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kachikirby · 5 months

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GranEssex Chronicles: Chapter 5 - The First Mission

Three years have passed since Meta had become Kurabe's student. While he still has a long way to go before he reaches his full potential, Kurabe had deemed him ready to take on solo missions. Meta has joined her on the field before, but if he was to improve as a soldier, he needed to prove his own worth. To further discuss this, the warrior called her student to her personal office.

"Excuse me, sensei, what did you want to speak to me about?" He asked after entering the room and standing in front of her desk.

"You're going to go on your solo first mission, Meta." Kurabe replied simply.

Meta's eyes widened slightly.

"What is my mission, sensei? I assume nothing too challenging." The youth asked calmly.

Over the past three years, Meta had calmed down a bit, mostly thanks to his training. That said, the prospect of finally doing a mission by himself was exciting.

"It's nothing too difficult, of course. I had spent quite a while debating on that with Mercury, but I think I have a good one for you. You will be escorting a certain noble."

Meta narrowed his eyes upon hearing that. "I understand. Who will I be escorting and where to?"

Quickly, his mentor pulled out some notes from her desk.

"You will be escorting a nobleman named I. C. on the planet Artik."

The youth frowned. "...why do we need to escort him?"

Kurabe sighed, slightly expecting that response. "Simply put, he pays well. The Organization still requires money, so we accept jobs like these. Even if they aren't the most pleasant of missions."

Her student stared. "So, this is how you get paid..." He then sighed. "Well, I guess I should get this over with..."

"Hold on a moment, Meta. You need one more thing before you head out." She then took out a key. "Your uniform."

Meta nodded.

"Follow me. We'll go into more detail about the mission on the way to the storage room."

---------

The duo then walked out of the room.On the way to the storage room, Kurabe went into detail about the mission.

"Artik, as the name suggests, is a planet with incredibly cold temperatures. Every time I've went to Artik, there was a massive blizzard that covered the entire planet. Chances are, you will have to deal with that as well, Meta. However, that won't be the only obstacle you'll need to contend with, as Artik is home to various bandit groups who use the planets poor conditions to their advantage and attack unsuspecting victims."

Meta nodded in understanding but had a question of his own. "If Artik is such a dangerous planet, why does our client wish to go there?"

The mentor nodded at her student's question. "That's a reasonable question. The fact of the matter is that Artik is home to mining operation owned by our client. There are rare materials that can only be found on Artik. Since he owns the operation, he's required to oversee it at times."

"And that's where I'm escorting him to?"

"That's right. All you have to do is make sure arrived safely. Once he's made it, your mission will be complete."

"And this will all be easier said than done, I assume."

"The mission itself is easy, Meta. I can't say the same for anything that isn't escorting or fighting." She gave a slight sigh.

"I see... what are we going to the storage room for anyway?"

"To get you a uniform, Meta, as I already told you."

"Why do I need a uniform? Can't I just wear armor?" The student asked, looking directly at his mentor's own armor.

"Meta, believe me, I agree with you. However, it's Organization protocol for all soldier class members to wear the uniform during missions."

He then looked slightly confused. "I've never seen you wear one. Is that because you're high ranking?"

"I'm of the second highest rank. Right below the old man. I haven't been a soldier class for a long time, Meta."

He silently nodded in understanding. "Ok. I guess it'll be fine as long as I can fight in it."

Kurabe giggled at that reply. "Meta, it's a uniform designed to be fought in. Do you really think we'd give our soldiers uniforms that weren't functional?"

He stared silently. "...Mercury's uniform doesn't look too good to fight in."

"Mercury is her uniform, Meta."

"Oh..." The youth then looked embarrassed. Whether it was because he forgot such an obvious fact or something else, Kurabe wasn't sure. Well, it wasn't important enough to pry about.

"We should almost be at the storage room."

"...what color is the uniform?"

Admittedly, the warrior did not expect that kind of response from her student, who usually didn't really care for such a thing.

"The uniform is made up of a few colors. For starters, the hat you'll receive is silver. The rest of the uniform is a dark magenta and brown."

"There's a hat?"

"Yes, but generally you will only have to wear it for formal events." Kurabe then placed a hand on Meta's head. "That said, I recommend wearing it on this mission. It'll help protect you from the harsh conditions, if only for a little bit."

The youth nodded. "Sensei, when I come back, can you make something warm for me?"

"I already planned on it, Meta." She said, giving a warm smile.

"Thank you." He smiled back.

"Now then, here we are." The warrior then said while unlocking the storage room door. She then opened it and motioned for her student to follow her inside.

---------

Upon entering the storage room, Meta could tell that it was neat, but there were several boxes in it. If he was told to look for a specific item, there was no doubt that he would either not be able to find it or struggle to find it.

"Now... where is it...?" She murmured aloud as she began to look through the storage room. "Ah, here it is."

Kurabe grabbed a box and opened it. She pulled out the uniform and threw it at Meta, who just looked confused.

"...what? Do you need help putting it on?"

Her student gained an embarrassed expression as his face turned bright red.

"S-sensei, I'm old enough to dress myself!"

"Then what are you so confused about?"

"Nothing! I just wasn't expecting it to look like this." Meta admitted as he looked down at the floor.However, it was only for a short moment, as he quickly looked back up.

"That, and normally a person should be given privacy when changing clothes." He said glaring at Kurabe.

His mentor easily put that together.

"Oh, right, right. I'll be waiting outside. Let me know when you're done." She replied nonchalantly as she walked out the door.

Meta sighed after she left. "I said I could dress myself but, how does this work exactly?" He continued to stare at the uniform, trying to figure out how to put it on. There was a suit that went on the outside of his body, but there was also some sort of strap that went on the outside.

"If it's this thin, would it really be a good idea to wear in cold weather?" He thought.

"It's warmer than it looks, Meta, trust me." Meta heard Kurabe say, surprising him.

"Q-quit reading my mind, sensei!"

He then heard a slight giggle.

"Aren't you only supposed to be able to read my emotions?!"

"Remember, I mastered the ESP Ability."

The youth groaned and tried to clear his thoughts, lest Kurabe got more material to use for embarrassing him. Admittedly, it took a couple minutes for Meta to put on the uniform. What didn't help was the fact that he heard his mentor stifling a few laughs in response to his frustration.

---------

Eventually, though, he got it on correctly. Surprisingly enough, it actually was quite warm.

"Maybe there's something special about the fabric..." Meta thought as he looked in the mirror.

Not only that, but it also felt a lot more armored than he originally thought. Honestly, he was amazed by it. The youth walked out of the room and looked at Kurabe.

"Awww, look at you." She pinched his cheeks. "You look so adorable!"

Meta groaned in response. It greatly annoyed him when she acted like this.

"I'm not adorable. I'm a soldier." He protested while still being pinched.

"An adorable soldier!"

"Enough, please!" He almost shouted as he quickly took her hands away from his cheeks. "Now, when do I start my mission, sensei? In fact, where am I meeting the client?"

For a brief moment, his mentor pouted, but then she turned serious once more. "I'll get to that in a bit, why don't we show Mercury how you look?"

Meta's face turned red in embarrassment. "S-sensei do we really have to?"

She then gave a smile. "No, no, I guess she'll see it later. Forgive me, I'm just so excited since this is actually a custom uniform I ordered for you. It's a bit darker than the normal uniform for my unit."

That made the youth pause. Even after three years of living on the GranEssex, he still wasn't fully use to selfless acts of kindness from others.

"...thank you, sensei. I really like it." He uttered with a shy expression.

"Oh, I'm so glad you do. I was really worried that you wouldn't and had to ask around about it. I kept getting the same answers of "keep it to dark colors, that will look better on him" and "I'm sure he'll like it". I'm very happy I listened to-"

As if realizing that she was going completely off-topic, she cut herself off and then cleared her throat.

"Anyway, back to your mission. You will be sent off to Artik in approximately two hours, so be sure to prepare yourself for then. As for where you're meeting the client..."

Kurabe walked over to one of the windows.

"See that ship, Meta? That's where the client is. That ship will land on the planet at the same time and location as us."

Her student looked out the window to see a ship much smaller when compared to the GranEssex. "Then I'll be escorting him from wherever we land?"

"That's correct." She then took out a map and handed it to him. "Here's a map of where exactly you need to go. Also, I inscribed a magic rune to it. If the map flies out of your hand because of the wind, just flick your wrist and it'll magically reappear."

"Thank you, sensei, this will be a lot of help." He put the map in a small bag on his side next to his sword.

"I'll leave any other items you take up to you, Meta. Pack accordingly and good luck." She said with a smile.

"Alright. I'll go pack now. Thank you again." He said before returning to his room.

---------

As Meta packed in his room, he naturally began to think about this mission. He was both nervous and excited about his first mission. He was looking forward to the chance to test the skills he's learned but at the same time, he was scared of letting his mentor down. No, he had to do his best to stay calm. He was more likely to make a mistake if he was like this. Hopefully they would land soon so he could just get this done and over with.

"Now, what should I pack?" He thought to himself.

For starters, he took out an electric lamp. Thanks to his small knowledge of lightning magic, he basically had a lantern that could never run out of power.

"Hmm... maybe a few hand warmers and some rations? I don't know how long we'll be travelling." He mumbled to himself. "Oh, I know."

He opened a drawer to reveal a flare gun given him for emergency use.

"Hopefully I won't need this, but I'll take it just in case."

He then looked around the room for other equipment.

---------

After making sure he had everything he needed, Meta decided to spend the rest of his time meditating. Admittedly, he often had a hard time doing it, but it seemed like the best thing to do right now. As he meditated, he was able to properly sort his thoughts and pinpointed certain things he was worried about. Ironically, fighting off bandits and monsters didn't worry him at all. Spending an unspecified amount of time protecting a complete stranger, however, did worry him. Not only that, but he'd be doing it alone. In his mind, that was honestly the biggest danger. He let out a humorless chuckle. It was ironic. He used to live and survive on his own. Something like this shouldn't be an issue.

"Calm down, you fool. Sensei believes in you, don't screw this up..." He harshly told himself.

That's right. He shouldn't allow himself to become weak! That said, he wasn't worried about himself. He's survived through harsh conditions before. No, what he was worried about was protecting someone else, something he's never done before.

"I'll just have to eliminate any threat as fast as possible. Just remember your training." He thought to himself.

Speaking of which, how much longer until they reach the planet's surface? No, he shouldn't think about trying to rush this. Just continue to meditate and focus.

---------

Meta kept meditating for next two hours where his concentration was broken by the sound of knocking on his door.

"Meta, it's time." He heard Kurabe say.

"I'll be out in a minute." He replied.

"Make it quick. We pride ourselves on punctuality." While she was saying that, he had already walked out his door and was waiting in front of her.

"...I just had to grab my bag."

Kurabe looked at him and smiled. "You were already prepared, weren't you? I understand you're nervous, Meta. Take it from me, few things are as nerve wracking as a first mission. Now follow me."

The youth quietly nodded, slightly embarrassed at his mentor figuring that out quickly.

---------

Kurabe and Meta walked outside. Just as he was told, Artik was freezing cold, and he could barely see in front of him due to the snowy winds. Though he did see an odd object hovering off the ground not too far ahead.

"That's called a Star Chariot. It's a transportation vehicle used mostly by the rich to travel. Our client is in it." Kurabe explained.

"I see. Is that where he'll be staying for the whole journey?" He asked.

"That's right. So thankfully you shouldn't have to speak with him much."

The child then nodded. "Then... I guess I'll see you in a couple hours, sensei."

"Well, yes, but not yet. We'll speak to him together, then you'll see me in a couple hours."

"Ok then." He replied, secretly happy that he'd be talking to the client with her.

As they approached the vehicle, Meta saw a large walrus man with a silly hat and mustache step out.

"It's about time you showed up, you lousy gnats!" He said in the most holier than thou tone the youth had ever heard.

It was only a few seconds and already he did not like him.

"We were already here quite some time ago. It was your fault for not notifying us." Kurabe uttered, her red eye glare through her visor for a brief moment.

The arrogant man frowned. "It's not my responsibility to do that. Anyway..."

He stared at Meta. "You expect me to believe a mere child can protect me!?"

"Do you really want to underestimate a student of Kurabe the Unkillable?" She replied coldly.

However, Meta got the feeling that such a thing would mean nothing to this person. As expected, Mr. I. C. just scoffed.

"As if I should care about that! In the end I suppose it doesn't matter. You, boy! Get walking already!" He yelled before getting back into his vehicle.

"Understood." Meta then quickly turned to his mentor. "I'll see you later, sensei."

"Good luck, Meta. Oh, and try not to kill the client, ok?" She said in attempt to be funny.

"No promises."

However, the tone her student responded in was dead serious.

Kurabe just laughed.

"That's exactly what I said on my first escort mission." She said in a nostalgic tone.

Suddenly, her tone shifted back to seriousness. "Do your best, Meta, and come back as soon as you complete the mission, understood?"

"Understood." He quickly responded before heading off.

At this point, he just wanted this to be done and over with. Not only that, but there was no doubt that the client would start complaining if they talked too long.

---------

An hour passed, and Meta had seen no action ever since they began traveling. Instead, he was left to his thoughts and honestly, he was progressively getting more fed up with his client. For one, his client didn't even need that chariot. Meta had researched various races and species during his training. The specific race that I.C. belonged to was immune to the cold. He was just too lazy to walk himself! Of course, he couldn't say a thing about it, or the client would become angry. Speaking of which, the client himself was the worst part about this mission, even more than anything else. Occasionally he would roll down the window of his vehicle just to bark out unnecessary commands and insults. Such arrogance for man too afraid to do his own dirty work. Honestly, it was even worse than the blizzard itself. The fact that he just had to take the abuse without saying a thing. Yes, while his mentor could be bossy or would push him to his own limits, he at least knew that was because she cared about him. This person was only doing it because he was rich, and he could. Oh, so badly did he want to somehow sabotage that vehicle, so he died in an "accident". However, he knew he couldn't. It was probably just a thought he had due to frustration and his fingers becoming numb. Quickly, he slipped some more hand warmers underneath his gloves. He really hoped something would happen to break up the boredom and annoyance he was feeling.

Thankfully, he was about to get his wish as he quickly blocked a thrown spear with his sword. Meta closed his eyes and sensed the presence of twenty enemies. A small smile appeared on his face.

"Finally..." He uttered.

Fully drawing his sword, Meta dashed at the nearest bandit and took him out in single move. Turning around, he saw a number of bombs being thrown at the vehicle. Acting quickly, the youth teleported in front of the bombs and kicked them away before they could explode.

"Let's see... there's ten standing in a circle surrounding us. I almost feel... what is this feeling...?"

Raising his sword to the sky, Meta shot a bolt of lightning upwards. Then with a downward slashing motion, the bolt came down and split off into ten directions, hitting and instantly knocking out his targets.

"Falling Lightning Strike." He said coldly.

This was the very first original move he created during his training.

"Get that, bastard!" The youth suddenly heard someone say.

He saw every remaining bandit charge at him. Meta smirked and dashed at them. Then he jumped forward and started to spin incredibly fast, holding his sword out. Soon, he begun to resemble a drill. This was another original technique of his, the Mach Drill. The attack connected and every bandit was sent flying.

"Threat defeated." He uttered with a perfect landing.

"It's about time! You mind getting rid of them a bit faster? Nova, you are so slow!"

Meta didn't even need to look around to see who it was.

"Get back inside. Why you thought it was a good idea to come out is beyond me." He replied coldly, but this only served to make the noble even more angry.

"What makes you think that you can order me around? Maybe if you didn't fight at the speed of a crippled snail, I wouldn't have to come out!"

Suddenly, Meta's sword was at his throat.

"You can act superior all you want but the fact of the matter is that you would be dead without me. Now get inside. Also, if you must know I eliminated them in under a minute. I sincerely doubt you can even move faster than a slow stroll."

I. C. had a horrified look on his face. "I will report this to both your superior and that horrible mentor of yours, you miserable little whelp!"

He then ran into his carriage like his life depended on it. Meta scoffed as he sheathed his blade. He knew that if his mentor agreed with his actions, his superiors probably would as well. Taking a bite of one of his rations, Meta kept moving forward.

---------

A few more hours passed, and Meta had to use yet another set of hand warmers. He also had to put two of them in his boots, as his feet were also starting to become cold. Thankfully, according to his map, the destination wasn't too far away. Using his lantern, Meta could make out some kind of building in the near distance. Soon his mission would be complete, and he could go back home. Hopefully, he could also resupply on rations as well. His thermos was almost empty and he didn't know if he packed enough rations to make it back to the ship. There was one main problem with that... would his client even let him? He highly doubted it, but it was worth a try.

---------

After half an hour, he finally made it to the building. Hopefully he could restock on supplies. When he tried to enter, however, he was stopped.

"Where do you think you're going!?"

He just ignored the voice and continued, stepping around the person blocking his path.

"Hey! Your job was to escort me here! Now that you've done it, and rather poorly I might add, I no longer require your services. Meaning you are now on private property. Leave now or suffer the consequences!"

As much as he wanted to question what "consequences" could someone too lazy to even walk on his own would administer, he knew that his mentor would more than likely suffer from it. He was also just plain tired of this. All he wanted to do right now was return to the GranEssex, where he knew his efforts would be appreciated. Meta started to walk back home, though when he got close to his former client's vehicle, he stealthily overloaded the engine with his lightning magic.

"Let's see how he likes walking..." He thought to himself.

After walking a decent distance, he heard an explosion, likely the engine, and incomprehensible shouting. Not his problem. In fact, during the trip, he noticed it was having engine problems anyway. There was no proof that he had anything to do with it. He gave a slight smirk at that thought. Now all he had to do was return back to the ship. The only problem was... the blizzard around him had picked up.

"Let's see what the map says..."

As he pulled it out, it instantly flew out of his hands. Remembering what his mentor told him, he quickly flicked his wrist and the map magically returned to his hands.

"Thank you, sensei." He said to himself.

It looked like he had to just continue on this current path. The good thing was that since he was no longer escorting a slow-moving vehicle he could go as fast as he wanted. He then began to pick up speed as he ran through the blizzard. Hopefully, he could reach the ship before the blizzard turned into a whiteout.

---------

After half an hour, he finally made it to the building. Hopefully he could restock on supplies. When he tried to enter, however, he was stopped.

"Where do you think you're going!?"

He just ignored the voice and continued, stepping around the person blocking his path.

"Let's see how he likes walking..." He thought to himself.

"Let's see what the map says..."

As he pulled it out, it instantly flew out of his hands. Remembering what his mentor told him, he quickly flicked his wrist and the map magically returned to his hands.

"Thank you, sensei." He said to himself.

---------

Two hours passed and Meta had made good progress. However, a serious issue arose. He had run out of rations. To make matters worse, he was running out of warmers as well.

"Ugh... I could've easily used the lantern for heat, but I don't have anything to keep my energy up. Hopefully the GranEssex is nearby..."

He couldn't even tell if the blizzard picked up or not. He just had to push himself to move further. Maybe if he got close enough to the ship, his mentor would be able to read his mind and would meet up with him. Suddenly, he felt the ground shake.

"An earthquake!? No, it's too weak to be an earthquake. Then what could be causing it?"

Suddenly his instincts were telling him to get moving. Acting quickly, he dodged what looked to be a giant icicle. Meta looked at the source of the attack. It was some kind of giant monster comprised of ice and snow. He drew his sword and slashed at it, only for his attack to have no effect. All of his attacks just went through it, like how a finger easily passes through water. Meta attempted to use some lightning magic, but he was out of mana meaning he could only rely on his physical abilities. The youth dodged another icicle, unfortunately this was a trap. The monster attacked with an ice claw which hit Meta's left foot, tearing up his footwear and freezing his foot solid. Meta was terrified. He was essentially a sitting duck and was quickly running out of time.

"Come on, damn it, think of something! It has to have some weakness, if only I had something that generated heat..." He thought to himself.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, and he pulled out the flare gun he brought. The monster was slowly drawing near, it was now or never. Meta shot a flare at the monster blinding it, and more importantly, causing a part of it to melt revealing the monster's core. With a mighty yell, he threw his sword at the core with all his strength, shattering it upon impact. The monster's body fell apart instantly, leaving a partially frozen Meta victorious. However, he didn't celebrate. He didn't even need to look at his foot to know that his boot was damaged and his foot was frozen. However, he had to continue forward towards the GranEssex. It was his only chance of getting help right now. Struggling to get up, Meta dragged himself over to his sword. He couldn't afford to be without an weapon. St the very least he could use it as a make shift walking stick.

"I should of brought that staff Grandpa gave me..." Meta grumbled to himself.

No, now wasn't the time for complaining. If he could get close enough to the GranEssex, hopefully his mentor's ESP could pick up on his thoughts. He just felt so cold... and so tired right now. No, he couldn't sleep. He would die if he fell asleep. He just had to continue walking and try to ignore the cold. That was easier said than done, of course, being battered by winds and his foot being frozen. Hopefully it wouldn't have to be amputated. Why was he thinking of that now? Perhaps to take his mind off this cold weather? Quickly, he used his last set of warmers in a desperate attempt to keep the heat in within himself. Most noticeably, he noticed that his shivering was beginning to slow down. His mind became muddled with various thoughts. Was this it? Was he going to die out here in this cold, unforgiving wilderness? He pushed himself on and on. Then, after a few more minutes of walking, he could see a familiar shape. However, that was all he could see before his vision went black.

---------

Honestly, Meta didn't expect to wake up once more. It was cold. Much too cold. He just wanted to escape from it. Then, he slowly began to open his eyes. His vision was blurry, so he didn't exactly recognize where he was. The only thing he did know was that he was... strangely warm. Where was he? He tried to move, but he seemed to be restricted by something.

"Stay still, Meta. Just relax and focus on getting warm." He heard a familiar voice say. He quietly looked to his left and his eyes adjusted enough to see a shade of purple.

"...sensei?" He uttered weakly.

"That's right, Meta, now conserve your energy. We'll talk more later." She said in a soothing voice as she stroked his head.

"Sensei...!" He managed to choke out, but was quickly shushed.

"Now, now. Just focus on recovering."

She then took a small cup from the nightstand and let him drink from it. The liquid inside was warm and he could already feel his body warming up further. Now that his vision was beginning to focus, he noticed that he was wrapped in several blankets and had a hot water bottle on his chest. Not only that, but whatever he was laying on was extremely soft, much more than his own bed. He managed to get a better look of the room he was staying in. Upon seeing the photos, the desk, the large bookcase against the wall, and the small kitchen area where he noticed his uniform drying, he finally realized where he was exactly.

"Why am I in your room...?"

"Worry about that later. Just focus on recovering." Was the blunt reply.

---------

The two sat together in silence for the next hour.

When Meta was feeling better, he decided to speak. "Sensei. I'm sorry..."

Kurabe looked confused. "What for, Meta?"

"I escorted the client, but he wouldn't let me resupply and I was attacked on my way back to the ship. I ran out of supplies, and I lost consciousness from the cold... I... I'm a failure..." He felt his eyes begin to water as he continued to talk.

"Now, Meta, answer me this. Did you complete the mission?"

"Yes, but-!"

"But nothing. What happened to you is no fault of your own. You did the best you could, correct? You completed the mission... actually, you completed two missions."

Upon seeing Meta's confused face, she elaborated.

"While you were out, we received another mission: Eliminate a certain A-rank ice monster that's been terrorizing these parts... the same exact one you beat. You defeated a monster that's killed every other soldier sent at it, that's something to be proud of. Besides, you kept your promise, right? You came back home in one piece; I couldn't be prouder of you."

The youth only stared in silence. "Sensei... I..."

As he felt the tears begin to roll down his face, he was unsure how exactly he was feeling right now. He had several emotions murkily swimming around him right now and couldn't figure out why.

"Thank... you..."

Kurabe placed a hand on Meta's head and began to quietly stroke it. "No, Meta, thank you for coming back. It's all thanks to your incredible will."

"I... I just didn't want to die and leave you and Mercury yet."

"And that is what gave you the will to survive. Honestly, I was a complete wreck while you were gone. I was so worried about you. And especially when I found you outside the ship. I'm sure you can ask the Bukisets and Mercury, but I was hysterical while I tried to warm you up and perform CPR."

The youth only looked down in shame. "I'm sorry..."

His mentor gave a sigh.

"Enough of that, Meta. None of this was your fault. If anyone is to blame, it would be that fool." Kurabe said, her tone becoming venomous near the end.

"...sensei?" He asked in slight concern at that dangerous voice.

His mentor smiled at him warmly, but he could also tell that there was a storm of anger brewing inside her. "You see, Meta, that man broke our contract."

She pulled out a short stack of papers, with the first page clearly saying "Commission Contract" on the top of it.

"Section 4, rule 3. A client must allow the hired member of the Organization to resupply themselves if the need arises. Since he forbid you from doing that, he must suffer the consequences."

"What are you going to do then?"

Unlike that rotten noble, his mentor's threats actually held meaning. The warrior gave a dark and sinister grin.

"I'm going to destroy him. Metaphorically anyway. You see, he's done this before, four separate times to be exact. This will be his fifth penalty, meaning he's at our mercy. Or more specifically, my mercy. Just stay here and sleep Meta, you've more than earned it."

The youth nodded quietly.

"Um... sensei...?" He asked in a slightly shy tone.

"What is it?"

"Can we not do another mission on a cold planet? At least not for a couple of years?"

Kurabe nodded. "Of course, Meta." She then got a mischievous smile. "Now you and Mercury have something in common."

"S-SENSEI!" He quickly turned himself away from her, as if trying to hide his blushing face.

She laughed. "And now you're warmer. I'll be back soon, Meta, this won't take long."

She then left the room quickly as her student pouted silently.

---------

Unlike with Meta, it didn't take Kurabe too long to reach the building where I. C. was staying. Part of this was because the GranEssex had flown there in the time it took Meta to recover. The other reason was that Kurabe's mastery of the Ice Ability allowed her to walk through the blizzard without a problem. Without wasting time, she kicked the front door down, startling I.C.

"You again? I thought I told you and that brat to get offa my property, and now you're doing property damage? You better be paying for that!"

Immediately, he stopped when he noticed her stomping towards him.

"The only one paying here is you. You are quite aware that you broke the terms of our contract for the final time, aren't you? Not to mention that I received an interesting report from a co-worker. Mind telling me for how long you've been involved in the black market?"

The man seemed stunned for a moment, but then he began to stutter back.

"H-how have you heard such baseless rumors! I've never even heard of the black market all my life! Now run along before I tell the other nobles that pay you about this and you completely go bankrupt!"

He quickly dabbed his face, as if attempting to hide the fact that he was sweating bullets.

Kurabe then kicked him into the wall. "You have no power over us, you pathetic excuse for a lifeform. For starters, you must be punished for breaking our terms. You must pay us back ten times the amount you originally paid us for."

"With how slowly that brat was going? No way, lady!" He managed to spit out. He was then punched in the gut.

"How fast he went is irrelevant and you know it. Though it's not like you have to cooperate with us. We're seizing every property you own anyway for every illegal activity you have performed. Try and deny it all you like, we have proof."

"You bitch!" He pulled out a block of ice and hit her over the head with it.

"Do you really think that people will listen to your lies with this so-called proof!? And all of this over one stupid brat!? You're extremely desperate!" He tried to break another one over her head.

"The only one desperate is you, and if you've been paying attention, it isn't just about him. You broke the terms of agreement for the final time. If you did what you did with any other soldier you would still be punished."

Kurabe the froze most of his body to his utter shock.

"As for the people, well, you have a television, don't you? Turn it on, see what's on the news."

"...what are you talking about?"

"Turn on the television, now."

The two servants immediately jumped the moment Kurabe looked at them.

"R-right away!"

They quickly scurried off and brought back a TV, immediately turning it on as instructed. On the screen, Reedy adjusted his glasses.

"My name is Reedy and I'm the head of the intelligence division of our organization. We've had reason to suspect him of criminal activity, especially since he was prone to break the rules of our contracts quite quickly. Of course, that alone isn't quite enough to convict him of the truly heinous crimes. That's when I decided to investigate his actions myself. What I found was truly horrifying..."

Reedy clicked on a device that started playing a video of I.C and a few of his associates discussing said assassination attempt.

"So, Mr. Untouchable, how do you feel now?" Kurabe asked.

It was then that she immediately noticed that I. C. appeared to be both physically and metaphorically frozen in fear.

"Let this be an important lesson for you all... " She said to the terrified servants. "Don't cross the Organization. Especially not Kurabe the Unkillable."

Both of the servants quickly nodded.

Then she turned back to the noble. "Now I.C, you have two options: Come with me willingly and stand trial or have me personally oversee your execution. You choice."

The ice continued to creep up the noble's body. However, that wasn't what frightened him the most. It was the red eye that glared at him from underneath her visor. However, it was much, much different than how she did before. It was blank and swirling, like a blood-colored void. It was a red abyss that stared back at him, making it harder and harder for him to breath until he finally fainted.

"Coward." She spat out.

Soon, his whole body was completely frozen. Even his ice resilient body couldn't stop Kurabe's icy grip.

"Reedy, could you do pick him up for me? I'm afraid I'll lose my patience if I look at him for too long." She uttered, speaking to him with a headset.

"Normally I would tell you to do it yourself, but considering the state Meta is in, consider it done." He replied with a slight sigh.

"Thank you."

She then began to return to the GranEssex. There was no way that ice was going to melt anytime soon. Well, at least not until he would need to stand trial.

"What about us? What's going to happen to us?" Asked the servants.

"You will likely be taken in as accomplices."

"But we're innocent!"

"If that's true, then you'll be set free after we do a thorough investigation." She looked back at them coldly. "Now if you have nothing else to say, you can just sit there and wait for him to show up. Unless you want to end up like your boss."

Upon seeing them shake their heads, Kurabe left to see how her student was doing.

---------

After returning to the GranEssex, she returned to her room without saying another word to anyone. Meta could only stare in worry as she slammed the door to her room and walked over towards her desk with an unreadable expression.

"Sensei, are you ok? Did everything go alright?" Her student asked as he started to unravel himself from the blankets surrounding him.

"I'm fine, Meta. Just... extremely angry right now."

Meta looked like was about to say something.

"Don't apologize. I told you already, you have nothing to be sorry about. We would have had to deal with him eventually anyway."

He then immediately became silent. It was as if he was unsure what to say now. Honestly, he didn't really know what to say when his mentor was angry at something else. In the rare case that she was angry at him, he could've easily apologized. But what if he did nothing wrong?

"Sensei, are all escort missions like this? I mean specifically with the clients. Are they all like him?"

"Not all of them, thankfully. While some are still annoying, they aren't all entirely like him." She replied simply as she stood at her desk, her face looking away from him.

It was then that a thought crossed his mind.

"Sensei, please don't blame yourself for what happened. Ok?"

Almost immediately, his mentor responded. "Oh, I'm not blaming myself, Meta."

"I can read your emotions, remember? You regret giving me this mission, I can tell. Because of that, you're angry at yourself."

His mentor became completely silent, as if not knowing how to respond to that

."I don't blame you for putting me on this mission, sensei. If anything, I'm grateful. I've learned a lot about my own limits and that I have a lot of room to grow."

Meta hopped down from the bed and walked up to Kurabe.

"Sensei, you told me that I didn't fail. You didn't fail either."

"...Meta." She uttered quietly.She then smiled as she patted his head. "Look at you acting all grown up. How are you feeling? Can you feel your foot at all?"

He took a moment to move his foot. "I'm feeling a lot better right now. Especially my foot. I can move it right now."

"Good. Now, your uniform should be dry by now. Change into it and follow me, we're going to have a light workout. It'll be good for the both of us."

"Ok then!" He nodded as he quickly dressed himself and followed her out of the room.

#meta knight #kurabe #art of rikka #kirby fanfic #GranEssex Chronicles

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just---keep---simming · 19 days

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The Howells - Summer 2

We rejoin the Howells, Lou and Rory, in Moonwood Mill, where summer has started off warm and rainy. Lou is trying to respect Rory's rule that any new werewolf recruits be either already beastly, or turned by their own choice. Unfortunately, people keep turning him down when he offers to bite them. Can't imagine why.

Hoping for better luck with an already-turned werewolf, Lou invites Joaquin over to the Mill to try and get to know him and initiate him into pack life. Joaquin has completed his transformation, and when in beast form is a rangy dark grey wolf. He is not pleased with Lou for the turning, but he has decided to try and learn a bit more about his new life. The work out together for a while and work towards getting more on the same page. Joaquin isn't ready to join the Wildfangs yet, though.

Rory is having more luck with her business ventures, happily. A freelance maker, she's now regularly taking jobs and turning out beautifully crafted rugs, lights, and candles. Her clients are mostly nice to work with and appreciative of the crafts she sends them. She doesn't make a ton of money, and nor does Lou with his part-time laborer job, but they manage their bills.

It helps that they're pretty self-sufficient. Lou does a lot of repairing and upgrades around the place, and if they need furniture, Rory will be able to manufacture it.

Of course, we all know someone who would heartily approve of such self-sufficiency, for sustainability reasons. Knox drops around to visit the Howells in his capacity as Eco Adviser, and introduces himself to Lou. The two have met briefly at the gym in the past, but hit it off properly as they start to get to know each other better. They have quite a lot in common, although Knox's wife's preference for cats over dogs might cause issues in future!

Speaking of dogs, one day during the summer I happened to spot a very cute dog wandering past. I quickly discovered she was a stray, so off Rory went to befriend and then adopt her. She and Lou are obviously dog people, and they were both thrilled to have the very cute spaniel Zena join the household.

Rory and Lou's fairly free schedules also meant summer was for relaxing and soaking up the great weather. Lou had developed a fear of swimming, which he conquered by confidently entering the water. Rory busted out her grilling skills, and many a summer barbeque was enjoyed over the season.

It wasn't all relaxing in the sun for the Howells, though. Rory was taking her job of shoring up the Wildfangs seriously, necessitating regular chats with other local werewolves. Wolfgang Wilder is part of the Moonwood Collective, but it pays to keep abreast of the happenings of other local packs.

Sometimes it's also necessary to put certain wolves in their place. Being an alpha is no joke, and Rory has the fighting chops to back up her place. Lou's aspiration requires him to become the alpha of his pack, but somehow I don't think Rory is going to be willing to cede power to him any time soon, if ever. She took the local bartender out the back to teach him a lesson, proving the necessity of keeping her place at the top.

It's always worth making sure any other occults who drop by the Mill are aware of whose the boss around here, too.

Following Rory's rampage and putting people in their places, I found Darryl Charm and Morgan Ember like this outside the bar. I have no idea what happened, but it very much looked like they were dead. Grim never appeared, though, and I saw Morgan wandering around right as rain later in the summer, so I guess whatever happened didn't end up being fatal!

Fortunately, for now at least, Lou seems content to let Rory occupy the place she has unquestionably earned and deserves more than him, as pack leader. He might finish his aspiration one day or he might not - it will depend what's best for the pack. For now, though, Rory is top dog, and that's kinda hot.

Lou enjoys having the time to get in plenty of workouts, and also to start contributing more cash to the household. He's pretty handy by now, so he gets ahold of a woodworking table and starts creating things to sell and boost the coffers.

Rory remains the main breadwinner, but Lou's extra work frees her up to make sure she stays current on werewolf culture and lore.

These two make such a great couple. The situation with Angela Pleasant was awkward, but I'm glad Lou and Rory ended up together.

They share the same goals, so they can work together without difficulty. They both want to grow the Wildfangs, and although Joaquin remains on the fence, another packless wolf they find hanging listlessly around the bar is open to a game of tug and a conversation about the Wildfangs. He's eventually coaxed to join, bringing the Wildfang's numbers to three. Success!

Rory and Lou celebrate with a meaty meal at the bar.

Before Lou has to nip off to the vet with Zena!

Finally, as summer is drawing to a close, Lou and Rory head to the top of Moonwood Cliff. Under the light of the all-important moon, Lou proposes to Rory, who delightedly accepts.

It's so romantic and perfect, just the two of them on the mountain that overlooks their beloved hometown and territory, that they elope and get married then and there.

And I think that's a great place to leave Lou and Rory - now also a Howell, rather than Oaklow, along with their new addition Zena. This fun, wild werewolf family have reached some big milestones in their relationship. Will kids come along next?

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queen-haq · 3 years

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 1

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Words: ~2200 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to any kind of emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

~~~~~~

You met Billy Russo at an industry conference two years ago. While you didn’t know much about military security at that time, your specialty was online security and both of you ended up attending a lot of the same events. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, magnetic and a total flirt, and it was obvious he was aware of his good looks and used it to his benefit. You didn’t sleep with him during the conference. Something told you his dance card was already full every night. So, instead, you exchanged contact information and left it at that.

A year later you were hired as a consultant for one of Anvil’s direct competitors and moved to New York City. When Billy called you to meet for drinks, you knew exactly what he was up to. You were no fool. He wanted information on your employer and thought he could charm you into spilling secrets. You told him it wouldn’t work over a second drink, and he simply laughed.

You didn’t fuck him until a month later. The official reason for the delay was conflicting schedules but mostly it was due to insecurity on your part. To the outside world you were attractive in the kind of way that snuck up on people. You weren’t the type to turn heads, like Billy was, and your fucked up childhood had ensured you didn’t let anyone in easily. It wasn’t until a pep talk from your best friend, Davina, about enjoying Billy Russo for what he was – a fun time and nothing more - did you finally decide to take the leap.

Fucking Billy had been unlike anything you’d experienced before. You’d had sex before of course, but not the kind of sex that made you lose all of your inhibitions and scream and come for hours. Billy knew how to coax you out of your shell and demand things from him you’d never even knew you wanted. You fucked him in your apartment, his penthouse, the underground parking lot, in his car and that was all within the first week. He had opened up a whole new world for you and you were willing to try anything and do anything he wanted. After that first night together, all the walls you’d built around your heart collapsed. Your best friend warned you repeatedly that great sex made people confuse lust for love, that she was worried you were falling for Billy, but you told her you were an adult and could handle yourself.

Of course that had been bullshit.

It had been been almost a year now since you and Billy were sleeping together and you had no idea where you stood with him. You didn’t even know if he was fucking other women, though a part of you suspected he was. If he was with you two nights a week that left five other nights to be with someone else. It clawed at you, knowing you weren’t enough for him. It heightened all of your insecurities, made you believe that you were worthless and ugly just like your abusive father used to scream at you. Of course you’d never tell Billy that. The minute he suspected you were getting attached to him emotionally he’d bolt, he’d already warned you of that. So you kept your thoughts to yourself and let your pain eat away at your insides when he wasn’t with you.

At least that had been the plan until you saw him on a date with Madani.

You were at a restaurant with some of your coworkers, enjoying happy hour, when you got up to use the bathroom and spotted Billy sitting in the other corner of the room. The breath rushed out of your lungs, your knees felt weak. They were enraptured with each other, legs intertwined, heads close, a true couple. You knew who she was because he’d let it slip he’d been working with Homeland on something and, you being you, you’d looked her up. Her pictures didn’t do her justice, because she was stunning. And exactly the type of woman Billy would be proud to be seen with.

After you and Billy started sleeping together, Billy rarely took you out. Sure you guys would go to some hole-in-the-wall places or fast food joints but never to fine restaurants, not like this one. You never complained because why waste time when you could be busy fucking his brains out? Except now that you saw him and Madani sitting only a few feet away from you, and he was proudly holding her hand and being openly affectionate, you realized it had all been by design. He never took you out because he was ashamed of you. If you had been prettier, thinner, sexier, taller – anything but what you already are – he’d want you as more than a fuck buddy. He’d want you as his girlfriend.

It was a bitter pill to swallow but at least now you knew the truth and that meant you were back in control of your life.

As much as it hurt, it felt good to know you were the ones making decisions about your future again and they didn’t revolve around Billy. No longer would you be obsessing over what he wanted, what he was doing, if he’d like a certain thing on you or not, if he was fucking someone else or not. You wouldn’t spend hours researching Billy like you did in the past and finding out things about him that he never knew you knew. No, now you were finally free.

And it was time to move on.

Tonight was the night of the fundraising gala. Your company had purchased a table and the CEO of your company had personally extended an invite for you to attend. Based on a conversation you had with Billy three weeks ago, you knew he would also be attending to represent Anvil. When you’d first broached the subject you’d hoped he’d asked you to attend as his date – but he hadn’t. At the time you’d reassured herself the reasons were practical. It would be weird for Billy to be sitting at a competitor’s table (if he went with you) and you would risk offending your boss if you sat at Billy’s. But now you knew the truth.

So, tonight, you were dressed to the nines in a curve-hugging gold dress with a plunging neckline which emphasized all of your assets. Your heels, which cost more than the dress itself, were over five inches high and made you feel like an Amazonian goddess when you sauntered in them.

When you walked into the ballroom with Davina in your arms that night, you felt confident in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

The thing about you that a lot of people didn’t know was that you were fucking fantastic at owning a room – despite your insecurities. You may not be beautiful but you were charming. You were really great at getting strangers to open up, people were drawn to you. It was one of the reasons your CEO promoted you so quickly after a few months. Your job, initially at least, was meant to be a technical role but when you were invited to a party with potential clients you had schmoozed them so easily they had signed the contract within the week. And then you had impressed them with your actual technical skills which only cemented their positive impression of you.

So, yeah, you were in your element and you were ready to charm.

“What table are we?” Davina asked.

“14,” you said. Of course your eyes were automatically drawn to Anvil’s table on the seating chart. 157. A safe distance from your table, which meant there was a good chance you two wouldn’t even be crossing paths in the grand ballroom. You didn’t know whether to be overjoyed or disappointed.

A while later you were circulating around the north bar, chatting up with some potential clients that your boss had wanted you to pay particular attention to when you saw Dinah Madani. She was in one of those slinky, maroon satin dresses, her hair up, and you felt that surge of jealousy go through you again. She was probably here as Billy’s guest considering this wasn’t the kind of events Homeland agents typically attended.

“Y/N!” You turned to find your boss waving you towards him.

Glad for the distraction, you picked up two glasses of champagne from a nearby server and headed towards him, handing him his drink. Your boss was chatting to a group of people you vaguely recognized, but the smile on your face stiffened when you spotted Billy amongst them.

Fuck. He looked good in a tux. His hair was slicked back, and you were struck with the sharp memory of fucking him in his car one night with your fingers roughly fisting his hair. God, you loved his hair, loved running your fingers through the silky strands.

Billy’s eyebrow quirked up when he saw you and you wondered what he thought of you so dressed up. No. It didn’t matter what he thought of you. Fuck him, you reminded yourself.

“Y/N is our new Executive Director,” your boss said, introducing you to the group. “Her division has shown a significant growth ever since she joined Valiant.”

You smiled, shaking hands with everyone. When it was Billy’s turn, you reached out to clasp his hand, not betraying any emotion even though you felt an immediate charge upon touching him. He gave you an amused smile, like he was enjoying the charade.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said. “And don’t listen to Roger. Valiant was doing fine on its own.”

“But Y/N has definitely changed the way we do some of our regular operations. I didn’t realize how archaic this industry’s systems and processes were until she came along.”

“Sounds like I may need to poach Y/N from Valiant,” Billy said with a smug smile, his eyes fixed on you.

“Anvil couldn’t afford me,” you reciprocated with equal smugness.

Roger laughed, patting your arm. “We’re not giving her up without a fight.”

“Clearly,” Billy replied.

The expression on Billy’s face was new to you, you had no idea what he was thinking but you also didn’t want to waste any more of your time obsessing over him.

Roger leaned in closer, lowering his voice so others wouldn’t hear him. “Table 35. Those were the clients I told you about.” As you glanced over to the table he mentioned, your eyes met Billy’s. He was watching you intently, still with the unreadable mask on his face.

Ignoring Billy, you flashed a confident smile up at Roger. “Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You turned back to the group, your gaze skipping past Billy’s. “It was a pleasure to meet you all. I hope you have a great evening.” Bidding everyone goodbye, you headed to Table 35.

***

An hour later you were on the terrace, enjoying the cold, crisp New York air that rattled your bone. You were exhausted. Networking took a lot out of you and now you just wanted to go home and soak in the tub. Davina, a natural extrovert, was still in the ballroom, flirting and socializing but you needed a few minutes of privacy so you had snuck outside to compose yourself.

“Congratulations on the promotion.”

Your jaw clenched as soon as you heard Billy’s voice from behind you. You turned around to look at him as he swaggered forward, closing the distance between the two of you.

“You never told me,” he remarked.

You shrugged your shoulders. “We didn’t tell each other a lot of things.”

“I get the distinct feeling you’re pissed at me but I don’t know why. Care to fill me in?”

“What reason would I have to be pissed at you?”

“You tell me. I’ve called you-”

“You’ve never called me,” you interjected.

“Fine. Texted. Whatever.” Billy took a step closer, forcing you to look up at him. Even in your fucking stilettos, he towered over you. “You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks now. Why the ghosting?”

“I just think it’s time I move on.”

Oh, Billy didn’t like that. His eyes grew darker, so dark they were almost pitch-black. “Really? You’ve got the next one lined up already?”

As much as you wanted to believe he was jealous, you knew that wasn’t the case. “We both know you don’t give a fuck about me so drop the fake jealousy bit.” You tried to walk past him but he grabbed your arm and pulled you close. You felt his angry breath skim over your skin as he glared down at you. “Let me go, Billy.”

“Why?” he snarled. “So you can go fuck Roger?”

“You really expect me to believe you’re jealous of me seeing someone else?” you snapped back. “Or is it because it’s Roger? He’s more successful than you, he’s your competitor, his company has been taking all the contracts you’ve been fighting for and now he’s got you beat in the one area you thought you excelled at. Fucking.” You angled forward on purpose, holding his gaze. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go fuck Roger and leave me out of it?” You smiled up at him. “Or does Madani not let you stray?”

Understanding dawned on Billy’s face. “So that’s what this is about.”

Part Two

A/N - This is my first reader insert fic. Hope you guys enjoyed it. If you’d like me to tag you, please leave a comment or DM me.

If you created this GIF, please let me know so I can give proper credit :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine #the punisher #reader insert #ben barnes #my fics

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obsessivelycapricious · 3 years

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Got an idea for a reader insert fic for the DC universe. I'm probably not going to write it so I'm putting it out there like this instead. Hell if anyone wants to run with this then brilliant. Just shoot me a message and we can talk. Its female reader insert and can be for many different pairings. Male/female/platonic. Mostly with villains.

Shes an artist and her paintings aren't really very popular as they tend to depict the underbelly of Gotham and usually feature a villain or two. the Elite don't like to dwell on such things so theres a bunch of canvases in her apartment unsold.

Shes also got a dark past and made some dumb romantic choices when she was younger. Sionis almost ran her out of town but Gotham is her home and she has nowhere else to go. Batman had to save her. It was a whole thing. She's still terrified of the black mask.

But then we reach an anniversary of Batman and his fight to protect the poor defenseless citizens of the city and someone picks one of her paintings to be on display at the gala. Its not even her favourite painting because to her it just isn't quite finished yet.

So she attends, rather reluctantly putting on a dress and everything. any interested potential buyers decide not to after hearing her describe the rest of her collection which is predictable but disappointing but at least she can admire the pretty people.

Just as things get interesting and she meets the one and only Bruce Wayne - did he just flirt with her? - disaster strikes as the joker and his goons interrupt the event with some typical scheme. Joker throws one of his blades into the heart of her painting during his dramatic monologue and she stares at the painting. Realising its finally complete.

She gets home safe from the gala after batman swoops in and saves her again. But at least this time its by proxy so she can keep some of her dignity. But when she gets home all of her paintings are gone and her apartment has been turned over. She finds out days later that the painting in the gala has also been taken.

A few weeks later she is walking home from work and is kidnapped and bundled into the back of a van. She's terrified its Sionis catching up to her again but they drag her into the basement of a seemingly random club and when they take the bag off her head she is sat at a table with Gotham's infamy elite. Cobblepot, the riddler, two face, mr. freeze, the list goes on. It could also include ivy and Selena kyle maybe harley too? At the top end of the table in command position sits the joker.

They explain, through no small amount of bickering and insults thrown between each other, that they have a proposition for her. They want to give her the opportunity to deal her paintings exclusively to them. First refusal goes to the villain that features in the painting and after that they'll arrange an auction. If no one wants the painting then it can be sold elsewhere.

Our reader is no meek and mild wallflower and can hold her own in the room negotiating a fee for herself for the paintings already stolen and future installments for exclusivity and convincing them to offer her protection. They laugh at first and wonder why she would need protection when the worse gotham has to offer is in the room with her now but she shudders and suggests that if Sionis is no match for them then they won't mind making sure he doesn't get near her again. Her one caveat to the deal is that if the batman shows an interest he gets first dibs. He did save her life after all.

And so begins an unlikely partnership with Gotham's criminal underbelly. Because they arent house trained and dont seem to understand how to use a door properly, her appartment keeps getting broken into when a new batch of paintings is ready to go. Johnny frost is usually the one who drops off her pay.

Sometimes she comes across her new clients in unexpected places. She meets Edward Nigma while out to buy the paper who spent his morning coaching her through various riddles. Sometimes she finds a car waiting outside to take her to Penguins club or on the very rare occasion she finds an errant joker in her apartment, constantly keeping her on her toes with his bouts of madness. She gets to know a few of them on an almost intimate level though she is vigilant enough to never cross that line. They somehow always keep her out of the mob business they conduct so she always has plausible deniability and so they dont have a good reason to kill her.

Meanwhile, Sionis hears from Victor Zsaz that our reader is flourishing rather than hiding away scared for her life like he left her. Whats more she is painting again and for other people?? This wont do. She belongs to him and only him.

So begins our final act where sionis carries out his diabolical plan and the readers favourite villian swoops in and saves the day. This could be a choose your own ending sort of thing where the reader can pick who she wants. Including batman and a version where the villians all team up and work together. Or yknow. Writers choice if youd rather just write one. Im a fan of it being the joker or batman or nightwing/robin (if you fit some interaction in between the plot so theres enough intent there)

Then the finale to it may be romantic and may end with the reader and their fave releasing the pent up tension between the two. Or if youd rather have a more platonic non relationshipy ending you could have the reader finish off sionis and take that step into villainy herself.

Ta daaaa! The end.

Message me if you wanna use the story! I would love to read it or see stuff about it.

#dc comics #dc fic #joker x you #batman x you #reader insert #fic idea #penguin x you #riddler x reader #joker x reader #batman x reader #nightwing x you #robin x you #ivy x you #catwoman x reader

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human-do-a-worm · 3 years

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Ramblings of an Old Soldier Part 3/3

Sorry about the wait. The second dose of COVID vaccine drains you a lot more than the first dose. Anyways here’s part 3, part 1 and part 2 can be found here.

Admiral Sturm sat on the park bench as he always did. Sipping on his coffee and reading the latest news from his datapad. Once again, the Unkall boy approached him and sat beside him on the bench. He noticed that the aging Terran was wearing a strange uniform, with the image of a furred beast embroidered on the chest and upper right arm.

“Good afternoon Mr. Sturm.” “Ah, hello there son. Back for story time again?” “Yes sir. I was wondering what happened after the summit. Almost all traces of you vanished from records 8 cycles ago, and the only mentions of you after that were how the Terran Navy wanted you back.”

“Well, as I said the other day, I became a merc. My crew and I were the best. We took contracts from the Segmentum Norrus, all the way down to the Serectan Void. We didn’t work like most mercenary groups. We sought out our clients, and saw a lot of business. Everything from running escort duty on supply runs to desperate worlds, to taking down entire groups of bandits and pirates. Wherever we went, outlaws and tyrants alike feared the sight of The Wolf’s Den.”

“The Wolf’s Den? I think we heard about a group of people using that ship last cycle in our Galactic History class. Something about taking part in the Gingral war, only a few cycles ago.” “Ah yes, the Gingral war. Some of the bloodiest fighting I’ve ever seen. That was the last contract my crew and I took. We started off in a small role; mostly just escorting supply freighters to the border colonies since most of the supply lines had been cut and the colonists were starving. Our last supply run had been going well, until 6 light cruisers decloaked and opened fire. We did the best we could, but the supply freighter carrying food and civilians was destroyed in only a few minutes.”

“We could have escaped after that. Made a jump to the nearest Unkall station and gotten reinforcements, but My crew and I all knew what had to be done. We knew that the Gingral had to pay. They may have outnumbered us 6 to 1, and they may have had us outgunned, but they didn’t account for us having a mark 7 jump core. We warped around behind them and took down 2 of the light cruisers rather easily, but then we took a hit. The jump core cut out, and we were relying only on engine power.”

“But The Wolf’s Den must have survived somehow. The history logs said that it served through the entirety of the Gingral War.”

“That’s almost right. We knew that we wouldn’t be able to keep her together much longer, so we did what all Terrans do in situations like this. We became unpredictable. We gave all power to weapons and blasted the furthest ship from us, then mustered to the airlocks. We put on EVA gear and as soon as we were close enough to the next ship, we boarded.” “Wasn’t ship boarding added to the prohibited activities of War after the Terran war?” “It was, but targeting civilians has always been among the prohibited activities of War, so we were still committing a lesser infraction. We blasted open the port hangar with a plasma charge, and cleared the first room. Then we cleared the rest of the ship up to the bridge and took out the last remaining light cruiser. Changed the comms channels to the ones we had on The Wolf’s Den, then modified the IFF tag accordingly. When we arrived at the Unkall station we had just left, they demanded an explanation, so we told them what happened.” “And you weren't reprimanded?”

“Oh, we were. There was even a small tribunal held to determine if we could still fight. That’s when the call came in. Rakthis had been attacked, with only a handful of survivors. I immediately got up and started heading to my ship. The Unkall admiral demanded to know where I was going. After calmly telling him that there was now a full scale war, we had work to do. I went to the hangar and got the light cruiser repaired and ready for combat, but not before renaming it. The Wolf’s Den was never destroyed, it just became another ship.”

“What happened next?” the Unkall boy asked. “Weren’t the forces around Rakthis said to be uncounted?”

“They were, that’s why we didn’t go to Rakthis. We went to Waalon instead. Then to Rek’lon, and finally to Scrurros. Everywhere we went, we pushed back the Gingral horde. My first mate, Sarah Callingham, had family on the outer colonies back in the Vrumoid war. Saw most of them killed in front of her when their shuttle was shot down leaving atmosphere on Vrall VII. Scrurros was a tough nut to crack, and she had more crafty ideas than I did. We landed The Wolf’s Den on the uninhabited side of the planet, then bought a grav truck from one of the farmers. It was hard to weld the armor plates on it at the right angle, but mounting the lasguns and mortar was rather simple. I stood in the back, manning two of the lasguns and the mortar while she and two other soldiers were up front in the cab. We got almost to the planetary capital before we faced any resistance.”

“But the history logs said that Scrurros didn’t fall until the later end of the war.” “That’s right. We couldn’t take the planet as easily as we’d taken the others. When the first mortar hit the shield on the planetary governance center, we knew we were in for a fight. We got the truck away with only a few shots on the armor, but we were pursued by the planetary militia. One of the armored gun trucks fired their heavy las gun and took out the rear grav drive. With the back end of the truck along the ground, our speed tanked to a crawl. I was able to keep the militia back for a while by pinning them down with the lasguns, but then another shot hit us, dead center mass.”

“How bad was it? Were you alright?”

“I made it out with only a few scratches, scrapes, and bruises, but Sarah and the others up front weren't so lucky. The shot penetrated the cab and blew up at the steering linkage. Only Sarah, myself, and the one crewman in the back with me made it out of that. We ducked into a nearby building for cover, only to find that it was a school. Not wanting to put the civilians in danger, we lightly dressed Sarah’s wounds and went on into the forest surrounding the city. We came to a cave at the foot of a mountain, and made camp inside.” “Who was the other crewman that was with you? I notice that you haven’t said his name yet.”

“His name was Richard Grumman. He was the newest addition to The Wolfpack, joining us less than a cycle ago. We hadn’t had much time to get to know each other. The Militia found us in the first week, and he was shot to death on the night they raided the cave. Sarah and I managed to get away, but we were far from being safe. The next night we got a transmission from The Wolf’s Den; They had been found, and were wondering what to do. Sarah and I were at least four days away from the ship, so I made the call and told them to leave while they had the chance, to keep fighting and never forget about us.” “So you willingly stranded yourself and an injured crewmate on a hostile planet just to save your crewmates? The stories about the Terrans must be true.” “You’ll learn that those stories don’t even tell half the story if you stick on a Terran ship for even half a cycle. Anyways, there we were, just me and Sarah on Scrurros. I treated her wounds the best I could, but she wasn’t getting much better. Eventually she died, less than half a cycle into our time on that world. I retired with her body to the farmer who sold us the truck, and paid him to let me bury Sarah on his property. Much like with the freighter, the Gingral would pay. I took stock of what I had. Two lasguns, three fragmentation grenades, an energy grenade, and a plasma charge. Not nearly enough to take on the forces of the planet, but maybe enough to make it possible.”

“So what did you do? The Gingral don’t just let prisoners get away. Especially not in the middle of a war.” “Well, I couldn't just storm the Planetary Governance Center. That would accomplish nothing but my own death. Instead I went for something better. Three grids away from the Governance Center was the Defense Center. The plan was simple. Get inside, break as much stuff as I could, and hope that was enough to take down their defenses. It took me ten days to reach the capital again, and another three to figure out how to get inside. Turns out the Gringal didn’t make their roof as secure as they should have. I opened up the ventilation system and got inside. From there it was a short trip to the bunker exterior.”

“Aren’t Gingral bunkers some of the hardest to break open in the entire galaxy? How did you get inside?” “Simple; I didn’t break in; I snuck in. I kicked out the vent and got inside the bunker, then closed and locked the door behind me and smashed the controls. There were only technicians and a few soldiers inside, who were easy enough to dispatch. The harder part was accessing the communications room. Aside from the door of the bunker itself, the communications room was the most secure place in the facility. The door was half a meter thick, and barred at six points. That would prove to be a great challenge, so I left it for later. I quickly found the controls to the weapons system, and took it down. The planet was now mostly defenseless against ships in orbit and low atmosphere.”

“So you took down the guns, but how did you get in?”

“The door was too hard to get through, so I made my own instead. I went above the room and opened up the three fragmentation grenades. Terrna frag grenades use a pressure sensitive explosive to detonate, so I poured it out above the room, then placed the plasma charge on top of it. I ducked out of the room and waited for the explosion. When that charge went off, it was as if the whole planet shook. When I went in to check on the hole, the charge had only just broken through the floor. It took hours for me to get the hole wide enough for me to wriggle inside, but it was worth it. I contacted the Unkall fleet, and they were there within the week. The planet fell and I was pulled from the bunker before the food and water stores were even dented.”

“So that’s why taking Scrurros was so easy for the fleet. There wasn’t as much resistance as the planet originally had. And you were the one to take it down?”

“That’s right. After the war, I was broken. My knees were all but useless for fighting, and I could barely stand without swaying. The Unkall empire never forgot what my crew and I did. We were paid many times more than what was written in our contract, and they even got me a home right here on Unkall Prime. Now I sit here, enjoying retirement in my old age. Though the Terran lifespan is almost 50 cycles, we’re usually out of our working years after only 30 cycles. Our bodies are too old and weak to do most of the hard tasks that we normally would.”

“So what do you do now? Surely after a life like yours you want to do something just as exciting after you’re done working.”

“I mostly just read now. When you spend your life as a soldier, you miss out on so much. I never settled down and had kids, and my time for that is even drawing to a close. I did take up a few hobbies here and there, but nothing really stuck. I still work part time for the Unkall empire, training their soldiers in virtual reality simulations is about all I can do, but I’ve given the Unkall the strength to protect their planets, and given their generals and admirals the knowledge not to go on any missions they will regret. I’m happy with the contributions I’ve made in my life, and if I had the chance, I’d do it all over again. By the way, I never did catch your name.”

“My name is Ruthal Nerzak, and I’m slotted to be a soldier in the Unkall Defense Force.”

“Well Ruthal, I hope we will meet again someday.”

With that, Ruthal stopped recording and went home, finishing his final report.

A few days later, Ukall prime came under attack. A colonial independence group made numerous strikes around the city, and Ruthal had been caught outside on his way home from class. He tried to run away, but was chased by one of the insurgents down an alleyway, when suddenly two lasgun shots rang out. Ruthal though he was dead, but he slowly opened his four eyes and saw that the terrorist was dead on the ground in front of him. Looking up, he was me with a familiar face

“Thank you Mr. Sturm, I thought I was surely dead.”

“Don’t thank me yet, we’re seven grids away from the nearest shelter, and there’s enemies all around us. You said you wanted to be a soldier, well your training just started early.”

Sturm handed Ruthal the lasgun from the dead insurgent, and after showing him how to fire and teaching him how to make sure it doesn’t overheat, he led the Unkall boy out of the alley and down the street. Two blocks later, Sturm pulled the Unkall boy into an alley.

“Alright son, listen up. There’s about fifty armed and angry people between us and shelter. Our espace routes have been mostly cut off, so I need you to listen to me and listen well. When I tell you to run, you run as fast as you can. We should be able to get past most of them by taking the alleys across the street. I picked up some kit off one of these guys. The flashbang should buy us enough time to cross the street, but I’ll have to think of something after we get to our next crossing.”

Sturm threw the flashbang far into the crowd of terrorists, blinding a dozen of them and allowing them to cross the street. After seeing how many insurgents were at their crossing point, Sturm and Ruthal entered a tall residence building across from a big shootout between the insurgent and Unkall forces.

“Alright, we don’t stand a chance of crossing that. Here’s the plan. We’ll get up high, and then open fire on them. If nothing else, we’ll draw their attention away from the defense forces and allow them to break through.”

“I can’t. They’re people, just like us.” “Look around you kid. There’s men, women, and children all gunned down by these guys. I’m not sure what that makes them in Unkall society, but to us Terrans, they’re no longer people; they’re monsters. As a soldier, our job is to get rid of the monsters, so that everyone can sleep soundly at night knowing they’re safe. Taking a life isn’t something one does lightly, but it’s still something that has to be done. It’s better that we take them out, because if we don’t, who knows how many more people they’ll kill. We don’t do this because we like killing, we do this because we love the people we protect, and we’d give anything to keep them safe.”

“But I don’t want to hurt them.”

“I understand. I’m not sure if the Unkall have a saying like this, but Terrans sure do. You have a big heart. You want to keep people safe, not put them in the ground. But sometimes the best way to keep people safe is to put bad people in the ground. We’re between a rock and a hard place. If we sit here and do nothing, they will continue to hold this street, but if we can take them down, even just one or two of them, we can make them fight on two sides, which is the easiest way to break through an enemy line. I recognize a few of the soldiers I can see from up here. I trained them myself. They’ll realize what’s going on and they’ll do the heavy lifting; we just need to give them a helping hand. So, are you ready?”

The young Unkall nodded, then Sturm and Ruthal braced their lasguns on the windowsill, and opened fire on the street below. As Sturm said, the insurgents shifted their position, attempting to defend against incoming fire from two directions. As the Unkall defense forces broke the lines, a single shot came from the street and hit Sturm in the neck

Bleeding badly, Sturm stumbled back, Ruthall catching him in his arms. As he was losing his grasp on consciousness, Sturm held Ruthalls hand

“Never forget what happened here. Never forget the atrocities you saw with your own eyes, and never be afraid to rise up against the monsters who make things like this happen.”

With that, Sturm closed his eyes. Unkall security forces soon burst into the room, seeing the state of the old Terran, they gave him the best aid they could, and sent him off to the hospital, with Ruthall at his side.

After a lengthy surgery and two pints of blood, Sturm woke up in his hospital room, Ruthall asleep on his lap. Colonel Rengar, a soldier in the Unkall defense forces entered the room.

“So Admiral, I see your retirement is going well.”

“Can the crap Colonel. How many did we lose?”

“Casualties are still being counted, but even one is too many.”

“And what about the boy, Ruthall. Why is he still here?"

"His family were among those killed in the attack. We haven’t told him yet, just that we’re still looking for them.”

“So what will happen to him?”

“We don’t know. He doesn’t have any living family, and in our culture friend’s do not step in for situations like these. He will likely be left to become an adoptee for some family here, but after this, I’m not sure who would adopt him.”

“I will.”

“What? You can’t be serious. The looks he would get, especially here in the capital. I’m not sure if he can take it.”

“He knows my story. He knows that I take care of the ones I call family. He didn’t hesitate to pick up a rifle and follow me through the streets today, and he only barely hesitated to fight beside me. He’ll make a fine soldier, and he’ll make a damn good son. Get me the documents dammit.”

“Very well.”

Ruthall woke up, and was told about what happened. He didn’t take his family dying too well, but was glad that he would not be alone. The next day that school was in session, Admiral Sturm put on his old Terran uniform, and walked his son into class. It was not easy adjusting to caring for a young Unkall child, but it was a change that Sturm was happy to make. He had known what it was like to be alone, and now he could keep Ruthall from knowing that pain.

The End

Let me know if you guys want a follow up series about Sturm and Ruthall on Unkall Prime, and how they live their lives together.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are weird #earth is space australia #humans are space australians

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softinkshadows · 3 years

Text

Hot spring tales (Hisoka x female reader)

A Hisoka x female reader one-shot, with a sprinkle of Chrollo.

Situated in the HxH universe with canon timeline.

Disclaimer: nsfw, contains smut and explicit sex (but we know you're here for that)

Word count: 5000++ (wow did i just write 5000 words of smutty smut)

----

Pale, slender fingers tap against the phone screen. He finds the contact he is looking for and dials the number, raising the phone to his ear. Around him, dusk settles over the ragged terrain of the Gordeau desert. The wind gains in strength, almost pushing his combed black hair free. The phone rings for a few seconds before the person on the other end picks up.

“Did you figure it out already?”

“Probably,” he says, his grey eyes catching the last wisps of fading light to the west. “The nen exorcist may very well be on Greed Island, which is East of York New. It seems you will need to enter the game as well.”

“Shall I procure one of Battera’s? He did buy all of the ones auctioned this time round.”

“No, that risks complicating things. What we need is a game privately owned by someone who is easily contactable, allows us to stay untraceable, preferably one who we wouldn’t have to kill and is reasonable towards helping…” he trails off, realizing that there is indeed someone who matches the conditions, someone who he would very much like to avoid for the time being… The irony of fate, he thinks, grimacing in irritation.

“It seems we will need to pay a visit to her.”

“Her?”

“I will send the address over to you. It’ll take me at least a day to get there, so you should start moving first. It would be better if you were the one handling negotiations this time round. And avoid mentioning my name, or the troupe’s.”

“Oh?” the voice on the other end piques with curiosity.

“We have… history. I’ll trust that you can strike a deal by the time I’m there?”

“Of course. After all, the chance to fight you is on the line.” He can almost hear the other man smirking gleefully through the phone.

“It’ll be dangerous, so try your best to be good, or our deal is off. Consider this a warning, Hisoka.”

----

You find yourself back at your quarters after dinner, alone in the large dressing room. Looking in the mirror, you arrange your hair neatly around your bun, making sure to tidy it for the next wave of customers tonight.

The underground auction has recently ended, and more people are flocking to your establishment. Kurohasu Onsen (Black Lotus Onsen) is renowned as the gathering-place for anybody who is somebody: a bathhouse that functions as neutral ground for politicians, powerful members of the mafia and hunters who have ties to the underworld to carry out business negotiations. A safe haven for murderers and thieves. All are welcome, although at a hefty price. The exorbitant entry fee is itself a gatekeeper of accessibility, and many have brought treasures and precious artefacts in the hope of gaining your favour. As weapons are allowed for protection, fights inevitably break out, but rarely do they erupt into something serious. All staff at the onsen are strong nen-users who pay close watch to customer behaviour. They have nen-restrainers on hand to subdue feisty ability users, and if not, there’s you, whose mysterious yet formidable presence is enough to elicit compliance. It is not uncommon to see off customers with missing limbs and near-fatal injuries, a warning punishment for breaking the establishment’s regulations. Furthermore, it is the iron-clad rule that the onsen is the one place where truce is enforced, upheld, respected. And you, the infamous proprietor, the black lotus of Kurohasu Onsen, are not someone to be crossed. Your customers are well aware of this.

You get up, ready to leave, when you turn to look at the mirror again. Your black onyx hairpin fits in and across your bun, easily reachable within seconds. Your eyes travel down to look at the black shimmering contours of your silk robe with its ornate floral embroidery, opening at two slits that end above the knee, the garment tied fittingly at the waist with a scarlet obi sash. Presentable, you hum in approval, before walking out the door.

Your secretary Esa is already waiting. “Give me updates,” You demand.

She follows you briskly down the corridor as you make your rounds to greet notable clients. Esa does this every three hours, reciting the list of new guests checked in since the last report, the rooms they booked, the meetings they have arrived for, and the fees paid. You remember everything, noting the ones who offer presents not entirely up to standard, or troublesome ones with a sketchy behavioural record.

“A while ago, a Hisoka Morow checked into the deluxe room. 50,000 Jenny a night for 2 nights, with a possible extension.”

The name catches you slightly off guard. You have never met the man, but from your intel he’s one of the most sought-after fighters at Heaven’s Arena. And a dangerous murderer too. But as far as you know, the man works alone and doesn’t get involved with politics. Why would someone like him be here?

“He has a meeting?” you turn to Esa.

“If he had, he did not say. Most likely for leisure, though. The onsen is famous for its baths too,” replied your attendant matter-of-factly.

You pause for a while to think, before calling over a male security staff with a wave of a finger. “Keep tabs on Hisoka. Let me know if he’s up to anything.” The staff bows and immediately embarks on fulfilling your order. You return to your duties for now, but the seed of suspicion and uneasiness does not go away.

---

“Ahh… now this is not bad,” Hisoka smiles to himself as he climbs into the water. He rests his head against the smooth stone edge of the outdoor bath, watching the steam lift gently from the softly rippling surface. When Chrollo told him about this place, he expected it to be dim and grimy, trawling with underworld scum. Instead, what greeted him was the pure luxury of mineral-rich baths, large clean rooms and 1000 thread-count sheets. He could get used to this. Not to mention…

His eyes wander over the bath, taking stock of the situation. Being quite late at night, most guests have retired to respective meeting rooms for drinks and negotiations, with only a smattering of visitors, mostly individuals or pairs, left lounging in the outdoor section. The only other people are the ever-present security staff, including one particularly persistent male staff standing at the private viewing balcony above. At least the nen users here are stronger than usual. A slight tremor of pleasure runs through his body, and he runs his fingers through his wet hair to shake the feeling before it builds into bloodlust. It’s been a while since he killed. He is still riled up from two days ago, thanks to the blond runt. And Chrollo, that damn bastard.

He observes the nen-users with half-closed eyes. 75… 80… 85… He evaluates. Not too shabby. Then he senses it. 97!! He feels the sudden presence, an impeccable zetsu with a tinge of icy smoothness and fiery calm toiling beneath its surface. It is enough for him to widen his eyes and sit up straight, a hot tingling sensation travelling down his spine, pleasure surging into his body for a split second, almost goading him into a fight right there and then. Well, what do we have here? He looks to the source of this pressure, golden eyes flashing and meeting yours, as you look down at him from the balcony above.

One look and you know he clearly lives up to his reputation. He is suppressing his power by default, but his presence leaves a slight prickling static in the air which only stronger nen users can detect. He also seems to have noticed you, judging by the slight shift his posture, the electrifying gaze beneath his damp red hair and the sudden tension in the air with his nen flaring, almost breaking its zetsu. Despite the distance, both of you lock eyes for a moment, each one feeling out the other, gauging abilities, locating motives. What the hell is his aim? You face the sheer intensity of his gaze with your own cold, calculating glare, both of you guarding your intentions yet attempting to penetrate through the other’s guise, staring each other down as if in a challenge. No one relents. But you can’t help but feel a rising irritation, that the man sitting naked in the outdoor bath three floors beneath you is getting under your skin, and a distracting kind of warmth creeps in... You look away. You nod to the staff to continue strict monitoring and return to your room.

Hisoka watches you leave, and instinctively his fingers run through his hair again, this time harder than the last. Oh, Chrollo… Don’t tell me that’s her? A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Oh, you were right. This is going to be dangerous.

---

You don’t hear any more concerning updates on Hisoka until later the next day. Besides using the baths for extended periods of time, and mild complaints from other guests of his lengthy and uncomfortable stares, he hasn’t caused any trouble. He hasn’t physically contacted anyone either.

“Come again?” you stop abruptly, mid-way through scanning the paper records of this month’s taxes and bills, glancing up at your secretary.

Esa clears her throat and speaks again. “Madam, Hisoka Morow has requested for a meeting with you today.”

Hmph. You scoff a little, your eyes narrowing to ponder the next course of action. You had expected something like this. There is no way someone like him would travel all the way here just to use the baths, let alone without engaging anyone. If his aim is to negotiate matters with you, it must be something quite serious, given that neither of you have gone out of your way to meet with each other previously.

“Shall I cancel?” Esa asks, ready to deliver the order and reject the fool that had the nerve to request a meeting with you on such short notice.

“No. Make it tonight at eleven, after I complete my usual rounds.”

“Understood.”

---

It is night, and the onsen quietens for the day. Only the soft rushes of spring water from the outdoor baths and the muffled sounds of late-night negotiations drift by. You find yourself finally seated across from him in one of your private meeting rooms, both of you silent but never once taking your eyes off each other, quietly assessing one another.

Now up close and clothed in a blue yukata, accentuating the red hair that falls close to his shoulders, you can’t help but find him just a little more attractive than you imagined. His golden eyes are calm, steady, even confident, a rarity for anyone for finds them in a room alone with you. Most people would have bowed their head in submission long ago. You keep your own icy composure. But the force of his nen suppressed under zetsu, his incredibly toned body beneath his yukata and that arrogant way he looks at you make your body feel warmer than usual.

When he sees you for the first time that night, seated on the far end of the room, he feels it again. That powerful presence that keeps goading him, that sends electrifying jolts through his body. You’re seated comfortably on the floor, almost reclining, yet the hard, murderous edge of your gaze shows you are constantly on guard. Simply exquisite. He almost licks his lips but controls himself. A fine opponent… to kill? No, no, much too soon… that would be a waste. Chrollo comes first.

The meeting hall is much too large for two people, spanning over 24 tatami in size. On both sides, paper screen doors open out into an elegant view of the autumn trees in the estate, shedding its red delicately in the wind. A long, low black lacquer table in the center of the room separates you and him, each of you seated on either end. Silence continues to hang in the air. A staff gracefully pours a luxurious blend of sencha into the cups, before she places the tea pot and tray on the floor, bows, and takes her leave quickly. You notice Esa hovering by the doorway to the room.

“Esa, you may go.”

“But Madam-” your secretary protests but stops as you give her a glare. She of all people would understand you’re probably the last person in the establishment who needs any form of protection. As her footsteps recede down the hallway outside, you turn back to the man in front of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you today?”

“It has come to my knowledge,” Hisoka finally speaks, and the slow, sly curl of his tone lights another fire in you, “that you are in possession of one of the most sought-after items in the world of late. I have a pressing need for it and would like to negotiate a deal.”

“I’m a collector of the rarest treasures, so you’re going to have to be more specific,” you scoff, taking a sip of your tea.

“I’m talking about a certain game.”

“Ah, Greed Island,” you retort indifferently, although inwardly puzzled. Why would he go to such lengths just for a game? Didn’t seem like the type. “What makes you think I’ll agree to your request? What is in it for me?”

Hisoka pauses, contemplating something before pushing onwards with a slight smirk. “I’m not sure if you know of a certain man by the name of… Chrollo Lucilfer?”

He waits for the intended effect and sure enough, you react. Immediately, at the mention of the name you’re hit with an unpleasant sensation that makes you grit your teeth, and your eyes blaze with a hint of fury. Without realizing, a cracking sound fills the room as the cast iron tea pot on the floor dents with the force of your nen.

Hisoka looks at the pot quietly before he smiles, lifting the tea cup to his lips, his eyes only growing darker as he trains his gaze on you. Interesting. “May I know, if it’s not too much to ask, the reason for your disdain of the man?”

“I’ve known him for a long time. He tried to kill me twice, once on purpose and the second time by accident. Clearly, he did not succeed,” you say, finishing your tea.

Beautifully exquisite. Another thrill runs through his spine, almost making him tremble with excitement. Perhaps it would be safe to suggest…

“I’m looking for Chrollo. He’s been running from me for a while now, and last I heard he has been spotted hiding out in the game. I would very much like to settle our score soon. Of course, perhaps to your advantage I fully intend on killing him, with pleasure,” Hisoka continues, waving his hand in the air with dismissive complacency.

“If only it were so simple,” you retort, knowing the full potential of Chrollo’s abilities. “And how can I take you for your word?”

“You can’t.”

You look up in mild distaste at Hisoka. What a bastard. You could slit his throat right now, with that cocky expression of his. And yet, your body feels a little hot when he’s looking at you, his gaze ruthlessly penetrating and his nen just on the edge of flaring.

“Name your offer, Hisoka.” You say his name for the first time, aware of how his gaze hardens when you do so, and your body burns with a strange desire which you suppress under the guise of irritation.

“I’m not offering.”

“What?”

“Allow me to use the game, or I will go on to kill everyone in this establishment, including your precious secretary and all your guests. It’s been a while since I had fun and I won’t stop when I do.”

The audacity. You slam your cup on the table and glare at him, your nen bristling beneath the surface. It was a mistake to let him into the bathhouse. And the worst part is that he is right. He could take out everyone except you here with ease, and you’d lose your manpower, your reputation, your business. Everything you worked hard for since leaving meteor city years ago. Perhaps it’ll be wise to dispose of him right here, right now.

In a split second, you draw the long onyx pin from your hair, leaping across the length of the table with such grace and speed that the tea in Hisoka’s cup barely ripples, as you aim for this throat, slicing the air in front of you. He dodges at the last moment, his eyes wild with a feral look as you nick of a few strands of his hair and the sharp edge of your hairpin draws a faint red line along his throat. He grins. He’s clearly enjoying this. He moves to land a counter-attack but you jump away. You’ve put distance between the two of you again; you grip your hair pin, calm and poised for another strike, while he similarly crouches, one hand reaching to stroke the mark you made on his throat.

“Now you’re just getting me excited,” his voice drops to a low purr.

Here you are, seconds after nearly killing him, and you feel your body reacting to his voice and his unapologetic desire. You know you have the power to end him, yet a tingling sensation creeps over the lower half of your body. You can feel sweat starting to gather around your stomach, while another warm wetness pools further below, between your legs. It’s been so long since anyone made you feel this way. Not since… Your thoughts are interrupted as he appears behind you, aiming for your head.

“Pay attention, darling.”

There’s barely any sound in the meeting room as you and Hisoka continue to spar in near complete zetsu, restraining nen to avoid alerting the attention of other guests and the security staff. His eyes gleam more with your every strike, his moves maintain its strength but do not get more forceful, and neither do yours. You feel the exhilaration of the near-misses, of your bodies brushing against one another before pulling away, the light friction of fabric against fabric, as if locked in a graceful dance that neither of you want to end. Moonlight cascades through the open balcony, and there’s a glint in Hisoka’s eyes.

“Let’s stop pretending we’re serious about killing each other, shall we?” he quips with a smirk.

His words register, and you halt. You weren’t noticing it before, but he is right. You weren't trying. You falter for a moment too long. Then he rushes you, pinning your body down onto the floor with his own weight, brute force mixed with excitement to the point that his nails dig into the straw of the tatami below, ripping it slightly. He raises a hand, about to spill your blood, when your control slips. Before, your brief exchanges saw your body feeling hotter, winding tighter as it did more cautious. But now, with him pressing down onto you from above, not pulling away, gripping with a strength that few possess and with a wicked look in his eyes, you can’t keep it down anymore. You let out a throaty moan as his holds you hard, feeling your underwear getting more soaked with every passing second. His eyes widen in surprise, and he pauses. You and him remain quiet like this for a while, the wind from outside gently caressing both your bodies, teasing out an answer.

Then, as if on instinct, both your mouths crash together. Neither of you are ashamed at the pure lust that erupts between the two of you, bloodlust still not completely abating which spurs you and him on even more. His tongue slips into you mouth, determined on stealing your breath, your hand clasped around your hair pin still trapped within his, his ferocious strength barely just surpassing your own as you do not back down, struggling against the restraint. It is still a fight, after all. Yet his other free hand trails down your silk robe, slithering between the open slits to your thighs before raising one of your legs to wrap around his torso. You moan into his kiss and move against his clothed body, desperate for friction.

"Patience, my dear." He pauses, giving you a sadistic grin.

You’re not going to let him keep staying in control. In a surge of strength you topple and roll over him in a flash, slamming him to the floor and stabbing the pin right into the tatami next to his head, at which Hisoka lets out a loud groan. You press and rub yourself against him, leaving small bites along his neck, your hair starting to come loose and fall to the side of your face from the exertion. The warmth between your legs grows, and it’s not just you. Hisoka is only wearing underwear beneath the yukata, and you feel his erection, hot and hard beneath your rolling hips. You feel your own slick starting to run down your inner thigh, and you ache to be filled.

You pull away and gaze down at Hisoka, who’s just starting to get a little breathless with desire, his eyes clouded with lust. You pull the hairpin from the floor and aim it at his throat. You command, your voice cold and edged with arrogance.

“Stop wasting my time and just fuck me already.”

At this, Hisoka lets out a low growl, flipping you on your back, almost tearing the obi around your waist to shreds with his hands. His mouth latches onto your neck and you cry out, as his hands reach under your bra to free your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, alternating between gentle strokes and forceful pinches. Your body shakes with pleasure and you grind against him, your hands fumbling to move his yukata out of the way. You cover your palm over his bulge, which is already straining hard against his underwear. He bites a little harder on your skin as you do, goading you on. You reach beneath the fabric, stroking his most sensitive spot, and you feel him shudder against you. Oh, to have such a powerful man like him at your mercy.

Before you have time to think, your pleasure increases ten-fold, white-hot and surging through your body as his fingers find their way to your slit, obscenely slick with your honey.

“Oh? This wet for me already?” he murmurs into your ear, sending shivers down your arms and making you moan.

He sits back a little, his piercing gaze boring into you as he lifts his fingers to his lips, licking it clean. “So sweet,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving you, almost taunting your state of helplessness before him, and you twitch with pleasure.

“Shut u-” you demand, stopping short with a intake of breath as his tongue circles your nipple and he thrusts two fingers into your aching slit, expertly thrusting, stroking, caressing, hitting all the right spots as you can’t help but moan and fist his soft, red locks. His thumb finds your bud and rubs, with increasing pressure, matching the circling motions of his tongue. Hisoka pulls away and looks down at you, panting and wriggling beneath his touch, your words incoherent but eyes still fierce with power and control, and he finds himself growing harder, unbearably hungry. You feel his desire through his nen, bristling with lust, fingers coaxing you to bliss and eyes ravishing you unabashedly for everything you are and you feel yourself pushed nearer to the edge.

“I’m close,” you gasp, and you see Hisoka smirk dangerously as he pulls his fingers out of you. The pleasure that builds now cuts short, tapering off.

“Kisama,” you mutter in annoyance as you ram his body against the side of the lacquer dining table, pushing him into an upright, sitting position. He chuckles at your urgency and vexation yet remains turned on as you clutch your hairpin over his throat as a warning. His golden eyes are glazed over and quivering, a sign he is properly riled up, his hair now a mess, and his breathing is slightly heavier than before. You pull his large erection free from his underwear.

“You bastard. I’m not going to give you any time.” You growl, and his eyes grow more piercing.

You lower your soaking, aching pussy onto him. The stretch makes both of you groan in unison, and you almost come immediately from his entrance. He is huge in both girth and length, and it takes a while before you’re accustomed to his size. It was so long since you had proper sex with anyone. After he is buried in you to the hilt, you pause, glaring at him with a look aggressive with lust and a need for control. He moans in pleasure and you feel his grip on you tighten considerably. Then you move, slowly first, then quickening your pace, rolling and rubbing against him so his cock enters you at the best angles. His hands reach up to grab your hips, steadying you while he snaps up into you, pounding with such speed it makes your mind go blank with pleasure.

“Ahh-h—h!” you moan, louder this time, shaking with the mounting pleasure as he enters you fast, viciously, more than you can keep up with. You get wetter with each of his thrusts, squelching and slapping sounds filling empty room as he pulls out and fills you completely again with each punishing stroke. You feel yourself nearing your climax, your body swaying and jiggling with the rhythm as your bounce on Hisoka's cock, pressing your fingers harder around his body.

He senses it too, and growls, refusing to take his eyes from yours. You feel his nails rake your hips, grabbing your ass, pain and pleasure intermingling as your near your end. Waves of white-hot pleasure wash over you as you moan into your orgasm, your eyes closed in bliss as you tremble violently, clenching tightly around Hisoka, muttering curses as you come completely undone.

Before you have time to come down from your high, Hisoka pulls out, his rock-hard cock dripping with your honey, before grabbing you and laying you down on the table, towering over you once more. Then he fully sheaths himself inside you in one go, making you cry out at the jolt of oversensitivity as he pushes towards his own end. Using the slick from your orgasm, he goes even faster now, relentless, his hands holding your legs wide apart so he can have unfettered access to you while he slams into you without restraint.

"You like this, don't you? You like being punished like this?" He purrs with forcefulness, a sign he is close, lustful gaze boring into yours while he pummels into you.

You can't help but shudder at his words, but you spit out through gritted teeth. "Don't get cocky. And don't you dare finish inside, or I'll kill you before you are even done."

His control snaps. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. Then he pulls out and comes, moaning with deep satisfaction in your ear, his warm load spilling onto your stomach. After he finishes, you both gaze as each other for a while, barely out of breath, sweat glistening against skin. Your clothes are both in a mess and disarray, his hands are still spreading you wide and bare torso pressed against you as you both bask in the afterglow, sharing a moment to take in the surreal pleasure of what was an extremely unplanned but steaming hot round of sex.

"So with this, do we have a deal?" He breaks the silence with a devious smile.

"I'm not that cheap if you think once is enough." You retort as you clean up, pulling your clothes back on. "At least three more times, with an additional fee of 300,000 Jenny."

"Aren't you a greedy one," Hisoka smirks, tying his yukata back in place. "Alright. It's a deal, not like I'm complaining. I might deliver more than you ask for." His golden eyes travel across your body once more before meeting yours, and you can still see a faint glimmer of lust, ready to be reignited.

"Enjoying yourself?" An icy voice comes from the darkened doorway.

You don't even need to look to know who it is, recognizing the voice immediately. Cold grey eyes gaze at you from a figure leaning against the entryway.

"Chrollo," you almost spit out.

"Ah," says Hisoka naturally, "you're finally here."

You turn to scowl at Hisoka, realizing his blatant lie from earlier. You wonder for a moment how Chrollo even got in to the onsen without your notice, given that him and the troupe remain high up on your guest blacklist. Then you sense his nen, or rather his lack of it, a blur void except for the vague tinge of someone else’s foreign nen around his chest. A contract, then. He's harmless now.

Chrollo steps into the room, dressed elegantly in a black yukata, his hair let down comfortably. "Seems like you taste in men hasn't changed. I took a gamble on that." His steely grey gaze, piercing, calculating and formidable in confidence, still make you tremble a little, despite knowing him for years.

You take a while to understand and chuckle, looking from Chrollo to Hisoka. "Seems like we both got played."

The latter narrows his eyes at Chrollo before running his hand through his hair, sighing. "Well, as expected of him. Again, not like I'm complaining."

"Hisoka, leave us for a moment," you order.

"As you wish." You feel him step out but loiter along the corridor, waiting to pick up on the following conversation. Now it's just you and Chrollo left in the room. He doesn't move closer to you.

"It's been long. Too... long." Chrollo speaks, his voice calm but you detect a tinge of nostalgia, affection, regret and caution all entangled in one.

You know what he means. You can even see it now, the times he drove you wild, nearly killing you with nen. You can see all the times his lips met yours, growing a steady fire with a kiss, his fingers grazing your skin and making you moan and whimper while you grasp his hair tight in your hands, your mind blanking and feeling the universe come apart and stitch right back together...

"You won't be able to handle me now, in your current state. I would break you. It wont be pleasurable for any of us," you reply coolly. You catch the sound of a stifled laugh from the hallway outside. "Once you get your nen back, I just might reconsider."

You stand up, letting your silk robes fall gracefully past your knees once more. You arrange your bun and slip the onyx pin back into your hair.

"You can use the game tomorrow. I'll have it prepared. Tonight, I'll be busy receiving my payment. In full." You pause a little next to him, giving him one last, long look, before walking out the room and towards your quarters, Hisoka trailing behind.

Alone, Chrollo's eyes are deep and unreadable. Unconsciously, his hands are balled into tight fists by his sides. Then he breathes deeply, chuckling to himself.

What a woman. "Hisoka, you'd better get the job done. Fast."

---

Notes: omg this took way longer than i expected to!!! I’m quite proud of this one ;) I got inspired by a mobage card of hisoka, chrollo and the phantom troupe at an onsen and decided to do this imagine piece! Hope you enjoyed my fellow hisoka simps, it was so fun to write ;)

#hisoka morow x reader #hisoka morow #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #adultrio #adultrio x reader #hxh #hxh imagines #hunter x hunter #one shot

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phykios · 3 years

Text

honesty and promise me, part 5 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

Annabeth is making her periodic pilgrimage to the gynecologist when she gets Leo's call. It's very fitting--two uncomfortable and invasive things for the price of one. She answers her phone, ignoring the doctor's chastising frown. Surely she can place her new IUD while Annabeth deals with whatever Leo wants.

"What are you doing on the 18th?" he asks, about the only type of hello she ever gets from Leo.

The two of them never really grew out of pretending not to like each other, after they had gotten over their initial dislike. When he and Piper first got to Miss Minerva's, more or less straight out of juvie after Piper's dad made a lot of calls and called in a lot of favors, she and Leo had really hated each other. They used to fight over everything, from Piper's attention to the position of captain of the Mathletes team. And also, over Leo hating a rich white girl on principle, which, in retrospect, is totally fair. But then, by a weird twist of fate, they wound up in Boston together.

If Annabeth had to choose between hanging out with her creepy, Norse mythology-obsessed uncle and hanging out with Leo, she'd pick Leo every time. They had gone through a lot together, things both big and small.

"Of August?" she asks.

"Please be still, Ms. Chase," says her doctor. Annabeth rolls her eyes.

"Duh."

Wracking her thoughts she can't think of any prior commitments she might have had. Maybe there's a concert that day, but if she can't remember, it probably wasn't that important anyway. "Not much."

"Good, because we have plans."

She frowns. "Piper didn't mention any--"

"No, you and I have plans. I'll see you in Philly, yeah?"

Philadelphia? Ew. "Why Philly?"

"Our Smarter House thing won an award."

"No shit?"

"Eta Industries Award. The gala is on the 18th. You're my plus one."

She sucks in air through her teeth, readjusting her hips as unobtrusively as possible. Eta Industries was… a very big deal. "Isn't that, like, an engineering specific award? Maybe you should accept it by yourself." She'd be better off staying out of the limelight for this one, she thinks, even as some part of her longs once again for recognition.

Something electric whirs in the background, tinny and buzzing. "I'll see you on the 18th, then," says Leo, not having heard a word she said. "Also, you've been summoned to the castle."

"Leo--" she jumps as the gyno touches something she really shouldn't have.

"No arguments, she's expecting you today at two. Adios!" He clicks off.

"Okay, Ms. Chase," says the doctor, a little too chipper for Annabeth's taste. "You should be all set."

Annabeth leaves the doctor's office with her brand new IUD, a handful of medical literature which immediately gets tossed in the trash, and a sinking feeling in her gut as she gets on a train to Brooklyn, headed to Piper's place for another annoying and unnecessary fashion show. It's not that she doesn't enjoy being Piper's model--it's a position she's held since their time at Miss Minerva's, and it's never really a hardship to be told how gorgeous she is--but Piper has a way of just... getting information out of her that she doesn’t always want to share.

Stopping off early, Annabeth gives herself a moment to walk down the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, to settle her nerves and indulge herself a bit. That skyline gets her every time.

Turning down Pierrepont Street, she is once again struck by just how quiet the city can be. Manhattan is loud, rude, in-your-face, almost an entirely different world from the stately, deafeningly silent Brooklyn. For Annabeth, who is incapable of falling asleep without city horns blaring, it wigs her out a little.

She barely has time to ring the doorbell on Piper's dad's place before the girl herself wrenches it open, grabbing Annabeth's hand and yanking her inside. "You're late!" she trills, suffering what Annabeth can only assume is the onset of a caffeine overdose.

"I thought I had until two."

"That was before I had the best idea."

The brownstone is a mess, as per usual, reams of fabric tossed over every available surface, enough dressforms strewn about to make it look like Piper is hosting a party exclusively populated by headless zombies, adorned with a warehouse's worth of half-finished dresses and jackets. Based on the loud fabrics and structured angles, it looks like Piper is in the middle of a Klimt-ian phase of inspiration. Annabeth eyes a bright gold gown with a huge, extended collar, embroidered with silver eyes, the raw edges trailing the floor. "Please tell me this isn't your idea."

"First of all," Piper releases her arm as they enter her kitchen-turned-photo studio, gingerly stepping over a box of assorted beads, "even though it would look amazing on you, that dress is for an actual paying client. Second of all--" she snatches up a dressform from its position behind the camera, setting it down in front of her with a flourish. "This is my idea."

Annabeth was right--Piper is definitely on a Klimt-ian kick.

Pulled straight from her art history classes, the dress looks like a two dimensional painting come to life, a stunning skirt like a column of liquid silver descending onto the black mat, pleats like fluted columns precisely draped over the dressform's hips… and not much else. Annabeth points. “Is that it?”

Piper makes a face. "I have a bodice, promise. Now go take that shit off."

Annabeth looks down at her repurposed The Police shirt, fished out of a thrift store bin some months ago, shirt collar cut and sides resewn to bring the waistline in. "I like this shirt."

"Oh, I like the shirt plenty," she agrees. "But you could stand to wear a nicer pair of jeans."

She does have a point there--her jeans are clinging to life at this point, the knees and hems all but obliterated, strings of fabric valiantly attempting to hold their original shape. "Fine. Be right back."

When she emerges from the bathroom a minute later in just her bra and panties, Piper has laid out another bolt of fabric in that same color, silver with a blue shift beneath the studio lights. Piper, bent over with a strip of measuring tape, looks up at her, then squints. "So who is he?"

Annabeth starts. "Excuse me?"

"The guy you've been seeing."

How... the fuck does Piper always know these things? "I don't know what you're talking about."

She flicks her eyes down to Annabeth's thigh, Annabeth following her gaze to the remnants of the bruise that Percy had left there with his mouth two days ago. Dammit.

Piper tsks, a smile distorting the sound. "Naughty, naughty, Annabeth."

"How do you know it wasn't from a girl?" she asks, petulant.

"Because if it had been a girl, you wouldn't be nearly so defensive."

Shit. "We've been friends way too long," Annabeth grumbles.

"That we have," says Piper. "And out of respect for our friendship, I will refrain from grilling you about him until you are more comfortable sharing."

"So, for a few hours?"

She shrugs. "More or less."

"I suppose you want me to thank you for holding back."

"Don't thank me yet," she grins, wide and toothy. "I've been cooped up here working on my collection for three days, and I am dying to talk to someone."

Annabeth sighs, but obediently raises her arms, making room as Piper crouches down to pin the skirt on her. "Okay, you got me. I'm seeing this guy."

"Seeing or seeing-seeing?"

"Just seeing," she clarifies. "It's pretty casual."

"Can't be that casual if you're telling me about it," Piper points out.

Fuck. This is why she never tells Piper about her hookups. "You're the one who asked."

"Another business bro, I assume?"

"He's--" Piper swats at her as she automatically sucks her stomach in, their long held code for "stay put." "He's a dancer."

She hums, arranging pleats over Annabeth's knees. "Like on Broadway?"

"Ballet."

Piper glances up at her, eyes sparkling. “Un danseur! Ooh la la,” she trills. “What’s his name?”

“I can just leave,” Annabeth says, distinctly not thinking about how Percy will occasionally slip into French whenever he stubs his toe.

“Okay, okay, no more boy talk.” Piper moves in front of her, adjusting the fabric about her waist. “Tell me about the thing you just won with Leo.”

“I had honestly forgotten about it,” she says, lying a little, pulling her arms forward. “You remember his master’s thesis?”

“The shmart kishen thing, right?” Piper asks around the tape measure in her mouth.

Leo, the prodigal boy that he is, had spent his last year of school dedicated to a singular problem faced by people around the world: the sudden, out of control kitchen fire. Using very complicated electronics and engineering that Annabeth does not understand, he devised a handful of mechanisms to sense, contain, and ultimately douse random fires as soon as they popped up. Annabeth came on as his design partner after he had graduated and had gotten some funding to conceptualize an entire safe house.

“Well, it just won an Eta Industries award.”

Her head snaps up, hands freezing in their tracks. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Congrats.”

“Thanks,” she shrugs as Piper gets up to grab some more fabric. “I mean, it was mostly Leo’s doing. I just made sure he didn’t leave any stray pipes around.”

Holding out her arms again, Piper slides them through the sleeves of a heavy, corset-like piece, structured and straight and very forgiving on Annabeth’s lack of curves. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short,” she says. “I’m sure your skills as a guinea pig were very valuable.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Annabeth asks, she who has literally burnt pasta while it was submerged in water.

“You’re just lucky my dad was out of town that weekend. Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the awards ceremony?”

She shoots her friend a strange look. “I thought I was wearing this?” she gestures to the unfinished silver gown currently making her feel like an absolute goddess.

Piper makes a face. “What do I look like, the fucking Flash? This isn’t going to be ready for another thirty hours, at least. I’ve got decals to add, Swarovskis to bead, not to mention all the hand-stitching on the neckline because for whatever reason my machine has decided to hate me this week.”

“Okay, well,” says Annabeth, appropriately cowed, “then I guess I’ll wear the black one you gave me.”

“2019 fall/winter?”

Annabeth nods.

“Styling?”

“Luke gave me this really nice scarf for my birthday.”

Throwing her head back, she groans.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“You’re so boring,” she moans, pulling Annabeth’s hair out of the way. “Let me guess, you’re going to pair it with the black shrug and opaque nude tights.”

“Well… yeah, I was.”

“Exactly! Boring.” Coming back around, she pushes Annabeth lightly into the light, before taking her place behind the camera. “You could do so much with that dress and you choose to make it boring. Why not some fishnets? Or a big statement necklace?”

Annabeth waits after a few shutter clicks to answer. “Because I doubt that the people at Eta Industries are going to be big fans of my tattoos.”

“That is a bald-faced lie and you know it,” Piper says. “Your tattoos and piercings are gorgeous and you would look absolutely rocking with them. Knock all the old farts right off their feet. Turn.”

Obediently, Annabeth rotates, letting Piper snap off as many pictures as she likes. “This isn’t a Vogue event, Pipes,” she says, rolling her eyes where her friend can’t see them. “Punk isn’t exactly accepted practice yet.”

“Punk was the Met Gala theme almost a decade ago, babe. It has filtered down from Vogue. It's practically cerulean now. Side.”

Annabeth turns again, keeping her eyes straight. Side-eye would ruin the shot, no matter how much she wants to give it.

“I will never understand why you both refuse to wear halfway decent jeans and then refuse to go guns out in my dresses that demand it. I can almost guarantee you that Leo will show up in those stupid suspenders with grease on his face. And you’ll have to get him to leave his tool belt in the car.”

“Then it’s probably for the best that I have a modicum of professionalism, huh?”

Piper leans out from behind the camera, glaring. “At the very least,” she hedges, “will you let me set you up with some shoes?”

“I don’t know…”

“You are not allowed to wear those horrid Manolo pumps you wear everywhere. And your nude Louboutins won’t look right with the black.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Piper’s grin is evil, and the way she scampers out of the room means she’s got something she’d been trying to force on Annabeth for a long time.

Five minutes later, Annabeth is presented with a set of black strappy sandals, its edges detailed in a gold zipper, with safety pin pull to match. She frowns. “Are you sure? They look kind of… hardcore for something like this.”

“They’re Versace,” Piper says. “I was not lying about punk’s democratization.”

Well. They are pretty cool.

“It’s either this or the McQueen boots. They have studs.”

Annabeth sighs, holding out her hand. Piper squeals, bouncing a little, wrapping her in a brief, but exuberant hug, kissing her cheek with a loud, wet, smack. “You’re the best!”

“I haven’t even done anything.”

“I am saving up favors to cash in. Now,” she releases Annabeth, retreating behind the camera. “If you’ve got some time, can I borrow your head? I’m working on a helmet and all my mannequins are busy.”

***

“Hey,” Percy begins. It is so late at night, the dawn is on the edge of breaking, and they are both exhausted from some particularly good sex. Which is saying something, because all their sex is particularly good. “You doing anything on the 18th?”

“Yeah,” She says, distractedly, snuggling down into his bed. The fact that she’s also snuggling into him is just a coincidence.

“Oh.”

“Why?”

“Nothing. Was going to invite you to a thing if you weren’t.” She nods her head against his shoulder and falls asleep in his arms, thinking absolutely nothing about it.

She continues to think nothing of it on the train to Philadelphia on the 18th, half-asleep and listening to Paramore to pass the time, blasting Misery Business on repeat as she changes in her hotel room.

The Eta Industries event is pretty much exactly what she expected: a lot of old rich white people milling about, sipping champagne and verbally circle jerking each other, the insipid strains of classical music spilling out of the ballroom as Annabeth steps up to claim her name tag. “Name?” asks the young, college-aged girl, skimming her printed guest list over the rim of her glasses.

“Annabeth Chase.”

She runs a long fingernail over the assorted collection of name tags, before settling on the correct one, handing it to Annabeth, her star tattoo on the inside of her wrist free and open to anyone who would care to look. “Here you are, Ms. Chase,” she says, smiling. “Have a wonderful night!”

Automatically, Annabeth goes to pin it on Luke’s scarf, before she remembers that something is already occupying that place--Percy’s Acropolis pin. She had taken to keeping it in her pocket these days, something of a good luck charm, and thought that it might… she doesn’t know, maybe send a subconscious signal to Percy that she’s thinking of him. Even though there is, quite literally, no way he could know, she hopes that maybe he can sense it, and that maybe he’s thinking about her, too.

Ugh. She snatches up a flute of champagne from a wandering waiter, eager to get that thought out of her head, making a beeline straight for the refreshments table. It’s there that Leo finds her, not five minutes later, munching on some chocolate covered strawberries.

“And here I thought you might ditch me entirely,” he says, even as he bumps her shoulder. True to form, he is absolutely, 100% dressed in those stupid suspenders, a smudge of grease behind his ear.

“You’ve got a…” Annabeth trails off, motioning behind her own ear.

“Huh? Oh!” He snatches up a napkin, rubbing discreetly. “Thanks.”

She squints. Something about him is distinctly different. “Are you taller?”

Kicking out a foot, he wiggles it, triumphant. “Platform shoes.”

“Seriously?”

“Hey, if they're good enough for Robert Downey Jr., then they’re good enough for me. After all, I am Ir--”

She groans, good-natured, taking another gulp of champagne. “If you quote Marvel in your speech, I’m leaving.”

“Fine by me, Your Highness, they’ll give me the award either way.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Valdez?” The same college girl from before sidles up to them, clipboard clutched in her hand. “They’re about to start.”

He claps his hands, rubbing them together. “Excellent. You coming?”

“I…” She casts her gaze to the makeshift stage they’ve constructed, eyeing the bright “Eta Industries” placard, the sharp angles shiny and alluring, the siren-song of recognition.

This is a big deal. There are photographers in the audience. In the write-ups and reviews, she would be listed as a co-winner of the award, a co-designer of the world’s safest house, a thought so happy she practically starts flying.

“I think I should stay out of the limelight for this one, Leo,” she says, politely. “This is your moment. I don’t want to ruin it.”

He frowns. “You sure?”

Were it not for the fact that people were watching, Annabeth would have leapt up onto that stage without a second thought, snatching up the trophy like she had just won the Oscar, holding it up like the goddamn Olympic torch. “What, you want a white woman stealing your glory?” she says instead, arching a brow.

“You get a pass this one time,” he quips, holding out his hand. “Don’t make me regret it.”

Whatever social grace she has left crumbles. She’s denied it enough--she wants to be up there. “Oh, fine. Since you insist,” she says, following clipboard-girl to the stage.

There’s a quick burst of feedback, then an elderly gentleman at the podium begins speaking into the mic. “Excuse me--sorry about that. Yes, yes, thank you all for coming tonight to the annual Eta Industries awards presentation ceremony. It is always such a pleasure to come together with our hard-working and generous board members and shareholders to honor the best and brightest upcoming talent in engineering.”

Internally, she rolls her eyes. Rich people.

“It is my pleasure, however, to introduce the young man who is the recipient of this year’s Millennium Prize for innovation and safety. One of MIT’s youngest and most decorated graduates, he was a recipient of the Mead Prize for Students, the Friedman Young Engineer Award, and the Collingwood Prize, among several others. His master’s thesis, ‘Towards the Design and Implementation of Autonomous Safety Measures in Commercial Kitchens,’ formed the basis of the project which we recognize tonight, the so-called ‘SmartSafe House,’ reflects the pioneering spirit and outstanding creative vision of not only Eta Industries, but also the field of engineering as a whole. Please join me in congratulating this year’s Millennium Prize recipient, Leo Valdez.”

From the sidelines, she claps enthusiastically with the rest of the crowd as her friend takes the stage, shakes hands with the Vice President of Eta Industries, and accepts the award, a blue, blocky triangle which almost seems to glow in the light of the ballroom. “Thank you, Mr. Helms. This is--this is a really big honor.”

She can see him shaking a bit, taking a quick drink from his water glass. Public speaking was never really his strong suit.

“As--as a lot of you probably know, this project is very near and dear to my heart. Growing up in Houston with my mother, a car mechanic, I was eight years old when her beloved shop went up in flames, like that.” He snaps his fingers, his other hand pressed to the podium where no one can see, joints white with pressure. Annabeth is proud of him--he hasn’t been able to speak this candidly about it in years. She knows firsthand how much his mother’s near-death haunts him still. “Thankfully, we were able to rebuild, and my mother went on to bigger and better things--including a shop with cleaner vents. But I can definitely pinpoint that moment as the day I knew I wanted to make the world a safer place, for my mom, if not for everyone else.”

She remembers, so clearly, that snowy night in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. The power had gone out, and Leo had made them an illicit campfire out of their trash bin and Annabeth’s failed English exam. Cold and miserable and with dying phones, they passed the time instead telling scary stories and funny memories, until the conversation had gotten suddenly, intensely real.

“But I would be remiss,” he goes on, cheerful, “if I didn’t acknowledge my friend and collaborator, without whose work I wouldn’t be here today: Annabeth Chase,” he waves to his side, indicating her. The whole crowd, as one, turns their gazes on her. She straightens up, imperceptibly, hoping she doesn’t look too haughty or anything. “I’ve never been very good with people. My mama says I’m just like my dad that way. Give me a car, or a computer, or pages of multiplication tables, and I’m golden. But people?” He blows out a breath, and the crowd chuckles, naturally. “Now, if it had been left up to me, the SmartSafe House would have been a top of the line, cutting-edge metal box, efficient to a fault, but completely unlivable. Thank God I had Annabeth on my team to remind me what the project was really about: a home that families could feel safe in, so that what happened to me and my mom might never happen to anyone else.” He hoists his award above his head, leaning into the mic. “Ma, este es para ti. Thank you all.”

Stepping down from the stage, they reenter the crowd, ready to receive adoration. In another life, she might have been embarrassed by such praise. Here and now, however, she takes each handshake and word of congratulations like a starving man in a desert who just came across an oasis, hungry and greedy.

Hey, it’s her night, too.

After what feels like a whole-ass sixty minutes of shaking old people's hands and polite nodding, though, she is in desperate need of a break. Escaping the throng of mingling bodies, she darts into a dark corner of the ballroom, leaning against the back of a rounded stone column, just barely out of sight of the party.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she sighs, just short of a scream. Blowing out all her air, she lets the faint music and fake laughs melt into each other, becoming white noise, a blank canvas, empty of concrete thoughts and feelings.

Then, her ear picks up a strand of conversation.

“...announcing tomorrow that the CEO of Pallas Inc. is choosing a successor,” a woman says, the sneer in her voice almost visible. “About time.”

“I thought she already picked a successor,” says the woman’s conversation partner, a man with the kind of cookie-cutter cadence that she heard every time she took a business major to bed. “Pallas is a family business, isn’t it?”

“You haven’t heard?” Annabeth can almost picture it, the furtive glance around the room, the woman placing her hand on her partner’s arm, leaning in to share a juicy secret. “Supposedly she was grooming her daughter for the role, before she went in for rehab.”

“Rehab? Really?”

“What else could it be?” says the woman. “She’s disappeared off the face of the earth, and her mother refuses to talk about her. Let’s be honest, if she were dead, she would have raised a bigger stink about it.”

Annabeth closes her eyes, sucking air in through her teeth. That… wasn’t totally untrue.

But the woman doesn’t stop. “It’s always the same story,” she scoffs. “You throw countless hours of schooling and millions of dollars into girls like her, and what do they do? Turn around and blow it all on drugs and partying. Honestly, she should be grateful her mother is even bothering with her rehab at all. Hasn’t she wasted enough of the family’s money already?”

Blood roars in her ears, drowning out the fancy party. Sharp points dig into her palm, pinpricks of pain, before she realizes that they’re her own fingernails.

The lady has got it all wrong. Her mom couldn’t even be bothered with that.

Luke’s scarf, the shrug, it’s choking her, suffocating and constricting. Percy’s pin feels heavy on her chest.

Blinders on, she would have sprinted for the exit were it not for the Piper’s stupid Versace heels, reduced instead to a teetering, tottering wreck, like a baby colt running from a predator. The night is hot and humid, heavy with the threat of rain, and Annabeth can barely breathe, dark spots in her eyes, until she ducks into a nearby Target, the frigid blast of air a welcome distraction.

Almost in a daze, she watches herself pick up a few things--clippers, an electric razor, beef jerky, a blue Gatorade she considers for a moment before putting it back, choosing a lemonade instead--practically throwing them at the poor cashier who begins checking her out, mechanically. He doesn’t spare her a single glance for her odd assortment of items. He doesn’t even look at her at all.

The walk to her hotel room disappears in the blink of an eye. Blink--she breezes past the check-in counter, slipping into the empty elevator. Blink--she kicks off her heels in her room, nearly hitting the wall mirror, leaving a scuff mark on the white plaster. Blink--she’s down to her underwear and tights in the bathroom, shaving the right side of her curls clean off. She’d gotten them professionally done for the night, perfect spirals held together by expensive products. And now she wants them gone.

She pauses and breathes too hard, looking at herself in the mirror. Her mother didn’t like that she was blonde. Maybe because of dumb blonde stereotypes, maybe just because it reminded Athena too much of her failed romance with Annabeth’s dad. And that thought stays her hand from getting rid of the rest of them.

That, and maybe the idea of Percy, of some broke dancer, tangling his fingers in it as they lie together.

Fuck her mother, and the fucking stories she tells.

She likes it. She likes her blonde hair and her fresh undercut.

She can get Thalia to touch this up later, maybe. Now, though, she needs this.

It doesn’t look perfect. The left side of hair is too long, her gold laurel earrings too fancy for a homegrown haircut like this, her makeup too pristine. Shoving her hand under the running water, she rubs at her eyes, mascara and eyeliner smearing until they’ve reached something much more respectable for the failure that she really is.

She misses her industrial. And her eyebrow rings. And the tongue piercing. But this will have to do for now.

Breathing heavily, eyes hot, she doesn’t register her phone blinking, signaling an unread text message.

It’s from Thalia. surprised you weren’t at kelp heads bday party, it reads. was pretty boring. Kno he missed you

#backstory backstory backstoryyyyyyy #my fic #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #ballet au

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izayaslaptop · 2 years

Text

🇮 🇿 🇦 🇧 🇺 🇰 🇺 🇷 🇴

summary: A fic ill never have the energy to write.

Izaya: high end call girl who knows about all the intimate parts of ikebukuro's underground a little too much for just a call girl.

Shinra: getting through school w their whore money.

Celty: trying to clean the streets and kill Shinra’s Trust fund (izaya ) and figure out what the fuck the underground is up to. Shizuo is a new bodyguard

Shizuo: is broke af and not allowed back in school so he dropped out and izaya hires him and he doesn't know what izaya does, is under the impression he's a girl at first and is head over heels and remains so after finding out who izaya is and what he does bc he ain’t no bitch

(Also izaya “cross dressing” in the words of some characters but ultimately that's not what's going on.) Shizuo and Kanra/Izaya are gonna have a moment where Shizuo is like “why do you do that do you wanna be a girl” bc he stupid and izaya answering honestly says sometimes and then Shizuo is the first person to use her preferred range of pronouns indefinitely) to clarify izaya is genderfluid but has recently been more accepting of the fact that kanra isn’t just a persona to him anymore.

Izayas top client is shiki but he’s not fucking shiki. when they first meet and whore is doing as a whore does when called shiki states he not interested in kids (Kanra is 23 still , shiki is 32 he just feels izaya is too young for his taste) and what they’re really doing is taking over the underground with promise of paying izaya off enough to leave with shinra and Shizuo possibly overseas

Shiki is using them but they are using each other. Generally it’s okay between them because they both benefit. And maybe he saves izaya once bc as annoying and deceitful as he is , he’s very unique. And smart and a secret weapon nobody else has.

Tom is shizuos first friend when he moves in with izaya bc he lives in the apartment below them and makes small talk. And at first he thinks he’s someone looking for izaya but then he realizes he doesn’t get mixed up w him bc she’s dangerous and he actually wanted to befriend Shizuo.

Kyohei and the gang work as transportation for the call girls but izaya mostly only likes kyohei taking him to and from

Namie and Verona are a couple. But she’s working w izaya bc of some shit she got in to that nobody knows abt. And Verona works w Celty trying to get to the bottom of all the crime. She and Verona parallel Celty and shinra in that sense

Izaya and shinra have a huge fight when he finds out abt Celty and izaya runs away to shiki much to his (shiki) dismay. Shizuo is worried and jealous bc he thinks shiki is rich and nice enough and izaya would’ve ran off w him if she didn’t care abt shinra and him but now maybe he doesn’t because he cares about shinra the most and they were scrapping !

Meanwhile shiki has the displeasure of izaya bitching 24/7. Izayas all “he betrayed me blah blah and shinra is all I’m smart she has no clue we know each other” and shiki and Shizuo are all “you’re best friends but your life’s don’t have to concern each other’s extracurriculars just make up”. It takes a few days before they’re even ready to consider it.

Verona stabs Kanra, yeah. Canon. And she stabs him Bc she sees him with Namie in a cafe disguised as Kanra and afterwards sees him chatting it up w some Awakusu and thinks he’s setting namie up to be kidnapped. Also she’s just a jealous wife bc atp the secrecy of Namies work with izaya has been growing and Verona has thought she’s been hiding something for a while now. Just not ...an affair.

Little explanation:

Verona knows of kanra but not of izaya. They are the same person. So kanra on paper is some awakusu concubine who helps them with their small dirty work but she’s still a gateway to bigger messes Verona has no clue where she lives or comes from Bc she turns into izaya after a certain city block

Izaya is bleeding out in the dark and it’s raining but Shizuo finds him because he’s angrily hopelessly walking around and that’s how he ends up back home w shinra fixing him. he’s in shittt condition bc he’s been really depressed lately so it takes him longer than usual to recover which makes both his jobs harder.

Shizuo wants to know who stabbed him but izaya won’t say because everything will blow up too soon if he explains he’s not just a call girl.

At this moment my friend asked what would happen should he tell Shizuo. In summary: No! If he tells Shizuo and Shizuo hunts down Verona and spills abt Namie then Namie spills about knowing Kanra then Verona would know to look for information about Shizuo who’s easy to trace and finds out about izaya. And also he knows Celty via shinra so if Celty saw him attack Verona or she caught wind of it then shinra would have to explain who izaya is.

Back to the plot

Anyways shizuo does the smart thing and finds shiki because izaya keeps asking abt him. And he tearing that man a new one bc

“Izaya loves you and you don’t deserve it but someone did a shitty thing to him because of you and you need to fix it bc he’s not just a booty call and I’ll only make it worse”

And shiki is like “yeah I’m Not sleeping with that insufferable brat but I am fond of him, not romantically, so I will do something and idk who you are but you better not get in the way of us because me thinks you’re the one that’s made his desperate flirting stop” aka someone actually has influence over what izaya may decide in the future and that shiki is too dangerous and leave their plan.

Let’s face the facts, izaya is desperate and lonely and even though he know shiki wouldn’t wipe his ass w him he still flirts. Rejection kink ig. Got to be. Get off the floor. Fatherless behavior.

Anyways they share a smoke like manly men. And mid smoke shiki is like “No bullshit will you take care of her when all of this is done. I don’t want her caught up in the aftershock”. Shizuo who’s heart is CLENCHING at the thought of izaya being entrusted him just knows he loves that bitch more than humanly possibly just goes “I don’t think my body would let me do anything else” BECAUSE Even when izaya was taking his day out on him he wanted to hug her and when izaya was flirting bc he wanted to be comforted not because he liked him and he knew Shizuo wouldn’t deny him he still wanted to give in so izaya would feel comforted.

And my parting words because this post is long but there’s still a second half that starts like this:

#shizaya #archive #word doc #izaya orihara #shizuo heiwajima

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mordoriscalling · 3 years

Text

The Colour-Magic Theory (1/?)

Intro

Here comes part 1 of me playing with magic and giving myself Geraskier feels. Hope you enjoy! (Also, no beta, pls have mercy.)

***

From a look, a song and unwanted friendship, new lives are born. The stack of firewood is swallowed up by flames the moment Geralt casts Igni.

“Oh, I love that trick,” Jaskier says and puts his hands close to the fire, warming them after his fingers got stiff from playing the lute in the chill of the autumn evening. “Why don’t you use it every time, I wonder?” the bard asks, observing his companion sitting across the bonfire. “It’s so much easier.”

The witcher only grunts in reply, as is his way, and continues munching on a strip of beef jerky. Jaskier, however, isn’t deterred by the silence, and continues staring at Geralt expectantly. His questioning gaze is like a physical touch. It sends a tingling sensation down the witcher’s spine, the way it always does.

With a resigned sigh, Geralt answers, “I usually want to save my magic for when I really need it, but you were whining so much about the cold that I just wanted to shut you up quicker.”

Jaskier gasps and lays a hand on his breast, about to dramatically take offence, but doesn’t voice his hurt in the end. Something else intrigued him. “Save your magic?” he asks, “what do you mean?”

The witcher measures the bard with the blank “no more questions” look for long enough that any sane person would give up. Jaskier isn’t exactly sane, in Geralt’s (and some others’) opinion, and stares at the witcher right back, unmoved. When it comes to stubbornness, their relation is a diamond cut diamond type of situation.

Finally, Geralt gives in, huffing in irritation. “Magic always has a price. When you take power from Chaos, you have to give something back. The give and take tends to affect your physiological well-being, especially when the stakes are high.”

“So...” Jaskier begins, confused about his understanding of the matter, “casting signs weakens you and that’s why you don’t use magic often?”

“No,” the witcher answers, confusing his companion even further, “My extra mutations... they must’ve changed it. Using magic doesn’t have any effect on my body at all.”

“Fascinating,” Jaskier replies, then immediately gets up to rummage through his travel pack. He comes back to sit across Geralt with a notebook and a pencil in his hand. “What is the price you pay, then?” he asks the witcher and starts writing something in the notebook without waiting for a reply.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “I haven’t told anyone about this.” The bard’s head snaps up and he stares at Geralt in shock. Then, understanding dawns on his face. “Oh.” He clears his throat. “Alright.” The next moment, the page is torn out of the notebook. It lands in the bonfire and turns into ash. Geralt stares into the flames silently while Jaskier waits for him to speak up.

“My powers deplete themselves,” the witcher says, “It takes time for the magic to return.”

“Peculiar,” the bard remarks, “And a pretty shitty deal, too. I’d rather have it affect my physiology than have to wait after every silly spell.”

Geralt shakes his head. “There’s something else. It’s... hard to explain. In a way, I can negotiate with Chaos. Make my magic not exhaust itself as quickly as it should. It’s useful when I’m in a fight.” His mouth sets into a grim line. “I still haven’t figured out the price I pay for that, though.”

Jaskier smiles a wry little smile, not commenting for once, and Geralt lets himself look at the bard, who meets his eye squarely. The bright gold connects with the cornflower blue and time stands still. Just between the two of them, the colour of the bard’s irises is suddenly so vibrant that it alerts Geralt’s witcher instincts. Jaskier tends to have that effect on him. The bard is always full of energy – all flutter and movement, brightness and sounds – and it’s too much not to be suspicious. Too much for Geralt’s heightened senses as well; Jaskier’s constant chatter almost gives him a headache every day. His singing is even more bothersome, considering that Geralt’s medallion reacts to it.

“Maybe the price is putting up with you,” the witcher jokes, deadpan. “You!” Jaskier cries, directing an accusing pointing finger at Geralt, “You bastard! I’m a delight and a gift to this world!”

Geralt huffs out a laugh but does nothing to deny it. Jaskier may be annoying and strange but he’s a blessing all the same. Since he joined Geralt two years ago, he’s been working relentlessly on improving Geralt’s image and changing the public perception of all witchers. The bard wants him reborn as a hero, which is a fool’s errand, but he’s grateful for it anyway. The thank-you gets stuck in Geralt’s throat whenever he wants to say it, even though he’s already less spat at in villages. Thankfully, Jaskier seems to understand. Many things pass between them with little words.

Later, when they lay down to sleep, Jaskier’s quiet question reaches the witcher’s ears.

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm.”

The bard walks a few steps ahead of Geralt, who follows him on his horse’s back. Jaskier is composing. He’s always in front of Roach when he’s preoccupied with the creative process. The song about the healing of the Striga that he’s working on is in the middle stages – the first version of lyrics is ready but every single line needs perfecting. This is exactly what Jaskier is doing now: trying out the sound of every word and looking for ones that fit the melody better.

The bard is so engrossed with the task that he doesn’t notice the obvious – how the nature around him moves to get closer to his voice. Geralt’s keen eyes notice the way each straw of grass and every leaf lean in, just a touch, to “listen”. The air has gone completely still and the meadow is eerily silent; even Roach seems to be holding her breath. Geralt’s medallion vibrates.

The witcher decides that this moment is as good as any to confront the issue.

“You’re not human.” Jaskier freezes in his tracks, his body going rigid with tension. The acidic stench of fear fills the air and Geralt shifts in the saddle, disturbed by the smell for the first time in decades. “I am not,” Jaskier replies, his back to the witcher. “Do you want to tell me?” Geralt prompts, his voice gentle like it almost never is. The bard turns to face him, face pale and hands trembling. “You really don’t know what I am?” “You should be the one to say it,” the witcher answers softly. Jaskier releases a shaky breath and nods. Stepping off the path, he walks into the tall grasses and strums his lute. When he opens his mouth, he sings in a language which the witcher has never heard in his long life. The tongue consists mostly of croons, trills, whistles and swishing sounds, and it’s enchanting even to Geralt’s ears. The air becomes thick with power immediately. It’s not Chaos, however. It’s a whole different type of magic.

The fae are creatures of nature – they are born from its energy. Guarding its Order and sustaining its sacred rhythms is their ancient task that they’ve always been fulfilling, hidden away in their own dimension of the world. They belong to the magic of nature and they don’t move out of it. Usually.

Jaskier didn’t belong anywhere, not until recently. His rhythm has always been too fast. He flutters from place to place, both quickly bored and immensely fascinated with everything and anything. The skies have always drawn him in the most – he still dreams of being a bird and flying anywhere he wants. In the end, Jaskier’s Queen found his temperament unbearable enough that she didn’t clip his wings any longer and allowed him to mingle with mortals.

Jaskier’s done his fair share of that, along with quite some mischief, but his life of adventure truly began only when he saw the brooding loner in Posada. The man’s restrained disposition and the guarded gold of his eyes were arresting, intriguing. Jaskier instantly wanted to know what secrets the witcher held. A few years later, he’s sure he won’t ever grow tired of uncovering them – every little bit of information, of understanding Geralt better, sends a thrill of rightness and belonging through his being.

Freeing his magic puts him at ease, lets him truly breathe. And so, the bard carries on singing, not afraid anymore. He smiles, radiating happiness. His glamour has dropped a bit and his sharp fangs are showing but the witcher only smiles back with the tiny upturn of his lips. Jaskier laughs in between the lines because from this moment on, he’s well and truly safe.

When the song ends, the meadow is completely silent for a moment, then the buzz of insects picks up anew and the gentle gust of wind returns.

“You’ve said enough,” Geralt remarks, and that’s all he has to say on the matter.

After that, the bard opens up to his companion even more, if that’s even possible. Geralt has a suspicion that Jaskier’s chatter was to serve as a distraction from his magic. Now that it’s out in the open, Jaskier’s silences, previously almost non-existent, has got longer. The bard doesn’t shy away from using his power around the witcher, too, and uses it in various ways to make their lives easier. He enchants a client into compliance when they don’t want to give Geralt the promised pay, or asks plants and animals to tell them where the nearest shelter is. When Geralt has a restless night, Jaskier’s humming puts him to sleep. The witcher’s medallion always vibrates then but Geralt isn’t alarmed by it any longer. It’s become a welcome thrum.

Their dynamic changes but they don’t look for any ways to describe it; they simply live the new way and enjoy it. The lazy, warm afternoons are the most pleasant, when Geralt stretches out in a shade of some tree and dozes off to the sounds of Jaskier's lute. Other times Geralt uses Aard to toss some object and Jaskier tries to catch it, laughing, his giggles lovelier than the tinkle of silver bells. Chaos and Order swirl around them, the sky is blue and the sun shines bright on the lush green grass. It could mean nothing or it could mean the world but what matters is that they both find peace. This is why Geralt doesn’t call Jaskier his friend – the word doesn’t fit.

Then Cintra happens and they part ways for three whole years.

TBC

Part 2

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #The C-M Theory AU #magical!Geralt #fae!jaskier

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suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

Headstrong

Part Two

Summary: Their first training session goes well ... but ends on an awkward note. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC Word Count: 1840 Warnings: Nudity (in words only, ha). A/N: Taglist is open, you can be added to the one for this fic or Buckvember simply by sending an ask. Happy Reading!

PS: This GIF is not technically applicable to this chapter, but it seemed a good excuse for Seb tummy porn. You’re welcome.

Series Masterlist

They started the very next day with an early morning run. Bucky hadn’t run in a while, and it was nice to have Haven with him to push him a little further than he thought he could go.

“You’ve stayed in good shape for being out for a year,” he congratulated before downing half the contents of a water bottle back at the gym behind Haven’s house.

She nodded. “I didn’t want to lose momentum. I got my pro bid right before the — right before I got hurt. It wasn’t something I was going to pass up or miss out on for too long.”

“I like your determination. Finish off that water, then let’s do some drills.”

Haven nodded and did as she was told. She went for her wraps on the shelf and started to do them herself, but Bucky intervened.

“Lemme help,” he offered.

“I’ve got it,” she shrugged.

Bucky shrugged, too. They were going to need time to get to know each other and be comfortable with each other, he understood that. While she finished wrapping, he tossed off the gloves he had been wearing while they ran, and the hoodie he’d had on, too. A couple of minutes later, Haven approached him next to a large punching bag. She nodded toward his left arm.

“Quite the prosthetic, coach.”

Bucky cleared his throat and nodded but gave no more acknowledgment to her comment. “All right. You ready?”

She took her stance — a little rusty but muscle memory had her mostly in position. Bucky helped her adjust, apologizing when the cool metal of his prosthetic arm sent her into a small shiver. He got back behind the bag and nodded.

“We’ll throw combos first,” Bucky informed her. “Pretty basic today, I’ve got to catch up on what you can do, so I know how to coach you.”

Haven nodded her understanding and listened carefully to the combos he called out, executing them with the same intensity she would in a fight. Bucky was impressed. She was in the middleweight class, he knew, but he had no doubts she could hold her own in fights with girls twice her size.

After combos, they got into the ring. Bucky gave her some footwork warm-ups to do while he wrapped his own hands and pulled on some gloves. Maybe he didn’t need it for his left hand, but with equipment like that, he figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

After a few hours of training, Bucky could see that she was waning. She didn’t seem the type to speak up when she needed to stop, so Bucky took them through a cool-down, then dismissed her for the day.

“Good session, Coach. Thanks.”

Bucky nodded. “You did good today, I’m impressed. No reason why we can’t push off from where you are and make your first pro round a championship.”

“You think so?” Her eyes lit up like Bucky had yet to see.

“Yeah, absolutely.” He hung up his gloves and worked the wraps off of his hands. “I’m going to go grab some lunch, do you wanna join?”

Haven stopped abruptly. “Oh, actually, I — I have plans. Thanks, though. I’m sure you’ve got your own place, but there’s showers back here, if you want to clean up before you head out.”

She rushed for the back to the locker room, leaving Bucky to finishing packing up the equipment that had used to practice that day. He wondered if he had done something wrong to make her … what? Intimidated of him? Dislike him a little? Could be that it had nothing to do with Bucky.

Maybe it’s the arm, his mind offered. Bucky shook his head, forcing away the negativity. He’d had a prosthetic for a while now, and since getting this latest one, he had grown accustomed to people’s reactions to the strange technology. Hell, even he’d had to get used to the newest arm when the doctors first fitted him with it. Wasn’t a bad thing if Haven needed to get used to it, too, he supposed. She would come around.

Picking up his bag, Bucky fished his phone out and called Steve to see if his friend was available to meet for lunch.

“Yeah, I’ve got time. Meet you at Wanda’s in an hour?”

“Perfect, see you there.”

Disconnecting the call, he pushed into the locker room and shoved the phone in his bag. About the time he looked up was about the time Haven looked up from drying her legs and shrieked.

“What the hell?! Get out!” she exclaimed, scrambling to cover the good bits with her towel and retreating behind a tiled wall. “What are you doing in here?!”

Bucky had already slapped his hand over his eyes and was stumbling against the wall, fumbling for the door handle so he could leave. “I’m so sorry, I just — I was on the phone, I didn't think about knocking or anything.”

“There’s a men’s room!”

“Yeah, wasn’t paying attention,” he called out, finally finding the door handle and liberating himself from an extremely embarrassing situation.

His shower would just have to wait — not a chance he was staying on the property a second longer than he needed today.

Bucky dropped into a booth at Wanda’s cafe and asked for a cup of black coffee. The redhead smirked.

“Rough day in the gym, Buck?”

“Rough day in the locker room,” he sighed. “Steve’s joining me, better bring a water for him.”

Wanda nodded and went to retrieve the drinks. Having skipped the shower, Bucky arrived early enough before Steve, he was on to a second cup of coffee before his friend arrived.

“I’ve got exactly fifty-three minutes,” Steve informed when he dropped into the booth. He called out to the counter, “I’ll have the usual, Wan. And a cuppa.”

“Me too,” Bucky added. “Big case?”

Steve nodded, taking a long drink from his water. “Yeah, we’re on a hot lead. I’m waiting for SWAT to get back to me so I know if I can go question my guy.”

Bucky smirked. “Well, don’t let me take too much of your time, Detective.”

“Ha,” Steve snorted, “please take my time. Especially if it involves you out in public. How’d the first session go?”

Bucky licked his lips. “She pushed me during the run, which was good, though. Training today was mostly figuring out where she’s at after being out for a while from any serious training.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “And what else?”

Bucky looked around to see who was within hearing distance, then leaned forward on the table. “I was on the phone with you, I wasn’t paying attention. Walked in on her naked in the ladies’ locker room.”

Steve choked on the first sip of his coffee. He recovered after a moment, dabbing at the coffee now staining his navy blue tie. “I’m sorry — naked? Your first day coaching and you walked in on her naked?”

“I did,” Bucky confirmed, blowing out a deep breath. “After that, I rushed out. I’ll be lucky I don’t get a call tonight not to come back tomorrow.”

“Oh, Buck,” Steve laughed, apologizing for his reaction, “I’m sorry, I just — naked. Wow. What a way to start out a new job. Was it worth the mistake?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Is that really important?”

“You tell me,” Steve smirked.

“Yes, it was worth the mistake,” Bucky sighed, leaning back to give Wanda space to deliver their food. “She’s — I mean, she’s fit as it is, she’s a boxer. But yeah, she’s gorgeous.”

“Who’s gorgeous?” Wanda asked.

Steve motioned to Bucky. “This new girl he’s coaching. Bucky accidentally walked in on her naked after their practice today.”

Wanda put a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t help much to stifle her giggles. “Try not to picture that every time you go back. Have you told Charlotte or Nat about this yet?”

“C’mon, let’s not spread the word,” Bucky groaned. “It was an honest mistake!”

But Wanda’s fingers were already tapping out a message on her phone. Steve was still smirking, even as he shoved bites of salad in his mouth. Bucky had a half-sandwich and a bowl of soup in front of him, but he suddenly felt not too hungry.

After she dressed, Haven waited at the locker room door to see if she heard any sounds in the gym.

“I’m coming out now. I have clothes on,” she called.

As it turned out, Bucky wasn’t in the gym, and his car was gone from the driveway. Haven tossed her dirty clothes in the hamper in the laundry room, then went to start a load before putting together a lunch of leftovers from the night before.

She ate alone at the kitchen table, contemplating what had happened and trying to figure a way to get around it when they saw each other again. She was still thinking it over when Wes came in from a training session with one of his clients.

“You’re deep in thought,” her brother noted, drinking milk from the jug in the fridge.

“You’re an animal,” she returned. “So … something happened with Coach Barnes today. It has the potential to make things real awkward, so I’m trying to decide if I’m going to face it head on or act like it never happened.”

Wes put the milk back but leaned on the open refrigerator door. “Well, tell me what happened, I’ll help you decide what to do about it.”

Haven thought about it. “No, I think this one might be better for me to handle on my own.”

“Just tell me, punk.”

She shook her head. “Nah, it’s too weird.”

Wes let the refrigerator door close before going to the table and pressing his cold hand to the back of his sister’s neck. Haven yelped and tried to wrestle away from him, but even once his hand warmed up, he was tickling her until she begged for mercy.

“I was showering after practice, in the locker room, and he was — I don’t know how the mistake was made, but he walked into the wrong locker room.” She left it at that, hoping Wes could fill in the blanks.

“Oh,” he frowned, still putting the pieces together. “Oh. He saw everything, didn’t he?”

Haven sat back down and put her head in her hands. “Yep, pretty sure. About a hundred percent sure it wasn’t on purpose, but … yeah. Awkward. So, so, so awkward.”

Wes did his best to hold back his laughter, but it was mostly to no avail. “Oh, sis. I don’t even — yeah, I don’t think that’s something you can just pass off like it didn’t happen. You’ve got to talk to him about it. After he saw all your goods, I don’t think your strictly-professional approach is going to go far.”

“Was afraid of that,” she sighed. “I’ll call him later on, see if he has time to meet. Might as well deal with it before practice tomorrow.”

Buckvember: @peace-love-hobbitness @disastersoldierbucky @connie326 @rebekahdawkins @wonder-cole @shynara51

Headstrong: @disastersoldierbucky @ashleymalfoy @amanda-teaches @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @tanelle83 @tellmewhatyouwill @capandbuckylvr @pinknerdpanda @mizzzpink @ntlmundy @siggy85 @itsallyscorner @m-blasterrr

#buckvember #bucky barnes #ofc #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky x ofc #buckvember queue

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alternateafterthought · 4 years

Text

Waxing Crescent

Ø Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Witch! Reader

Ø Genre: Gang!au, Supernatural!au,

Ø Warnings: None

Ø Word Count: 6455

Ø A/N: Hey guys, this is just something random I wrote!! I didn’t know who it was going to be for or what it was going to be about, but it ended up being something for Kim Seokjin!! There will be a second part to this, and it might take a while for it to happen but I really hope you guys like and support this!!

The things people would do for money in this day and age. She was born in that grey area that wasn’t exactly a Millennial but also not a Gen Z, drifted between both in an everlasting fight between existentialism and nihilism.

It might be why she does what she does.

It was a generation that had one defining factor, a trait that made her numb to the world and her own personal suffering. Until the sun rises and the smile on her face lets people believe they can change the world.

And maybe they can. She wouldn’t personally know, not with where she stood now.

Or it was the simple fact that her father was an absolute asshole who never shouldered on inch of responsibly.

No, that was her job. To take care of herself. To make sure that what happened to her mother never happened to her.

It was the main reason, the only reason she worked 2 jobs and took online classes. One of her jobs was all together fun, easy and it was honestly the reason she hadn’t packed it all in and just left. Working in a library isn’t something people around her normally think is something good and fun. Actually, she was never seen as someone normal who came out of the town she lived in, anything but, and yet she knew how to survive this life.

There was always something around her that no one, not even she could explain to them. Found at 8 years old, wandering the woods that surrounded the town, dirty, cold, no shoes and no will to talk. She sat under the root of a tree, surrounded by a pack of wolves who seemed to have taken her into their pack. One of the bigger mothers had wrapped herself around Y/N, shielded her from the cold of the forest floor.

When police found her, it was because a wolf had led them to her, recognising that she was one of them. Y/N never spoke a word, never looked anyone in the eye, barely accepted the food they tried to give her. Not until the woman who would become her mother walked in the door, a motherly smile and shock to see an 8-year-old with no shoes on in the middle of winter.

She did what any mother would do, fussed over Y/N, getting her showered and into the warmest clothes an 8-year-old had felt. She cooked her food, watched as she ate, brushed her hair, and stayed with Y/N until she had fallen asleep. It was only a matter of time before Y/N’s mother adopted her, and Y/N had a family in such a small town.

Then there were the reoccurring unnatural disturbances that happened when Y/N was around. A freak storm could be written off as just that, a freak storm; though a freak storm to only hit one small town in the middle of nowhere after a girl was attacked by others. Y/N had muttered something under her breath the kids hadn’t heard and the next thing they knew her eyes glowed.

It only solidified her status as some freak who didn’t belong in such a small town. Her eyes glowed, whenever it rained it seemed her skin started to turn a lovely blue, and someone swore once she had scales.

Though Y/N was always the least of the towns worries. The biggest concerns being the gangs that seemed to run the town completely over. Violence and all out wars happened on the streets and suddenly a girl whose skin turned blue when it rained was nothing to worry about. The spike in dangerous animals around the forest edge, every single one of the predators, every single one of them dangerous.

Doing a final round of the library, Y/N was kinda annoyed. It was supposed to be her day off from her second job, she was supposed to leave the library with a warm smile, stop at her favourite restaurant to pick up her favourite food. Then she was supposed to drive home, draw a warm bubble bath, set up a movie to watch as she ate and soaked in the bath.

But there was an unfriendly word there… “Supposed”.

No, on her one day off out of the month, she had been called into work because some of the other girls couldn’t work today. She understood why the girl had asked for the day off, but Y/N was always a last resort to call. Then she heard the others were either working as well or out for something else.

The girl she was covering for was taking the next few months off, needing to be at her grandmothers bedside, she wasn’t doing well. Another girl was out being 7 months pregnant; their boss having put in a rule when he took over nearly 3 years ago that after 4 months, he would happily pay maternity leave. Another girl had fallen in love, her boyfriend didn’t want her working anymore, and with the line of work they were in, Y/N could see why.

With so many girls on roster and even replacements if needed, somehow on Y/N’s one day off, she was still called in.

Park Jimin would so owe her.

Finally saying goodbye to the older ladies of the library, Y/N walked the few blocks to a small diner that her mother owned and worked at with her best friend. Smiling as she walked into the familiar smells, she remembered growing up around, seeing the familiar people working.

“Y/N, how have you been sweetheart?” Y/N was greeted by Mrs Kim, her mothers best friend since they were children.

“I’m good Mrs Kim.” Y/N took a seat at the counter.

“How many times do I have to tell you, little miss.” Mrs Kim smiled, a flash passing across her eyes that Y/N never missed but never bought up, a motherly smile at the young girl who looked like her childhood best friend. “One, I am your aunt, two, where have you been?”

Y/N laughed a little as she got comfortable in her seat before speaking; “I’m sorry, Aunty. I’ve been working and studying a lot lately.” Y/N’s eyes were wide, trying for innocent. “I promise to visit you more often.”

“Aish… What am I going to do with you?” Mrs Kim laughed a little as her hand moved to cup Y/N’s cheek, warm, always warm, like her mother’s hand used to feel. “You’re working too much, sweetheart. You need to take some time off.”

“I know. When everything is fixed,” Y/N knew Mrs Kim knew about everything she was going through, her mother having asked her to take care of her only daughter. “I promise I will take a holiday.”

“Good. You deserve it.” Mrs Kim leaned over the counter to kiss Y/N on the forehead like her mother used to before standing back. “The usual?”

With a grateful nod, Mrs Kim moved to the kitchen to put in her order as Y/N pulled her phone out. She saw that she had a message from Jimin, no doubt making sure she doesn’t back out on her shift tonight. Reading the message and reading it again and again for good measure, Y/N understood why Jimin was so on edge about her coming in tonight.

They were coming in tonight, the members of what the girls called, the 7. Her friend and boss, Park Jimin, was apart of the 7, but he was the man in charge of the entertainment tonight. It always put him on edge when his friends came to town, there was usually only one of two reasons for their visits.

One being someone had died. Two being someone was going to die.

Y/N had made it her mission to never have to work the days the 7 were in town, and not for the reasons people normally thought. They were known as ruthless killers, the only affection they had were for each other and a strong drink at the end of the night. They had fun in their work, enjoyed what they did and always looked the part of a group of men who did bad things for a living.

Though like any woman who grew up around here, she knew them, or at least knew of them. Y/N was thankful that it was the latter in her case, she knew off them, knew of the danger they possess. She knew that once all 7 were together, all bets were off.

Y/N had been, rather lucky to have meet Jimin nearly 3 years ago when he was by himself without the others. He had been assigned the clubs that they owned and he particularly like the one she now worked at. It became easy to see why in her first few weeks of service to the 7, it wasn’t the girls or the alcohol or the money or the gambling. It was the connection, the communication the club allowed Jimin to have with his own and with those in other gangs.

With her food ready and messaging Jimin to tell him she was on her way, Y/N hugged Mrs Kim before walking the 6 blocks to the club. Y/N could see people already lining up, the bass of the music already on the street as the sun set. The illuminated letters on the front of the club “Eternal Rest” was supposed to be funny, at least that’s what Jimin insisted.

And maybe, the clientele they receive it might be funny to them. But to Y/N it was plain and simple… it was where she would die. She was already working there against her will, to pay off debt her father had happily acquired as he stole her life away from her. It was also a place that would drag her to hell.

Moving around the building and to the back entrance to the club, nodding at the security guard before he allowed her in. Going straight to the dressing rooms, knowing full well that the other room would be occupied by now, Y/N took her time getting ready. Savouring her food, she ate slower than normal before getting ready, the last thing she wanted was to look bloated on the floor and having one of the important clients complain. She knew the type of pressure Jimin was under, hosting such important clients, and she didn’t want him to be in trouble.

Y/N could see herself in the mirror as she leaned over her leg, raised onto her chair to slip her shoes in place. So much skin was revealed, the skin-tight black lace that clung to her body like a second skin was surprisingly easy to breath in, the amount of cleavage that showed was due to the lace. Or mostly due to the fact that her breast had grown larger than she ever wanted, but it helped with this job, it helped when they tipped her. Every part of her body, every part she would frown upon looking at, was always used to her advantage to get one more step closer to freedom.

Placing her other leg onto the chair as she slipped her second shoe on, there was a knock at the door; “Are you decent?”

“Everything important is covered.” Y/N allowed Jimin to come in the dimly lit room before standing tall in the red bottom boots.

“Wow, you’re not messing around tonight, are you?” Jimin’s eyes lingered on Y/N’s breast, the lace following the curve of them.

“You said you needed me on my best behaviour.” Y/N shrugged, sitting back on her chair, finishing her final touches.

“Well remind me to ask for you to be on your best behaviour more often.” Jimin gave an appreciated nod to Y/N in the mirror before moving closer to sit at the chair next to her, seeing the question in Y/N’s raised eyebrow. “They arrived 10 minutes ago. I greeted them and the girls did what they do best, swarmed them to entertain.”

“But...?” Y/N knew there was more to it, seeing him hesitate. “Jimin we’ve talked about this, you don’t lie or keep things from me,” Y/N put the last of her jewellery on her fingers and wrist. “And I don’t make up bad lies not to be here.”

“One of them requested you.” Jimin watched how Y/N’s whole body seemed to stop, an uneven breath leaving her lips.

“Which one?”

Without so much as an answer from Jimin, Y/N simply nodded. He had been asking for her for months, having seen her around the club once, bought her one drink and he hadn’t let it go. It was just unfortunate for him that she was already on someone else’s arm that night, a rival man’s arm, but someone’s else’s arm, nonetheless. Every time they had come in, he had asked after Y/N, yet she was never working, smart enough to never let that happen again.

Tonight, she hadn’t been as lucky.

“What do I have to do?” Y/N asked, finally turning to look at Jimin fully.

“It’s just a candy night.” Jimin quickly took everything else off the table, holding up the necklace of the 7, of him. “He asked what you normally did, and I told him you don’t go any further than entertainment. He won’t push past candy.”

With a nod Y/N looked at the necklace, well more collar, before speaking; “Where is he?”

Jimin stood again, moving around her chair to hold the necklace against her skin, his touch was cold, it was always cold, clasping it behind her neck. He looked into the mirror, seeing Y/N looking at the pendant on the necklace, the small pearl seemingly shining against her tanned skin. It was even easier to see considering her outfit she had chosen was all black, and Jimin knew what it would give to everyone to see Y/N with this necklace and on his brothers arm.

She was the angel in the darkness.

“He’s in the VIP.” Jimin took a few steps back as Y/N stood, coming to her full height that was a little taller than Jimin himself. “He made one request of you though.” Y/N stopped before she had the chance to move, intently listening to her instructions before going to the floor. “He asked if you would go to the bar and…”

“And…?”

“And allow you to play the room. He wants you to have fun before he summons you.” Jimin finished the odd request from his brother, but he was never one to judge.

Y/N nodded, summon you, like a dog with a bone, taking it in before giving a few calming breaths to slow down her racing heart; “I’ll follow you out after 2 minutes and head straight for the bar.”

“Thank you, Y/N.” Jimin smiled sweetly before leaving her to herself.

xxx

Y/N had been sitting at the bar for around 10 minutes by herself, nursing the vodka soda she had ordered when she sat. The bartender had smiled when he handed her the drink but then looked over her shoulder to the pair of eyes that burned into them. He hadn’t looked Y/N’s way since.

It’s been happening the whole time. Someone would sit next to her, press against her, and offer to buy her a drink, whisper something dirty into her ear. Then she would have the pleasure of watching their eyes widen as they saw what sat on her next, the pearl a reminder to them all. They would soon turn to see the same pair of eyes staring at them before making a quick, fumbled apology before seemingly to run away.

Y/n never once had to say a thing, never once had to remind them of why she sat there at the bar, alone and nursing her drink. They all knew the boundaries that were placed on her, she was claimed, she was his.

Not even the other girls she had worked with for years had made a move to talk to her. They knew that not even they ran the club tonight, they had to do what they did best. The girls put on a show, sitting on the arms of the rich and famous, being the men’s lucky charms, being a pretty face. They knew when to cheer, when to press against one of the lucky men, what to whisper into their ear to get more money from them. They knew when it was time to offer one of the many luxurious rooms past the dark entrance to the left of the club.

But they also knew, that when another girl was claimed by the pearl, they did not disturb the waters.

So, Y/N sat alone at the bar, taking in the atmosphere around her. People were winning, people were losing, girls cheered when a man won a game, chips flicked together, diced rolled. There was even girls dancing on the many smaller stages around the club, girls dancing upstairs on the second floor, rich men ogling the women who performed.

Y/N wished she had been lucky enough to be one of those girls, just to dance where none of them could touch her. It was the rule of the club, no man could touch the dancers, the other girls were free game. But tonight, she was claimed.

“Hey, so,” A very handsome looking man came into Y/N’s view, leaning against the bar, resting his head on the palm of his hand as his elbow leaned on the bar. “You’re the girl my brother claimed for the night, huh?”

Y/N looked at him with wide eyes. Kim Taehyung, one of, if not the most dangerous executioner sat next to Y/N, all smiles, and bright eyes. She should have run away, especially from all the stories of the blood that ran along the streets, just from his hands.

Up close Taehyung looked so childlike, she could even see a small freckle on his cheek under his left eye. And his smile, boxy and playful, no wonder women fell for him, no wonder women never headed the warning to stay away from him.

“Oh right, Kim Taehyung, at your service.” Taehyung offered his hand for Y/N to take, something changed in his eyes, once a golden brown but seemingly flashing a dark red, then it was gone.

“Y/N.” Y/N offered only her first name as she shook his hand.

“Just Y/N?” Taehyung’s grip on her hand tightened a little, pushing his own body slightly against her right side.

“She doesn’t have to tell you her full name, Hyung.” Another voice, although not as deep as Taehyung, just as chilling, came from her left. “But I would love to tell you mine, Jeon Jungkook, at your service.”

Jungkook took Y/N’s other hand into his warm one’s, now Y/N’s arms were crossed over her body, trapped between two, although handsome, extremely dangerous men. Unlike Taehyung, Jungkook was an enforcer. He enforced the law of their ways, enforced punishment to those who are against them. He was the best fighter they have and a little too, uncomfortably, well versed with sharp objects.

“So, Miss Y/N,” Jungkook, like Taehyung, did not let go of Y/N’s hand but kept talking. “Would you mind if we kept you company until our brother comes to you?” Jungkook’s eyes becoming a golden stare.

“There are plenty of pretty girls around and yet you two stand around, in the hands of a claimed woman.” A voice behind Y/N caused both Taehyung and Jungkook to release her hands and turned to face it. “Now, beat it you two.”

“Aw, come on, Hyung.” Taehyung whined. “We’re simply keeping Miss Y/N here company.”

“We would never tread on the claims of a woman marked by our own brother.” Jungkook laughed a little, still leaning into Y/N.

“Well what did you slip into Miss Y/N’s drink then?”

The question caused Y/N’s blood to run cold, her wide eyes moving straight down to where her now warm drink sat. It was untouched and would remain untouched as she pushed it further away from her. Y/N pushed both men away from her as they laughed, seeing this as a joke, as Y/N finally turned around and came face to face with the unmistakable voice of Kim Namjoon.

Just like Taehyung and Jungkook, Kim Namjoon was unmistakeably handsome, taller than the others and a voice any woman would gladly throw her panties away for. As Jungkook and Taehyung joked, moving away and into the crowds of people, of women, Y/N was then left with Namjoon. His dark stare trapped her to her seat, but she had to move, standing as her heels touched the ground.

She was still a little shorter than Namjoon, but with her back straightened and her eyes steeled, she spoke; “Is he not coming down tonight?”

“He has asked me to come fetch you.”

“So, no cat and mouse game tonight?” Y/N boldly asked, stupidly looking the leader of the 7 in the eye.

“He did not say where for me to take you.” Namjoon smirked. “You are of course a little mouse, Miss Y/N. You just did not realise what game you were actually playing.”

Namjoon’s eyes were beautiful, dangerous, a golden that Y/N could never miss. They flashed a dangerous glint that told Y/N she was in the company of something not entirely human.

There were rumours, stories told that the men of the 7 were not entirely human, that they were something more. As were the customers of “Eternal Rest”, an ironic name was what they called the name of the club. They were something more, and it looked like Y/N was getting a firsthand look at just how true rumours and stories really were here.

“Come on, little mouse,” Namjoon smiled wide. “My brother is waiting for you.”

xxx

Namjoon had turned without looking back, expecting Y/N to follow him and she did just that. She knew when to fight and when to follow, and right now she followed Namjoon to the VIP area. Namjoon have pointed her in the direction she should follow, after that he had turned on his heels and moved away to where the rest of the 7 sat, loudly laughing and gambling with Jimin.

Making eye contact with Jimin, he gave her a nod before she walked off down a very dimly lit hall. She knew these parts of the club, the bedrooms in which the girls truly service the clientele. The VIP was just beyond the bedrooms, and from the sounds coming from them, the giggling girls as they stood at the doors waving off satisfied men, Y/N continued to walk.

Y/N was by no means a fool, she was no stranger to sex and nor could she be working here. Yet it was still something she shed away from when it came to this club, these men, this circumstance. She was not one of those girls, she was merely paid to be a candy girl, and at the door of the VIP, she looked upon the man who wanted her on his arm.

“Sir,” Y/N stood at the door, leaning down in a bow as she had been told to do when greeting a client.

“Someone ordered some entertainment?” A voice pierced through Y/N’s ears as she remained bowed. “Good.”

“She is not for entertainment.” Another voice spoke. “She is claimed.”

“It would seem our young, Mr. Kim here is going to be busy.” The first voice spoke again. “We shall leave you to it.”

Y/N finally stood back to her full height as 6 men moved out of the room and past her. Her eyes remained to the floor, like she had been trained to do when she first started there.

She never once spoke until she was spoken to; “Y/N, would you like to have a seat next to me?”

Y/N finally looked up and into the eyes of the man who claimed her for the night. Kim Seokjin sat on a leather couch, under the dim light his eyes flickered between a brown and a gold. His legs were crossed, his arms spread out over the back of the couch and a smile on his face. His gaze was predatory, watching Y/N as she moved closer into the room before standing in front of him.

“Sit.” Jin pointed his eyes down next to him, following closely as Y/N took a seat next to him. “Would you like something to drink?”

“As long as your brothers don’t handle the drinks.”

Jin raised his eyebrow at that, knowing about the mischief his brothers get up to, also liking the confidence she had. Jin had meet Y/N a handful of times and each time she had been the only woman to ever speak to him as if he were just another man. She was different, not liking how every other women to walk around this club, this town, treated him as if one wrong move and she would be dead.

“It’s okay, I’ll be the only one to handle your drinks.” Jin’s smile was breathtaking, absolutely heartbreaking.

He stood from next to Y/N as she leaned back into the leather couch, watching Jin move to the bar in the VIP room. She watched the way his wide shoulders shrugged out of his jacket, placing it over the back of a chair. He unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling his sleeves up as he rounded the bar, his smile still on Y/N.

“Any requests?” Jin caught Y/N eyeing the straps around his body, the guns in the holsters just under his chest. “I’m surprisingly good with cocktails.”

“What’s your best?” Y/N smiled, leaning her elbow against her knees, resting her chin on her palm, engaged in Jin as he twirled and spun bottles around his hands.

“You seem like a whiskey type of girl.” Jin smirked at the slight widening of Y/N’s eyes.

“Am I that obvious?”

Jin shook his head as he picked up each bottle as he worked and kept talking; “No, not really. You just order a vodka soda when you sat down at the bar. It must be what they make you order here?”

Y/N was surprised. It was something that Jimin made sure every girl did, order something not too strong, enough to keep the men they entertain involved, but not to strong it makes the girl sloppy. Vodka soda was Y/N’s set drink, the one she would nurse as she (un)happily played candy. But she loved whiskey, it always reminded her of her parents at a happier time.

Maybe that was the worst part about it.

“So, I’m assuming you like something older, smoother, something that can hold up to the men you would never find around here.”

“Not all men here are that bad.” Y/N leaned back into the couch again, watching Jin pour the pale-yellow liquid into a glass with ice.

Now it was Jin’s turn to look at Y/N with surprise; “Do you really believe that?”

“Absolutely not.” Y/N watched the lithe movements of Kim Seokjin as he walked towards her again, a drink in each hand.

“Good.” Jin said as he offered Y/N her drink. “Whiskey sour for the lady.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N nodded before bringing the drink of her lips, taking a small sip. Jin seemed to be full of surprises it would seem, as Y/N took a better drink of the whiskey sour, savouring it as he sat next to her again. His leg pushed right up against Y/N’s own, giving off such a warm heat to her exposed skin. He was confident, confident enough to sit his hand on her knee, as he too took a swig from his own drink, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What do you think?” Jin gestured to the drink in Y/N’s hands.

“It’s delicious. You really are amazing.” Y/N swirled the cherry around the glass. “How did you learn to make them?”

Jin shrugged, comfortably leaning back into the couch; “I wasn’t always where I was now. Everyone has a story of their beginnings.”

Y/N nodded, understanding that not everyone has a happy beginning, or a happy middle. But Y/N wanted to give herself a happy ending, and everything she was doing now was a lead up to her happy ending.

“Well however you learned, I’m kinda thankful for it.” Y/N moved her leg over her other, Jin’s hand moving off it for only a moment before running over her exposed thigh. “You were right, I do like whiskey.”

“I’m always right.” Jin smiled wide, bringing his drink to his lips again as he seemed to smirk over the glass.

“Well, Mr. Always right…” Y/N sat her smaller hand on top of Jin’s, stopping his movements as she stared into his eyes. “What exactly is it you want me to do for you tonight? I’m only a candy level, and a man of your status shouldn’t want anything to do with a candy.”

Jin shrugged, comfortably leaning into Y/N, both of their heads leaning back on the couch, lips mere inches from each other. Y/N could feel the warm breath of Jin on her lips, she could smell the whiskey on his breath. He was so close, and he seemed to have no thoughts of moving.

“Is it wrong for me to want to get to know you?”

Y/N could hear footsteps, though she didn’t move she could count how many walked with a purpose towards the room they sat it. She didn’t know what was going on, and she knew that Jin himself could hear the footsteps himself. Yet, neither of them moved, neither moved away from each other, neither moved to look at the door. They seemed to both only look at each other, almost like there was something familiar between them.

But Y/N only knew of him. So why did he look at her as if she had all the answers to every question of his?

“Very.”

As the door opened, only Y/N moved, looking up and feeling Jin get comfortable next to her. His hand never left Y/N’s skin, even as she sat up to look at Jin’s brothers as they walked into the room. They barely gave Y/N a second look, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook moving to the bar themselves, Namjoon and the final 2 of the 7, Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok, sat at one of the other chair.

“Hyung,” Yoongi sat on the couch next to Jin, handing him something.

Y/N knew her role, to stay quiet and only move when her client needed her to. Like now, she reached her hand out, taking Jin’s drink like it was normal as he took whatever it was that Yoongi handed Jin. She didn’t look at it, she knew better then that, instead, finding the contents of her drink fascinating.

“Seems we’ll need a females opinion after all,” Jin spook loud enough for everyone to hear, seemingly all turning to look at Y/N as he continued to talk. “What do you think, Jagiya?”

She didn’t realise straight away, but when she finally looked up, all eyes on her, Y/N finally looked back at Jin. He smiled at her, taking his drink back and putting into her hand a file. The rather thin file almost felt like she was holding the fate of the world on her shoulder, even if Jin gave a reassuring nod from his laid-back position.

Sitting her own drink in front of her on the small table in front of her, Y/N opened the file to find the last thing she would have thought.

Cakes.

There were 3 different cakes, with what looked to be intensive background information of the cakes in the file. Y/N looked over them each before looking at Jin again, raising her eyebrow in question.

“It’s my sisters birthday, apparently I have to plan it.” Jin laughed a little as he sat up, still leaned back enough Y/N had to turn her body to him. “I’m not the best when it comes to this. I could use a female’s opinion.”

Y/N looked back at the cakes, looking up and catching Jimin’s eyes. He gave a quick smile, looking over Y/N before nodding, to trust the situation, if not then to trust him. Taking a deep breath, Y/N looked back at the cakes before reading which bakery they were choosing from, the choice so much easier.

“The sponge from Serendipity.” Y/N handed Jin back the file, reaching to pick her drink up again. “If you’re not a fan of something too sweet then it’s perfect. If you want something sweeter, all you have to do is ask for Mrs Kim. She always makes it a little sweeter.”

“I told you Serendipity was the best.” Hoseok laughed, leaning back into his seat as Taehyung handed him a drink, all of them sitting with a drink in hand.

Jung Hoseok. All smiles and laughs and sweet words to the lucky woman he decided he wanted for the night. It was sometimes way to easy to forget about the small detail of his crimes. That had never once been proven that is. It was always too easy to forget that Jung Hoseok could hack your entire life and still play with sharp edges. He was, in short, a hacker, with a dangerous pass time of blades.

“You only like Serendipity because they give you extra tarts whenever you go in.” Namjoon spoke from Hoseok’s left, shaking his head as he sipped the scotch Jungkook had handed him.

“But now we have an outside opinion.” Jimin raised his glass in gesture to Y/N, winking at her. “Can’t be the worst place.”

“Aren’t you a little bias though?” Min Yoongi, who still sat on the edge of his seat, looked at Jimin with a smirk. “I mean we can all appreciate a nice pair of breast but even you shouldn’t be bias to the tits you see every day.”

“At least I have tits to stare at, Hyung.” Jimin leaned happily against the bar with his drink, seeming to toast to Yoongi. “Stuck on the streets where you are, I’d rather you shoot me now.”

Y/N didn’t recognising Yoongi until he saw the rest of them. He was a ghost, almost quite literally. You never saw him unless he wanted you to, he never let you know when he was going to attack. He was a sharpshooter; he was the type of man that you would always want to watch your back. Min Yoongi was the one of the most lethal men sitting in the room, and he was joking about Y/N’s boobs.

Before anyone spoke, Y/N noticed how the room suddenly shifted, it got tense and almost dark. Y/N saw how Jungkook sniffed the air, standing from his seat, a deep growl clawing from his chest. Jin, who was once relaxed, shoot up to his feet, pushing Y/N behind him, her eyes peaking over his shoulders as they all seemed to moved into a position, of sorts, around Y/N.

“Why do they always send corpses?” Yoongi, who was the closest to Y/N and Jin, sighed as if he were bored.

The door burst open, a blur rushed through the doors and a voice spoke from behind YN; “Because we’re bottles of fun.”

Y/N hadn’t turned around, but she knew what was behind her, could feel the cold, death of the body behind her. Everything happened so fast, fast enough that everything was sorted out by the time Y/N’s drink smashed on the floor besides her feet.

Y/N could feel it, the life forces in the room, only 5, which meant that 2 of the 7 were just like those who surrounded them. Vampires.

From the claws, the growls Y/N could feel Jin, Namjoon and Jungkook. Their own life force connected to one another, pack, protect the pack. Werewolves.

Taehyung and Hoseok seemed to enjoy it most, they seemed to still be smiling and Y/N could feel why. They were connected to the earth and the stars and the water as much as she was. Fae Folk.

Y/N made eye contact with Jimin then, he seemed to be checking in on her. He and Yoongi barely moved, they didn’t even breath. Y/N had them figure out, so it was time for her to do what she was meant to do.

The glass in her hand dropped and no one could move a muscle. Y/N stepped back a little, enough to turn her body hold her hand out to the vampire behind her who had spoken. A beautiful woman looked into Y/N’s eyes with a smirk, before widening in fear as she saw the sparks fly around Y/N’s hands.

The sparks were purple and ancient and the death of many in that room that night. Y/N found it easy to lock onto who she needed to, her eyes changed as she whispered and incantation under her breath before she moved like the ocean would against the shore. One by one the vampires dropped, meeting a true death as they burned into the floor as if the sun had caressed their flesh. The molten puddles of blood drifted against the floors as did her drink now at her feet.

Taking a calming breath, Y/N centred herself before she looked back up to the room full of men who stared at her wide eyes. Only then did they see it.

The witches mark.

An ancient mark that had been lost over the centuries. The last known witch to ever walk the earth was nearly 300 years ago, the horns that sat atop the witches head now sat, forgotten, a prize to the vampire king. Yet here was Y/N, and her mark was clearer now than ever before.

The blue of her eyes had become clearer, like a storm on the sea. Around her eyes, like every time she used her magic, different blues graced her skin, her scales. Even her ears seems to point a little more like Taehyung and Hoseok they noticed. The water that was a current on her body swayed, sensing to feel if there were anymore coming, if they were in any more danger.

“It would see I have a bit of explaining to do.”

Y/N couldn’t hide anymore. She just sent out a very loud, very public signal to all who magic touched. She knew that everyone in the building, everyone within a 200-mile radius would have felt the shift in the air. She knew they would talk, would question, would find Y/N. She also knew that the men in front of her were the best option at protection.

And from the looks of each man staring at her, she needed to explain quickly.

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crowsandthoughts · 4 years

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Stomache ache || Tsukishima Kei, Oikawa Tooru + Kuroo Tetsuroo

A scenario of Tsukki, Oikawa and Kuroo when their s/o can’t fall asleep and she kept going to the bathroom just because her stomach isn’t feeling well, full of fluff :)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Tsukishima Kei

The test was going to be in almost a week from today but Kei, Tadashi and you started to study as the good students you are. Well, maybe those two included you in this study session so they could be sure you were actually understanding everything. Even though the intention of this was only studying, breaks were taken mostly every 20 minutes… definitely not your greatest moment. Loads of snacks were eaten - you ended up so full! but that feeling changed and your stomach started being a problem. Thank god it didn’t start when you were still studying, since i would’ve been the worst thing ever.

Tadashi had just left when your tummy started to hurt. Your house was pretty far away and it was too late for you to go alone. Since Kei and you were childhood friends, his mother easily let you stay for the night! If it wasn’t for the pain your stomach was making you feel, this would’ve been an almost fanfiction scenario you could only imagine in your head from all the years you’ve been pinning for your tall friend. He even lent you his clothes!

You endured it for some more minutes, he was in a futon on the floor while you “slept” on his bed. Carefully enough, you got to your feet and went to the bathroom… multiple times in the night. Whatever made your stomach that upset, you sweared for your life you wouldn’t eat it again… even if it meant not eating at all. You could only hope the blond didn’t notice a damn thing because you would be embarrassed as hell.

When you were finished with you business in the bathroom, you got out and met with the blond’s eyes. He had this smirk in his face and all the emotions you were trying to hide just exploded in your face. “I’m sorry i woke you up…” He lifted his eyebrow “Are you feeling better though?” You directed you gaze to the wall “Y/n…” “My tummy hurts…haha” and with that your vision clouded, you were super ashamed you almost couldn’t handle it. You felt how he sighed and put his hand in your shoulder “You dumb, go to bed. I’ll give you something for it” so you did what he said. Even if you were feeling really self-concious, the tone of his voice expressed how deeply he cared and that was just what you needed.

Oikawa Tooru

It was one of those nights where your tummy wouldn’t stop hurting. Maybe it was the amount of food you had ate during the day or perhaps part of it was rotten, you didn’t know. What you did know was that the sound your stomach produced was not healthy at all. Either way this wasn’t what you were expecting from this day, all week you were completely excited about this “sleepover idea” with your boyfriend Tooru: preparing the outfit you would wear, what movies you would love to watch, you name it. All to be ruined by your stupid stomach plotting your entire plan and making you feel anxious.

The “tummy problem” started just when you two arrived home from the cute date you had. You tried to deny any kind of discomfort your stomach made you feel and just hoped it went away. Hot news - it didn’t. Sometimes you could ignore it and behave normally but there were other times when you needed a break in the bathroom. You tried those visits were as fast as possible so the boy wouldn’t notice. (He is an observant pal so obviously he would)

You thought it all came to an end when both of you got yourselves comfortable (as comfy as you could with all the pain your tummy made you feel) in his bed. He was definitely sleepy and ready to shut his brain off since he had a long day: he was practicing in the club some serves before your date. As soon as you felt his body relax, you jumped out of bed and ran all the way to the nearest bathroom. You tried to be as silent as you could every time you went but because of your rapid actions you ended up making a lot of noise when you closed the door.

Just when you felt everything was going the best it could, a knock at the door interrupted your late night date with the toilet.

“Y/n, baby, you know you can count on me when you don’t feel well, right?” Your brows furrowed as you heard his voice from outside. That’s when your facade broke, and all your frustrations surfaced. “Tooru…” your voice trembled as you called his name. “What is it sweetie?” as those words came out of his mouth some tears felt from your eyes, you weren’t expecting this but the tiredness was consuming you as well. “My stomach hurts…”When you said it, he went to his kitchen and prepared some tea for you to drink. “Hold on, baby. I’m going to give you something for it, yeah?”

You spent some more minutes until you felt better and came out of the room. Your gaze was directly to the floor, the embarrassment because of all this ugly situation kept you from looking into his eyes. “Y/n” He said and took your hand. His soft touch left you breathless and guided you to a comfy place with the tea he prepared. “drink this and you’ll feel better, okay? Don’t cry…” He said as he lifted your face so your eyes could meet. “Lean on me when you need it”

Kuroo Tetsurou

It had been a long day. Some stressful customers were being such a pain in the ass, it’s true that there’s a policy of “the client has the last word” or something like it but even those phrases have it’s limitations. Turns out that the lady you were attending was that kind of individual, a disrespectful son of a bi- well, you had to admit that you have been a little bit too sensitive for the past few days. It was a mix between the ugly customers, inconsiderate coworkers and the fact that you study and work at the same time and everything is on your shoulders.

As a matter of a fact, your diet was not the best, some meals were skipped and they weren’t consistent at all. That day specifically was definitely one of your worst: the fatigue, tiredness, hunger and bad condition of your body overall was affecting you. Since you had classes first hour in the morning, you didn’t have time to get something to eat other than a sandwich that you found in the refrigerator. You didn’t know whose it was, probably from Tetsurou’s, nor did you know how long had it been there…

The effect of the rotten sandwich started just when you got home from almost fighting with the petty woman. Normally you are an organized person and your temper is reasonable but the state of mind in that situation was unstable. You threw your high heels around your and Tetsu’s room and dropped yourself on the bed. Even though your tummy was making weird noises you didn’t care, and that’s when your brain turn off.

The place was kind of a mess, but Kuroo Tetsurou completely understood why. You were tired as hell and he has always been the messy type. “I have to help a bit though” he thought as he put his things down on the sofa. There was almost no trace of you except of the happy snores that came from your shared room. He smiled and left you there sleeping, he knew how exhausted you had been all week and all he wanted for you is to rest. He ended up working on some projects from university, studying a bit and when the boy least expected it, it was already 2am. He had his headphones on but he was almost sure he heard the door being shut. He didn’t pay attention to it the first few times, but already on the eighth time … the messy haired boy was beyond worried. That was definitely not normal.

“Y/n…?” He tried to sound as sweet as possible. “what” you responded as fast as you could. “Are you alright kitten?” and with that you were weak. The pressure and just everything you were baring till that moment slapped you right in the face. “…ₙₒ”. And then your stomach decides to make the worst sound ever, good thing he is the closest person you have in this existence. Even like that, maybe if it were in another situation it would’ve been funny and you would make a joke about it but right now “The stinky sandwich is missing, kitten that’s like 1 month old..” that made you feel even worse to not be able to tell when a thing is not edible anymore.

“oh…” you felt so embarrassed. People could say are such a fierce person - all bark and bite type - but at moments like these, they could not be more wrong. You needed him by your side and he was more than disposed to help. “Y/n, kitten don’t worry” you could hear his voice filled with love “i’m going to give you something and then we’ll sleep, alright?” Yeah, you could be an independent person but at the same time depending on him is just as fine.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I hope you all liked it! It’s been a long wait but i can’t assure you i’ll update more frequently or just content itself. Either way here it is!

I hope you have a great day or night!!!🖤

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