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korpuskat · 4 years

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Kinktober Day 16 - Fearplay - [Tomura Shigaraki/Reader]

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,312 Summary: UA Student!Reader runs into Shigaraki at the mall instead of Izuku... too bad Reader’s developed a bit of a bad habit since they last met. Contains: noncon; DFAB Reader; fearplay, choking, death threats, dirty talk, voice =====

Shigaraki's cold hand closes around your throat- “Five fingers and you’ll crumble.” He warns you in that low, rasping voice that makes you shiver. He tuts, "Careful. You want to live don't you?"

You start to nod, which only makes his sadistic smile grow, before stuttering out a meek "Yes."

So you go along with it. He leads you away from the crowds, off towards a quieter part of the mall, all the while struggling to keep pace with his long legs, always aware that one wrong step, one misplaced footing and it'll all be over- it doesn't even have to be intentional. And you hate yourself because that one stupid little part of your mind latches onto it.

USJ had been weeks ago- a memory that had warped with time. The counselor had assured you it was a normal feeling, a common occurrence. Associating bad things with something better, something to give you control again. In all likelihood you'll never have to face that villain again. Oh, if only. And now, now you walk with him and he's talking, monologuing about something you can't quite keep up with considering how dark and serious his voice has gone. Your head spins; you don't remember him sounding like this, but he's so close and that scent of old clothes and death clings to him just as it had before-

"Can't even pay attention." He scoffs, fingers tightening over your throat as you tremble, struggle to breathe- "I knew you wannabe heroes were stupid but that's just pathetic, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

He's too close to your ear, the threats too similar, and even if your hand had never felt so cold, it's all too real, too much like what you'd thought of in the privacy of your own head. Need burns in your belly, the raw associations of it all wash over you and you're pressing your thighs together, seeking out that meager friction before you can think twice. "Too stupid to even hold a conversation when you're being threatened! You'd never even make it to graduation! Maybe I should just dust you now, find one of your little friends instead and-"

A noise rises in your throat.

Shigaraki goes still, his sentence left hanging. Your hands fidget over your thighs, picking at the hem of your shirt as you fight to keep your focus on him this time. But he doesn't continue. A ragged breath- and his other hand touches your leg, index finger lifted away.

You snap to face him. He's close, too close- his scarred face and ruined skin and bright, wide, blood red eyes stare down at you and you think maybe it'd be better if he had that horrible hand to obscure the flat, emotionless expanse of his face. He demands, "What are you doing?"

Shaking your head, you force out a quick, "Nothing." You hadn't- you weren't planning anything, nothing to fight back, nothing that should warrant this level of suspicion. Maybe trauma had fried your brain, but you weren't stupid enough to try anything with his hand around your throat and- the thought makes your legs press together again.

Shigaraki's hand bites in harder to your thigh, leaves four indents in your skin- and his eyes burn. Goosebumps erupt over your skin, prickle under his palm on the back of your neck, that primal fear that makes every cell scream out with the need to get away from him. He's going to kill you. You don't even know what unspoken rule you've broken- you didn't fight, didn't yell, cooperated as much as you could considering what your subconscious has been bombarding you with.

"Are you..." There's something new in his voice. The menacing edge has dulled, replaced by something a little too close to uncertainty for you to feel comfortable. He licks his lips, shiny wet tip of his tongue darting over the cracked, chapped skin of his lips- and to your absolute horror, a dusting of pink appears over his cheeks. You've seen him as this disengaged monster twice now- but blushing? What are you supposed to do with that?

"Get up." He stands so abruptly, you nearly do die by his hand. Shigaraki walks with purpose, almost dragging you as you half-jog just to keep pace.

The realization that he's taking you even further away from the crowds makes your blood run cold. "Where are we going?"

"Shut up."

You do. Your lips remain tightly sealed even as he pushes open a door marked employees only and pulls you into the service halls behind the shops. The trembling starts up again as he guides you further and further into the arteries of the mall. You should be happy: if he was going to kill you, he would've already. But that only makes a ball of dread curl tighter in your belly. If he wasn't taking you somewhere to kill you discretely, what was he-

White-painted cinder blocks rush up to meet you. Your palms catch the brunt of the blow, scrape across the latex-covered cement as his hand shifts, presses hard at the base of your neck. He's right up on you now, his long, lithe body slotted against yours. Breath ghosts over your ear- and all five of his fingers drum over your skin one by one. Perfect coordination to keep you alive, the looming threat of death has you shivering and Shigaraki huffs. "Are you getting off on this?"

Shame rises hard and fast in you, exhaling a sharp "No!"

"You are." He says, but his tone lands somewhere between disgust and amazement. His voice drops low, more observational, more for himself than you. "You like when I talk. You keep shivering."

In ultimate betrayal your body proves him right, a tremor rocking your shoulder beneath his hand- "Please, stop..."

"Not even denying it." In a flash he swaps hands, his dominant right replaced with his left and a quick reminder: "Don't fight."

You wouldn't even think of it- until that right hand is reaching around you and pulling at the button of your pants. You wiggle away from his hand on instinct- which drives your hips back against his. Finding him half-hard and easily grinding against your ass has your brain short circuit, "Wait, wait- Shigaraki, I-"

"Oh, no." He laughs against your ear and your eyes are nearly rolling back. The button to your jeans pops open and he's shoving the fabric down around your thighs. "You've piqued my interest now! A useless NPC has a whole secret side quest just for me? I can't just let you go."

You twist away from him again- and his grasp on you tightens, his whole body going stiff for a moment. His chin jerks- and all at once you're aware of a soft, fluttering feeling around your hips and the cool, conditioned air of the mall against your overly warm pussy.

You should look- should know if you're slowly dying- but Shigaraki exhales darkly and answers the question for you. "That's what happens if you struggle." He'd disintegrated your underwear, that's all. "Now be still." You shiver- and nod. The hand at your throat loosens- while the other slides over your ass, down between your legs.

"You are wet." He says- and those cool fingertips squish between your sopping lower lips. Shigaraki leans in particularly close, close enough for his chapped lips to scrape against the shell of your ear. "Is it just my voice..." You bite your lower lips so hard you taste copper and still can't stop the whimper that rises in your throat. His mouth curves upwards, "Or is it the fact I could obliterate you?"

If he somehow missed your gasp, there was no way he missed your pussy clenching, desperately trying to suck his fingers inside. "Fuck." He obliges your body's whim and eases two fingers inside- and to your absolute shame, you drop your forehead against the cement wall and just let him. Shigaraki snickers, "Masochism isn't a good trait for a hero."

“I’m not.” It’s so pitiful even you don’t believe it. “You’re a-ah,”

“Is it anyone or just me?” His fingers plunge deeper, long thin digits delving in until his knuckles lodge against your labia. “Say it’s me.”

The slick slide of his fingers leaves you breathless, pressing your forehead against the wall in hopes the cinder blocks will part and swallow you whole. You know the answer, have never thought of anyone else’s haunting red eyes in your dark little escapes- and bite your lip to keep from letting the it’s you escape.

As suddenly as it began, you’re left empty. Shigaraki sucks in a breath through his teeth and mutters, “it’s like an eroge.” You’re not naïve enough to think that’s it- and it isn’t. Shigaraki pulls you back by the hand on your neck- presses up close to you again so he can wrap his arm around you and show you. His pale hand comes in close to your face- and Shigaraki laughs that horrible glee-filled noise, “You’re the innocent protagonist and I’m the boss you just can’t beat!”

Clothing shuffles- and something presses between your legs. You stiffen, thoughts narrowing down to what he's going to do, what he's doing- what you've thought about too many times and-

Shigaraki leans in close to your ear, "It's alright if you enjoy it." He snickers, rubs the head of his cock along your slit, gives little teasing thrusts between your thighs that rut against your clit. "You don't have a choice; I'll kill you if you fight."

His threat has you shivering, dropping your head to the wall again- and that's all the preamble you get. There's no use in begging. He lines himself up- and slides into your waiting heat. Your nails scrape over white paint- and Shigaraki is already panting, locking his jaw. He drapes himself over you as much as he can, drops his other hand to your hip.

"I remember you." He hisses as he withdraws, pulls your slickness with him until it's gushing down over your clit. "I touched you, that's why you- mmm- why you like this." He drums the fingers over your pulse again- and the adrenaline surges in your veins, every sense sharpening in the flash of fear. You're so acutely aware of his cock inside you, stroking your walls without any care for you. "Knowing how close you were to dying- how close you are now. One finger away from crumbling away, hah- doesn't even have to be intentional, could just fuck you too hard-" His hips snap forward- and stars dance in your eyes as his cockhead bounces off your cervix.

And you're clenching around him, holding your breath- "Never thought you'd be a little slut, get your own side quest just so I could fuck you- hhng-" Eight fingers tighten their grip, dig in until purple blossoms around them. "Maybe I'll still kill you after."

"I-" Your legs shake, tears budding at the corners of your eyes- and a heat builds behind your navel, your clit tingling with each forceful stroke of his cock. "Please, Shigaraki-"

The hand at your throat constricts- and bends you back until you're arched against him. "Beg." despite the childish glee in his voice, it's a command, leaves no question in his seriousness. "Beg for me to touch you."

It's backwards, completely wrong- the thing you should despise most in the world, should be avoiding- and you're squeezing your eyes closed, gasping out, "Touch me, please, I- I want you to touch me."

"So obedient!" He laughs- and the hand at your hip slides in, squeezes his middle fingers around your clit while the rest float freely. He doesn't let up his hold on your throat, though- leaves you gasping as he fucks you, rubs your clit with an unpracticed rhythm, too hard and rough, not quite where you need him- "You do want to die, don't you?" His middle finger hovers too close over your skin, threatens to make contact and it'll all be over and that's it and-

You clench around him, hips jerking- and whatever noise you would make is caught in his chokehold. Your muscles spasm around him- and all you can do is lean back on him, stare unseeingly at the ceiling as his cock keeps on fucking you as your head spins and empties and throbs with hypoxia-

and Shigaraki is cursing under his breath, right against your ear, words completely devoid of meaning except for the low rumbling of his voice that keeps on dragging your pleasure out. Any kindness in his hips has fled, leaving you with thrusts so hard they pin you up against the wall again, sandwiched between his bony body and the hard wall- until his teeth latch onto your ear and his cock is twitching inside you.

As soon as he's done panting, he withdraws- leaves you to sink to your knees and weakly tug your pants back up, but not before watching his cum slide back out of your puffy, abused hole. You're still lightheaded, pulse pounding in your ears- and Shigaraki is stepping back, tucking his softening dick away with careful hands. You look up to him- and his expression is back to being flat, unreadable. He should kill you, you know that- there's no reason to leave you alive when he's already isolated you.

"I'll tell them," Your mouth moves, but the words don't sound right in your cotton-stuffed ears. "You'll... you'll get caught eventually."

Shigaraki grins, "Tell them what? That you're a masochistic little slut who begged to cum on a villain's cock? Go on. I don't care."

He doesn't wait to see the tears fall from your cheeks, just flips his black hood up over his head and walks back the same way you came.

=====

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#shigaraki tomura #tomura shigaraki #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki fanfiction #tomura shigaraki imagine #bnha #bnha x reader #kat talks

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laceymorganwrites · 4 years

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Your weapon

Word count: 2,087

Pairing: Zeldris x fem!goddess!reader x Meliodas

Warnings: threesome, smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (both receiving), slight dubcon

A/N: I don´t know how it ended up like this, this whole thing is a mess

Purgatory was the last place one would think about when being on the quest to find love.

Well, you weren´t really on a quest, you just wanted to prove your mother wrong who told you you couldn´t be loved. You doubted you yourself could love.

But here you were, running away from ´home´ and escaping the tortures your mother did to you.

You weren´t a goddess anymore, your mother modified you into a monster.

Her intent was to produce the perfect weapon to obliterate the demon race, so naturally she used her own daughter to experiment on.

She used all sorts of magic to make your emotions disappear, she injected you with demon blood and did other horrible things to you so that you would satisfy her need for war, destruction and despair.

You experienced the first sign of happiness when you let yourself get caught by one of the princes of purgatory, Zeldris.

He had a proud smile on his face as he chained you up in the dungeon prison, he thought he caught the weapon, not the broken girl.

You couldn´t really blame him, instead you felt a wave of relief coming over you as you stood a midst the cold brick walls.

“Thank you” you tried to smile at him, if felt weird, you never smiled before but it felt like an instinct, if felt right to do when you were happy.

Zeldris frowned.

“If you try to pull anything, me and my family will kill you” he stated without any emotion.

“Thank you” you said again, leaving him confused and infuriated.

It was finally over, you were free, and should you fall into your mother´s hands again, they would end you.

Everything was going to be alright, you could rest assured.

Soon another prince was getting you out of the cell to bring you to the demon king, he wanted to be sure of your intent.

You knelt down in front of him and waited until he told you to speak.

“My mother sent me to exterminate your race, however that is not my intention. I want to thank you for saving me. I don´t wish to ever return to her, she´s a cruel woman” you told him, you didn´t know how you could speak so freely. Your mother would never let you, you were scared that she would hear you now somehow and scold you, but she didn´t come, everything was silent.

Peace.

It was the first time you experienced inner peace.

“I understand. You are allowed to walk freely” the demon king told you, making you bow your head in gratitude.

The castle was huge, but you didn´t realize you got lost, everything was so great and impressive.

You opened a door and hot steam hit your face, blinking a few times you realized you just stumbled into the bathroom where Meliodas was taking a bath.

He didn´t notice you at first, you stood silently in the doorway, not knowing what to do.

Should you just close the door and leave? But it was so nice and warm, you wondered how the water felt.

“Do you want to get in?” Meliodas asked you as he noticed you.

You nodded, slowly closing the door and entering the bathroom.

Fumbling with your clothing, you allowed yourself into the warm water. Usually you only splashed yourself with cold water to get clean, the thought of taking a bath to relax never once crossed your mind.

As you sunk into the water, a sigh of relief left your mouth as you closed your eyes, just enjoying the moment.

Meliodas´ eyes scanned your body, hunger blurring his thoughts. You were beautiful, he found it hard to control himself around you.

The demon inside of him told him to kill you at sight, but the bigger part of him told him to make you his.

“Thank you” you said, meeting his gaze and letting your arms rest beside you, you were on full display for him now.

Meliodas didn´t even try to cover up the fact that he was staring at your tits, he was so fixated on them that it was hard to hold back from touching them.

“For allowing me shelter...I don´t know if you realize this, but your family saved me” you explained after a little silence.

“And what do you have to offer as a sign of your gratitude?” he husked, his demonic aura taking over and darkening his eyes.

“I could become your solider and fight my clan with you” you stated, pledging your loyalty to the demon clan.

Meliodas smirked and put a wet strand of your hair behind your ear, the water droplets form his body fell down on yours and pearled down your flesh, he followed them intensely with his hungry eyes.

“Didn´t my father make it clear already that you fighting days are over? You´re gonna have to come up with a better way to show your gratitude” he purred, his eyes resting on your tits.

You thought about his words for a while in silence, the air around you was hot, the steam from the water rising up and making you dizzy.

“I have nothing to offer you… I only exist to fight, it´s the only thing I´ve ever known” you answered after a while, it frustrated you, suddenly you became hyper aware of yourself. You wanted to be your own person.

“I think you´re offering me quite a bit right now” he darkly smirked at you and you tilted your head in confusion.

“I...I don´t understand” you quietly admitted, furrowing your brows and helplessly looking at him.

His smirk widened, you were such an innocent one… he´d love to corrupt you.

Meliodas got awfully close to you and still wore that lustful smirk as he whispered in your ear how gorgeous your body was.

“You think so? I never put much thought into it… the only thing I needed this body for was to fight” you reckoned.

“You missed a lot of fun things you could do with it then. Do you want me to show you?” he husked into your ear to which you subconsciously nodded.

You had to admit you were quite curious.

Your breath hitched when Meliodas got even closer to you, you could feel his hot breath on your skin, wet strands of his hair fell in his face and droplets of water glistened on your skin.

A moan escaped your lips when his lips met the skin of your neck, it wasn´t soft.

No, Meliodas violently sucked on your neck, growling and leaving marks.

Though you didn´t mind, pain was a foreign concept to you and you felt something new with this… something exciting.

At the same time his hands found your boobs, squishing them rather roughly, enjoying the feel of hot skin.

His mouth wandered from your neck to your throat, then below to your collarbones and finally he had your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it and gently nibbling on it. Meanwhile with his other hand he pinched your other nipple between two fingers and circled it between them.

The feeling was overwhelming and you couldn´t quite control your body as you let out a rather loud moan.

Meliodas´ demonic aura was evident as Zeldris entered the bathroom, having heard your moan even downstairs.

“What the hell are you doing, brother? You´re hurting her” he called out and glared at him, trying his hardest not to stare at your beautiful bare form in front of him.

“She can´t feel pain anymore, it doesn´t matter. Besides, she´s not complaining. Why don´t you join us?” his tone was bitter, but he could see how badly his little brother wanted to have you as well.

Zeldris hesitantly undressed and let himself sink into the warm water next to you.

His eyes gazed over your skin, taking in the bruises his brother left.

Hesitantly he came closer to softly kiss each and every one of them, pulling you closer to him, his arm resting around your waist.

He pulled away for an instance and locked eyes with you before locking lips.

His gaze was so full of emotion you couldn´t read but would understand eventually.

And his kiss… it made you feel things you never did before, it was like the rush of going into battle, but so much more intense. And so much more… safe.

When his tongue touched yours, you felt a rush going to your middle and held on tighter to him.

While Zeldris was making out with you, Meliodas came up behind you to leave more marks on your neck and to caress your ass.

You felt yourself subconsciously grinding against his length as you flung your arms around Zeldris neck to deepen your kiss.

Soon Zeldris scooped you up to sit you down on the brink of the bath, his hands resting on your legs, softly tracing them over your skin.

“I´m sorry for the way I treated you before, I´m gonna make up for it now” he gently said and looked up at you before spreading your legs.

Somehow his words left an anticipating feeling in your stomach and you watched in awe as he started licking up your entrance.

Zeldris was so concentrated, sucking on your clit gently and awakening new sensations in your body.

He had to hold your legs down because they started shaking so much.

But that didn´t stop him from continuing his work as he dove his tongue into your pussy, immediately pressing it against your g-spot.

You felt your hips buck against his face, craving more.

The friction already drove you crazy and you didn´t quite know how to react to all these new feelings and sensations, however your body reacted on its own and you couldn´t hold back your moans and mewls.

You never wanted this feeling to stop and it got even better once he added his fingers, moving them in and out of you at a rapid pace.

Meanwhile he came up again and kissed you passionately, you returning it in the same way.

“I-I want to please you too...” you breathed out after you separated for air.

Zeldris blushed deeply at your boldness but couldn´t deny you, so he now took your place and sat down on the brink of the bath.

“I´m also not done with you yet” Meliodas called out and made you bend over, placing a knee between your legs and spreading you open.

You felt a rush of excitement go through you as you felt his length press up against you, entering you in one swift move.

A cry of pleasure left your lips and you leaned down over Zeldris´ cock to circle your tongue around his tip.

He sucked in his breath at that and gripped your hair, whimpering as you continued and now put it in your mouth to suck on it.

Meliodas meanwhile slammed his hips into yours unapologetic roughly and that way you were forced to take Zeldris deeper into your mouth.

Saliva was dripping down his cock, coating it and he moaned loudly, your own moans only adding to his pleasure.

You could hear Meliodas´ low growls and grunts from behind you, the way he gripped your ass tightly and used you to his own pleasure was exciting beyond belief.

And then there was Zeldris who looked at you with such emotion in his eyes, something so pure and warm, it was like a flame that wouldn´t burn you. Something you never experienced before. The way he ignited said flame inside of you, in such a different way than his brother did.

Meliodas made you dizzy with pleasure but Zeldris made you fuzzy with feelings.

And as the realization hit you that what you were feeling could possibly be love, you let a wave of pleasure overcome you.

Meliodas still pushed in and out of you throughout your orgasm until he came inside of you, his cum leaking and dripping out of you while Zeldris came in your mouth, you tried to swallow it all, but it was too much and so some of it drizzled down your chin.

Meliodas pulled out of you and you also let go of Zeldris to catch a breath.

“You did well” Meliodas smirked and left you two alone.

Zeldris held your collapsed form and cradled your back while you gazed up at him with tired eyes.

He proceeded to wash your body gently, cleansing it and kissing your marks again.

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hailbop1701 · 3 years

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Chapter Five: Check Your Misery At The Door...

Hey everyone! Chapter five is finally here and this one has a bit more angst in it. I wanted to try and delve a bit deeper into how Bones/Reaper feels and how he deals with the crew. Please tell me what you think! And once again thank you @dw-writes for being an amazing friend and beta! I would be lost and fumbling without you my dear! Cause I royally suck at editing and keeping my tenses straight.

-H❤🖖

The hard metal door was like puddy in Reaper’s hands as he yanked it off its frame. His adrenaline was still pumping from his fight with the Hell Knights and his need to protect his friends at the forefront of his mind gave him a dangerous boost. Panting, he pushed into the room, his eyes immediately adjusting to the darkness.

Looking around, he spotted Beckworth pulling ensign Bitar to her feet. She was in hysterics. John gave them a quick once over before moving further into the room looking for Chekov, Kirk, and Lawrence. The sound of grunting made him turn. Pavel was in the corner, trying to lift a heavy shelving unit. John was by his side in seconds.

“The Keptin..” the young navigator panted as he tried to lift the shelves again.

“Jim!” Reaper called out as he gently pushed Chekov to the side. He only relaxed as a muffled, pissed-off, “I’m fine, Bones, Get to Lawrence!” reached his ears. With one heave, the shelf was lifted and pushed back up-right again. Jim Kirk groaned and got to his feet with a wince. John moved to check on him but finally, the smell of charred, burned, dead flesh reached his nose. Something in his stomach dropped. Kirk’s “help Lawrence” was clear now. But he already knew there was no helping the security ensign.

Looking at Jim, John saw the angry pained expression on the captain’s face. Jim hated losing crewmen. Glaring up at a camera, Reaper picked his way through the melted obliterated mess of the supply room. Pushing aside small charred bodies, John quickly figured out what had happened.

Somehow, Lawrence was cornered by Veera’s newest creations, and he knew he wasn’t going to make it out. He set his phaser to overload, taking out as many as he could, knowing that the shelves would block the others from the brunt of the blast. Kneeling down next to the ensign, John pulled his melted deformed Starfleet insignia from his kit and pocketed it. Looking at the demons on the ground, Reaper couldn’t help but feel slightly nauseated. They were all small, and young, and had once been full of promise and joy. Now, they were burnt dead husks. That was how they got him. Children were now monsters.

Though John did have some clue of their existence, he wasn’t entirely sure. Those small footprints could have been caused by anything. Shaking his head, the ex-marine examined his surroundings.

Bingo.

On the far wall to his right was a vent, blackened due to the explosion. It looked as if it had been torn open. Blood dripped from the metal grate onto the dark floor. Some survived.

‘How intelligent were they?’ John wondered as he got back to his feet.

Making his way back over to the team, John handed Jim the ensigns badge. Kirk swallowed and nodded, taking the small object, only looking at it briefly before sticking it in his pocket. “We need to keep moving,” John said quietly, his eyes landing on each of the remaining members of the away team.

Jim clenched his jaw and led the group out.

Beckworth gave John a sharp nod in respect before following his captain back out into the fire.

Bitar sniffed, clenching her hands into fists and squeezing her eyes shut, hoping to stop the oncoming tears. She took several deep steadying breaths, and then she too left the room.

Only two were left standing in the dark. Pavel kicked away a broken tricorder, a deep, sad, and angry frown on his face.

Sighing, John ran a hand through his shortened hair, “I’m sorry Pavel. I know Gabe was a friend of yours.”

The kid looked up at Reaper and shook his head, and said with conviction “It’s not your fault.” before stalking out of the room.

John stood there alone in the dark and silence, letting Chekov’s words wash over him. He wanted to believe the kid, he really, really did, but something kept stopping him. A little voice in the back of his mind kept whispering how it was his fault, how if he had done a better job of getting rid of the UAC and C-24, they wouldn’t be in that position in the first place. Shaking his head, John strode out of the dark and into the messy, painfully bright corridor where the others waited for him.

He could doubt and hate himself later. He needed to get the others off of Genesis and back onto the Enterprise. In one swift movement, John picked up his old rifle and moved ahead of the group once more. They were getting close to the signal and John Grimm was already dreading what he’ll find. He knew it wasn’t going to be good.

Stepping over the bodies of the Hell Knights and the other infected, Reaper felt Jim move so he was shoulder to shoulder with him. “What’s on your mind, Bones? You got that weird crease going on between your eyes.”

John looked at Kirk and saw that the kid was trying to make him feel better. He let out a dry humorless chuckle, which only made Jim nudge him. “A lot is on my mind, Jim. You gotta be more specific.”

Kirk chewed on his lip and looked down at the heavy phaser rifle in his hands. ‘Like it’s doing me any good.’ the captain thought sourly. Humming, Jim thought about his words carefully, “You know the person who sent out the signal,” he stated, avoiding the topic of Lawrence and the obvious guilt Kirk knew his best friend was feeling. Though the man walking next to him was different from the man he met on the academy shuttle all those years ago. Jim looked at “Reaper” harder.

If he cocked his head to the side and squinted, he could still see his “Bones”. Kind-hearted, growly, piss and vinegar “Bones”. This man, “Reaper” was just an old, steely, tired version of the man he knew to be his friend. So, Jim, after a lot of thought, accepted him. He almost wanted to giggle, “My best friend is a two-hundred give or take a decade-year-old badass that fights monsters.”

“Jim you’re staring and it’s creepin’ me out. And if you’re back with me- yes I know who sent the signal out.”

Kirk shot Reaper a sad crooked smile. “Sorry I was just thinking that the old man jokes are gonna be a little too accurate.” he chuckled ruefully.

John snorted, rolling his eyes, “Like that would ever stop you.” A couple of well-covered snorts made him glance over his shoulder at Beckworth and Chekov. “Children the lot of ya,” he growled good-naturedly.

Beckworth smirked, “Well, if you want to get technical…”

John scoffed, and was about to retort, but his eyes landed on ensign Bitar at the back of the group, and he fell silent. Her face was stony, arms crossed, and away from everyone. She was closing herself off. Trying to stay emotionless, keeping everyone at arm’s length. Something he was all too familiar with. In his mind, Leonard McCoy was pounding on the walls of his mind, screaming obscenities at him. “Help her damnit! She won’t survive if you don’t!”

“Pavel how much further until we reach-” John didn’t even have to finish.

Chekov looked down at his PADD and pointed to a set of double sliding doors ahead. They were high-security clearance and locked down tight.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“Chekov, help me get this door open,” Jim said, shouldering his rifle onto his back. The Russain quickly followed, leaving Beckworth, Bitar, and John to guard them.

Letting out a heavy sigh Reaper jerked his head, signaling Beckworth to watch over Kirk and Chekov as they worked. Receiving the silent order, Beckworth gave John a nod and a grunted: “See if you can get through to her.”

John slowly made his way over to ensign Bitar, making sure his presence was known. She was glaring heatedly at the ground, making a point to not look up at him. “Lyla,” John urged, bending slightly so he could catch her eyes. The young woman shifted so she was standing straight-backed and looking ahead. The image of a perfect officer. In all honesty, it made him sad, not just the Leonard McCoy part of him, but the John Grimm part as well. ‘They shouldn’t have to face my past’

“Lieutenant Commander,” Bitar acknowledged crisply. John let out a little breath, he nodded in understanding. Looking down at his feet, John let McCoy come back through, they trusted him. Not John.

“I’m sorry about Gabe, Lyla. I know the two of you were close,” he whispered gently. Lyla clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking, or possibly from committing insubordination. She shook her head and glared at John with tired eyes. Accusing.

“He was a good officer. A better friend, and he-” she cut herself off by choking back a sob. Inside John was warring with himself. On one side he wanted to be the soldier he once was, tell her to pull back her shoulders and move on. But on the other side was McCoy, shouting and screaming at him to “Be a fucking human being for once and give the girl some slack,”

Chewing on his bottom lip, John averted his eyes, giving the ensign a moment to collect herself. Once she quickly wiped her eyes and nose, John moved so he stood in front of her blocking everyone on the away team from her.

Lowering his voice, he whispered, “Gabe was on his way to great things. Someone to be proud of and to look up to. I’ve seen...it all happen before. A kid in a situation that he shouldn’t have been put in, in the first place. Doing the right thing and getting killed for it. And I won’t be able to stop seeing it. Over, and over, and over again. Lyla, I know I can’t make things better, and I can’t just pretend that things will be alright once this is all over.....None of this will happen to anyone else ever again. You can have my word on that, even if you no longer trust me.”

Ensign Bitar must have seen something in Reaper’s eyes because her own softened. She nodded, and she couldn’t help but feel sad for the ship’s CMO. He had, no matter what, always been there for every member of the crew. She was raw, mad at everything. She had lost a close friend and she had to point fingers. He was the closest target. Someone who had lied for years about who he was, what he was. The trust that Doctor Leonard McCoy had so carefully crafted over the many adventures the Enterprise had crumbled away like dust. Lyla knew she wasn’t the only one. The away team, and whoever was watching, wanted answers. Better than the ones he was offering.

She saw it. In the Captain’s eyes, in Pavel’s, and Beckworth’s. Hurt, confusion, anger, and betrayal. She knew that McCoy, or whoever he was, was well aware of it all, even if he tried to hide it, it weighed on him. And at that moment, the look in his eyes told her all she needed to know to trust him again. Even if it was only a fraction of what it used to be.

He felt what they were feeling, but maybe even more. Years upon years of pain, loneliness, and a hidden rage against the universe. It hurt him to hurt them. But, he was willing to suffer for them anyway.

Reaper. That’s what the file said. The stories were always horrible...about Grim Reapers but everyone seemed to have forgotten that they were angels, too.

Lyla gave John a small sad smile, remembering the advice he told her when she transferred onto the ship after Khan destroyed the city. Her family. She remembered being so angry all the time. A burning rage never going out.

He took one look at her and said with a knowing look, “Check your misery at the door. Keep it out. Otherwise, it will keep coming back to steal your soul.”

Lyla took a deep breath, and let the pain out. Gabe, she realized, wouldn’t want her to point fingers or be angry. He would want her to get the hell out of there alive. So, she reached out a hand and placed it on John’s arm, giving it a squeeze. She wasn’t sure if it was for her reassurance, or his.

“Check your misery at the door Doctor,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

The man stiffened ever so slightly before his shoulders dropped in defeat. “I thought I was supposed to make you feel better,” he muttered and the ensign simply shrugged, letting her hand fall back to her side.

“We’re all in this fight together. Gabe knew that, that’s why he...saved us. Made sure we got a chance and...I know that’s what you’re trying to do. Give us a chance. I don’t know if it will heal anything, but it could be a start.” With those final words ensign, Bitar strode away over to her C.O. her shoulders back, and her head held up high. She was ready for another round.

“We’re in!” Chekov called out triumphantly, and waved over the rest of the group to where he and Jim were working. Rushing over, John watched as Jim entered a passcode into the keypad to the right of the door. After a breath, they watched as the classified research lab opened up before them.

Pavel let out a quiet gasp of horror and John, in one swift movement, pulled his rifle from his back. Jim let out a string of Klingon curses. John swallowed, taking in the scene; blood of many colors coated the area; bodies lay strewn about haphazardly, all in different stages of decay.

Keeping everyone back, John entered first. He scanned the lab looking for any signs of danger, but it was clear. The dread in the pit of his stomach became bile in his throat, burning, wanting to come out. John stood stock still, his eyes boring into one dead body in particular.

From a medical point of view. A distanced point of view. He could tell the person was female, petite, her once chestnut hair coated in blood and grime. Her eyes were no longer green but a sightless grey. A familiar young woman whom he watched from a distance grow up. He always kept away from what family he had left but they did their damnedest to keep in touch with him. Even if he never really answers.

“Bones?”

Kirk’s voice jolted him back to the present. Clenching his jaw, Reaper stepped over various people to get to her. Looking at her more closely, he spotted the phaser on the floor just under one of her limp hands. Refusing to show anything, or even look away, John gently closed her eyes. His gaze moved to another object sitting in her lap. A PADD with a bloody picture was nestled in her lap.

The picture was a reprint but still managed to punch him in the gut all the same. It was of him holding a baby, a small rare smile gracing his face. John picked it up with a forced steady hand, remembering that day clearly in the back of his mind. It was the day his nephew had been born, of course, the picture had been taken before Sam had told him that they named the baby John.

After that, he was all half-hearted scowls and glares. The girl who sat as an empty husk before him was his nephew’s great-great-great-great granddaughter. Well, one of them at least. She was family and she was here because of him.

Jim stood silently by his side, unsure of what to say or do. “You knew her,” he whispered finally.

John looked over at his best friend and nodded. “She’s my niece.”

The words hung in the air like the smell of rot and burned flesh. John’s hand ghosted over the girl’s cheek as he reached for the PADD sitting in her lap. Jim carefully took hold of her Starfeel badge and gave a gentle tug until it came free with a snap. The name “Lieutenant Layla Grimm” engraved on the back. John turned away his attention down at the device in his hands rather than the death around him and forced his mind to focus.

Jim felt his heart crack and break for his friend. Pocketing the badge, Jim moved away from most of the bloody carnage over to Chekov, who was busy trying to get into the computer system. “Talk to me Chekov, what do you got?”

The navigator didn’t bother glancing up from his work. “It’s a mess, keptin. The jammer that is keeping us from the Enterprise is located on the main bridge of the station. I can tell this because there is more interference in this section...and that’s what I would do sir. The bridge is the hardest place to get to.”

Jim nodded in agreement, “So we have to make our way through a swarm of flesh-eating monsters to get to our goal. Great. Got a route planned out?”

Chekov grimaced but nodded all the same. “I do but it’s dangerous,”

Kirk sighed, his head rolling to the side, a look of exasperation on his face. “When is it not?” he asked rhetorically. Chekov looked past Kirk at McCoy - or Grimm - and shifted nervously, once again getting Jim’s attention. Following the ensign’s gaze, Jim sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I also found this,” Pavel whispered, holding up a black drive. It was sleek and splashed with blood but appeared to be in working order. Taking it, Jim turned it in his hands and froze. He understood why Chekov was hesitant. There was a single word engraved on the drive. Not a word but a name.

Reaper.

Swallowing, Kirk looked at Pavel, nodding, he slipped the drive into his back pocket. Out of the hands of anyone else. Whatever was on it was safe with him.

“Jim!”

Whipping around at the sound of his name, Kirk spotted Bones at another terminal. His posture was stiff, jaw tight, and hands clenched into fists. John Grimm was anything but calm. Rushing to his side, Jim finally saw what had his friend tense and more pissed off than usual.

There, grinning wickedly and seductively on the screen, was Veera. When Jim entered her view she gave a little pout, but continued on talking,

“ - as I was saying, congratulations on getting to one of the research labs. Your...what did you call her John? Your niece? Oh, she did well, you should be proud of what she accomplished in a short amount of time! Fought bravely and all that...tragic death though. I wouldn’t have gone out that way but to each his own I guess…”

Kirk placed a calming hand on John’s arm as he gripped the desk. The metal twisting like puddy under his hands. “Either get to the point or fuck off,” he growled out eyes narrowing.

Veera chuckled, sitting up, she stretched, making sure Reaper got an eye full of cleavage before she settled again. Her white smile was more like a predator baring her teeth rather than something charming, John wasn’t amused.

Veera tapped a command into her velvet-covered chair and looked at them with a twisted smirk. The screens around them lit up each one showing part of John’s old lives. Some had pictures, some had rough sketches of a man with his face covered in shadows.

John, of course, kept his face blank but he felt his heart begin to race and mouth dry up. Jim wasn’t so quick to cover up his shock, curiosity, and horror. Veera practically purred at the sight.

“Section 31 and the organizations before it have been trying to keep an eye on you for quite some time. Little Miss Grimm did a wonderful job trying to make it disappear. She joined Starfleet, worked her way up, and managed to get her foot into 31 just before Marcus fell. She kept her head down and has been covering for you since then. She was so close to her ultimate goal in protecting her Uncle John.” Veera gave a mock pout, but it easily melted into a grin. She pulled a PADD from her seat, flicking through it she hummed and clicked her tongue. “Shame she failed. This is juicy stuff, John. Were you really a police officer? Where do you keep the andr-”

Veera’s face was suddenly gone in a flash of sparks and shattered glass. Jim jumped back in surprise, a cry of concern dying on his lips as he watched his best friend turned mystery examined his glass-covered fist with disinterest and a scowl.

“Doctor!” Jim didn’t have to voice his concerns because Chekov did it for him. The navigator was watching John’s hand with wide eyes.

As John picked and plucked the glass from his hand with a grumble as Jim and Pavel watched the skin heal almost instantly.

“You were a cop?” Jim asked, cocking his head to the side.

Reaper grimaced, “detective,” he muttered, glancing over at the monitor that held his record. Jim followed his gaze and pressed his lips into a thin line in order to keep his curiosity at bay. John rolled his eyes at the captain, “We’ll talk about it later.”

“McCoy, Captain!” Bitar called from across the room. The three men turned to see Lyla jerk her head in Beckworth’s direction. The security officer was hunched over a terminal, cursing up and down.

Pulling out the last piece of glass from his hand, John flicked it away before moving over to Beckworth. “Henry.”

The man in question looked up and indicated to the screen “We have a problem,”

“You mean bigger than the one we’re already dealing with?” Reaper asked with a raised eyebrow. With a sigh, John tapped at the screen bringing up a bigger picture of what Beckworth was looking at. Security footage of the medical facility was on the screen and he really didn’t like what he was looking at.

Men and women stalked through the mall with purpose. Their formation was tight and professional, and their shirts glowed light blue in the dim emergency lighting. “That’s not good,” he muttered. Zooming in, John memorized each of their faces and noted that they were all covered in blood. Some of it was fresh. Too fresh for it to be from someone infected.

Veera’s laugh echoed through the station. The group of Section 31 agents tensed and paused, their phaser rifles pointing every which way as they tried to pin down where the voice was coming from.

“A little bit of a surprise for you John. Just a little something to keep things interesting. You see, I gave team Delta an incentive. If they take you and yours down before you get to the bridge then they get to leave. Free and clear and whole.”

“Shit, fucking damnit!” Reaper cursed. Whipping around, he looked at Chekov pleadingly. Without having to say a word, Paval ran to the main terminal and began typing feverishly.

“I want it all gone, Chekov! We can’t leave any of this here. Bones, what’s the plan here?”

Reaper looked over at Kirk and Beckworth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bitar running around to each screen doing as Chekov instructed. Both were trying to keep his past right where it was supposed to be. In the past.

His mind ran a mile a second. Coming up with plans wasn’t exactly his forte, even after all this time. Sighing, he closed his eyes, thinking about the layout of the medical center; he had to assume that they would most likely come from two different directions. To box them in.

“We need to go. Get to the biggest part of the station. The mall will be the best place for us to either lose them or…” he trailed off letting both Jim and Henry fill in the blanks themselves.

Jim grumbled at the prospect of taking out the team of agents but at that point, there wasn’t exactly much of a choice.

“Chekov!”

“Da, it is ready. Doctor…” Pavel looked up at John with a small smile as he stepped away from the terminal. Stepping forward John saw that the kid had gathered every file Starfleet had on him, a box blinked on the screen asking if he wished to delete the information. “You do the honors, doctor,” Chekov whispered. Swallowing hard, John hit the “Yes” command and watched as Chekov’s virus washed away everything.

Nodding, the navigator gathered his things before looking up. “That was a mere copy of the files. No one should be able to get them from here ever again. Veera has another, but that should be easy to get rid of if we get her PADD...but the main file is-” Pavel looked down, almost ashamed with himself. “On a server. I don’t know where it is exactly but I do have a name…it’s at a location named: Ares.”

John placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you for what you did, even if it was just a piece.”

Letting his hand fall he moved to the blast door where Jim and the others waited patiently. Jim gave John a nod and opened the door. Moving ahead of the group, John raised his rifle and took back his misery.

He has never been one to take his own advice.

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Hollow Castle: @chook007, @lauranthalasah, @startrekkingaroundasgard

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why. Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds. When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you. "Yes." Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic. Always had been. It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary. You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. who knows, honestly. the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.

tags. blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy, fluff, slow burn, smut, pining, unrequited love.

rating. ... 18+?

word count. ~7600

chapter 8.

You're reminded of how hard things like this are for you, anxiety digging its dull claws into the pit of your stomach and making the slow crawl up your sternum. It's not painful, per se, but the ache is there, evident with each swipe of your tongue, each persistent checking of your phone. You thrive on your own - much prefer it to the demand that sits heavy on your shoulders, working to coax you from your shell.

It's not that the people weren't nice. No, everyone was perfectly lovely.

Taehyung's friends had gone out of their way to chat with you. That is, except for Yoongi, who'd sat in silence next to you for the duration of time it took to eat his slice of cake - strawberry, you noted with deep satisfaction. He'd simply nodded when he'd finished, plate spotless, and walked off, back in the direction of the kitchen.

Even all of Gahyeon's friends were charming, the kind of people you'd want to grow up with. Beautiful women with the same sweet smile and flirtation on their fingertips; appealing men that had laughter rolling off them in tremendous waves as they shared inside jokes. They'd been incredibly kind, involving you as often as they could, asking about your life and interests and hobbies.

No, you didn't have a problem with anyone there. Well, maybe that wasn't true.

Perhaps you were a little frustrated, coloured a muddy green by the monster that lurked behind your uncomfortable smile. You shouldn't have been, though, and that was what drove you mad, pink swiping over your bottom lip in repetitive motions. Not even your Dior Lip Glow - brought out for special occasions and a far cry from your bubble gum balm - could save you.

Because he was right there. So close you could've closed the distance with an outstretched arm, curled your fingers around the turn of his silver-linked wrist and distracted him. Not that you would. Of course not.

You were here with someone else and well, he could do what he wanted.

The knowledge does little to quell the ache in your chest, though.

You'd always known Jungkook's effect on people - had felt it firsthand. The way he could make you feel like you were the only person in the world, as if every thought you had was worthy of his time. You knew the way he laughed, that godforsaken witch's cackle somehow endlessly endearing. Even those two larger-than-usual front teeth of his could be considered positive traits. They all amounted to more than you could ever begin to put into words.

So you try to ignore the way the sound nearly smothers you now, pervades your senses and beats against your eardrums. You turn your focus on something else - anything else - to forget the pealing bells of the girl he's speaking with and how, together, it sounds like music. You bite at nothing, gnashing your molars into oblivion when her voice joins the fray, velveteen and promising. You can imagine the way she looks at him - the same way you had, maybe still did - and how he'd be honey in her hands, seeping between her fingers.

"Actually, I know Jiyeon, too."

Your name tears you from your thoughts, snaps you into reality with a harsh tug. The same feeling comes physically, but far gentler. It's a hand on the back of your arm, just above your elbow. You almost flinch - almost - turning with what you hope is surprise and nonchalance on your face.

"Pardon?" The single word is laced with enough emotion to explode on impact, breaking across the dusty line of your obliterated enamel and slipping into the sharp evening breeze. Whether Dahye - you think that's her name - notices, you're not sure. She simply meets your stare with a pretty smile, delicate chin canted in curiosity.

It's Jungkook that has you reeling back, working desperately to rearrange your emotions, because whatever he'd expected to find in the shape of your mouth, the depth of your eyes - it isn't this.

The second feels like an eternity before it's swept up in the turn of his lips and his lovable laugh.

"I was just telling Jihye—" Dammit, wrong name. "—that we know each other." Something sweeps along the undercurrent of his response, tickling at the ends of syllables without overwhelming. Your eyes narrow, trying to read the answer he offers and everything in between.

Once upon a time, you'd thought you could read him like a book. Now, you're not so sure. The invisible ink disappears into his skin, the spaces between his teeth. They're not shades of gold, gleaming bright for your eyes only.

"What a small world," Jihye chirps, ever the benign figure. "Did you go to school together?"

He answers before you can, nodding in affirmation. "We were both doing art degrees. We got paired up for a few projects and helped each other out of tight spots." It shouldn't hurt, the way he speaks so nonchalantly. You should be bobbing along, offering casual anecdotes that give truth to his words. Instead, you feel as if you're six feet under and clawing at your own grave, sealed there by a one Jeon Jungkook.

Opening your mouth feels like a colossal chore and you're worried you won't be able to speak around the dirt that bites into your lungs. It tastes bitter and angry - gasoline and saltwater.

Neither of them notice, though, Jihye already somehow - no, you knew exactly how - enthralled in some story he's telling. He was an expert at that, after all, weaving colourful pictures with all the practice of Shakespeare. He'd done it for four years straight, dragging you through the fables that littered his brain.

"I'm going to get another drink," you announce, out of the blue, in the middle of their stupid mellifluous laughter.

Jihye waves as you leave. Jungkook would do the same, if he didn't feel locked in place by the sight of your retreating figure.

You make your way through dispersed throngs of people, greeting familiar faces when you pass them. There's Hoseok and Gahyeon standing together by the main entryway, the leading roles in a romance as they duck their heads and giggle together. Jin's booming voice can be heard from the kitchen, somewhere behind the state-of-the-art appliances because you can't see him. The familiar lilac of Namjoon's crown catches your eye exiting what you assume is the washroom, his beer held loosely between two fingers.

"Kim seongsangnim!" The title has him turning his head slowly, as if surprised. You know he isn't, spy it in the flat line of his smile. Still, he puts on a show, glancing this way and that to figure out who has called out to him.

It isn't until you're right in front of him, head barely clearing the slope of his jaw, that he exclaims. "Oh, Jiyeon-ah."

"Do you know where Taehyung went?" The question doesn't surprise him as he cocks his head toward what you assume is the rear of the home. "He, Jimin, and Yoongi-hyung are all downstairs. I was just heading back." Without missing a beat, you follow after him, trading your now-empty champagne flute for another on the kitchen island when you pass.

"Gahyeon's really nice," you muse, trailing after the other. You know you don't need to fill the silence, but you try anyway.

The producer hums in agreement. "Yeah, she is. I think she's good for Hope." You're not sure what that means but you're glad, all things considered. The two were like sunflowers, craning for warmer weather and rays; it made you happy they'd found each other.

"And what about everyone else?" It's a question that comes after a moment's hesitation. Your relationship with he and Yoongi had changed over the weeks, morphed into something more relaxed, but you still wondered where that invisible line sat. You worried, briefly, that you'd thrown yourself across it when Namjoon tosses a look over his shoulder.

"What do you mean?" There's no disapproval in his tone, only careful curiosity.

"Do any of you have someone special in your lives?" Another pause, tasting the inquiry before it can get you in trouble. "Or is anyone catching your eye here?"

You're treated with a laugh and that relieves the tension you're carrying, dragging it off your shoulders with the sound.

"It's not my place to say," Namjoon answers, unflappable. The respect he has for his friends is unparalleled. You like that about him. You feel silly for asking, though he continues speaking, voice softly amused. "I don't think any of us are going to find our next true loves here, though."

Your head cocks. He sounds so sure. "Why not?"

"Didn't you notice that's what most of these girls are looking for? It's hardest to find something when you're actively seeking it out."

Now that he mentioned it, you had noticed the way the other guests had seemed to make a beeline for the six - no, five - men who were otherwise strangers. You'd thought it was a little odd but had chalked it up to their good looks and whatever Gahyeon had shared about them. It clicks into place more slowly than it should. "Oh."

Namjoon chuckles but the sound is friendly, strings of mockery few and far between. "Exactly."

"Jiyeon-ah! You've come to join us!" The sandy strands catch the light before you see the rest of him, Jimin's head popping up over the back of some very comfortable looking chairs. He's half-turned to face you, beaming brightly as another head ascends into view beside him.

"She has a viewing room?" You can't help the way you sound, incredulous and envious all at once. Maybe you'd have to offer to be her live-in maid.

"Isn't it great?" Taehyung's at your side in an instant, brushing past Namjoon who settles into a seat a few feet away. You wave at Yoongi who's sequestered in a corner, playing with his phone and nursing a sizable glass of red wine, before meeting your boyfriend's stare. "I wasn't sure where you went but we got distracted in here." He sounds a little guilty, his lips soft against your cheek.

Your hand finds a home against his chest and you apply minimal pressure - the laziest rebuff you can possibly offer and one he ignores, arms looping comfortably around your waist. "You left me with the wolves." There's absolutely no malice in your words.

"They're not wolves! Everyone's really nice!" Jimin's not wrong.

"I'm kidding," you tease. "Though, Hoseok oppa might disagree." The sound of your snicker is amplified by the others' amusement, even Yoongi who looks up from his phone with a smug gummy smile.

"Did I hear my name?" The devil has materialized seemingly out of thin air, hip cocked as he descends the stairs. Luckily, he's alone.

"No!" You and Jimin chorus in near unison, sharing a conspiratorial grin before laying the rest of your charm - which you possessed nearly nothing of, in comparison to Jimin - on the suspicious brunet.

"Where's Gahyeon?" Taehyung verbalizes the question you're all thinking.

"Upstairs. She sent me to come get you." The answer is followed by a sniff, a wave of his hand as if he's indignant about whatever's been said. You know he isn't - and so does everyone else - but you play along like good sports, hmm-ing thoughtfully and expressing your thanks. "They want to play some get-to-know-you games. One of her friends is a teacher so she thought it was a good idea."

You meet Yoongi's stare over Taehyung's shoulder and you're pleasantly surprised he looks just as unimpressed as you feel. It makes you chuckle, stifling the sound into the collar of Taehyung's shirt.

"What are we, in sixth grade?" Despite the roll of feline eyes, Yoongi has risen from his seat and stepped closer to the stairs.

"Yes, you are." Hoseok's response is emphatic, as if he's talking to children. Then he's grinning, turning on his heel, and disappearing back the way he came. "Come on, kids!"

That garners a response, the remaining five of you shouting after him but doing as you're told, nonetheless, filing back up to the main floor.

"Jiyeon-ah, come sit!" Gahyeon's beckoning you from her seat, cross-legged and comfortable. There are open seats to both sides, and you sink into the one on her right, offering a grateful smile that she returns with ease. "Everyone, sit beside someone you don't know."

The look on Taehyung's face is that of a kicked puppy as she pointedly meets his gaze, gesturing for him to take up root elsewhere. You can't help but laugh, waving apologetically at your boyfriend's back as he drops into a spot across the loose circle, flanked by two girls that greet him warmly.

It surprises you how little it bothers you.

"I guess I'm here."

The last person you want beside you is joining you on the couch, Jihye nowhere in sight. He's got his hood up around his head, pulled forward like some kind of Sith Lord, and you can't ignore such a golden opportunity for mockery.

"Sorry - I'm not the droid you're looking for, Darth Vader." God, you're proud of that one, amusement twinkling in your eyes.

"Oh, right."

He makes a movement as if he's about to move but then whips around just as quickly, hand out, palm facing you. You take the bait, fingers flying to your throat in a dramatic re-enactment of the famous scene. You sputter around an obnoxious gasp, eyes rolling back as he laughs, the sound purposefully - and truthfully, very poorly - rasped out.

It's only when Gahyeon speaks that you're reminded of where you are and who you're with. You're immediately sober, straightening up at the same time Jungkook does.

"So, we're going to play some games to get to know everyone." No one dares scoff at the proposed activity. At least, not to her face. No one wants to see her angelic smile drop - or deal with whatever eccentric wrath Hoseok might unleash. "First, we'll do two truths and a lie. Pretty self-explanatory, right?" A single hand rises now, delicately presenting her generous glass of Riesling. Mischief dances across her expression. "Everyone will say which they think is the lie. For those that get it right, you don't have to drink. For those that do, a sip of your drink!"

"And no baby sips, either!" Her partner-in-crime choruses, raising his shot glass.

You study the near-full flute in your hand. Should you grab another?

"I've got you covered," comes the soft voice from your right and you follow the path of his fingers to the assorted soju bottles by his feet. A brow quirks in silent question and you meet his stare like a concerned mother. "Hobi-hyung told me to stock up before he went to get the rest of you."

You snort. "Well, you definitely did."

"Keep it up and you won't get any." His threat is rounded edges and hardly a threat at all.

It's so easy to get lost in a world with him, one miles away from this one. You have to bite back your response, instead returning your attention to the blonde on your left.

"I'll go first," she chirps, all sunshine and smiles. "I'm twenty-seven, I model, and I'm related to Shin Kwangho." The conspiratorial smile you receive is well-intended, but you're still dumbfounded for the right answer. You hadn't thought to ask how old she was or what she did and neither she nor Hoseok had offered anything up over the course of the evening.

Could you see him dating an older woman? Well, yes. But was she also beautiful enough to be featured on the cover of magazines? Also, yes.

Your brow furrows, fraught with confusion, and you barely hear the whisper above your right shoulder. "She's older than Hobi-hyung."

"Okay, at the count of three, please indicate with your fingers which you think is a lie." You think she'd be a wonderful MC or variety show hostess by the way she patiently studies the room, making sure each other person is ready. She's very much in her element now, surrounded by people she (mostly) intimately knows. "One, two— three!"

Your hand flies up, two fingers held up. Beside you, and along the circle, the same is reflected by most people.

"I'm not a model. I'm an art dealer." It's only Jin that's gotten the answer wrong.

He takes a swig from his bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a flourish before bowing to the winners. "I won't lose again," he promises. Yoongi laughs at that - a sound you hardly catch from where you sit, but that you can read in the way his lips pull back and his eyes crinkle.

"Your turn, Jiyeon-ah!"

Shit. You hadn't expected it to go counterclockwise. You scramble for facts and settle for stealing one of Gahyeon's. "I'm twenty-two, I have a cat, and um—" You're trying to think of a last one, your cheeks filling with air as you inhale deeply, seeking an epiphany in the breath. "—I play the piano."

You're not sure who will get it right. Jungkook, maybe. Taehyung, too. You're not sure how much you've revealed to Namjoon and Yoongi but you know they have a better chance.

"One, two— three!" Gahyeon's quick this time. She can read the room.

The results are varied, with most people holding two fingers aloft. As predicted, Jungkook's got his pointer finger in the air, pride stretching his smile and revealing adorable bunny teeth; Yoongi joins him in the realms of success and so do a handful of others who'd simply hazarded guesses. "I'm twenty-three. Sorry, everyone."

"But you’re twenty-two." The confusion reads like playful belligerence, filling the otherwise quiet circle as people take their requisite drinks. Taehyung's brow is knit, mouth drawn into a flat pout. He looks so cute, you almost want to give him a pity point.

Jungkook answers for you, shaking his head as his hand drops into his lap. "No, she's twenty-three."

The older of the two ignores the correction. "You said you were twenty-two."

"It was my birthday after we met."

"You didn't tell me?" Now that stirs the group, unease drawing forth conversation as it that might stifle the sudden discomfort. Even Gahyeon looks like she's at a loss for words, turning to Hoseok with a look of alarm in her eyes.

You're locked in a staring match with your boyfriend, unable to read the emotion that flickers across his face.

"Okay, let's keep moving!" It's Hoseok to the rescue, clapping his hands to gather everyone's attention once again. Taehyung breaks before you do, swivelling his stare to his friend as you heave a sigh. You'll deal with this later. "Jungkookie, it's your turn."

You feel him stir beside you, sitting up ever so slightly straighter as he speaks. "I have less than ten tattoos, I'm lactose intolerant, and I've been to Disneyland." You don't even have to think about your answer. He drank banana milk like he was made of it and he'd taken you to the happiest place on Earth for your birthday two years ago.

"One, two— three!"

Your pointer finger shoots up, as does Namjoon's, Yoongi's, and Jimin's. Jin's does, too, after a moment of hesitation. He seems eager not to lose again - at least, not so soon. Almost everyone else seems to have gone with the lactose intolerance lie.

"I've got more than ten tattoos." As if to prove it, Jungkook waves his hand around, showing off the ink that litters his otherwise unblemished skin.

People take their losses easily and the game continues, rolling to the girl next to Jungkook. She's beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way, with pretty eyes and thin petal pink lips. She lists her facts: half Japanese, born in America, and a former idol trainee. Everything seems about as preposterous as the next, so you don't think too hard, instead taking the time to rib your seatmate.

"The tattoo thing wasn't fair. You shouldn't get to use absolutes." You don't really mind - you hadn't lost, after all, but you like giving him a hard time.

He accepts it easily, allows it to slip off his broad back like a duck in water. "And you should've told TaeTae it was your birthday."

You’re not sure what you’d expected. He wasn’t wrong. No, not even a little bit. But you’re immediately on the offensive, mouth drawing into a flat line, sharp as the blade that seeks to slot between your ribs and remind you of your failures.

“I know.” You're begrudging, words barely audible behind your cage of teeth. They're coloured black and blue from an internal assault that drips saltwater into your lungs and has emotion sloshing over the edges like a too-full cup.

He should let it go. Your relationship isn’t the kind where he can ask these sort of things still - and yet he does. Wants to know for reasons he’s not quite ready to face. “Why didn’t you?”

Your answer comes slowly, following a sip of your champagne. Like a good third of the room, you’d guessed wrong.

“We’d just met. I didn’t want to bring it up and make it seem like I expected anything.”

Jungkook has to bite back a laugh because your reasoning is so very you it hurts. “Telling someone it’s your birthday isn’t a bad thing, Jiyeon-ah.” The shrug that rolls over your shoulders and tucks your chin against your chest would indicate otherwise.

He can’t help but sigh and turn his gaze to the next person, carefully choosing his words as he does his next answer.

(It was definitely three. There was no way she’d never had a boyfriend.)

“Imagine if you were in his shoes,” he reasons, finally allowing his eyes to flit back to your face. You’re focused on some point at your feet, not meeting his stare. “Honestly, neither of you are in the wrong. The fact that it’s coming out here, among a bunch of strangers, probably sucks, though.”

You won’t look at him but he can tell you’re listening, sees it in the telltale flex of your jaw and pursing of your mouth.

“Anyway, you should talk to him later. Explain yourself. He’ll appreciate that.”

“I know,” you say in a small voice that tugs at his heartstrings.

Right then and there, he wants to tell you everything you want to hear – lace together stories of happier days and stronger bonds. But it hurts a little, too, so he doesn’t.

He might want those things for you but he wants them with him.

“You got that wrong.” You choose to break the silence with a teasing prod, single digit digging into the taut line of his side. He blinks at you, surprised by the abrupt change in your mood. He knows it’s a façade – can practically see the mask lining your skin and fading into the strands at your temple. You’re holding yourself a little too tightly, the jab a touch too hard to be relaxed.

He takes the shot-sized swig without complaint, all the while meeting your eyes over the mouth of the green glass bottle.

“Careful.” It’s less of a reprimand than a gentle reminder, uttered quietly into the shell of your ear. Even at such a close proximity, it feels far away, shrouded in cotton balls and sugar dust.

You take a second to collect your thoughts, momentarily surprised by the weight of your tongue. You mull over this newfound sensation as it drags in your mouth, swipes lewdly over your bottom lip. “’m fine.” It comes out sounding anything but, vaguely slurred and off-kilter. Still, you push yourself straight – hands steadied against warmth that sears into your palms and flexes with the movement.

That’s not right.

You blink owlishly, eyes tracking movement much slower than you’d intended, and you find yourself drawn into the blinding glory of a smile. It’s amused, lips drawn wide around laughter that sinks into your eardrums and settles like feathers, further buffering the words that slip out in between each breath.

“You’re drunk.” Jungkook sounds terribly entertained when you settle back down, temporarily forgetting your earlier decision to stand up. You were too comfortable, caught between his solid form and the seat cushions.

“I’m not drunk!” And you’re not. A bit tipsy, perhaps. There’s a pleasant glow at the edges of your vision, heat warming you from the inside out as if there’s fire and brimstone in your chest. Sure, things might be moving a bit too slowly – or too quickly, depending on the moment – for your liking but it’s not enough to make you feel sick. It’s just vertigo when you move. You’d be fine.

Another laugh, softer this time, for your sake. He can see the petulance in your stare, the way you huff dramatically as you all but toss yourself against the back of the couch. It’s so dangerous when you’re this close and so beguiling. “Fine, you’re not drunk,” he agrees in a voice that isn’t very believable. “But you are something.”

“Yeah, she is.” A new voice – a familiar voice, you think. Your head swivels, searching for the sound, and lands with a dull thud on the man towering over your shoulder, handsome face scrutinising your own.

“Kim Taehyung!” The excitement forces its way out, spreading like honey over your lips and teeth and coating the words. You’re vibrating with delight, entire body shifting to hold yourself over the back of the couch. The movements aren’t nearly as smooth as you’d hoped, your knee knocking harshly into Jungkook’s hip, but you find your way there. “Where’ve you been?”

If he’s annoyed, he doesn’t show it, boxy smile tugging his mouth into the shape with ease. He’s got a hand on the side of your face, fingers threading into the downy softness at your nape. “You fell asleep on poor Jungkookie.”

The realization is unpleasant, shame climbing the column of your spine and settling comfortably into the hollow of your throat.

“I did what?” You think you might’ve screeched the words if you weren’t on the edge of inebriation, embarrassment painting your face in shades of scarlet and roses. It blooms beneath your cheeks and sinks into every other visible part of you, tipping your ears and nose brightly.

“Yeah, you’re really bad at calling people on their bullshit.” The broad figure beside you has the smuggest expression on his face. If you hadn’t just used him as your own personal pillow, you might’ve smacked it off.

As it stands, that’s probably not the best way to say thank you.

“I thought I was doing fine.” There’s that competitive edge, mirrored between your brows and in your words.

“You were,” your boyfriend reassures, quick to placate you. “But you don’t know many people so I think halfway through the first round, it kind of just went downhill.” You appreciate that he’s trying to make you feel better, softening the blow with his sweet smile and sweeter words.

“Then how come you’re fine?” You demand like it’s a personal affront.

“I don’t drink, remember?”

Okay, fair. “And what about you?” You’ve rounded on Jungkook, finger pressed into the centre of his chest, right over his solar plex.

“I’m not a lightweight.” He’s the opposite of Taehyung – completely okay with obliterating your ego, if only because you’re not not-drunk and anything he says won’t be remembered anyway. That, and it’s just too funny to see you all riled up, inhaling sharply as if to rebuff his words.

You look comical as your hands fly to your hips. It’s less so when you teeter in your half-reclined position, feet unsteady beneath your folded weight as you dare to tip back an inch too far.

Jungkook’s immediately reaching out, palm pressed to the small of your back to prevent you from toppling over, and Taehyung’s hand on your shoulder is gripping you tightly.

“Watch it!” Spoken in unison and shared with a look.

If you weren’t so grateful, you’d groan and tell them to get a room. “Okay, okay!” With their respective touches anchoring you in place, your hands fly up in surrender, held aloft in front of your face like some sort of white flag. “I’ll take it easy.”

“We should actually probably head home.” The words have you focusing hard, fuzzy attention turning to take stock of your surroundings. Most people – though there seem to be far less of them than when you’d less counted - seem to be edging toward the main foyer, ushered into the night by the gracious goodbyes of the hosts.

“What time is it?” You ask in the same instance you’re rising, feet landing on solid ground unsteadily. You wave off the hands that dart towards you, a bashful frown stirring across our chapped lips.

“Just after midnight.” Taehyung as he rounds the couch to you, fingers finding yours with ease before he tugs you close against his side. You’re not sure whether it’s for your benefit or his but you sink easily into him, head settling against his shoulder.

You try to ignore the way the third in your party turns away, hands jamming into the pouch of his hooded sweatshirt. He remains steadfastly removed when he speaks, though he’s soft, polite. “I’m going to see if I can help clean up.”

If his change of demeanour is evident at all, Taehyung gives no indication, simply reaching out to clap his friend on the shoulder. “We’ll see you, then.”

“Get home safely, Kook.” The words are barely out before you’re being led away.

You don’t miss how he turns at the last second, the same wistfulness you feel reflected in the quiet of his eyes.

You could very easily fall asleep like this, coaxed into dreamland by his touch. It feels so good, so soothing, traced into the length of your side and over any exposed skin he can find. You think he’s depositing sleeping powder with his lazy scrawl, inscribing everything left unspoken in the circular movements and sloping edges.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” he hums happily into your neck, ignoring the way the hair there tickles his nose and gets into his eyes. He doesn’t mind these little things when he’s locked up in this piece of paradise.

“Thank you for inviting me.” You’re just as earnest, filled with all the eagerness of a budding relationship and untarnished by time.

Still, there are things you have to say. Things you want to apologize for, even if they seem miles away now.

“I’m sorry about the…” Careful, you think. You want to express yourself clearly, paint a picture that makes sense for both of you. Something real and true, despite your love for the abstract. You begin again. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my birthday and I’m sorry if that made it seem like I didn’t want to celebrate with you.” The usual rushed nature of your speech is decidedly lacking, instead lulled into a prudently composed apology. “We’d only known each other for a few days, and I didn’t want it to feel like an obligation.”

You don’t mention how the day had still felt been a dream because you’d spent it with him and that was all you could’ve asked for.

Against your shoulder, you feel his chin and the clear movement of his nod.

“I wasn’t mad,” he reassures with a sweep of his lips, meagre over cotton. “I felt silly—” You don’t deserve him and his honesty, how he bares himself up to you as if it’s the easiest task in the world. “—but I wasn’t angry and I didn’t mean to make it seem like it was.”

Your heart sings in your chest, a robin’s song that has you turning in his arms. It’s a little awkward, first untangling your legs and then hooking your knee over his hip, but it feels necessary. A physical token of how much you want him as you breathe life into the same verbal reminder.

“You know you’re too good at this.” Not that you’re complaining – not that you don’t love the openness with which he holds himself to you, laid plain for your prying eyes.

“Too good at what?” The question comes with a gift in the form of his signature smile. It follows with a suggestive roll of his hips.

You can’t help but laugh, depositing the sound against his bare chest. “Communicating, you animal!” The insult is anything but reproachful, instead dangling smugly over an almost wanton intonation. “You’re never afraid to say what’s on your mind.”

He’s got you held against him like he might swallow you whole and you don’t mind, finding peace in his warmth and softness.

“I just think if you never express how you feel, you’re never going to be able to get past it.” You want to liken him to some sage philosopher, the comparison growing stronger when he hums thoughtfully, gaze lost somewhere above your heads. “And I owe it to you to try, so it’s easier. I want this to work.”

Staring up into his face, memorizing the way his cheeks swell with his smile and his dark lashes frame eyes that crescent into pretty little moons, you understand.

“Me too,” you breathe, pressing a sugar sweet kiss to his bared throat.

You don’t miss the way he tenses around you before relaxing all at once, enveloping you with every part of him. His breath is hot in your hair, his hands familiar around your waist. You’re not sure whether you feel it in your lips or toes when he kisses you but you know it runs through every inch of you like a sugar rush.

It’s him that’s prompting you to drag yourself closer – if that’s even possible – and it’s him that’s got you seeking his taste, dragging your tongue over his bottom lip in some sort of bid for entry.

“Who’s the animal now?” Despite the playfulness in his tone, you can hear the creep of something else. Hunger, need – all the same things painting your breaths.

“Still you.” You murmur in between kisses that edge on sloppy, overly eager as they are. “But I can be, too.” A sharp tug at his bottom lip, edge of teeth sharp around the soft petal. “Not mutually exclusive, you know?” You don’t know how you’re finding words when all you want is him. It’s hard to be coherent around the Taehyung-shaped distraction your mouth is roaming across.

“You’re feisty when you’re drunk,” he quips, breathless against your crown when you descend further than the tantalizing slope of his neck, mouthing over the bare expanse of his honeyed chest.

The comment has you nipping gently, just enough to bloom crimson where your teeth have left little indents. “I’m not drunk.” Three words spoken more concisely than you have all night, driven to enunciation by sheer unabashed need.

“I’m kidding.” It’s less of an apology and more of a purr, stoking the coals that burn heavily in the pit of your stomach.

You’re tempted to remind him of his hubris once again but are rudely stopped by firm hands that rearrange you onto your back like you’re nothing but a ragdoll. By the way you huff, he knows you’re more than that – a girl with a beating heart and needs.

Forearms form a cage on either side of your head, and he lingers for but a moment, only long enough to catch you in a sweet, all-encompassing kiss that has your head spinning. You’re gasping when he withdraws, pitifully inclined to chase him when he slides further down your prone form, settling on his knees between your legs.

It’s a beautiful sight – better than the Mona Lisa or David or any of the greats.

His palm is soft on the swell of your hip, fingers tucking beneath the flimsy lace that nestles against your skin. He continues to feel the patterns that run through the material, smoothing it once, twice, before dragging it lower and lower in marginal increments. You feel like you might explode when it’s caught halfway down your thighs, stuck between his knee and complete freedom.

“Raise your legs, jagi.” The request shoots electricity up your spine. You don’t even have to think twice, doing exactly as you’re told, ankles brought parallel with your hips.

The scrap of fabric is gone then, loftily tossed across the room without a second thought.

You almost laugh, the sound bubbling forth but replaced by a keening moan when he sinks two fingers into you. Without time to adjust to the sudden intrusion, the burn is incredible, softened only by the slick that coats your thighs and drips over his fingers. He stretches you lazily, with slow measured pumps of his wrist; somehow, you’re already standing on the edge of a precipice, bliss calling your name from the abyss below.

He must see it in your face, framed between your pretty thighs that spread for him, calves resting heavily on his broad shoulders. “You’re so wet.” You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on by his voice, the way the velvet depths fill your ears with a melody. They play over the chords of your heart like practiced hands. “So ready and beautiful.”

The realization is fully formed with his words. You are ready.

It’s an epiphany and Taehyung – darling Taehyung – gives you exactly what you want. He adds a third finger with the utmost care, angled in such a way that he can brush the pad of his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. He ghosts a kiss over your calf, words disappearing against your skin. “Where are the condoms?”

You can’t even bring yourself to feel shame as you gesture wildly toward your side table. It’s just out of range for you but he closes the distance easily, his much longer reach allowing him to dip into the confines of the drawer.

Seeing the packet in his slender, capable fingers has your pulse speeding up, a nervous flush colouring your entire body. You know it isn’t unease that has you quivering, a bow strung too tightly beneath him.

“Please, Tae,” you can’t help the way you sound when he withdraws his fingers and - god have mercy on your poor soul - sucks the digits into his mouth. Glistening with your arousal, they disappear between pouting lips and return pristinely clean.

“Yes, jagi?”

He’s teasing you, taking his time in tugging his boxers off. You think you’d be mad if he weren’t so flawless, golden perfection sat bare before you. When you don’t respond, he takes his time in tearing the corner of the package and discarding same off the side of the bed. His movements are excruciating as he pinches the tip and rolls the condom over the leaking swollen head of his cock.

“What do you need?” The way he winds you up should be illegal, as should his expression when he drops back onto the bed, settling between your bent knees. There’s only darkness in his eyes, the entire ring of hazel engulfed by pupils that threaten to devour you.

You reach for him, a child seeking the thing they love most. You half expect him to draw away and giddily coo when he leans into your hands, allows his angelic face to be cradled between your palms.

“You. I want you.” No, that’s not quite right. “I need you.”

You think you might’ve given him the great gift in the world when he beams, shattering every wall of yours and sweeping shadows from your insides. He’s glorious sunshine, consuming warmth that pervades every inch. Sliding forward, his arm falls into place at the side of your face, delicate touch drifting through the silk of your hair. “Tell me how badly.” He asks so sweetly, you can’t deny him.

“So badly. Like I haven’t needed anything before.” Perhaps loose lips could sink ships, but you think they might also find buried treasure. You’re certain of it when you pull him to you, his frame fitting snugly against yours - a missing puzzle piece.

You feel him, heavy and hot between your legs. The way he rocks against you has you pawing at his chest, hands falling from his cherubic face. He rocks himself forward experimentally, enticed by the ease with which his straining cock glides through your folds, never delivering in the promise you so terribly need fulfilled.

“Tae,” you whine, features twisted into a picture of anguish as he catches your clit and then disappears. He doesn’t move again, instead studying your face as if he might find the answers to all of life’s questions buried in your smile, the lashes that flutter up at him.

“I’ve got you.” He does – hook, line, and sinker.

And then he pushes into you with one fluid flex of his hips. He fits into you like you were made for him, your aching walls drawing him deeper and deeper until he’s bottomed out and snuggled between your legs. You immediately lock your ankles around him, heels digging into his back in a bid to bring him closer.

It takes herculean effort to not fuck you until you’re seeing stars but Taehyung’s reward is the way you look.

He wants to imprint it into his memory forever. The way your mouth falls open, lips parted around his name like a prayer. How your back arches and he wants to bury his face into your cleavage.

“So beautiful, Jiyeon.” He finds you somehow, driven by the insatiable need to swallow your moans off your tongue. He sets a leisurely pace that has him drawing out slowly to admire every drag of you around his cock and you whine each time he nearly fully withdraws before thrusting back into you with a heart-wrenching smile. He loves the way you sound, all needy and breathless. “You feel so good,” he murmurs against your mouth, tongue dragging lasciviously over the corner where your own lolls. “Taste so good, too.”

In true fashion, you’re filled with delight at the praise, raising your hips to meet each measured, tantalizing roll of his. “Please, Tae. Please.” You’re not sure what you’re asking for, only that you need more. There’s a molten lava burning through you, swallowing everything in its sight, but it isn’t enough.

“Please what?” He’s straightening above you and reclining, dragging your legs from around him until they’re resting in the crook of each elbow. It’s a powerful position that has him admiring every curve of your body, his cock twitching as he smoothly pushes into you again. He can feel your need like an onerous wave but he’s feeling playful.

“Fuck me!” It explodes out of your mouth, wrenched forth by the teasing he’s been doling out.

“But I am,” he sounds almost dejected when he says that and your eyes snap open only to be greeted by his too-smug grin. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Two can play that game. “Well, then do better.”

That’s what pushes him to your figurative level, dragging him to hell. He grips your hips in his hands and tugs you forward with little care, burying himself to the hilt with a sharp breath. You quake with the sudden aggression and mewl with delight when he begins ramming into you with purpose, meeting his each and every thrust eagerly.

This is what you needed – to be consumed wholly, in no half measures.

“Oh, Tae.” His name barely makes it into the air when it’s snapped back with a gasp. The pad of his thumb is sweeping over your clit in time with each of his thrusts. It’s insistent, near punishing, as he pistons into you.

He's no longer Cupid playing a harp, drawing you slowly but surely to the edge; he's Lucifer in a mad descent toward Earth and you're caught in his wings. The knowledge that he's there at the edge with you, fingers laced with yours as he dives toward release, has you clenching around him. Fingers seek purchase anywhere you can find it. First down his back, carving mountain ranges over muscle, and then into his inky strands, tugging with abandon. You're so close you can feel it, a sob wrenched forth when he shifts and the new angle has him dragging over your g-spot with each thrust.

Between the pitching moans and your fluttering walls, he's free-falling, entire body vibrating with tension. He snaps forward with a wrecked grunt, signalling his impending doom. "Come with me, jagi. Please." His hips stutter, his motions uncoordinated and sloppy as he chases his end.

When Taehyung's lips find yours once again, your own name returned to you with aching adoration, you join him.

White paints your vision and the inside of latex and you're unravelling, held only to the physical plane by arms that soothe over every part they can touch. Over your thighs, across your hips, up and back over the swell of your heaving chest. Even half-wrecked and fumbling, he's an angel, taking care of you like it's his job. He guides sweet nothings into the shell of your ear, his tongue laving hotly over your neck, as he slows his thrusts, finally coming to a sated standstill.

"Are you okay?" With the fucked out look in his eyes and the way he gingerly extracts himself from your arms, pressing kisses to every salt-sweet part of you as he goes, he's divine. Even the very mundane task of knotting the condom and tossing it into the trashcan beside your bed is somehow ethereal. You don't think you'll get over it.

"One hundred percent."

notes. a small part of me was like, "why is there so much debauchery?" but then i thought, "why not."

anyway, the next chapter will explore her and jungkook's relationship through flashbacks, as well as some good ol' bro bonding and other goodness.

thank you for reading, as always! xo

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sykilik101 · 4 years

Text

Colloyd Week Day 4: Unison Attack

“No, that doesn’t work, either…”

Beads of sweat inched down Lloyd’s face, his breathing labored as he gripped his swords. Next to him, Colette panted as she sat on the ground, her chakrams at her side. He tilted his head back, closing his eyes and exhaling in an attempt to alleviate his growing annoyance.

Whenever Genis and Raine discussed anything, more often than not Lloyd tuned them out, keenly aware that he likely wasn’t going to understand a word they were saying. However, it was in battle where he paid extra attention, focused intently on how the two were able to combine their attacks together when they fought. As time had gone on their ability to fight together only improved, and while it was an asset to the group it left Lloyd wondering if he could do the same with Colette.

The last hour had been spent working on how they could improve their teamwork, but so far they’d found nothing that could compete with the quality the Sage siblings possessed. Must be a brother/sister thing, he mused as he wiped at his forehead. Realistically, there wasn’t much they could do together as far as combination attacks. She wasn’t a swordsman, and he didn’t know the first thing about wielding a chakram.

“Lloyd, I don’t know if this is going to work.”

He looked down at her, watching her face pout as she pulled a cup of water away from her lips. She’d been trying just as hard as he was, which meant she probably also felt the same frustration he did. “We can’t give up now. There has to be something we haven’t tried yet!”

Colette didn’t respond, instead turning her gaze to her mug. She ran her thumb along the rim, lost in thought. With a sigh Lloyd sheathed his swords, resting his hands on his hips. He tapped his foot against the dirt, trying to think of something, anything. It would be possible if either had access to magic like the rest of their partners, but as of right now there was nothing that-

“Oh!”

Colette’s voice jolted him out of his concentration, a look of shock and awe decorating her features. “Lloyd, what if you used my hammers?”

He cocked his head. “Hammers?” Realization. “Oh, right, you can summon hammers, huh? It’s too bad I’m already holding two swords.”

“Oh, yeah.” Sheepishness blended with her exhaustion, fiddling with the tips of her hair. “I guess you can’t hold your swords and a hammer at the same time, huh?”

The same time?

Lloyd held his hand under his chin, the gears in his mind starting to whir. It wouldn’t make sense to drop a sword, grab a hammer, attack with it, then go back for his sword, and Colette also had her hands full, so she couldn’t hold his sword. He knew that Colette’s hammers disappeared soon after she summoned them, and it’s not like he’d want to put down his swords just to-

They disappear.

His eyes widened, an idea flickering in his mind. “Colette, how do you summon your hammers?”

“Mm?” she hummed, having just taken another drink of water. She pressed her finger to her chin, tilting her head to the side. “I’m not really sure. I just think that I wanna throw a hammer, then I kinda whoosh and then they appear.”

Lloyd arched an eyebrow. “Uh...whoosh?”

“Uh-huh. I can’t really explain it, but it works!”

He grinned, endeared by Colette’s mannerisms. “Can you make the hammers replace stuff instead of just appearing out of thin air?”

“What do you mean?”

Thinking that a visual would make this easier to explain, he pulled one of his swords out, holding it up. “Instead of just summoning one, see if you can replace this sword with a hammer.”

“Oh, I get it!” She stood up, taking her chakrams in hand with a determined grin. “I’ll give it a shot.” Her eyes glued themselves to his sword, her fingers tightening around the chakram handles. She took a short breath, then thrust her hand into the air. “Ha!”

Suddenly his blade glowed with a bright light, and when it dissolved he found himself holding one of her hammers. Excitement and possibility bubbled in his stomach. “Colette, you did it!”

Her smile was a mile wide. “That was a great idea, Lloyd!”

He examined it further, moving and twisting it in his hand. “It’s strange, it actually still feels like I’m holding my sword. I wonder...” He turned his gaze over to a small boulder a few meters away. Tightening his grip he leapt towards it, bringing the hammer down with all the strength he could muster. He expected that he’d leave a dent in it, or, if he was being optimistic, crack it in two; he wasn’t ready for the boulder to suddenly explode into a pile of rubble and dust.

“Wow, Lloyd, you’re so strong!”

He almost didn’t register her voice, still in awe as he admired the hammer in his hand. “Honestly, I don’t think it was me. I wonder if it’s the strength of my sword and your hammer together.” As if on cue the hammer began to glow, and a moment later his sword was back in his hand. In the sword’s reflection was an enormous grin, one that was aimed at Colette. “But now we have an attack we can do together!”

He expected to have his elation reciprocated, so it was a shock when he was met not with glee, but concern. “I don’t know if it would be safe for you to be waiting for me to make the hammer appear, and staying still in a fight might be dangerous.”

Lloyd rubbed at his chin, pondering the next step of their attack. “Hm. Well, what if you tried doing it while I’m in the middle of an attack?” Unsheathing his second sword he aimed the first at a thin tree a few close by. “I’ll swing once at that tree to cut it. See if you can change these into hammers before I swing again.”

She nodded. “I’ll give it a try.”

He returned the gesture before turning to the tree. Worst case scenario, the tree would be chopped twice. Best case, the ground would be covered in splinters and shards of wood. Realistically, there wasn’t any harm done if they failed, but deep down, something inside him really wanted this to work. Partly because having a new attack to use would be great, but mainly, achieving something together with Colette was an idea that warmed his heart.

Turning his thoughts back to the tree, he tightened his hold on his swords. In his mind’s eye, he saw another monster before him, one ready to attack him and his party. A small breeze drifted by, and it acted as his cue to leap forward, pulling his swords to the side. In one swing he sliced through the tree, and off its balance it slowly began to fall.

“Ha!”

Colette’s voice rang through his ears, and he turned his hands to swing in the opposite direction. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the scintillating gleam of her magic, and without looking he grinned and swung at the falling half of the tree. The sound of splintered wood cracked the air as his hammers crashed into it, obliterating it and sending what little shards survived through the air.

Lloyd stood frozen, still in awe of the destruction of the tree. He eased his gaze back to the hammers, entranced at the way they glimmered before reverting back to his normal swords. He blinked once, then twice, then turned to find Colette wearing a surprised look that was on the cusp of joy. Their grins crawled up their cheeks at the same time, and he was sure her heart had skipped just as his had.

“We did it!”

In a moment of unfiltered delight he let his swords fall to the ground, rushing towards her with his arms outstretched. She matched his energy and jumped into him, and he pulled her close before spinning her in excited circles. It took him a few seconds to realize their level of intimacy, but a jolt back to reality eased his rotations, setting her down as the exertion and his exhilaration left him short on breath.

“Sorry about that.”

Colette shook her head with a flushed smile. “It’s okay.” She bit her lip before her grin grew. “I’m really happy we have an attack we can do together.”

Bliss coursed through him, but a sudden through pierced through the euphoria. “Oh, we should probably think of finding something you can do, too. It wouldn’t be fair if we only found something that only I can really use.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m already happy just being able to help you, really.”

The sparkle in his eyes gave away her sincerity, and he scratched at the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, if you’re sure. How about you and I practice this some more?” He walked over and retrieved his swords, looking back at the giddiness on her face.

“Okay!”

xxxxx

While not as romantic as the other prompts, this one was actually a lot of fun to do; I kinda wanted more of a “early in their journey” vibe to it, actually, where the early seeds of feelings were there, but nothing had really sprouted yet. This prompt was hardest to decide an idea on, but once I had the idea, it was the easiest to write, funny enough.

#colloyd #colloydweek #colloydweek2020 #lloyd irving #colette brunel #tales of series #tales of symphonia #fanfiction #fanfic

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undinefin · 6 years

Text

Gold - BNHA/MHA

hjdsfjsd hello i make slow progress. you might notice some differences in names/text etc. i'm trying to work on consistency and will be switching that stuff around. please bear with me! Genre: fantasy Ships: kirishima x bakugou Word Count: 5283 Author: @undinefin

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As it turned out, living with a cripple-three-hundred-or-some-year-old dragon was a lot harder than Bakugou anticipated. Kirishima’s injury only required some proper rest, and then he’d be ready to fly again. This meant that Bakugou was just housing the dragon for the time being, and wasn’t gathering herbs or killing unicorns for their blood to save the dragon from an untimely death; thus making the beast forever in his debt, as he had hoped.

He wanted to actually do something instead of just wait for the wing to heal itself.

“Because you care for me~” Kirishima had insisted.

“No because your fat dragon ass takes up a lot of space and has been attracting shit to my glade,” the boy had snapped.

It was true that Kirishima’s large mass and spewing fire did draw attention to the land. Various nymphs, animals, and other creatures had been stopping by to gaze upon the beast, though were chased away by Bakugou. He disliked the amount of beings that were treading onto his territory.

“Well some human child has a dirty mouth now doesn’t he.” The dragon gave a face of false heartache.

Bakugou scowled but didn't counter the provocation, instead he busied himself packing a bag. Kirishima lazily lowered his head to the ground, the tip of his snout about the same height as Bakugou when lying down.

“What’re ya doing?” he asked.

Bakugou fumbled around with some objects, picking up a small pouch of what Kirishima assumed held Nik. Upon peering into the bag, he scowled. “I’m going into town. Because of all the damn monsters my bare strength and reputation-”

Kirishima snorted, “Reputation.”

“Fuck off, my reputation isn’t gonna keep them out. Someone broke my sword.”

“Sorry...” the dragon mumbled. His low voice rattled the items on the wooden table. Every time Kirishima got too rowdy, Bakugou worried that the feeble thing would just collapse from the vibrations Kirishima caused. He built the table himself a few years ago, after he had lost a few items in the grass, and they had been either stolen by crows, or destroyed by the elements.

“Seriously, how did you manage to fuck up that bad? What didja say you did? Drop it?” Bakugou picked through a few pelts, claws, and wild herbs. He put a portion of each in the bag, and then collected the rest to take back into his hut.

“I uh... yeah...” Kirishima made a face that Bakugou had become extremely familiar with. The boy called it his ‘I wanna say something but don’t wanna disturb you’ face.

“You?”

Kirishima coughed, “I accidentally launched it into a stone.”

Bakugou dropped the items onto the ground, “Wait what!? How the fuck do you just accidentally launch something into a stone!?”

“Y’know you left it like, balancing on my tail for some reason, which I raised so then it slid down, and I thought it was some bug, or bird, so I naturally just flicked my tail.” Kirishima mimicked the movement with his tail. “But since I’m a dragon and I’m a lot bigger than a sword, it went pretty far pretty fast and it, uh...ended up getting smashed against a big rock and snapped in half.”

Bakugou looked less than impressed. He punched the dragon, but the beast obviously felt nothing. “Fucking try that again and I’ll kill ya. I’m not made of money or sit on a pile of gold with my dragon ass,” he grumbled.

Kirishima huffed, “Sorry man, I’ll try not to. But y’know, even I don’t have a pile of gold.” his hot breath sending a small gust of wind Bakugou’s way. The boy almost looked disappointed but decided not to continue the conversation. Instead, he picked up a few materials and took them inside his hut.

The hut in the middle of the glade was partially built by Bakugou too. He had the guidance of a passing entourage who worked for a lord he did not know. They helped him put together the roof, stabilize the structure, and for the price of a few Jackalope, they gave him some padding for a bed.

He did his best to keep his food and materials organized. When he was eleven he’d bought a chest for the valuable things, and a year later he began digging under the ground to make a basement for storing food. Bakugou usually ate what he caught sooner rather than later – fresh meat was always the most delicious – but for fruits or even certain materials, having a cellar was useful when it came to trading.

“Is town fun?” Kirishima asked simply.

Bakugou’s right eye narrowed, as it always did when he was confused. “...fun?”

“Yeah! ‘Cuz I heard there’s a lot of people and festivals, and there’s taverns!” His golden eyes flickered, flashes of red dancing within. The dragon raised his head slowly, pushing himself onto his front legs.

The boy scowled, “We’re not old enough to drink.”

“What!? There’s an age restriction!?”

“Yeah, dumbass.”

Kirishima regained the little composure he had. “Well,” he started, “I’m sure I pass the age limit.” A corner of his mouth raised, revealing a line of sharp teeth. The dragon was over three hundred years old after all.

“Hah, you need a proper license even if you wanted to drink,” Bakugou sneered.

The dragon looked rather upset by the statement. “And you aren’t old enough either? I thought the age was like...” He traced out the numbers with his claw. “It was...one...six?”

“Sixteen?”

“Sure.”

“Well for one, the drinking age is twenty,” he noticed the confused look on Kirishima’s face. “One-nine,” Bakugou said quickly. The dragon stilled for a moment before nodding in understanding. “And I’m not twenty. Second, do you...not know how to say numbers?”

Kirishima shook his head, “Dragons don’t have a need for numbers. I can only count up to ten because I wanted to learn.”

“But you could say three hundred,” Bakugou pointed out. He took out his cape, threw it over his shoulders, and tied the string at his neck to keep it on. The fur was only at the top of the cape, intended to only warm the neck. It rested well on his shoulders, not heavy but still comforting.

Kirishima stuck his nose up, as he always seemed to when he was thinking about something. “Well hundred is easy, you just put the first number in front and then say ‘hundred.’”

Bakugou supposed that was reasonable. He began to walk towards the edge of the glade, finally ready to leave town. Though, the dragon was so large thatit’d took a while to walk past him. “Can you read?” he asked.

“Nope, except for the first ten numbers,” Kirishima replied. His neck was craned around so he was looking the same direction as Bakugou. “Can you?”

“I taught myself how to read and write a while ago. I needed to cuz of the rewards and crap on the Job Board so I just spent a shit ton of time in the bookstore,” he said casually.

“Woah! You seriously taught yourself that stuff? Wasn’t it hard?” the dragon asked in awe.

Bakugou stopped walking away and turned back towards Kirishima. “I mean it wasn’t super easy or anything but I taught myself yeah, why? You wanna learn?” The dragon didn’t move, as if he’d been doing something wrong. He made no verbal or physical response, but his eyes were glinting.

“I’ll teach you then,” Bakugou declared. He turned on his heel and quickly made his way to the edge of the glade, not looking back at the dragon.

Kirishima was always red, it was the colour of his scales, and yet somehow, he felt himself going even more red from that.

***

The town was always bustling with people. Bakugou assumed that it felt so clamped because he was used to the open glade, and the quiet forest. He kept getting jolted from side to side, and he was constantly paranoid someone would steal his stuff. Though, even if they did he could just obliterate them and retrieve it.

Some people recognized Bakugou when he got to the central market. A few of the older folk said hello, to which he begrudgingly replied, though the younger ones seemed to steer clear of him. That reaction may or may not’ve been the result of a few brawls which he brutally won.

The market was the most colourful place in Charnom, with each stall having its own tarps of blues, reds, and greens above them to stay in the shade. Whenever a festival or event was going on – which was nearly all the time – they’d string banners from one stall to the next, all sparkling and glittery in the sunlight. A part of the market dipped into a cavern that was at the base of the North Mountains, where Charnom was located. Inside was a natural spring that was used as an onsen, and a hotel for visitors.

Charnom was originally an outpost for people going to Fulmen. It only had a few lodgings and a restaurant or two. When a new ravine was found within the North Mountains, traffic to Fulmen grew and as a result, Charnom grew with it and eventually into a full town. Now, it was a huge trading post and popular tourist spot for many foreigners.

Bakugou stopped at a clothing stall. “I brought ‘em like promised,” he said roughly. He reached into his bag and pulled out the furs of various creatures, mostly deer.

“Oh you’re a few days early! As always Bakugou-kun,” the merchant smiled. He took the pelts and placed them within the small stall. While he did that, a set of eyes peered over the counter, the child barely tall enough to see.

“Ya got a runt now?” Bakugou called.

The merchant only laughed, “He’s my sister’s. I’m just taking care of him for a while.”

“Your eyes are scary mister,” the child said factually.

Bakugou cocked his head to the side. “That so? Then why ya lookin’ at me?”

“Why don’t you wear a shirt?” the child asked instead of responding.

“Because I don’t need to.”

“Your nipples are showing mister. Don’t they get cold?” Something about the kid pissed Bakugou off. Maybe it was because he was asking the questions so genuinely, and Bakugou didn’t really have a proper response.

“Shirts are for losers,” he finally said. If the brat was any older, Bakugou would’ve punch him already.

“But you’ll get cold in the winter!” the child insisted.

Rolling his eyes, Bakugou decided not to humour the kid anymore. Instead his replies consisted of one-word responses as he waited to get the money for the pelts. He once almost responded with a ‘Because fuck you, that’s why’ but he remembered that the kid was maybe six years old, and his uncle was standing close by.

“He’s got a point you know, why don’t I add something to your cape at least?” the merchant offered.

“Don’t got the money for that,” Bakugou responded almost immediately.

“I’ll do it on the house! Just make sure you give me a few extra furs next time,” the man winked.

Bakugou stood to consider the offer. “How long will it take?”

“Are you going back home today?”

“I plan to.”

The man smiled gently, “I’ll be finished by dusk, you can pick it up then.”

Bakugou took off the cape that was draped around his shoulders. It was only when he saw the cloth in the merchant’s hands that he noticed how torn it had gotten in the past few weeks since buying it. The child waved goodbye, noting how odd it looked that Bakugou was now walking around with absolutely nothing on his upper half, save for the blue werecat claw necklace.

He continued making exchanges at other stalls, trading herbs or various fruits for Nik. He also purchased a short cutlass, though grumbled about his troublesome guest during the entire transaction. Eventually he made his way to the Job Board, which was posted in the centre of town. None of them seemed too interesting: a few missing animals, a delivery request, and a beast hunting quest.

Despite the rather uninteresting options, Bakugou decided to select the beast hunting. It’s true that manticores were starting to grow in population, he figured getting money for slaying the things anyways.

In Piece, most Job Boards worked in the same fashion. One’s license could load various privileges onto them, including Merchant, Adventuring, Casting, and Taming. The licenses all looked the same: they had a picture of the holder as well as their name and birthday.

With each privilege came a certain level, determining what they could do. For example, magic users would increase their level through exams held every season. The higher their level, the better spells they could use without repercussions. For them, the license acted as a barrier to ensure that they used their magic safely, and as a result it would cut off the user’s magic at various thresholds.

Bakugou only had Adventuring on his, which essentially allowed him to accept jobs from Job Boards and be guaranteed to the rewards posted. Though, Adventuring Licenses were expensive due to the fact that nearly anyone could apply for it. As a result, most parties only had one or two people registered.

He held up his license to the paper, and the card glowed a faint red. Pulling his hand away, a small mark was left on the sheet beside a few others. This mark indicated that Bakugou was taking on the job.

The boy continued through the town, still with plenty of time to spare. He eventually made is way to the bookstore. The building looked the same as the rest of the town. It was made mostly of stone, though the door frame was painted a deep green. Above the door was a wooden sign that read ‘Books – Live Another Life’ which was slowly wearing away.

“Bakugou-kun! Welcome,” the shop keeper exclaimed. He was an older man in his late forties. He had a Chevron moustache and wore glasses that seemed too large for his face. Bakugou, despite being sixteen, was much taller than the shop owner.

“Been a while, old man,” he replied.

“What brings you back here?” the shop keeper made his way to the front of the counter in order to greet one of his most loyal guests properly.

Bakugou noticed a few books were lying on the floor. He quickly picked them up and began walking the familiar shelves. “I’m gonna buy some books this time,” he answered, his voice muffled by the aisles.

“Oh? Last time you just spent your time here. Why take out books?”

“You are running a business here, y’know that?”

The old man laughed, “Of course, of course. But when a ten-year-old comes in saying they want to learn how to read, you can’t really force them to pay for anything. Especially when they take such good care of the books.” Bakugou, who was currently returning the forgotten books to the appropriate shelves, flushed and didn’t respond.

He continued to browse the shelf for easy books to read. Somehow the mental image of a massive dragon reading a tiny book was comical to him. Bakugou wondered if Kirishima would even be able to read the pages. They’d have to sort out writing as well. Bakugou figured his massive claw couldn’t hold quills easily.

“Well then, why are you buying them this time?” the shop keeper continued.

Bakugou stopped before answering. The old man was a good person, and if he somehow found out that Kirishima was a dragon, surely he could keep the secret but if something were to happen to the dragon, it would be on Bakugou’s hands.

Still, he didn’t have to give every detail away. “For a friend, he’s too lazy to come out here,” he responded simply.

“Oh? You do live quite far away if I remember correctly.”

Bakugou had no means of transportation, so it took about five hours on foot to reach Charnom. If he had a horse it’d take less than an hour, maybe longer if they slowed from a gallop. “Guess so,” he mumbled.

Bakugou decided that four books were enough for now. Kirishima didn’t strike him as extremely intelligent, so he figured it would take at least a month to finish all of them.

The old man instantly knew the prices of the books and quickly calculated Bakugou’s total of 24 Nik. The old man babbled aimlessly, sharing random news or gossip that was circulating around town. Bakugou nodded occasionally, not really listening.

“I hope to see you soon, Bakugou-kun!” he said as Bakugou turned to leave the shop. “Bring your friend next time!”

Not turning around, Bakugou snickered. He laughed at the thought, the big, red dragon wouldn’t fit in the store. His tail, legs, and head would break through the building, as though he was wearing it as a dress. “We’ll see about that one, old man.”

Bakugou stuffed the books into his bag and then struggled to close it completely. He had spent a fair amount of cash on the books. He hoped that Kirishima would learn from them well, he damn better.

The boy spent the remainder of time he had wandering the town. It was the only town he’d ever been to, others were too far away, or closer ones were unmarked on the maps he’d seen. As such, he was well acquainted with Charnom. Bakugou knew which jeweler was genuine, which was faking, which families were nice, what restaurants to go to, the backstreets, the shortcuts, and he was painstakingly familiar with the noble girls who would constantly frown upon his appearance. He didn’t give enough of a shit to ask them why, but was he really that hideous?

The thought bothered him. What bothered him even more was that he was bothered by his appearance. It was never something he cared about, probably because he’d never been surrounded by people that cared about it either, or people in general.

Bakugou pushed the thoughts aside. Whether or not he was ugly, it wasn’t like he was planning on picking up girls. He had a dragon to take care of for god’s sake! Shaking his head to physically cleanse his mind, he approached the same clothing stall he did earlier in the day.

“I’m almost finished here, just wait a few moments,” the merchant said as Bakugou came up to the counter. There was no sign of the kid, Bakugou figured he went home to eat supper. His entertainment absent, Bakugou merely fumbled with his new sword.

The merchant gently lifted the cape into the air, taking care to not stretch or strain the fabric as he transported it to the counter.

“The string fastens were fraying and pulling on the fur. Did you notice that the fur was thinning at the neck?”

Bakugou nodded, but truthfully, he never did notice.

“I added some straps to allow more movement, and to prevent further decay of the fur. The straps are made from special Lamia skin – molted of course, we don’t deal with farms – so they’ll be comfortable and sturdy.” The merchant handed Bakugou the cape.

The straps were attached to the cape underneath the fur. They were fashioned like a vest and didn’t touch the red fabric, allowing it to flow freely. The Lamia skin gave the straps a white x-stitch pattern that went all the way down the strap.

The merchant looked proudly upon his creation, “Does it fit?”

Bakugou slipped it on. The straps were light but sturdy, and didn’t reduce movement. “Perfectly. That’s kinda creepy.” Bakugou had never been measured by the merchant. “How do you know...”

“It’s yours to keep!” the merchant declared, ignoring the question. “I hope that it serves you well. Be careful on your way back!”

The boy nodded, and set down a few coins despite the improvements being on the house. He turned on his heel and flicked the cape back dramatically. The fabric flapped in the wind, showing off the cutlass at his left hip as he strode down the market path.

The sun slowly began to set. Bakugou resolved to speed up his walk home, making the most of the remaining sunlight.

***

To Bakugou and Kirishima’s surprise, they got through the first book in less than a week. Perhaps that was because they spent a minimum of four hours in the day trying to read, and also because Bakugou read most of it. Kirishima was still trying to memorize the basic characters but he was picking up on them quite well. The different scripts confused him, and the idea that there were hundreds of other languages that were also considered common blew his mind even more.

Kirishima had to admit that it was hard trying to read the small print, which made the learning experience considerably harder. As a result, Bakugou would usually sit in his claw which Kirishima would position near his face, and the boy would hold the book up for the dragon to see.

“’The woman cr....cried?’”

“Yeah.”

“’cried, her lover’s lif-eh-less-‘” Kirishima pronounced the silent letter.

“Lifeless,” Bakugou corrected.

“’lifeless body in her arms, growing cold. A single tear’-”

“You pronounced it t-aer, it’s like teer.”

Kirishima grumbled, hot air rushed past Bakugou’s ear. “That’s so confusing!”

Bakugou muffled a scream of frustration. “Man you really are slow. I’ve told you the stroke here,” he pointed to a small line on the right corner of the character, “determines how you pronounce the ‘e’ sound. Get your fuckin’ head in it.”

The dragon seemed to pout, “I’m doing my best!”

“Do you want me to finish the chapter?” Bakugou offered. Kirishima nodded, puffing out his cheeks in annoyance. “’A single tear slipped down her cheek,’” he exaggerated every word, making sure Kirishima could hear the pronunciation and see the characters clearly. “’The tear dropped onto his chest, and for a moment he was gone. Suddenly, a flash of gold filled the room, strands of the colour emerging from his chest and spreading around his body.

“’He was warm. With a gasp, he opened his eyes. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears as she stared lovingly at him. Cupping her face and stroking her now short brown hair, the man captured her lips. He felt the fire from her chee’– are you blushing!?” Bakugou cried.

The scales prevented any exterior changes in colour but instead, from the cracks of the scales shone an orange light.

“What the fuck!? Are...are you embarrassed from this cheesy bullshit? And why does your blood...glow?”

Kirishima stammered, “I...I mean I’ve never really experienced this sort of thing-”

“You are not a three-hundred-year-old-virgin, are you?” Bakugou interrupted.

The glow intensified. “Please don't call me a three-hundred-year-old-virign.”

“So you’ve-”

“This isn’t the topic of conversation!”

“Hah, loser,” Bakugou snorted.

“A-anyways! Next question, my blood glows ‘cuz well...okay so you know how different creatures use magic in different ways? Well for humans, you guys can store it but only for a bit. It goes in for a while then goes out, and you can only store so much. Of course, with time the amount you can store increases but still, ya can’t hold it for a long time or else it just seeps out and returns to whatever was holding it before.

“Well for dragons, since we live a lot longer, we’re able to store a lot more. It can stay in our bodies for years, and I guess at that point it sorta.... melds with our system?” Kirishima explained.

Bakugou blinked, “So you’re telling me that you have tons of magic basically flowing in your veins and that’s why your blood can glow?”

“I guess yeah. Maybe the colour is different for different kinds of dragons. I dunno, haven’t met too many others,” Kirishima mused.

“And it shines between your scales... does that mean the skin there is thin?” The dragon didn’t reply. He’d barely opened his mouth when Bakugou moved onto the next question. “So if I were to stick some sorta, I dunno, sword in there I could like slice you to pieces, right?”

Kirishima choked, “Well first, that’s terrifying to think about. Don’t slice me to pieces when I’m sleeping at night.”

“No promises.”

“But well... I guess you could though? I’ve never seen a blade thin enough to properly pierce through though. They usually have to crack the scales no matter what,” he answered properly.

The questions were rolling now, Bakugou’s curiosity taking over from whatever book they were reading. “What kind of dragon are you?”

“Fire of course!” The dragon let out a little flame from his mouth for demonstration. “I guess since the magic is stored in our like... organs or something it’s why we release it from our mouths,” Kirishima guessed. “Or noses, I’ve seen that before,” he added as an afterthought.

“Are you split into elements?” he continued his interrogation.

The dragon didn’t respond immediately. He stilled, as if working hard to think of the answer. “I wouldn’t really say that. It’s sorta like how you humans do it, what kind of magic or element do you like best, or which are you inclined to? Then you work towards improving that. If I wanted to, I could probably master another element like water or wind, but humans don’t have the time or vessels to do that, so they usually only focus on one.”

Bakugou hummed, “Interesting.” Kirishima noticed the gleam in his eye. The boy obviously loved dragons, he ate up every piece of information Kirishima gave him.

After their quick dragon-themed break, Bakugou began teaching Kirishima more characters. They decided to use an empty patch of dirt as the dragon’s writing pad, his claw the quill. Each stroke was shaky, and the characters were hardly legible, but for a dragon Bakugou deemed it acceptable.

When the sky darkened and it was too difficult to read or write, the two would wish each other goodnight. Bakugou would go into his hut and sleep on the bed. He hadn’t the faintest idea of where Kirishima went to sleep, but he assumed the dragon curled up nicely outside.

Some days they didn’t have the time to practice. Bakugou would go out to hunt or search for wild berries, or Kirishima would try to fly with his wing that was slowly recovering. Bakugou didn’t know what had torn the wing in the first place, but it seemed to be the only thing he couldn’t get out of the dragon.

By the end of the second book, Kirishima had mastered the first script he’d learned, and was well into learning the second one. The third book only took the them four days and was arguably the most interesting thus far. The dragon was obsessed with one of the characters who was, “So manly, and so cool!”

“Please, he’s got an awful backstory. He was the villain at one point!”

“Yeah but he’s cleaned himself up now. He’s doing his best as a man,” Kirishima’s voice cracked as he teared up.

They’d repeated this conversation hundreds of times since reading the book. Bakugou argued that Kirishima wouldn’t feel the same way if he’d read the first book, but it didn’t seem to sway the “manliness” he saw in the character.

Even after finishing the fourth book, the two re-read the books again and again, familiarizing Kirishima with the strokes and the pronunciations. Before long both of them could easily tell the entire story themselves without missing a single detail.

“Surprisingly, you’re a good teacher,” Kirishima stated one day. Bakugou was planning to go hunt the manticores from the job he’d accepted almost a month ago. He nearly forgot about it while being caught up teaching the dragon, and he highly doubted that it wasn’t completed yet, but the boy figured that even if he didn’t get any money from it, the beast would probably still sell.

“The hell you mean, ‘surprisingly’ bitch, I’m a great teacher. The best teacher,” Bakugou cocked his head to seemingly intimidate the dragon.

Kirishima rumbled with laughter, “Okay. Y’know, no matter how tough you act or speak, you’re so small that it’s kinda cute. Sort of like... if you were to watch a kitty get mad at something.”

“Wh-” Bakugou sputtered incoherent sounds, “What the fuck man! Th-that’s, I am not cute you’re just a massive fucking lizard that probably thinks every creature smaller than you is cute! Shut up asshole– stop laughing!” He drew his sword and began shaking it, though never took a swing at the dragon.

The ground was shaking with the dragon, who was now laughing even harder. “You saying that only makes you cuter.”

Bakugou huffed (cutely) in defeat, “Whatever, you’re weird.”

An awkward silence followed. Bakugou was still grappling with the odd compliment. Every so often he’d open his mouth, but no words ever came out. He eventually decided changing the topic was the best way to avoid whatever just happened.

“How’s your wing doing? It better be fuckin’ healing. I’m feeding you, teaching you, housing you-”

“Not really much of a house,” Kirishima mumbled.

“Housing you,” Bakugou emphasized. He continued unbothered, “So you better be grateful.”

The boy expected Kirishima to talk back, but instead he flashed a toothy smile. His mouth had three layers of teeth, the first were the biggest – just a little shorter than Bakugou’s full height – and the size went down from there. The smallest ones were the sharpest, they were about the size of a finger. Kirishima had once told him about baby teeth he had as a lizard that he eventually lost.

“I am! I really am,” he lowered his head, his left eye looking directly at Bakugou. The red pupil seemed to grow, filling the beautiful amber iris. “Most humans would try to kill us, or turn us in to guards of some king, or use us to find more dragons,” Kirishima’s voice was unusually low. He said us, Bakugou realized he was speaking for more than just himself. Dragons weren’t as solitary as he’d thought.

“But you’ve kept me secret, you let me stay in your, uh, house?”

“Home,” Bakugou affirmed.

“In your home, and now you’re teaching me how to read! Even though I’m a bother who’s taking up space and definitely attracting a lot of attention to your glade. I broke your sword and you had to buy a new one...” his smile faded, instead the corners of his mouth drooped.

Bakugou scampered across the dragon’s arm and pushed the up against his lip. It looked less like a smile and more like a crossover between a vampire and a dragon, which was creepy if anything.

“Shut up. You can’t change your size so whatever.” The dragon hummed. “Yeah, the sword was annoying. That shit was expensive, but just don’t do it again. If you’re feeling generous maybe give me some Nik from your stash of gold.”

“I’m telling you, not all dragons keep stashes of gold,” Kirishima chimed.

“You better fucking start. One day, I’m gonna be rich.”

“Oh?” his pitch rose along with his expression. “And I don’t get to keep any of the gold?”

Bakugou grinned. His eyes lit up with the same fire the dragon possessed. “If I beat you in a fight then I keep all the gold.” He stepped back from the dragon’s face, staring up into Kirishima’s eyes.

“And if I win?” Kirishima angled his head to look down on Bakugou. It seemed that any forms of intimidation wouldn’t faze him.

The boy’s smile widened, “Then it’s ours, together.”

hhHHHH hope u enjoyed. bc of some people im thinking of like posting this to a decent writing website. would anyone read it i wonder(?) i hope people aren't too confused about the age/time thing ;-; it'll be explained soon!

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#my writing #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #bokuaca #writing #bnha fantasy au #kirishima eijirou #dragon!kirishima #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x kirishima #prey series #kiribaku #bakugou katsuki

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72826-on-tumbler-blog · 7 years

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Faster, you beasts! You run like mules! I picture an early memory from the past. "You know, I remember a time when you and I were kids." Bea said, "Heh, yeah. So many memories. I remember the time we... rode our skateboards through town." Hey, Bea, how'd you like your face carved on a wall? Someday yes! How about now? "It felt like friendship. Like something different." You almost killed me! Oh, come on. Where's your sense of fun? Oh, it's fun you want? "Things have changed, Mae. What happened happened so long ago. Every day, the future looks a little bit darker. But the past, even the favorite parts of it, keep on getting brighter. Turn on the tv." I switch on the news to the daily report. "Wrong, as usual. The SCWM's lack of action in Downtown Possum Springs proves that the Vendetta's aggression at the state border will not be opposed publicly by the town governor. lssue: SCWM continued its recent series of military exercises conducting a missile test today in the New Outlet Sea..." As Beverly Hope continues, I fix myself a toaster pastry. "...And fired it just 1 500 miles off the southern coast of Alaska. Mayor Richard Dixon issued this warning to both Scum and The Vendetta: Our town does not start fights. Let it be clear we maintain our strength in order to maintain peace. So any adversary should ask themselves: ''Do the consequences of attacking each other outweigh the potential benefits?'' I give Bea and myself a toaster pastry. "Want one?" She grabs one and eats it. "As a result of the SCWM activity, the watchdog group of nuclear scientists moved the Doomsday Clock up to five minutes until midnight. The decision: starting a war between the two gangs, or exterminate them all at once. Clearly, the promise of law and order in Possum Springs is not being kept. I can only pray SCWM's latest murder is not a sign of things to come. This is Beverly Hope. Back to you in the studio." "Who the fuck is SCWM?" She told me, "The gang we're both in. It stands for The Society for the Common World of Man. The Vendetta is a gang burn from Tokyo, like the Sons of Yazuka. That's their leader: Hedda Makuini, abandoned in an orphanage until she aged out and ended up on the streets. Loxidi Wetonua, shittiest hooker in all of Manhattan. Mantagia Relzaroa, the only black bisexual pimp I've ever heard of to this day. And Butchy Mayoni Gagadui, who was on the run for killing a guy down south somewhere. "Huh." As I went to go fix myself a soda, Bea interrupted me. "Oh by the way, Neil wanted me to to give you this." She gave me a Triumph Perfekt typewriter. "He wanted you to write the SCWM Journal. To help spread fear to those who hear it." So I agreed. The next day at our second meeting, Neil began to lecture us. "Talk doesn't work with the government. The only way to win is to anti-assimilate and play their game. To do to them what they have been doing to us since the 1700s. This planet will not move forward until we get our hands bloody and murder every fuckin' dickwad on it!" A man in purple clothes said, "I've got a few punk-asses I'd like to shove to the front of the damn line." "That's the spirit, Slickback. Our goal is to kill anyone who are not a part of the men's auxiliary of SCWM. These include little limp-wristers like Bruce and Maurice here, who by shining, flaming example, encourage others to take the economy's chains off themselves. So I made a new rule: Anyone who has problems with their job or banker present must give a speech beginning with the words: I am a slave, a lowly abject slave to my problems, but I am just a man, and I am strong." Not too soon, someone new came to join and said, "I am a slave, a lowly abject slave to my problems, but I am just a man, and I am strong." "And why should we let you stay?" Neil asked her. "Because monsters have hurt me, rejected me, raped me in the showers in the barracks." Neil gave her the gang's clothes and said, "Very well, you can stay." Then he drew his attention back on us. "Listen to this. The sick, irrational pigs known as the Vendetta those who attempt to defend themselves against their own disgustingness when they see SCWM barreling down on them will cling in terror to Big Mama with her big, bouncy boobies, but boobies won't protect them from us. Will they?" We all said no. "Good." He puled out a sniper rifle. "Pass it to the others." She passed it to me. "Hold it up, Mae. Look through the sight. What do you see?" I tell him, "Crosshairs." "And in those crosshairs, your enemies. 'Cause we're gonna use their own invention to obliterate them. And once we begin to rid the country of this pestilence, our fellow kind will realize they have nothing to fear from the evolutionarily inferiors. And they are going to rise up and join us. But a few of these bitches... He pulls out a pistol and cocks it. "...Are gonna have to die first." And so we begin. We head to one of the many Vendetta safehouses, and assassinate every member of the Vendetta who rejects the SCWM. Neil would sometimes use them for rituals. Yet we would carve our symbol on their skin, so they can be warned. All the others who would still be out there in the U.S. would be sent a message: We do not start wars. Only the rich do. Those who would like to stop fighting, should join us. But if you don't, we'll find out. SCWM can see everything... "A dead body. A brutal attack. The gangs are targeting themselves. What has happened to our great nation? Are our children safe? Is there a serial killer loose? Family members remain hopeful tonight that Meadow Wilton will be found alive. But with crime on the rise, authorities are warning the public to stay inside. Lock your doors. This is Beverly Hope, reporting to you from a neighborhood gripped in terror." While I was writing my first submission to the SCWM Journal, Bea called me. "Hello?" "Hey, Mae. Charisma got me in the door, but to take it to the next level, you need a philosophy, a mission statement, something they can put in the history books preferably with a catchy title." I looked confused. "So he's letting me write a book?" "No, you don't have time for that shit. Just something you'd release something on social media. But I was testing out titles like The Scum Of The Earth. What do you think of God's Truth." I told her, "God's Truth? That's gay. She said, "What about MLWB? Men Lead Women Bleed." "I think that one might piss off the wrong people." She chuckled and said. "Yeah, I didn't like that one, either. That one was Harrison's idea. I think he's got a serious hang-up about women. Anyway, thanks for talking, sis." "Can I have some more time to myself?" "No problem. I've got some shit I got to take care of anyway." I hung up and continued typing. After I finished, I went to my parent's room. There they were, still in the bed and not even decomposing. I hold my father's hand and say, "I miss you. And I love you." I look at my mom. "I still hate you, asshole. It gives me pleasure to see you suffer." I stand up and look at them both. "I'm gonna be something someday. For you. I'll make you so proud. I promise." I walk out of the room and shut the door. "I promise."

#nitw #night in the woods #mae borowski

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agentmarymargaretskitz · 7 years

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Across the Universe and Time and Space: Victory of the Daleks

In celebration of the 13th Doctor’s announcement, enjoy the new chapter of this that I was finally able to finish up.

AO3

Lily had been searching for the library after getting out of the wardrobe. It felt excellent to be in regular clothes instead of her pajamas that had been covered in Star Whale sick. She was eager to learn more about the beautiful creature she had helped save, but the endless twisting of corridors in the TARDIS eluded her in her quest. Finally, Lily decided to go back to the console room and ask Leonard where the exact location of the library was. After all, he had known where the wardrobe was down to the last detail.

As she entered the console room, Leonard was staring intently at the screen on the central console. He didn’t seem to notice Lily until she was climbing the stairs. Once the bottoms of her shoes made a noise against the steps, he looked over sharply. There was a frown on his face, as though something was wrong with her. She glanced down at herself, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Leonard nodded as a soft boom echoed around them. “We’ve arrived.”

“Oh yeah, Churchill,” Lily remembered the phone call she’d picked up. She’d completely forgotten about it over trying to get around the TARDIS. “What do you think he wants?”

“Well, we’re in 1941 and the Blitz is currently going on,” Leonard said, walking past her to get to the doors. “My bet it’s got something to do with the war.”

“World War II,” she said, following after him. “He called you though. Have you met Churchill before?”

“Yes,” Leonard nodded. “I have. Although he might not recognize me.”

“Why not?” Lily frowned as she opened the door.

“I had a different face then.”

“Wait, what?” Lily whirled towards him. “Is that an alien thing?”

“Time Lord thing.”

“Okay then,” she nodded and stepped outside, eager to see 1941 after being years in the future.

Three guns were aimed at her by soldiers as soon as she stepped out. Lily heard the weapons cock and threw her hands in the air as Leonard came out after her.

Of course there were guns pointed at them. Leonard had been traveling long enough to know that where there were humans, nine out of ten times said there were guns around too. But given since they were here during the Blitz and in Churchill’s war bunker no less. These were tense times.

A familiar portly man pushed his way through the soldiers. Leonard smirked a little and turned to Lily. “Lily, meet Winston Churchill.”

Churchill took the cigar from his mouth. “Doctor, is that you?”

Leonard nodded and held out his hand to shake. “Hello, old friend.”

The prime minister stuck his hand out too before holding it palm up. Leonard shook his head and wagged a finger. “Ah ah ah.”

“What?” Lily looked between him. “What’s that about?”

“He wants the TARDIS key,” Leonard said.

“But just imagine what I could achieve with your remarkable machine, Doctor,” Churchill said. “Think of the lives that could be saved!”

“Works a bit different than that,” Leonard said.

Truth be told, he wouldn’t trust Winston Churchill with the TARDIS ever. It was alien and full of technology that could be used in the worst possible ways. As friendly as they were, Leonard knew that the power would get to Churchill’s head and make him even worse than the man who the Allies despised.

Besides, Leonard had been the one who stole it. He didn’t really want to give it up.

“Must I take it by force?”

Leonard closed the doors and shook his head. “Not how it works, Winston.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Lily chimed in. “But I can put my hands down yet?”

“At ease, boys,” Churchill nodded and waved a hand at the soldiers. “Who’s this young woman, Doctor?”

“This is Lily Stein,” Leonard said, motioning to Lily as she put her hands down. “She’s travelling with me right now.”

“Dr. Lily Stein,” Lily corrected as she shook Churchill’s hand. “I studied hard for that.”

“Dr. Lily Stein,” he said before looking back at Churchill. “Now, you rang?”

“I did,” Churchill motioned for them to follow after him. “Come with me.”

He walked out of the room they were in. Leonard sauntered after him with Lily bringing up the rear. As they walked through the halls, dozens of personal were running about. A young woman approached Churchill to get his signature on a requisition form. Leonard noted noted the sad look on her face and figured she had a loved one in danger. Odds were by the end of the war, they would be dead, especially if it was a soldier.

“So where are we?” Lily asked, gazing around her as they strolled down the halls.

“The Cabinet War Rooms,” he said. “The top secret heart of the War Office beneath London during the second World War.”

“I see you’ve changed your face again,” Churchill remarked as they went around a corner.

“Observant as ever.”

“You know you’re late, Doctor. I called you a month ago.”

“My apologies. The TARDIS gets like that. For a Type 40, it does that from time to time.”

Lily looked over at Leonard. “So I’m not the only one you’ve been late for?”

He sighed. “Have I told you I’m sorry yet?”

“Nope!”

“Then I’m sorry,” he said as a man in a military uniform approached Churchill.

“Sir,” the newcomer said. “Another formation is coming in. It looks like Stukas.”

“Excellent,” Churchill nodded. “Then we shall go up to the top, Group Captain. Come along, Doctor. I have to show you something.”

Leonard saw Lily grin with excitement and winked at her. Churchill lead them to an elevator typical for the time period. Lily studied it as they rose upwards in it. For a while, all the occupants were silent. Then Churchill finally turned to him.

“Doctor, we are standing at a crossroads on our own,” he said. “Our backs are to the wall with the expectation of invasion daily. If any advantage to stop the Nazi menace arises, then I shall grasp at it with both hands.”

His words were puzzling and ominous. Leonard frowned as the elevator stopped. “What kind of advantage?”

“You’ll see,” the prime minister chuckled as he let them out of the elevator and out onto the roof.

All around them was wartime London. Lily’s jaw dropped as she stared out the scene. The sun was slowly setting, but they could still see everything. Out on the roof, it was sandbags and soldiers and Union Jacks. A man in a white lab coat was looking up at the sky through a pair of binoculars.

“Oh my gosh,” Lily murmured, staring out.

“Doctor, Dr. Stein, meet Professor Edwin Bracewell,” Churchill said, pointing to the man with the binoculars. “He heads out Ironsides Project.”

Bracewell turned away from the binoculars, revealing a friendly bespectacled face. “How do you do?”

“What’s the report, Professor?” Churchill asked.

Bracewell looked back to the sky. “Two-five Ju 88s incoming from the east.”

An explosion went off in the distance. Lily flinched.

“Ready, Bracewell?” Churchill shouted.

“Aye-aye, sir,” Bracewell gave a thumbs up. “On my order...fire!”

Beams of light shot out of the sandbag outposts. They hit the enemy fliers dead on, knocking all of them out of the sky. Bracewell gave them a proud smile. Leonard shook his head, horror creeping into him. Whatever had just taken out those planes was not of this Earth.

“Well,that was something,” Lily said. “I don’t remember learning about that in school.”

“That’s not human technology,” Leonard told her as he started towards Bracewell. “It’s something else. It sounds like-”

He stopped as a horrible thought hit him. But it couldn’t be possible. He’s stopped them when Davros had plucked planets from the sky and tried to obliterate them.

“What are those?” he demanding, continuing to walk over to Bracewell. “What did that?”

Bracewell turned to the opening between sandbags. “Advance!”

“Meet our new secret weapon, Doctor,” Churchill said proudly. “The one that will win us the war.”

A Dalek rolled out and swiveled its eyestalk towards Leonard. A icy feeling ran through the Time Lord before the burning hate and anger set in.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I am your soldier!” the Dalek said.

“Stop,” Leonard glared at the monster. “You know who I am.”

“Your identity is unknown.”

“Let me clarify things here,” Bracewell said naively, coming to stand beside the Dalek. “This is one of my Ironsides.”

Leonard closed his eyes and held back a disappointed sigh as Bracewell started feeding Allied propaganda lines to the Dalek, who gave him positive responses.

How the hell was the human race not dead by this point?

“They’re Daleks, Winston. They’re called Daleks.”

Lily leaned against the desk in Churchill’s office, staring down at set of blueprints. Leonard had demanded they all leave the roof as soon as the Ironsides had revealed themselves. She had seen fury on his face as they went back down the elevator. She was reminded of being back on Starship UK and seeing that same look when he found out what was happening to the Star Whale. However, he looked even angrier now.

“They are Ironsides, Doctor,” Churchill snapped, jabbing a finger onto the blueprints of one of them before pointing to other documents and file folders. “I have proof. Blueprints, statistics, results of field tests, even photographs. Bracewell invented them and they will win us the war.”

Lily took one of the folders, flipping through it. The field tests inside looked professional. Whether they were Daleks or Ironsides, they were passing with flying colors.

“They look official,” she shrugged.

Leonard shook his head. “They can’t be. They’re fakes. Bracewell couldn’t have invented them. It’s not possible.”

“He approached a brass hat a few months ago with the designs. He’s an utter genius.”

“He’s a tool of the Daleks!” Leonard hissed. “He did not invent them. They are aliens.”

“Aliens?” Churchill shook his head. “Preposterous!”

One of the Ironsides or Daleks rolled past the office. Lily watched it go by, suspicion tickling her a little. Leonard glared at it as it passed by them.

“I don’t care what they are,” Churchill continued. “They will win me the war.”

“Why won’t you listen to me?” Leonard rubbed his temples. “You were the one who called me about them!”

“I had my doubts at first when I rang a month ago,” Churchill confessed. “I thought the Ironsides were too good to be true.”

“They are,” Leonard slammed his hands on the table. “You need to destroy them before they turn on you. They are dangerous. Lily, tell him!”

Churchill turned to her. Lily stared between the two men. She didn’t know a thing about Daleks. If Leonard was right about them, then they were only the second aliens she’d met. She barely knew a thing about Star Whales, so what was she supposed to say about Daleks?

“Lily?”

“Don’t look at me,” she shrugged. “What do you want me to tell him?”

“The Daleks. You know about them.”

“Um, no. Am I supposed to know about them?”

“Yes,” Leonard stepped away from Churchill’s desk and toward her. “After all, they invaded your world a few times. You can’t forget the planets in the sky.”

Lily tilted her head, confusing. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Lily,” Leonard watched as another Dalek rolled past them. “You remember the Daleks, don’t you? That happened here on Earth recently for you.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Are you sure you have the right planet? Or even the right time period?”

“Yes and yes,” he nodded, frowning at her. “We’re talking about that later. Right now, we need to focus on what’s happening now. You need to question Bracewell.”

“Cool,” Lily crossed her arms. “What specifically about?”

“How he got the idea for his Ironsides.”

“Excuse me?” Lily stepped into the room she’d been told Bracewell worked in. “Professor Bracewell?”

The professor looked up from his desk as an Ironside/Dalek coasted towards him. “Oh hello!”

“Would you care for some tea?” the Ironside/Dalek asked in its mechanized voice.

“That would be very nice, thank you,” Bracewell told it before it rolled off. “Where’s your friend?”

“With the prime minister,” Lily answered, stepping in. “He’s convinced your Ironsides are evil aliens called Daleks.”

Bracewell chuckled. “I can assure you, they are of my own creation.”

“You must be proud of them,” she said, smiling and looking around the room.

“I’m only doing my part for the war.”

“That’s good,” Lily walked over to another desk filled with papers. “So how did you come up with the idea for them? I’m just asking as a fellow scientist.”

“How does the idea of an invention come to anyone?” Bracewell asked.

“Fair enough,” Lily nodded as she picked up one of the papers. “You seem to have a lot of ideas here.”

“They just seem to teem from my head,” he said as he joined her at the table. “For example, I’ve had musing on the potential of hypersonic flight, gravity bubbles that can sustain life outside the terrestrial atmosphere-”

“And are these your ideas or the Daleks?” Leonard’s voice asked as he entered the room before Lily could ask more about the gravity bubble.

“Ah, Doctor,” Bracewell greeted. “Apparently you’re worried about the Ironsides. Don’t be afraid. These robots are entirely under my control I can assure you of that.”

One of them rolled forward with a cup of tea on a tray.

“See,” Bracewell took the tea. “They are the perfect servant and the perfect warrior.”

“You’re wrong,” Leonard told him, crossing his arms. “Whatever they’ve promised to do for you, you’re an idiot to trust them. They aren’t Ironsides. They are Daleks and they are death.”

“Indeed, Doctor!” Churchill entered the room now. “Death to the Third Reich. Death to our enemies.”

“And death to everyone else while you’re at it,” the Time Lord snarled.

“Would you care for some tea?”

“Enough!” Leonard swiped his hand at the tray the Ironside/Dalek, knocking it to the floor. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

“We seek only to help you.”

“To do what?”

“To win the war.”

“Really” Leonard’s voice was quiet, but Lily could feel an anger brewing behind it. “The only war you’ve ever cared about is the one your species have waged against everyone in the rest of the universe who isn’t a Dalek.”

“I do not understand. I am your soldier.”

“Bull!” Leonard lifted a wrench leaning against a pole. “But if you’re a soldier, prove it and defend yourself.”

“Wait!” Bracewell cried out as Leonard brought the wrench against the upper half of the Dalek.

“Leonard, what are you doing?” Lily shouted. She’d thought the scariest she’d seen him was back on Starship UK. Now, he looked even more vengeful as he continued to beat at the Dalek/Ironside. “Stop it!”

“You do not require tea?” it asked weakly.

“Doctor, stop this!” Churchill ordered. “These are precious machines! We need them!”

“No, you don’t!” Leonard screamed. “Fight back, Dalek! You want to. I know you do.”

Lily swallowed and took a step back towards the wall.

Leonard stopped hitting the machine and let the wrench drop before holding his arms out. “Well? What are you waiting for? You hate me. You hate everything that isn’t like me. You want to kill me. Stop acting like a good little Ironside and just do it!”

Lily shook her head and hurried forward to pull Leonard away from it. “I’m not trying to make a decision for you, but you need to calm down.”

“Please desist from striking me. I am your soldier”

Leonard yanked his arm out of her grasp.

“No!” he shouted at the Ironside/Dalek. “You are my enemy, and I am yours! You are despicable, the worst thing in all of creation. I keep defeating you over and over again. I sent you back into the void. I saved all of reality from your destruction. I am the Doctor, and you are the Daleks!”

He kicked the robot back, it’s eyestalk going from side to side. Bracewell looked hurt. Churchill glared at Leonard. Lily just stared back and forth between everyone, unsure of what to say.

Then the eyestalk swiveled back slowly towards them.

“Correct.”

“Finally,” Leonard turned back to Lily and the others. “Told you so.”

“Review testimony,” another Dalek in the room said, rolling forward to the one he had just kicked back.

Leonard went still as his voice replayed from the Dalek. “I am the Doctor, and you are the Daleks!”

“Testimony?” Leonard didn’t understand why the Daleks had taken that. “What are you up to?”

“Transmitting testimony now.”

“Who are they transmitting to?” Lily asked him.

“Testimony accepted,” one Dalek said to the other before Leonard could answer.

“Everyone, back up,” Leonard ordered. The Daleks had revealed themselves now from the disguise of helping the Allies. No mercy would be given to any of them.

“Marines!” Churchill bellowed. “Get in here.”

A small trio of soldiers hustled into the room, guns at the ready. A Dalek fired at them, killing them instantly. Churchill gasped as his own men went down. Lily’s mouth was open as she stared at them. Leonard could see that she was now taking in the Daleks in a new light. She was finally seeing them for what they were, what they had always been.

“Stop this!” Bracewell began flapping and waving his arms about. “Stop! Why are you doing this? You are my Ironsides! My creations!”

“We are the Daleks,” they said, swiveling towards him.

“But-but,” Bracewell shook his head. “I made you. I created you.”

“No. We created you.”

A beam shot out to hit Bracewell’s hand, which struck Leonard as an odd place for the Dalek to fire. They always went for the kill shot. But sparks flew in the air as Bracewell’s hand was blown off. Now there were wires and metal casing visible where the limb had been. Bracewell was an android.

“What the hell?” Churchill sputtered.

Bracewell looked as stunned as the rest of the humans in the room. It was like he hadn’t known what he was. Leonard was willing to bet the Daleks had implemented memories from some other human in his programming.

“Victory!” the Daleks chanted as they started to glow before vanishing. “Victory! Victory!”

Everyone stared at the spot where they’d been before Lily let out a long breath of air. “So you were right about the Daleks-”

“Told you so,” Leonard said quietly.

“Yes, you were,” she muttered. “But what just happened?”

“I wanted to know why they were here,” Leonard said. “To know what they were planning for the Earth.”

“And do you know?” Churchill asked.

“Apparently, it was me. They wanted my testimony. But there’s more going on though and I need to know what.”

With that, Leonard walked quickly out of the room and back to the room he had landed the TARDIS in. Lily called out to him, and Leonard knew that she was following him. He made the twists and turns to get back, walking faster and dodging people as they got in his path. Leonard wanted to get away from here and to wherever the Daleks were before she caught up to him. The last place that Lily needed to be was a Dalek ship. They could kill her, and he’d prefer to find out the mystery of what created her status as an aberration without her being dead.

“Hey!” he heard her shout when he was at the doors to the TARDIS. “What is happened?”

“That Dalek said my testimony was accepted before it escaped.”

“So?” she shrugged. “It confirmed you were right about the Ironsides being Daleks.”

“But why?” Leonard asked as he unlocked the door to the TARDIS. “I told you, there’s more going on. I need to find it out.”

Lily hurried down the small steps by the doorway. “Are we going to chase after them? Is it going to be like some galactic police chase?”

“No,” Leonard shook his head as he stood in the doorway of the TARDIS. “There’s no ‘we’ here. I’m going after them because this is dangerous. You stay here with Winston. It’s safer.”

Lily scoffed. “It’s safer to stay in the London Blitz?”

“For a human, that’s as safe as you can get right now,” he told her before stepping inside as Churchill entered the room. “KBO, Winston.”

He closed the doors and headed towards the console to get a lock on the Daleks’ location.

“Where are you?” he muttered, as he flipped the switches to get the TARDIS outside the reaches of Earth before scanning for Dalek ships.

Sure enough, there was one right by the moon.

Lily watched as the TARDIS dematerialized. She crossed her arms and looked down at her feet. Leonard was about to go run off after a bunch of aliens on his own while she was stuck down here. She could have just stayed in the TARDIS and watched the situation from the screen on the console inside. Instead, she was underground.

“What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” she asked Churchill.

“What the Doctor said,” he told her. “KBO.”

“And that stands for…”

“Keep buggering on.”

Great.

“Prime Minister?” the woman from earlier with the requisition forms came into the room. “RDF has picked up a signal. It’s an unidentified object, sir. The man on duty reports it’s hanging in the sky, but we haven’t been able to get a proper fix on it. It’s too far up.”

Winston took the papers from the woman and examined them before turning to her. “Thoughts, Dr. Stein?”

“A ship where the Daleks are, perhaps?” she suggested with a confident smile.

“Exactly!” Churchill nodded. “No doubt the Doctor’s gone after them. Now we know where he is.”

“He’ll be in the middle of everything,” Lily nodded before realizing what that meant. “And he’ll be in it alone.”

As soon as the TARDIS landed, Leonard walked out of it and right into a chamber with three Daleks. “Hell of a time to take a break from the war, don’t you think?”

“It is the Doctor!”

“Great, your brains haven’t completely rusted away,” he remarked.

“Exterminate.”

“Hold on,” Leonard fished in his pocket and held up the first thing he could find- a joy buzzer. “What I’m holding is the TARDIS’s self destruct button. One press and everything gets blown to float around in space.”

Truth be told he’d only get a little shock. The Daleks didn’t need to know that though.

“You would not use such a device,” one of the Daleks said.

“Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t,” he shrugged. “I regenerated recently. New man, new body. Maybe I’ve changed since we last crossed paths. I could blow you apart and not dwell on it ever.”

Another Dalek started to move forward, as if to scan the buzzer. Leonard held up a finger.

“Scan it and we go boom.”

The Dalek moved back. Leonard gave a smug smirk and began to examine the room. It hadn’t been very well maintained. The control panels were beaten up. Aside from an outward facing room that looked pristine, everything else was worn down. The Daleks didn’t look to be in the best condition either.

“Last time I saw you,” he murmured, remembering the stolen planets and Davros’s wicked plot. “All of you were finished.”

“One ship survived.”

“Of course it did,” Leonard shook his head. “Then you fell back through time, helpless to stop yourselves.”

“We picked up a trace,” a Dalek who’d tried to scan the buzzer announcer. “A Progenitor device was located.”

Leonard frowned. He didn’t know what that was, but he could figure it out. Daleks did love to talk about their evil plans. “And that’s going to help you?”

“It is our past and our future,” the Dalek replied.

“Deep, but tell me what it means.”

The Dalek spun towards the newer looking room. “It contains pure Dalek DNA. Thousands were created. All but one were lost!”

“So what made you build Bracewell?” Leonard asked. “You have the Progenitor. What’s the use of an android and getting a testimony out of me?”

“It was...necessary.”

Reluctance was such a rare trait in a Dalek. Leonard savored it for a moment before thinking as to why Bracewell was needed. When it came to him, he smirked at the Daleks.

“Oh,I see,” he nodded. “The Progenitor wouldn’t recognize you because you’re impure. You were the Daleks created from Davros. You aren’t pure Daleks.”

“A solution was devised-”

“Yeah, my testimony,” Leonard interrupted. “I get it. You get me to confirm that you’re Daleks. The Progenitor recognizes me as the greatest enemy of the Daleks, blah blah blah, and then recognizes you so you can create more of your kind.”

A Dalek moved over to the beat up control panel, covering up one of the balls with its plunger end.

“Withdraw, Doctor!” the other Daleks ordered. “Or the city dies in flames.”

“So you’re destroying the Earth a city at a time? Nice to see you’ve learned to take things step by step rather than doing it all at once.”

“Withdraw!”

“Cute,” Leonard sneered. “Your ship is a wreck. It’s not going to destroy London or anywhere else.”

“We will not destroy the city! The humans will do that themselves.”

Leonard pressed his lips together. With World War II going on, that was a task that could be completed.

As Lily followed after Churchill back into the main war room, a scene of panic was playing out. Telephones were ringing and people were running about. Snatches of conversation about all the lights being on in London reached her ears. If that was true, then the city would be an easy target. Thousands would die in the Blitz now.

“The Daleks are behind this,” she muttered as they approached the center table. “They have to be.”

“I concur, Dr. Stein,” Churchill agreed. “Every inch of the city is visible to the Germans. We’ve become sitting ducks.”

“Not unless we find a way to turn off the lights,” Lily said.

“You heard it as I did, the generators won’t shut off.”

“Sir,” a woman pulled her headset down. “There’s a sighting of German bombers over the channel. They’re heading for us. ETA ten minutes.”

Lily groaned. The twenty minutes she and Leonard had gotten to expose Prisoner Zero felt like a luxury now.

“Here they come,” Churchill shook his head. “Get a message to the members of the War Cabinet to meet at six hundred hours...if we’re still here.”

“Are you just going to give up on fighting back?” Lily asked. “The Daleks struck us, we need to fight back and stop this.”

“They’re aliens. I’ve seen their weapons in action, and ours are no match for theirs.”

“No,” Lily shook her head. “There has to be something here. We can’t be completely-oh!”

She remembered Bracewell telling her about all his ideas earlier. The gravity bubbles and the hypersonic flight. Maybe some of it could be applicable.

“Dr. Stein?”

Lily turned back to Churchill. “We’re not helpless. We’ve got something the Daleks overlooked.”

“Which was?”

“They left us Bracewell.”

Lily took off running towards the lab with the prime minster right behind her. When she arrived, she saw Bracewell, his arm in a sling, holding a gun. Something about his expression told Lily that the kindly scientist wasn’t planning to shoot them.

“Put the gun down, Bracewell,” Churchill ordered as he caught up to Lily. “That’s an order.”

“I’m not planning to shoot you,” Bracewell said mournfully, gazing at the barrel. “My life, what I thought was my life, is a lie. I’m making a choice to end it once and for all.”

He started to raise the gun. Lily hurried forward and snatched it out of his hands. “This isn’t the way, Bracewell. Besides, if you have a problem with the Daleks who made you, we’re already planning to take them out. We can use your help to do so.”

“But those creatures, they made or built me,” Bracewell sounded hopeless. “I remember things like any other human being. I remember the last war, the mud and the gas and the squalor. Everything about it was miserable, and I remember it all. But it never happened. What am I?”

“I’ll tell you what you are,” Churchill pointed at Bracewell with his cigar. “You are either on our side or their side, and I’m not talking about the Axis. I don’t give a damn if you are a machine, Bracewell. What I want to know is are you a man?”

Lily pressed her lips together to stop from saying something unhelpful to the situation regarding Churchill’s question. Instead, she set the gun down and took a seat across from Bracewell.

“I get that you’re hurt and upset,” she told him. “Everyone’s had someone lie to them about something, and it’s the worst. But right now, the Daleks have all the lights in London on from their spacecraft. They’ve made it an easy target for the Germans. My friend, Leonard...the Doctor, he’s on the Dalek’s ship right now to stop them. But we need to work from the ground too or thousands of people will die tonight. You’re the person who can help us stop it.”

“But how?” Bracewell asked.

“You’re alien technology,” she grinned, reaching over to his desk to pick up the ideas he’d drafted out. “You’re just as clever as the Daleks, and you’ve shown us yourself.”

He took the papers from her with a frown. “The hypersonic flight and the gravity bubbles?”

Lily nodded. “You can send up something to strike the ship with them.”

“It’s theoretical, but...yes, it could be done,” Bracewell turned to Churchill. “Prime Minister?”

“This war is big,” Churchill said. “So we need to think big ourselves. How quickly can you apply this to the planes?”

“It’s already been applied,” Bracewell responded. “But it’s untested.”

“You’ve got a shot to test it now,” Lily told him.

“No,” Leonard stared out the window of the Dalek ship before turning back to the Daleks. “Shut those lights out now or I will blow up the TARDIS.”

“Stalemate. Leave us and return to Earth.”

“And what? You win and leave?”

“Extinction is not an option,” a Dalek told him. “The Daleks must return and begin again.”

“No,” Leonard shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. You aren’t getting away again.”

A rushing noise began to circulate the air briefly before becoming a low, spaced out beeping. The Progenitor was lighting up like a demented Christmas tree.

“We have succeeded!” a Dalek blared, sending a chill down Leonard’s spine. “DNA reconstruction is complete.”

Time had run out to stop the Progenitor. Red light was wrapping up and down the arches supporting the room. Inside, some of the worst beings in all creation were being built up from Dalek DNA. Leonard stared as the doors to it opened, letting out a cloud of smoke.

“Observe, Doctor!” the Daleks announced as the newer Daleks came rolling out. “A new Dalek paradigm.

There were five that emerged. All of their casings were different bright shades. Instead of the brassy outer coloring, these monsters were red or orange or white or some other color of the human rainbow. He wrinkled his nose at them.

“We have succeeded!” one of the older Daleks cheered. “Behold, Doctor! The restoration of the Daleks. The master race has resurrected!”

Leonard shook his head. There was a madman on the Earth below who believed he had achieved that. Now, an alien race that had long heralded themselves as a master race had revived. Both the madman and the Daleks were wrong about themselves.

“All hail the new Daleks!” one of the older models proclaimed.

A new model, a large white Dalek, turned its eyestalk to the Dalek who had spoken. “Yes. You are inferior.”

“Correct.”

“Then prepare,” the white Dalek rumbled in a deep voice.

“We are ready,” the two old Daleks sung out together.

Another new Dalek model, this one blue, rolled so it faced the older models. It turned to the white Dalek.

“Cleanse the unclean,” the white Dalek said. “Total obliteration! Disintegrate!”

The blue Dalek fired one of the older models. Leonard’s eyes widened as it disintegrated in a burst of blue light. The other older models soon received the same fate.

“Well,” Leonard said as the white Dalek turned back to him. “Just us now. You’ve got new colors and deeper voices. Have you gone through Dalek puberty? Or do you still need to get through it.”

The white one began to advance on him. “You are the Doctor!”

“And you are a Dalek,” Leonard held up the buzzer. “And if you roll another inch forward, the TARDIS goes boom.”

The Dalek stopped advancing, stopping right in front of him.

“Do you know who we are, Doctor?”

“A pepperpot armed with a whisk and a plunger?” Leonard replied sarcastically.

“We are the paradigm of a new Dalek race,” the white Dalek bellowed. “Scientist, Strategist, Drone, Eternal, and the Supreme!”

“I’m guessing that last one is you,” Leonard pointed to the white Dalek. “You just came out of the oven and seem pretty confident. Maybe I’d feel that way too, but I’m not a Dalek. What’s the deal with the Supreme though?”

“It is the highest title!”

“Here I thought it was Doctor,” Leonard smirked. “That’s not important, because I have a question. What are you going to do now? From my point of view, you have two choices. Either shut off your machine lighting up London, or get blown into another kind of eternity by destruction of a TARDIS.”

“You would be destroyed too!” the Supreme countered.

“Occupational hazard!” he fired back.

The blue Dalek rolled up beside the Supreme. “Scan has revealed nothing. TARDIS self-destruct device is non-existent.”

Well, there went that ruse.

Leonard slipped the joy buzzer back into his pocket as some kind of alarm began to whir. The yellow Dalek rolled over to a control panel.

“Alert, alert!” it shrieked. “Unidentified projectiles approaching!”

The Daleks all turned to their compatriot. Leonard took the opportunity to slip over to panel behind him to get a look. Three red blips were approaching the Dalek ship. A frown settled on his face as studied the screen. Something was going on.

“What have the humans done?!” the Supreme shouted.

“Beats me,” Leonard shrugged.

“Explain! Explain! Explain!”

“Danny Boy to the Doctor, Danny Boy to the Doctor!” a new voice, one with an English accent, filled the chamber. “Are you receiving me, over?”

Leonard started to grin. “Winston, you beautiful man.”

“Danny Boy to the Doctor, come in, over.”

“Loud and clear, Danny Boy,” Leonard said, turning back to the Daleks. “You’re looking for a big dish on the side of the ship. Blow it up and it’s dark in London again, over!”

“Exterminate the Doctor!”

A beam shot from the Supreme at him. Leonard dodged it in just enough time.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Leonard shouted as he ran for the TARDIS. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but with you, it never is!”

Back on Earth, Lily Stein was gathered with the staff of the war bunker and Winston Churchill, listening to the pilots’ transmissions of the attack on the Dalek ship. She could feel the hope starting to rise around her in the room as the trio went in towards the signal. There was a wave of concern that went through everyone when one fighter went down. When the second one went down, Lily tightened her fists to stop herself from biting her nails. They had to stop that beam from keeping the lights on, otherwise history would be ruined.

“Danny Boy to the Doctor,” the remaining pilot said. “Only me left now. Anything you can do, over?”

There was a pause before Leonard’s voice came in. “Doctor to Danny Boy. Good news is I can cause a disruption to the Dalek shields. Bad news is that it won’t last long. You have to make your shots count, over.”

Lily drummed the table nervously as the pilot replied to Leonard and they agreed to pursue Leonard’s idea.

“I’m going in,” Danny Boy reported. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Lily murmured quietly.

Everyone waited anxiously until a triumphant smile spread across the group captain’s face. “We have a direct hit, sir!”

The war room exploded into cheers. Lily joined in with them, a smile of her own across her face.

“Sir, the lights have gone out again,” someone reported to Churchill. “We’re in the dark again.”

Even more cheers started up.

“Danny Boy to the Doctor, going in for another attack.”

Leonard grabbed the transmitter, watching the feed of the Dalek ship play on the screen. He’d relocated the TARDIS to hover on the opposite side of the moon as the Daleks. The opportunity to destroy the Daleks for good was right in front of him. He was going to do what he failed to do in the Time War, and destroy them for good.

“Doctor to Danny Boy,” Leonard said. “Destroy that ship. Leave no survivors. Over.”

“What about you, Doctor?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he replied. “I’m fine.”

“Doctor!”

Another one of the screens on the walls of the TARDIS came to life with the image of the Supreme. Leonard’s lip curled as he glared at it.

“Call off your attack,” the Supreme ordered.

“Call off the attack?” he pretended to consider it. “Pass. You’re not running off again to lick your wounds in the future. It’s the end for you, Daleks. You can’t escape it.”

“The Earth will be destroyed if you do not call off your attack!”

That was puzzling and it had his attention. “You’ve got nothing left after that dish. You think I’m some kind of moron?”

“Bracewell is a bomb.”

Leonard shook his head. “And I should believe a Dalek? You don’t have sincerity. Deception is built into your DNA.”

“His power is derived from an oblivion continuum. Call off your attack or we will obliterate the android.

Leonard looked back to the console. An oblivion continuum was bad news. The Earth would be decimated by it and the course of history in the universe would be sent into a tailspin. Going to stop it would save the planet, but he’d have to let the Daleks escape doing so. Of course when he had the chance to finally wipe the most evil species from existence, they went and pulled this on him.

“I could rid the universe of you once and for all,” he hissed.

“Then do it,” the Supreme challenged. “But we will shatter the Earth, and the humans will die screaming.”

“And if I go save the Earth, you run off to get stronger.”

“You have a choice to make, Doctor. Destroy the Daleks or save the earth!”

Leonard closed his eyes. Why did this have to be the choice? “Begin countdown of continuum,” the Supreme ordered. “Choose, Doctor, choose!”

Down on Earth were millions and millions of people. A young woman who did not belong in this time was among them. She was an aberration in some way, so whatever effect had created her would become null. But there was something about Lily Stein that bothered him. How did she exist when her parents were nowhere to be found, as if they themselves had never existed? But he had to keep Lily alive because she was his friend, not just because he needed to figure her out.

With a sigh, he made his choice.

“Doctor to Danny Boy. Withdraw, over.”

“Say again, sir, over.”

“Doctor to Danny Boy,” Leonard began to pilot the TARDIS back to Earth. “Withdraw and return to Earth. Over and out.”

“Understood, over.”

Leonard heard the soft boom of the TARDIS landing and ran out the doors. He was back where he’d first landed the TARDIS in the bunker. As he made his way through the halls, he followed the sounds of voices right to the war room. Bracewell was chatting away with Churchill and Lily. Neither of them knew that they were talking to a ticking time bomb. Leonard wasted no time in racing forward and laying a swift punch on Bracewell that knocked the android to the floor.

“What is your problem with him?” Lily asked, staring at him.

“Apologies, Bracewell,” Leonard hissed as his hand started to throb. Damn androids. “And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you are a bomb.”

“He’s a what?” Churchill gasped.

“I don’t understand,” Bracewell moaned, sitting upright.

Leonard bent down beside him. “You’ve got an oblivion continuum inside you that the Daleks have started a countdown on.”

“An oblivion continuum?” Lily looked at him.

“A small cache of wormhole,” Leonard explained. “It provides perpetual power, which is how you’ve been able to walk, talk, and think of incredible things. Sadly for us, the Daleks have set it to go off. When it does, the Earth will bleed through into another dimension.”

“Which would not be good,” Lily knelt down on the other side of Bracewell. “So what do we do?”

“We figure out how to stop it.”

Leonard ripped Bracewell’s shirt open, exposing his chest. Pulling the sonic screwdriver out, he aimed it at Bracewell’s bare chest. The skin began to part, revealing a metal body beneath. A circle divided into five parts rested at the center of it. One fifth of it began to glow yellow.

“Have you ever stopped one of these before?” Lily asked.

Leonard shook his head. “First time for everything. But we’ve got time to stop this. The Earth isn’t dead until all five of those parts go red.”

“Is there a way in or a wire to cut?”

“This isn’t like the movies, Lillian.”

“How is this possible?” Churchill stared down at the man. “He told us of his memories. He remembers the Great War.”

“They had to belong to someone else and just got implanted into him,” Leonard said, as an idea came to him. It would involve talking about personal feelings and life stories, but the world was at stake. “Edwin, tell me about your life.”

“I really don’t think this is the time-”

“Yes, it is,” he countered. “Prove to me that you are human, that you can feel. Tell us everything.”

Bracewell sighed. “My parents, they ran the post office in our town. It was a little place. Everyone always came into it, so they knew my family well. It was near the abbey, by some beech trees. There used to be eight trees, but then a storm took them out-”

“Tell me about your parents,” Leonard interrupted. He needed to bring out as much emotion as he could in Bracewell, and beech trees were not going to stop this bomb.

“They were good and kind. They died though. Scarlet fever. It took a sister too.”

“Focus on that,” he ordered Bracewell as the first fifth turned red and a second began to go yellow. “How did it make you feel?”

Bracewell looked hurt, almost close to tears. “It hurt.”

“Keep going.”

“It hurt,” Bracewell whimpered. “It hurt so much. It was like a wound, or even worse. I felt like I had been emptied out.

Two fifths were now red.

“Keep remembering,” Leonard told the android. “Remember the post office. Remember your parents. Remember the stupid beech trees. Remember the Great War and the trenches and the soldiers and the deaths. Feel all of that. Daleks don’t feel, but you can. You are not like them in any way. You can feel, and so can humans. Prove to us now that you are human.”

“But it hurts, Doctor.”

Leonard wasn’t sure if it was the continuum or the humanity. He hoped it was the latter, but now three fifths were red.

“Embrace that pain. It means you are alive. The Daleks won’t be able to detonate the continuum because you are a human being. Your name is Professor Edwin Bracewell and you are human.”

The fourth fifth turned red, and the final piece started to turn yellow.

Lily watched as the fourth piece went red. Leonard’s strategy of making Bracewell feel pain didn’t seem to be working well. Maybe another emotion could do the trick though. She didn’t have a lot of choices with that last piece getting close to orange, so she settled on one she’d been dwelling on lately.

“Professor,” she said. “Have you ever been in love?”

Bracewell turned his head from Leonard to look at her. “What?”

“Love,” she repeated. “Have you felt something for someone, that no matter how far away you went, you would still want to go back to them?”

A confused expression crossed the android’s face. “Huh?”

“Being away from them...it hurts, right?” Lily smiled. “Ever felt something like that?”

The fifth section started to fade into yellow.

“And even if it does hurt, it hurts in a good way.”

Bracewell nodded. “I probably shouldn’t talk about her.”

“So there’s a her?”

Another nod, followed by a dreamy smile and the yellowing section turning back to white.

“Want to share her name with the class?” Leonard asked.

“Dorabella,” Bracewell murmured.

“That’s a beautiful name,” Lily told him as she thought about Ray. “What was she like?”

“Her smile was the most perfect thing my eyes had ever seen,” Bracewell said as the fourth piece went white. “Her eyes were so blue they were nearly violet. But there was a small ring of green around the pupil. They made me think of flowers every time I looked into them.”

“And what else?” Lily asked, watching the third piece fade back to white.

“Her laugh was incredible. It made me laugh too. And she cared for people. She had so much kindness in her. If someone was in need, she was there. Dorabella…”

The remaining two fifths faded quickly into white. A small smile appeared on Leonard’s father. Lily allowed herself a proud smile of her own.

Suck it, Daleks.

Leonard smirked down at Bracewell. “Welcome to the human race, Edwin.”

Lily watched as Leonard rose to his feet and pointed to Churchill. “You’re brilliant, Winston.”

Churchill looked somewhat confused by it, but Leonard now pointed at Bracewell. “Edwin, you’re brilliant too. And Lillian, you’re a genius.”

“That’s nothing new,” she teased.

“Ha,” he replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s Daleks to stop.”

He wasn’t even halfway across the room before Bracewell sat up. “Doctor, wait. It’s too late.”

Leonard stopped and turned around slowly.

“They’ve gone,” Bracewell added, adjusting his askew glasses. “The Daleks are in the wind now.”

Leonard closed his eyes. A look of utter disappointment washed over his features. There was anger in it too. Lily could see he was starting to head into some sort of brooding state. She stood up and walked over to him. She didn’t touch him, as she was unsure how he’d react, but she held her ground in front of him.

“I failed,” he murmured.

“But you stopped the oblivion continuum,” Lily reminded him.

“I let the Daleks go,” Leonard opened his eyes, and Lily saw there was pain in them. “They won this time.”

“But you saved the planet. You stopped London from getting blown off the map. That’s not a bad outcome.”

Churchill nodded in agreement. Leonard sighed and shrugged.

“It could have been worse,” he admitted.

“Much worse,” Lily agreed.

They stayed at the bunker with Churchill for a few more hours. Lily was able to see a few more areas of the bunker in the meantime while Leonard disappeared to remove any other alien technology around the base. She made it out to the roof once more to see the soldiers raising the Union Jack as dawn broke. When she looked out at London from the rooftop, Lily couldn’t help but think about the war. History wasn’t her forte, but she knew there was a lot more to come for both the city and the world. Despite it all, those who survived would pull through.

“So what comes now?” Lily asked Churchill when she found him again in the war room.

Churchill chuckled. “There’s still a war to run, Dr. Stein. I’ll be plenty busy with that.”

Across the room, a young woman suddenly broke down sobbing. Lily remembered someone had addressed her as Breen.

“Is she okay?”

“Hm?” Churchill noticed the crying woman. “Oh, Miss Breen. Her young man didn’t make it. Shot down over the Channel.”

Lily swallowed. A terrible thought crossed her mind of something awful happening to Ray. Quickly, she shook it away. She didn’t even want to begin to think about that.

“I can’t imagine what she’s going through,” Lily murmured as another woman began to comfort Breen. “Where’s Leonard?”

“Right here,” the man himself said as he entered the room. “There’s no more alien tech around here now.”

“But won’t you reconsider letting us keep it on one Spitfire?” Churchill asked, a pleading note in his voice. “They’d win us the war in twenty four hours.”

Leonard shook his head. “No can do.”

“It could put an end all this misery!”

“As much as I’d like to help, you have to do this the hard way, Winston,” Leonard told him. “It’ll be tough. Bad days are coming, but you can do it.”

“You can stay with us,” the prime minister suggested. “Help us win the war. The world needs someone like you to look up to.”

Lily watched Leonard shake his head again. “They don’t need me. The world already has Winston Churchill.”

Churchill chuckled. “As always, it’s been a pleasure, Doctor.”

He held out his arms. Leonard looked hesitant to go in for the hug. Lily gave him a small nudge forward. In return, her alien friend gave her a look before getting a hug from the great Winston Churchill.

“Goodbye, Doctor,” Churchill told the man as he stepped back.

“Not goodbye, Winston,” Leonard countered. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

“I’d like to hope so,” he chuckled before turning to Lily. “And Dr. Stein, goodbye. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“You too,” Lily told him, letting herself grin widely as she shook Winston Churchill’s hand. She was shaking a little, still amazed that she had been able to meet him.

Churchill started to turn to leave, but Leonard held out his hand. “Hold it.”

“Doctor?”

“You’ve got something of mine,” Leonard beckoned with his hand. “I need that TARDIS key.”

Instead of being angry, Churchill chuckled and handed over the key. “You get me every time.”

“And I believe this is yours,” Leonard replied, handing over a watch.

Churchill shook his head and gave a salute. “KBO.”

With that, he left the room.

“You lifted Churchill’s watch?” Lily asked once he had gone.

“Need I remind you you’re traveling with a thief?” Leonard smirked as they left to say their goodbyes to Bracewell. “I knew he would go for the key. That’s why I took the watch.”

“Can you teach me to do that?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged as they entered Bracewell’s lab, where the android was staring at his workbench.

“I’ve been expecting you, Doctor,” he said, turning around to face them. “I knew it couldn’t last, that this moment had to come.”

“Moment?” Lily frowned.

Bracewell nodded. “You’ve come to deactivate me. I understand completely. I’m Dalek technology. I don’t belong here.”

Leonard nodded. “You’re absolutely right.”

Lily stared at him. After all that time spent convincing him he was human, Leonard was going to shut Bracewell down. Android or not, he was someone and he had shown he could feel. She couldn’t believe what was happening.

Leonard gave a quick wink at her. “Lily, we’re going to be back in, what, twelve minutes?”

“I’d say fifteen,” she said, catching on to what he was thinking and feeling relief.

“Exactly,” Leonard turned back to Bracewell. “Then you’ll be deactivated.”

Bracewell didn’t seem to get it. “So I have fifteen minutes.”

“I’d stretch it to twenty,” Lily added. “We’ve got that...thing, right? The urgent one?”

“Yes, we do,” he said slowly. “Okay?”

“Very well. I will wait here then.”

He still didn’t seem to understand. Lily smiled a little.

“Actually, I’m thinking the thing could go half an hour,” she told the android. “It’s definitely going to take a while. You shouldn’t go anywhere.”

“Nowhere,” Leonard was smirking now. “Don’t go trying to find a post office by some beech trees. And definitely don’t go after any girl you’ve loved.”

“No way,” Lily added, shaking her head.

“But there’s a lot that can get done in half an hour.”

Finally, Bracewell seemed to get it. A smile spread across his face and he began to laugh. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You can thank me by going,” Leonard told him before turning around to walk out. “Come along, Stein.”

Lily followed after him before stopping at the door. Looking back one last time, she watched as Bracewell pulled out a travel case. He looked utterly delighted.

“Professor?”

Bracewell turned around.

“I hope you find Dorabella,” Lily told him.

“As do I, Dr. Stein.”

“So, you have enemies?”

Leonard turned around as Lily ran into the room where the TARDIS was. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, I get that everyone has enemies and rivals,” Lily shrugged. “But usually they’re not trying to kill you or destroy the world. Yours are arch-enemies or something.”

“You have no idea,” Leonard replied, leaning against the TARDIS. Lily had no clue what kinds of creatures despised his existence.

“I never thought of you having enemies,” Lily crossed her arms. “Maybe it was because I met you when I was a kid, but I never saw you having any.”

“And now you know I do.”

“They’re dangerous,” she added. “Really dangerous. Actually, it’s the stuff of nightmares.”

“So am I,” he told her. “That’s not a problem, is it?”

“You run risk with everything you do,” Lily shrugged. “Besides, I’m still here.”

“For now,” his mind thought, reminding him of all the people he’d lost because they were around him. Lily couldn’t join them. There were already too many faces he’d failed already.

“Are you worried about the Daleks?”

Leonard snorted. “All the time. But there’s something else to worry about.”

“Which is?”

“Something forgotten,” Leonard turned to unlock the TARDIS. “Or should I say something you’ve forgotten.”

Lily scrunched up her face in confusion. “Me?”

“You didn’t know the Daleks,” Leonard told her as he pushed open the door. “You didn’t recognize them.”

“If this is about earlier, are you sure that it happened on Earth during a time I was alive?”

“I know it did,” he affirmed as she stepped inside.

“No one on Earth has ever of them,” Lily replied. “I’m positive.”

Leonard watched her walk towards the console, but didn’t make a move to follow after her. He’d have to check Earth’s timeline, but he was all too certain Lily had witnessed at least one Dalek attack. It could be her status as an aberration that was causing this. She seemed perfectly normal, but then again a lot of deadly things were like that before they attacked you.

“What are you, Lillian Stein?” he asked quietly as he stepped into the TARDIS and shut the door.

As the TARDIS dematerialized, light shined out of the crack in the wall of the room it had been in.

#across the universe and time and space #doctor who #legends of tomorrow #leonard snart #lily stein #fanfiction #au

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laceymorganwrites · 4 years

Text

The Story of the sad chapter 15

Word Count: 2,367

Pairing: Ban x reader

Warnings: cursing

Summary: The Rescue Mission continues

Taglist; @lysawayne

“Okay, lovely reunions aside, we gotta go save the princess now” you hated to be the one who destroyed this precious moment, but someone had to do it.

It wouldn´t be good if you stayed here any longer than you needed to.

“You should´ve said that at the beginning, dear” Merlin smirked and forced Elizabeth´s location out of Vivian.

As soon as she uttered the words, Merlin teleported you in front of the king´s room, something was holding her back though, it was the perfect cube, a demonic barrier.

Not that that was a problem for Merlin, who immediately canceled the magic, making you able to enter the room.

Elizabeth headed straight for Meliodas to hug him, it was bittersweet. She didn´t remember him yet and still her feelings were prevalent.

You wondered if you would ever be able to harbor such a strong love for another person and if they would for you.

Before you could sink into your thoughts any more, Dreyfus entered the room and had all of you on guard.

However instead of fighting you, he broke down on the floor in shame, admitting to the crime of killing his own brother, the very reason you had to flee in the first place. Before you wasn´t a holy knight, he was merely a broken man eaten alive by his guilt now.

He also informed you that Hendrickson´s plan was to bring forth another holy war.

After hearing that his son was alive, he obliged and obediently walked himself into the dungeon to await his trial.

Merlin took a look at the king´s health and stated that he needed to be treated immediately, however this would only be possible in Camelot where she had all of her supplies.

“I´m coming with you!” you said.

Merlin only raised an eyebrow but then chuckled.

“I suppose you would, after all it´s where your weapon lies… however it got there, I cannot remember” she smirked.

She teleported you, Arthur and the king to Camelot´s castle where she treated him.

“Arthur, show (Y/N) where her sword is” she smiled mischievously.

“You mean the one you told me to guard?” he asked and you cocked an eyebrow, why would he have to guard your sword? It´s not like it would wither and nobody was able to steal it.

He showed you around the castle and then stepped through a secret hallway leading into a big room plastered with all kinds of weapons and armor of the goddess clan.

It felt like a twisted version of home.

“What the hell...where did she get all of this? Well, I suppose if anyone would be able to, it´d be Merlin. But still...” you looked around the room in wonder, subconsciously remembering your old days as a soldier, as the head of the holy army.

It was sick but it filled you with pride, you were good at it, very much so and even better at strategy.

But still, there had to be a reason why you remembered so much of your past recently.

“Merlin said you could take anything you want, she also told me to tell you to view this room as your personal closet” he awkwardly smiled at you.

You had to chuckle, that was so typical of her.

“Well, thanks a bunch for all of this, but I have to go back now” you said as you went back to say goodbye to Merlin, sword in hand.

“If you ever need anything else, just give me a call” Merlin smiled at you before she teleported you back to the capital.

You landed right amidst the action, it seemed.

“Holy shit, what the fuck is going on?” you asked, looking around you saw only ruins of the castle, two holy knights wincing in pain and your friends, boyfriend and another holy knight.

“Hell if I know, whatever it is we have to make it stop” Diane said.

“Babe!” Ban came up to you and hugged you tight, kissing your cheek.

“I missed you...” he nuzzled your neck.

Warmth spread through your body as you let yourself fall into his touch for an instance, this, whatever this was, whether it was true or not, it felt right.

Yes, Gowther did spread some doubt in your mind about the reason you got into this relationship, but you wouldn´t let that hinder you.

You were always better at fighting when you had something to protect, even if that something was immortal and handsome.

“(Y/N)! You got your sword back!” Elaine exclaimed, clapping her hands and cheering for you.

“Finally joined the party, eh?” Meliodas joined you, teasing you.

But before any more casual conversation could be held, Jericho transformed into the same monster that Meliodas, Ban and King fought a while ago.

Apparently it was a malfunction on holy knights who have been given demon blood.

The thought that Hendrickson did that still made you sick to your stomach.

He suddenly appeared in front of you, clad in a demonic aura as the new generation of holy knights all transformed into beasts.

“Okay so, how the fuck do we go about this? Mel, you told me that those beasts could only be defeated once you killed the person inside, right? There has to be another way!” you called out to him.

There was too much chaos to get a clear head or overview, everything happened too quickly.

Meliodas and Gilthunder tried to take on Hendrickson, however he ordered Vivian to take Margaret and Elizabeth as hostages, making the men startle for a second.

A second he used to slice them down.

Elizabeth did something very brave and stupid at that moment, she offered to go with Hendrickson in return for Meliodas´ and Gilthunder´s life.

She always thought about others before herself, which made her so strong.

“Mel, I know what you´re thinking, but we need to think this through. We need a rescue Elizabeth team and one that deals with those fuckers” you pointed at the beasts that were once holy knights.

All he gave you was a pained expression.

“I´ll heal your wounds, give me a sec” you knelt down at his side and applied your magic.

“Okay, we need to contain those monsters before we know what to do with them that doesn´t kill the person inside. I can´t afford them to wreak any more havoc. Somebody needs to get the citizens into a safe space. So that´ll be two teams. And then the last one is the rescue team. King, Diane, Gil and Howzer, you go defeat the beasts. Gowther, Hawk and Elaine, get the people to safety. Ban, Mel and I will rescue the princess.” you knew it wasn´t your place but someone had to put order and clear instructions into the heads of the scared, otherwise nothing could be done.

Nothing could be achieved by being frozen in fear.

Meliodas nodded, getting back up on his feet.

You ran into the direction where Hendrickson´s magic was coming from, apparently Dreyfus fought him as of right now.

Dreyfus was on your side, but even if you arrived in time to save the princess you doubted that the four of you could take Hendrickson on.

You might have been able to if you had had the opportunity to train with your sword longer, it should come to you easily, but maybe ten years was just too long. Not to mention Meliodas was exhausted, even though you healed his wounds.

And while Ban couldn´t take any longterm damage from Hendrickson, you doubted he could deliver any to him.

It was hopeless. And yet you couldn´t just stand around and continued moving forward.

When you arrived you saw only the remains of Dreyfus´ armor and a bleeding Elizabeth.

You hoped Ban and Meliodas would be able to distract Hendrickson long enough for you to heal her and get her to safety.

Without thinking you flew past him, grabbed Elizabeth and healed her in the process of leaving her in the care of Elaine and Hawk who alongside Diane and the others came into your direction to help.

You told Elaine and Hawk to get to safety before you joined the fight again.

“Mel, if we´re lucky he won´t be able to take the demonic magic any longer, so let´s hit him with everything we got. Make it count” you husked, a determined look in your eyes as you swung your sword as the first attack against Hendrickson.

Ban watched in awe as your blade stroke his skin, making him wince in pain. It´s been while since he´s seen you go all out on someone and damn were you a sight to behold.

So graceful, so elegant, so utterly beautiful. He had to watch out not to get distracted too much by you.

“Yes babe! Get him!” he cheered for you and the others followed your example, fiercefully attacking Hendrickson.

As the battle commenced it was revealed that Hendrickson hid a red demon corpse in a hidden cave which he claimed to be the source of it all.

It enraged you beyond belief, how he said that without any remorse, without any tone change in his voice, he even sounded proud of it, of himself.

“You disgust me...” you balled your fists, shaking as tears streamed down your face.

“How the fuck could you make them drink that?! Aren´t you ashamed of yourself, you piece of shit? I´m gonna fucking obliterate you and you bet your ass I´m gonna make it hurt” you lashed out at him, your wings subconsciously raised you higher as you started an attack from above, slashing at his shoulder with all force.

“Ashamed? Why should I? Just look at all the success I´ve had with this… I´m invincible” he sardonically smirked.

“If only Mael didn´t steal my place as one of the four archangels and I had his sword, I would´ve killed you back when we first found out about you, but now this´ll have to do!” you kicked him in the guts and held him down, about to give him the final stab when he grabbed onto your wings and broke them.

You saw red as the pain emitted into your body like hot lava, almost making it burst. Your wings hung loosely down your back and you couldn´t move them, they were now a mere burden to you.

“You fucking bastard!” Ban rushed to your side and got you out of harm´s way, only refusing to hit Hendrickson when Meliodas actively held him back.

“Ban.” Elaine stated coldly, there was so much anger inside of her small body she couldn´t contain it, she would have her revenge.

“Let´s end this. Once and for all, we did it once, we can do it again. It´s time for vengeance, for the forest, for (Y/N), for all the misery this thing caused” she grit her teeth, collecting all of her magic in the palm of her hands and pointing it at Hendrickson, making him fall down the hole that was created when the demon was revealed.

“Fucking hell, this hurts like a bitch...” you twisted your arms behind your back to reach your wings to heal them, but it seemed like you had exhausted your healing magic for the day.

“Don´t force yourself, (Y/N). We´re gonna take him down, no matter what” Meliodas told you, carrying you to the side of the battlefield with a dark look in his eyes.

“Diane, you stay back with (Y/N). Watch that nothing happens” Meliodas ordered as the rest went down the hole into the cave.

“We´ll be right back, darling...” Ban held your face in his hands, caressing your cheek. “Just stay put, okay? Diane, make sure she´s not into too much pain. Please watch out for her for me” he pleaded with a worried look on his face before he kissed your forehead one last time and joined the others.

“You can count on me!” Diane nodded determined and sat down beside you.

“Poor (Y/N)...is there anything I can do to help?” she hated being tall, especially in moments like this she felt useless. A dear friend was hurting and she couldn´t do anything but sit by and watch.

“No...I´ll have to wait until my magic is restored, I think with enough stretching I can heal myself. But it hurts like a bitch...” you forced a smile.

“Maybe we can talk to distract you from the pain? Hey, let´s talk about Ban! That´s sure to brighten up your mood” she smiled at you.

“Yeah, it sure is...” you returned the smile.

“I don´t know what I did to deserve him, but I feel like if I question it too much all the happiness will just go away and I don´t want that. But if I don´t question it then I´ll never be sure...” you rested your chin on your legs.

“Sure of what?” Diane tilted her head.

“Whether I truly love him...whether I´d be able to recognize the feeling even if it hit me in the face or if I´m even capable of such a wonderful thing...” you shared your thoughts with her, watching her frown.

“Well, with your past it´s only natural that you´d feel this way. I can´t tell you how to feel but I can tell you the things I noticed that changed about you when you and Ban got together. You´re happier, it shows, you´re so free and light all the time, it´s contagious, it´s like your smile and happiness washes over to the rest of us. And you´re much more relaxed too, it´s like a burden has been lifted off you. I like seeing you happy like this, I never liked it when you were so depressed over things long past and unchangeable… and (Y/N)? I can see the same changes in him too. He´s so soft and gentle around you, I´m envious of what you have, it´s just so beautiful” she played with her fingers.

“You think so? I didn´t notice any of that...” you felt silly, how could you not even recognize your own happiness let alone the one of others anymore? It was pathetic.

“It´s because you´re always in your head” Diane giggled.

#seven deadly sins #seven deadly sins imagine #seven deadly sins fanfiction #seven deadly sins fanfic #ban x reader #sds #sds imagine #sds fanfiction #sds fanfic #nanatsu no taizai #nanatsu no taizai imagine #nanatsu no taizai fanfiction #nanatsu no taizai fanfic #nnt #nnt imagine #nnt fanfiction #nnt fanfic

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tinydooms · 7 years

Text

Worth a Thousand Words

So, I didn’t write anything for the June Challenge yesterday, because I couldn’t figure out how to make this scene fit into one of the prompts. It’s one of those Maurice-love-the-Beast-as-a-son AUs, but is mainly an excuse for me to have a go at analyzing Adam’s ruined portrait. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated.

So, without further ado:

Worth a Thousand Words:

Maurice wanders the castle, growing more confident with each passing day. The staff have assured him that as long as he stays out of the West Wing-the master's private quarters-he is free to go anywhere he likes in his new home. Home. Maurice shakes his head whenever he thinks of the word, falling so easily from the lips of the enchanted servants. Whatever this castle is, it is not a home. It is dark and cold and lonely, its grand hallways filled with a despair that is not hard to understand. He has no idea what happened here, but he senses that the Beast is as much a prisoner here as he is.

If only he hadn't sent Belle away. If only he had never lost his way in the woods. If only they had never come to Villeneuve. If only, if only.

Belle will be all right. Maurice knows that she is a capable young woman, and she will make her own way. He will never stop missing and worrying about her, but he knows that she is her mother's daughter and that she will survive.

He has hardly seen the Beast since the monster sent Belle away, and he cannot help but be thankful for that. The rest of the staff are good to him; they have given him a comfortable bedroom, new clothes, excellent food. The cold that set in when Maurice was in the tower is beginning to heal. He asked for drawing materials and received a wealth of fine paper and charcoal pencils, paints and canvases and chalk. Truly, there is nothing Maurice wants for here but his freedom.

He wanders the corridors now, looking at the paintings on the walls. There is excellent work here, portraits and landscapes and scenes both classical and modern. He recognizes the work of some of his Parisian compatriots, men he worked and drank with back when Paris was bright and the future rosy. There is a picture of a woman on a swing, kicking her shoe off to her lover below. Maurice studies it, remembering Fragonard's earlier works. So they have not been cursed long here, then. Ten years, at the most. Interesting. He wonders, not for the first time, who is responsible for collecting all of the extraordinary artworks that reside in this place.

There is a portrait gallery in one of the upstairs corridors, filled with pictures of the family that has ruled the castle for generations. Maurice wanders, looking at them, studying the family resemblances. These are the gentlemen of the family, here are their wives, their children, on and on, until finally the portraits run out, ending in a pair of ruined canvases. Maurice stops. What on earth has happened here? The mother has survived (and good thing, too; she was a lovely creature, with a gentle smile and eyes filled with kindness), but the father's face is mangled. It looks like someone ripped through his features, someone with claws and a fierce and burning hatred.

Maurice goes very cold.

Why would the Beast do this? Who was this man, who stares down at Maurice with a single cold eye? His face is all but obliterated, but Maurice can see the proud stance, the hands curled into fists. There is a sword on his hip and he is surrounded by dogs; a stag's head hangs on the wall behind him. A hunter, then, and a soldier. A cold man. And he was married to that lovely young lady? Maurice looks at the woman's portrait again, and feels a twist of sadness at the harshness of arranged marriages. Then he moves his attention onto the last portrait. Their child.

This portrait is slashed, too, though not with the same hatred as the father's. It is as if the Beast (for Maurice has no doubt it was he who did this) couldn't bear to look at this picture long enough to destroy it. The gashes are fairly clean; with care this picture could be salvaged. Maurice studies it with interest.

The subject is a young man, perhaps twenty-five. He favors his mother, with dark gold hair and blue eyes the color of the summer sky. He is a great beauty, or would be if it weren't for the coldness that he exudes. His gaze is icy, challenging, as though daring the viewer to find him anything but beautiful. He sits with one arm resting on the table before him, his very posture filled with hauteur. And something else, something-

“What do you think of him?”

Maurice starts, yanked from his thoughts. In his concentration, he has not noticed the Beast making his way down the gallery, though the Beast himself has taken care not to be too quiet. He stands a few feet away, watching Maurice study the damaged painting.

“Oh! Forgive me, Lumiere said I could wander-”

“Yes, it's all right,” the Beast says. He is not wearing that filthy shroud today, Maurice notes, but has washed and dressed in clean clothes. Is he more or less horrifying for dressing like a human man? Maurice is unsure.

“What do you think of him?” the Beast asks again, nodding towards the portrait. “You have studied him so long.”

Maurice looks back at the picture. Whoever the artist was, he was a genius for capturing so much emotion. It strikes Maurice suddenly that he has seen those eyes before, that he knows whose picture this is.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that I would be very worried about this young man, if he were my son.”

The words ring out into the quiet corridor, and Maurice waits for the Beast's anger. But it does not come. Instead the monster cocks his head, startled. Whatever answer he had been expecting, it wasn't this one.

“What do you mean?”

Maurice gestures at the painting. “Look. It has layered nuances, this picture. At first glance we see only this young man's beauty, and that would have pleased him. But look at it longer and you begin to see more. Come.”

The Beast comes to stand next to Maurice, gazing as the artist points. Maurice puts his fingers to the canvas, pressing the worst of the gashes across the young man's face together. “Look, here, at his face. He is handsome, arrogant. He is blessed with classical beauty, and would be stunning if he smiled. But look at the eyebrows-what do you see?”

The Beast shakes his head. Maurice taps the canvas. “He is afraid, this young man. Anxious is the better word, maybe. See how his eyebrows are set? There's a defiance there. He is waiting for an attack, this one. You can see the challenge in the way he holds his features. I would say that someone close to him was extremely critical of him, so much so that he hid his fear behind a mask of arrogance, and became exactly like that person so as to try to appease them.”

Maurice falls silent, wondering if he has said too much. The Beast does not speak, but stares at the picture. “You can tell all that from a painting?” the creature says at last.

“An artist is trained to see every nuance the body has to offer,” Maurice replies. “I would very much like to know who the artist was.”

“He was an Englishman, Joshua somebody. Came to France, did a few paintings, left again. He was immensely talented.”

So it is the Beast's own picture. Maurice looks at his erstwhile captor, suddenly pitying him. For the first time, he is not afraid of the Beast.

“What happened here?”

The Beast looks at him. He is not angry, but seems rather hesitant. “What if I told you that the young man in the portrait was afraid, of so many things? What if I told you that his mother died when he was young, and that he was never good enough for his father, who called him all sorts of names and accused him of weakness and a multitude of other sins? And he tried and tried to please the old man, to make him love him, and never succeeded. And so he became cold and cruel and, and twisted, until he was so full of fear and anger and hurt that he cared for nothing and no one but himself, because it was safer?”

“I would say it is small wonder that he became so, if he was raised without love,” Maurice says. He hesitates, then adds, “It's your picture, isn't it?”

“Yes.” The Beast looks down at his paws, ashamed. “I was cruel to an enchantress. She damned me for it. She offered me a rose in return for shelter, and I mocked her and sent her away. She said I needed to learn a lesson and that I could look forever as I was on the inside.”

Maurice whistles. “I know some villagers she ought to visit,” he remarks, and the Beast gives him a shy smile.

“It's cold here,” he says abruptly, “and you are not yet well. Let's go downstairs; Mrs. Potts can bring tea.”

Maurice is surprised, but follows the Beast out of the gallery, down the stairs to the little drawing room. If the staff are surprised to see them together, they make no sign of it, and Mrs. Potts does indeed provide them with tea, and toast and little cakes. They eat and drink quietly, and Maurice reflects on the Beast's words.

“That will be your father, then, in the other ruined portrait?” he says at last.

The Beast gives a hollow smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“You must have hated him.”

“Yes,” the Beast says. “I was scared to death of him. He always had quick fists and a raging temper.”

Maurice studies the Beast, who does not quite meet his eye. He is beginning to understand, now, and wants to learn more, but he knows too how difficult it can be to talk about the past. “Fear is a terrible thing to live with,” he says, and the Beast nods.

“Yes. I've made you fear, and I regret it. I am...not used to kindness.” He raises his eyes and looks at Maurice. “You can go. Home, I mean. Back to your daughter. For...for helping me to see.”

Maurice stares. The words hang in the air between them; there is no anger in the Beast's voice, only a quiet despair. He thinks of the young man in the painting, and how different he would look if he were happy. And he understands for the first time that he can help.

“Thank you, but I think I will stay a bit longer,” he says. “As you said, I am not quite well yet. Would you like some more tea?”

The Beast stares at him. Maurice helps himself to more tea and toast, and turns the subject to art in general. The next day, he begins to teach the Beast to draw.

It is strange to have someone in the castle who is neither a staff member nor a prisoner. The Beast (for he will not allow himself to have a name) is mystified by the old artist, Maurice, and cannot imagine why he has chosen to stay. But he finds that he is grateful to have the man there. Maurice's fear has vanished. In its place is a warmth and kindness that the Beast has not experienced since his mother died, many years ago now. It makes the Beast want to get up in the morning, to see him. Maurice teaches him to draw, showing him how to hold the pencils in his clumsy paws, never speaking a harsh word. Drawing soothes the Beast, allowing him to breathe regularly. And as they draw, they talk. Maurice tells the Beast of his life and travels, and how he and his daughter came to be in Villeneuve, and the places they had lived before. Paris, Versailles, Rouen, Toulouse. Adam tells him about his childhood, about his English mother, his tutors, the books he loves to read. They talk and talk, and the Beast's heart begins to thaw under Maurice's genuine interest. Shyly, the Beast opens up more and more to his former captive.

“What is your name?” Maurice asks him one afternoon, as they sit in the library together, looking through books on the history of art.

The Beast hesitates. “I haven't let myself have a name in years.”

“Yes, I noticed that the staff only calls you 'the master', like some villain in a gothic novel.” Maurice smiles. “You needn't tell me if you really don't want to, but I would very much like to know it.”

“I'm a creature. Can creatures have names?”

“Certainly. Have you never named a horse or a dog? You may be a creature, but you are also a man under a curse. You are allowed to have a name,” Maurice says.

The Beast's breath catches in his throat. He realizes all of a sudden that he loves this old man dearly. I wish he were my father. He clears his throat. “I was called Adam. I am Adam.”

Maurice smiles. “A strong name. It means 'man', you know.”

Adam's breath catches again. “It does?”

“Yes,” Maurice replies. “I'm sure there is a Hebrew grammar somewhere in this library, if you don't believe me.”

“I believe you,” Adam replies. He feels as though he has been given a gift.

Maurice's cold goes, and yet he does not leave. Weeks pass, and he continues to stay with Adam, bringing light and laughter and kindness to the castle. Maurice is the father that Adam never had and always longed for. He finds he does not resent the curse as much, now that he has a friend. There is only one thing that keeps Adam's happiness from being complete, and that is the man's daughter. Adam cannot help but feel a stab of guilt whenever he thinks of her.

“Why do you not return to your daughter?” he asks Maurice one afternoon.

They are sitting in the West Wing balcony, where Maurice has been using the turrets to teach Adam perspective. Maurice looks up from his sketching and gives Adam a small smile.

“Do you not know?” When Adam shakes his head, Maurice continues. “Belle does not need me as much as you do. I made the choice to stay weeks ago, that day when you said I could leave. I could see your fear and self-loathing, Adam, and I couldn't let it continue to consume you. Your father may have twisted you up, but you were beginning to find your way out of it. You just needed a little outside help.”

Adam stares. Maurice gives a little chuckle. “Besides, I always wanted to have a son. And now I do. Because you are my son, Adam, whatever you look like, and I love you for it.”

Adam can't speak for the tears that fill his throat. Then there is a flash of gold light, and a ringing that sounds like music in his ears, and Maurice jumps back in shock as Adam ripples and changes. For a moment all is confusion, and then Adam is standing on his own human feet, his human hands holding a pencil and sketchbook, his heart racing. He looks up at Maurice, thunderstruck. The curse is broken.

“Oh,” Adam says, and flings himself into Maurice's arms, sobbing. The older man catches him and holds him close.

“It's all right, Adam,” Maurice murmurs. “It's all right, my son. You're all right.”

Adam has never been held like this, by a father, has never felt a father's love, and yet he knows in that moment that everything will be all right.

#Beauty and the Beast #Not actually part of the #June Challenge #am writing #outing myself as an art history nerd #and also a woman with a passionate interest in psychology

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