard to a slight five o’clock shadow. As he walks forward you notice that the man is not wearing anything between his feet and his dress shoes.

“Where the hell are your socks?” You ask as he grins and offers his arm. You take it and grin back him as he leads you outside.

“Hiya Happy,” you both greet the driver who gives you both a wide smile but says nothing as you enter the car.

“I wearing socks, doll.” James is showing you his foot as you buckle in and the car pulls away from the curb. “They’re the hip thing these days.”

The little slipper socks he’s wearing are not the hip thing, but you indulge him because you’re certain he’s about to be bored to death for the next two to three hours.

“Well, you look very handsome James,” you look up through the front windshield and let out a small gasp.

The front gate is opening and you meet Happy’s eyes in the rearview mirror as he waits to drive forward. You blindly reach out and find your hand firmly clasped in James’ metal one.

“Where are your gloves?” the murmur is quiet as it escapes your lips and you wonder if he heard you until you feel him tug your hand to get your attention.

“In my pocket,” his flick back and forth into yours. “It’s just a line, that’s all it is.” You gulp and squeeze your eyes shut and nod.

Happy pulls forward and you don’t open your eyes until you hear James ask you, “So, you sure you know how to walk in those shoes, sugar?”

Your eyes pop open and you know what he’s doing; you can’t ignore a challenge. “Natasha trained me. I can kick your ass in these heels.” You cross your legs and point one foot to show off the black strappy sandal with the stacked heel.

“Yeah, I believe that.” His eyes linger on your lips and you lick them subconsciously, “What show are we going to see anyway?”

Three hours later, you’ve watched as James cracked up as King Arthur’s servant banged coconut shells together as they ran around the stage, you both cheered on The Lady of the Lake and her Laker Girls as they turned Dennis into Sir Gallahad, and he had wrapped his arm around you at the end when you shed a few laughing tears as King Arthur married The Lady of Lake, who turned out to be Guinevere.

You get seated at a quiet table, in the back at Joe Allens and James orders a bottle of champagne.

“That was more fun than I thought it would be,” he says as the waiter leaves to retrieve the bottle and give you time to look over the menu.

After sampling the champagne and placing an order for crab cakes to start and a bacon cheeseburger for Sir, and for the lady, the lobster roll.

“So, how are you feeling?” James leans back in his chair and lifts his flute to his lips.

“I feel … fine.” You shrug your shoulders but when you lock eyes with him you only see open encouragement, so you continue. “I’ve had so much fun that I haven’t been paying attention.”

You lean across the table and look directly at him, “I mean, I’ve been paying attention. As soon as Happy dropped us off, it was like I was operation ready again.”

He leans across the table to meet you in the middle, “That’s because you were ready.”

You linger over the food and he gripes when you swipe the kosher pickle spear off his plate and take a bite. “You don’t even like pickles, Barnes!”

You stick your tongue out at him when he criticizes how you eat the lobster roll, “You aren’t supposed to pick out the meat with a fork! Eat it like a hot dog, for chrissakes!”

After you split a huge slice of apple crumb pie ala mode James moves his chair around next to yours and you both finish off the champagne as the other patrons pay their checks and slip out into the night.

“You clean up real good, doll face,” James whispers as another couple walks by and towards the door. “Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

The waiter appears with another bottle of champagne and when you both protest he says simply, “Mr. Stark sends his congratulations and has taken care of things here this evening.”

You can feel your heart constrict a little in your chest but choose instead to focus on the positive. You managed to have a lovely evening, outside of the compound, on the arm of a handsome and funny man who was currently looking at you like you were the only woman in the world.

And Tony Stark was footing the bill.

Maybe it was all the champagne and delicious food. Maybe it was how good, even after several hours, James looked in his suit. Maybe being all done up and wearing makeup did make you feel more confident like the magazines tried to tell women all over the world.

When you leaned into his side and looked up at him and he gazed down at you, you saw longing; deep and real. You reach across his chest and tug on his lapel to bring him closer and when you moisten your lips he copies your action.

Just before impact, just before what could make or break any of this; just before you have to decide later on if it was all the champagne and the atmosphere or something more, both of your phones start buzzing and blaring.

The spell is broken as you both reach for your devices.

The golden trio has returned and you each received a message from Steve.

“Thanks for the warm welcome, assholes.”

Tagged onto a picture of a pitch-black compound.

“I guess the night is over for us,” James removes his arm from around your shoulders and stand up to call Happy.

Not only is the night over, but you’re pretty sure the moment is too.

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky fic

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