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snowdxve · 4 years

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Be Cautious

Werewolf!Yancy x Reader

Warning: Light Gore, Mature Language, Fighting, Prison Life

Inspired by @the-moon-pal Werewolf Yancy

~~~~~

Mark and Y/n walk slowly through the commons of the prison, both were dressed in black and white striped jumpsuits with their heads down in shame from getting caught. Y/n took notice of the cautious looks from the other prisoners, some of the prisoners mumble among themselves some even began laughing at the two as if they knew something that the two fresh convicts didn’t. “Well, why did you choose a helicopter if you didn’t know how to fly one?” Mark snaps at Y/n, causing them to roll their eyes and avert their attention to a tall burly convict who was staring at the two as if they had just threatened to take his lunch money. Y/n could care less about their mistake, and they figured that Mark would’ve had some clue; they weren’t the only one at fault in this team.

Mark lets out a heavy sigh as he pats Y/n’s shoulder gently, “but never mind that, We gotta find a way out of here and get that beautiful treasure of ours. Now, we can either rally the prisoners or we can pander to the guards.” Mark suggests to Y/n, “So what’s it going to be?” Mark looks at Y/n impatiently.

“I suggest that you try and rally the prisoners, hotshot. Maybe you’ll get somewhere.” Y/n answers with a shrug of their shoulders. A curt smile turns up Y/n’s cheeks as they watch Mark roll his shoulders and attempt to crack his neck preparing a speech in his head.Y/n didn’t even bother watching, instead they make their way over to the other side of the room. They didn’t want to be linked to the man, in fact, they would be more than happy to get away from him. All Mark had done since their arrival at the prison was complain, and complain; it gave Y/n an agonizing headache.

Y/n leans against the brick wall and bites their thumb as they watch Mark approach the burly convict that had made eye contact them earlier. “I wonder how this is going to play out,” Y/n mumbles to themself as their e/c eyes follow Mark’s movements. The burly man stands and towers over Mark, he was practically a whole foot taller than Mark.

“So you’re going to help me and my fri-” Mark pokes the man’s chest before turning as if to point to Y/n who was nowhere to be seen. “Y/n?” Mark looks around the commons before he felt his body being thrown through the concrete wall. Y/n snickers and covers their mouth to hide their amusement before they felt a heavy hand firmly grip their shoulders.

“Youse is with him, huh?” The man’s voice makes Y/n shiver and takes a step away but his grip tightens on their shoulder, pulling them back. “Whoa, slow down. Why youse so eager to getaway? Youse and youses friend are new here, eh? Let me show you around.” The man’s grip on Y/n’s shoulder tightened a bit more. Y/n could feel the hostility around the room, making their stomach do nervous loops. They pulled roughly out of the man’s grip and brushes their shoulder off gently and looking the man up and down.

The man was a few inches taller than Mark, about 5’6 or 5’7. His coal-black hair was slicked back with who knows what, and his amber eyes were frightening which added to the look of annoyance on his face. The other prisoners were quiet, each watching the standoff between Y/n and this man. Y/n looks around at the other prisoners and frowns as they roll their shoulders.

“Why don’t you draw a picture? It’ll last longer.” They snap before turning their attention to the man who had lost his patience. He grabs the collar of Y/n shirt and backs them against the brick wall.

“Now, who do you think youse coming into my home and calling the shots?” Y/n stares down into the man’s amber eyes; instincts kick in immediately, they hook their hands on the nap of the man’s neck before drilling their knee into his stomach.

The man recoils as a loud gasp echoed throughout the room from everyone, even the guards who didn’t bother to intervene in the brewing fight. Y/n stares at their opponent as they bring their hands up and bend their knees a bit, just like their dad had taught them. The man lets out an inhuman growl, lunging at Y/n quickly. Y/n falls back doing their best to block the oncoming punches; they tried to remember how their dad had taught them. The amber-eyed man heaved a sigh as he lowers himself into a fighting position; there was an almost animal-like quality to it. It was familiar yet so foreign to Y/n; They made the first move, taking a step forward and swinging as hard as they could. They missed hopelessly with a rush of pain exploding from their cheek. Y/n repositions and adjusts to the irony taste that had filled their mouth; their dad always told them there was no such thing as fighting dirty.

As soon as the man threw the next punch, Y/n grabs his arm quickly maneuvering behind his back and pushing his elbow in harshly before pushing his chest against the brick wall. “I’ll break it, I promise.” Y/n says firmly as the man scuffs in annoyance.

“Youse bluffin’ you ain’t gon do nothi-.” Y/n pushes his elbow in more, causing the man to let out grumble to disguise his pain. They could feel the bones grinding any moment it could snap.

“I never did catch your name, so care to share?” Y/n asks as nicely as they could, but truly they wanted to rub the man’s nose into tiled floors. They waited patiently for an answer, they could feel the eyes of the prisoners burning into their back.

“Names Yancy, now officer when you going to let me go?” Yancy chuckles, but Y/n wasn’t listening. They were taking in the small details they had missed about the man. He was in the midst of changing, his ears had become more pointed and what looked like tufts of fur were growing at the tips of them. His fingernails were sharpened to a razor-sharp point. Y/n lets out a heavy sigh as they remove themselves from their thoughts.

“If I let go are you going to play nice?” Y/n questions as they loosen their grip on Yancy’s arm. Y/n glances around the room in a search for Mark but didn’t spot a trace of him.

“Alright, fine. Jus let me go.” Yancy grumbles. Y/n let go and steps back, rubbing their hands together. They touch their cheek which had started to ache from the wearing off adrenaline. Yancy turns to Y/n and puts his hand out with an eager smile on his face.

“Have you been talking? Cause if you have, I haven’t been listening.” Y/n grumbles as they walk across the room to an empty table, and plop down into one of the cold uncomfortable wooden chairs. Yancy follows suite, unfortunately, there was no stopping the morphing once it started. Yancy’s face and head have already begun morphing. “What do you want?” Y/n groans as they lay their head on the cold table in an attempt to soothe the aching.

“I heard you want to break out, I know all the ins and outs of this place. I could help you.” Yancy smirks as he puts his hand out to Y/n eagerly. Y/n stares up at Yancy with narrowed eyes; they slowly sit up and turn to Yancy whose mouth was slowly becoming more and more elongated. Yancy watches each of their movements carefully as they put their hands out and wave them slightly at Yancy.

“Hold on, hold on. You just tried to kill me and now-!” They put their left hand on their hip and point their finger at Yancy harshly, “you want to help me?” They try to keep their composure but it fails; they burst into laughter and shake their head with a bit of a sigh. “You’re just ready to get rid of me because I beat you!” They tease, pointing at Yancy before nearly falling out of their chair.

“No.” Yancy interrupts firmly. “Youse got something special out there and I know it.” Yancy pulls a small picture from his pocket and slides it across the table to Y/n. “It, uh, fell out of youse pocket when we were fighting.” Yancy rubs the back of his neck as he watches Them pick up the portrait. The portrait was of a tall man with large wood stumps for feet, a large bushy black beard, a scar on his right eye, and a pirate hat with a long feather coming off the top.

“Oh, shit. I wouldn’t have even realized! Thank you, Yancy!” They scoop the picture up and hug it but, of course, it wasn’t the real thing and therefore a big let down. Their father was a big man and a paper-thin picture was nothing compared to him. “This is my dad, Magnum. He might be a bit intimidating at first but he’s a big ole puppy! I bet he’s worried about me; he never did like Mark but he was always happy to let me go search for treasure.” They laugh a moment before turning to Yancy. “What about you?”

“Huh? This is home! I killed my mom and dad. This is all I got now.” Yancy hums in satisfaction. Y/n couldn’t imagine killing Magnum even being away from their Dad was worrying for them.

“So, you’re willing to help me escape this joint? When and at what time?” Y/n had completely forgotten about Mark; they were more focused on getting out and getting home to their dad with their treasure. They wanted Magnum to see that they were capable of doing their own hunts. They hoped that Magnum wouldn’t hear about them being locked up like this.Y/n stopped a moment watching Yancy; the transformation was completely. They smirk a bit and cross their arms over their chest. They had seen Magnum like this countless of times.

“Well what about-” Yancy’s sentence was cut short with grunts and growls before he crosses his eyes, staring down at his muzzle. His ears flattened against his head as he lets out a heavy sigh as his amber eyes land on Y/n as They laugh and turn away from Yancy who was struggling to talk with only whines and soft grumbles coming out. Y/n couldn’t stop laughing, holding their stomach before they sit up and put their pointer finger to Yancy’s wet onyx nose.

“Stop. How long have you been this? If you’ve known for a long time then you should know that you aren’t going to get anywhere.” Y/n giggles as they run their fingers through their h/c hair. “I need to get a box from the contanment area before I leave; I’m getting it for my dad. It’s important-” A red alarm blares out, making Y/n jump and lean into towards Yancy nervously. Yancy covers his ears with his paws and gives a low growl as Mr. Murderslaughter and two other officers walk into the commons.

“Can someone turn that infernal racket off?” Murdrerslaughter yells out. The alarm abruptly ends whilst Murderslaughter adjusts his suit and turns his attention to Y/n and Yancy. Yancy uncovers his ears, ducks his head as his ears droop to the side; his long bushy ash grey tail tucked between his legs as he stands. Y/n took notice of this as they turn to look at Murderslaughter, swallowing hard

“You, I don’t want no more trouble out of you! If you keep causing trouble I’ll toss you back out into the real world for the vultures to eat at you; now you wouldn’t would you? I didn’t think so.” Murderslaughter threatens. He turns to Yancy who cowers a bit more as his ears point forward to listen to Murderslaughter, “now Yancy, I’ve always seen you as a son.” Yancy attempts to defend himself but only whines escape him. “Ah, Ah, No. Don’t try to give any protest, you won’t win. Boys, take him to solitary confinement.” Yancy grumbles as the officers stand at two sides of him. Yancy snarls lifting his lips to show his row of sharp pearly white teeth as the officers reach for his arms. Yancy nips at them as he shakes himself out briskly, raising his tail and walking alongside them as they walk Yancy to his cell in confinement. Y/n, however, was put back into their cell alone. Y/n looks around the cell; It was actually quite cozy with a shaggy cornflower blue rug spread out on the floor, a little white nightstand next to the bunk bed. The color of the plush blankets matched the carpet; they were soft to the touch. The only unappealing part of the room was the stiff mattress. With nothing more to do, Y/n crawls into bed and pulls the blanket over their shoulder. They lay back calmly before they were getting sneezed on. Y/n scrunches up their face as they wipe a little bit of snotty off of their face. Right above them, peering down through the wire bed frame was Yancy’s giant furry head. How could they have missed the massive creature under the mattress? Y/n jumps up from the bed as Yancy sits up, pushing the thin mattress against the wall.

“Yancy, What the hell?!” Y/n covers their mouth a moment and looks around before letting out a sigh, “how did you manage to get out of solitary confinement?” They whisper to the massive molten grey wolf. Yancy crouches, causing his pants to rip at the knee. Y/n couldn’t help but snicker as Yancy’s fluffy ear flip back. Yancy drags one of his long claws across the ground writing: ‘I know the ins and outs of this place, just follow me.’

Y/n looks at Yancy, who gives them a thumbs up and a toothy grin, as he picks up a blindfold a moves towards them. Y/n takes a few steps back nervously with a brisk shake of their head. “No, not happening.” They weren’t comfortable with that in the least bit. Yancy grumbles and plops onto the ground, sneezing with a bit of annoyance; how was he going to get them to trust him?

“Yancy, you didn’t say anything about a blindfold. I know better than to let someone put a blindfold on me.” Y/n looks at Yancy cautiously. Yancy looks at Y/n with narrowed eyes, tossing the blindfold on to the bed as he grumbles to himself.

“Oh stop! Besides, don’t you think it’s a little too soon to break out? I mean, I just got here. They’ll probably be expecting me to try and break out. Let's wait a bit, and talk when you’re not a werewolf.” They tap Yancy on his snout, causing Yancy to wrinkle his snout and nips at their hand. Luckily, they retract their hand to avoid Yancy’s teeth. “Hey! I was messing with you! Don’t nip at me!” They protest but the sound of footsteps causes them to tense and throw blankets over Yancy.

“Get under the bed.” Y/n whispers in a panic, pushing him in a panic under the bed and sitting on the mattress heavily. Yancy growls out as he squeezes under the mattress and the concrete floor. Y/n holds their hand down below the head, “bite me.” They whisper. Yancy looks up at Y/n confused before lunging at their hand, only to nip at their hand and draw a bit of blood. Y/n curses loudly in pain, causing the officers to come running.

“What is it? What’s going on?” The officer asks as he peers through the iron bars at Y/n.

“I hurt my finger on the bed, Can I go to the infirmary? Please?” They get up from the bed, showing the officer the crimson liquid that was forming from their finger.

“Fine, but no silly business convict.” The officer unlocks the cell and steps back motioning for Y/n to walk ahead. Y/n steps out of the cell and glances back at the officer before making their way down the hall. The officer directed Y/n through the halls before stopping at the infirmary where was laid out on the bed with a large ice pack on his face. The nurse motions to chair next to the bed before grabbing a bandaid for Y/n.

“What are you here for, dear?” The nurse asks. Y/n holds their finger out to the nurse with a nervous smile before turning to Mark.

“Hey, Mark. Are you okay?” They lean over to Mark as the nurse cleans the crimson liquid from their finger which was beginning to stream down their hand.

Mark didn't give any sign that he was awake, or alive for that matter. Y/n frowns before slapping Mark’s thigh much harder than they had intended. Mark jolts up and removes the ice pack from his face, “What do you want?!” Mark glares at Y/n. Mark’s nose was a deep purple, and his eye was puffy and swollen shut, no doubt the prisoner didn’t let him off easy. Mark’s sudden movement cause Y/n to flinch and lean away from Mark, grimacing at the damage to his once handsome face.

“I just wanted to tell you that I found someone who can help us get out of here, but I just changed my mind. Maybe you deserve to be here, you narcassitic asshole..” They mutter. Y/n stands and makes their way towards the door as Mark scrambles to his feet from the cot.

“Wait, wait! Y/n! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Mark wasn’t able to finish his sentence, for Y/n sent their foot straight between Mark’s legs before storming back to their cell. They didn’t wait for the officer, they walk right into their cell and slides the door shut in anger.

“You can come out, Yancy!” They call out, pushing everything off of the night stand with a loud crash. They plop down onto the nightstand.

“Finally! What took you so long? And why did you need to go to the infirmary?!” Yancy crawls out from under the bed and brushes his hands off on his white t-shirt before looking down at his pants. “Wonderful.” He mutters. Despite being mostly human, Yancy fluffy ears and long bushy tail were still very much visible.

“I went to see Mark, I figured he’d be in the infirmary, but forget that asshole. He’s only worried about himself. I just need to get ahold of my dad. I don’t want to set off more of an alarm than I already have.” Y/n taps their foot impatiently as they look at Yancy, who was trying to look back at his tail, grabbing at it curiously.

“Hey! When’s visitations?” Y/n asks, breaking Yancy from his fascination with catching his tail.

“Oh, tomorrow. I don’t get very many visitors, so maybe I can convince murderslaughter to give you my time during visiting hours.” Yancy gives a small smile as he sits down, curling his tail around his legs.

“Well, are you going to stay in here or-” “We’re bunk mates. I know, I was surpised too. Believe me.” Yancy shrugs and yawns. “Get some rest, you’re going to need it.” Yancy throws at blanket at Y/n before he climbs onto the top bunk.

“Goodnight Yancy.” Y/n calls up to the wolf as they lay back on the mattress, pulling the blanket over their shoulder.

“Goodnight Y/n.”

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

“C’mon Yancy! He wants to meet you!” Y/n motions for Yancy to follow them as they walk to a table where a tall bearded man sat slouched. The strong scent of sea salt causes Yancy to wrinkle his nose as he sits across from the massive man. Yancy slouches in the chair looking up at the bearded man then at Y/n.

“Dad, I know you’re mad-” “Where be that Mark? I say we go keelhauling with him.” The bearded man growls out, gritting his teeth before turning his attention to Yancy. “And who be this? Is this your friend? What’s your name?”

“Yancy, I’ve got to say you taught Y/n well. They are quite strong.” Yancy chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Magnum, Pleasure to meet ye.” Magnum gave a big smile but it quickly fades into a menacing look. “Yes, Y/n learns everything from the crew and their old dad, but you didn’t hurt my dear child, did ye? Cause then we have a problem friend; you might be the next one going overboard.” Magnum’s hickory brown eyes slowly dilate as he stares down at Yancy. Yancy fidgets a bit, looking at Y/n for some sort of help.

“No, Dad, it was a simple disagreement. I lost my temper and I popped him in the nose; the officers interevened before things could get any worse, okay? Besides, I can handle him and if Yancy were still mad at me, he wouldn’t be here.” Y/n assures Magnum who merely nods in acknowledgement. “He’s gunna get me out of here soon, just keep in touch.” They whisper as they grab their Dad’s hand tightly.

“Visitations over! Wrap it up!” An officer shouts from a corner of the room.Y/n stands and gathers Magnum in a tight hug before taking a step back. Magnum put his hand out to Yancy with a smile. Yancy firmly shakes his hand but as soon as Yancy pulls away, Magnum yanks him forward. “Watch their back, or you’ll regret it friend.” Magnum growls out in a low husky tone. Yancy nods quickly and joins Y/n on their travel back to their cells.

“So what do think of him? He’s awesome, isn't he?” Y/n says cheerfully as they skip happily towards the cell, swinging their hands.

“Yeah, Yeah. Totally.” Yancy gulps as he walks casually behind Y/n.

“Next time, be careful with your words. Be cautious.” Y/n snickers as they step into the cell.

#a heist with markiplier yancy #markiplier #a heist with markiplier #a heist with markiplier captain magnum #captain magnum #werewolf!yancy #prison life for me #errxrfics

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dontstarve-maxwil-imeanmaxwell · 4 years

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Chapter 4

(Wigfrid notices something amiss and Winona agrees, but Wolfgang be the big trusting teadybear he is :3c kind long )

“That is an unusual sight!” Wigfrid stated quite loudly, but Winona just hummed and continued tinkering with the gears from a bishop and a rook they took down earlier that day, already used to her outburst, “What is?” “Where Wilsön and Maxwell always that clöse??” This caught Winona's attention immediately, whipping her head up she saw Maxwell and Wilson talking while walking up to Wilsons work tent, even pulling up the flap and letting him enter first. What. Winona looked at Wigfrid and shared a look of ‘ Did we seriously just see that’, “Maxwell isn’t known to be kind unless he wants something….” Wigfrid nodded her head in agreement, “ I don’t trust it either, but it dösen’t löök like they were arguing?” Winona shook her head” Well whatever it is, I am sure Wilson can handle it, he dealt with him before”

“Who dealt with who before?”

Winona and Wigfrid looked over to see Wolfgang, Winona speaked up” We were just talking about how Wilson and Maxwell have seem to gotten closer the past few days”, The burly man put on a thinking gesture with his hand brushing his mustache, “ Tiny man talk to Tall man quite much, I saw them doing chores together, unusual indeed” He still had an accent but his english was better nowadays due to Wickerbottom helping him out, she somehow knew a bit of Russian, she always seemed to know almost everything. “ No need worry of little man, he is strong in mind, and in body, Ms. Wickerbottom said no worry, he is not to harm tiny man, he is friend”, and with that he walked off to put down the logs he was carrying next to Wickerbottom who was busy weaving. “Odd” Winona stated, but if Wickerbottom was ok with it, then she would be ok, if not a bit wary, she was fond of WIlson and didn’t want him to get hurt in any way. Wigfrid had thought it over “ Wickerböttöm can be as wise as Ödin at times, I trust her, but let's keep an eye ön him at least '' They both nodded and got back to work on tearing up the mechanical beasts for parts.

Maxwell and Wilson were in the tent looking over the sketches of the guitar Wilson was doing “ No- that doesn't look right, you have to put the strings into a wooden block at the bottom, and the proportions are a bit wrong on the strings, each one is a different thickness”, Wilson nodded looking at the sketches and added notes to the side of the paper, “ Oh! I was thinking that the steel wool we can get from the Ewecus can be unravelled and straightened into the strings!” Maxwell hummed in agreement, this.. Was oddly nice, Maxwell had thought to himself, watching as Wilson was talking about ways to put things together and whatnot. Really it was endearing watching this in person rather than from the throne, he really liked to watch Wilson survive, it was quite funny, he had to comment on everything, and get into everything, he had really felt sorry for Wilson to take over the throne but he was too selfish, ‘better him than me’, was the last thought he had before he turned to dust, only to be brought right back to him. He would have believed it was fate, but in a place like this, there wasn’t really any mistake, after all the slap fight they had when they first saw each other outside of the throne room probably gave the shadows something to laugh about-”Um Maxwell, did you hear my other suggestion?” Maxwell a bit startled, straightened up, forgetting there was a lantern hanging just above his head,Thunk! He sucked in a breath between teeth in a low hiss as he pushed the lantern out of the way, glaring as if it personally offended him (which it did I might add) he heard loud boyish laughter and looked down to see Wilson practically dying in his laughter “HahHAHhahah!O-*giggles*-Oh my god, hah!’ Maxwell grumbled, “Find something funny PAL?” Maxwell basically hissed at the shorter man, who was still laughing hard, flushed and eyes pricked with tears,”I-HAhah-I am so-sorry but that, t-that was too funny” Maxwell then sneered,” Ha ha ha, laugh it up now, but you realize I have seen many more embarrassing things from you on the throne, what about that incident with the honey? ripped out a few hairs didn’t it?” That shut Wilson up real quick, he gaped like a fish up at Maxwell, red as the salmon in the salt ponds” Y-you!-good heavens you saw THAT!?” Wilson buried his face in his hands,” T-that was one time...and it was an a-accident!” Maxwell smirked,” Honey isn’t the substitute for lube here pal, there are better options” Wilson looked positively mortified, then curious in a second, what did Maxwell mean by-” ‘better options’? What does that mean?

“Exactly what it means Higgsbury, would you like a few tips?” Wilson looked at him skeptically, up then down, then up again,” How old are you?” ...Ow, Maxwell thought, Well to be fair he did look.. A bit old, he was around 50 when he came to this world, and that certainly wasn’t that old (It certainly was),” I am 50 Higsbury, not 100, despite how many years go by, we will never age here”, Higgsbury considered this for a moment, then turned back to his work shaking his head,” Alright Maxy, but don’t think I will forget about your little incident, so what would wood should we use?”Maxwell was taken aback by how the man was switching topics so quickly that he couldn’t keep up at times, maybe it was some form of ADHD? He shook his head. It was better than going back to the topic of his age,” Hm I was thinking of Birchwood? It is softer and easier to bend and carve” Taking his place behind Higgsbury, not seeing the little smirk Wilson had,”Softer and easier to bend huh?”Maxwell scowled,” I do hope you are talking about the wood Higgsbury ”,Wilson let out another laugh at Maxwell's expense, and it is to say that evening was filled with large amounts of arguing and laughing alike.

#music and biology #maxwil #wilson #maxwell #dst

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rwbyremnants · 4 years

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NOTE: The word “Negro” is only used for historical accuracy in this chapter, as it was the most polite/inoffensive term in the 1950s. As a POC myself I think history should not be erased. I'm a strong supporter of BLM, and if you wanna debate that you can just take it right off this fic; I'm gonna delete super politically-charged comments (especially if you're a racist lol, you might get reported)

=Chapter 17

Pyrrha showed up just in time for the cake, as it turned out, since it had to chill before it was ready to be served. In the interim, they had all chatted and played a game of poker, which only proved that Kali had even more talents than previously were visible. Luckily, they were only playing for starlight mints instead of real money.

As anyone could have predicted, Kali took an immediate liking to Weiss's childhood friend. She did tease her once - asked if she wanted a little “extra sugar” with her slice of cassata, leaning in a little too close - but when Pyrrha flushed and pulled away, she left her unmolested for the rest of the night. Pyrrha clearly appreciated that consideration.

The two drove back home with full bellies and high spirits, Weiss even moreso due to dinner before the dessert; Pyrrha was just filled with cake and milk. They took the long way home, both to throw anyone who might be trying to follow them off the scent, and to enjoy the evening for a few seconds more.

“I never thought I would say this, but… I really do like your new friends.”

“Yeah?” Weiss couldn't help the huge grin that broke out across her face. “They like you, too. Though I am sorry they can't seem to stop flirting.”

“I already told you, I don't mind. Even Cinder, as long as she doesn’t go too far. They are simply expressing desires that come very natural to them. Maybe they don't to me, but I'm starting to realize that they aren't as ‘unnatural’ as the church would have us believe.”

The church had scarcely occurred to her. The Schnee family weren't much for religion at all, since her father considered himself “an educated man”, as he was quick to inform anyone who broached the subject. “Yeah. Maybe not.”

“And…” After taking a deep breath, she continued, “I think I can handle the flirting, as long as you don't join in.”

“What?! But I would never-”

“I know, but you probably thought you would never date a woman at all,” she went on stubbornly, despite how uncomfortable she looked to be discussing this. “I'm not trying to say that you were thinking about doing it; just… expressing my gratitude that I know you understand. That if they ever start going too far, you'll always be there to step in and stop them.”

Weiss nodded as she absorbed that. Maybe it wasn't quite fair for Pyrrha to assume that she would ever change her behavior that drastically, but she could also understand the mindset looking from the outside-in. All the more reason for her to keep an eye on the other Dragons; as often as Yang reassured her that they wouldn't really have forced her into anything she didn't want, they were still extremely pushy.

Before she could respond, she noticed her friend leaning in to squint over the steering wheel. “What… what is that? Up there.”

Two men seemed to be standing in the middle of the street. At first, Weiss was only concerned that they were trying to get themselves run over - or just being a general nuisance. Then she recognized one of them by his bristly white mustache and groaned.

“Great. What is this fresh pleasure?”

“We're about to find out,” Pyrrha sighed as she pulled over to the curb. Weiss had already shucked her leather jacket and was in the process of stuffing it under her seat. “Do you remember our alibi for today?”

“The diner? Or… wait, we were going for a Sunday drive.”

“But it's Friday.”

“You know what I mean!” Without waiting for her to answer, she exited the car.

The two fathers were waiting for them. This close, Weiss could indeed tell that the other man was Mr. Nikos; she hadn't been able to tell from further away. His red hair was thinning on top, but otherwise he was quite the good-looking fellow; a burly ex-Olympian who was definitely the driving force behind Pyrrha’s career in track and field.

“Hello, Father,” Weiss said shortly.

“Where exactly have you two been keeping yourselves?” he asked without preamble.

“Out driving. We had a nice meal and decided to enjoy the fresh air before it gets too cold to-”

His overly loud sigh interrupted Weiss's words. “Spare me the double talk. I've already confirmed that neither of you have been to the diner all day today. Now, would you like to amend your story?”

“It's true,” Pyrrha added, her voice a lot stronger than expected. Weiss was furious that he was checking up on her, but she would handle that later. “We found a quaint little place by accident, had our supper there. Since it isn't a school night, we thought it would be fun to splurge and try something new.”

“Mmhmmm. And what sort of new things did you try?”

Something about the way her father had phrased that made Weiss uncomfortable. She couldn't put her finger on why right away, but it made her hesitant to answer.

“Shall we share our hypothesis with the class? Very well then.” Barely glancing at Mr. Nikos, he began to pace back and forth, still in the middle of the street. “Already, we've caught you hanging around that uncouth girl. The one you've been warned against spending time with. Or don't you recall that?”

Throat dry, Weiss managed to rasp, “Of course.” This was it. They were about to be defeated, and everything was going to get so much worse.

“I've heard from Whitley that you spend a lot of time with a strange group of girls. Granted, you haven't spent any time with them since our little talk, but it is something you've been guilty of in the past. And now, you are spending a little too much time with Miss Nikos.”

“Well, it's not that I mind so much as all that,” the other parent said in a more mild tone than Weiss's father.

“Shush.” Weiss wanted to run up to him and kick him in the shin for talking to her friend's father that way, but she resisted for the time being. “You can see how this looks to us. It would look that way to anyone. So I hope you aren't terribly offended when I suggest that you spend a little less time together from now on.”

Of course, she knew exactly what he meant. Still, she had a good defense prepared for just such an accusation. It had originally been about Yang, but the sentiment worked just as well for Pyrrha.

First, she would start with feigning ignorance. “No, Father, I can't see how it looks to you. What's wrong with having a good chum and spending my free time with her?”

“As I said,” he went on patiently - though a muscle tick had appeared in his jaw. “It's not your chosen company, who is at least an improvement over that other hooligan. It's the amount of time. This is far more than any two gal pals would entertain each other's company.”

“Is it? I mean, how do you know? Have you spent a lot of time as a gal with pals?”

His face darkened. “Weiss Schnee, you will not sass me in this manner.”

“I'm not sassing you! I'm merely trying to point out that you've never been a teenaged girl. You can hardly be expected to understand our sisterhood.”

“Fine,” he growled. “But it doesn't matter. I have put my foot down and I expect you to obey me. Understand?”

“Please, Mr. Schnee,” Pyrrha began in a humble voice. “I really don't understand. What do you think will happen if we spend too much time together? Is it her homework? I always do mine - we do it together!”

“That is not the concern.”

“Then what is? If I know what the problem is, I can try to rectify it! B-but I don't want to lose my friendship with your daughter purely because… because of a reason you won't even tell me!”

Those were real tears sliding down her best friend's cheeks. In the back of her head, Weiss was thinking it was Pyrrha who deserved to be in ‘Our Town’ .

“He means that you're behaving a little too… familiar with each other,” Mr. Nikos provided, looking quite ill at the prospect.

“What does that mean? How can we be too familiar? Doesn't the Good Book say to love our neighbor as ourself? I'm only trying to be a good friend and a good Christian to my neighbor.”

That seemed to finally do it. Though her own father looked relieved, Weiss was still squinting at them suspiciously. But there didn't seem to be anything more he could accuse them of without simply shouting more unfounded nonsense. So he sighed and shook his head, gesturing for Weiss to go inside.

“Sorry about this,” Weiss whispered to Pyrrha, just loud enough for everyone to hear. Then she hugged her very briefly, very chaste, and they shared an awkward smile before parting ways.

As the Studebaker was moved into the garage, her father joined her on their way up to the front door. “Don't you think for a second this is over. You may have fooled those Greeks with your Trojan Horse lies, but you won't fool me.”

“And don't think your pretend concern fools anyone,” she told him in a dangerous tone of her own. “You only care that you can't control me as well as you wish.”

“Don't speak to me in that-”

“What have I really done wrong? Snuck out once, just to check in on my friend? And I know,” she interrupted before he could interrupt. “You don't approve of Yang. She really isn't as awful as you think, but I've respected your wishes, and haven't brought her around anymore. And now you're suspecting my best friend, a girl so sweet she could be in an Ovaltine commercial, of being a bad influence? Where does it end? Am I just not allowed to have any friends at all?”

“Not the type of friends that you are engaging with lately. You've already demonstrated delinquent behavior, so why should I believe you when you state that you are giving it up simply because I've asked you to? Delinquents already misbehave, and you have done nothing to prove that you've reformed entirely.”

Weiss wanted so badly to shout at him. She wanted to kick him, or to tell him everything that was really going on and watch him be completely shocked. But she knew that Salem was counting on her to remain in his good graces - and despite not trusting her, she already trusted her more than she trusted her own father, tragic as that may be.

“I'm trying my best, Father. And I'm not doing anything wrong, I haven't hurt anyone - I'm keeping my grades up and spending leisure time with Pyrrha. And whatever kind of negative influence you seem to think she is, I promise you that she isn't. Can't you tell that just by talking to her?”

The man considered for a moment, still glaring down at her as they came to a stop in the living room. “I thought I could tell that by talking to you. Apparently, I was mistaken. But fine, pretend that all is well and you aren't about to disgrace our family name. You'll either prove that you were right, or you'll prove me right. Eventually.”

As the man headed to his seat by the fire, Weiss stomped upstairs. If she never saw him again, it would still be too soon.

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

Saturday was largely boring for Weiss. Hoping to appease her unreasonable parent, she spent most of her time practicing her singing lessons, and going over schoolwork to make sure it was ready for Monday morning. Her mother was present for breakfast, and she tried to engage her in conversation, but as usual the woman was already mentally divorced from everything around her. And with the male members of her family being so intolerable, she decided to avoid them altogether whenever possible.

But Sunday, she received a shock in the early afternoon. When Pyrrha came over, she felt vague surprise; she had expected her to keep her distance for a little while after essentially being accused of “deviant behaviour” without it being openly stated.

“I had to come right away,” she whispered once they were alone in Weiss’s room.

“Why?” She pressed a paper napkin into her hands. “What’s this?”

Squirming for a brief moment, Pyrrha breathed, “Did you know that… th-that Mrs. Belladonna works at that Italian restaurant downtown?”

“No, I didn’t,” she confessed. Privately, she thought it was an entirely fitting occupation for the woman.

“She does. I had to try very hard to keep a straight face when she came out to ask my family if we were having a nice meal. Then she said I ‘dropped my napkin’, though I still had mine in my lap. She stooped to pick it up, and…”

Weiss was afraid that Pyrrha was about to confess that Kali had made stronger overtures toward her friend. “And?”

“A-and it was like a magic trick! Her hands moved so smoothly, no one besides me could tell she took the napkin from my lap, pulled one from her apron pocket, and presented that to me as if it were the one I dropped! Really, I wouldn’t be surprised if she did shows in Las Vegas or something!”

“Oh,” she sighed in sheer relief. “Alright, well that’s… strange, but nothing worth flipping your lid over. Though I might have to ask if she has any card tricks.”

“No, no - it’s not that. Read it.”

“Read what?”

“The napkin,” she said impatiently, unfolding it for her…

And revealing a hastily-scribbled note. Suddenly, Weiss had realised that this wasn’t just a strange story that didn’t affect her. It was the beginning of something larger.

‘ Parlay went south. Rumble tonight - old factory, 5pm. Sorry but S needs you there. Love you sweetie.’

The fact that Kali had taken the time to tack on the last sentence did touch Weiss, even if it was easily eclipsed by the rest of the message. Reading between the lines, she had a feeling the real shape of the matter was that Salem didn’t need her in particular, but that all Dragons were supposed to be in attendance, or their loyalties would be called into question.

“What is a ‘rumble’?” Pyrrha was whispering softly. “D-do you think- should I stay, just to make sure everything’s alright?”

“No! I mean…” Reading through the note again and committing the details to memory, she wadded it up in her hand. “No, Pyrrha. Thank you, but you aren’t one of us. I don’t want you in danger, too.”

“But I want to help!”

Her heart breaking, she hugged her tightly. “Absolutely not. I already feel bad enough for dragging you into this as much as I have, so… so if you got hurt because of me, I would never forgive myself. I hate to ask you to help me at all, so just… please, drive me over to the Belladonna’s an hour earlier, then go straight home. Do you understand?”

“No, I don’t, but… I trust you. Even if I wish I could do more.” They patted each other on the back. “I wish I weren’t the bearer of bad news.”

“It’s alright. Excuse me, I need to use the little girls’ room.”

As she watched the torn-up napkin swirl and rocket down the hole in the bottom of the toilet bowl, Weiss felt like she might be ill. But there was no sense in worrying herself sick now. There would be plenty of time for that when she got to the site of the rumble.

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

“Thank you for coming,” Kali sighed as they followed Blake to the factory. Weiss had already struggled into her leather jacket, and had dressed in blue jeans and a darker blouse in the hopes it would make her look less like a square. “I know this can’t have been an appealing way to spend your evening.”

“It wasn’t. Does Salem really expect me to be able to do anything? I’ve never so much as punched anyone in my life!”

With a long sigh, she pulled up behind Blake’s hog along the curb. This was an out-of-the-way location that they felt would be a safer place for the car; Blake would ferry the other two women to the actual rumble site one at a time. The trip had already taken twice as long, due to having to ensure they weren’t followed, so now they were trying to make haste.

“I understand. But if you don’t show, Salem will assume being a Dragon isn’t important to you. And if it isn’t important, it isn’t anything worth protecting.”

“That’s what I thought,” she grumbled.

“Just hang back,” she whispered, shaking a little with nerves. “The rest of us are a little more practiced at this kind of thing. We… might get a little bloodied up, but it’s very rare for anyone to die. Small town like Vale, rumours circulate pretty fast, and none of us want undue attention.”

“So no guns?”

“No guns. Probably a few baseball bats, but mostly fists and wits.”

“They don’t feel like louts for hitting girls?” When Kali laughed, she frowned as they got out of the car. “What’s so funny? I can’t believe they would actually hit us!”

“They know we could cut them down if given the chance. And since very few of us would consider dating them, it’s easy for them to not even consider us women anymore.”

That didn’t seem quite right to Weiss. They were still women, regardless of whom they dated. However, Kali was already hopping onto the motorcycle behind her daughter, so then she had no one to voice her displeasure to. No sense talking to the wind.

After a few minutes, Blake returned, idling for a moment. Weiss moved to get on but she turned around and said, “Wait.”

“What is it? I don’t want to be late and upset anyb-”

“I want you to know something.” After a few quick breaths, to prepare herself to speak, she said, “Yang is going to be trying really hard to protect you out there. And I’ll be trying to protect Yang. So just… don’t worry about doing your part, or helping either of us. Just protect yourself. By doing that, you’ll be shielding Yang as best you can with what you’ve got. That’s… that’s all I had to say.”

“Alright.” Then she hopped onto the bike behind Blake, sliding her arms around her middle. “But Blake?”

“What?”

“I know you won’t care, but I really hope we all make it out of this okay. That means you, too.”

She could just barely see the ghost of a smile flicker across her lips. “Really? If I didn’t, I would be out of your way.”

“You aren’t in my way in the first place. Aren’t we friends? Or did that whole conversation mean nothing?”

“No, no, it did. And we are. I’m sorry.” One of her hands lowered just enough to pat the back of Weiss’s hand before she took off from the curb.

When they got to the factory, the two different factions were clearly visible from far away - simply by the length of the hair of one side. Getting closer to the fenced-in parking lot, it was easier to tell differences besides that. Weiss was still pretty far away from the other side of the parking lot where the Huntsmen were gathered, but she thought she recognised the blue-haired boy from her first visit to Junior’s.

“You decided to grace us with your presence,” Salem said mildly. It struck Weiss that she still wore the heavy cloak, all but completely obscuring her face and arms. “Punctual. And admirable, for a new Dragon. Young Ilia has not arrived yet.”

Ignoring her wildly fluctuating pulse, Weiss gave a slight curtsy. Her healing brand seemed to tinge merely from Salem’s close proximity. “Well, m-maybe she got held up in traffic?”

“Are you making excuses for her?”

“No, High Dragon.”

“Good.” Turning back to the other women, she said, “The hour draws near. We have… five minutes before our warlord will approach theirs and dictate the terms of the rumble. Settle business if business is to be settled. If we can’t reach an amicable agreement, the rumble commences in ten minutes.”

It was at that point Yang stepped forward, cracking her neck. Weiss noticed she was ignoring her; keeping her focus on the matter at hand. It hurt a little, but she tried not to take it personally. “I’m ready.”

“Is the Duchess ready to attend the final parlay with the warlord?”

“Yes, High Dragon,” said Kali with a brief bow. That shocked Weiss thoroughly; she had a feeling before now that Kali was a relatively unimportant member, only tasked with cooking for them. Was she really some kind of lieutenant?

“Then all is set. I will repair to the shade. Cinder, if you please?”

The serious-faced girl bowed to her. Once she turned her back to approach the corner of the parking lot, she did flash Yang and Kali an inscrutable look, but that was all the hesitation she indulged in before following her master.

“I almost wished you didn’t make it,” Yang sighed in a shaky voice. “But… it would probably be worse if you didn’t.”

“I’m glad I got the message! Have you guys known about this and you didn’t tell me?”

Glancing over at the men at the other end of the lot, Kali answered, “It happened late last night. Salem met with their president in a one-on-one meeting that most of us thought was a bad idea. We were right; she insulted him and he insulted her back, and they left unhappy.”

“Wasn’t pretty,” put in a Dragon that Weiss didn’t know, other than by sight from Shopkeeper’s. She was an older Negro woman with a soft afro and multiple gold earrings, though the red bindi in the middle of her forehead suggested she might also be Indian. Her uncertainty made the sheltered girl wish she’d had more contact with other cultures in her short life. “I wasn’t supposed to do anything other than drive her to and from the meeting, but I had to fight off one of Watts’s boys to keep him from getting to the High Dragon.”

“I should have been there,” Yang growled under her breath. “This is my job, isn’t it?”

“Only if asked, honey,” Kali soothed her. “Don’t worry, Sienna had it under control. That’s what she’s there for: to step in if the High Dragon can’t fulfill her duties.”

“That’s your job,” Sienna countered with a slight smirk. Which Kali returned. “Isn’t it, Duchess?”

“My job is to feed hungry, growing girls.”

“I’ll bet you like them hungry,” she accused with a slight chuckle as she turned away from the conversation, and Kali only rolled her eyes before moving off to check on Blake.

That left Weiss with her girlfriend. While it was nice to be able to see her during the weekend, since she had expected to be waiting until Monday, these were less than ideal circumstances.

“Hey.”

“Shut up,” Weiss whispered as she wrapped her in her arms. Even though she still felt a thrill of dread every time she did that with her in public, she knew this was one of the few places where it was safe. Where though there might be a few jeers or catcalls, they were in good humour.

“God, I miss you when you’re not around,” Yang sighed into her hair, hands tightening against the back of her jacket. “Sweet little Schnee.”

“You don’t know I’m sweet yet. But I know you’re tangy.”

A little laugh blasted out of her as she pushed her back, grinning wide. “And I used to think you were a princess. The mouth on you!” They both giggled. “Oh… okay, so. I never got around to sparring with you, and now that feels like a big mistake. Really wish I taught you a few moves.”

“Blake already warned me,” she hurried to assure her. “I’ll keep my head down and try to defend myself, stay out of everyone’s way. But isn’t there some way we can… I don’t know, not fight?”

“Afraid not, by this point. They’re all really set on kicking each other’s teeth in. Salem and old Watts don’t care, since they’re both jerks and they’re not even gonna be in the rumble themselves. So this is the only way they can decide once and for all who gets Junior’s.”

“That’s what this is over? Junior’s? I thought that was neutral territory.”

“Yeah! When we’ve all been fine with sharing it before! I thought the talks were going fine, and then just… I don’t know, they really get under each other’s skin so easy.”

Weiss leaned her head against Yang’s chest, listening to her rapid breathing. “This all seems ridiculous. They’re acting like children.” When Yang didn’t answer right away, she whispered, “Can you try? For me? Just ask if there’s any other alternative to fighting. If they still say ‘no’, then… well, I guess we’ll resort to fisticuffs.”

“You sound like you’re from the turn of the century,” she laughed, petting over Weiss’s hair. “But… yeah. I mean, I kinda wanna bash their stupid faces in, but I also don’t want you in danger. So I’ll ask.”

“Thanks,” she breathed, before leaning up on tiptoes to kiss Yang’s cheek. “Love you.”

This time, there was a chorus of “oooooooh” from a few of the younger Dragons, and also from a couple of young Huntsmen with sharper eyes. Weiss stuck out her tongue at them and they laughed. Then she was distracted by a small figure jogging up to them from the corner.

“Sorry!” Ilia gasped out weakly, bracing against her knees while she caught her breath. Her hair was in wild disarray, and she was sweating quite a bit. “I couldn’t… find my jacket, my… and then the bus wouldn’t… pick me up while I was wearing it, so I had to… hitch…”

“Whoa, breathe,” Yang told her, patting her on the shoulder. “You should have got in contact with one of us. This is cutting it way too close.”

“Salem knows you weren’t here before,” Weiss warned her. “I think you might want to be ready to apologise.”

Ilia looked stricken. “Oh… oh n-no, I didn’t… is… Blake upset?”

Even though it was difficult, Weiss didn’t roll her eyes. Yang exercised no such concern. “Pal, you need to cool off with that. Blake doesn’t care.”

“Yet,” Weiss added, hoping it would soften the blow. “And you’re certainly not going to help yourself by chasing after her this desperately.”

At least her face was already flushed from running, so she had a ready excuse for the redness in her cheeks. “Oh… I… oh.”

“But hey, maybe you’ll impress her out there,” Yang put in, having figured out Weiss was trying to cheer her up and attempting to do the same. “Knock ‘em dead.”

“Not ‘dead’!” Weiss squeaked.

“Oh, right- uh… knock ‘em… alive?”

Ilia sighed, still wiping sweat off her forehead. “She doesn’t know I’m alive now, so it doesn’t matter if someone knocks me dead or if I do it to them. But… thanks, girls.” Then she paced off to lean against a telephone pole, slight chest still heaving.

“That’s gonna be a problem,” Yang grunted.

“What?” Weiss glanced between the two of them. “Ilia? She’s actually kind of sweet, in a… small puppy kind of way…”

“Not that. With Blake. She’s never been interested in her, and didn’t think she had what it takes to be a Dragon. And still doesn’t. I kind of agree, but I also don’t really have her chasing me around, so it doesn’t matter to me much either way. She got initiated so she’s one of us; that’s how I see it.”

“That sounds right to me, too. Do you think it's just that Blake isn’t interested in her making her act so dismissive of her?”

Yang shrugged. Then after a heartbeat, she added, “You like her, don’t ya?”

“I do. Like I said, she’s sweet, and I think a genuinely good person under all that hero worship.”

“Hmm.”

But that was all the chance they had to chat about it. The minute she saw a burly man walking toward the middle of the lot, Yang gestured to Kali, and they both began to walk forward together. Weiss couldn’t see their equivalent of a “Duchess” walking with the big man, but he could have been in his shadow very easily and he would be practically invisible.

“I hate this part,” Blake confessed as she and Coco walked over.

“What?”

“The waiting. Not knowing what they’re saying, and just… hoping it goes alright. And I hate seeing my mom out there.”

“I know,” Weiss said with an eyeroll. “You don’t like having to watch her hang out with us.”

“What?” Blake seemed genuinely surprised by that comment. “No, it’s not that. I just… she’s in danger out there. Both she and Yang are, but Yang’s tough; a brawler. Mom can scrap pretty well, but she’s not a tank the way the Dragon is.”

A thrill of dread shot up her spine. “Are you… saying that they might be in danger right now?” When Blake nodded, she took a step forward, but Coco instinctively threw up an arm to stop her.

“Calm down, Schnee. It’s fine.”

“But you just said-”

“We’re all in danger,” Blake went on for her as Coco lowered her arm. “Just by being here. The cops could bust this up and we’d all be cooling our heels in the slammer for weeks.”

Only then did the true danger begin to press in on Weiss. All the baseball bats, lead pipes, car antennae and bicycle chains were enough to ensure there would be blood. If the police showed up, they would probably have no qualms about shooting into the fray to break up the fight. They always seemed to be carefree with human life when it came to people they deemed as "thugs". She had been focusing so much on her duty to the Dragons, and to Yang, that she had suppressed all deeper worries about how terrible this rumble could be - partly thanks to the assurances that there were rarely fatalities. But “rarely” wasn’t the same thing as “never”. Had she stood idly by while Yang walked to her death?

Apparently not. After a few more gestures - some from Kali that were a bit more irate than Weiss would have expected - Yang and the man stepped back enough to let Kali cup her hands around her mouth and announce, “The warlords have reached a compromise!”

There were a few outcries, and a “What?!” from Cinder.

“There will be no rumble tonight! Instead, we’re going for pinks! There will be a brief recess of ten minutes to choose jockeys!”

That didn’t quite have the effect Weiss had been expecting, which was “relief”. Instead, there was a lot of muttering and worried glances, groups breaking into smaller clusters to mutter amongst themselves.

“What’s the matter?” Weiss whispered to Blake, whose face was a mask of misery.

“Racing for pinks. If we lose, their winner gets their bike. But… it’s worse than that.” Glancing over there and back to Weiss, she went on in a hushed tone, “The street race will be out in Mountain Glenn. Somebody might not make it home.”

#princess and the dragons #freezerburn fanfic #freezerburn #rwby fanfiction #rwbyremnants

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girlanachronsim · 4 years

Text

Assassins

Pairing: Victor Zsasz x Ofc

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, attempted rape/non-con.

Word count: 9,056

Read it on AO3 instead!

Summary: Zsasz shows up for a hit, only to find that someone beat him to it.

Zsasz shouldered his way up the staircase, lugging a heavy duffel bag, his eyes focused on the door above him. When he opened it a blast of cool air struck him.

He was standing on the roof of a building in order to fulfil his latest contract, which is why he startled back when he saw someone was already set up in the exact place that he had planned to take the shot. He was so dumbstruck he merely stood there, his eyes wide and shoulders tense. They hadn’t noticed him yet, so he allowed himself to study the person in his place.

It was a young woman, barely eighteen leaning against a sniper, her hair pulled back into a strict, scraggly ponytail. Her clothes were grey and practical and she seemed to be taking this very seriously despite the fact that she was so young and had probably never done this before.

He couldn’t very well just turn back so he chewed on his lower lip before clearing his throat.

She flinched, her head jerking back and she fixed him with an icy stare. Her eyes slowly travelled up and down his body, taking in his dark clothing and the suspicious duffel bag.

“Cop?” She asked shortly.

He shook his head.

She nodded and turned back to her rifle. He tipped his head in confusion. He’d never come across someone who wasn’t scared of him at first sight, let alone someone who refused to let up his spot.

“This is my job.” He spoke flatly, letting his bag fall to the floor with a thud.

She barely flinched, only looked away from her sight to fix him with another glare.

“And it appears to be mine.”

“Let up, little girl.” He patronised her, his fingers twitching over his gun. Another two tally marks in one day. But she was being too interesting for him to kill her just yet.

“In your dreams, pal.”

Her bluntness was beginning to amuse him.

“So what do you suggest we do?” He asked her, the barest smirk playing on his lips.

“I take the job, we both get the credit.” She answered, a very mature and well-thought out answer for the bizarre situation.

“Why don’t I take the job instead?” He suggested.

“I got here first, you can’t deny that.” She answered firmly.

“I have more chance of-”

“I know what I’m doing, mister.” She interrupted him, detecting the arrogant nature of his tone that suggested he was better than her.

“Alright.” He shrugged. “Seeing as I’m supposed to be working, do you mind if I stick around?”

She turned around, inspecting his expression before nodding her head towards the small wall running along the length of the roof. He twitched his sleeves, approaching it before sliding down the wall, resting his head against it in a bored manner. His long legs sprawled in front of him and he rested a hand casually on his knee.

“What’s your name then?” He asked.

“You’re distracting me.” She spoke sharply.

His jaw clenched in anger as he stared at the ground, fingers twitching again. She shifted uncomfortably in front of her rifle, her head turning back towards him.

“How long have I got?” She asked.

He looked to his watch lazily.

“Twenty minutes.”

“Perhaps I have a little time for conversation.” She rocked back, stretching her legs out but kept her head angled over the roof. “I suppose you’re not allowed to say who you’re working for?”

“No.” He answered shortly in a way that said she should have known the answer immediately. “It’s a political shot. Anyone in Gotham could have hired us.”

“True.” She nodded her head. “Been in the game long?”

He twitched his sleeve further down, thinking about the tallies marring the length of his arm.

“Fairly long. You?”

“Few years.” She shrugged.

“You must have started young.” He commented, staring at her evenly.

He seemed determined that she was a child and he wasn’t going to see her in any other way. Her eyebrows knitted together angrily and she tensed her shoulders.

“You must have too.” She spoke, her voice tight.

“I suppose.”

A hush fell over the crowd below them and she immediately focused all of her attention over the side of the building. Her jaw clenched and she readied her sniper, finger hovering over the trigger.

He sat up a little, trying to watch the scene below while simultaneously watching her and her technique. For the first time since meeting her he had the inkling that she might actually be competent, what with the furtive sharpness in her eyes and even hands handling the weapon. He watched the barrel follow her target until it reached the perfect position. She checked her sight twice, steadying the gun before sharply pulling the trigger.

The moment she took the shot she dragged herself and her gun out of sight and immediately started packing up. He stood upright, eyeing her up before casually leaning over the side of the building to watch the chaos ensuing below, not caring about her precaution to not be seen. He was impressed to see the politician dead on the floor, security guards dressed in black swarming them as people screamed and clamoured to get away.

“You can handle yourself.” He said over his shoulder.

“Please. Do you really think I wouldn’t back down from the infamous Victor Zsasz if I didn’t know what I was doing?” She spoke firmly, shoving various bits of equipment into her duffel bag.

He tensed, staring at her back with wide eyes. He thought she had no idea who he was or he would be been sure that she’d back down without a second thought. She finished packing her bag and as she turned towards him he hurriedly composed his features, nodding at her sharply. They both shouldered their duffel bags, making their way down the stairwell while listening to the chaos still ensuing on the ground. They shared a glance before she silently shoved open the door to the lower level and they both went their separate ways, intent on seeming inconspicuous among the crowds of horrified citizens and silently wondering about the other.

Zsasz only had one club that he actually enjoyed going to. Nearly all of the clubs in Gotham were owned by one side or the other and whenever he visited them he had to worry about work or politics or a culmination of the two. This was an independent place and somewhere he could actually relax without having to think about who to be cordial towards or pretend to hate when he didn’t.

He had a drink and was idly sitting at the bar when someone walked in and caught his eye. She had fierce makeup and form-fitting clothes, her hair in loose curls arranged simply around her shoulders. She looked older than before, more in her twenties now rather than late teens but there was no doubt about it; it was the girl from before.

Astonished at the strange coincidence and enraptured at her changed appearance, he simply stared at her. He noticed the large man next to her, chatting loudly with his friends and hand clinging to her waist in the most invasive way possible. The large man was dark haired and tanned, presumably part of the mob from the amount of rings on his fingers and burly men surrounding him.

Zsasz continued his drink but couldn’t stop glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Eventually, he watched her excuse herself from her group, kissing the grotesque man before sashaying up to the bar, right next to Zsasz.

“I saw you staring.” She spoke under her breath to him after ordering her table’s drinks at the bar.

He kept his gaze fixed on his drink but his mouth twisted into a smirk.

“You look different.” He spoke to his drink. He didn’t want to be seen talking to her; If her partner really was part of the mob, the last thing he wanted was to be seen talking to his girl. That would involve unnecessary deaths and drama.

“You look exactly the same.” She remarked, picking up two of the drinks, taking them back to her table before sidling up beside him again.

“What’s the deal with your partner?” He asked her, rings tapping against his glass.

“Boyfriend.” She answered shortly.

“So you’re whoring yourself out too?”

“He hasn’t paid me. Yet.” Her lips twisted into a smirk as she picked up the remaining glasses.

Then she left his side again and went back to her table, the obnoxious man sitting her beside him roughly while she smiled pleasantly. Zsasz watched her out of the corner of his eye, musing on her situation.

He knew he should have left hours ago, but he found he couldn’t leave her next to that repulsive man. He continued watching, observing as the man got more and more drunk and rowdy. The table finally stood up and as they were leaving Zsasz watched him being far too physical with her, grabbing her arm and shoving her away from him while she glanced around furtively, ensuring that no-one got involved or interfered.

Zsasz watched them leave, his stomach twisting as he stared into his empty drink glass. He mulled over his options, chewing his lip as he tapped the counter before he abruptly stood up, sloping towards the exit.

He stepped out of the warmth of the club, staring up and down the alley. He hesitated on whether to go further down the alley or head towards the road. Then he heard a sick slapping sound, skin on skin followed by a thud and loud voices started coming towards him. He hurried backwards into the alcove of the exit of the club, hiding from sight as the voices passed him and he could see that they belonged to the repulsive man and his cronies. She wasn’t with them though.

As soon as they were out of sight, he stalked down the alley, squinting in the semi-darkness until he came across her, sprawled ungracefully on the ground.

“You okay?” He asked distantly, tipping his head.

“Fuck.” She expressed sharply, her face still buried in the pavement.

She made an attempt to get up, hissing and wincing but aggressively pushing away any help Zsasz tried to give her. On wobbling ankles she finally made it upright, the right side of her face bloodied and gashed, goose bumps rising on her bare arms and legs that were also covered in tiny cuts and bruises. She tried to step but her face screwed up and she shook her head.

“Fuck.” She repeated. “I think I’ve twisted my ankle.”

She gestured for Zsasz to come towards her, which he did, and she used his shoulder to steady herself while she unlaced herself from her shoes. She hooked her fingers through her shoe straps and started walking towards the road, trying to ignore the amount of pain she was in with every step. He merely stared after her, watching her struggle before he lurched forward and started walking beside her down the alley.

“I’m assuming it’s over between you two now.” Zsasz said presumptuously.

Her face broke into a smile that dropped immediately when it pulled at the broken skin of her lip.

“Oh no.” She stared dead ahead, her gaze distant. “He’ll come crawling back tomorrow, begging for forgiveness, which I’ll give. It’s not much longer now.”

They were nearing the road as she said that ominous statement. Zsasz was silenced again, curiosity piqued as he watched her hail a cab using the hand holding her shoes. One pulled up almost immediately and she yanked open the door, glancing at Zsasz before slipping inside.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She said, bringing up yet more questions before slamming the door, the cab screeching away within a few seconds.

Zsasz stood on the pavement staring after the cab until it disappeared from sight. Then he shoved his hands in his pockets, lifting his head to the sky before meandering away, thinking about how the girl and her odd situation.

Zsasz returned to the same club the next day, hoping that that’s what she meant. He ordered a drink, surreptitiously staring at the door. His foresight was rewarded as she saw the girl come in through the double doors, all dressed up but without her date. He noticed she was still hobbling but was trying to hide it as best she could and when she sat beside him he saw she still had the wounds on her face. She had tried to cover it up with makeup but it still showed where the skin had broken and she winced every time she tried to smile.

He reached out to touch her cheek but she pushed him away, staring at the bar as she sat.

“Have you recovered?”

“What do you think?” She glared at him evenly before ordering her own drink.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He teased her in is usual unamused voice.

“He doesn’t know where I go. I don’t have to be with him all the time.” She responded quickly.

He noted her not answering the question but decided not to bring it up.

“I’m guessing you’re not here for work.”

“No.” She smirked, taking her drink from the barmaid. “I’m surprised you came back.”

“I was hoping you’d be here.” Zsasz spoke surprisingly earnestly. She didn’t seem to know how to respond as she idly sipped her drink, glancing around the room furtively.

“You worried your boyfriend will catch you?”

“No.” She snapped, suddenly focusing all of her attention back on him.

“What are you getting off of him?” He leaned in conspiratorially, curiosity driving him to ask the question.

“You want me to explain my work to you?” She pulled back in her chair, her eyes wide and challenging.

“Yes.” He said shortly, matching her stance whilst daring her to speak.

“Okay.” She set her drink down and looped her arm over the back of her chair. “He’s writing me into his will next week. Then a few days after he just might not wake up.”

“Will? Bit old fashioned.” Zsasz commented and she rolled her eyes.

“But it works. There’s so much shit happening in Gotham, no-one cares about a will or a mobster death.” She shrugged. “I’ve done it twice before. That time I met you on the rooftop, that was the first commission I’d had in months.”

“Why’s that?” Zsasz asked, her talent not matching up to her workload.

“People want assassins like you. Menacing, broody men who wear black and have a gun on them at all times. The only time I get commissions is when I can be more inconspicuous than you.” She gave him a pointed look. “So, I have to make a little extra on the side.”

“That’s shit.” He rolled his nearly-empty glass between his palms.

“I know.”

She drank from her glass again, staring around the club, curiously this time instead of searching for someone.

“When your boyfriend’s gone, will you be free?” He asked out of the blue and she turned sharply towards him.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love, dear?” She gripped his arm playfully.

“No. But I like to think I have a chance.” He muttered, not succumbing to her teasing as he shrugged her off.

“I’m afraid I only have relations with a man if they pay me.” She stated softly, bringing her hand off of him gently.

“I’d have to pay to kiss you?” He turned towards her and she nodded decisively.

“So you do whore yourself out?” He said in a low, disappointed tone.

She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone, checking the time before throwing back the last of her drink.

“Occasionally. But I only do it if the man in question is particularly… charming.” She stood, tracing her hand over his chest as she did so. His tongue darted over his bottom lip suggestively as he inhaled and exhaled heavily.

“I’d better go. I said I’d meet him somewhere.” She said, pre-emptively answering a question he didn’t ask.

She slipped a scrap of paper towards him with a number scrawled across it. He picked it up and held it between his fingers, glancing up at her, amused.

“Do I have to pay to call this number?” He grinned, slipping it into his pocket anyway.

“Not to call me, no.”

She smirked, picking up her bag then making her way towards the door, looking at him before pushing her way outside.

Zsasz was the one who called her, bored with waiting in the middle of a commission. He twisted in the expensive office chair of his future victim, the ringing phone pressed to his ear, his chest tightening as she picked up.

“Hello?” Her lilting voice came through the receiver as she obviously didn’t know who was calling.

He couldn’t help but smile at her voice and left her hanging for so long she repeated herself.

“Hello.” He greeted her eventually.

“Zsasz.” She recognised his voice immediately. “I was wondering when you’d call.”

“What are you up to?” He questioned her.

“Obviously at home, or I wouldn’t have said your name out loud.” She said in a bored tone. “And you?”

“Waiting on a case.” He responded. “I want to see you again.”

“How much are you going to pay me?”

“Are you going to keep bringing that up?” He asked her.

“Won’t let you forget it.” He could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

“Fine. I’ll pay you if you really want. When are you free?”

“You know, I just got freed up this afternoon.” She said light-heartedly.

Someone walked through the door on Zsasz’s side and she heard a gunshot and a heavy thud before Zsasz got back on the phone.

“So did I.” He added.

“Where should I meet you?”

He listed the name of an obscure street and said his goodbyes before hanging up.

Zsasz was propped up against the side of a crumbling grey building, staring at the road with his jaw set. A taxi pulled up on the desolate road and she swung her legs out, tottering onto the pavement. She had made an effort again, her hair carefully set and makeup covering the healing wounds still marring her cheek.

She looked at the decrepit buildings in disgust as she headed towards him.

“You’ve brought me to a demolition site?” She said, her lips upturned. “You’d better be paying me for this, the cab driver didn’t even know where we were going, we went in circles until he accidentally turned off the right road. You should have seen how long the meter was running when we-”

“Come on.” Zsasz interrupted her, pushing himself off the wall and heading behind the building.

She stared back at the empty road then followed after him, but only after huffing loudly. She stumbled on the uneven pavement, swearing as it jarred her ankle but somehow she managed to keep up with him and followed him through a small, dirty door in the side of one of the crumbling buildings. It led to a small room lit with strobe lighting where a few tables and chairs were scattered across the dirty floor.

“Why on earth have you taken me here?”

He didn’t respond, he merely meandered over to one of the chairs, screeching it back on the cement floor before sitting down, placing his hands flat on the table in front of him.

“And how many women have seen this place?” She asked idly, trying to see whether she could view more of the building through the only other door in the room, but there was only darkness.

“Relax. I only bring women back here if they’re particularly charming.”

She looked to him, a grin playing on her lips as he used her own phrase against her. She approached him, pulling up the chair opposite him and sitting herself across the table from him.

“What do you want me to do and how much are you going to pay me?” She enquired.

“Really? You’re going to insist I pay you?” He asked, his voice low and unamused.

“At least pay the taxi fee. And, I mean, I could be working right now.” She added, shrugging her shoulders.

“Right. Since you’re so desperate.” He reached into his inner pocket, counting out notes before sliding them across the table towards her.

She picked the notes up and counted them out herself, arching her eyebrow as she slipped the money into her own pocket.

“You have me for several hours. To do with as you wish.” She extended her hands welcomingly.

A mad look entered his eyes and he reached under the table to take out his handgun. He placed it on the table gently, watching her reaction evenly. She looked immediately uncomfortable at the presence of the weapon. She was expecting something kinky in such a grotty place away from people, but she wasn’t willing to play with firearms.

“I don’t do fucked up shit.” She expressed quickly, pointing at the gun.

“That’s not what I’m after.” He enunciated clearly, pointing at the gun. “One bullet.”

Her eyes suddenly lit up with the same crazy look that Zsasz had, all of the fear and uncertainty gone in a second.

“Are you proposing a game of Russian Roulette?” She arched her eyebrow.

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

He picked up the gun himself, playing with it in his hands before levelling it at her head.

“I’ll go first.” He said spontaneously, pulling the trigger.

She flinched terribly but there was only the clicking of the gun echoing through the room, no explosion. Her face was stormy as she snatched the gun off of him, pointing it at his head this time.

“Ask a girl before you go to shoot her.” She spoke pointedly before sharply pulling the trigger. Again, no explosion.

She handed the gun over reluctantly, dropping it into his palm and he pointed it at her forehead.

“How many chambers are in this?” She asked before he shot.

He pulled the trigger, the mechanism clicking harmlessly, then he handed the gun back to her.

“Six.” He responded shortly.

She pointed the gun at his head, pulling the trigger yet again and handed it back to him. Every time they swapped it became more like a game, the likelihood of either of them being shot getting higher and higher until they had clicked through five barrels and she was pointing the gun at Zsasz’s head. They both knew that the bullet had to be in this chamber. The tension in the room was palpable as she lifted the gun to his forehead, willing her hands to be as steady as his were when she was pointing a live firearm that close to someone’s head.

They locked eyes, her heart rate elevating as her finger tightened around the trigger. She’d be the last thing he’d ever see.

But he had initiated the game and pride would never let her back down so, after inhaling deeply through her nostrils, she pulled the trigger. She expected his head to snap back, blood exploding from the bullet wound in his forehead and she’d have to leave alone and even more empty than she was before.

What happened, however, was quite the opposite. She pulled the trigger and the chamber clicked but no bullet shot out. Mixed emotions crossed her face and she slowly lowered the gun, still staring at Zsasz.

“You take your Russian Roulette very seriously.” Zsasz was the first to speak, rocking back in his chair.

She opened the chamber of the gun, seeing that there were six barrels but no bullets loaded whatsoever.

“And you obviously don’t.” She snapped, throwing the gun onto the table with a clatter.

“You would’ve shot me.” Zsasz commented, arching his eyebrow.

He wasn’t betraying any emotion and she couldn’t tell whether he was impressed with her or disappointed that she’d be willing to kill him, just like that.

“You’re the one who wanted to play.” She pouted, angling her body away from him.

“You seem annoyed. Did you want me to die?” Zsasz questioned her, something related to innocence playing in his eyes.

“No.” She shifted uncomfortably, inspecting the grimy surface of the table. “You shouldn't have lied to me.”

“But then it wouldn’t have been a game.” He retorted.

“So you brought me to some dump to play a fake game of Russian Roulette?” She spoke indignantly, rising to her feet.

He merely watched, he didn’t rise with her and he didn’t make any objection.

“Is there anything else you want?” She asked him pointedly, her hand on the door handle.

“I did pay for your time.”

She sighed in exasperation.

“Yes, you did. So what do you want?” She let her hand fall off the handle as she turned back towards him.

“Come here.” He uttered softly, lifting a single hand from the table to beckon her towards him with a finger.

She hesitated before approaching him and he expectantly pulled his chair back, the legs screeching across the floor, exposing his lower body as he did so. She stood by his side, lingering awkwardly until he gestured at his lap, inviting her onto it. She stared at him in disbelief, her eyes wide and unblinking as she looked between his face and his lap.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He said clearly.

She could feel his money weighing her pocket down and she felt obligated to do as he said, just as she did with all her other clients. But the clients she usually had she patronized and pampered and gushed over. She couldn’t very well do that to Zsasz, so she wasn’t quite sure where she stood.

She lowered herself onto his lap, angling herself as far away from his crotch as she could, using her new height to look down on him in a seductive manner. If he was going to pay her, there were worse men she could be stuck with.

He impulsively grabbed her waist and pulled her closer while she flinched, then immediately relaxed as if reminding herself of her purpose. He looked up at her, eyes narrowing as he tried to assess her reaction.

“Would you call me charming?” He asked abruptly.

She let out a short burst of laughter, looking to the ceiling as she grinned.

“That’s the absolute last thing I’d call you.” She could feel his hands slipping from her waist but she stopped him, holding her own hands over them and placing them back on her waist. “But I’d kiss you.”

“I thought you only kissed charming people.”

“Some men have more than just charm.” She muttered, curling her fingers into his waistcoat.

She brought her face obscenely close to his, so close that they were sharing the same heady air. She was fully aware that she was going to kiss him of her own volition now, he hadn’t asked her, but somehow she was okay with that as their lips collided in a swift motion. He kissed her back eagerly, his hands lifting from her waist to the back of her neck, lifting towards her in his chair so their chests pressed together.

Their mouths parted, the kiss becoming infused with passion and her hands traveled down his chest to start to work on the buttons of his waistcoat. He stilled her hands, lowering them onto her own lap as he parted from her lips.

She looked to him, breathing heavily with confusion marring her features.

“No.” He dictated.

“But I thought-” She started but he cut her off with a firm hand motion, urging her to stand. She did so and he followed her so they were facing off one another, his fist clenching at his side while she looked puzzled and vaguely hurt.

"Fine. Then I'll go."

He merely stared at her, but didn't object as she moved towards the door again. Her hand lingered on the handle, waiting for him, but as he didn't say anything she sighed and pushed through the door.

The next day, Zsasz watched her come through the door of the club. He had been waiting since eight only for her to waltz in at eleven when the place was practically empty. She slid into the seat beside him, ordering a drink from the tired barmaid, tipping it back before Zsasz could even glance at her.

"What happened yesterday?" She asked him tightly.

He gritted his teeth and stared at the bar.

"I thought you wanted... me. You paid me. You made me believe..."

She trailed off, angrily tapping the now-empty glass with her long nails.

"Zsasz, I've never met a man who's known my profession and not freaked out about it. And then you come in, and treat me like shit, just like all the other men I have to deal with!" Her voice was becoming shrill and she seemed very close to throwing the damned glass at the wall just to watch it shatter.

"Do you always get this angry about sex?" Zsasz asked dully, not affected by her rising temper.

She laughed harshly, then glared at him with her lips pursed.

"It's not just sex." She spat, crossing her arms. "I won't expect you to understand."

He had been almost silent throughout this entire encounter, but she only noticed this while she wasn't speaking herself. She glanced between him and the bar furtively, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, her temper rose again.

"Oh, and here. I don't want this any more." She slid the notes he gave her yesterday across the bar. "Seeing as we didn't do anything."

He stiffly reached out, picked up the notes and put them into his jacket pocket.

"Why don't you want me?" Her anger was subsiding and on the last few words her voice cracked.

He winced, glaring at the bar with his jaw firmly set. He was seriously considering just getting up and leaving, but she had been weighing heavily on his mind and he felt she deserved at least the barest of explanations.

"I can't get tangled up with women like you." He said softly, his eyes lowered and staring at the bar.

"Women like me?" She repeated in disbelief. "What are you trying to insinuate?!"

He shifted on his stool, his features looking as close to uncomfortable as they possibly could. His lips pursed and he hesitated before giving her a pointed look, making an effort to look into her eyes.

"Women who I find attractive." He muttered, this voice barely loud enough to be heard over the murmur of the rest of the room.

Her stomach tightened and her hand clenched unconsciously around her empty glass. Despite the work that she was in and the amount of years she'd been doing it, she felt her face flushing. As her cheeks heated, she was even more embarrassed at the fact that she we blushing and her face flushed even more. She didn't know why Zsasz giving her a compliment was affecting her more than the tens of other men that had said far more crude and complimentary things in the past few weeks.

She broke her gaze from his and he let a smile creep at the corners of his mouth. He hadn't lied, and her playing coy now wasn't doing anything to help his effort to avoid her.

"For the record, I fucking hate you." She mumbled before tugging at the collar of his shirt. "Come with me."

She couldn't see the smirk on his lips as he lifted himself off his own barstool and trailed after her short, angry footsteps. He noticed her wearing ridiculously high heels again, her limp hardly noticeable so he assumed that she had healed up nicely, even if she hadn't got rid of that bastard of a 'boyfriend'.

They went out into the parking lot and she got into her car, beckoning him to get in too. He examined the surroundings before getting in beside her, his long legs folding into the front seat. She pulled out of the car park and started driving. He tried to guess where they were going from just their surroundings, but as things grew more and more foreign to him he was driven to ask.

"Where are we going?" He asked, trying to sound disinterested.

"We're going to my place."

She pulled up in front of a decent set of flats and parked the car. They both got out and she buzzed her way in, him following after her through the hallway and into the lift. They endured the ride up in tense silence, until they got to her floor and she got out her keys to open the door to her flat.

Zsasz was pleasantly surprised by her surroundings. From the jobs she held and the company she kept she could easily have lived like a cheap whore. But her apartment was light and airy, the white walls and minimalist decorating more of an illusion of wealth rather than the real deal, but it was still pleasant.

"Why'd you bring me here?" He asked as she threw her keys onto the counter.

"To show you that you don't have to get 'entangled' with someone like me." She said bitingly over her shoulder.

The living area opened up into a kitchen which she meandered into, opening up a cupboard to pull down two wine glasses which she set on the counter. She pulled out a bottle and held it out to Zsasz as if she were an overpaid waitress trying to sell the client the most expensive wine on offer. He shrugged and she uncorked the bottle, pouring out two glasses which she picked up and set down in the living room.

She gestured at him to sit and he did so, his dark suit making him look like an oil slick on the white surface of the sofa. She sat beside him, kicking off her heels and tucking her feet under herself. She nursed her glass in her hands, taking a sip before turning to Zsasz.

"Aren't you drinking?" She asked him teasingly.

"Is that your plan?" He asked, giving her a sideways glance. "Getting me drunk enough to sleep with you?"

Despite his disapproving tone, he still picked up his glass and drank.

"If I were to trick you, I'd be far more clever about it." She assured him.

They sat, staring at an abstract painting which hung opposite the sofa. He noticed that there was only one door leading off from the living room. That must be her bedroom.

"So what's this about getting 'entangled'?" She raised her eyebrow at him and he hazarded a look at her.

He debated responding, but the wide-eyed, questioning look she was giving drove him to answer.

"It's dangerous for me to fall in love." He said through gritted teeth. "Any weakness someone could hold over me. It's not safe."

"You think I don't know the dangers of this work?" She said sullenly into her glass.

He had to remind himself that she was an assassin too, when she was out of the dress and the heels and the makeup. She was the same as him.

"But you don't have to worry about falling for me."

"Oh no?" He asked, wrapping his arm around the back of the sofa.

"No. You already know what I feel for you." She said, miming a gun at his head with her fingers.

"Yes, yes." He batted her hand away.

"Come on then." She shuffled closer to him, her shoulder now nestled under the crook of his arm.

He looked down at her, sadness playing in his eyes before he sighed ever so softly. He took his glass along with hers and set them down onto the table before sitting back again, even closer to her than before. His eyes softened and he reached forward to gently touch her cheek.

With lightning reflexes her hand was at his neck and the blade in her palm glinted in the light. He leaned away from the blade, his shoulders rolling back and his neck elongating. But with reflexes of his own, he grabbed the knife from her hand and had it flush against the exposed skin of her neck. She grinned madly, even as he lifted the knife from her neck and flicked it across the room.

"Where do you keep that one?" He asked slyly.

"A lady never says where she keeps her secret weapon." She winked and he grabbed her chin impulsively.

Her heart pounded with anticipation as they leaned in towards each other, their lips almost touching when there was an abrupt knock on the door. Both of them froze, heads snapping towards the door. They stayed as silent as possible, muscles tensed as they tried to distinguish whether the knock came from her apartment or not. Then the sound of keys in the lock.

"I gave him a key." She spoke in a rushed undertone.

"What?" He muttered.

"Bedroom." She said shortly as the key twisted in the lock.

He didn't need to be told twice, he was up in a shot, his long legs striding across the apartment. He just managed to slip behind her bedroom door as the front door opened behind him.

The room was exactly what he expected it to be. It was a bedroom with a walk-in wardrobe off on one side and another door on the other side. He could hear voices coming from the living room and risked a peek into the other door. It was a bathroom.

He weighed up his hiding spaces. It was far less likely for either of them to randomly walk into the wardrobe, but as he peered inside there was barely enough room to fit his entire body. Their voices rose and he made a rushed decision, opening the wardrobe door wider so he could crawl inside, his legs scrunched in front of him and he had to attempt to close the door twice in order for it to shut properly.

Meanwhile, she lay back on the couch in a relaxed manner as her 'boyfriend', the man with all the rings and abusive tendencies, rounded the corner. He grinned, grabbing her hand, pulling her upwards in order to kiss her. She giggled, putting on her coy persona with the new man in her presence.

"You weren't busy, were you?" He asked presumptuously, looking around her apartment.

"No." She smiled, then noticed his eyes fix on the two wine glasses on her table and her smile faltered.

"Who else do you have in here?" He asked, his voice teasing but she could sense the sharp edge hidden underneath the sweet tone.

"I was expecting you." She raised her eyebrow at him as she picked up the second glass, hoping he fell for it.

He hesitated before smiling himself, taking the glass from her hand. He didn't notice the marks on the side of the glass indicating that it had already been drunk from, much to her relief.

"How very prepared of you." He commented, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her down onto the sofa with him.

He alternated between kissing her and consuming alcohol. His hands were wandering and his kisses were heated; she knew this mood he was in and needed to get out of it, quickly. She couldn't have sex with him while Zsasz was in her apartment. She couldn't even consider it.

"You picked a really bad time, darling. I have to go out now." She lied, attempting to get up from his lap.

She had to hope that he'd leave with her. And if he didn't, then she trusted Zsasz could look after himself, maybe stay quiet enough until he decided to leave. But he didn't even let her get that far.

"C'mon, surely you have five minutes." He pulled her back down and she struggled.

"I have to meet with someone." She said through a fake smile, inwardly panicking at how tightly his arm was wrapping around her waist.

"No you don't."

There was something infinitely more threatening about the normality of his voice than if he actually had shouted at her. His calm tone was beginning to scare her, a feat not easily accomplished, and as he stood up with that vice-like grip still around her waist she reached for her knife. Her heart froze as she realized it wasn't hidden in her waistband any more, then remembered that Zsasz had thrown it across the room after she'd held it to his neck. Her eyes frantically searched the floor as he began to drag her towards the bedroom, but she couldn't see it anywhere.

She closed her eyes as they passed into her bedroom, not wanting to face the reality of an assassin crouching in the corner of her room. But when the man hanging onto her didn't exclaim as he walked into the room, she opened her eyes only to find it empty. That meant that he was either in her bathroom, wardrobe or out of the window. Seeing as she was on the fifth floor, the last option was unlikely, but she wouldn't put it past Zsasz. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was in the wardrobe thanks to the fabric of one of her dresses spilling across the floor under the wardrobe door.

He watched them through the slats in the wardrobe door. It gave him a poor view, but even he could see her struggling to look under control as her boyfriend dragged her into the room and threw her onto the bed. Her head snapped back and she bounced slightly as she landed on the soft covers of her duvet. She tried to get up again but he put his heavy hands on her shoulders, shoving her back down as he crawled on top of her.

Zsasz looked back into the darkness of the wardrobe, her clothes brushing his cheek as he attempted to comprehend the situation he was in. It all felt like something from a bad sitcom; he couldn't feel more perverted than staring at her through a wardrobe with another man in top of her. His hand clenched into a fist at his side and he could feel his confusion manifesting itself as anger. Had she done this on purpose? Orchestrated it all just to see whether he got jealous, or to see how he'd respond in this sort of situation? He resolved to wait until she gave him a sign.

She could feel Zsasz's stare boring into her side as the man kissed her neck. She could feel herself blushing, but it wasn't from the heated kisses, instead it was embarrassment from feeling so powerless. She hadn't felt so helpless in a long time, and of course it had to be in front of a man she wanted to impress.

"Get the fuck off of me." She muttered in a harsh undertone, only loud enough for the man on top of her to hear.

He smiled in response, a scary, hard-edged smile as he started to unbutton her blouse, his fingers not working fast enough on the last few buttons so he ended up ripping them off, some of them falling to the floor and rolling under the furniture. Her bra exposed, it was only now she was feeling violated. Sure, she had been manhandled before, but never sexually. She'd kill a man before he even had the time to think about it.

With his hands on her shirt and only his thighs pinning her down, she attempted a swipe at his head, but he caught her fist in the air. She was good, but he was just as good, if not better. He truly had the best of her. She slumped back on the bed, defeated, when there was the sound of an explosion and the man pinning her down jerked once before collapsing on top of her, lifeless.

The loud sound made her heart drop in her chest and it took her a couple of moments for her brain to catch up with what happened. When it finally did, she shoved the limp man off of her and abruptly sat up. She looked over to see Zsasz standing with a gun pointing at her, the tip smoking and the wardrobe door standing ajar. She looked back at the catatonic man, only just noticing the hole in his head and the crimson blood stain blooming across her white sheets.

"I had it under control." She said through gritted teeth, standing up slowly.

Zsasz holstered the gun inside his jacket, silent and using slow movements as if he didn't want to startle her. She could feel anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach, though whether from embarrassment or genuine anger she couldn't tell.

"He hadn't even signed the papers yet." She snarled, eyes flashing. "All of that fucking preening, pampering, all for nothing! The amount of times I let him touch me. Do you even know-"

Zsasz stalked forward, cutting her off with a harsh kiss. Their lips brushed together and she startled backwards, her eyes wide. The kiss was chaste and when Zsasz pulled back she wound up and slapped him harshly across the cheek.

The sick sound of flesh on flesh rang through the room and they stared at one another, fire in his eyes and her breathing harsh. His face smarted from the blow and her hand tingled from the contact. Then in one fluid movement their lips were on one another's, her fingers driving into his suit and his hands pawing at her hips.

He steadily pushed his weight against her until she started backing up, her back slamming into the wall, exerting his dominance. She had to retaliate in some way, her hands pushing at his jacket until it fell onto the floor with a soft thud. He growled, his hands creeping under the shirt that the vile man had already torn off of her. She responded with relish, her shaking hands pulling at his waistcoat buttons until that, too, was on the floor. She barely had time to consider the irony of fucking in a room with a dead man.

It was only when she started unbuttoning his shirt that he stilled her hands, his lips leaving hers for the barest of moments.

"What's the matter?" She asked, their noses brushing together.

She attempted to pull at the buttons again, and he let her, after the slightest hesitation. She pushed his shirt back to reveal his alabaster skin, the pale expanse of chest starkly contrasting the neat and even rows of tally marks etched onto his skin starting to encroach on his collar-bone, the rest of them disappearing into his sleeve. She suddenly understood his hesitation.

"Hey, we all have scars." She spoke softly.

She shrugged off what remained of her shirt to reveal her torso pitted and marred with thin white lines, some deeper than others.

"Where'd you get yours?" He asked, his eyes not leaving her newly exposed skin.

"Not telling. Yours?"

He shook his head.

"Then we're even."

He shrugged, his hands exploring her torso and wrapping around her back, his long fingers making quick work of her bra. She let her breath escape along with her bra as he dragged it off her body, throwing it onto the floor uselessly. He took her breasts in his hands, her heart racing and her mind fogging as her whole upper body clenched in anticipation. He tweaked one of her nipples and she gasped reflexively before giggling.

While his hands were otherwise occupied, she worked at his belt, then unzipped his fly so she could palm his semi-erect member through his boxers. A throaty growl came from the back of his throat and he removed his hands, instead choosing to tear her skirt off.

In the brief few seconds she had before his hands were on her again she managed to pull his shirt off, revealing the remainder of the tally marks scarring the length of both arms. She marvelled at them, her hands running over the tiny bumps marring his skin, the feeling of fresh pain coursing through her. There was no doubt he had done this to himself. And there was something incredibly sexy about that.

He pulled out one of the knives secreted in his waistband and held it between them, both if their eyes fixed on the small blade. He ran it down between her breasts, along her stomach, her muscles contracting beneath the sharp object. He let it linger at the waistband of her underwear before sliding it under and in two sharp flicks it was nothing but a scrap of fabric on the floor.

She stood there, gasping and completely naked as he appraised her figure. His eyes were wide and mad, but somehow she felt safer with him than any other man she'd been with.

He wrapped the arm holding the blade around her, kissing her harshly before jabbing it into her lower back. Her hips jerked reflexively into him and he smirked while she gave him a look of indignation, attempting to push back at him. But he kept her pinned between him and the wall, his body an immovable barrier in her attempt to gain some element of control.

He kissed her again, one hand pushing roughly at her shoulder while the other worked to free his cock. He positioned himself at her entrance and she writhed against the wall, her face flushing with excitement. He made firm eye contact with her before he abruptly thrust into her and her mouth fell open, emitting nothing other than a choked gasp.

He moved inside her and she felt almost dizzy, euphoric as he started to thrust. She could see stars and she gripped his shoulders so tightly that some of the newer scars split beneath her fingernails, blood oozing around them, the pain only turning him further.

He kept the blade against her back as he fucked her, a constant reminder of the balance, where she stood in this encounter. Every now and then she'd forget and the knife would drive into her back, making her give a little pained gasp which he would smother with a kiss. She lifted a leg and hooked it around his thrusting hips, giving him easier access and encouraging his motions.

She could tell he was close to the edge as he got more vocal, giving in to his deep groans and grunts which gave her goose bumps on the back of her neck. She bit her lip, tightening around him, which only made him thrust harder, driving her closer to the edge.

He dropped the knife to the floor and pinned her wrists to the wall, their bodies flush as he gave way to his orgasm. Feeling the broad man twitch and buck against her pushed her over the edge and she came too, her vision blurring and muscles weakening as she orgasmed.

He was the only thing keeping her up as her body slumped, his hands still on her wrists and face buried in her neck, his breathing harsh against her ear. He eventually let her go, turning from her and doing his trousers back up while she struggled to keep upright, her breaths still short and her knees trembling.

She slumped towards the bed and lay across the foot of it, avoiding the dead man and the damp blood stain surrounding him. She looked over to Zsasz who had put his shirt back on, but the scars she had split on his shoulders were spotting the white fabric with blood.

"Sorry about that." She smirked as he turned towards her.

He responded by leaning over and kissing her with the same passion he had during sex, his hand snaking under her back and pulling her up slightly. When he let her go, he lifted his hand to her face. His fingertips were smeared with blood.

"Don't apologize until you've seen yourself." He warned her before sucking the blood off his fingers idly.

It was only after she'd seen the evidence that her back started to twinge with pain and she sat up to stop the friction from the bed sheets irritating her wounds even more. He looked down at her with a smirk while he buttoned up his jacket. Seeing his eyes on her still naked body she hastily pulled the corner of the sheets over herself in an attempt of modesty.

He came and sat beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping as he adjusted his cuffs.

"No love." He told her while staring at the floor.

"No love." She repeated, a smile resembling more of a wince crossing her features.

"But I want to see you again."

"You know where I live." She joked, gesturing to her room.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he anxiously ran his hands down his thighs.

"I could get you some jobs." He mentioned. "I can't promise you won't run into men like that-"

He jabbed a thumb towards the dead-eyed man still on her bed. She looked to him too, a grimace contorting her face.

"-but you wouldn't have to kiss them."

"You could do that?" She asked softly.

"If you stop whoring yourself out." His head jerked and his jaw clenched.

"Careful, Zsasz, that's sounding an awful lot like jealously." She teased him.

"I'm merely looking after your well-being." He responded, surprisingly earnest.

"I can look after myself." She said without thinking, then went to correct herself. "But thank you."

They looked at one another, a deep understanding rooted between them as Zsasz picked up her chin and kissed her softly.

"I'll see you again." He promised her before getting up, adjusting his suit before stalking out of the room.

She watched him leave her room and shortly after she heard her front door being opened and closed. She looked to herself, then to the bled-out man on her bed. Well, at least she was promised a commission soon. Otherwise how else would she replace the bloody mattress?

#fanfic #victor zsasz #victor zsasz x ofc #gotham

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delicatelyherdreams · 5 years

Text

Story Time

Paring: Bucky Barnes x Reader (kinda)

Summary: Bucky is coerced into joining a local library’s story time for veterans. He’s not sure what to expect.

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD; dismemberment; Very little reader insert but I still love this fic with my whole heart; this is mainly Bucky just being cute with kids; (totally didn’t get this idea talking with @buckysbeardliness (yes I did she’s so good at inspiring me ngl))

Word Count: 2213

“Y-You want me to do what now?”

(y/n) stared down at him still offering the pamphlet. “It’s called ‘Kids Give Back.’ It’s a library program where elementary students read books to veterans. Some of them even have dogs.”

Bucky eyed the pamphlet. “And why do you think this is a good idea?”

“Y’Know... These kids want to help you out and read you stories and feel like they’re doing something to support those who have supported them.” She shrugged. “Come on, Buck. I know some of the librarians putting this on and, from what they’ve told me, I think that this will be really good for you. It might help you get a little better.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

She stared him down, her gaze hardening. “Come on, Buck. It’s only an hour and you make these kids’ days. Can’t you just do it?” She held the pamphlet out to him again.

No he couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He didn’t see the point in going to this library program and he could think of better things to do with his time. He shook his head and pushed the paper away. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not doing this.”

———

Two weeks later, he found himself standing in a line at the local library, a hat pulled low over his face and gloves covering his hands. He felt awkward standing in this line of men, some of them who were old enough to be his actual age and others fresh home from their tours. All of whom were wearing some of their veteran gear, whether it be their old uniforms or a hat stating when they served. He had decided to leave behind the World War II hat that (y/n) had offered him. He wanted to be as incognito as possible, especially with his identity.

The men around him chatted in good faith, all asking about what branch they served in, where they went, going over old war stories. It was heartwarming in a way, but it made Bucky squeamish.

(y/n) stood next to him in line, flipping through a novel she had just checked out. On his insistence, she had agreed to join him for “moral support,” but really, he figured that she was just there to make sure he didn’t make a run for it. She genuinely thought that this could help him a little bit or at least make him feel a little less isolated from the world and the newer generations. If nothing else, she wanted him to see that his PTSD was valid and real and that people were willing to help—even children wanted to pitch in.

The door to the story time room opened up, drawing his attention, and a librarian poked her head out. With a soft smile, she looked over the line of men and said, “They’re ready for you.”

Immediately the line began to file in.

(y/n) took a step out of the line, giving Bucky an encouraging smile. “I’ll be out here in the library. Call me when you’re done, m’kay?”

Bucky only nodded before following the vet in front of him, entering the room and standing in the room across from a line of eager looking children. He couldn’t help but notice that they all held an armful of books and a slip of paper in their hands that had the name of their veteran scribbled onto them. He wondered which of these rambunctious scamps had him.

“Welcome everyone to Kid’s Give Back,” the librarian started once everyone was in place. “We’re so glad that you could all come.” She was speaking to the veterans now. “Our kids have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. They can’t wait to read to you guys; they’ve already picked out some of their favorite books to share with you guys.”

As if on cue, some of the kids held up their picture books to display.

The veterans around Bucky chuckled in amusement.

“You’re going to be claimed by your child and they will take you out to their favorite spots in the library. For a half hour, they will then read you their favorite stories. They’ve been practicing extra hard just for you. And then, at the end of the time, we’ll all come back here, close out, and then you’ll be free to leave. Any questions?”

There were none.

“Great! Then, Miley, would you mind starting us off?”

One-by-one, the kids claimed their reading buddies and scurried off into the library.

Bucky waited patiently for his name to be called. He wasn’t entirely amused with the situation, but he figured he’d play along for both the kid’s and (y/n)’s sake.

Eventually, a little boy stepped forward. He was tiny, maybe seven or eight years old, with thick framed glasses, a jacket with a Captain America shirt hidden beneath, and an armful of books covered with heroes that Bucky knew all too well. He held up his paper and, in a shaking voice, called out, “J-James Barnes?”

Bucky took a deep breath before approaching the kid. He could only imagine how this looked to others: a big burly man stalking towards this frail little boy. How the kid wasn’t quaking in his boots was a mystery to him.

Instead the boy stared up at him. “M-My name’s Luke and I’ll be your reading buddy, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile down at him. “My friends call me Bucky.”

“B-Bucky? Like Captain America’s friend?” Luke reached forward to take Bucky’s hand to lead him out into the library.

Bucky went willingly. “Exactly,” he said.

Luke stared up at him with bright eyes. “No way.”

“Way. You wanna see something to prove it?” An eager nod was the only answer he needed before he let go of the boy’s hand and tugged off his glove to reveal the metal beneath it.

His eyes went as wide as saucers as he stared down at the prosthetic. “No way! You really are Bucky Barnes!” The smile on his face was incomparable. “You’re my favorite superhero, Mr. Barnes! I can’t ever find any books with you in them or shirts of you, but you’re still my hero! You’re so cool!” He continued to ramble on as he led Bucky through the library off to a secluded section. Among the shelves stood a simple red tent. Luke paused his speech as he came up to it. “This is my favorite spot. I love this tent and— Aww... Someone’s already in it.” His lip curled down into a pout.

Bucky ducked his head down to look and, sure enough, there was a person sitting in it—a very familiar person at that. “(y/n)? Doll, watcha doin’ in there?”

She looked up from her novel, a guilty smile on her face. “Reading?”

“Mhmm. Well can Luke and I steal the tent from you? He wants to read me some stories about the team.”

Her eyes darted between the little boy and Bucky before they flashed with understanding. “Of course!” She quickly gathered up her items and moved to vacate the tent. But, before she left, she paused to talk to Luke. “Don’t let this big lug intimidate you,” she said with a knowing smile. “He’s actually a real big teddy bear underneath all that; I should know.” She shot Bucky a wink and walked away.

Luke stared after her in awe. “Who’s she?” he asked as he dragged Bucky towards the tent.

The hero clambered into the tent and sat down. If he took a deep enough breath, he could still smell (y/n) in the air and it made him grin. “My girlfriend,” he said. “Now, what book are we reading first?”

The answer was a picture book of Captain America’s rise to becoming Captain America because “It has you in it, Mr. Ba— I mean, Bucky.” Sure enough it did. A cartoony version of his own face stared up at Bucky as Luke read him the book with a stuttering voice.

Bucky had to admit that it was kinda adorable. Luke was trying so hard to sound out the big words and impress him and it made Bucky’s heart swell. Luke would, every once in a while, stare up at Bucky with wide eyes, looking for his approval. Every time, without fail, Bucky would nod down at him encouragingly.

They got through three books before Luke shifted next to him, becoming timid and antsy.

Bucky frowned down at him. “What’s up, kiddo?”

Luke shrugged. “I-I was wondering if...” he trailed off awkwardly, almost afraid to continue his thought.

“Go on...”

“I was wondering if I could maybe touch your arm.” He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“Of course.” Bucky shuffled his position and rolled up his sleeve so that Luke would have full access to the metal prosthetic.

The boy’s fingers began to roam along the plates instantly, his eyes wide with wonder at actually getting to touch a superhero. “Wow... This is so cool!”

Bucky chuckled warmly. “I guess it is, huh?”

“And you can move it all you want?”

“Just as well as I could move the other one. Only sometimes I have to oil the joints to keep them from getting stuck.”

“Cool...” He continued to touch various parts of the arm, halting over one spot on his shoulder. “What’s this button do?”

Bucky opened his mouth to warn the boy too late because soon Luke’s thumb was pushing down on the button and Bucky could feel the artificial nerves detach.

With a hiss and a pop, the prosthetic detached from his torso, clattering down and falling useless at his side.

Luke screamed in terror at the sudden lack of Bucky’s limb and flailed as the arm sank in his hands. The shock of dismembering one of his hero’s must’ve been too much for the poor boy to handle because seconds later his eyes were rolling up into the back of his head and he collapsed forward as he fainted.

“Oh god!” The dislocated arm forgotten, Bucky quickly wrapped his arm around the kid and lifted him into his lap so he could begin to resuscitate him. “Luke? Luke? Wake up, pal,” he coaxed gently.

He didn’t mind the fact that Luke’d taken off his arm—that much could be fixed easily—but he found his heart flooding with concern over Luke’s well being.

It was maybe a minute before the boy came to, his eyes fluttering open in a daze. “Wh-What?” he mumbled softly.

Bucky all but cried out with relief. “Oh, thank God. You really scared me there, pal. You alright?”

“Yes, Mr. Barnes, but what...?” It was then that he noticed Bucky’s lack of an appendage and began to panic again. “Oh my God! I took off your arm! I’m so sorr—”

Bucky waved him off as he reached over to grab the prosthetic. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time it’s happened.” He draped the arm over his lap with a chuckle. “However, this does kinda throw a wrench in our story time plans...”

Luke nodded in understanding. “I’m so sorry, Mr. B— Bucky.” He looked so ashamed of what he’d done.

With his good hand, Bucky reached over and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry about it, pal. I don’t mind.” Picking up his arm, he awkwardly crawled out of the tent.

Luke followed after him. “Wh-Where are we going?”

“We have to go find my girl. She can help us put my arm back on.” And with that, Bucky led Luke through the library to hunt down (y/n). They found her binge reading in the lounge.

She didn’t even glance up from her book until Bucky cleared his throat, but when she did she blanched. “What happened?” she demanded as she threw her bookmark in and tossed the book aside to attend to Bucky’s arm.

“Technical difficulties, now fix me,” Bucky deadpanned at her, eliciting a small giggle from Luke.

She rolled her eyes mumbling, “Technical difficulties, my ass,” but she complied. It took her maybe five minutes to reattach the artificial nerves and pop the arm back into place, but by the time it was all said and done and Bucky had regained his full range of motion in the limb, the story time was over and it was time to return to the room.

Luke reluctantly led Bucky back for the closing ordeal, sad to let his hero go.

Bucky stayed with him right up until his parents came to collect him. Before they parted, Luke gave him the biggest hug he could muster with his tiny body, apologized once again for taking off his arm, and promised Bucky that he was the best superhero ever. Bucky simply ruffled his hair, made him promise to be good, and sent him on his way.

(y/n) waited for him at the library’s entrance, a smug smile on her face. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she teased as she offered him her hand.

He took it automatically, lacing his fingers in hers. “No.”

“You liar. What would Luke say if he knew that his hero was a big. Fat. Liar?”

He shook his head, a small smile crossing his lips. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, doll.”

Bucky Barnes Taglist: @cauraphernelia @thorins-queen-of-erebor @ria132love @moonstruckhargrove @free-as-fishes @jitterbuck @mallorydoesstuff @baneofkoveras05 @trashpanda-barnes @klmpun @karla-silva @imarockstar45 @danyofwesteros @seachelle-the-tideborn @nerdyladydream @bambamwolf87 @some-person-somewhere @fairislesheets

Marvel Taglist: @ifyousayyouloveme @butimthekingofhell @mojitoclauds

Sebastian Stan Taglist: @mywinterwolf @libbymouse @crazybutconfidentaf

Permanent Taglist: @dont-speak-just-read @becauseismellgood @impalaimages @breezy1415 @lou-la-lou @aestheticapricity @a-book-pressed-rose @watchoutforfrostbite @dragonborn791924 @everythingisoverrated @extreme-supernatural-lover @hi-my-name-is-riley @wishingforahome @natcad @whyugottabsorude @tutis24 @buckysbeardliness @oh-balls-you-idjits @s3glz33 @tina8009 @picapicapicassobaby @stevehesaidabadlanguageword @carmillatheboss @shieldgirl95 @racheo91 @vvhat-the-hell-is-a-stiles

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes story #bucky story #bucky fic #bucky barnes library #barnes #bucky #bucky x you #bucky fluff #fluff #luke #story time #delicatelyherdreams #i am shit at tagging

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thenovelartist · 5 years

Text

A Coat that Binds

@disorganizedkitten, I’m your Confidential Cupid! :D So, I have some LadyNoir as well as some protective gal pal moments here for you ;) Hope you enjoy.

With the taverns he frequented masked as Chat Noir, bar fights were a common sight to Adrien. It wasn’t as though the most notorious pirate of the seven kingdoms would be visiting high class establishments. They usually were the kind filled with low class ruffians and poorly clad women throwing themselves at him in hopes he’d share a little of his spoils.

So when a woman dressed in a red coat, looking presentable as ever, walked into one of the aforementioned disreputable taverns, of course he would pay attention.

He may be a pirate, but he was raised as the child of a high-ranking naval commander. Morals and values and preserving women’s virtues were high on his list.

The woman looked around the room, clearly searching for someone. But as expected, she was quickly approached. He was a burly man whose leer made it very clear what he wanted from her.

Adrien sat at the edge of his seat, watching the scene from the corner of his eye in an attempt to not look overly interested. It was all he could do to not take her by the arm, pull her outside, and tell her that this tavern was no place for a lovely lady.

Thankfully, she wasn’t naïve enough to accept his advances despite being naïve enough to walk in here in the first place. Chat caught the tail end of him asking her to go upstairs with her. Thankfully, she was having none of it.

He backed her up to the bar, and Adrien was one step away from taking the guy by the neck and throttling him. But the woman shocked him along with everyone else in the bar when she flipped around, yanking the half-empty bottle of liquor straight from the bartender’s hand and smashing it into the guy’s head.

Adrien fell in love with her right then.

If that wasn’t enough, she held the neck of the bottle with the jagged edge against the man’s neck. “Leave. Me. Alone,” she growled.

Fierce little thing. Adrien grinned. He just fell a little more.

The burly man’s face was cut to pieces, blood trails dripping down his neck onto his shirt, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he reached for the girl’s neck, ignorant to the fact she was holding broke glass at his own.

Before the man could grab her, Adrien took a chair and knocked him out cold.

The girl in the pretty, red coat turned to him, allowing him to see that her eyes were a lovely shade of blue.

“Forgive me, princess,” he purred, tossing on his signature cattish grin. “But it seemed you could use a little rescuing.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. The pout on her lips was adorable, but it proved that she was far too naïve to be walking around without someone, particularly a male, with her. Meaning Adrien had a good excuse to escort her out of here and to wherever she should be. “What brings you here, anyway?”

She scowled at him, and for a moment, he thought she would refuse to answer. “I was looking for a friend, but it’s clear he’s not here.”

“Maybe I could help you find your friend. This cat is actually an expert at finding people.”

She looked him up and down before meeting his gaze again. “You’re not a cat.”

It drew a round of laughs, but something didn’t sit right in Adrien’s stomach. “I’m the great pirate Chat Noir, my lady.”

Something sparked in her eyes, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Stay away from me, pirate.” And with that, she marched out of the tavern.

He followed her, of course, but she’d disappeared. However, one thing was for certain: he had to meet this girl again, and he had to woo her. No other girl would ever do.

…

“Just so you know, Marinette,” Alya began as they walked around the market. Where in the seven kingdoms they were, they weren’t sure, but when Rose wanted to see the spoils of a market, they went to see the spoils of the market. “The next time you decide to go off looking for Luka alone, I’m going to trap you in a net until you know better.”

“Yeah,” Mylene agreed. She shifted her head covering to further protect her face from the mid-day sun. “We were really worried about you.”

“And Luka can take care of himself,” Juleka, Luka’s younger sister, added. “He didn’t need you to go looking for him.”

“That may be so,” Marinette said. “But after he almost got caught after losing his coat, I don’t want to take any more chances.”

No one could disagree with her there.

There was a clamor of commotion coming from behind the four girls. While Mylene immediately suggested they escape for the day—she never liked being surrounded by people—there was one little catch.

Mainly, two of their group were missing.

“Alix,” Alya growled. “I swear if you started something again, I’ll—”

Unfortunately, Alya did not need to finish that sentence. Said girl stood between Rose and some big, fat merchant.

Marinette growled. Why did she have to face off big guys lately? She may not be anything extraordinary but she did feel the need to protect her friends, something much easier to accomplish when the men weren’t twice her size.

She looked around, desperately searching for a weapon. She smirked at the broken pot behind another merchant’s stand.

She always used the weapon as a last resort, and a man reaching for her friend’s coat counted as a dire emergency. Marinette had no choice but to break her weapon over the man’s head.

The pottery cracked, knocking the man down long enough for Alix, Rose, and Marinette to run. They had overstayed their welcome, it seemed, and now it was time to go.

“Get back here!” someone shouted, which only caused the girls to run faster through the crowd. Marinette lagged behind, constantly searching for whatever object might become useful should the man catch up to them. Their main priority was to get back to the water front while not being followed.

They were so close to being free, but Marinette always found that this form made her little clumsier than her other one. She tripped over something, crashing headlong onto the ground and sliding to a stop.

“Gotcha.”

Fear pulsed though her as she looked up to see the man reaching for her. Only for a sword to block his path.

Startled, Marinette looked up to see who held that sword, and her gut instantly sank. Because she recognized that blonde mess of hair and black outfit.

“Chat Noir,” the fat merchant said, jaw on the ground as he quickly backed up.

“What seems to be the trouble here?” Chat Noir asked, a taunting smirk on his face.

“This,” the merchant gestured to Marinette, “wretch bashed me over the head after her friends were caught stealing.”

“They weren’t stealing!” Marinette quickly countered. Could she say she knew it for a fact? No. But she knew her friends, and while Rose and Alix were sometimes too nosey and curious for their own good, none of them could be accused of stealing.

“There, you see?” Chat Noir said, flashing the merchant a smile before leaning down to offer a hand to Marinette.

Marinette hesitated before taking his hand. He was a pirate. Pirates could not be trusted. That was a lecture she knew she would heed. However, in this one instance, she felt safe enough in at least letting him assist her to stand again.

The merchant sputtered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that my Ladybug would never lie.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but he just smiled at her. “Go on, my lady. I’ll be waiting for you.” He sent her a wink.

She didn’t necessarily know what that meant, but she did see the opportunity to escape while Chat Noir chatted effortlessly with the merchant.

So that was exactly what she did.

Her friends were waiting for her, still in human form, as she ran to the water.

“Where were you?” Alya asked, clearly worried.

“I tripped, that’s all,” Marinette dismissed. “Now, come on. I’d like to forget this day ever happened.”

“Yeah,” Alya agreed. “Next time we go to a market, could we not anger the fat man?”

“Yeah, that’s the second time in a row,” Mylene added.

With a snort, Alix tossed her hands in the air. “It’s not my fault he didn’t like us looking at his trinkets.”

“I’m sorry,” Rose said.

Alix instantly softened. “It’s not your fault, Rose,” she assured. “He was being rude. I think you had every right to pick up the trinket.”

“Well, nevertheless,” Marinette interjected, “Could we just get back home?”

None of the girls could disagree. One by one, her friends dove into the water, each of them transforming. As she hit the water, Marinette couldn’t help but let her thoughts linger on a certain pirate with a strange name. That was twice he’d helped her. Which to her, that was extremely odd.

Weren’t pirates supposed to be the scum of the sea?

…

Normally, Adrien didn’t care what kind of animals followed his ship around. It didn’t matter. However, this particular seal had decided to linger for nearly a month now. He couldn’t help but think that the little red and black seal deserved a name.

“Morning, Tikki,” he hollered down at it.

The seal even looked up at him as though it could answer. He had to laugh. “The sea looking good today?”

That’s when the seal dove down to hide.

But it came back.

For two months straight.

…

“Marinette! Wait.”

She sighed. So much for sneaking out without being noticed.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Yeah. You’ve disappeared a lot lately.”

“Why are you so secretive?”

The questions came rapidly from her friends. So quick Marinette didn’t even have the time to answer a single one.

Not that she particularly wanted to. Where she was going and what she was doing would probably convince Alya to actually complete her favorite threat.

“Tell us, girl!” Alya finished.

By now, Marinette was staring at her five closest friends, their expressions varying from concerned to irritated. As much as Marinette didn’t want to tell them where she was going, the last thing she wanted was to lie. She just couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I,” Marinette said, hoping her cringe wasn’t evident. “I might be going… to meet… someone.”

That was all it took for those five girls to start bombarding her with a whole new set of questions.

“Who is he?”

“Do we know him?”

“Is he handsome?

It wasn’t until Marinette managed to dodge all of their questions that Marinette was released to go meet her mystery man.

She knew her friends were irritated with her for not telling the whole truth, but she didn’t lie. Not even about going to meet a guy. Because today, after three months of following the Cataclysm around on the sea, her curiosity had finally gotten the better of her.

Today, she was going to meet Chat Noir out on land.

Her heart was racing with excitement. And nervousness. She knew she was taking a huge risk. She knew it. She also knew her friends would strangle her if they knew she was going up on land alone. However, she just had to meet him. He wasn’t like any of the other pirates of the sea. He was kind and had the nicest laugh.

He’d named her and called her his good luck charm. Surely, he wasn’t the average pirate.

She arrived at the town she knew he’d be in. He always came to this market and only this one, but to confirm it, she searched for his ship. When she spotted it docked at a harbor, she relaxed. Now, to get on land.

She found a secret spot to transform. With a flash, she stepped out of the ocean, her skin shedding to reveal a thinner one underneath while her first skin wrapped around her in a coat. She still wore the clothes that she’d had on last time she stepped out of land, meaning she wouldn’t garner odd looks or unwanted attention.

It also meant she could immediately begin her search for Chat Noir. Considering it might very well take all day and she still might not be successful, getting started as soon as she could was an absolute must.

…

Adrien wandered the markets, looking for supplies. Being out in broad daylight didn’t quite bother him. At least, not at this market. He had to be careful where he showed himself, but since he thwarted the assassination of some high-ranking noble, he’d been given free-reign here.

It wasn’t exactly intentional. More of a pure coincidence that there had been a large bounty on the assassin’s head and Chat Noir had taken him out right before he could finish his kill. Really, it was a right-place-right-time situation.

“Miss, are you going to buy anything or not?”

Adrien glanced over to see what the shopkeeper was yelling about, only to do a doubletake. Standing in front of him was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen in his life, the one he swore would only ever do.

And right now, she was cowering under the gaze of the shopkeeper, a pretty trinket held against her chest as though she’d been frightened. Slowly, she unfurled herself from her cowered position, only to glance sadly at the trinket before putting it back.

But Adrien wouldn’t have it.

“Here,” he said, tossing a large coin in the shopkeeper’s direction.

The man barely caught it, but Adrien didn’t pay much attention. Instead, he was looking at the woman who was looking at him. With a grin, he pushed the trinket back up to her. “For you, milady.” He sent her a wink, hoping to get a blush out of her.

Instead, she tilted her head at the action. However, she did blush as she held the trinket close. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said, his smile growing. “Tis a pleasure to see you again. Do you visit the market often?”

“On occasion,” she said. “But usually not alone.”

She was alone today? He had to work hard to shove down the satisfactory grin that threatened to bubble up at any moment. “Well, then, I see it my duty to escort you around. I simply cannot let such a lovely young woman walk around alone.”

Finally, there was a blush on her cheeks that caused his heart to pound with pride. “Then I suppose I can’t refuse.”

…

“I can’t believe you’re still seeing him!” Alya said, shaking her head in bewilderment.

Marinette hadn’t been able to keep her secret for long. After a full month, Alya finally dragged the truth out of Marinette. Which meant that fire rained down on her.

An impressive feat considering that they lived in the sea.

“I understand your doubts,” Marinette admitted. “But he’s wonderful and kind and charming and thoughtful and—”

“Whoa, slow down there, princess,” Alix interrupted with a smug grin.

Marinette could only glare at Alix. However, Rose was close enough to smack Alix’s shoulder. “Let her be!” she scolded. “I, for one, think it’s utterly adorable!”

“Of course, you would,” Alix mumbled.

“You have to admit,” Mylene spoke up. “That this Chat Noir has treated her really well for being a pirate.”

Seeing that her point was made, Marinette gestured wildly at Mylene. “Thank you!”

“Girl, we just want you taken care of and safe,” Alya spoke up again. “Don’t blame us for being a little concerned.”

At that, Marinette sobered. As she thought of it, she realized she would do the same to any of her friends if they found themselves in her situation. They were all very close and protective of each other. Was it wrong of them to be worried about her?

“I’m sorry,” Marinette said, the fight being drained out of her. “I guess I just… got excited about everything.”

Alya’s expression morphed to something soft before she grabbed her friend in a tight hug. “We just love you, that’s all. And we want the best for you.”

Within moments, Marinette was the center of a group hug, all her friends’ murmuring their agreements.

Marinette returned the hug as best she could. “Thank you, girls,” she said. “You’re the best friends a selkie could ask for.”

…

Marinette was up past her head in trouble.

Her coat was gone, leaving her feeling bare despite wearing a blouse that was a little too large for her and a skirt that she’d ripped when the captain of the ship she was trapped on dragged her down into his bedroom.

It was all her fault. She’d been so careless. It had become her favorite past-time to swim beside the Cataclysm, the ship owned by the man she swore was the love of her life. Chat Noir was the only pirate she could ever call trustworthy and kind. He showed her respect on land, but what she noticed was he even treated the sea creatures with respect. There was one time he’d caught a seal in his nets when fishing, and instead of calling it a meal, he’d cut it loose and smiled at it as it swam off.

It was the action that left all her friends admitting that maybe Chat Noir wasn’t such a terrible pirate after all. It at least got them to calm a bit about Marinette’s insistence on seeing him every chance she could.

He was always a perfect gentleman with her. It had been a year now that she had been scouting out his ship, waiting for whenever it would dock and allow her the chance to spend time by his side. He always made her feel treasured. He was never greedy with his money, instead throwing it at merchants whenever she found something pretty. She now harbored a collection hidden away in a secret grotto.

She suspected that Alya may be jealous of some of the trinkets considering the way she eyed them.

However, all of that seemed distant as her fear overtook her. Pirates were the ones that she was warned to stay away from while she was taught that the Royal Navy sailors weren’t too dangerous. But Marinette begged to differ. She’d been caught in one of their nets while trying to get to the Cataclysm, which hadn’t been that far off. Instead of letting her go free, the captain deemed her his prize. Marinette knew enough about human males from her time on land with Chat Noir to know that a man deeming her his “prize” meant “having his way with her”.

And that gleam in his eyes had terrified her.

There was a commotion on the other side of the doorway, shouting and screaming and the sound of metal against metal. And then the door handle jiggled.

A new wave of terror filled her as she searched to find anything that would allow her to defend herself.

She reached for a metal lamp just as the door burst open, but it wasn’t the captain who entered.

Her heart fluttered in shock as she took in his black attire, and the lamp fell from her hands. “Chat Noir.”

He looked as surprised as she did. “Ladybug?”

At the sound of her nickname, she ran into his arms. He instantly embraced her, tucking her against his chest protectively. “What are you doing here?” he asked, stroking her hair affectionately. “Are you okay?”

No. She was most definitely not okay. She was trapped and the captain wanted to use her for his personal pleasure and-and-and—

“He took my coat.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” he quickly said.

“No,” she said, biting her lip. “No, you don’t understand. I have to have my coat.”

He pulled away just enough to look her in the eye. “It’s not worth it,” he said. “Leave it be, I’ll get you a—”

“No,” she interrupted. “No. You don’t… I can’t… I have to have that coat. You don’t understand what I am.”

His brow furrowed, which caused her gut to sink. Never once did she tell him that she wasn’t human. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized it would come out one of these days, but she never thought she would be so worried about his reaction. “What do you mean? What you a—” He stopped short, his eyes widening.

“I’m a selkie,” she confirmed. “I’ve always met you on land, so you wouldn’t have any reason to believe it. But that’s why I need my coat so badly. I…”

He looked at her a while longer before shaking his head. “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll find your coat. Just stay here. I will come back for you.”

“Promise?” Her voice came out soft and weak and uncertain.

He looked at her, his green eyes turning hard. Despite his expression being fierce, it was with a certain gentleness that he pulled her close and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I will be back,” he repeated on a whisper. “I promise. Stay here, out of the fighting, please.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that it was difficult to say, “okay.”

He pulled himself away, and with one last meaningful glance, he rushed out the door.

Before she could fall over, Marinette found a place to sit. While her heart was pounding with the fear that someone other than Chat was going to burst though that door at any minute, her mind was reeling from the kiss. She reached up to touch her temple, and a smile crossed her lips at the thought of his kiss.

She needed to pull herself back down to earth.

His entrance the second time still scared her as much as the first. Relief flooded her when she realized it was Chat, her coat in hand.

She gasped happily, reaching out for it, but she quickly pulled her hand back. He gave her a smile that momentarily caused her to forget why she’d pulled her hand back in the first place. Only when she realized he was about to wrap her up in it did her mind start working again. Backing up, she cried for him to stop.

He froze in place, though he looked worried. “What is it?”

“You have to know,” she warned, looking at the man she loved, “the lore of selkies.”

His brow furrowed. “The lore of selkies?”

She nodded. “If… if you give that back to me, I’ll become completely and totally besotted with you.” She’d heard that it was as though a magic spell would be cast over her and she would have eyes for no man other than him.

Slowly, a wide grin stretched across his face as he continued to approach her. “Are you okay with that?”

Her heart thumped oddly in her chest. “Wh… what?”

“Are you okay with being besotted with me?” he asked. “Because frankly, miladybug, I’m pretty besotted with you already.”

Again, her heart did an odd dance while her stomach twisted into shy knots. “And are you okay that I kinda lied?”

His brow furrowed again as he took a half step back. “Lied?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but the words were difficult to come by. It was only because of the banging and screaming above that reminded her that they trapped on a ship that words suddenly appeared on her tongue. “Returning a coat is also a selkie marriage custom.”

His eyes seemed to widen at that. She couldn’t blame him. Of course, it would scare him. He was a pirate. And pirates flirted with women, not married them.

Her eyes sank to the ground as she took another step back. “I’m sorry. Just drop the coat on the floor and I’ll pick it up and—”

She froze. He’d come very close to her; she could feel it. She opened her eyes, only to confirm that his boots were right before her, and when she looked up, she noticed his arms were around her, ready to drape the coat over her shoulders with her say so.

Her eyes locked on his, and she felt herself warm as a lopsided grin graced his face. “Say the word and I’m yours,” he whispered.

The world faded away as her heart pounded in her chest. He wanted her? He wanted to marry her? A pirate? Take a selkie wife? “You… want to marry me?”

He smiled.

“A selkie?”

He shrugged.

“There is no going back.”

“It’s a marriage. Of course, there isn’t.” He said it with such certainty that her fear dissipated.

She licked her suddenly dry lips, then swallowed. “Give me my coat.”

In one smooth motion, he wrapped the coat over her shoulders, and Marinette felt everything change in that moment. All she wanted to do was get lost in those eyes that were gleaming as they gazed back into hers. She was acutely aware of how tightly he was holding her coat to her body, as though he could wrap her up and protect her from the world.

“Now, let’s get you out of here.”

“What?”

He smirked in a way that was strictly Chat Noir, then picked her up, garnering a squeak from her. “Out the window, my ladybug. And I will find you again later tonight.”

“What?” she repeated, trying to make sure she’d heard him right.

He chuckled as he managed to open the window with one hand, then set her down on the sill. “You are getting out of here, am I clear?”

Her heart jumped nervously, and she grabbed his shirt. “I don’t want to leave you.”

With a cattish grin, he took one of her hands off his shoulder and pressed a kiss to the back. “We’ll meet again,” he said, leaning closer to her, “my wife.”

Her heart pounded at those words.

He gave her a smile. “Now,” he said, his hands now resting on her waist. He looked like he was going to kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her.

Her eyes closed on their own accord.

“You are getting out of here.”

Suddenly, she felt herself falling. Her eyes burst open just as she hit the water. She was stunned for a second, but managed to grab her coat and wrap it around herself. It quickly became a second skin as she morphed back to her seal form.

She popped her head above water, only to see his smiling face. He shot her a salute before he disappeared.

Her heart taken and worried, she lingered around the ships, watching as treasure chests and goods were taken across a gang plank from the Papillion to the Cataclysm. Normally, she wouldn’t agree with the lawlessness, but in this case, she wouldn’t make a fuss. That captain had stolen her coat. How dare the man steal her from the sea and think he could use her for his pleasure. She held no pity for him as Chat Noir marched across the gang plank, taunting the man one last time before sailing off, leaving the crew of the Papillion tied up and without goods.

Marinette could only grin as she slipped away. She would find the Cataclysm again soon enough, but for now, she had some news to share with her friends.

…

“I’m married!”

In an instant, five selkies were staring at Marinette.

“What?”

“Yeah!” Marinette cried as she rushed over, ready to explain everything that had transpired to her friends.

“You were captured?”

“On a royal ship?”

“That captain is going to pay!”

“Yes, yes, and my husband already made him.”

This got the girls to pause. “Your husband?” Alya asked.

“Oh, come on,” Alix scoffed. “Don’t look so surprised. With as much time as she’s spent around Chat Noir, it’s shocking she only just got married to him.”

None of the other girls could disagree with it.

“You have to admit,” Mylene said, breaking the silence. “He did seem nice the one time we saw him in the market.”

“And he paid for his things,” Rose pointed out.

“And he does make Marinette happy,” Juleka added.

Alya sighed. “Fine, so he’s a decent guy. Sorry for being picky over who gave my best friend’s coat to her.”

Marinette sided up to Alya and wrapped her arms around her. “He’s a good man, I promise.”

“Which is something I never thought I’d hear be said about a pirate,” Alya admitted. “So I want to meet him before you go away with him.”

Marinette frowned. “I usually have to find his ship—”

“Well, then, it seems like we are going to storm the Cataclysm.”

Marinette looked at her friend, whose expression showed she was completely serious. Glancing at her other friends, she noted that they all looked the same: hands on their hips and eyes fiery with determination.

She couldn’t help but smile. “I love you all.”

Their smiles faded pretty quickly as they attacked Marinette in a group hug. “We love you, too.”

…

Adrien sat on the rocky beach of the coast they docked at, waiting for his Ladybug. The moment he’d seen her seal form, he realized she was his Tikki, his little good luck charm. How appropriate that he called her Ladybug.

He was so eager for her to come back to him that he made it easy to find her, docking at this city, in this market where they always met. She would arrive; he knew it.

Off in the distance, he saw some creatures jump out of the sea, swimming towards shore while barking to each other. He smiled when he realized they were seals. The question remaining was if one of those seals was his selkie or not.

He didn’t have long to wait for that answer to become clear.

She appeared at the base of the rocks, looking up at him with her seal eyes. In a glow, he watched her transform, revealing glossy black hair tumbling over her blue, blue eyes as she stared up at him in reverence.

His heart pounded in his chest. Hard. “Why, fancy meeting you here, miladybug.”

Her grin glowed in the dusk sky. She pulled herself up out of the water onto the rocks, and that’s when five other seals appeared. In bright glows all their own, the five seals morphed to humans. And all of them glared up at him threateningly.

“Listen up,” the one in the center directed. Her hair was almost red in the light and her skin was darker than the rest. “That is our best friend whom you married. If we find out that you hurt her in any way, you will have five selkies ready to charge your ship and wreck all the havoc in the world, and I clear about that?”

“Alya,” Ladybug warned through gritted teeth.

She glared up at her friend. “Shush! I’m threatening your husband.”

Adrien felt a little lost and simply decided that staying quiet was the best option for now. He let this Alya yell at him a while before she finally ran out of words and settled for glaring at him.

“Forgive her,” Ladybug said, sliding up next to him and wrapping her arms around one of his. “She’s my best friend.”

‘But we’re all her friends,” the selkie with pink hair warned, glaring at Adrien. “And we all have her back. If you don’t treat her well, we’ll sink your ship and drag all your crew under and feast on their bodies.”

Considering the strange looks the other selkies gave her, Adrien was going to assume that wasn’t what selkies did.

Or, he hoped, anyway.

“Don’t worry,” he said, finally finding the words to say. “I plan to take good care of her.”

“But you’re a pirate,” a third selkie, one with long blonde hair spoke up. “Usually, we’re taught not to trust you.”

“I… true,” he admitted. “But I have morals,” he quickly defended. “I was raised as the son of a military commander. My father had failed for years trying to eradicate the pirate issue haunting the towns. So, in my rebellion, I became a pirate to take down other pirates. My crew consists entirely of kids who grew up in the military, like me.”

Adrien watched the girls’ expressions shift, partly out of surprise and partly confusion.

“If you don’t believe me, I understand,” he assured. “But I swear, my morals are of high standard, and I promise that your friend will be in safe hands.”

In a flash, he was being squeezed by the squealing girl at his side. “I knew I liked you!”

His cheeks warmed as he looked down at the girl who had thrown her arms around him and shoved her face against his shoulder. The way she was curled into his side made him want to just pull her into his lap already, so he could hold her the way she was holding him.

Slowly, Alya’s surprise faded into something smug. “Well then, military brat, we’ll hold you to those expectations.”

He had the district feeling that failing to meet her high expectations would bring more harm on him than he could imagine. “I won’t fail her.”

His Ladybug giggled happily.

“Before we go,” the selkie with pink hair spoke up, “we need to know one last thing.”

“And that is?”

“Marinette never told us your name, pirate.”

Suddenly, the girl at his side stiffened.

“Marinette?” he repeated quietly. It took him a few seconds to realize that that was the name of his Ladybug. “Your name’s Marinette.”

“No. Way.”

Adrien glanced back at the other selkies just in time to watch their shock give way to wild grins. “Girl! You never told him your name?”

“I…” Marinette began. She paused to swallow. “No?”

That sent the other girls into peals of laughter, slapping the water and splashing around.

“Marinette,” Alya said between fits of giggles. “What are we going to do with you!”

Marinette pouted and pressed her face into his shoulder again.

“Your name is beautiful,” he whispered to her, hoping to ease her clear embarrassment.

“Not helping,” she mumbled against his shirt.

He chuckled before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to him.

“Just so you know,” he said against her hair. “My name is Adrien.”

“Adrien?”

“Adrien Agreste,” he confirmed.

“Adrien,” she said, letting the name roll off her tongue in a way that was far too alluring. His name never sounded so good. “Adrien.”

“Adrien?” one of the selkies repeated. “That’s your name?”

He nodded. “Adrien Agreste. But don’t let the name get out. I’m known only as Chat Noir and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Who are we going to tell?” Alya smugly challenged.

Adrien had to admit she had a point.

“Well, Adrien,” Alya said. “You better take good care of her.”

“Yeah,” the pink-haired selkie agreed. “Or you’ll live to regret it.”

Alya may be scary, but that little pink-haired one was downright terrifying. “I understand,” he assured. “And I swear she will be well taken care of.”

“We trust you,” the petite blonde selkie piped up.

“We’re just protective of her,” the dark-haired selkie by her side quietly added.

“As good friends should be,” Adrien assured. “I understand.”

Somehow, it was those words that settled all five of the selkies.

“We’ll let you go, then,” the other blonde selkie said. “We just wanted to send Marinette off.”

“And, you know, meet her husband,” the pink-haired selkie added.

“Yeah,” the blonde agreed, “that too.”

With one last round of good-byes that turned into a somewhat tearful group hug, the five selkies shifted back to seals and slipped off into the sea.

Leaving Marinette looking longingly after them.

Adrien moved to be by her side.

At the sound of him shifting, she looked over to him and gave him a smile. “I’m sorry, it’s…” She turned back to the sea. “It’s harder than I thought it would be.”

He gave her a reassuring smile before wrapping his arms around her. “I won’t keep you from them, you know,” he said, giving her a comforting squeeze. “Our home will be on the sea, you’ll be able to visit whenever you wish.”

Marinette turned in his arms so as to meet his gaze, and he looked down at her lovingly. “My wife deserves to be happy, after all.”

Her smile turned real as she snuggled against him, her arms coming around his torso to return his embrace. “I knew you would be a good husband.”

“I have the rest of my life to continue proving that to you.”

With a giggle, she snuggled closer against him.

He was certain she could hear his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. “Now,” he began quietly, giving into the temptation to nuzzle her hair. “Would you like to stay here? Or may I take my wife home.”

“Take me home,” she answered. “Please.”

“Of course, my ladybug. Of course.”

…

Bonus:

Adrien loved being married. Waking up beside his lovely wife in the mornings and having her with him when going about his business made his day brighter. He also loved that his wife happened to be a selkie that somehow just knew how to find ships.

However, he wasn’t a fan of the harassment that came with it.

Nino, his first mate and best friend, was the biggest offender. Kim was the second. The only reason they were still on the ship was because they were exceedingly kind to Marinette. All the people on his ship were and finding new recruits was always a challenge.

“Where’s the wife at today, buddy?” Nino began. By the tone of his voice, Adrien knew he was itching to start something.

“She’s with her friends today,” Adrien said, hoping it would be the end of the conversation.

But it wasn’t. “Ah, so she’s off the ship?”

Adrien just glared at his friend. “Knock it off.”

Nino started laughing. “Sorry, buddy. I just can’t wrap my head around that you willingly got married to a selkie.”

“I hope that you fall in love one day just so I can spite you.”

Nino burst into a fit of laughter.

Before they could continue the conversation, Adrien watched a seal leap from the water right beside the ship, followed by a couple others.

He grinned fondly. There they were.

Soon enough, Marinette was at his side. He’d had latter rungs installed on the side of the ship so she would be able to get up and down between the water and deck easily. While it posed a slight hazard, he knew he would just have to be extra careful monitoring his ship.

“Adrien,” she asked, her voice soft and wonderful. She slipped a hand into his, wrapping her other hand around his bicep and resting her chin on his shoulder. “Could I bring my friends aboard? I want to show them my home.”

Adrien grinned. “Of course, my love. This is your home, too.”

“I don’t want to get in the way of the men.”

He shrugged. “They’ll be fine.”

With a squeak of happiness, she reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you!” In a second, she was gone again.

He heard Nino snort from beside him. “Letting your wife run all over you.” He shook his head. “Not fitting for the Pirate Chat Noir.”

“Keep this up, and you’ll be swabbing the deck.”

“Sure. I believe y—”

At Nino’s sudden silence, Adrien looked over at his buddy, only to see him frozen, staring off somewhere behind them. Curious, Adrien turned, trying to surmise what his friend was staring at.

Alya was there, hands on her hip as she appraised the ship. She looked over in Adrien’s direction and shot him a smirk. “Nice ship, captain. But looks like you got a broken sailor.”

Adrien looked over at Nino, who had quickly turned around to look out to the sea.

Feeling rather smug, Adrien leaned over toward his friend. “Karma’s arrived.”

“Shut up.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #chat noir #ladybug #LadyNoir #fluff #pirate #selkie #because I've been wanting to play with the lore of selkies forever now #alya cesaire #mylene haprele #alix kubdel #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #gal pals

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sgtcalhouns · 5 years

Text

Fighter

Tamora and Felix have their first fight, which leads to a shocking confession.

“Come on, baby, let me show you a good time.”

“The next time I have to tell you to take your hands off me, I’m going to say it with my blaster, so if I were you, I’d get lost.”

Tamora shrugged out of the grip of the man who had been harassing her for the last several minutes, an overly muscled fighter from the boxing game across the way. She had come out to Dance Dance Revolution with Felix, who had been quickly swept up by Mario and the rest of his troupe. When Felix excused himself to say hello to his friends, Tamora’s offender seized his opportunity, swooping in to make his desire known. She had hoped to avoid causing a scene, but the burly man couldn’t seem to take a hint. She had just started to reach for her weapon when Felix came up from behind her, strolling confidently up to her tormenter despite the fact that he was nearly four times Felix’s height.

“I believe she’s made it clear that she’s not interested,” he said coolly.

Assuming that to be the end of their conversation, Felix turned on his heel and attempted to usher Tamora away. However, it appeared that the boxer had more to say.

“What are you supposed to be, her little pet?” he said, his booming laugh carrying over the noise of the dance floor.

“Just ignore it,” Tamora mumbled, hoping to get them out of the game without causing any commotion.

Felix was perfectly content to go along with Tamora’s plan to leave quietly until the man spoke once more.

“Good luck, pal, you won’t get very far with such a bitch.”

He certainly couldn’t ignore that. Looking back over his shoulder, Felix tried his best to remain calm as he questioned their antagonist.

“What did you just say?”

“I said you don’t stand a chance with a bitch like her.”

His blood boiled, and he felt his face burning red with rage. Turning around, he stormed back up to the wrestler with a fire in his eyes.

“I’m going to give you one chance to take back what you just said and apologize to her,” he said, breathing heavily as anger coursed through his veins.

“Or what? You gonna hammer me to death with that little golden toy of yours?” he asked, reaching down to nudge Felix’s prized hammer. “Or does that tramp really think she can take me on?”

“Oh, I’ll show you what this hammer can--”

The unmistakable sound of Tamora’s blaster being fired rang out, casting a suffocating silence over the room. Felix turned to see her aiming it toward the ceiling, glaring down at him before turning her fiery gaze to the offending character, whose face had gone pale.

“Don’t ever come near us again or next time I aim directly for your head,” she spat.

Tamora reached for Felix’s hand and walked quickly out of the game and into the tunnel, dragging him along behind her. When they finally came to a stop, Felix was confused; was she angry at him?

“Tammy, did I do something wrong?” he asked.

“Why couldn’t you just let me handle it?”

“I couldn’t just stand there and let him say those things about you,” he explained. “I had to step in. Isn’t that the sort of thing boyfriends are supposed to do?”

“Not when their girlfriend is a space marine,” she shot back, her voice rising in volume. “I could have dealt with that myself and we both know it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you should have to,” he replied. “I saw him bothering you and I didn’t like it. Why is it a bad thing that I stood up for you?”

“Because I don’t need you or anyone else standing up for me,” she answered, growing increasingly frustrated as their conversation continued.

“So what, was I supposed to just watch him put his hands all over you?” he asked, his voice matching hers in volume.

“You could have just left it alone and walked out of the game with me when I wanted to leave,” she responded. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, but now everyone in that game thinks I’m some kind of gun-crazy lunatic.”

“Nobody forced you to fire off that blaster,” Felix pointed out.

“You know as well as I do that he would have pummeled you into the ground if I hadn’t stopped it,” she said.

“I like to believe I’m stronger than you think, but regardless, I would’ve taken that beating for you,” he said, desperately trying to get through to her.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t need you trying to protect me?”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m going to step in when I see fit?” he replied, almost shouting at this point. “I know you like to handle these things on your own, but I can’t apologize for saying something when I saw you being blatantly disrespected like that.”

“What do I have to do to get it through your head that I can take care of myself?” she grumbled, towering over Felix.

“I know you can,” Felix answered, throwing his arms up in exasperation. “But don’t you want someone else to take care of you every now and then?”

“What does it matter?” she barked. “I told you I can defend myself, why can’t you just accept that and move on?”

“Because I love you!” he yelled.

His confession echoed through the empty tunnel, and the looks of anger on their faces quickly gave way to shock as his words sank in. They stood frozen for a moment, their breathing still somewhat labored in the aftermath of their fight. Felix inhaled deeply, preparing himself to speak again.

“I love you, Tamora. That’s why I can’t just watch when I see someone treating you badly,” he said calmly.

Tamora remained still, and Felix stepped forward and reached up for her hands.

“You’ve already been through so much, you don’t deserve to have to put up with some gross stranger hitting on you or insulting you,” he said. “You spend all day fighting. I want you to be able to put your armor down and relax when we’re together.”

Felix gently tugged on her hands, and she knelt down in front of him. He smiled, his eyes glassy, as he tucked her bangs behind her ear.

“I don’t step in to defend you because I think you can’t do it yourself. I do it because I don’t think you should have to,” he explained. “I just want to take care of you. Although it was probably foolish of me to try and take on someone so big.”

“Yes, it was,” Tamora replied, finally breaking her silence. “And I couldn’t stand by and watch him hurt you. I had to stop him because I love you, too.”

“Really?” Felix asked, a few tears streaming down his cheeks. “You mean it?”

She nodded, and they shared a smile before leaning in for a kiss. When they pulled away, they rested their foreheads together, soaking in the moment.

“I'm sorry, Tammy,” Felix said. “I should’ve just listened to what you wanted.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry at you for doing something so sweet,” she replied.“...Even if it was stupid and dangerous.”

They chuckled, sharing another kiss.

“Oh, I love you,” Felix sighed contentedly.

“I love you, too,” she replied. “Now, what do you say we head back inside and enjoy the rest of our night?”

“I don’t know, I think he’s still in there,” Felix answered, nervous to face the boxer again.

“So?” Tamora responded. “Tell you what, if he tries anything, you can lecture him about respecting women for as long as you want and I’ll shoot him with my blaster when you’re done.”

Felix laughed and took her hand as she stood up and began walking back through the tunnel.

“Sounds like a plan.”

#hero's cuties #wir fanfiction #wreck it ralph #fix it felix #sgt calhoun #my fic #this is the thing i started before???during???my nap last night #it's very cliche and i'm not sorry

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heather1815 · 5 years

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My little test subject: Chapter 15

Chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, chapter 12, chapter 13, and chapter 14

Angsty Tomtord fic with slight Paultryk on the side.

Warning! This fic contains: Foul language, scenes of torture, use of medical tools, drug use, self-harm, suicidal tendencies, violence, self-neglect, blood, and a little bit of stockholm syndrome and force feeding. Viewer discretion is advised.

A cold bitter wind swept over the town like an icy wave. Patches of snow covered the streets and sidewalks, glittering under the sunlight. Cars roared up and down the roads spewing fumes into the air; visible by the contrast in temperatures.

Exiting the department store, Eduardo breathed out an exasperated sigh; releasing a puff of steam into the air.

He absolutely hates to be away from work for long periods of time, but Mark had insisted they go out shopping together today. Eduardo didn't mind too much at first, seeing as how he is running low on basic goods and needs to replenish his stock.

Loud chattering following close behind him elicited a tired groan from Eduardo, and he kept on moving.

"Wowie! I can't believe I never considered getting a membership here – this store has absolutely everything! And for such a cheap price too!" Matt exclaimed joyfully as he walked out of the store alongside Mark, carrying shopping bags on both hands.

Eduardo rolled his eyes and frowned. He couldn't understand Mark's logic of inviting the ginger doofus to tag along with them. Hadn't they agreed to only make peace with their neighbours? Why is Mark being so friendly towards the airhead?

If Eduardo had to make a hunch; he'd suspect Mark was just happy to find someone with shared interests to hang out and go shopping with. Now that they are no longer rivals, it seems that the two narcissists have found each other like in those lame soul mate romance novels and saw how much they got in common.

Of course, if Mark wants to go ahead and be pals with their neighbour, he is more than free to do so. Especially since Eduardo doesn't have to allow or forbid anything in his life. But does Mark have to try and involve him on it constantly?

He tuned out their voices as they continued on their way home.

Matt jovially laughed at their shenanigans. He'd been spending more time with the duo over the past week. Ever since they made peace, Matt looked forward to their next "self-care" session. Eduardo is still pretty terrifying and he doesn't stick around for very long for Matt to really interact with him; but Mark just naturally clicks with him. It's nice to have someone who understands you.

"Anyways, how is Edd doing?" Mark inquired Matt after their laughter died down. "I don't believe I've seen you two together once since we moved in."

At the question, Matt's stomach tightened and he avoided the blond's gaze; searching for something to say. "Edd is... fine, I guess." He mumbled. "He's been pretty busy lately, so I haven't seen him as much as I used to."

"Well, sounds an awful lot like a certain someone that I know." Mark shot a pointed glare at Eduardo, who walked a pace ahead of them and merely huffed in response to the comment.

Worry jabbed Matt's chest as he reflected back on his current predicament with Edd. His first and brief meeting with Reagan haunted him. He can't shake the notion that there is something deeper going on. He gave a lot of thought to this situation to find the best way to go about this without upsetting Edd, and in the end, Matt decided he'll talk to the brunet as soon as he can.

Doubt gnawed away at him. I just need to play it cool – act natural! Matt reasoned nervously the closer to home he got. Edd won't suspect anything if I'm laid back.

His thoughts came to a crashing stop when his feet suddenly slipped on the icy ground as they were crossing the street, and Matt fell forward. Letting out a startled yelp, he instinctively raised his arms out in front of his face as the ground neared. "Ah! Not the face!" However, a hard tug on the back of his coat quickly put an end to his fall.

Matt looked up wide-eyed as he was hauled back to his feet, and realized that it was Eduardo who saved him from a nasty fall.

"Watch your step, dumbass!" The burly brunet scolded.

Gratitude flooded through Matt and he nodded fervently. "Y-yes! Thank you, Eduardo!" He squeaked, shrinking back a little out of fear. Please don't punch me! He closed his eyes and begged silently.

But Eduardo simply released his hold on him and walked away. Matt blinked in surprise. He's amazed that he hadn't received a punch yet, not even once since he started hanging with the duo. Eduardo hasn't so much as raised a fist at him so far. That gave Matt comfort, though he's still pretty weary of him.

He continued to chat with Mark for the reminder of their journey home, talking about more beauty tips and things they could do together.

"I guess I should start getting dinner ready, huh?" Mark spoke up, looking down at his watch as they climbed the steps to the hallway of their home. "Since it's pretty cold today, how about we have a good ol' beef stew?" He suggested.

"Sounds good to me!" Eduardo agreed. Being so busy with his work and having no culinary skill whatsoever, it's times like this he really appreciates his companion's wonderful cooking ability.

"You are invited to join us if you want, Matt." Mark continued, turning to address the ginger next to him. Eduardo resisted the temptation to roll his eyes and groan in frustration.

"Oh! Thank you!" Matt sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "I'll just… I think I will check on Edd first, and see how he is doing."

Mark nodded in understanding. "No problem. It will be a while before dinner is ready, but I'll leave my door unlocked for you!"

"Good! Guess I can take this chance to get back to work while we wait-"

Eduardo was about to stalk off to his own apartment when his ear was grabbed and pulled back abruptly by none other than Mark.

"Oh no you don't!" The blond man admonished. "You're not getting away so easily this time, Eduardo! I already let you off the hook last time and I had to set everything up by myself. But today you're going to help me prepare dinner!"

"Ow! Are you mad?" Eduardo exclaimed indignantly, trying to pull away. "Do you want me to set the food on fire?"

Mark huffed as he dragged the protesting brunet by the ear to his apartment. "Don't be so dramatic! It's high time you learned how to cook anyway."

Matt giggled as he watched the pair argue. They seem angry at each other, but he knew this quarrel was entirely good-natured. Mark and Eduardo have the tendency to get into a lot of arguments with each other for the littlest things; but they never escalate to dangerous levels.

When they had gone, Matt quickly put away his shopping bags aside, and padded up to Edd's apartment door. "Edd?" He called out and knocked. "Are you there? I'd like to talk to you." He pressed his ear against the door.

"Come in!"

Hearing the muffled cheery greeting through the door gave Matt hope. He must be in a good mood today!

At the invitation, Matt walked right in. The room was bright, the curtains drawn back to let sunlight filter through. Seated in the dining table, Edd leisurely sipped a mug of coffee with a steaming plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast in front of him. Ringo weaved her way around the chair, tail held high as she rubbed against her owner's leg.

"Hey Matt!" Edd smiled and waved tiredly.

Mirroring her owner's voice, Ringo meowed a particularly loud greeting as well; melting Matt's heart. But he did not gush over her for long, as his gaze settled on the contents on the table.

"Hey! Uh, are you… having breakfast right now?" Matt couldn't help but ask, confusion evident in his voice. It's nearly four in the afternoon, for crying out loud!

Edd chuckled. "Yeah. I woke up a little while ago." He broke off into a yawn. "I came home later than usual last night."

The brunet seems so upbeat as he scarfed down his meal. Matt can't recall another moment as of late where Edd behaved like his old self. This was how he used to look, back when there were three of them; for a while, after Tom's death, Matt had been afraid that this Edd had vanished forever.

Upon closer look though, Matt realized there were dark bags under Edd's eyes. Sensing his stare, Edd blinked back at him. "What is it?" He asked, words muffled by a mouthful of food.

"Were you out with Reagan last night by any chance?" Matt asked.

"Yup!"

"But I thought you only went out with Reagan on Wednesdays and Saturdays?" Matt inquired, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He is pretty sure yesterday was a Tuesday.

"I do. But apparently a client of Reagan's or something cancelled their plans together, and he invited me to hang out instead." Edd explained calmly, taking another bite out of his meal.

Pulling out a chair for himself, Matt sat down next to him; remembering his own advice of playing it cool. Since they're on the topic of Reagan, he might as well just go with the flow from here. Matt took a deep breath. "So… who exactly is this Reagan fellow anyway?"

He looked down at his hands nervously, bracing himself for Edd's humour to drop – thinking perhaps he overstepped his boundaries in asking. But when Matt looked up again, there was nothing in his friend's eyes except for intense interest.

"Reagan… well, he's an… interesting guy." Edd began coolly. "To be honest, I am not entirely sure what he does. But he is staying in town for a little while." He paused to take a sip of his coffee. "He doesn't know his way around the place, so he asked if I could be his guide during this period, and I said yes."

Matt thought over his words carefully. "Oh so… this isn't a permanent thing then?"

"Haha no." Then Edd's expression darkened as realization dawned on him. He had been having so much fun going out with Reagan, he hadn't considered that the Irishman isn't going to stick around town forever. What will he do when the time comes to say goodbye? "No I… I guess not." He muttered dejectedly, his posture sagging.

Sensing his sudden shift in humour, Matt panicked; desperately searching for a new topic to change to before things go downhill. But his mind was running so fast he couldn't think of anything appropriate to say or do. What do I do?

"Mrrrow!"

Coming to his rescue, Ringo hopped onto her owner's lap and peered at the food intently. Edd laughed, running his hands through her soft tabby fur. "Why you cheeky little thief! You've been eyeing my breakfast this whole time, haven't you?" He teased, blocking the food out of Ringo's sight. She mewed indignantly and tried pawing his hand aside. "Don't be so edgy! I just filled your food bowl. It's over there if you're hungry."

Matt laughed as the brunet placed the cat back on the ground. Thank you, Ringo!

"Anyway, what have you been up to?" Edd asked casually.

"Oh, nothing much honestly." Matt confessed, leaning back on his chair. "I haven't added anything new to my collection of trinkets in quite a while now. I've been hanging around Mark and Eduardo a lot lately. And there isn't anything new to watch on Webflick either-"

"Wait, what?"

Matt went rigid with alarm. Had he been too laidback? "What?" He echoed in confusion.

"You've been hanging with Mark and… Eduardo?" Edd spoke the last name with a mixture of venom and disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah?" Matt still wasn't sure what the big deal is. "I already told you they don't plan to bother us anymore."

Edd frowned. "And you believed them? I thought you knew better than that by now, Matt." His words caused a twinge of hurt within the orange-haired man, making him wince. "I mean, I can kinda understand you and Mark getting close; being vain and all that. But Eduardo? Really?"

Matt felt as if something massive got lodged in his throat. This wasn't how he had intended their talk to go. "They're not so bad." He began defensively, shifting around in his seat with clear discomfort. "I don't get to interact with Eduardo all that much, I will admit. But he hasn't done anything so far, and Mark is actually a really smart guy! They even invited me to have dinner with them – why don't you come join us for once? I think if you just try and give them a chance, you might find yourself warming up to them too."

But Edd wasn't so easily convinced. "Are you kidding? Eduardo and I in the same room? That's just asking for trouble!"

"It really isn't!" Matt insisted, frustration welling up inside of him. He so desperately wanted this arrangement to work. Maybe then Edd wouldn't need to keep going out with Reagan. "Eduardo won't even so much as glance at you; he's far too busy worrying about his mysterious job to say or do anything."

Sighing in defeat, Edd closed his eyes and leaned back on his chair. For a couple heartbeats, neither of them spoke. Then Edd turned to face him again. "Fine. I will... consider what you said."

Matt smiled, his heart fluttering with hope.

"But as for today, I think I will have to decline the invitation."

"What? Why?"

Edd stretched his arms. "I just woke up! I want to get some commissions done before I go out tonight."

"You mean… you're heading out with Reagan again?" Matt stared at him, huge eyed with dismay.

"Yup!" His friend drank the reminder of his coffee, none the wiser to the ginger's concerns. "I mean, I can't just say no now - Reagan is expecting me to meet him today. We'll probably eat junk food somewhere and get drunk-"

"I think you're making a big mistake, Edd!"

A voice suddenly exclaimed, and Matt realized with horror that it had been him. He slapped a hand over his mouth. His concern must have driven out all thoughts of being tactful, or of not upsetting Edd in the process. But it's too late to take it back now.

Edd stiffened and stared back at him through narrowed eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Matt took a deep breath. "About Reagan." He confessed, ducking his head nervously.

"And what makes you say that?" Edd sounded as calm as ever.

Gulping, Matt hesitated and shifted on his seat. It seemed clear that blurting out his suspicions the way he did hadn't been exactly the most sensible way to go about it. But I can't stop now. I have to tell him what I think!

Edd waited in silence. Matt couldn't tell what was running through his mind. "I am not… entirely sure. But when I met him I just didn't feel right about him." He went on, nervously aware that it was too late now to change his mind. He really regrets not having rehearsed this conversation prior this talk now. "There's something undeniably off about him – I can't exactly put a finger on it."

"So I'm supposed to take your word for it just because you have a bad feeling about him?" Edd asked, his voice still deceptively calm, contrasted with his rigid posture and glaring eyes. "No offence, Matt, but you only met Reagan for a total of two minutes. It's not exactly enough to judge a person's whole character off of."

"I know, I know! But I can't shake this impression that Reagan might be up to no good; and that you might have some part to play in it somehow." Matt continued. "Don't you think it's a tad strange to spend so much time around someone you hardly know? You don't even know what he does for a living! For all we know, he could be dangerous and involved in some shady business."

As he spoke, Edd began to look troubled, narrowing his eyes so that only the faintest sliver of brown showed in his eyes. He let out a long sigh. "I can see how in your point of view Reagan could be seen as suspicious." He murmured. "We haven't gone in any adventures for a while. Heck, I believe this might be the first time we've actually sat down and talked to one another. But there's no need for you to be jealous."

"Jealous?" Matt parroted incredulously.

"I see now that I have been ignoring you for a while, and I'm very sorry for that. I promise I'll make it up to you soon." Edd went on as if he'd never spoken. "But you don't need to hold it out against Reagan. He's a real swell guy!"

Matt blinked, incapable of believing what he was hearing. Could it be true his suspicions had been only conjured up by his envy towards Reagan? He literally has nothing else going against the Irishman but his first impression of him. Aside from that one time, he knows nothing about him. Who is he to judge? It is true that Matt misses spending time with Edd just like they used to. He supposed Edd did have a good reason to think he is jealous.

A twinge of apprehension flickered in Matt's belly as he remembered the look in Reagan's eyes when he and Edd had walked out the door. Those vibrant green eyes had glowed with mirth and something akin to triumph, Matt is sure of it. His gut was telling him that the Irishman should not be trusted, and he must somehow convince Edd of that, for the sake of his safety.

"You've… changed, Edd. I feel as if you're not the same person anymore. Truth be told, I'm having a hard time confiding you with anything because… I- I'm- I am always afraid of how you're going to react." He ventured. "We've only just started getting over our grief and get back on our feet when this guy shows up out of nowhere. Don't you think that's even a little bit odd?"

Edd looked up at that; his eyes trained forward with interest. For a heartbeat Matt hesitated to continue sharing his concerns about Reagan, but his determination to keep his friend safe gave him the courage to go on.

"I know I may not be the most reliable person you can count on. I forget things quite often, I'm clumsy, I mess up a lot – believe me, I get it. But we've been friends for a really long time now; so much so that we are practically family at this point." Matt didn't dare mention how short their already small family has become, and simply moved on. "We've been through adventures and hardships together, travelled through thick and thin and to hell and back again – literally! We trust, confide, and look out for each other no matter what! I don't have any definitive proof, but I just know for a fact there is something suspicious about Reagan. I… I don't want to lose you too! Please trust me, Edd; I really think you should stop seeing him. I sense something bad is going to happen if you don't." He gazed at him imploringly.

For a few heartbeats he thought Edd had not heard him, he was so still. Then he pushed his chair back and rose from his seat, staring at him with a stone cold expression. "And you fully expect me to stop meeting Reagan altogether just on the assumption that you have bad vibes about him?"

Matt blinked. "I just thought—"

"This isn't what I expect from you, Matt!" Edd growled. His usually warm eyes glittered like ice. "You would do better to mind your own business than to come here telling tales about Reagan." He studied him for a long moment. "Don't you trust me to take care of myself?"

"I—I'm sorry!" Matt stammered. "But I thought I should tell you the truth."

Edd let out a long breath. All the interest he had shown before had vanished, leaving his expression cold and remote. "Go." He ordered. "I'll talk to you later. And never—never— mention this to me again. Do you understand?"

Matt stood up wearily and began backing out of the room. "But what about Reagan? He—"

"Just go away!" Edd spat the command.

Wincing, Matt's feet scrambled against the wooden floor in his haste to obey. Once out of the apartment and closing the door behind him, Matt came to rest when he had put a good distance between himself and Edd. He felt utterly bewildered. At first Edd had seemed prepared to listen to him, but as soon as he suggested he should stop seeing Reagan, he had refused to hear any more.

A sudden chill swept through Matt. For a short time, Matt had let himself hope that he could make Edd understand how dangerous the Irishman could be.

God damn it! He thought. Now he won't hear another word against Reagan. I blew it!

Confused and unhappy, Matt made for Mark's apartment, almost unconsciously. Like the blond man had promised, he kept the door unlocked for him, and Matt walked in dejectedly. While Mark worked on the stove, Eduardo was busy cutting vegetables. There were several ingredients gathered in front of him.

"See how easy it is? I told you could manage!" Mark nudged his partner encouragingly, eying Eduardo's progress with approval as the brunet handed him a portion of sliced carrots to add to the stew. Mark wore a frilly white apron as he cooked. "Honestly, you were so stiff at first it was like you were genuinely expecting the vegetables to spontaneously combust or something!"

Eduardo grumbled under his breath and obediently continued slicing more vegetables.

Matt numbly stood there and watched them for a moment without speaking. He felt sad, drained after the quarrel with Edd. He couldn't help wishing it were Edd and Tom here cooking together instead of Mark and Eduardo.

Choking down his anguish, Matt offered to set up the table; hoping to take his mind off things and move on with his day.

(Meanwhile…)

Soft snores echoed faintly throughout the room as Tom peacefully dozed off, a book sprawled over his chest, Tomee bear clutched close in one arm, and a dribble of drool trickled from the corner of his mouth. The door to his quarters slides open with a hiss, and a shadow falls over Tom's unconscious form.

Nearing the bed where his test subject laid, Tord paused to study him. Look at this lazy ass motherf#cker. He snickered quietly, watching the steady rise and fall of Tom's chest. He'd come to escort Tom to his soldier training, only to find the eyeless man in the middle of a nap instead.

Any other day, Tord wouldn't think twice about jolting Tom awake to get on with their schedule for the day. Tord is a busy man, after all. However, looking down at Tom's relaxed expression as he slept, Tord's features softened and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He's so… cute!

Tord shook his head to clear away the intrusive thoughts. What am I saying? I am the Red Leader for goodness sake! I can't think like this.

Deciding to get this over and done with before his thoughts can betray him once more; Tord hastily adjusted the settings on his mechanical arm. The repulsor on the palm of his hand switched to a speaker, and Tord chose the 'air horn' setting.

Lifting his hand close to Tom's unsuspecting face, Tord grinned. Just like old times.

He braced himself and blasted the obnoxiously loud air horn noise through the speakers in his hand. Tom instantly shot up from his bed in alarm, falling off the side of the bed with wide eyes as he whipped his head around wildly.

"Wha- what?! What's happening?!" He asks panickedly, still bleary from sleep.

Tord couldn't help but burst into laughter at the Brit's dazed reaction. Tom's gaze finally fell on him, and putting the pieces together he glared at the Norsk.

"Rise and shine, soldier!" Tord grinned.

"What the f#ck, Commie?" Tom scrambled to his feet, clearly irritated by his rude awakening. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, especially not without the Dreamcatcher device, but this was still a pretty awful way to wake up to.

The Norsk stared at him in amusement and chuckled. "Somebody's cranky."

"And somebody needs to shut f#ck up." Tom fumed.

"Oh come now, Thomas; don't be so offended." Tord soothed, programing his arm back to the repulsor. "It if makes you feel any better, I play this exact same trick on Paul and Pat when they think they can sleep in!" Before they moved in to the same quarters, that is. "Now come, we have training to do."

Tom caught up with Tord as he headed for the long corridor and fell in step behind him. "Will Paul and Pat be joining us?"

Tord replied without looking back. "I've ordered them to help ensure that everything is top notch with the rest of the base. It's going to be just you and me."

Tom's heartbeat quickened and he gulped at the notion of being left alone with Tord. If something were to go wiry between them – and it very well could, given their relationship – there won't be anyone to help Tom if Tord decides he's had enough. Tom will just have to tread carefully from here on out. In theory, Tord won't hurt him unless he is provoked; so as long as Tom reframes from doing stupid sh#t he should be safe.

"What do you mean? Isn't that our end goal? ~" The voice pointed out with a scornful hiss, trailing a set of sharp fingertips teasingly along the side of his throat. Tom winced. "So what if it comes sooner? I say you mock him to your heart's content and just spill out everything you ever wanted to tell him right to his face before he pulls the trigger. ~"

Right, because that's not f#cking suspicious at all. Tom retorted dryly despite the fact that the voice's nails were digging into the flesh of his neck; drawing blood. He could feel the warm liquid tickling down onto his shirt but Tom elected to ignore it. This won't be the first time today that the voice will shed his blood. Even it isn't real. I have to play it cool. One wrong move and Tord could very well decide that any threat over my life won't be enough for my cooperation. Besides, not even Tord's anger management issues will be enough for him to lose all reason and kill me.

He heard the voice tsk in distaste. "Excuses, excuses… you'll run out of them sooner or later, but it will be far too late for you then. When that happens…I will be there to remind you of your place. ~" Tom could sense the voice grin against the back of his neck right before a set of claws scored down his back in a quick motion; from the base of his neck all the way down to his waist. Tom whimpered and the voice disappeared, its foreboding warning still ringing inside his head.

Returning to reality, Tom and Tord walked together along the large hallways of the lab level. Tom's mind raced as he shot quick glances in Tord's direction. This will be the second training session he's having with Tord; and if things weren't awkward enough before, they are definitely so now after their chat in the test room. What does he have in store for me this time? By the time they reached the training room, Tom's nerves were skyrocketing but he succeeded in maintaining his expression nulled.

They made their way across the immense gym toward the fighting ring that stood elevated just a meter above the ground. Tom followed Tord as he climbed the small steps leading into the ring and jumped over the railing into the cushioned arena.

"Now Tom, as a soldier it is important for you to be prepared for anything. Everything counts in the battlefield and you must be ready to face it." Tord explained as he strolled to the centre. "You can't be expected to rely solely on anything else aside from your own wits." He went on, turning to face him. "Depend too much on your gun, and when you find yourself without it you'll be done for. Like I said; anything can happen. Run out of ammo, get disarmed, captured, yatta yatta you get the idea." Tord raved on, twirling the fingers of his robotic hand in a dismissive gesture. "And sure, you'll be fighting alongside the rest of my army, but that's still no excuse to slack off. Teamwork may be key, but don't be surprised when you have to fend for yourself at some point."

Tom began to tune Tord out as his vision darkened once more. He whined as the all too familiar sensation of sharp digits grabbing hold of his shoulders made itself known to him.

"You hear that? Don't depend on anyone else. ~" The voice cooed mockingly into his head. "You are on your own. If you can't do things by yourself, don't bother asking help from others. You'll merely burden them more. ~"

"I want to concentrate on your fighting skills, and I want you to concentrate on them too—which means no distractions." Tord continued, pacing back and forth in front of Tom, emitting an air of authority to him.

"No one cares about you other than what you possess. ~" Whispered the voice, another set of phantom hands wrapping around Tom's waist while one sharp digit trailed his jawline and another pierced the flesh of his cheek. "If it weren't for the valuable serum currently running through your veins, believe me, people would not bat an eye if you were gone. As they should! ~"

Sudden movement flashed right in front of him. A blur of blue and red whirled past his nose, and Tom fell backwards as his feet were knocked lightly from underneath him. He landed flat on his back over the cushioned mats of the ring. Before Tom could get a chance to properly recover from the blow, the wind was knocked out of him by a heavy boot pinning him down over his ribcage. Gritting his teeth in irritation, Tom glared upwards to see Tord towering calmly over him. "Do I have your attention now?" He growled, although his one visible eye sparked with mirth.

Blinking, Tom realized what had just occurred and composed himself. "Yeah, you got me. Now let me up!"

Tord pursed his lips, as if genuinely considering the idea. "I'll let you up, if you address me properly." He smirked.

Rolling his non-existent eyes, Tom grumbled. Tord leaned downwards while simultaneously increasing the pressure of his boot over Tom's ribs. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Mind speaking up a little bit more?"

Clenching his eyes shut, Tom hissed at the building pain in his lower abdomen. At least the Commie managed to shut the voice up. He acknowledged, before sighing in defeat. "Sorry, Sir! It won't happen again, sir!" Tom growled hastily, glaring into his gray eye.

Satisfied with his answer, Tord lifted his boot off and stepped back. "That's better." The Norsk murmured, watching Tom stagger to his feet. "As I was saying; Thomas, you have been with us for many months now. Although you were never directly involved with any of the army's activities, you are no stranger to this type of environment." He commented, referring to their little adventure in the army countless years ago. Ah, the fond memories! "You have had some fighting experience; you are familiar with guns and… other weapons." Tord's voice slightly lowered, and Tom did not need to be a genius to know what he was implying with that remark. "Not to mention that you are quite clever and agile… when you want to be, that is."

Tom crossed his arms and stared at him deadpanned. "Are you going to keep on babbling or are you getting somewhere with all of this?"

He received a cuff to the back of his head for his snarky comment. It didn't really hurt, since Tord used his organic hand – it's more of a reminder to keep quiet and listen when the leader is talking. But Tom found himself rubbing the sore spot with a frown regardless.

Shaking his head, Tord tutted. "Patience is a virtue, Thomas. A virtue you unfortunately do not possess an abundance of." He went back to pacing. "Where was I? Oh yes! You are quite the formidable opponent when put in the right circumstances. But one day you will meet an opponent who is all of these things as well, and perhaps so much more – quick, fierce and clever." Tord noted, his voice lowered to an intense hiss. "And it is my duty as your leader and mentor to prepare you for that day."

Tom nodded, surprised to find himself so caught up on the Norsk's words. It's not in any way normal to hear Tord compliment him; and gathering from past experiences, Tom knows this doesn't usually end well for him. Tom's senses were fully alert, and on guard.

"Show me how well you fight." Tord ordered. "Attack me. Try to pin me down."

Tom blinked. Usually he would be static at the chance of punching Tord's stupid smirk and face in, just to payback for all the sh#t he pulled. But Tom couldn't help but hesitate, his fingers curling into fists in a repeating motion. There's something undeniably suspicious about this.

"Really? Just like that?" Tom raised an eyebrow sceptically.

"What else is there to it? A kiss on the cheek for good luck?" Tord argues, shrugging with indifference. He then smirks. "I didn't realize you would be so scared of going up against a half blind amputee, Thomas."

"Shouldn't you begin by teaching me some basic moves? Jumping straight to fighting seems really out of left field!" Tom tries to reason.

"I'm sorry, which one of us runs an army?" Tord remarked with a chuckle. "We both know you are not defenceless, Thomas. Before I can start teaching you I would like to see what level your skills are right now, so that I may pick up from there. No point wasting time teaching you things you already know." He explained coolly.

Seeing no other way out of this, Tom scoffed and rolled his non-existent eyes. He decided not to give Tord the benefit of seeing him flustered and just get this training session over with as soon as possible.

Narrowing his eyes and getting into focus, Tom analysed Tord's form, sizing him up and wondering the best way to go about this. Tord wasn't much bigger than himself; but what the Norsk lacks in height he makes up for it in muscle, surely. Nearly ten years leading an army – Tord can't possibly be weak.

Tom's mind flashed back to the incident when in a fit of rage he'd ripped out Tord's eye patch and invoked the Norsk's wrath. Perhaps because at the time Tom had been so weak and malnourished, but Tord definitely isn't someone he ought to mess with.

With that in mind, it would be a waste of effort to begin with mere punches and wrestling. The next best thing Tom could think of would be to aim for one side. But which one? Tord may be blind on his right side, but Tom isn't foolish enough to think that the Norwegian man would let himself be open to attacks with such a weak spot being exposed. Not to mention that his right has the deadly, metallic hand; currently flexing his fingers with anticipation and making faint whirring sounds.

"Today if possible, Thomas." Tord teased, taking notice of the Brit's clear discomfort and frustration as he could practically read his every move.

Grumbling a low growl, Tom shifted his attention to the Norsk's left side. Looks simple enough, aside from the aforementioned muscle strength. But here's the thing; would Tom rather be hit with a very probable painful punch to his face from a hand made out of flesh and bones, or from a robotic fist made out of hard metal and steel?

"What's this? ~" The voice returned to haunt him. "Afraid of a little pain? ~" Tom could practically feel it grin right up against his ear, and he suppressed a shudder.

Ignoring the voice's sharp claw-like nails grazing over his injured back, Tom focused his attention back to training. Perhaps if he could trick Tord into going a certain direction, while aiming for the other one, Tom could go behind his back and unbalance him with a powerful enough blow.

With a plan set in mind, Tom braced himself. Disturbingly enough, Tord hasn't taken his silver-gray eye off him for even an instant. Tom stared back at him and dashed forward.

He pretended to aim for Tord's right, and when the Norsk tries to block his blow, Tom would divert to his left on the last minute to land a punch on his side.

But Tord was more than ready for him.

Rather than blocking Tom's feint attack, like he had been hoping for, Tord lashed out with his robotic hand and tried to punch him square in the face.

"What the-?!"

Tom abruptly halted, blinking in confusion and barely managing to dodge the strike. He tried to retract his steps and go the other way around, still going along with his plan, only for Tord to block his path and grab a hold of him; easily flinging him away. Tom felt he had been knocked away like a bothersome brat. He hit the cushioned floor hard and lay winded for a moment, catching his breath, before scrambling to his feet.

"What the hell?!"

"Interesting strategy." Tord commented slyly. "But you'll have to try a lot harder than that. Again!"

Getting over his initial shock, this time Tom looked at his shoulders but aimed for his legs. When Tord attacks, Tom would knock the legs from underneath him as he ducks. Tom felt a surge of satisfaction as he charged, but it turned into confusion as Tord unexpectedly sidestepped out of the way and let him skid his leg into nothing where he had stood just a heartbeat before. Tord timed it perfectly – and before Tom could catch his bearings and formulate another plan of attack, Tord landed a kick with painful precision on Tom's stomach; knocking the wind out of him.

Panting, Tom staggered backwards with a wild look in his eyes. He spotted Tord coming his way, and in his haze, succeeded in blocking a couple of punches until Tord head-butted him, and pushed him backwards. Stunned, Tom fell on his back as Tord pinned him down, squashing the breath out of him.

"Now how about you try something I won't expect, hm?" Tord hissed into his ear, climbing off him and backing away with a challenging gleam in his one gray eye.

Tom scrambled up, panting, and shook himself crossly. He hissed and charged again. Tom was determined to win no matter at what cost. But Tord is just as equally determined to not go easy on him, or let him win at all.

Tord remained absolutely still, not moving a muscle as he watched Tom get nearer. Fuming, the test subject tackled him head on and tried to use his own weight to bring the Norsk down with him. However, Tord had endured the force of the impact with his legs digging into the floor. He watched with blatant amusement, as the other man tried in vain to overpower him. He is slowly, but surely succumbing to frustration. Tord mused. He almost felt bad for Tom at this point, seriously considering going a tad bit easier on him.

Well… Almost.

Keeping one of his legs tightly secured in the ground to keep his balance, Tord twisted his other one around Tom's, and used his hands to shove him away. Tom staggered backwards, tripping over Tord's leg in the process. He tried to regain his balance last minute, to stand up and keep fighting, but Tord kneed him in the gut and he flopped heavily onto his back.

"Thomas."

Above the roaring rush of blood pulsating in his ears, Tom barely managed to hear Tord's soft voice above him. Blinking his eyes, Tom saw the Norsk extend his robotic hand out to him. Knowing he didn't have the strength to get up by himself at this point, Tom accepted the offer without complaint. Once the Brit's hand was in his mechanical one, Tord hauled him up until he was back on his legs. Still stunned and dizzy, Tom nearly fell again until Tord grasped his shoulders to keep him steady.

A hand gently grasped Tom's chin, and raised his head to make eye contact with the Red Leader. "Tom, listen to me. You're strong and quick, but you must learn to keep control of your speed and body weight so that it's not so easy for me to unbalance you."

Tom batted the hand holding his chin aside pathetically. "Isn't all this a bit too much?" He complained, still panting. "I mean, what are the chances we fight other soldiers like this? In a real war, everyone is going to be equipped with guns; at least I sincerely hope so. Also, even if we're unarmed, the other troops will surely have guns and they'll kill us way before we get the chance to get near them and do something. So, I don't know, this all seems kind of pointless to me."

Tord chuckled. "Trust me, you'll be plenty thankful to have this set of skills on you if the occasion ever arises." He continued. "It may sound silly and improbable at first, I know, but it is a training requirement for any army and I cannot just overlook it." Once he was sure Tom wasn't going to topple down if he lets go of him, Tord walked away to stand on the opposite side of the ring. "Whenever you are ready, try again."

Tom backed away; hot, sweaty, and out of breath, until he found himself leaning against the elastic ropes of the arena. Groaning in exasperation, frustration raged through him. He just wants to get this stupid training session over with, so he can go take a shower and return to his quarters for a quick nap before his dinner arrives. Now more than ever, Tom is determined to get the better of the Commie.

He took his time in recovering and made another quick observation of his opponent, searching for any weaknesses he could exploit to his advantage. Standing all the way over to the opposite side of the fighting ring, Tord was stretching his limbs, popping some of his joints in the process. Tom watched him with something akin to fascination. The Norsk looks so at ease, and confident in his abilities. Was there even a bead of sweat on his face? The long, cobalt blue coat really made Tord's overall form and shape stand out. It gave an empowering and dominating air to him, but also graceful and elegant too. Sure, Pat and Paul wear them too, but for an unknown reason Tom thought it looked a lot more appealing on Tord.

Feeling reinvigorated now, Tom snapped his mind back on track. "I'm ready now."

Tord shot him a brief glance. "Well? What you're waiting for, Thomas? An invitation?"

Narrowing his eyes at Tord's teasing comments, Tom rushed at him. The Red Leader smirked and positioned himself into a defensive stance. Once he was within proximity, Tom raised one fist and swung it towards the Norsk's left cheek. Tord ducked to avoid his strike and raised his robotic hand, ready to swipe down right onto Tom's head. Thinking quickly, Tom fell back to the ground to avoid the blow, and in one fast movement, struck his legs forward to kick Tord straight on the gut. Taken by surprise, Tord hissed as he felt all air be knocked out of him. He doubled over and staggered backwards. Tom took his chance now that the Norsk is momentarily winded, and he swiped his leg against Tord's own.

Tord was knocked down and fell back onto the cushioned floor with a grunt.

Tom flipped himself over and leaped to his feet. He felt jubilant. He observed Tord's form, lying down completely still with the exception of the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in heavily. Tom approached him, his movements sluggish from fatigue, and yet for the first time in a long while he actually felt proud of himself.

Towering over him, Tom found Tord's one visible eye glinting proudly back at him.

"That... was much better." The Norsk puffed, out of breath. Tom smirked just a tiny bit, and lends him a hand, to which Tord gratefully took. Tom heaved him up, helping Tord to his feet as he adjusted his uniform and hair. "But you forgot to pin me down. That was a mistake."

Smirk wiped away instantly, Tom got no time to react as Tord pulled him forward hard, knocking him to the ground, then retreated and let Tom pick himself up before rushing at him again. Tom braced himself for impact, but Tord bowled over him easily.

"Look at my size, Thomas! Don't try to stand up against my attack. Use your wits!" Tord instructed, pinning him down with his boot. "If you are fast enough to avoid me, then avoid me!" He stepped off.

Tom scrambled to his feet again, preparing for Tord's next attack. This time he didn't dig his heels into the cushioned floor, but stood lightly, keeping his weight on his toes. As Tord advanced toward him, he hopped neatly out of his path, and struck out a punch against the side of Tord's face, sending him spiralling onward past him.

Tord regained his footing and whirled around to face him. A sly grin on his face as he rubbed his sore cheek. "Excellent! You learn quickly." He praised with glinting gaze. "But that was an easy move. Let's see how well you deal with this one!"

Tord sprang at him, slamming into Tom's side and knocking him off his feet. Tom writhed as he was firmly pinned down by the Norwegian man. Tord's silver-gray eye stared back at him when a mischievous expression crossed his features.

No harm in teasing him a little bit, right?

"Say, does this remind you of something?" Tord purred with mock contemplation. Tom stopped struggling to look up at him in confusion.

"No? Not really?-"

He cut off abruptly when Tord deeply inhaled, his nose scrunching up and his throat rumbling. Tom froze, his eyes widening. He knows exactly what the Commie has in mind. The snicker-snag!

Back when they were teens and started living together, it was common for Tom and Tord to get into lots of petty arguments and fights to breakout between them for the littlest things. Tord especially liked to tease Tom by pinning him down and subject him to a snicker-snag; a disgusting move where he would dangle a thread of saliva over his face until it eventually falls, and slobbers him. At the time, Edd would usually come to his rescue before such fate could happen. But Edd isn't here to save him now.

With that in mind, Tom's panic kicked-in and he started to trash around wildly, trying to escape but to no avail. His struggles only escalated when Tord began to droop the bead of drool, inching closer and closer to his face. "No! No! No!" Tom screeched, shaking his head frantically as his mind went haywire the closer the strand got until he couldn't take it anymore, and simply turned his head away. Eyes clenched shut as he waited for the humiliating defeat with one last desperate scream.

But it never came.

Tord slurped the thread back before it could reach Tom, and stared down at him as he laughed. "Jesus, Tom!" He wheezed. "With the way you're screaming it sounds like I'm subjecting you to some painful torture! Not a snicker-snag!"

Tom opened one of his eyes and gazed back up at him, annoyed that he's being made fun of, but at the same time relieved Tord wasn't going to go through with it. Or so he thought, before Tord's laughter died down and he let his saliva hang from his mouth once more.

"Oh c'mon!" Tom renewed his struggles, writhing beneath Tord from side to side to try and slip away. "Since when are snicker-snags included in soldier training, for f#cks sake?!" He hoped Tord would pull the disgusting slob back up again to give some witty remark, but unfortunately Tord merely chuckled and continued his insistent teasing.

In a last desperate effort to escape this awful humiliation, Tom thrust his legs up hard into Tord's belly, successfully throwing the Norsk off of him. He miraculously managed to dodge the droplet of spit at the last second, twisted and jumped to his feet before Tord could catch him off guard.

They continued training for hours in that gym. Without even feeling the presence of time pass between the two of them, they kept sparring for the reminder of the day. They laughed and bantered through the many punches and kicks being thrown at each other, but there was no sign of animosity between them. Only competitive playfulness.

All previous thoughts of suspicion, defiance and disdain have disappeared. There is only now; Tord and him, facing each other.

"That's enough for today." Tord stopped and gathered to his feet.

Tom couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief. He's completely spent after today's workout. Though he would personally never admit it out loud, he enjoyed the training session with Tord. Mostly because it was the only chance he got to pummel his fist in Tord's face without any repercussions after holding in his anger this whole time. But there was also this underlined pleasant sensation Tom couldn't possibly ignore that manifested sometime during training.

It felt weird.

He followed Tord out of the ring. The Norsk seemed a little tired; stiff and with a slight limp but he still walked with grace. Tom fell in step next to him, panting heavily and still a little exhilarated from their training.

"Good work, Tom. You did great today." Tord began as they walked into the hallway.

Tom glanced at him and scoffed. "Yeah right! I couldn't even manage to pin you down!"

Tord chuckled. "To be fair, no one can. Maybe Paul can, but he hasn't so far. When I set the challenge for you I knew you wouldn't succeed, but I wanted to see how you would try to anyway; and just as I expected, you did not disappoint." He went on. "You get frustrated very easily and that tends to cloud your judgment when it matters, but you are a quick learner and that'll be essential for the rest of your training."

Only half-listening at this point, Tom realized something strange. He wasn't feeling the least bit tired; in fact, Tom felt quite the opposite. He feels as if he could run laps around the track all day, his feet skimming the ground as the exhilaration of speed coursed through him, and Tom had a feeling he could stand up to anything. This sensation was new and refreshing to say the least. Tom wanted more.

"Hey Tord." Tom spoke up after a few brief minutes of silence. "Am I allowed to use the gym whenever I want?"

Tord glanced back at him questioningly and hummed. "I suppose."

"Then if it's all the same to you," Tom stopped walking and glanced over his shoulder. "I think I'll head back and train a little more by myself."

Tord stared at him in surprise, and then Tom glimpsed a flicker of disappointment in the Norsk's eyes before he settled for a calm demeanour and a lazy grin. "As you wish. But don't be surprised if you get a scolding from Patrick later for overworking yourself. I practically have to put up with it every day!"

Tom forced himself to chuckle casually before whirling around and going back the way he came. Something about Tord just then unsettled him. Why did he appear disappointed so suddenly? Tord had that exact same expression at the end of their talk in the test room. It had been brief, but it was still there.

Is Tord expecting something from me? Tom couldn't help but wonder. If so, what?

(Meanwhile…)

Reagan whistled a happy little tune as he led Edd toward their destination for the night. He couldn't stop thinking back to the ginger-haired man he encountered a few days ago. It was hilarious how awfully easy it was to unsettle him, and he can't wait to play more games with him in the future. Will he be brave enough to even try? Or will he stand back and watch as I steal his friend away? Reagan snickered quietly to himself. He surely can't wait to see.

"Hey Reagan, are you sure you know where we're going?" Edd's voice cut through his musings and he glanced back at him over his shoulder. "I must admit I've never been to this part of the town before, so I am kinda blind here."

Reagan clasped a hand on his shoulder dismissively. "Don't worry. I've been to this place a bunch of times over the past few weeks – I practically know this area like the back of my hand at this point."

Edd blinked in surprise. "Really? Why?"

The Irishman hummed pensively, grinning as he fished his pocket for a cigar. "Work related stuff, mostly."

They continued walking through the suspicious looking neighbourhood. Despite Reagan's reassurance, Edd remained on high alert; his brown eyes flicking all over the place.

The buildings they passed by were old and rundown, their windows cracked or barred with wooden planks. The streets they tread in were narrow and dark with barely any light posts to illuminate the way. The farther they went the fewer cars seem to drive by the area, leaving them in an eerie silence with nothing to take its place.

It was only when a bottle shattered ominously close by their location, startling Edd so badly he visibly jumped, did he finally voice his increasing worries.

"Reagan? Are you absolutely sure this place is safe? Because I got a really bad feeling…"

Expecting to hear another reassurance to calm his nerves, Edd was completely unprepared for Reagan's response.

"Well… I said that I know this place – didn't say anything about being safe."

"What?!" Edd exclaimed only to slap a hand over his own mouth in fear of attracting unwanted attention. He grabbed Reagan by the shoulders and started shaking him in desperation. "You mean to tell me we are currently walking through a danger zone and you are okay with this? Are you mad?"

Reagan stared at him wide eyed before smirking. "This is the fastest shortcut that I know of. Plus I thought you trusted me, Eddie. I would never lead you into danger on purpose unless we didn't have any other choice. But I promise you, as long as you stick close to me, we are safe." He brushed Edd's hands off his shoulders. "Trust me."

Edd stepped back hesitantly, still unnerved by the reality of the situation. "I do trust you, Reagan. It's your judgment that worries me a little." They resumed walking. "I mean, what if we get jumped on by a mugger? Or surrounded by a gang of bandits? Or worse?"

"Calm your tits, Eddie. I'm sure we'll get through this just fine."

"You know, there's been a lot of rumours and sightings of a beast wandering the area. Well, it's been a while since the last report, but in any case, I think we should be careful-"

"Beast? Seriously?" Reagan interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Where the f#ck are we? The eighteen-hundreds? Sh#t Eddie, I forgot my pitchfork and torch at home – guess we're f#cked!"

"I'm serious! People got killed by whatever it is, and it was a huge deal a while back. It kinda became this town's version of the Mothman or Bigfoot; everyone knows about it."

"As fascinating as it sounds, I'm still confident we got nothing to worry about." Reagan eyed him curiously. "You seem to know a great deal about this case though."

"It was all over the news when it first started occurring; it's kinda hard to not pay any attention to it when it's everywhere! Besides, it's quite an interesting case." Edd half-lied.

True, he had watched the news back when everything first happened, but Edd had never given the situation much thought. He was concerned for Tom and Matt's wellbeing at the time and often cautioned them to be careful. Then there were no more news about it and Edd thought everything was all good again.

Until Tom died that is.

When Edd finally snapped out of his denial, there was a stage in his period of grief where he tried to find the culprit behind his friend's murder. During his search, Edd had stumbled upon many articles surrounding the mysterious cryptid but Edd instantly brushed it off. Not that he doesn't believe in the supernatural in any way – his adventures have more than proven their existence. But it's highly unlikely this creature had anything to do with the situation, since Tom's death did not match the description of any of the other victims. Still, didn't stop Edd from doing his research on the matter.

"But I don't think we got to worry about anything. No one's going to jump us, and if they do, I'll make them regret it." Reagan's voice cut through his thoughts, jerking him back to reality.

"How can you be so sure?" Edd prompted.

Reagan gave a low chuckle. "I got… briefed before arriving in this town. Let's just say I know exactly what I am dealing with." He then paused, his tone taking a serious turn. "But I can't guarantee your safety if you decide to come here on your own for whatever reason. So I advise you to stay clear from this area when I'm not with you, or you're going to get beaten to pulp with an inch of your life left."

Before long they finally reached the end of the dreadful alley and left the horrid neighbourhood behind them. Edd released a sigh of relief when Reagan nudged him, prompting him to look up.

Their destination turned out to be a bowling alley. Reagan thought it would be fun if they played a few rounds and ate Chinese takeout together. Edd squinted as he took in his surroundings. The dim lighting combined with the harsh neon lights that bordered each one of the bowling tracks and walls hurt his eyes, and the obnoxiously loud pop music that blasted from the speakers didn't help matters. It genuinely feels as if they're on a rave rather than a bowling alley.

They sat in a booth on the far side, closer to the lanes and away from the other players in the establishment. While Edd busied himself on setting all their food down, Reagan went ahead and got the game started.

"And… strike!"

The blond flicked his hand forward and released the ball, flinging it across the smooth lane with such strength it thundered loudly above the blasting music. However, contrary to the Irishman's wishes, the ball dashed straight to the gutter and harmlessly passed by the pins.

Reagan frowned. "Boo! Game's rigged!"

"Tough luck." Edd chuckled, opening the last of the food wrappings.

"It's your turn now." Reagan turned to him, holding a bowling ball out for Edd to take. The brunet swallowed.

"I, uh, why don't you go ahead and play my round as well? I'm sure you can make a strike this time!" Edd suggested nervously.

The Irishman raised an eyebrow and scoffed. "That's not how this game works, Eddie." He shoved the ball into the Brit's hands. "C'mon! I'm the one paying for all this; the least you could do is try and enjoy yourself!"

Shoved closer to the lane, Edd staggered forward and approached wearily. He had never gone bowling before – In the past, Tom would forbid Edd and Matt from ever stepping foot into one of these establishments. It's not like he's here to complain now. Edd thought uneasily as he crouched into the address stance. Still feels wrong to be here playing though.

Pushing his nagging anxiety aside Edd held the ball up to his face, preparing to throw. However, as he peered at the dark holes of the ball, it appeared to shift – morphing into a face with empty eyes and spiky hair, glaring back at Edd as if scrutinizing his actions and a pang of guilt scorched through the brunet. Edd leaned closer to the apparition, yearning for the real thing to manifest out of it and change his reality from what it currently is.

"Hey Eddie, are you gonna throw the ball any time soon or are you planning on frenching it first?"

Reagan's teasing jab cut through Edd's thoughts, effectively erasing the illusion and jerking him back to reality. Blinking rapidly, Edd hastily threw the ball and watched as it went straight for the gutter.

"Yeah, sorry… I'm not very good at this game." Edd laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly as he tried to brush off his embarrassment. "I think I will just... sit down and eat instead. I'm really hungry. Maybe you should take a break too?"

Reagan stared at him intently for a couple of heartbeats before shrugging. "Whatevs, Eddie. I am gonna keep playing, if you don't mind."

However, not a minute later and Reagan called it quits when the ball went to the gutter again. They sat down on the booth and began to chow down their food and talk.

"So Reagan, what did you do before coming to this town?" Edd asked through a mouthful of food.

Reagan tsked. "You know I'm not allowed to answer that."

"Oh not work – I mean, like, life in general?" His earlier argument with Matt caused a bit of unease within Edd. He knows Reagan better than Matt does, that's for sure, but the Irishman is still as enigmatic as the day he first met him. The weight in his conscience would lessen considerably if Reagan were to shed some light into his background.

Humming deep in thought, Reagan tapped his chin repeatedly. "Not much, honestly." He took another forkful of his meal. "Just hopping from one place to another, looking for new thrills, hang around for a while before eventually moving on to the next best thing. Guess I was kind of a wanderer before settling for my job."

Edd contemplated his words. "Sounds nice, but also a bit lonely though." He stirred his food with one fork. "Don't you have a family to get back to? Or a home, or something?"

"What? And be tied down to only one place and having to depend on others all the time? Pass!" He scoffed, raising his chin. "I can't think of anything worse than being held back by others when you can accomplish so much more out of your life. I like to be free, thank you very much! I met a lot of people in my travels, and I can tell you, no one sticks around forever – and hey! Life is short! Can't afford to settle for a handful when there's a whole world ripe for the taking." He finished his speech with a wide grin on his face. "Why despair when there's a bar in every corner of the world?"

Edd opened his mouth to protest, but stopped short when Reagan reached for one of the fortune cookies. Rather than cracking one open to take the fortune from within, like you're supposed to, he simply tossed the full thing in his mouth and started chewing without a care in the world. Edd stared at him wide eyed.

"Reagan… you do know that's not how you eat fortune cookies, right?"

The Irishman stopped chewing, staring back at Edd in confusion. "What you mean?"

Flabbergasted he was actually going to have to teach such a basic concept to someone who claims to be so independent, Edd took the remaining fortune cookie and cracked it open; taking the slip of paper to demonstrate.

"Oh!" Reagan deadpanned in understanding. He stuffed his fingers inside his own mouth, poking around the mush of food inside. Edd nearly gagged in disgust and had to look away. Reagan finally pulled out the wet slip of paper from his mouth. "Blimey! You mean to tell me all these years I've been eating fortune cookies wrong? Well, this is embarrassing."

Edd chuckled half-heartedly, brushing the incident off. "So what does it say?"

Reagan unfolded his fortune to read, flicking away the bits of food clinging to it. "The greatest danger could be your stupidity." He deadpanned, earning a chortle out of Edd. "Aiight, sounds sensible enough. What about yours, Eddie?"

The brunet unwrapped the slip of paper eagerly. "All things are difficult before they are easy." His smile fell as he read the words out loud, the phrase resonating within him. It seems things are always difficult. He thought frustratedly. The image of a ginger-haired Brit smiling brightly back at him flashed in his mind, and Edd shifted in his seat uncomfortably. I shouldn't be here.

"I think I'm gonna head back home now." Edd stood up from his seat, ready to leave.

Reagan's head snapped up to look at him before he'd even finished his sentence, giving him a look; one that says he'd mistepped. Instantly, Reagan's hand shot up to grab Edd's elbow to stop him. "Whoa whoa whoa! Not so fast, Eddie." He spoke coolly. "Are you forgetting that I'm the one paying all expenses here tonight? After all the trouble of booking a place for us, you mean to tell me my money is going down the drain cuz you can't put up staying out a little bit later?

Silence descended between them like a thick fog, and stayed for a full minute as Edd contemplated his words.

"C'mon, Eddie!" Reagan grinned, tipping his head lazily to one side. "Where's your sense of adventure? Live a little!"

Edd bit his lip. He squirmed uncomfortably under that smile; it made him feel like a dull-witted child who still needs parents' permission to stay out late with his friends, and a tight knot of anxiety congealed in his stomach. Giving in with a small sigh, Edd shrank back into his seat and dropped his gaze, sipping his cola from time to time to relax.

"You know Eddie, I gotta be honest with you man, from one friend to another; but I think you might be just a little bit too uptight."

"Huh?"

"I mean, just look at your lifestyle!" Reagan motioned to the Brit's entire being. "You are an artist, hoping to strike big someday, and maybe even find yourself a fancy lady to court – or dude; I don't judge! – And you are really open with people." The blond narrowed his eyes. "And that's dangerous."

Edd stared at him, perplexed by the Irishman's way of thinking. "What do you mean?"

"Well, how many other people out there do you reckon have the same goals as you do? It's gonna be a competition, regardless if you think you got talent. Someone out there could be even better, and what will you do then?" Reagan kept going, acting composed and laid back as he delivered some harsh truths to really knock some sense into Edd's reality. "Put it this way, Eddie; you keep letting people in, you are just asking to get yourself hurt. I speak from personal experience that they will leave you in the end – one way or another."

Contemplating his ominous words, Edd couldn't help but tilt his head to one side. "Why are you telling me this?" His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion, watching Reagan tip back his head and take a massive gulp of his beer.

"Because we're friends! I thought that was obvious enough by now. I care about your wellbeing, especially since you lost a friend not too long ago, and I don't want to see you get hurt." Reagan responded as he slammed the tankard on the table, oozing confidence to back up his words. His tongue swiped around his lips briefly to clean away the foam the tasty beverage had left behind. "Those rose-tinted glasses you have on can only take you so far before it becomes too much for you to handle, so I advise you to start building some walls."

Edd drank his cola, unsure of how to respond and just letting Reagan's advice replay in his head. "Kinda bleak way of viewing the world, don't you think?" He speaks at last, a small faint smile on his face as he tries lightening the mood. "The world is pretty harsh, and life can be tough on us; but it's not all bad! There's so much more to it."

"Sometimes people die, sometimes they live, and sometimes they break apart." Reagan murmured coolly, slowly churning the beer in his glass. "In my line of work, you know, you learn the worst of humanity, and you sure don't see a lot of best to balance it out."

His sombre tone convinced Edd that he was speaking from personal experience. He felt a sharp prick of curiosity, wondering for the life of him what could Reagan's mysterious job be, but Reagan said no more, and Edd didn't feel that he could ask him about it.

Last time I asked you all on your update preference: long pause followed by weekly updates, or irregular updates like I've been doing so far. I read each and every one of your comments, but in the end the majority of you have decided on weekly updates. So after this chapter, I will take a long break and write up to 5 or 6 chapters and then start updating the story again at a later time. I will announce the return date in the next chapter! So please don't think this story is dead, cuz it's definitely not, k?

And with that, I ask you this; how much of what Reagan is saying do you believe is true?

#Tomtord #eddsworld #ew tom #ew tord #MLTS #angst #my little test subject

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