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highqueenofelfhame · 3 years

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fafs - twenty

A/n: Sorry for the delay! This chapter was just too important to rush. If you wanna set the mood, listen to simmer by hayley williams. Also a super special shout out to katie for basically becoming my beta and making my writing better!!

Aelin had a ritual for a normal job.

In the days leading up to a job, she would perfect her cover, altering her appearance enough that she wasn’t so easily recognizable. Brown contacts would disguise the blue and gold of her eyes. Sometimes she would dye her golden hair red or brown, forgoing the heat of a wig, and spend weeks following the hit annoyed she had done it.

Sometimes she even used special effects products to craft scars on her face, or to give her nose an entirely different shape than what it was. She perfected walking with a convincing limp, mastered several accents that were so wildly different from her own, and could blend in seamlessly with any crowd from the seedy underbelly of the city all the way to the intricate court of esteemed royalty. Celaena Sardothien was a chameleon, a whisper on the wind that could vanish just as soon as she appeared.

Before a hit, Aelin would spend hours playing music loudly enough for it to reverberate through the walls of her apartment. The music was the same each time - a symphony of songs that rose in tempo and volume so that by the time she was dressed, she was bouncing on her toes and ready for what may come.

She would have sharpened her weapons in time with the melody. She would have pulled on her suit in a methodical way, zipping up the back as a song came to a climax. A slow grin would have spread across her lips as her playlist progressed, her adrenaline pumping, unable to stop from jumping in place.

But this was not a normal job. Aelin hadn’t taken care when pulling on her suit, her body littered with small cuts and scrapes from the hidden weapons all over. She hadn’t even cared to alter her appearance for this foray into the underworld. Aelin hadn’t even bothered with a mask. She wanted them all to know who it was that ended their miserable lives. She wanted them to feel the wrath of the queen of assassins descending upon them. Most of all, she wanted them to see the raging inferno burning in the golden iris of her eyes while they took their last, shuddering breaths.

There would be no music for her this time.The only song she could hear in her head was the relentless pounding of the volatile rage that rushed through her veins . The rage that had always lay in wait, a predator ready to strike at any given moment, and now, was poised to make its first attack. It was a song about finding a line between wrath and mercy— a line that she always toed, but could not find herself anywhere near, not today. Not where Rowan was concerned.

So instead of her usual ritual, she had settled into what was undoubtedly the numbest and most chilling killing calm she had ever felt. Nothing could pierce the veil she had around her as she prepared to make her move. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart. All she could see was red.

Squatting on a rooftop, Aelin’s eyes narrowed on a window across the alley. Nox knelt beside her, flipping a knife between his fingers while they both mapped out what lay before them. With no one knowing that he was in close contact with Aelin, Nox was able to slither through the underground network of assassins and black market dealings to figure out who had Rowan and where he was being kept.

All roads lead to Arobynn Hammel— something that didn’t surprise Aelin in the slightest. He had killed Sam first and made a point to slaughter everyone she had ever loved. Now he was trying to take Rowan from her, too. He should have known better. If anyone knew about her deadly precision and taste for revenge, it was Arobynn. He knew she would come for him. He knew it would rain blood when she did.

Bright blue eyes scanned the building she watched, looking for any sign of anyone being near any of the windows. Nox pocketed his knife and rested his forearms against his knees. Like Aelin, he was poised on his toes with alert eyes roving over the streets below. Fortunately they were hidden well enough in the shadows as the sun sank below the horizon behind them.

“What’s your plan? Are you going to call your contacts?” Aelin turned his question over in her mind, knowing full well that she should call Fenrys and give them a full report of the situation. She knew they would come in and Rowan would be safe. Aelin would be free of any damning action that could potentially send her back to prison.

But if she did call, the scum that had taken Rowan from her were likely to live another day. Some of them would slither back into the underworld, some of them would end up in prison. The imprisoned ones might end up out on the streets again due to technicalities, or successful escapes, though that was a slim possibility. She needed to get inside that building before the FBI checked her anklet and found out she wasn’t at the apartment where she was supposed to be.

“No,” she finally said, tapping her thumb against her knee. No, she wouldn’t call. No, she wouldn’t leave this up to fate. Everyone in that building was going to pay for their crimes. Today, she was the judge, jury, and executioner. Aelin Galathynius was a vengeful god, one with fire flowing through her veins. She would not stop until everyone had paid for what they’d done.

The wind blew a loose strand of hair across her face as she stood, the bite of the breeze keeping her focused on the task at hand. She brought her foot up to rest on the ledge of the roof, eyes narrowing in on the four-paned window across the way. There was a shadow several paces deep, likely someone paroling the room— waiting on her. She couldn’t see through the rest of the windows well enough, but there was no movement detected. Aelin pursed her lips, gaze dropping down the side of the gray wall before she looked over at Nox.

“You should leave. You don’t need to be here when they come,” she told him absently, licking her lips as she stepped up onto the ledge.

“Celaena—” The look she gave him cut him off; whatever he saw in her face, her eyes had him nodding once. A cruel, twisted smile curled at her lips as the wind whipped at her face ferociously. Aelin stepped fully onto the ledge, giving the alley below a final once over before she tipped her head back and inhaled deeply.

And then she jumped.

~*~

It had been a long while since Aelin had performed a free-fall through a window. She had almost forgotten what rolling over shattered glass could do, bits stabbing through her arms and sides. The momentum had her slamming into a metal post that she had mistaken as a person. It knocked the wind completely out of her, and she had to take a few extra seconds to gasp down several lungfuls of air before she could roll to her feet.

But it was one hell of an entrance— one that would send a signal to everyone below that death was raining down upon them. The knowledge sent a shock of adrenaline through her body just as footsteps had begun to scuffle down the hall.

Two voices were speaking in hushed tones. By the time the heavy, metal door was pulled open with a discordant squeak that made her cringe, Aelin had effectively disappeared into the shadows. The whispers died off as their boots crunched over broken glass. One of the men swore, his voice entirely unfamiliar to Aelin. Peering through the shelving unit she hid behind, neither of them looked like anyone she’d ever come in contact with.

Good. It would make killing them easier.

From the little cave she had backed herself into, she watched them exchange uneasy glances. Their heads turned, trying to figure out where she’d disappeared to in the sixty-seconds it had taken them to respond to a silent alarm she’d likely sounded. The two men didn’t speak while they looked around the room, unable to see her where she’d crouched down. All she could see now was their feet shuffling across the floor, making their way back toward the exit.

This, she was sure, was supposed to be a trap. Something that was supposed to make her feel at ease that they didn’t believe she was here, that they’d found nothing but a broken window. They would pretend to leave, either one or both, and then they’d be waiting for her when she thought she had the freedom to slip from the room. Clearly, these two morons did not quite know the ocean of rage that she was drowning in. They were unaware of exactly who stalked her prey like a lioness hunting for dinner.

Aelin thought about waiting, thought about letting them think they were going to leave this room alive. But she remembered that Rowan was in here somewhere, likely incapacitated in some way, and she decided she didn’t care. What was the point in giving them false hope when they’d taken every bit of hope she’d ever had? No. They didn’t deserve the hope of living another day. They deserved to die like the rest: eyes wide and gaping, piss staining their thighs, and blood pooling beneath them.

She struck so quickly, that one fell before the other could pull a weapon and turn it on her. It was so easy, too easy. It was almost disappointing, the way they hit the ground with heavy thuds. Blood bubbled from their necks while they choked, eyes wide and fingers clawing at their skin.

“Didn’t anyone ever warn you about the monsters that lurk in the dark?” She asked, kneeling beside them with her arms draped over her knees. She spoke to them the way a mother might comfort her children after they’d woken from a nightmare. Except this was the last nightmare they would ever have, and it was a vivid reality. Aelin’s lips curved into a wicked grin, the palm of her gloved hand patting the cheek of the man that laid nearest to her. The other merely got a nudge of her boot before she left the room, not bothering to shut the door behind her.

Aelin paused outside of the door, nimble fingers undoing the buttons of her cloak. To remain as silent as possible, she tossed it back into the room behind her. One man had stopped breathing, the other was still gasping and gurgling blood in the back of his throat. She didn’t care. She hoped he was still alive when his comrades found him, hoped he would try to gasp her name between breaths.

The only other thing Aelin wanted out of this mission, besides Rowan safe and in her arms, it was that they all knew who it was they’d chosen to fuck with. It was that they all paced with the anticipation of angering the most vindictive god they could imagine.

Her walk down the hallway was silent. Arobynn had once told her that he only heard her coming when she wanted him to. Even now, there had been several moments in Rowan’s apartment where she’d snuck up on him accidentally, making him startle when she seemed to appear out of thin air. Her favorite pastime at the bureau was giving Lorcan a good shock to his system. It was better than her morning coffee.

It almost made her smile, but the doom and gloom of the day pulled her lips back down. She wasn’t so sure she would be able to walk out of this situation without her hands cuffed behind her back. It would be worth it, she knew. Getting carted off to prison again with Rowan safe and sound was better than the alternative. Any reality where he was safe and alive was better than one where he was cold and dead— even if it meant she spent the rest of her life behind bars. It was a sacrifice she was more than willing to make, one she was ready to take.

The building was old, and everything inside was damp and rusted. It was located where the Avery emptied into the Great Ocean, not too far from the import docks. When they’d been on the roof of the neighboring building, Aelin and Nox had been able to see large import ships unloading their freight with massive cranes. It was a relatively empty part of town, save for the people that worked on the ships. The block this building was on was particularly empty with no foot traffic on the sidewalks. There had been no prying eyes to think anything of the assassin and the thief perched on the rooftop.

The lower she crept into the building, toward the basement where she knew Arobynn liked to keep his prisoners, the air got thicker. Mustier. Harder to breathe. The heavy scent of mildew settled in her lungs, making her lip curl in disgust. It was getting darker, too, the light dim enough that had she not heard someone sneaking her way, she wouldn’t have seen them. Thankfully, there was a quiet squelching of boots at the far end of the hall that gave her enough of a heads up to keep her assailant from getting the drop on her.

So few opponents had ever been a true challenge. At her best, Ansel had been one of the few to really challenge her. Today, though, nobody would be able to go up against her and win. It was that simple. There was too much at stake. Losing a fight with Rowan Whitethorn’s life on the line was non-negotiable.

“I’m feeling generous,” she called out, leaning against the wall between two doors. Her tongue ran over her teeth as the footsteps faltered. The gait was heavy and unfamiliar, but she assumed it would be a male judging by the very faint outline of the body she could see. “If you tell me where Rowan Whitethorn is, I’ll consider letting you live.”

“Are you the witch Arobynn keeps ranting about?” Indeed, the voice had a low, scratchy timbre. Still unfamiliar, but he did confirm that Arobynn was at the head of this. What an idiot.

“Is that what he’s calling me now? A witch?”

“Maybe he said bitch,” the man replied, a chuckle rusty as the pipes in this building falling from his lips. “Either way, he said you didn’t like to get your hands dirty.”

“Must be someone else then.” Since when did she not like to get her hands dirty? It almost made her frown, the complete mischaracterization of her. “Where is he.”

“Arobynn?”

“Or the agent. I’ll find them both either way,” she drawled, flicking her wrist in a smooth motion that had a dagger sliding down into her palm. Aelin flipped the blade in her hand, catching it by the tip and readying herself to send it flying toward her target. By now, her eyes had adjusted to the dark. She could see the man about halfway down the hall, roughly six feet tall with a similar build to what Chaol had been. None of his features were decipherable, but it didn’t matter. In a few seconds time he would have a stunning new accessory through his chest.

“You’ll be dead before you do,” the man taunted, and a delighted, bright laugh exploded from her lips.

“Then you definitely don’t know who I am.” Her words took on a sickly sweet tone as she released the first dagger, sending it hurtling down the hall until it struck home. He was close enough by then that the sound of dagger piercing flesh was the sweet music she would have used during her pre-job ritual. Her latest victim staggered back as she threw a second dagger with her left hand, letting it nail him in his neck. A howl of pain, the climax in her impromptu concert, shook the building as he tripped over his own feet and hit the ground, the crack of his skull a final note to a very short symphony.

~*~

Between four floors, Aelin killed eleven men. None of them were skilled enough with their weapons to be anything more than half rate mercenaries. If she had to guess, Arobynn wanted it to look like he had more bodies than he really did. All of his good assassins were dead, likely at his own hand in the rage of her capture.

Everyone she’d come in contact today suffered. None of them were getting off easy. Her suit was damp in several places, her skin sticky with their blood. Few of them gave her any real information. The last guy she killed had shakily exclaimed that Rowan was in the basement as he soiled himself, the stench of urine proof of his fear. And then she had sliced through his body so many times he’d passed out from the shock and pain before death had claimed him.

It almost scared her how little she felt while she dug her blades into his bones. There was nothing but the crystal clarity that she would walk backwards into hell and take the crown from Hellas himself before she let anyone take Rowan away from her. Her throne would be built of bones, rivers of blood would flow at her feet.

It should have at least startled her, the cold depravity. None of her jobs had ever held such cruel calculation, none of them had ever been more than a paycheck. But she supposed that as soon as Sam had been shot right in front of her, she’d fallen down a slippery slope into a dark and twisted wonderland that she would have never escaped, if it hadn’t been for Rowan. And maybe she wouldn’t come back from this, but at least Rowan would be safe.

The sentiment of his safety ricocheted in her skull as she yanked the last door between her and her love open. It didn’t matter that it squealed so loud it made her ears ache, that she may as well have set off a warning bell to alert Arobynn of her arrival.

The rusted iron door gave way to an unlit alcove with a set of metal stairs that looked precarious enough she was skeptical about them holding her weight. It had been dark everywhere else in shit hole she was carefully navigating, but down here it was even worse. The only light she could see seemed to be coming from somewhere far enough away that it barely illuminated the stairs. If the dark wasn’t perhaps her closest companion, if she was unaware of how to use all her senses to slip through the shadows, Aelin likely would have taken an untimely tumble all the way down to the floor.

Much to her surprise the room seemed mostly empty. There were several wooden crates stacked in the far corner where a green-ish light cast an eerie glow throughout the space. Somewhere, something was dripping from the walls or ceiling. Aelin headed for the crates after pausing to pull new daggers from her boots, her grip tightening around the handle at the prospect of not finding Rowan— or finding him beyond her help.

“I’ve been expecting you,” a voice said, echoing in the damp chamber. Her blood heated immediately, flame sparking in her veins at the sound of Arobynn Hammel’s voice. She squeezed the hilt of her dagger as she rounded the corner, eyes immediately going to the red-haired bastard.

“I’d say you weren’t fully prepared because you didn’t have nearly enough men to keep you safe, Arobynn,” she drawled, giving her knife a loose twirl between her fingers. It was interesting, the way he looked at her like he was seeing a ghost. While he gaped, Aelin shifted her gaze to the left, over to a corner where she finally found him.

Rowan. He was slumped forward in his chair, head hanging at such an odd angle she knew he was unconscious. Blood was dried beneath his nose and at his temple but that was all the visible blood she could see. His usually shiny shoes were scuffed and his jacket was pulling tight over his arms and shoulders. Blue nautical rope had him tightly bound to the arms and legs of the chair, and even from where she stood she could tell his watch was cutting into his skin uncomfortably.

But his chest was still rising and falling while he breathed and, for the most part, he seemed unharmed. Still, she didn’t let the relief flood her body. She didn’t dare give herself an inch over to the other side of that line she toed. There would be no mercy from her today.

“Celaena? Are you ready to come home at last, or have you come to exact your revenge on Agent Whitethorn for locking you up?”

“I’m here to take back what is mine and ensure that you never slither out of your little hole to see the daylight ever again. You know why I’m here.”

“I thought you were in prison,” he rebutted, pushing out of his seat and daring to pace toward her. Aelin cocked her head, appraising the man that had raised her, trained her, made her into a weapon through pain and sorrow. She felt nothing but rage.

“That is bullshit, and you know it.”

“You are not the person I was expecting to see when I took Rowan Whitethorn this afternoon, I can assure you. Why are you here, Celaena? How did you get out?”

It was tricky, dealing with someone so slippery. Workingwith Arobynn always felt greasy, felt like trying to wrangle an eel out of the ocean. If you weren’t careful he would slip through your fingers and disappear into the cracks of the world. To the untrained ear, he sounded genuine. But Arobynn lied, and lied well. He clawed his way to the top of the black market empire, twisting words and half-truths, cunning and vicious. He would always take, and take, and take. While there were many faces he had worn around her, the face of truth was one that he seldom donned. Never did he give an inch. It was where Aelin herself had learned to be so ruthless.

“Why am I here? We can start with Sam, talk about Lysandra, Ansel, Wesley,” her blue eyes flashed up to his face where his stormy gray eyes stayed fixed on her. “We can end with Dorian, and Nehemia, and Chaol, and Aedion. And then I will kill you for trying to take Rowan from me, too.”

There were names she hadn’t listed that still mattered but not quite as much. Her voice had broken over Aedion and Rowan’s names, those thoughts still too fresh in her mind to hold at bay. She hated that she was showing so much emotion to him, yet it was fear that flickered in his gaze at the rage that seeped into every syllable.

“I will take responsibility for Sam. I will take responsibility for taking Agent Whitethorn.” Arobynn paused, his eyes tracing over her features like he was stripping her bare, seeing her heart on her sleeve. Something like amusement twisted his lips into a tight smirk as he looked over his shoulder where Rowan was still unconscious. “The others, I had nothing to do with. Actually, if I didn’t know you so well I would have assumed you broke out and had gone on a little spree of your own.”

“I didn’t touch them,” she hissed.

“I know. Everything about those killings was messy. You haven’t been messy since you were fifteen. Tell me, Celaena, what is it that you’re here to take revenge for?”

“I already told you—“

“Sam was killed because he was going to cross me. I wasn’t going to harm a hair on your head. As for Agent Whitethorn…” Arobynn laughed, dry and twisted as he raked his fingers through his hair. “How did you manage to form such an attachment to the man? Were you not stalking him through the city for months leading up to your arrest?”

“My arrest that you played a significant part in? It was a setup. You know it. I know it. You wanted me dead so that I wouldn’t be a problem after you put that hit out on Sam.”

“I beat them senseless for what they did to you that day,” Arobynn said, his voice like that of a lover as his fingers moved to caress her cheek. Aelin brought a dagger up to the inside of his wrist, positioned the other at the hollow of his throat before he could touch her skin. His hand dropped and slipped back into his pocket.

“I don’t believe you.” And she didn’t. It was a half-truth from him at best. Maybe he had punished them to some degree for trying to end her life that way if he didn’t tell them to do it directly, but she doubted it was any large effort. Or maybe that was why they’d wound up dead. Still, it didn’t matter. He’d taken enough from her.

“Why would I lie to you? What do I have to gain from it? I’ve openly admitted to killing Sam and taking your agent. If I was going to lie, wouldn’t I have started with Sam? I was not expecting you to walk down those stairs, Celaena.” Arobynn’s keys jingled in his pocket when he removed his hand to point toward the stairs. Aelin shook her head, licked her lips and tasted the metallic tang of blood. That didn’t make any sense.

“Stop talking.” It was too much. The sound of his voice, the almond scent that tickled her nose from his close proximity. Arobynn had ruined her life in a thousand ways, had spent the majority of her life manipulating her, and this was no different. Anything he said now were lies so potent she could almost taste them.

“I know you may think me to be your enemy, but I love you. I care for you. Surely you must know that.”

There was a single part of her emotions that she kept under lock and key. Inside that room in her head, there was some part of her that cared for him, too. When her parents were murdered and he’d taken her in, Arobynn had become the only parental figure she would ever truly know. Memories about her parents were few and far between, most of them hazy.

She didn’t remember what they looked like without looking at a photo. Their voices had been lost to time and her memory. There were plenty of interviews of them on the internet, but she refused to indulge herself. It was too haunting to think of them somehow knowing that she was who she was. That, maybe, if she watched those old videos, they would be able to see the blood covering her hands.

Arobynn, though, knew her. He had made her, forged her himself. Everything she knew, he had taught her. There had been moments throughout her life where she thought that, perhaps, he did care. Moments where she had looked up at him and wondered if this was what it was like to have a father. There were days before her training that he’d brushed her hair in front of the fire and read her stories. Some nights he had tucked her into bed and had servants wake her with breakfast.

Then there were the moments where he’d beaten her until she couldn’t push herself off the floor. Moments where he’d broken her hand, her fingers, so that she could use her left hand as well as her right. Moments where he’d seared her skin with a white-hot poker and told her that it would make her stronger to endure the pain. Those were the moments that played over in her mind now. All the pain and trauma he had inflicted upon her rising to the surface, her blood piping hot beneath her skin.

His lips were moving, mouthing that he loved her, that he wasn’t lying to her, but she couldn’t hear a thing. People that loved you didn’t intentionally hurt you. They didn’t beat you within an inch of your life and leave you to suffer through it. They didn’t kill the people you cared about. They didn’t go to such lengths to ensure that you were alone and isolated for the rest of your miserable existence.

“Celaena,” Arobynn said, his hand moving to rest on her shoulder. But the tether keeping her from flying into the void snapped, his use of that name the last nail in his coffin. There was hardly time for her to process the movements of her body, the muscle memory taking over as she drove the dagger between his fourth and fifth ribs.

Arobynn had the audacity to laugh, the sound of disbelief falling heavily from his lips as his hand curled around her shoulder. Aelin didn’t falter, only shoved harder as he staggered backward and collapsed on the floor. Still, he laughed, tears lining his silver eyes that silently began to stream down his temples.

“You have… always just been… a pawn.” Each word was more breathless than the last as they tumbled from his mouth. Despite the gloves she wore, her hands were warm. Blood was seeping through her suit, pulsing into the cracks where her skin was exposed. “It will not… end with… me.”

Aelin’s brow furrowed, torn between wanting questions answered and the overcoming desire to twist the knife further to make him stop talking. It was all he ever did. Lie after lie building doubts in her mind until she questioned her sanity. It was what he was good at.

The knife won out. Her wrist twisted sharply, blade dragging over bone in a reverberation she felt down to her toes. Arobynn’s eyes widened in shock and she knew the pain was not a subtle feeling. Gray eyes scanned her face, a ghost of a smile that would haunt her nightmares pulling at his lips. Aelin gritted her teeth as he took a final, shuddering breath.

She wasn’t sure what she felt as the light faded from his eyes and they went completely glassy. All she knew was that it wasn’t quite relief.

#fafs #fafs20 #far away from sane #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #celaena sardothien #nox owen #i will tag everyone in just a moment #tog #throne of glass #tog fanfic #throne of glass fanfic #tog fic #throne of glass fic #writing #writeblr #true crime

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all! So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

#zhou zishu #prince jin #han ying #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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flying-nightwing · 3 years

Text

Throne of Blood (2/3)

It’s ya local simp back again with the praise/devotion kink sweating out of this series in waterfalls. I set this on three parts, and potentially a bonus chapter *wink wink*.

This is still marked NSFW for the same reasons as part 1, so minors still DNI

Part 1 in masterlist (Bio + pinned)

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader x Roy Harper

Word count: 4919

Warnings: Same as part 1 babes

“I still don’t believe it”

The sky was clear and the sun was high, reflecting on the crystal white of the snow covering the land. A cold wind blew over the western watchtower, reddening Roy’s cheeks in a similar tint to his coat. He looked down to you and grinned.

“Say what you may,” He replied, pulling slightly the string of his bow twice. “I’m hitting that target, darling”

“So smug” You sighed, twirling the arrow in your fingers before handing it to him. “Let’s see, my dear. One chance, gotta hit the mark”

He only winked and armed his bow, carefully drawing his bowstring. He paused there and closed his eyes, feeling the force of the wind and calculating his aiming angles. You could see in the distance the Wayne Kingdom’s guarding post and a small dot pacing around. Roy reopened his eyes and angled his bow to the right, then up. As he breathed out, he let the string go.

First thing you knew, the little dot fell over the ledge of the tower.

“I…” You mumbled, your jaw going just a bit slack. You couldn’t stop staring at the guard post.

“That’s right!” He laughed, pumping his fist in the air. “I told ya I was gonna make it”

“Well, I know to admit when I’m beaten” You sighed again, looking back at him. His eyes were shining with pride and mischief. “How many golds did I owe you again? 4?”

“Mhh, forget the gold” His cold hand trailed up your neck to rest behind your ear, tangled in your hair. “That baffled expression on your face is more than enough to satisfy my ego”

“Are you sure?” You teased further, letting him invade your personal space. “Your ego is pret-ty big sometimes”

“You’re right” He breathed out, rubbing your temple he was so close to you, his lips were almost on yours. “Maybe there is something you could do for me after all”

“Name it” You said, smiling. “I owe you one, after all”

He didn't answer, only closed the short distance between you two. His cold, chapped lips met yours in a soft kiss as his other hand snaked around your waist. You could feel his bow digging into your back, but you didn’t care. Your hands went around his neck to pull him even closer to you, letting him shield you from the harsh wind. He was so warm, you wanted to stay against him for hours more.

“Did we ever do it on the western tower?” He asked as he pulled back to breathe.

“On the south tower, we did” You nodded, panting. “There was also this one time with Jason on the north balc-- Fuck”

Your eyes shut as he bit the skin of your neck, then sucked on it. “So we never did it on this watchtower” He hummed against you. “Right, because that guard definitely had a field glass. But now he can’t spy on us”

“My Lord, my Lady”

You shut your eyes, trying so hard not to snap at the boy. You could never have a moment of intimacy in this castle, it seemed. Roy recomposed himself first, straightening his back and facing him. He didn’t even look shameful or bashful at all, instead, he was pretty relaxed.

“Yes?”

“His Majesty requires your presence in the throne room” He said, his cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment. “It seemed pretty urgent”

You both shared a concerned glance. Without another word, you swerved passed the boy and walked straight to the throne room. You were a bit far, but you believed you set your record on how fast you could cross the entire castle. Your strides were long and purposeful, and your hands were not far from your weapons.

You ended up in the large room sooner than later, your eyes scanning for any imminent danger. Instead, you found a small crowd of seven people in front of the throne’s pedestal. One of the men caught your attention--and everyone else’s probably--by his looks alone. Tall, dark hair, wide blue eyes and one stunning armor. The blue bird on his chest contrasted the black of the armor, sticking out from the silver gray of his guards. His posture was tensed, but not as much as Jason’s on the throne. You and Roy slowly took your place on his side, finally making you be seen by the handsome man. His eyes found Roy first, and they exchanged a long glance. Then, it was your turn. He studied you for a moment before he turned to Jason again.

“Listen, I don’t want any trouble” He said, holding his hands up. “I’m only here to warn you”

“You could have sent another message if it was that important” Jason sneered. So this was his brother.

“Jason, I’m serious” He rubbed his nose. “Father is done and through with this will he won’t he. He is determined to stop you”

“Let him come” He snorted. “I know his every move, Dick. He can’t touch me”

“He knows that,” He argued, frustrated. “That’s why he issued capture warrants for both of them, effective as we speak”

Jason froze as his brother pointed at you and Roy. His face betrayed no emotion, but you knew a sensitive chord had been hit. You didn’t like how his own father tried to hurt him that way, and it made you angry. How dare he try and hurt your Jason.

“He’s not gonna kill us” Roy spoke, but even he had a subtle uncertainty in his voice. The mighty King Wayne didn’t kill, but this moral guideline might have wavered if Jason had pushed him far enough.

“He won’t” Dick replied. “But it doesn’t mean pain won’t be involved”

“If he even tries, I’ll kill him myself” Jason grumbled. “He’s not ready for--”

It happened fast. Your attention was divided in between the two brothers, so much that you failed to do a visual sweep of the room. You missed the two shadows on the higher balcony, or the draw of a bow that was aimed in your direction. It was the quiet sound of the arrow flying through the air that tipped you off, making you turn on the side by instinct to protect yourself. You felt the sharp steel of the tip pierce your shoulder--instead of your heart--and you fell on your knee. Before you could touch the ground, Roy fired and dropped the two shadows from the balcony before they could shoot anyone else. In a blink, Jason was over you and Dick was barking orders to his men to stand down.

Then came your scream of pain.

“Hey, hey, look at me” Jason called, bringing your attention to him. Your breathing was shallow and you wanted to pass out from the pain. You could feel the arrow tear and burn your flesh at every muscle contraction, and the hot blood slowly and steadily flow down your back. “You’ll be okay. Don’t pass out just yet, stay with me”

“I’m sorry” You rasped out in between two shallow breaths. You were pretty sure the arrow had been barbed by the pain that was pulsing through your entire upper body. "I didn't see him sooner. That was a rookie mistake"

“No, this is on me, not you” Jason’s beautiful face was twisted with guilt. “I-- I didn’t see him, I should have known-- Fuck”

His hands started trembling around the arrow he was holding steady. His hands were red already and you were getting drowsy; you had no more feeling in your right hand already, your entire arm hanging limp from your body. Black dots veiled your vision that was becoming blurry by the second, only dissipated for an instant when Roy appeared in front of you.

“Dick and Commander Garret got it” He told Jason before holding your head in his hands, forcing you to focus your attention on him. “You’ll be fine, but we need to move you. It’s gonna hurt. A lot”

“Can’t be worse” You joked, your voice slightly slurred and your smile resembling a grimace more than anything else. His expression turned sorry while he offered you back a pity smile. Oh, it would be a lot worse.

And he was right. They lifted you easily, both their strength more than enough to support you, and carefully made their way to the side room. You bit your cheek hard enough to draw blood so you wouldn't scream again with every step they took. There, with one swipe of his arm, Jason threw everything off the stone table in the middle of the room, sending flying some probably priceless items on the floor. He didn’t care. They laid you face down, then rushed to stop the blood flow.

“The doctor is on her way” You heard Roy say as you felt fabric pressed around the shaft of the arrow. You tuned in and out of the conversation, unable to keep focus on their voices for more than a few seconds at the time. A nap seemed so good right now.

“How did we not see them--”

“Don’t start blaming yourself again--”

“Well, it’s pretty much my fault if--”

“Jay, we are your guards, we knew--”

“Still! I’m the one who’s supposed to--”

“If you want me to take out this arrow, you’ll need to stop arguing and start helping me--”

“Yes ma’am”

“Sorry ma’am”

Some doctor she was. If only you could see their faces. You felt them working around you, something cold on your skin, followed by the arrow being pulled out of your shoulder. At this point, everything felt the same. Your pain was just everywhere, but now you knew at least the arrow was out. You heard the doctor shoo out Jason and Roy, then you passed out.

---

The tremble in Jason’s hands went away when Roy closed the door of the room behind them. His eyes turned as hard as steel as he faced the throne room, and without looking back, went straight for it. All heads in the room turned at the sound of him coming in again, and he had an idea why they kept staring. Your blood was still on his arms, reddening his skin up to the elbow. His hair was a mess and his eyes read violence. He stopped in front of the still moving body of one of the assassins. Roy’s arrow went through his cheek, but he was still alive. He glanced briefly at the other body, still with two arrows in the throat, then back to the one at his feet. Nobody else dared to move, not Roy, not his brother, not the guards around him watching the scene unfold in front of them.

Roy had a similar posture. Despite shooting in a reflex, his rage had left him guide his aim in the fire of the action. He had known in that split second that the man who fired the arrow didn’t deserve a quick death, that an arrow to the chest like his friend would be a mercy. Instead, he had gone for the painful shot that would leave him alive for the wolf the devour. Besides, it wouldn’t have been fair for Roy to have them both to himself.

Jason bent down and grabbed the man by the back of the neck, dragging him along with him. The man couldn’t talk, only moan in pain as he was forced to follow Jason’s angry pace. Roy wasn’t far behind, eager to see what would happen next. Jason wasn’t a predictable man, especially not when angry. And now, it would be an understatement to say he was furious.

Jason dragged the man through the room, then out of the castle and across the stone bridge. He stopped only when he was out of the fortified gates, where the towns citizens passing by eyed the scene with horror. A crowd gathered around, and Jason waited until there were enough people around to speak. He must have looked insane like this, bloody and disheveled, unhinged and on the edge. He usually wouldn’t have gone in public like this, but he needed to pass a message.

“This man has committed a crime against the crown” He began, and silence fell over the crowd. The man writhed in his hand, but he was too weak to escape the iron grip on his neck. “He snuck into the castle and attempted to kill my personal guard and advisor under a mandate issued by a neighboring Kingdom. If anyone has any idea to follow in his footsteps, this is what will happen. No one trying to claim the bounty will end up any better than him. Somebody fetch me a rope. A sturdy one”

It didn’t take time for one of the guards to come back with a thick rope and give it to him. He kicked the man down and held him there with his foot, ignoring his moans of pain as he worked on a noose. He looped it around the man’s neck and pulled him back on his feet. The sound of his sword sliding out of its sheath was deafening, and even more so the footsteps he took to stand in front of the man.

“Death is too kind for your crime” He muttered. “But it’s what you’ll get today, because I don’t want to see your face ever again. Tell the devil I said hi when he pulls out your guts”

With a quick movement of his sword, he sliced his stomach deep enough for his insides to spill on the pavement. Jason stood there, watching him for a minute before he walked away. He only paused when he was shoulder to shoulder with his guard.

“Hoist him up the gate” He instructed, but there was no place for arguments and the boy knew it. “So he can serve as an example for the rest of them”

Then he kept walking.

---

“Your progress is impressive”

You looked up from the gourd you were drinking from, your chest still rising quickly after the effort you just made. You had stopped outside a little road town and set camp in the woods. Like always, you’d take an hour or two to train with Jason. You had a lot to learn to even get close to an acceptable gap between your skills and theirs, but they were patient with you.

“Thanks” You nodded as you closed the gourd again. Night was setting in soon, announcing the end of today’s training session.

“I think you are ready to choose a weapon of your own” He said as he put back his sword in its sheath. “One’s choice of weapon is personal, and it can be quite telling about its wielder”

“Choose a bow and arrows” Roy called as he came back from the woods, dinner in hand. He had caught four rabbits and a bird. “There’s nothing quite like it”

“See, Roy chose a bow,” Jason explained further. “This tells us that he’s an idiot”

You laughed as Roy rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “Ha ha” He laughed dryly. “You’d look like a clown if I wasn’t your long shot”

“I’m not gonna choose a bow” You shook your head, chuckling. “I’ll leave the exclusivity to you”

You turned around as they kept bickering, looking over to the small bunch of weapons your party carried. Swords, curved blades, barbed sticks and one sharp looking spear were staring back at you, but nothing caught your eyes. That was until you spotted the two bodies laying a few paces away from your camp, reminding you of the two mercenaries who tried to ambush you earlier to catch the reward for your heads. Tried being the keyword, because the two amateurs had no idea who they went up against. Despite their sharp battle axes, they were taken down in a blink. You wandered toward them and picked up the two weapons beside them, then came back.

“I want these ones”

They both turned to you, surprised by your choice. Jason stepped closer to you, gently pushing up your arm so he could have a good look at one of the axes. The double edge was kept sharp, and it seemed balanced. He looked back at you.

“Those are quite heavy weapons. Warrior type, devastating things” He hummed. “You need quite some strength to wield them precisely and inflict damage. Are you sure?”

“You think I can’t do it?” You raised your eyebrow in challenge. He smiled.

“Oh no, I know you can do it. I even think the axes will suit your style” He chuckled, holding your stare. “All I’m saying is you’ll need to put the work into it”

“I’m ready” You lifted your chin up. “I don’t want to feel powerless ever again”

“With these, you won’t” Roy said as he passed behind you. You could just hear the grin in his voice. “Whoever will stand in your way will have no idea what came for them”

---

Jason already hated meetings, but this one had been particularly long. Not only because he was worried for you, but because he was alone. Roy was with you, making sure nobody got to you while you recovered, which left Jason off to bear the entire meeting without at least his favourite people by his side. But it was crucial for him to be there, because it was when he decided the counter offensive to adopt. His troops had been sent across the border, blocking all the roads to his territory. No army could march in without being met with resistance. He was well aware he was escalating the tensions tenfold by doing that, but his father deserved everything that would come his way.

The sky was cloudy, but the weather was nice for winter. He stepped outside, spotting the man in black and blue observing the frozen garden with little interest. At the sound of Jason approaching, Dick faced him.

“Well, you got a grip of yourself quicker than I expected” He hummed, noticing the lack of blood on his hands and his combed hair. He had changed to his black and red armor, leaving behind more formal wear for the time being. “I’m surprised”

“Don’t be” Jason snorted as the two men began slowly walking side by side. “I am aware I have a duty that I must do, no matter what happens”

Dick eyed him without commenting on that matter. “I suppose I am not allowed to leave just yet”

Jason smiled without humor. “That’s right”

“You know I could easily escape on my own”

“And you know if you did I would drag you back here by the neck”

“Obviously” Dick rolled his eyes. “What about my men?”

“Escorted out of my territory with the soldiers who are heading east” He replied.

“Why are you doing this?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Why, to make our dear father sweat a little” He shrugged. “His golden son close enough for me to strike down quickly if he even thinks of pulling that shit again”

Dick remained quiet for a moment, his head down. He was aware his brother was watching him, looking for any sign of guilt or responsibility in that matter. “You know I would have never let those men tag along with me, right?”

“Do I, now?” Jason hummed. “They used your presence here to sneak in. I’m sure you know how this looks like”

“Jason” Dick sighed. “I don’t want to see you fall. I might not agree with some things you do, but there is a reason I came here to warn you”

He didn’t answer.

“Besides, I would have never tried to hurt the woman you love. I wouldn’t have done that to you” He added. “To you and to Roy”

Jason’s head snapped up, his wide eyes setting on Dick. How did he know?

“It’s quite obvious. Both your reactions were one of love, and there is clearly no competition between you two. It wasn’t very subtle” Dick explained. “And no, you did not say that out loud, but your face did. You forget sometimes I know you both better than you want to admit it”

Jason sighed. Of course, Dick would see it instantly. It’s not like he was ashamed of his relationship, on the contrary, his staff already knew it all about it judging by the number of times they barged on them in compromising situations and he did not worry about them knowing. But he knew decorum frowned upon it and a lot of people who already had something against him would only use it to further their case. He wanted to protect his family more than anything.

“You’re lucky to have them, and they’re lucky to have you” Dick spoke again after a moment. “I hope she’ll be okay”

“I hope she’ll be too, for your sake” Jason turned serious again.

“What does that mean?” He grew wary, straightening his back. Keeping him here was one thing, and he’d quietly stay if it could appease his brother to have him somehow prisoner, but he wasn’t sure he’d accept being threatened.

“Whether or not it was voluntary, you brought those opportunists here” Jason didn’t back down. “If she doesn’t make it, I will rain hellfire on everything Bruce loves, starting by his most prodigal son”

The two men stared at each other in confrontation, shoulders squared and the tension so tight it could be cut with a knife. And that knife was apparently named Roy.

“I think it won’t be necessary,” Roy said carefully, breaking the heavy silence. “She has been awake for a few hours, the doctor is changing her bandages. You should go see her”

Jason looked in between both men, then nodded at Roy. “I guess you two have things to talk about. I’ll leave you to it”

He walked away without looking back, and instead focused his thoughts on you. His feet guided him to the infirmary while his mind was far away from this reality, spiraling down what ifs and worst case scenarios. He paused in front of the door, then knocked and pushed the door open.

“Ah, King Jason” The doctor greeted as she washed her hands. “Just on time. I’ll leave you two in a second”

“Is she okay?” He asked.

“Ask her yourself” She smiled before wiping her hand on a rag and leaving.

You blinked slowly as the voices registered around you. You were feeling tired, but you wanted to stay awake a bit longer to speak to him as well. Roy had spent the majority of the day with you, well past sundown. You turned your head and smiled at him, easing just a bit of concern off his handsome features.

“Hey” Your voice was weaker than usual, and you had no doubt you looked paler too. According to the doctor, it was possible to make a full recovery if nothing got infected before the wound healed at least a little bit. She’d have to check in inflammation as well, but it looked not so bad so far.

Jason couldn’t help but smile back as he reached you and sat on the chair left beside the bed. He brushed hair away from your forehead with the back of his hand, relieved he couldn’t feel the heat of a fever coming out of you. “How are you feeling?”

“Just peachy” You chuckled, then flinched at the pain in your shoulder. “Ow”

“Take it easy” He soothed, caressing your uninjured shoulder. His touch was so comforting, you wished he’d never take his hand away. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner”

"S'okay" You replied. “I know you must have had a lot to do after this shit show”

“Still” He sighed. “I should have just--”

“Don’t start blaming yourself” You frowned. “None of this was your fault. I don’t want to see this expression on your face anymore, now”

He snorted. “Roy said the same thing, you know?”

“Well, he was right” You smirked. “You should listen to him sometimes”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “Of course you choose this time to gang up on me”

“I dreamed about you” You changed the subject before he could find a new way to blame himself. “Well, I don’t know if it was a dream or a vivid display of a memory. Everything was too hazy to make the distinction”

“What was it about?” He asked, rubbing his thumb in circles on your shoulder.

“When I chose my axes” You answered. “It’s a good memory. It did make me feel better”

“If I recall correctly, it was also the first night I kissed you” His tone turned teasing. “First night Roy kissed you as well. Beside the fire as the summer began, right after wiping out the guild members on the edge of the Kingdom of Blüdhaven”

“Hmm, I recall we did more than just kiss”

The soft glow of the fire, three naked bodies intertwined as they moved in sync, breathless moans and wandering hands. Jason had to chase that perfect picture away from his mind before it could lead him somewhere inappropriate for the situation, no matter how he wanted to close his eyes again and let the memory play out in full. You did it on purpose, he knew that much, probably to cheer him up or pull his mind further away from the less than pleasant reality.

“You’re going to kill me one day” He grunted, and you let out a little laugh, careful not to pull your stitches. Your hand found his and you squeezed it lightly, making him look down briefly at your locked fingers. He took a deep breath and sighed longly.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Doesn’t matter” He shook his head, but you didn’t back down your stare. Finally, he caved. “The assassins. They’re dead, and the one that did this to you is… Well”

You could only imagine his death was nothing short of horrible and painful. You didn’t know if finding satisfaction in this made you a terrible person, but you took comfort in the fact that he suffered more than you did. You only wished you had been there to see it.

“But my father, I…” He gulped. “He’ll know what happened here. If he strikes, which will be most likely the case, I’ll need to be ready. He won’t take you, not on my watch”

“I won’t let him take me, or Roy for that matter, away from you” You reassured him. “I’ll be out of this bed in no time and back at your side, just watch”

A small smile stretched his lips. “Always the warrior spirit” He leaned down and kissed your head. His lips lingered on your skin and your eyes fluttered close to prolonged contact. “But you’ll need to take it slow to recover. You need not to rush for me”

“I’ll always rush for you, my King”

You noticed the hitch in his breath and the adoration in his eyes. The crystal shine of tears gave them an innocent glow, one you rarely observed on his face but appreciated every single time you had the chance to. It was easy to forget how young he actually was under all the weight that has been put onto him, he always seemed so much older and stern. You reached your hand for his face despite every single of your muscle screaming against it, and he leaned into your touch, softly closing his eyes. He allowed himself to relax just then, finally convincing himself that you would be okay. You had this gift with him, how you always managed to sneak into his heart and mind and bring him peace. He had been bewitched from the moment he met you, he had known right then and there he was already yours. And the fact that this connection transferred so easily to Roy, that you could make equal space in your heart for both of them only amplified his affection for you. You were their missing piece, and he would do anything--anything for you.

“How did I get so lucky?” He whispered, gently taking your hand on his cheek and kissing it.

“It’s not luck” You smiled. “You took care of me when I needed you the most, I’m only returning the favor however I can”

“She’s quite a woman, isn’t she?”

You and Jason looked up at the new voice joined in, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at Roy’s wide grin. He walked closer and gave Jason’s shoulder a little squeeze, sitting on the arm of his chair. Your shoulder hurt but now that you had them by your side, everything seemed better.

“So, what are we going to do now?” He asked, eying you both. Jason took a deep breath, repeating Roy’s question in his head a few times. He didn’t have much time to think about something concrete, but it wasn't the ideas that were missing.

“Well, this seems to me as a pretty clear declaration of war” He said, slowly trailing his eyes from yours to Roy’s. “We should react accordingly, don’t you think?”

“Hit ‘em hard and fast at the source, won’t matter if they see it coming or not” Roy nodded in approbation. “This is what you were thinking, right?”

A sinister smirk appeared on Jason's lips. It was thrilling and frightening all the same, promising a terrible retribution. “My loves, we’re going to war”

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butwhyduh · 3 years

Text

Out of the darkness

Damian Wayne x reader

Part 2 of In the Darkness

Warning: a bunch of different phobias explored. Like a bunch. It’s fear toxin and things are bad. 🤷🏻‍♀️

Damian Wayne was practical, classic, precise. He could tell you the time within 20 minutes of the actual time and the direction you were facing no matter where you were. He didn’t believe in getting lost. He mastered Bartok - Violin Concerto No. 2 on the violin at 11. He could identify the origin and use every weapon in the bat cave and many others as well. He many martial arts as well as having a impeccable eye for important details. Damian excelled at many things due to his training from birth to be the best he could.

Poison training and identifying was something that started early. His mother would slip tiny amounts of different chemicals in his food and drinks for him to build up a tolerance. Fear toxin was one of many that he’d developed a fairly high tolerance to. It was a deeply unpleasant experience and the training stopped immediately when Bruce took Damian in. Bruce had been completely horrified.

Currently Damian was half cognizant. He slipped between nightmares and the reality of the situation that wasn’t much better. He was strapped on a table in a cold concrete room. His head hurt and his feet were ungodly cold.

Damian attempted to focus. This is fake. The monsters are fake. I am in this room, he forced. He controlled his breathing as he was taught. His mind cleared long enough to slip from the ties. They were amateur at best. Damian pulled his legs free and he tried to stand.

The room spun and the ground grew heavy. Damian slipped to the ground with a groan. This particular batch of fear toxin was potent. Or was continuously streaming in. He searched for a vent. Top right corner. There wasn’t any green mist falling from it but it could be invisible. Damian steeled himself and stood up to walk to the door.

He tried the knob but it melted apart in his hand like sticky honey on a hot day. Damian gagged a little before trying to push the door open. No luck. The walls began to move inward. He was going to be crushed in the tiny space as it grew smaller.

No.

It was fake.

He tried the knob again and it didn’t turn but it didn’t turn into goo. The wall wasn’t collapsing inward. He could escape. He just needed to work on it.

Your scream pierced his ears and he gasped. He had to save you now. He could hear you through the vent. He could use the vent.

Was it really you, his mind questioned as he shoved the old metal hospital bed towards the wall. The metal groaned before scraping the floor. Damian had no way of knowing if it was really you or his mind.

Damian climbed on the bed and grasped at the grate. The old metal bolts bit into his fingers as he twisted them out. Finally the grate fell on the bed. If Damian did a little jump, he could probably pull himself upwards. It was a blessing and a curse that he had grown so much in a relatively short time. He was pushing 6 foot tall and could reach the grate but weighing 180 lbs, could it hold him?

A menacing laugh filled the air and Damian froze in fear.

He turned to look around and was still alone.

But you might not be.

He jumped up and slid in the air conditioner duct. It was a tight fit. Damian was still smaller than his dad and at the moment was grateful. Bruce would have never fit. Of course, Drake could have slipped through easily. He pushed those thoughts aside.

Damian had no phone. No flash light. Complete darkness. He couldn’t turn around. He was just snaking his way towards the sound he heard of your voice. If it was even you.

It was you.

You were strapped to a hospital bed with leather belts. The material chafed your skin as you tried to yank away. You screamed for Damian. His name fell pitifully from your lips. You’d have no previous experience with any fear toxin and your first instinct was to scream. You could feel the way each scream ripped at your throat.

Damian had told you about his older brother, Father’s ward as he would say when mad. An old warehouse, murdered by the joker but punished with fear toxin first. Jason Todd talked in a smoker’s rasp. He didn’t smoke but the constant screaming had ruined his throat. You could feel the pain in your vocal cords but couldn’t stop.

The Manor was fake. The family there was fake. The room you currently lay in was real. Far too real. The damp musty air and bone trembling cold felt perfectly real.

The spiders crawling on your skin felt real too. You shrieked and tremors shook your body as you tried to throw them off. Tiny hairy legs brushed against your arms. Your face. You clamped your mouth and eyes closed.

If they climbed in your mouth... if they bit you... if they were poisonous. If the manor was fake and this room was real.... the spiders were real.

Damian cursed when you went silent. What direction was he traveling. How far was it till your room? Were you even here? No. He couldn’t think like that. He was already barely above a panic as the vent felt way too small, too tight.

Your violent struggles had one good side effect. The badly placed straps came loose. One hand yanked free and you scrubbed at your face, feeling no real spiders. You untied yourself other hand and tried to get up.

The bed shook and you panicked as you tried to pull your feet free. Cold icy laughter filled your ears and you clenched at your head to keep them out. You pulled free and fell to the floor. Icy water soaked through the knees of your pants and you shivered.

The room was so dim that you could barely see anything as you crawled on the floor. There was no way you could handle standing up. You slid your hands along the ground, touching bits of broken glass and small rocks. They bit into your palm and knees as you moved along. You felt along before feeling nothing. A drop.

You yanked your body back. The floor fell out smoothly. There was nothing in front of you. You grabbed a small stone and tossed it to hear the depth. You concentrated on listening and heard nothing. No sound? You tossed another to hear a similar lack of sound. The hole must be incredible deep.

You slowly slid backwards and turned to your right. Perhaps the hole wasn’t everywhere. You had to get out. You took about 10 paces forward? Maybe. It’s hard to tell when you keep hearing wings fluttering. The ground also stopped with an abrupt fall. The hole must be massive. You crawled back to the bed. It was the only thing visible in the dim light from a high dirty window.

The flapping sounds grew louder and you could almost hearing the fluttering of birds, no bats, right near your ears. You shrieked and swung your arms out to stop them. You could imagine little teeth and claws tearing at your skin. This seemed to make them furious and they hit and nipped your skin. You covered your head with your hands and cried out for Damian.

He heard your pitiful cry. He was going in the right direction. He hurried along the vent. He had no weapon. He was poisoned with fear toxin. And he had no idea what the location looked like. He was also completely blind in the dark vent. Father would have called this unfavorable odds indeed.

The vent took a slight turn and Damian gasped as something dug into his hand. He felt at it with his other hand. A thin metal cylinder connected to a large plastic cylinder that flared out. A syringe. He had a syringe in his hand. Ignoring the disease potential, it really showed how little he could see.

Damian’s hands shook as he pulled the needle from his flesh and he stifled a groan. He had no way of wrapping his hand. He also had another problem: feel for more syringes or turn around and go back to the room where he would be trapped once again. He grimaced before reaching his hand out slowly. There were more syringes. This time he didn’t get stabbed. He grabbed them and pushed them behind his body before slowly pushing forward. This was taking too long.

If you fell in the pit, not even Damian could save you. You felt like you were on a ledge. The world was pushing you to the hole. You grasped the frame of the bed tightly. Your grip on sanity was getting looser and you clung to the idea that Damian had to rescue you. He would fix things.

Damian could no longer slowly feel his way through. The vent felt tighter and hotter and harder to breath in. He was panting and he began crawling faster. You were definitely in trouble the way you were practically crying for him. Syringes bit at his skin in little nicks before one sunk into the flesh of his thigh right above his knee. Damian groaned and yanked it out.

But luck was in his side as he started to see light. The vent opened to another room. Barely visible was a bed and a figure on it. It had to be you crying. Your body shook as you bent over your legs, your head in your hands.

Damian pushed open the vent roughly and jumped in the room.

He was with the League of Assassins. Damian was a small boy again. He fell to his knees as his grandfather held a sword under his throat. Damian was powerless. Tears streamed down his face despite himself.

“You are only alive at my leisure,” Ra’s told him. Damian held back tears as he stared at the older man. “You are a disgrace and I intend to beat it out of you.”

The blade was removed and a boot replaced it. Damian was kicked to the ground and the older man kicked him in the ribs and stomach. He cried out involuntarily. His nose was broken. Sticky warm blood flowed into his open mouth as he sucked in a breath. Damian’s mother stood to the side, watching passively.

This isn’t real. It isn’t real. It’s a bad memory. Fear toxin just fear toxin.

Damian took several deep breaths; quite difficult when he felt the breaking of his ribs. He opened his eyes to see the room. And you crying in the bed. He moved on the bed to grab you.

“Don’t,” you cried as you pulled away. Your pupils were blown and he could see your chest rise and fall heavily.

“It’s me. Damian. I won’t hurt you. I’m here to save you,” he said trying to be gentle. His own heartbeat was flying and he kept hearing the laughter of the Joker that he was 80% sure was fake.

You looked at him warily. Once sure that it was Damian, you flung your arms around him.

“There’s a hole. In the middle of the room. It has to be huge,” you said quickly. You shook like a leaf.

“A pit. Smart,” Damian commented. He really wished he had his night vision goggles. He couldn’t see anything more than a foot from the bed.

There was the sounds of screaming and fighting outside the door. A door. He could finally see a door. It must skirt right next to the edge of this damn pit. How could he get you to carefully walk around it when you were so lost in the toxin?

“I found a door. We have to go. I’ll help you. I’ll help,” he said trying to stand. You grasped at him tighter.

“No! The pit. The pit. You’ll fall. Don’t,” you pleaded, shaking your head side to side violently.

“It’s okay. We’ll be careful. We’ll be okay,” he said before pulling you up. Damian bent to the ground and started crawling. You grasped at the back of his shirt tightly. “We’ll go slow.”

Damian tried to ignore the feeling that he was on a ledge about to fall. Which was weird since he literally jumped from rooftops all the time. He never had fear of heights. You shivered and clung to him. The gaping hole seemed to want to swallow you whole. What was at the bottom? Would you fall forever, scraping at the slick walls until you lost your mind? Would you die quickly? Or was it a slow death as your broken body fell apart?

Damian edged you to the door and prayed that it was unlocked. It wasn’t but the knob was loose. He rolled his eyes and easily pulled it apart. He tossed it in the hole and couldn’t help but listen for the sound of it crashing. It never came. Was it a hole to infinity? He couldn’t think that way. He pulled you into the hallway. It was dimly lit but enough to stand up.

He was back at the League. He was not a little boy any more. His grandfather was on his deathbed. He grabbed Damian’s hand unnaturally tightly. Damian could see the gold and green clothing on his own arm.

“I knew you couldn’t leave. You were always my flesh and blood. Now you will lead the assassins. Your time with your father couldn’t break you from your true self. You’re an assassin. Why try to pretend to be something else? You will always be a killer,” the old man chuckled.

Damian yanked his hand free. “You’re wrong. I’m nothing like you,” he growled and wrapped his fingers around his grandfather’s throat. The old man held Damian’s wrists and pushed his hand harder against his windpipe. He had an awful grin on his face despite being choked.

Suddenly smaller softer hands gripped Damian’s wrists and tried to pull back. Tried to pull him off. Damian saw your lips make a small o as you tried to breathe. He dropped his hands instantly and you gasped in a breath. Damian’s hands ran along your face worried he had killed you.

No...Just a bruise. He could have.

He could have killed you.

He had to get you out. Was this real? Was anything real? Damian felt his grip on reality loosen. He grabbed your hand to pull you along but you almost fell over. Damian put his arm around your waist and half carried you along.

It wasn’t long until his legs began to shake from your extra weight and Damian was panting. Normally he could carry you around with no problem but hours? Days? of fear toxin had him absolutely exhausted. The only thing he was certain of was that it was night. Was it the same night as the movie? That felt weeks ago.

He powered through to a set of double doors. He was almost gasping for breath. Damian kicked them open with his foot and he was blinded by light.

It wasn’t night.

It was a well lit warehouse and there was a battle being fought. Batman kicked a guy in a ski mask to the ground and he didn’t get up. Nightwing swooped in and wrapped a rope around a guy who ended up hanging from the ceiling by his leg before he could react. Damian couldn’t see but hear Red Hood kick someone off the second floor delivery dock before the sound of gunshot.

He almost dropped you as he slid down the wall to the floor. You fell against him and gasped. Your eyes showed that you weren’t really there. You were still fighting the poison that threatened to pull Damian back under. You both were so vulnerable just sitting there. He knew he should move but his body just couldn’t.

Red Robin jumped down from a box with his staff in hand. He walked close and Damian looked away when his face split into a gaping blackness. It was fake. It was fake. It was only Drake.

“Hey buddy,” Red Robin said gingerly, walking slowly towards you both. He pulled out a small black leather bag. He pulled out a syringe and Damian wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He couldn’t get up but he tried to shield you.

“Don’t,” Damian tried to say with authority but it came out so softly. He couldn’t protect you. He failed.

“It’s okay. You just need to sleep. You’ll be okay,” Drake said. He popped off the syringe cover and grabbed Damian’s waving arm and gave him the shot despite his groans. Drake pulled out another syringe and gave one to you. You shrieked as you imagined a poison was being shoved into your skin. A green mark spread like tree branches beneath your skin and you clawed at your skin. In just a minute your hands dropped and you both fell asleep.

——————————

You woke in a med bay. A plain hospital bed in a cave. Damian was in the bed next to you and you quickly sat up.

“Slow,” said a woman. She offered a hand and you pulled away. “Don’t fall.”

Damian stirred and sat up too. He took a look at you and the woman and relaxed. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath. You looked at them warily. You’d thought you’d gotten out once.

“It’s done,” he said.

“Yes. You are safe,” she said.

“Cass, where is everyone? What happened?”

“Hold on,” she said motioning for you both to sit. She came back with none other than Bruce Wayne. Normally you would very nervous but you were too tired to care.

“How are you feeling?” He asked walking in to sit on the single chair in the room. Cass left the room. After he was sure that you were physically fine, he explained what happened.

“Scarecrow attacked Wayne tower. Luckily Batman was able to help find you both. It was fear toxin. It can make you see some really nasty things. I have a psychologist that specializes in childhood trauma in retainer. I’d highly suggest you both visit them. But you are safe. You’ve been given antitoxin. Do you have any questions?” He asked. His voice was even and purposefully soft. You shook your head. You were too overwhelmed to consider a single question.

“Did Batman catch Scarecrow?” Damian asked leaning his body over his bent knees. His face had one of his murderous looks. You noticed bandages on his fingers and across one palm. He had a thigh wrapped in gauze.

“No. Not yet.”

Damian’s hands curled into fists. “I hope he does.”

“Of course. Relax. Watch some television. I’ve already contacted your parents that you will be staying here for a few days. I’ll let you take the lead on what to tell them when you go home and I’ll help with any conversation,” Bruce said standing up. He stood by the doorway before leaving. “I’m glad you are both back home safe.”

Damian turned on something on the television mindlessly and sat stiffly in his bed. There was too much space and you felt alone. After a few minutes, you couldn’t help it but climb in his bed and slide into his arms. You hugged him tightly and he slung an arm over you. His eyes never left the show but you could feel him relax. You relaxed a little more. His hand ran across your back soothingly. For you or him, you couldn’t know. After a while you fell asleep on him. His heartbeat soothed the nightmares running through your mind.

Robin was gone for all of 3 days before being seen on the streets of Gotham. He hit harder and was more vicious. He found Scarecrow within 12 hours and almost beat him to death. The villain laid in Arkham in a coma for over a month.

#Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne angst #batboys #Robin x reader #Robin

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beautifulterriblequeen · 3 years

Text

Moonberry Wishes (Ruthari Week 2021 #2)

Pairing: Ruthari

Rating: T

Tags: post-coin Runaan, Runaan pulls an Eljaal, belated reunion, angry Ethari, all the feels, angst, fluff, i missed you, toppy Ethari, Runaan is never gonna be ready to hear about Rayllum

Prompt: Leaving/Returning

Moonberry Wishes

The clang of sword on shield snapped Runaan out of his morning meditation. His eyes opened on the now-familiar view of the rocky slopes of eastern Duren, their golden stone bleached with early morning sunlight. Squinting against the light, Runaan tracked the sound of battle, snatched up his bowblade, and hurled himself off the high stone ledge where he’d made secure camp the night before. The descent to the narrow pass a few hundred meters below wasn’t difficult for one with his skills, and he leaped easily from boulder to boulder as he descended past the timber line toward the old trade road.

The faint flicker of a small cooking fire at the edge of the road caught his eye as he targeted a cluster of figures at the far edge of the road. Someone had camped there in the night, and he hadn’t heard a thing! The assassin tossed his confusion aside and leaped down, skidding dramatically through a cloud of fine pale dust shot through with angled sunbeams, expecting the attackers to turn and run, or possibly turn and stare. To acknowledge his arrival, at the very least--he was a Moonshadow elf, and making himself known on purpose was a rare treat.

But no one did. Not even the traveler he’d rushed in to rescue. The man stood still, his back to Runaan, the hood of his cloak pulled up.

Runaan blinked mid-skid and reassessed, fingers tense on his bowstring.

Half a dozen bandits had clearly attempted to besiege this man. Yet three of them lay sprawled in the dust already, and one hung by his belt from a broken tree limb three meters off the ground. As Runaan skidded in, another bandit got shoved backward through the air and plopped into a muddy patch in the woods with a squelch.

Runaan sought the last bandit as he battled his surprise. He seemed to have found the one human who could hold his own as well as an assassin against half a dozen attackers. He finally spotted the greasy man when his head rose up over the traveler’s hood, caught in the would-be victim’s grip as he was bodily lifted into Runaan’s line of sight by the front of his shirt. The traveler’s other arm dropped to his side, revealing a small round silvery shield strapped to his forearm.

Runaan reassessed again, casting his gaze around the small campsite, seeking clues as to who this strange paradox of a person was.

The traveler had camped in the most foolish location, right where any passing rogue could find him. Yet he’d somehow managed to set up his camp silently in the night. He carried no sword, but he’d bested half a dozen desperate humans with a small shield. His campfire was expertly laid, but the aroma that rose from it was one of stewing fruits.

Runaan’s eyes narrowed. He suddenly doubted that this stranger had ever needed his help at all.

“I have a question for you,” the traveler huffed to his captive, catching his breath from their quick scuffle. “And if you answer me truthfully, you can be on your way.” His voice was soft velvet over cold steel, and its gentle brogue stabbed Runaan in the gut with an icicle made of all the frozen feelings he’d tried to ignore for nearly a year.

The world telescoped around him, streaking past his vision with dizzying speed. His freedom from the coin, his shame and uncertainty over failing half his mission, the strange sense of mourning he felt over feeling his blood oath breaking with his supposed death, his decision to wander in search of new purpose instead of returning home and learning he’d been ghosted. His honor had always been vital to his identity, and he hadn’t been ready to face the risk of having it stripped away despite his best and most dutiful intentions. Three seasons had passed since he’d turned his boots toward the west, and not one step had landed on Xadian soil.

But apparently Xadia had grown tired of waiting for him. This stranger was no human. This stranger didn’t sound like a stranger, either.

Runaan’s breath burst from his mouth in a single disbelieving gasp. “Ethari?”

The traveler dropped his bandit like a discarded cloak and spun to face Runaan. His silvery shield thudded to the dirt unheeded. Warm brown eyes blazed out at the errant assassin from beneath a dark blue hood edged with locks of long black hair, and his dark skin was unmarked by blue Moonshadow paint. He also sported five fingers on each hand.

Runaan let out a soft grunt of pain. This man wasn’t his--

The traveler’s mouth fell open in surprise at the sight of the Moonshadow before him. A quick hand flicked back his hood, and a pale shimmering spell rippled across his body.

Runaan’s eyes widened even further.

The Moon spell danced around the traveler’s hidden features, revealing elf horns, cheek markings, shoulder swirls. His black hair became shaggy and white, and his eyes warmed to a soft sunset, just as wide as Runaan’s were.

The elves stared at each other in shock. To the side, the discarded bandit scrambled to his feet and hesitantly edged away, his gaze darting between the safety of the forest and the big elf who had flicked him aside.

“Never mind,” Ethari told him in a faint voice, eyes locked onto Runaan. “I found him.”

The bandit nodded eagerly as if he’d actually been of help. He gathered up his foolhardy compatriots, and together the humans bolted without a backward glance.

Runaan tracked him with a tense stare until he was out of sight before he let himself drink in the sight of his precious craftsman from head to toe. Tension he’d been holding for nearly a year began to ease from his shoulders. “Ethari.” His voice was a tentative prayer.

“Runaan.” Ethari’s voice was faint, too.

The assassin’s eyes dropped to the shield. Its edge was rimmed with all the phases of the Moon. Runaan wondered briefly how many enchantments Ethari had crammed into its swirlies. “You’re fighting?” he murmured.

“I’m on a mission,” Ethari corrected breathlessly. His chest was still heaving, but Runaan suspected it was for a different reason now.

Runaan felt the first hints of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t smiled since the Silvergrove, but Ethari always had a way of--

Ethari’s brows lowered sharply. “To find Xadia’s biggest dumbass.”

Runaan’s eyes widened. “What?”

With a growl, Ethari charged at him. Runaan managed to drop his bowblade safely into a nearby fern before Ethari seized him by the front of his shirt and backed him up against a nearby tree trunk. Runaan gripped his husband’s wrists and braced for impact, wincing as his horn tip clattered against the rough bark. His toes slipped on an angled root and dangled in the air as Ethari pinned him easily in place. Runaan’s eyes danced from his husband’s furious eyes to his bulging deltoids to his aggressive stance to his fingers knotting in Runaan’s shirt to the way those two soft locks of hair always fluttered right in the middle of his forehead, and finally managed to focus on his mouth, which had been pouring an angry stream of words past his ears for several seconds.

“--where the fuck have you been? Why didn’t you come home? I thought you were dead! Or lost! Or hurt! Or captured again! I was worried sick! Did you ever think about that? Did you?”

Runaan opened his mouth to stammer a reply.

Ethari’s question was apparently rhetorical. He bulled onward: “I gave Rayla your lotus in a jar of water from the pool, and she said she’d bring you back to me. And she started to promise me, and do you know what I did, Runaan? Do you? I stopped her. I couldn’t take another broken promise from an assassin standing beside my ritual pool. I couldn’t take it. So I sent her off without it, and I started to hope again. And the full Moon came, and went, and I couldn’t sleep a wink, for days and days. I waited! I waited for you, you shadowsaken idiot!”

Runaan couldn’t look away. The full force of Ethari’s rage and sorrow poured into his eyes and slammed against his chest, leaving him breathless. “I…”

Ethari wasn’t nearly done, though. “And then Rayla returned to the Silvergrove, with Lain and Tiadrin and Callum and Ezran and the Queen of the Sunfire Elves and her human girlfriend--”

“Her what?” Runaan blurted.

“--and she had to tell me to my face that you’d run away,” Ethari continued. “Left in the night. Bolted. Scarpered. Fled, like some kind of coward. She had to say those words to me, and she had to watch me crumple to the floor and fall apart, again!” He checked Runaan against the tree a second time. “Again, Runaan!” Another shove. “I fell apart again!” And another. “How many times am I going to let you destroy my heart before I’ve had enough?” Furious tears spilled down Ethari’s cheeks and lost themselves in his markings.

“N-No…” Runaan’s whispered denial shivered into a sudden sob. Ethari’s angry slams barely registered compared to the pain of seeing his tears. His fingers fluttered toward Ethari’s cheeks, aching to wipe away the sorrow he’d caused. “I’m so sor--”

Ethari pulled him away from the tree and slammed him back against it with more force, interrupting Runaan’s gesture. “I’m not finished!” he roared. “Don’t you dare be soft with me before I’ve gotten this off my chest! I’ve been carrying it alone for ten months and I’ll be bloodcursed if I let you stop me from unloading every last word now that I’ve found you, do you hear me?”

Half terrified, half dazzled at the raw power in Ethari’s voice, Runaan could only nod mutely and cling to his husband’s wrists for dear life.

“Good!” Ethari yelled. He panted heavily for a few breaths, staring Runaan in the eye with a baleful glare, before asking in a slightly less aggressive tone, “Alright, now where was I?”

A distant light dawned in Runaan’s heart, and his brows lifted softly. “You were asking me how many times you were going to let me destroy your heart before you’ve had enough,” he supplied gently.

Ethari’s fists tightened in Runaan’s shirt. He slowed his breathing and swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was merely resentful. “Right. Yes. Thank you.”

Runaan felt one of his own tears escape over the edge of his cheek. His heart was absolutely thrumming with Ethari’s presence. His warmth, his strength, the smell of his breath, the shivering rumble of his voice--Runaan was nearly delirious with so much enchanting proof of his husband’s existence right there in front of him. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relaxing in Ethari’s grip. When he opened them again, they lingered on Ethari’s hands for a long moment, and he gave his husband’s wrists a long, fervent squeeze. “You’re welcome,” he murmured.

“No, don’t you do that, don’t you be soft and handsome when I’m angry at you,” Ethari protested grumpily. He set Runaan on his feet and checked him lightly against the tree with a quick press of his fingertips.

Runaan let out a soft grunt as his back connected with the bark again. “I keep asking you to tell me how to stop doing that, but you never have.”

Ethari glared balefully at him, and his lip curled once again. But then his bottom lip shivered, and his face crumpled into longing. He cupped Runaan’s head in his hands, bringing their foreheads together with a soft bump and pressing hard. One hand wound into Runaan’s hair, and the other encircled his shoulders, pulling him tightly against Ethari’s chest until their noses brushed tips. “You utter idiot. I missed you,” Ethari breathed, so softly Runaan almost didn’t catch it.

Uncertain but needy, Runaan slipped his hands inside Ethari’s cloak and gripped the back of his broad belt, pulling their bodies flush. He waited, silent, soaking up every heartbeat of this soft, precious, long-awaited contact with his beloved.

“I stayed, for a while.” Ethari’s words rode just above a whisper, and their warmth brushed Runaan’s lips. “For Lain and Tiadrin, and for Rayla. But they knew. They knew. They knew before I did.”

Runaan’s fingers squeezed tighter, clinging, needing to hear the rest but fearing the truth of the pain his absence had caused.

“I didn’t know where to begin, but Rayla helped me. And so did King Ezran, and Prince Callum, and Queen Aanya, and Lujanne, too. I started wandering, following stories of a shadowy hero who always saved people from danger and vanished into the night. No one ever admitted to getting a good look at him, no one remembered his words. They just knew they owed him their lives.”

Runaan huffed in wry amusement. He’d thought he was changing his life entirely, and yet his husband had known him in an instant, merely from stories of his minor exploits. “I can’t ever hide from you, can I?”

“I could recognize you by touch alone,” Ethari breathed, “by smell. I would know you blind, by the way your breaths came and your feet struck the earth. I would know you in death, at the end of the world.”

A wry smile lifted one corner of Runaan’s mouth. “I think we’ve been.”

Ethari cupped Runaan’s cheeks softly and gave him a steady look. “You made me a promise, Runaan, to return my heart to me.”

“I did.”

“But I had to go looking for it myself.”

Runaan’s gaze dropped. “You did.”

Ethari gently lifted his chin with a finger until their eyes met again. “Well? I’m here now.”

Runaan’s brows twitched down. “But… I failed you. I destroyed it, with my carelessness and my pride. You just asked me--”

Ethari pressed his finger against Runaan’s lips. “I asked you how many times. I know. Because it’s happened more than once. I know that, too. Yes, I’m angry with you. But I didn’t hike all over Garlath’s green earth just to tell you to stuff it, you great stupid moonberry.”

“What did you hike all over Garlath’s green earth to tell me, then?” Runaan asked, half afraid of the answer.

“I’m a Master Craftsman, Runaan. You should remember well how many weapons I’ve repaired for you over the years, because it’s been a lot. And I’ve repaired other things for you, too. Your feelings. Your body. Your own heart.”

Runaan went still under Ethari’s touch as a frenetic parade of memories streaked past his mind’s eye. Ethari’s soft words, soft touch, soft kisses, ten thousand times over. Overcome, he pressed his cheek into his husband’s hand and nodded, feeling hot tears slipping past his lashes.

“I’m not a Master Craftsman for nothing. I can repair anything I choose to. Anything at all,” Ethari continued softly. He leaned his forehead against Runaan’s again. “And I choose to repair my own heart when you break it. I choose. To re-pair my heart. With yours.”

Runaan laughed through a sob at his husband’s pun and slid gentle arms around his husband, reassuring himself of his husband’s warm, solid strength.

Ethari sighed in relief at Runaan’s gesture. “I hiked all over Garlath’s green earth to choose you, again. But I need to know, Runaan… What do you choose?”

Runaan sought his husband’s warm sunset eyes and found them brimming with emotion. His own lip trembled at the sight of the pain he’d caused his most beloved. A thousand years of tradition flashed through his mind, its insistence foggy and distant without the pull of his lost oath. Without that urgency pounding through his own blood, there was only one thing he longed to be: with Ethari. With this elf whom he’d hurt, with this elf whom he was very sure he didn’t deserve.

He cupped his husband’s face and bared his heart for whatever fate awaited him. “You,” he said, through an ecstatic sob. “I choose you. Take this heart of yours back, Ethari, if you truly still want it. I did my best to keep it safe, but it deserved so much more care than I could give it… I did you wrong, my heart, so wrong, and I dare not make you any promises, but...” Runaan’s words faded to desperate puffs of breath that ghosted across Ethari’s lips as he leaned closer, drawn by the dizzyingly warm, solid presence of his precious husband. “My heart… I missed you, too...”

Ethari met him halfway, and he tasted as if they’d never been apart. They pulled each other close, full of eager hands and soft whimpers. Runaan’s head spun with the blessed ecstasy of his husband’s kisses, and he clung to Ethari’s sturdy shoulders for balance even as he pressed himself closer against him.

All those months apart suddenly seemed to be happening all at once, endless yet instantaneous. Runaan felt eight kinds of fool for letting his blasted honor get in the way of the love this glorious elf was determined to shower him with. With a soft cry, he buried his face against Ethari’s neck and threw his arms around his shoulders. Ethari wrapped him in a tight hug and rocked him slowly, humming into his hair.

“What do I do now?” Runaan murmured brokenly into Ethari’s purple scarf.

“Come home,” Ethari said promptly. He caressed Runaan’s cheek and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Come home.”

Runaan raised his head, accepting Ethari’s easy words as proof that he hadn’t been ghosted back in the Silvergrove. But in that quiet moment there in his husband’s arms, high in the mountains of Duren, he realized that, for the first time in his life, he didn’t care what the Silvergrove thought of him. Only Ethari’s regard mattered now. “You’re my home. And you’re right in front of me.”

His husband’s eyes lit with eager warmth, and a teasing lilt accompanied his sassy grin. “Then you’d better come here.”

Runaan bit his lip at his husband’s suggestive pun. “My camp’s just up the slope.”

Ethari took Runaan’s face in his hands, backed him gently against the tree again, and kissed him passionately. When he finally let Runaan up for air, he gasped, “What in Garlath’s green earth makes you think I can wait that long?”

Some while later, the husbands ambled along the mountain road, hand in hand, with nowhere in particular to go. Ethari talked as lightly as he could of the things he had seen, and Runaan listened with a full heart and trod with a quiet and grateful step. His hand never left Ethari’s, needing constant reassurance that he was truly there beside him after so long, that he had truly come looking for his long-lost husband. That Runaan was worth searching for, despite all he had done.

If Ethari noticed the occasional tear of humble gratitude slipping over Runaan’s cheeks, he was kind enough not to draw attention to it. Instead, he easily shifted topics to give Runaan time to adjust, telling sweet anecdotes and dramatic retellings and recounting his brushes with powerful figures that Runaan already knew, and some he didn’t. He hopped and twirled and bowed in time with his stories, never once letting go of his wayward husband’s hand, spinning close for the occasional kiss as he always had.

“...and then the Tidebound ambassador arrived and caused quite a splash,” Ethari said as they crested a hill. A warm breeze wafted up from the valley below, ruffling Runaan’s side tails and Ethari’s scarf. “Literally, the elf shot himself out of the well! I could hear the humans yelping all the way back at the blacksmith’s shop. If it hadn’t been for Callum’s quick thinking, that first contact would’ve been quite the wet blanket! But he had everything sorted in minutes. Rayla’s truly chosen well, my heart.”

Runaan’s feet slowed. “Chosen well…?”

Ethari paused, wide-eyed. “Surely they told you when they freed you.”

Runaan’s eyes narrowed. “They mysteriously neglected to mention.”

"But why would she-?" To Runaan’s surprise, Ethari suddenly burst into snorting laughter. “Ah. Clever girl.”

“What?” Runaan asked, suspicious.

“I should’ve known what that wicked twinkle in her eye was about when I told her I’d come searching for you. She’s letting me do the mentioning for her, right now. She knows us too well, love.”

Runaan blinked. Rayla and the human prince? Together? The scheming young couple had left Ethari to search for his husband, and to unwittingly break the news of their courtship to him, knowing that Runaan would take such disturbing news best from the elf he loved most.

That didn’t mean he’d take it well.

“I’ll be right back.” Runaan spun on his heel, stalking directly toward Katolis.

Ethari planted his feet and towed Runaan right back around in front of him, though. He pulled the wayward assassin into his arms and kissed him right on his frown. “Welcome back! I missed you. Again.” His dark brows bent softly.

Runaan’s tense expression broke, and his eyebrows drifted high in dismay at what he’d just tried to do. He clung to Ethari’s muscled arms and pressed his forehead against his husband’s. “Moon help me, I am a great stupid moonberry.”

“Yes, you are. And I love you anyway.” Ethari’s embrace was gentle and warm.

Runaan pressed a soft kiss of apology against his husband’s lips and let it linger, soaking up Ethari’s patience. “Walk with me again, then, and…”

“And?”

Runaan took a deep breath and slid his fingers between his husband’s. “And... tell me of Callum. Apparently, I have quite a bit of catching up to do.”

Ethari grinned and nudged Runaan’s shoulder with his own. “As my moonberry wishes.”

#ruthariweek2021 #ruthari #ruthari fanfic #runaan #ethari #my writing #my fanfic #tdp angst #angst and fluff #soft elf husbands #a whole rainbow of feels in here #they gotta catch up see

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sooibian · 4 years

Text

The Spy Who Loved Me

gif credits @byunvoyage

Pairing: Spy!Baekhyun x Assassin!Reader ft. Chen, Chanyeol

Description: It’s an obsessive cat and mouse chase

Themes: Dark comedy, angst, heavily inspired by season one of Killing Eve

Warnings: Violence, strong language

Word Count: ~2.8k

A/N: This one-shot comes during a very busy season for me so if you can make time for feedback, I’d be very grateful. Thanks :)

———————————————————————–

It’s the way light escapes their eyes.

Fear. Despair. Hope. Then…nothing.

They hope to be spared. I have a family…what about my children…please…why are you doing this to me…. The utterly foolish ones even offer you money. This imbecility makes the corners of your mouth curl upwards - especially when they’re out of breath from running or begging or whatever it is that gets their heart rate up. Eh. Factor in some cardio before dissolving into a permanent state of slumber, maybe? Poor things always mistake the twitch of your lips for impending clemency…what they don’t know is that it’s always been the breathy ones that peak your excitement.

There’s not a single hit you’ve regretted.

Mostly because you don’t bother with the futility of why. They give you a name and you jet off. To you, it’s really a fun job involving travel, costumes, languages, a hefty allowance, sticking pointy objects in the right places and theatrics. You’re not one to just do your job and slip away quietly. No arterial air embolisms, no unidentifiable fumes or poisons. No boring and discreet. Where’s the fun in that? Flamboyant is your middle name. Every assassination is a heroi-comical poem for you - killing an asthamatic nez with a fatal concoction of perfume or a feeble-hearted fetishist with clamps that turned out to be a wee bit too intense for him.

You’re good at this. No, infact, you’re the best there is, the best there was, the best there ever will be.

“The NIS has deployed a team of four to hunt you down because of the mess you left in Beijing. So you’ll be working with a team now. No more flying solo.” Your handler Chen says nonchalantly.

Shit.

Beijing. “Make it look like a suicide”, had been the directive. The assignment Kasia had been put under witness protection after you’d murdered her mafia boyfriend. She was in a hospital - injured and deranged from the shock of it all, watched over by armed men. Things obviously didn’t go as planned and the security detail bloodbath was, well, collateral damage.

You saunter towards Chen with an intentional swing in your hips, a pout on your lips. You sit a little too close to the astute man, almost purring with seduction, “NIS, you say. Give me a name."

“Byun Baekhyun.” His lips curl into a cat-like smile as he stealthily adds a foot long distance between the both of you.

“Never heard of him”, you say neutrally, gliding closer to his stoic form.

“He was a security officer before this. A nobody. In fact, he was fired right after the Kasia debacle in Beijing. She was his responsibility.” Letting out an exasperated sigh, he gets up on the pretext of fetching a glass of water.

“Why the sudden promotion, then?”

“A change of jobs. He’s heading a team…Operation Jinseong, they call themselves. Apparently, he’s the only one who believed that the murders have all been executed by a woman. If they can get to you, they can get to them. The organization. This conjecture has seemed to have impressed a higher up. After firing him, they swept his computer and found hoards of theories and all the intelligence he could gather about the faceless demon that’s actually…you. An insider thinks he’s fascinated. And a little cuckoo.” Chen’s laughter is throaty and taunting.

He takes a sip of water and places the glass carefully on the counter, eyeing you the entire time. Chen. It’s a nom de plume. He’s a ghost - a shadow of a shadow, if you will. You know nothing about Chen but you know better than to snoop around. He’s always been affable yet distant, but he has this maddening habit of scrutinizing people. The changes in the expression, the dilation of the pupils. The man doesn’t miss a beat. And he stares unapologetically. You wonder what he thinks when he looks at you. You wonder how he feels. Disgusted? Lustful? Terrified?

He wants to know everything that’s behind those vacant eyes. With him, you feel disrobed.

“You’re only as good as your last”, he says finally, in his threateningly soft voice, thrusting a thumb drive into your hand. But you don’t feel threatened. The truth is, you feel nothing at all.

He’s at the door when you exclaim, “You never have sex with me!” Feigning annoyance.

He laughs and states matter -of-factly, “I’m married”, before closing the door behind him.

Like that’s ever stopped a man before.

***

Byun Baekhyun.

You search the thumb drive and a fresh faced man with luminous eyes smiles at you from the screen. His arm is wrapped around a slender, honey-skinned woman with big hair and big teeth. They look like an advertisement for home buyers.

A wave of recognition floods your mind.

He was there.

He was there at the Beijing scene. The beautiful man who helped you with the coffee maker in the hospital. The very same coffee you doused barista Kasia with.

There’s an inexplicable swell in your chest.

You’re no team player.

The undertaking with your ex and her boyfriend didn’t go as planned. Chen should’ve known.

After a disagreement, you instigated her to off him, your shin getting injured in the scuffle. Then you ran her over with the jeep - once, twice. The third time was just to be sure. This commotion affected the escape of the NIS Agent you were after.

The mole that ratted out Baekhyun’s Operation Jinseong.

The murders of your “colleagues” you could manage to explain - you’d tailored them to look like accidents. However, the assignment’s escape was sure to reflect poorly on you.

You’re only as good as your last.

The Agent scurries across a field of dead grass towards the feeder road, putting considerable distance between him and an injured you, where someone sat waiting anxiously in the driver’s seat.

Oh, Baekhyun…

It’s the first time you look into each other’s eyes, the moment stretching between you. It is like standing on the ledge of a skyscraper. With the wind in your hair, the world at your feet but in this space exists trepidation. A fear of falling.

Your gun wielding arm suddenly feels too heavy and your legs threaten to give up on you. Your heart rate escalates as the hot embers of his gaze gloss over the stretch of your skin.

The mole slips into the backseat of Baekhyun’s compact Kia Morning as you continue to take aimless shots at his vitals - eyes still intertwined with Baekhyun’s.

What good was a mole to the NIS?, you wanted to ask. Especially one that looked like a sewer rat.

You were only doing them a favour.

Aiming the gun at Baekhyun, you fire, only to realize he isn’t fearful or panicky. On the contrary, there is a sense of purpose in his eyes as well as something you could only identify as a glimmer. A spark.

Even from a twenty foot distance you can tell Byun Baekhyun is in awe of you.

This…thing…this electricity surges through your veins and you sprint towards your jeep - as fast as your good leg could carry you.

Oops. You didn’t mean to run over her for the fourth time.

***

Reverse. Acceleration. A few well thought out turns and your jeep is hardly a hundred meters behind Baekhyun’s car. You continue to fire and he continues to dart, swerve, sidestep. A good driver.

Suddenly, his car comes to a screeching halt.

He steps out of his vehicle amidst shrill cries of protest from the mole in the backseat and you follow suit.

Weaponless, crouched, he inches towards the gun pointed at him.

“I mean no harm”, despite his scared posture, his voice is confrontational. “Leave the man alone. He has a little girl.”

Oh, Baekhyun…

You smile at him. He smiles back.

A genuine smile. Like the one your father used to give you when he saw you relishing ice-cream as…a little girl.

In a flash, you aim the nozzle at your temple and Baekhyun cries out a loud, pained, “NO!”

Laughing, you lower the gun and fire at his feet. He ducks.

You vanish.

It was exhilarating to use the alias ``Mrs. Byun ” for your next job especially since the man and his giant partner have been on your tail for three months now.

But, maybe, you shouldn’t’ve stolen Baekhyun’s luggage as soon as he landed in Tokyo to investigate the mysterious death of a Chinese colonel. He and his team knew perfectly well whodunnit. But one can’t bring faceless demons to book now, can they?

Who knows how this easily distracted giant of a man is supposed to protect Baekhyun if it should ever come to it. He couldn’t even watch his luggage for a measly five minutes.

***

You watch Baekhyun and the giant from your apartment overlooking the crime scene. He looks frazzled and the giant slightly apologetic. ‘You’ll have your bag back soon, baby’, you whisper, sucking on a bubblegum flavoured lollipop.

Thirty minutes roll by and the investigation seems to be heading nowhere. Bored out of your wits, you slump into your bed and toy with the contents of Baekhyun’s bag - shirts, slacks, underwear, toiletries.

Dull, tedious, and soul-destroyingly unimaginative.

Save for one green scarf.

In a sea of monotones, the scarf stands out. Demanding attention. Fluttering your eyes shut, you slowly bury your face in it - your senses entirely enveloped in his heady scent.

***

“Excuse me, if you don’t mind me asking, where did you get that scarf from?”

Day two in Tokyo. You’ve been following Baekhyun (and, by extension, Chanyeol). Studying him. It was like adopting Chen’s personality. Apart from the occasional loud laughter, his demeanour, you learn, is self-effacing, gracious, and polite. He’s a picky eater who only eats to live and not the other way round. He’s also very observant and intuitive. But not enough to know that he’s being watched.

Also, he’s thinking. Constantly. He’s thinking about you.

“Excuse me?”

Chanyeol asks again - large, deep brown eyes focused on your neck trying to stop you from getting onto the same train as Baekhyun.

Very subtle.

“It’s from my mother’s store. I could give you the address if you like”, smiling, you crane your neck to look into his disturbed eyes as you both pretend not to know each other amidst a swarm of dog-tired people on the platform at six in the evening.

You slip into the crowd but the oaf chooses to follow.

What does he think he’s doing following an assassin through a strange city! Unarmed.

Forty minutes elapse and he continues to chase you through the streets of Tokyo, keeping up with your brisk pace. With your easy charm, you breeze into the club called Camelot and wave Chanyeol goodbye as he’s stopped by the bouncer and sent to the back of the line. His eyes are dark with a murderous rage.

The club is loud, dark…stuffy - the air thick with over-the-counter happiness. Definitely not to your taste but you stay to give Chanyeol a head start. He’s pissed you off and he’ll pay for it later. Not today.

You really didn’t want to upset a tired Baekhyun. At least not until you feel a beefy hand weigh down your shoulder.

“I didn’t want to do this”, you rise on your tippy toes and whisper into his ear before sticking a short blade into the side of his stomach. He’s heaving as you stare into his round, childlike, startled eyes while supporting his stumbling weight and stabbing him repeatedly until he finally collapses.

You leave him to bleed out on the dance floor and on your way out, you grab the arm of a medium-built man, your blood-dipped, glistening lips stretched into a lascivious smile.

“Let’s put you in a costume first”, you say to the unassuming moron, excitably thinking of Baekhyun’s dull shirts.

Grief draws people closer, your grandmother used to say, every time someone died of sickness in that impoverished little village of yours.

Baekhyun’s grieving the oaf who was slowing him down. He’s looking for company. So..he’s snooping.

He’s in your apartment.

The “trusting old lady” - your next door neighbour, who actually works for the same organization as you handed him the key exactly as instructed. You’d been expecting him, this meeting was long overdue. But you wait in the cute little French cafe just around the corner - watching him scout out your apartment through your phone, while devouring a Charlotte Russe cake - dressed pretty in a flouncy pink dress.

He’s careful not to make a squeak. Walking on tippy toes, running his beautifully slender fingers along the drapes, the furniture, the walls as he goes. Your skin tingles all over. Oh, how you wish to be a piece of furniture in the moment. Only Baekhyun could make you want to be something muted and inanimate. Furniture, mattress, drapes.

He saunters slowly to your blackwood Georgian cupboard. The one you use for your wigs, costumes, weapons, and his own green scarf. He wears the scarf around his neck, ruffles the costumes but he’s gentle with the wigs. Stroking and caressing.

From the drawer he picks out a .38 and shoves it in his waistband. Right behind his hip bone.

Oh, Baekhyun…

Pretty boys and their dangerous toys.

He finds himself in the kitchen. The revolver seems to have straightened his spine and suffused his step with a very welcome spring. Mi casa es su casa.

In the fridge he finds exactly what he’s supposed to. No food. Only a dozen bottles of celebratory champagne of the best kind. What comes next from him is a scornful snicker which fills your mouth with a bitter taste. The Charlotte Russe doesn’t look very appetizing anymore. He draws a bottle out of the fridge, studies it and smashes it onto the floor. Then another, then another until all the bottles are reduced to shattered glass dripping in gold strewn across your kitchen floor.

Playtime is over, Baekhyun.

You make a run for your apartment.

***

He’s exhausted.

Breathless, air tousled, shirt crumpled, eyes droopy, beads of sweat lined across his forehead and upper lip - standing clueless, smack-dab in the middle of the mess he’s made - clothes torn off their hangers, furniture overturned. You can’t recognize your upscale Seoul apartment anymore. Careful around the glass, you make your way towards his still frame, withdraw the weapon from his light, jaded grasp.

You take his hand in yours and lead him to your bedroom - which is entirely ransacked just like the rest of your house. Save for the bed.

He lies down on his back and his first words are, “God, I’m tired.”

“Me too”, you say, as you lie facing him, “Are you wearing the cologne I gave you?”

You’d sent him a bottle of cologne along with the bag you had nicked in Tokyo, as a token of appreciation. It was handcrafted to smell like power.

He hums, turning to the side to face you, nestling into the depths of your irises.

“Are you going to kill me?” He asks, eyeing the revolver in your hand.

Your heart falls to pieces at the ache in his voice.

“No”, you say simply, tossing it to the side.

“Really?”

“I promise.”

Relief ripples across his soft, boyish features smoothing the lines of worry as it goes.

“You’re all I think about”, he says, studying your face. And you’re left wondering yet again, about his thoughts. His feelings.

“So you trash my apartment?” You sound as gentle as you can. But if you’re honest, you don’t even have to try that hard.

“I lost my job, my partner, my wife left me, and I even lost my sanity because of you.”

With his dulcet touch, he traces along the edge of your lips.

“Fair enough. I think about you too. I mean, I to you masturbate a lot.” You say as your thumb rubs his cheek lightly.

He lets out a loud, embarrassed giggle that makes him look a decade younger.

“Too much?” You ask, apprehensively.

“No, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

And with that you’re both inching closer to each other, like magnets.

Baekhyun’s soft gaze darkens and simultaneously you feel something sharp poking at your stomach.

“You can’t do it”, you wrap your hand around the blade, almost mocking him. He’s too nice for something this abominable.

“I can”, he whispers, his eyes still nestled in yours, as he plunges the blade deeper, tearing you apart.

He places a chaste, soft kiss on your forehead.

Fear. Despair. Hope.

“Sorry, baby.”

Continuation - My Lovable Curse

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isnt-it-loverly · 4 years

Text

falling for you// five hargreeves

Warnings: blood and burns

Summary: A mission goes sour and Five quite literally sweeps you off your feet.

Word count: 1300

Requested: jump, I’ll catch you

Author note: first time writing from the prompt list! I also started working on the next part of little birdie so expect that very soon! I also have a few more ideas and requests to do. Thank you so much for the support and love on my fics.

It all started out like any normal day. You and your partner, Five, were assigned a boringly average case. A businessman in 1940 whose death would somehow lead to the fall of the Third Reich. You were just a field worker, so you didn’t care how, you just knew he needed to die. So simple you don’t know why they needed two of you. However if there was one thing you and Five did well together, it was to execute orders.

The pair of you were a well-oiled machine, you worked in tangent, and you complimented each other nicely. You were the “it couple” of the Commission- everyone wanted to be you.

Although you were no couple, the relationship was strictly business. Sure, sometimes you shared a bed when your motel was downgraded, our you would help him through a nightmare, or he would always pay for your dinner. He was your confidant, your shoulder to sleep on, your best friend. It had taken a lot for you to reach this point. Both of you were exceedingly closed off and very VERY stubborn. Three years of forced partnership had blossomed into something beautiful. Of course, you two weren’t without fault. You still fought from time to time, every relationship had its hicks and bumps in the road. But you had grown to care for him deeply and you knew that beneath that cold, hard exterior that Five cared for you too.

The landing was nothing but ordinary. You were in some rinky-dink alleyway in Paris, France. You straightened out your dress that The Handler forced you to wear, claiming that it would help you blend in. You linked your arm with Five’s, and he hummed in response.

“Let’s get this asshole so I can get out of this stupid dress,” You grumbled in annoyance.

“I think it’s a nice change of pace from the pantsuit, you look less like an assassin and more like a person,” Five replied with a genuine smile.

That was certainly weird. Sure Five was nice to you, but with little things like putting extra sugar in his coffee so when you inevitably stole it, it would be the way you like it. Never just an outright compliment, and has he always smiled at you like that? You wrote off your thoughts and decided that maybe he was just in a good mood that morning.

You two headed towards your target's office. Since it was 1940, there was no security system so no need to be discrete. Although you had a flare for the dramatics, the plan was for you to snuff him out yourself and for Five to keep a watch outside in case things went sour. He watched as you walked in the building, a little nervous that you were going in alone but he knew that you were tough as nails. This was a simple case and he was glad to have a break. He stood next to the fire escape, watching the fourth story window like a hawk.

You waltzed into Mr. Duponte’s office. Your dress was slightly unbuttoned and your lipstick was obnoxiously red.

“Bonjour,” You spoke like a melody. You could tell that your appearance made him flustered. His cheeks glowed red and his eyes widened.

“I seem to be lost,” you said, closing the door behind you, “I’m in need of some assistance.”

“Yes madam, how may- how may I be of service?” He choked, having to clear his throat mid-sentence.

You moved closer hips swaying as you did, God, this was going to be fun. You hand grazed his cheek, while maintaining eye contact with your other hand wrapped around his tie. You leaned in closer and as he closed his eyes you yanked his tie so his head slammed into his desk.

“What the fuck?” He stammered.

You pulled out your revolver with a cheeky smile.

“Don’t ask where I was hiding this, it will only make you blush harder,” You smiled.

Before you could pull the trigger, he somehow managed to snatch the gun out of your hand, and all while landing a solid punch in the jaw. You rubbed it slightly, surprise and pain evident on your face.

“Who are you working for? Russia? Scotland Yard?” He shouted, the gun now pointed in your face.

Shit, you thought to yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have been so cocky. If you survived you would definitely have to hear about this from Five. You raised your hands up, knowing when you’re beat.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been pistol-whipped, but wow did it hurt. When you came too you noticed your wrist was bound to his desk.

“Sorry sweetheart, but I can’t have you running your mouth to your superiors. Or having them find what’s in this office,” he said in a nervous tone.

You watched in horror as he dosed the room I’m alcohol and dropped a single match. You screamed and yanked against the desk, trying desperately to get free before the flames reached you.

Five was now definitely worried, you were taking too long. He knew you liked to mess around but it never took you this long to finish a job. He checked his watch hastily and tapped his foot. Looking up to the window he saw thick black smoke, he felt the breath being sucked right out of his lungs. You were the one constant in his life since the apocalypse and he couldn’t lose you.

Suddenly he heard the window break, he looked to see a rather large book falling from the sky. You leaned out coughing and gasping for fresh air. The pair of you locked eyes and it felt like Five could breathe again.

“The target got away, I’m not gonna make it out in time! See if you can catch him” You yelled hoarsely.

“Not a chance, I’m not leaving while you’re still in there,” He yelled back.

“Five, believe it or not, but I’m not indestructible, my adrenaline will run out. If the fire doesn’t kill me, falling from the fire escape definitely will. You have to go,” You pleaded.

He had to think of something quick. Eyeing his surroundings, there was only one thing he could think of.

“Jump!”

“Are you crazy?! I just said the fall would kill me!”

“Just jump damn it, I’ll catch you.”

You climbed onto the ledge of the fire escape, the blood dripping from your nose and the burn on your hand was excruciating. This confirmed your theory that you would never make it down on your own. You looked at Five and he gave you a hopeful thumbs up. You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath- here goes nothing. Just as you jumped Five blinked to the second tier of the fire escape and caught you as you fell past, just like he promised. You both yelled as that was an incredibly stupid plan, but at least you were both alive and out of immediate danger.

“See, I told you I’d catch you,” He whispered in your ear while pulling you close to his chest.

“Thank you for not killing me,” You sighed in relief.

“I’ll always be there to catch you when you fall (Y/n), that’s what partners do,” Five told you.

Partners. Maybe Five was starting to see you as more than just a business partner, and maybe so were you. You’re breathing hitched at the thought. You always had each other’s backs, what made this any different. Before you could get lost any further in his words you cleared your throat.

“Come on, we have to find that guy before the commission has our heads instead,” You said with a small wince.

“Agreed, but then you’ll let me patch you up,” He stated.

“Of course, partner.”

There was definitely something new between the pair. A feeling that hadn't quite been there before. Maybe not today, but one day soon- perhaps it would blossom into something greater.

#number five #five x reader #five hargreeves #number five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #aidan gallagher #The Umbrella Academy #tua #five #number five x you #five x you #five x y/n #number 5

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drabbles-of-writing · 3 years

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Meet Me in the Void (pt 3)

This is part of my Fallen AU Part 1, Part 2

AO3

Masterpost

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Purple either has to be remarkably stubborn or ridiculously inhuman, because Luz is pretty sure any regular human, or even witch, would’ve collapsed from blood loss at this point.

She decides it's probably a bit of both.

Purple had insisted on moving as soon as their injuries were bandaged up. Luz protested, but clearly, when Purple had an idea in their head, they couldn’t quit. Because despite that, Purple still got up and limped their way through the trench. Luz couldn’t do much but follow. Or, really, lead.

Every few minutes Luz would stop and turn around, seeing that Purple had fallen back a bit and was struggling to keep up. And Luz found Purple was...a lot less intimidating. Obviously, because of the whole injured thing, but they had taken off their cloak and wrapped it around their side, leaving them just in black. They seemed far skinnier than Luz imagined, like they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Who knows, maybe those animals who made themselves look bigger had the right idea on intimidation.

But back to the topic at hand.

Luz would insist on slowing down whenever Purple seemed to take an extra minute to catch up, but at this point, they’d stopped responding. Luz figured they were just tuning her out.

So, clearly that wasn’t going to work. But what else was Luz supposed to do? Walk in awkward silence for hours on end? She’d rather try to climb the trench with her bare hands.

And for the dozenth time in half an hour (she thinks, time is weird when you're underground and lost in a ravine), Luz was leaning against the wall of the pit, arms crossed as she waited for Purple to limp their way over.

“So,” She started. Upon no reaction from Purple as they continued limping by, she took it as a go-ahead. “Do you have a name?”

Purple finally looked up at her (progress!), giving her a tired look. They then went right back to limping, now beginning to pass Luz.

“...okay, no name then.” Luz said, pushing off the wall and deciding to walk slowly alongside them. “Is it cool if I call you Purple, then? Cause that’s kind of what I’ve been doing lately.”

Purple blinked, or at least gave the impression of it, and looked over at Luz incredulously.

“So I’m not original, sue me.” Luz mumbled, shoving her hands into her pockets. “You got a preference for something else?”

Purple grumbled a few throaty clicking sounds, turning their head back to paying attention to what was in front of them.

“Well, I can’t pronounce that, so I think Purple will have to suffice.” Luz said simply.

She could’ve sworn the light chuffing sound Purple made was almost a laugh.

The silence started up again, and Luz reached for anything to talk about. Or, ask, really. It was a little hard to keep up a conversation with someone who couldn’t talk, but she could make this work.

“I’ve also just been calling you a they,” Luz started, waving her hand around. “Is that alright, too?”

Purple glanced over at her again, and Luz got the feeling they very much didn’t want to entertain her questions or pestering. To their credit, they weren’t outright ignoring Luz anymore.

“Do you go by he?” Luz guessed, kicking at the small pebbles beneath her feet in some attempt to not have to focus solely on the conversation. “She?”

Purple raised a claw, chirping as they pointed at Luz and nodded. Praise them for using gestures that Luz could understand.

“You're a she?” Luz guessed. Purple nodded calmly, going right back to dragging herself over the stones.

Luz resisted the urge to pump a fist in the air. She was getting somewhere! Purple seemed to not have an aversion to yes or no questions, probably because they were easy to answer, so if she just kept asking those, she could maybe not get murdered after all this.

Or at least be entertained for a while.

“Uh, lets see,” Luz thought aloud, searching for questions. “Well, since we’re down here, did you see where anyone else fell off?”

Purple shook her head, not bothering to look over at Luz this time.

“Not even the other two Chasers?” Luz inquired. “Actually, do they have names, too? I never managed to get any for them. We kind of just identify those two as ‘the one with darts’ and ‘the one with the rivet.’”

Purple snorted, raising a brow as she looked to her side, where her needle was resting on her belt. She pointed to the needle, then to her, with a faint amused air to her.

“What, you think we should’ve called you Needle?” Luz huffed. “That...huh,” She paused. “That actually might’ve been more creative than Purple.”

Purple snickered, Luz was sure of it this time, their body shaking slightly with a laugh. Luz will admit, she felt quite proud of her feat. For a solid five seconds.

The movement made Purple wince, and she hunched her shoulders as she stopped in her tracks, hissing.

“Crap, are you alright?” Luz fretted, stepping closer. “I told you, we really should rest, that wound could--”

Her hand brushed Purple’s shoulder, and it was like a switch was flipped.

Purple snarled, a feral, guttural noise Luz would be terrified to hear at night. And was more than a little scary to hear in the moment.

Purple jerked away from Luz, claws unsheathing as she stumbled right towards the edge.

Luz was somehow thinking clearly enough to sharply back away instead of reaching out, fearing the Chaser would fall right off into the Void.

And, thankfully, Purple didn’t take a step too far. The edge of her heel went over the edge for barely a moment, pebbles clicking and falling silently in the blackness beneath them. It was enough for Purple to look back and retract her foot.

Once again, the Void almost seemed to reach for her, like a hundred hands towards a raft in the middle of a sea. Though none were close enough to be anywhere near actually grabbing her.

Luz swallowed and Purple stepped away from the ledge, shaking herself and tightening her hold around her wounded side.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

Purple growled, glancing at Luz before straightening up somewhat, though it was clear doing so completely would be too painful. With a gruff and a sharp turn of her head, she went right on walking (poorly so). At a much brisker pace this time.

Luz, who personally didn’t want to see how else Purple would react if further prodded, resigned to keeping her mouth shut and shuffling after her.

Well, at least she had made some progress.

The next pits of walking were far more silent than earlier. Luz wasn’t even rambling or saying something brief to break the anxious silence like before. She didn’t even bother walking ahead of Purple, even though her regular pace was still faster than hers. Being in Purple’s line of sight and having to wait for her seemed like a death sentence at this point.

Purple either knew Luz was doing this on purpose or didn’t care, because she hadn’t looked back once. Only hobbling along and growling quietly if she stumbled, to which Luz had to bite her tongue and let happen.

It continued like that for what seemed like an eternity, though now that Luz thought back, it was probably about fifteen minutes or so. And Luz had been so wrapped up in feeling awful for startling Purple that she hadn’t noticed said Chaser had stopped moving.

It was a miracle Luz managed to realize it in time before walking right into her, giving a small squeak as she jumped back.

Purple glanced back, for the first time, with nothing short of an annoyed glare.

“Uh, sorry,” Luz mumbled with a shy smile. “What’s the hold...up…”

Luz trailed off as she peered around the assassin. There, in front of them both, was nothing but a gaping hole straight into the Void.

The large jut of rock they had been walking across had ended, leaving a sizable gap before them. There was another ledge a few feet in front of them, though it was also well above the height of their current standing. Not an impossible jump, but Luz was a little antsy about someone as banged up as Purple trying to traverse it.

Purple paced, limping to the side as she looked between their ledge and the one above and across from them. Her eyes were narrowed, and she made a lot of odd steps as she tried to figure out how to make the leap.

Luz, meanwhile, was pretty sure she could make it in one bounce.

Easily? No, but she was fairly certain she’d made worse before. And Purple was definitely going to have some trouble getting over that.

So Luz took a few steps back, sizing up the gap between the two ledges. This would be a lot easier with her sword, but it would have to do.

Purple chirped quietly as she looked between the distance. Her hand went to her needle right as Luz crouched down, bunching up her legs.

Now, were anyone else here, they probably would’ve caught on right away to Luz’s (heart-attack inducing) plan. But fortunately for her, none of her friends were here right now. And Purple had yet to get used to how impulsive Luz’s plans could be.

So when Purple turned around, she had no time to prepare or stop Luz as she took off straight towards the gap between the ledges.

Purple’s eyes widened and a sound similar to a cat’s wail and yelp came from her as Luz leapt off at the very end of the rock, completely untethered in the air for a few seconds. Right before she slammed, rather harshly, into the other jut of stone.

“Woo!” Luz cheered, despite the fact that only her hands had a good grip, and half her body was dangling precariously over the Void.

Purple was now rapidly pacing across the rock she was still on, sounding like a strained, slightly less painful chalkboard. Luz paid no heed, instead moving her feet around to try and get a good grip on the rocks to hoist herself up.

“Don’t worry, I got it!” Luz called (rather optimistically) behind her.

Purple’s distressed calls didn’t cease, neither did her lopsided pacing. It took a few more agonizing moments before Luz had managed to get her foot caught on a nook in the rocks and heave herself up, rolling over onto her back once she did so.

“I’m okay!” She assured, not even bothering to lift her head as she caught her breath, calming from her adrenaline rush.

Then, and only then, did Purple finally stop. Luz sat up then, looking down and seeing a thoroughly pissed off witch (if Purple counted as one) glaring up at her.

“Oh, so you can walk for hours on end while bleeding out, but when I jump a gap, suddenly it's an issue?” Luz demanded.

Many loud, chittering squawks came from Purple as she began waving her hands around and gesturing to Luz, her irked tone not lost on the human in the slightest. She still held the needle, and Luz was rather grateful she wasn’t within stabbing distance.

“Yeah, yeah, should’ve warned you,” Luz mumbled, crawling to the edge of the ledge. “But look on the bright side! Now I can help you cross over. So I’d say it was worth it.”

Luz swears she saw Purple’s eye twitch.

And then, immediately after, Purple raised the needle in her hand and stepped back. Luz knew that stance well enough and quickly backed away.

In a mostly fluid movement, she threw the needle like a spear almost towards the exact spot Luz had been sitting. It embedded into the stone right below where Luz had been, albeit not very deep. Either Purple’s aim was failing, or the rocks were very tough down here.

“Is that a good ide--”

Luz was cut off by Purple giving her a dirty look, and Luz slowly shut her mouth. Right, not her place to bring up how bad an idea is.

Purple tugged on the string connecting her belt to her needle, experimentally testing it out. Luz, fairly certain that needle would hold about as well as the first time Purple tried that stunt, made sure to grab the other end of it with her hands. A safety-line of sorts.

Purple seemed exasperated but didn’t argue. Instead, she crouched at the edge and bunched her legs up like a cat underneath her. One wrist had the string loosely wrapped around it, her hands free to become clawed and grip the stone underneath her.

With far more grace than Luz, Purple sprung.

Granted, it was as much grace as someone bleeding from two injuries could muster.

Purple hit the rock, a little lighter, and instantly dug her claws in and gave a hiss, coiling in on herself. Luz winced, that had to hurt.

Purple was quick to begin pulling herself up, and Luz began to offer her hand for a moment before deciding better of it and scooting to the side. She gave the Chaser room as she kept her hands tightly around the safety needle.

The assassin flopped onto her front when she climbed up, her feet hanging off the edge as she deflated with a groan. Luz, who felt assured Purple wouldn’t roll off to her demise, wiggled the needle for a few moments until it popped loose. She set it down before looking back to Purple, crawling closer until she was peering over the bug.

One of Purple’s eyes opened, landing on Luz. Her ragged breathing slowed then as she growled and pushed herself onto her knees. Luz didn’t move back, instead gazing over Purple’s side and noting that the cloak had gotten dirty once more.

“You should probably change that up again.” Luz mentioned, a lot more casual than one should probably be when next to an upset assassin.

Purple grumbled, flicking her wrist that was still wrapped up in the string. It quickly brought the needle closer to her, and in one movement, Purple had grabbed the needle and raised it to Luz’s face.

Luz instinctively stiffened, the point of the needle pressed right on the bridge of her nose. Luz crossed her eyes to look at the point.

“So,” Luz said with a click of her tongue. “I take it...you're still mad at me?” She guessed sheepishly, her eyes uncrossing for a moment to look towards Purple, who seemed like she was debating if she was too tired to be bothered.

Instead, Purple sighed and pushed at the needle, causing Luz to lean and then stumble back so as to avoid getting a new injury on her face.

Which ended up not working when Purple gave one last tiny push and pierced the skin between Luz’s eyes.

“Ow!” Luz yelped, jerking away and pressed a hand to the wound. Purple snickered and sat back, strapping the needle to her belt.

It wasn’t bleeding very much, barely anything really, but Luz was still miffed. Purple didn’t seem to care and rolled to her feet, muttering as she shuffled towards the stone wall.

Luz blinked, watching her from where she sat as Purple flopped against the wall, already messing with her cloak wrapped around her injury so she could press slightly-cleaner cloth against it.

“A...are we resting now?” Luz asked incredulously.

Purple raised a brow, looking around and gesturing with a hand as though the answer were obvious and not at all a legitimate question in these circumstances.

“Seriously?” Luz groaned. “I ask you to break for hours, and all I have to do to get you to take a break is to be quiet for fifteen minutes? Or was it the reckless behavior that made you decide it's time to have a break?”

Purple puffed with a shrug, and Luz had a sneaking suspicion she was grinning under that mask. If there was anything under the mask. Maybe it was just void, that’d be cool.

The assassin then gestured with her claws to a spot a couple feet from her, even snapping her claws in emphasis. Luz, who was in a mix of being excited that Purple didn’t appear to want her gutted and very mildly annoyed, decided it was alright to talk more.

“What, think I’m going to dive off headfirst for fun?” Luz grumbled, though she did get up and walk to the spot Purple wanted her to sit in.

Purple nodded calmly, to which Luz gave an offended gasp.

“I’ll have you know that I have some impulse control,” Luz scoffed with mock-annoyance. “And I am honestly appalled that you’d think otherwise.”

Purple looked at her strangely then, her head tilting like she was looking between Luz and whatever else was around them. As though she were confused at Luz’s dramatized outrage.

“I…” Luz hesitated, but decided she’d already made enough bad decisions that she could risk looking like a further idiot by guessing incorrectly. “You know I was joking, right?”

Purple’s brows raised at that (mimicking doing so, really), humming in realization. She looked far more assured before nodding and going back to re-tying her cloak around her side.

So, Purple had a little trouble with sarcasm at times. Good to know.

Luz took the moment of calmness to look up the chasm. She could see faded lights from nearby towns shining just over the trench. Luz had no idea what time it was now, the Boiling Isles didn’t really have a sense of night and day, but she could figure that now was generally when most people were asleep. Though knowing Eda, she’d be wide awake right now. She’d always insisted the ‘normal time’ for everyone else was stupid.

“Do you think we’ll find the others?” Luz wondered aloud, turning her head slightly to the Chaser. “I’d say I’m pretty alright at finding wherever my friends run off to, but that’s usually because Eda leaves a wake of destruction in her path. You gotta be good with tracking to find us all the time, right?”

Purple didn’t respond, as per usual. But she did glance up to Luz, her claws twitching. Her shoulders seemed to raise, becoming stiffer as she looked out at the canyon they were in. She didn’t look at Luz as she shrugged and leaned back against the wall, one hand laying across her wounded leg and pressing at it.

“Do you need new bandages for your leg?” Luz asked, perking up and leaning just a bit closer. “I can help with--”

Luz cut herself off when Purple shrank away from her getting closer. There was still at least a two foot distance between them, and yet Purple coiled right back in on herself.

“Right,” Luz mumbled, moving back to her previous position.

And that was that, she supposed.

Luz drew her knees close to her chest, noting that Purple had turned her back to her and was likely attempting to sleep. Or at least get some rest.

Luz figured she should probably try to rest, too. She had a lot more walking ahead of her. So she stretched her legs out, using her hands as a pillow on the very uncomfortable ground.

“Night, guys.” She whispered to no one in particular. Nobody around right now, at least.

Silence answered her.

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ao3komorii · 3 years

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Behind the Blade’s Shadow (Talon/Reader)

Starting posting my league stories! I have 3 atm but plan on writing more, but wanted to post my Talon one first. May have taken some liberties with his personality since there’s not a lot of lore material available for Talon but I’m happy with how it came out. As well, just a warning that there is smut at the end of this one!

----

Noxus was a place of power, a place where the strong rise up and carve their own paths, dooming the weak to cower in their shadows. Power is achieved in many ways, and the powerful always had a place in Noxus, provided that they were willing to defend themselves from those wanting to take them down and take their place.

You learned the realities of Noxus from an early age. Your parents were as ambitious as they came, both rising up in the ranks through their own strength and cunning. By the time you had been born, they had formed an alliance with General Du Couteau, securing themselves high ranking positions in the Noxian army. Their power was unquestioned, and the final piece of their empire was complete when you were born.

You were to be their successor; that expectation had been made clear to you since you were old enough to talk. You were their legacy, and every single thing you did would reflect back on them. You were to be a warrior, a leader worthy of carrying on the family legacy of strength and power.

It had always been a burden that you didn’t want to bear. It all started when your powers manifested; magic was seen as a great asset in Noxian society, a weapon that could be used to gain an advantage on the competition. But as soon as your parents’ excitement rose, it was snuffed out. Your magic could be mistaken by nobody in Noxus for power. The light blue glow that you channeled in your hands could heal wounds, but could not cause them.

Healers in Noxus did not bring prestige upon themselves. Warriors, leaders, mages… they could carve their own paths. Healers were used, but they served from the shadows. They were not to be seen, and were not worthy of the respect and admiration of the masses. Before you could begin to feel any curiosity and pride in your powers, you were instructed by your parents to hide your abilities. They would not be the parents of a lowly healer, that much was made clear to you at the age of eight.

There was so much pressure put on you that it became hard to take. Between combat lessons and lectures from your father about the qualities of a proper Noxian, you had no time to be like the other young girls you saw walk by outside from the view at your window. Your only free time in the day was when your parents finally decided that your wounds from practice were severe enough to end early, and you were sent to your room to heal your own wounds. They knew that you still used your powers, but it seemed to be a comfort to them that you did it hidden away in your room, away from the judging eyes of Noxian society.

When you turned ten, your parents added stealth training to your lessons, as assassins were becoming a larger presence in the ranks of the Noxian military. These were the only lessons that you looked forward to; your teacher was incredibly harsh and ruthless, but you put immediate use to your new stealth prowess by sneaking out of your house at night. What started as an attempt to test your skills turned into almost weekly trips into the city to satisfy your curiosities about the world outside the fortress that was your home.

The nighttime streets of Noxus posed little danger to you. There were always shady things going on, but nobody had any care for one lone child as long as you stayed out of their business. You were careful to be back before your parents noticed you were gone, as you had come to fear their ire more than anything.

What little pocket money you were given was spent on a small bakery that made sweet buns that your parents would never let you have otherwise. You knew they would be unhappy to hear that you were deviating from their plan for you, even a small infraction like sweet buns would likely earn you a verbal lashing or a day without food. Noxian tough love at its finest.

Your training that day had been especially hard; you were fairly certain that your teacher had broken some part of your arm, and those always took you forever to heal and left you feeling exhausted. If there were any day you needed a sweet bun, it was today. You waited only a few minutes after your parents left for a meeting to sneak out of your window. You normally would be more patient, but you wanted your sweet bun immediately. Your parents’ meetings with other Noxian officials usually ran for several hours, so you would have plenty of time to get to the bakery and back with them being none the wiser.

The streets were as busy as usual; Noxus came alive at night with activity. You had made this trip so many times that you could almost do it with your eyes closed. The small bakery was no more than a twenty minute walk from your house, ten if you ran the whole way there. You didn’t see many familiar faces on the way, but that was usual for Noxus. Not a lot of people who came out to play at night liked to openly flaunt their faces to the public while conducting shady dealings.

There was never a long line at the bakery, and today was no exception. The small, unassuming store never saw much late night traffic, which worked out for you as the owner would often give you an extra sweet bun as they would otherwise go bad overnight.

You greeted the owner meekly. As nice as she was, she was still a pureblood Noxian, built intimidatingly despite her profession. You were never sure if she liked you or not, because her face remained stony even as you watched her add two extra sweet buns to the bag before handing it to you. You smiled despite your nervousness; an extra two sweet buns was something to be excited about in your world right now.

The whole encounter had only taken a few minutes at most, and you were confident that you would make it home with plenty of time and have enough sweet buns for the next few days. You were so busy counting the buns that you were caught off guard by a brash laugh ringing out near you. You nearly dropped the bag of buns as you hurriedly backed up into an alley and peeked out to see your combat trainer walking along with several other men.

You couldn’t let him see you. There was no way that he wouldn’t report you to your parents if he caught you sneaking out. You waited for him to walk by the alley you were hiding in so you could run home, but as if fate was taunting you, him and his buddies came to a stop just beside where you were hiding.

Your brain went into panic mode. You had been doing well with your stealth lessons, but you had never managed to beat your trainer in combat. His battle instincts were hardened over time, and there was no way that you could sneak past him when he was mere feet from you. You would have to find another way home.

You didn’t give it another thought, slowly backing farther into the alleyway, your eyes on your teacher, terrified that he would suddenly notice you. But he was caught up with his companions, and your fears were unfounded. As soon as you got to the end of the alleyway, you turned and ran in whatever direction you felt might get you to your home.

The alleyways were all connected, and you found yourself in a maze of grungy walls. You didn’t know where you were or when you would find yourself on the streets again. You only felt like you could breathe when the next turn finally brought you out in the open air again. But with that came the realization that you were definitely lost. This was bad.

You felt tears prick at your eyes immediately. You had never been caught sneaking out before, but you knew your parents would not be forgiving. You stumbled forward, wiping your tears on your sleeve as you looked at your surroundings.

The area was barren; thick, grey stone walls of nearby buildings caged the area in. Your eyes were immediately drawn to a small bridge, one that had not seen water beneath it in a long time, as the soil beneath it looked thirsty and cracked. With how much trouble you had gone to in order to accidentally stumble upon this place, you had to assume that its location was lost to most, hidden by the swirling alleyways.

Clearly some people still found their way here, you assumed, as you noticed some blood on the ground that looked still somewhat fresh. You took another look around, but didn’t see anyone, so you felt that it was safe to proceed.

You were going to walk around the bridge until you noticed a glint of silver from beneath the bridge that drew your curiosity. You changed course, climbing down from the small ledge that separated the two sides connected by the bridge, taking a few steps forward only to fall on your back in shock as a figure rushed at you, their gleaming silver knife just missing the flesh of your chest.

You gasped in fear, holding the bag of sweet buns to your chest as your attacker emerged from the shadows of under the bridge. You were confused… he was just a boy. A boy no older than you were. He had shaggy brown hair, and was wearing a ragged-looking pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt that was torn and stained red on one sleeve, droplets of red falling from the fabric to the floor as he stared you down, knife still raised high. His eyes were both angry and afraid, and you found yourself more concerned for him than you were afraid of him.

He made no further movements toward you, which gave you a little more time to look at him. He was dirty, like he had slept outdoors for a month or longer. And his exposed arm not only gave you a look at the deep cut along his forearm, but also at how thin it was. What had you stumbled upon?

“Hey…” He flinched at the sound of your voice. “Do you want me to heal that?”

He looked wary and confused, but not like he would hurt you, so you stood up slowly, dusting yourself off. You took a step towards him, and he took one back in return. “Wait, please! I have healing magic and your arm looks like it really hurts!”

He glared at you, his brown eyes full of suspicion, but he didn’t move, staying still as a statue as you walked over to him and took his injured arm and held it gently. You could feel his eyes on you as you placed your paper bag on the floor, his eyes tracking your every movement. You gently ran a hand just above his wound, and watched as the blue glow swirled from your fingertips and began to mend his flesh, leaving not even a scratch behind when you were done.

“You…” he whispered, staring at his arm in awe.

You grinned sheepishly. “I’ve never healed someone else before.”

He put down his knife at last as he lifted his arm up to his face to look at it the second that you released your hold on him. He almost seemed to forget that you were there, and you reached down to pick up your bag of sweets. The crinkling of the paper bag drew his attention from his arm, and you had a brief mental war with yourself; you had been looking forward to the buns, but he was so thin, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that he was hungry.

With a bit of selfish reluctance that you pushed down, you held the bag out to him. He looked a little confused, so you reached into the bag and pulled out a bun. “I got some sweet buns… they’re really good!”

You held it out to him, plastering a grin on your face to try and seem less scary. It was such a silly thought; he’s the one with a knife and here you were trying not to scare him off. As a last attempt, you ripped a small piece from the bun and popped it in your mouth. You had really missed these, and if he didn’t want them, you would eat them yourself!

He snatched the bag so fast that you almost dropped it. You watched as he took a bun out of the bag and bit into it, devouring the whole thing in a matter of seconds. You giggled as you watched him eagerly eat a second bun as well.

You realized that you didn’t know his name, and readily introduced yourself, asking for his name in return. He stared at you, eyes flickering to the paper bag as he mumbled his reply.

“…Talon.”

“Nice to meet you, Talon!” you replied with a grin.

Your focus was then drawn to the skyline, the sun almost fully vanished from the sky. You had to get home before it was too late, but you still didn’t know the way. Maybe your new friend would know?

“Hey, Talon?” you asked. “Do you know how to get back to the main streets? I’m kinda lost and I have to get home before my parents get back.”

You could have sworn he looked a little sad as he nodded. “This way.”

He carefully set the bag of buns under the bridge, where you also saw a few trinkets and a threadbare blanket. You didn’t want to make him sad, so you didn’t bring up his dreary living arrangements, instead choosing to follow him over past the other side of the bridge and through a very narrow alleyway, barely wide enough for you to fit through.

It was a short walk, but the alley was too thin for most adults to get through, so you could see why the spot with the bridge was so isolated and empty. It had probably been built long ago, before all the other buildings had been here to close it off from the world’s notice. Gradually, more and more light began to filter into the dim alley path until you arrived on a street you were surprised to discover that you found to be familiar.

“I can get home from here!” you announced happily, and Talon only nodded in response.

He brushed past you, and you felt sad at the imminent loss of his company. You had no friends; the only kids your age you were ever around were your parents’ friends’ children, and all they cared about was showing off their combat prowess by giving you more bruises than you could count.

You grabbed Talon’s sleeve without thinking about what you wanted to say, which resulted in a short moment of silence. “Can I come see you again?”

He looked at you for a moment before turning his face away. “Do whatever you want.”

“Okay, then I’ll come and see you again soon!” you promised.

You were going to take his answer for a yes, and waved goodbye to him before dashing back onto the streets, keeping a careful eye out for your trainer as you hurried home.

Your heart was racing in your ears as you crawled back through your window, terrified that your parents had noticed your absence or your trainer had seen you. But as you sat on your bed for the next few hours with only your thoughts as company, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Not that night, or the next day. You were hyper observant of the behavior of everyone around you, but noticed nothing unusual at all. After a few days, you were finally confident enough to say that you had not been caught.

As soon as your paranoia faded, curiosity took its place. You had never had a friend before, and the fact that he was a secret friend that your parents didn’t know about just made you more excited to see him again. You excitedly counted down the days until your parents would attend another meeting. You had so little to look forward to as of late, and the mysterious boy was just what you needed. A friend that wouldn’t judge you, or report your failings back to your parents. Part of you knew that you didn’t know Talon very well yet and he may end up being a jerk, but the bigger part of you was too excited to have a real friend to think of much else.

You began to visit Talon every chance you got. Your parents had been having lots of meetings lately, and you took every opportunity to go see your new friend. At first he seemed surprised to see you again, like he thought that you wouldn’t make good on your promise. He still didn’t talk much, but you did enough talking for the both of you, telling him about your life and your parents as he silently listened and ate the sweet buns that you always brought him. He never told you much about his life, but eventually he admitted that he didn’t have any parents, which you had suspected. You wondered about him, but didn’t want to make him feel bad, so you never pried. He would often have new cuts or scratches, which you happily healed for him. It felt good to be able to use your powers to help someone, even though your parents had forbidden it. You and Talon were secret friends, and nothing would keep you from seeing him.

In hindsight, you had been overconfident. You were stupid to think that a ten-year-old girl could keep such a big secret from parents that happened to be high ranking Noxian officials. You had been in your own little bubble for the few months that you had been seeing Talon for that you began to get sloppy covering your tracks. Your parents had noticed a shift in your personality, and unbeknownst to you had instructed your stealth teacher to follow you when you were alone.

You had seen Talon as usual before heading home, not knowing that it would be your last visit to your friend. You felt your blood freeze in your veins as you crawled into your window as you always did… only to find your parents standing in your room. The stern glares on their faces told you that something was wrong, and your stealth teacher entering the room sent you to your knees with fear as the assassin calmly gave your parents a report of all that you had done when you were out.

Your parents listened quietly, and your father’s solemn nod made you think that things might not be as bad as you thought until he opened his mouth. “Kill the boy.”

“No!” you wailed. “Don’t hurt him, please!”

“We cannot have you believing that associating with street orphans is acceptable behavior,” your mother added. “Not for a future general of Noxus like yourself.”

Scared tears ran down your cheeks as you pleaded desperately for Talon’s life. “I won’t see him again! Please don’t kill him! I’ll stay here and I won’t leave again!”

Your parents regarded you coldly, and you watched as a smug smile slowly grew on your mother’s face. “See that you don’t. That street urchin is a distraction, and you must have no distractions if you want to succeed.”

You were almost too scared to breathe. Did that mean that they wouldn’t have Talon killed? Even if it meant that you couldn��t see him anymore, you had to save him.

Your father sneered at you. “Stop snivelling. I will spare the boy, provided you do what you must for the future of Noxus. You must learn now to keep to your word or I will be forced to undertake measures to ensure that you do.”

You were so relieved that Talon would be okay that you didn’t think about what your father had meant until the next day when you came back to your room after sparring to find bars on your windows. Your door began to be locked whenever you were in it. You were truly a prisoner in your own home.

Your life became training and sleeping; every little kindness or happiness you had before was stripped away the moment you had been caught. At first, you wept for your lost friend, wondering how he was doing and if he missed you as much as you missed him. You had gone so long without friends, and to have the only one that you ever had ripped away from you took from you the last bit of fight that you possessed. You would be a good little possession and never disobey your parents again, although it wasn’t as if you had any choice in the matter now. Your life had always been in their hands and it was either obey or perish.

As the years went by, you stopped crying for Talon, as it had been so long that your time with him was a fading memory. You sometimes wondered what happened to him, but those times became few and far between. When you had reached adulthood, your parents finally eased some restrictions on you, but by then they had already broken you with years of harsh restrictions. You had no desire to leave your room, even if the door was unlocked.

The main difference now that you were no a longer a child was the political lectures really ramping up. You were forced to memorize names and faces of both ally and enemy to your parents. They would bring you along to lesser important functions and you were expected to have a response ready for anyone who conversed with you. You would be happy to stay home, but now that you were a picture of the perfect Noxian lady, your mother insisted on showing all of their hard work off.

You were starting to get restless with your sudden debut into Noxian social circles; it was painfully obvious to you that you had never socialized with anyone who hadn’t been paid by your parents. You were proper and knowledgeable, but never made any real connections. You didn’t know what to say to the people your age that truly enjoyed engaging in brutal violence for the sake of Noxus, and you certainly didn’t care to talk about which enemy of Noxus had been assassinated that week.

It was at your mother’s insistence that you finally reinstated the previously forbidden walks you had taken as a child, as your despondency to the world had long affected you at social functions you were dragged to. You supposed it would be impossible for her to do anything solely for your own benefit, but you had agreed after she had insisted that you would not be trailed on these walks. So there you were, at the age of twenty-four, taking your first walk alone outside in fourteen years.

You had been places with your parents, but you didn’t stop to enjoy the scenery, so it was a new experience for you. The city had changed and evolved since you had been kept indoors. Now that you had your own agency for the short time your mother had allotted for you to walk around, you found your feet taking you to that same alleyway you had gone through to see Talon so long ago. You knew you were being dumb, there was no way he was still there waiting for you. You had no idea if he was even still alive, the Noxian streets being as they were. But something inside you insisted that you had to see for yourself, but the alley was too thin for you to get through now that you were an adult.

The small alley may have stopped a less capable person, but you had nothing in your life to focus on but training, so scaling a building was nothing for you now. You knew there were people around you, but you would be up and over the building before any of them could stop you and question you on what you were doing.

You nimbly ran along the rooftop before scaling down the side of it to land right in front of the old bridge. You almost felt like you were ten years old again, coming to meet your friend. But that was so long ago, and hope had left you that day. You were simply here to satisfy your unrelenting curiosity, chasing after some closure.

You approached the bridge, some small part of you expecting to see the boy sitting there. But there was nobody and nothing. Not even Talon’s old dusty blanket. No sign that he had ever been here, although you knew that you hadn’t imagined him. You sat down where he used to be, losing yourself in your only recorded happy memories for a few minutes until you decided it was time to leave. Your mother would be expecting you, and there was nothing more for you here.

You began to notice a pattern with when you were being sent out on walks. Whenever you would come back, you would cross paths with associates of your parents who were just leaving. Without fail, your parents always seemed to have company over while you were gone.

Your parents had never hid their work away from you so obviously before, and had been bringing you with them to their strategic meetings before this pattern had started. So what had changed? What were they doing that they were trying to hide from you?

You knew it must be nothing good; your parents were endlessly ambitious, and this time, their plan must be something big. Something they couldn’t risk even their daughter knowing about. You were curious, but more than that, you began to worry. Were your parents getting in over their heads? They were tough, but they weren’t invulnerable.

You had to know what they were getting themselves into. But you knew that they would never tell you if you asked. You tried to brainstorm ideas as you walked around town the next time you had been sent out at your mother’s urging, but nothing was coming to mind. You did everything they asked of you, so why couldn’t they trust you with whatever they were planning?

The streets were too loud, and it was proving to be too much of a distraction for you to concentrate on your own thoughts. You decided to divert your path at the next alleyway, heading down the dingy path once you determined it to be vacant. Almost immediately, you noticed a change in the volume of the world around you; the raised voices and noises of society dulled the farther down the back alley you walked.

Even being in total silence did nothing for your current dilemma. What could you do to discover the truth without your parents finding out? Wracking your brain for ideas only ended up giving you the familiar tinges of pain that you knew would turn into a headache if you didn’t give yourself a break from thinking yourself to death.

You came to an abrupt stop as you noticed a figure slumped against a wall just ahead of you. Cursing yourself internally for not paying attention to your surroundings, you weighed your options. You could turn around and go right back where you had come from; one glance at the person told you that they didn’t even seem to have noticed you yet. They were likely a drunk or a vagrant, and you knew that your years of training meant that if you wanted to escape from them, then they wouldn’t be able to stop you.

But another part of you felt compelled by your mother’s lectures on pride. You shouldn’t be afraid to walk by one drunk passed out in an alleyway. You needed to hold your head up high and show this person that you were not a coward, nor someone to be messed with. You felt embarrassed when you realized you had gotten in your own head again, and a distinctly male groan from the person just ahead of you spurned your feet into action.

You would just walk right on past him, like it was no big deal. But you couldn’t help but scrutinize him as you got closer. You couldn’t see his face, as he wore a long blue hooded cape, the hood hanging down over his eyes. You were surprised to see the cape split into tails that were tipped with sharp blades, as well as the large blade strapped to his wrist and forearm. You knew then that the man wasn’t just a drunk in an alleyway, but the time it took to make that observation cost you dearly.

You took too long to realize the danger he truly posed, as before you could blink, you cried out as you were pushed against the wall behind you, the man’s blade at your neck.

“So eager to die,” a deep voice growled as you stared down at his blade, knowing that he only had to press it a little more into your neck to end your life.

Now that he was right in your face, and much taller than you, the hood did much less to obscure his face from your view. He was handsome, something that may have flustered you if you weren’t in mortal peril. His dark brown hair hung just above his eyes and was cut to his collar. His face was angular, his expression set in haughty intimidation, but something about his face called an almost-lost memory to the surface.

“Talon…” you spoke before you could think.

You were too preoccupied with the past. Now this man would think you were a basket case, and you didn’t think that would improve your chances of surviving this encounter. But you were surprised to see that man stumble back from you with a surprised huff. What had happened? Was there some new threat you would have to worry about on top of the assassin in front of you? Unless… could you dare to hope?

“…are you really Talon?” you asked softly, advancing on the man.

“My name is not your concern,” he growled back at you, and then you noticed the blood.

How had you missed it? There was a large tear in the front of his shirt, which revealed both lean stomach muscles as well as a horrible wound that was gushing blood. No wonder he had been slumped over like a drunk; it was a miracle that he could stand at all with a wound that bad. Just as fast as he had advanced on you, he was now trying to flee using whatever endurance he had left. But you knew that without treatment, he wouldn’t be able to make it very far. And whatever had happened to him, whatever he had become since you had last seen him, you weren’t willing to lose him so soon after you had found him again.

“Please don’t run!” you pleaded, hastily telling him your name in hopes that he would remember you. “You’re really hurt! Let me help you!”

He tried to back up further down the alleyway, but since he was injured, you were faster than he was now. He put his blade up to resist, but then his arm dropped by his side as he felt your healing magic connect with his deep wound. He stared into your eyes with an expression that you couldn’t read as his wound healed rapidly before your eyes, and then he was left with a bare patch of torso that showed no signs of injury at all. Before he could even begin to calculate a next move, you lunged at him, wrapping your arms tightly around him, his surprised grunt echoing in the empty alleyway.

“I didn’t think I would see you again!” you cried, allowing him to push you gently back and create some distance between the two of you.

He was careful not to hurt you, but his eyes were not the same shy boy you had known before. His expression was dark, clouded with the years of pain that you couldn’t even begin to decipher.

“Don’t get any closer to me. I’m not the weak child I once was,” he snarled, and the anger in his voice shattered what hope was still in your heart that maybe he had missed you too.

“Talon, please–” you began, inching closer to him, desperate to not lose him again.

He stared at you for a short moment, his gaze unwaveringly cold, before he turned and scaled the tall wall of the alley in the blink of an eye, and then he was gone.

You could have tried to follow him, but his rejection stung you fiercely. The only person in your life who you ever had a genuine connection with, and it turned out that he didn’t care at all. It had been so long, you told yourself, and he had grown up. He had no obligation to a girl he knew when he was ten, a girl he probably thought had abandoned him. He didn’t have to care about you and you knew that you shouldn’t have put those expectations in your head. Clearly the time you had spent together as children was only precious to you.

You were too stunned to cry as you turned and ran all the way home. Your abrupt entrance startled your parents, who had still been in a meeting with their associates, a bunch of documents spread out in front of them on the table. You rushed past them and to your room before your mother could yell at you, burying your face in your pillow as the tears finally came.

You were so stupid. That was the single thought that coursed through your mind that night and the entire next day. You had trouble focussing on anything else, and had paid the price in training when your teacher had almost dislocated your shoulder. You tried not to be upset, but giving up your secret hope that maybe Talon had been thinking about you all those years too was more than you could take right now. You needed a distraction.

Luckily for you, your parents were finally attending a meeting that wasn’t at your house that night. You had been curious about those papers they had in front of them, which would undoubtedly be kept in their study now. And with your father’s insistence that you stay behind and work on improving your earlier failures in combat, you had the perfect cover to do some snooping around. You bid them farewell with a smile you hoped didn’t look too eager for them to leave. They were none the wiser, and left the home at last, leaving you alone with your plan.

Their study was locked, which didn’t surprise you. But you had been trained in picking locks, even expensive and complicated locks such as this one. You just had to be patient and find the trick to this ones. Your steady hands paid off as you finally heard the click of the lock disengaging after several minutes of picking it.

You carefully hung the lock on the inside of the door as you stepped into the room. You had never been in here before, but it was certainly less exciting than the grand study you had imagined when you had pictured it in your head before. There were two large desks, as well as a simple table with a large map strewn across it. The most daunting part of the room was the sheer amount of papers laid across both desks and even spilling onto the floor.

You were confused; you had never known your parents to be anything but tidy and orderly, almost to a militant level. This level of disorder was so unusual that it was setting off your already frazzled nerves. You felt a deep sense of foreboding settle in your stomach as you bent down to pick up the papers that had fallen onto the floor.

Looking over the papers in your hands, you only had more questions instead of answers. You were looking at a list of meeting dates, as well as the names of those who attended the meetings, some of which you recognized as people you had been introduced to before. The names were generally the same under every meeting, but you couldn’t make any sense of what your parents needed the lists for.

You discarded the papers on the table, choosing instead to look over the map that was spread out over most of the table’s surface. It was an ordinary map of the city, but it had been dotted with arrows and a large circle drawn around the Noxian war command building in the center of the city. Was there something happening there? Could Noxus possibly be starting another war?

Feeling even more worried, you began to rifle through the papers on the desks, paying no mind as to how you would put everything back in its place when you were done. You were desperate for information, but the first few papers you looked at gave you no new insights. A breakdown of the defence budget, a summons for a meeting; you discarded papers left and right, looking for anything that stood out. Just as you were ready to toss a particularly wordy paper to the side, the name at the top of the page caught your eye.

General Du Couteau.

Reading over the document, you discovered that it was a report on the general’s daily activities. Why would your parents need this? It didn’t seem to be provided by the general himself, which meant that your parents had someone following the general’s movements and reporting them back. A quick glance at the bottom of the list told you that it extended to today, and the last note made your blood run cold.

Du Couteau will be in place at the war command building. Assassination will take no more than ten minutes.

The note was written in your father’s handwriting, unlike the foreign scrawl of the rest of the document. You couldn’t breathe; your parents planned to assassinate General Du Couteau, the leader of the Noxian army. Suddenly the scribbles on the map made sense. They had been plotting this for who knows how long, and it seemed like tonight was when they executed their plan.

You forced yourself to move, to sift through the remaining documents as fast as you could; you needed to know why they were doing this. Killing the head of the Noxian army was treason of the highest order; you knew that your parents were overly ambitious, but you never thought that they would plot to kill one of Noxus’ most high-ranking officials simply for their own gain. But the more documents you read, the more it became clear. Your parents were unsatisfied with their positions, deeply jealous of perceived favoritism from others towards Du Couteau, and were ready to do something about it. Tonight.

You had to stop them. This time their greed had brought them to a place where they might not be able to come back from, and you couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. The assassination was happening potentially any minute now, and you had to get to them before they made a choice they couldn’t take back.

You threw the papers back on the desk and turned around to sprint out of the room. You didn’t stop to change or grab any weapons, leaving the house and running towards the war command building in a pair of flimsy shoes and the short-sleeved black shirt and pants that you always trained in. Your feet were hurting, and you were sure that people were staring at you as you passed, but you couldn’t afford to pay any of that any mind.

As you got to the building, you could tell that something was already wrong. You had passed by here sometimes on your walks, and the place was always heavily guarded. But right now, you could see no guards, nobody outside the large building at all. It worked well for you now since you could pass through the gate and approach the heavy doors without any difficulty, but you knew that it was a bad sign for whatever was happening inside right now.

You pushed open the door and nearly fell, skidding to a stop by grasping onto the wall. Looking down, you realized what you had slipped in. The entryway was a bloody mess, and your shoes were now sticky and wet with the blood that ran from the corpses of several guards that lay on the floor.

You now understood what had happened to the guards outside, and the brutality was almost too much for you to bear. Throats ripped open, bones and organs visible, eyes still open, reflecting the shock and pain of their final moments. It was horrible, but you knew that they were too far gone for you to possibly save. You could not bring back the dead.

Things that you could not undo had already happened, and you knew that you had to move on. If you didn’t get to your parents soon, Noxus would lose its most valued general, and the entire country would be sent into a civil war. You steadied your feet, carefully stepping around the blood that flooded the floors and running farther into the building.

You encountered more guards the farther in you went, but they were all dead, just like the others. Whatever had happened here, the responsible parties had already moved on. As you got deeper into the building, you began to follow your ears. You could hear the sounds of a commotion, which gave you hope that you weren’t too late. You finally had a door in sight, and sprinted down the hallway to reach it as fast as possible.

Just as you were getting within reach of the door handle, a scream from within the room stilled your hand. The scream rang out with pain, but you recognized the sound of your mother’s voice anywhere. You forced your hand to move, throwing the door open and rushing inside.

You were too late, that much was clear to you. But not for the reason that you had thought.

It was a bloodbath. Bodies littered the floor, their blood covering the ground in a layer of red. You didn’t see Du Couteau anywhere, but you did see your mother as she fell to the ground, and you immediately recognized the deadly redhead behind her as she collected her knife from where it had been embedded in your mother’s back.

Your mother laid still on the ground, and made no movements or sounds. Your eyes were then drawn to the body that lay next to her… your father. They were both clearly dead. Even without looking at them, you knew that the deadly Katarina Du Couteau didn’t leave targets alive.

Now that you saw her here, you knew. It had all been a farce. General Du Couteau wasn’t here, and it was obvious that he had seen through your parents’ plan and sent his own assassins in to deal with the traitors. Your parents and their cohorts had never stood a chance.

You couldn’t help a gasp at watching your mother die before your eyes, a sound which you regretted the moment it brought Katarina’s attention to you. She twirled a dagger in her hand, the same dagger she had just killed your mother with, sending you a smirk that promised you that you were next.

Before you could blink, she had disappeared, and you were barely able to roll forward to avoid being stabbed in the back with her dagger. She slashed forward with a cry, and you scrambled to your feet to avoid the blow. Since she had appeared behind you, she had cut off your exit. There was very little chance of you getting past her and back out the door. You didn’t see any other living people in this room, which meant that she had singlehandedly executed everyone in here by herself. You knew immediately that this would likely be your tomb as well.

She was so fast, and it was all you could do to keep just ahead of her blades. But your dodging would not save you forever, and she was very obviously backing you into a corner. But you had no weapons, so you had no way to fight back and prevent her from caging you in. You were paralyzed with fear as your back hit the wall; you hadn’t even realized that you were that close to the wall to begin with.

Katarina’s dark laughter sent a shiver down your spine, and you could only watch as she raised her dagger, sauntering slowly over to you as she knew she had you trapped, and there was no need for her to rush. You couldn’t look at her anymore; if she was going to kill you, you just wanted it to be over with. You couldn’t make peace with this awful situation, but you could stand your ground here and not cry. You closed your eyes, breathing in and out as you waited for the impact of her dagger.

You heard her sneer, and braced yourself as best you could, until you heard Katarina let out a disgruntled cry as well as the clang of steel meeting steel. You obviously weren’t dead, so you opened your eyes to see why.

You could barely even see Katarina over the tall figure that stood between you and her. From how you had last parted, you didn’t think Talon wanted anything to do with you, but here he was, blocking Katarina’s dagger with his own blade. You didn’t know why he was here, but you were grateful for his help.

“You want to handle her yourself, Talon?” she asked him, and you felt numb as you realized that they were clearly on the same side. Why was he standing in the way right now then? Did he truly wish to kill you himself?

“Katarina…” Talon growled, and she rolled her eyes in response, sheathing her daggers.

She shrugged her shoulders in a manner that was too casual for being in a room full of people she had just killed. “Suit yourself. I’ve had enough of a workout today anyways.”

You both watched her go, and Talon didn’t turn around until she had left the room.

“Why are you here?”

The question startled you, and the anger in his voice made it hard for you to look at him. “My parents… I followed them here. They…”

He didn’t answer, and you finally looked at him. “Talon… you work for Du Couteau?”

He looked like he wanted to snarl at you again, but your saddened expression made him reconsider his answer. “…yes.”

The carnage around you devastated you, and as much as you wanted to grab onto Talon to remain afloat, he had shown no signs of warmth towards you. You couldn’t read him at all, and were scared to voice the thoughts in your head, scared to ask him if he was going to kill you in Katarina’s stead.

Talon turned away from you again, and you felt compelled to call out to him. “Wait!”

“Go home,” he replied sternly, and you got the impression that he was trying to put a wall between the two of you with his words. “You don’t need to get involved with me.”

“Talon!”

He didn’t reply, turning invisible before your eyes. You had no way to chase someone who was invisible, so you were forced to let him go. You just wished he would tell you why he was so desperate to pull as far away from you as he could.

You knew that you couldn’t stay in this room that smelled so strongly of blood that it was making you feel ill. You kept your eyes on the door, trying desperately not to look at the bodies of the dead, especially your parents. You should feel devastated at the loss of your parents, but you just felt sad. You had never held any great love for them, only respected them out of fear, and the notion that you would no longer be bound to their goals for you gave you a sense of freedom that you had never felt before.

They had aimed their ambitions too high, and the cost had been too great to bear. From what you knew of General Du Couteau, he was not a forgiving man. His ruthlessness and cunning had brought much to Noxus, but it also reflected back on his own people. Noxus stamps out the weak, and your parents were no exception. Their lust for power had made them an easy target for Du Couteau to flex his own power. You didn’t know what you would do now, but you couldn’t stay here. Especially if anyone decided to come back to make sure the job was done.

The way home was a blur. The moment you got home, you realized that you couldn’t recall the walk back at all. The house was silent, which somehow felt more oppressive than when your parents were here. You trudged back to your room, the blood on your shoes and pants leaving droplets behind you as you walked.

You tore your shoes and pants off before grabbing a cloth to scrub at the semi-dried blood on your calves and feet. You couldn’t recall when you had eaten last, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to have any desire to eat. All of your recent stress was collapsing upon you, and you laid down on your bed as you felt all of your energy leave you. You would worry about all of this tomorrow, because you couldn’t keep yourself conscious any longer.

You felt resolved the next morning; you knew what you wanted to do. You would try to talk to Talon one last time. You wanted him to tell you directly he hated you, that he wanted nothing to do with you, something. He had been sending you so many mixed signals that you wanted a straight answer for once. You would be hurt to hear him tell you that he didn’t care for you at all, but then you would know. Then you could stop deluding yourself and clinging to a fruitless hope.

Now that you knew he worked for Du Couteau, you had an idea of where you could find him. The Du Couteau estate was huge, and likely housed many members of the general’s faction, and you were hoping that included Talon. You had to give it one last try. Whatever happened today, your life in Noxus was over.

You knew that it would not be long before the news spread of your parents’ failed attempt on the general’s life, and as their kin, you knew a target would be on your head. You had maybe a full day at the most to grab what you could and flee Noxus before the general’s loyalists stormed your home to claim your head as a prize to present to the general.

You knew that to go to the Du Couteau compound was essentially walking into a den of hungry wolves, but getting one last chance to talk to Talon was worth it to you. You just hoped that it wouldn’t cost you your life.

You bathed and changed into something more presentable before you began to set aside everything you would need to leave this place behind forever. If you had as little time as you thought you did, it would help to have your things ready to grab and go as soon as you returned. You packed lightly for the short trip to the Du Couteau estate, bringing along a single dagger for protection but hoping that you wouldn’t need to use it.

You tried to calm yourself down during the walk over, but you couldn’t help feeling like you were walking to your own execution. You had no idea what would happen when you got there, but you intended to stick to your decision. You wanted to see Talon one last time, if only to say goodbye.

You approached the estate to find two burly guards talking amongst themselves, both garbed in Noxian military uniforms. They didn’t look approachable by any stretch of the imagination, but you didn’t have anything to lose. If they told you to leave, you likely wouldn’t be able to push it.

You forced yourself to at least put on a façade of confidence as you approached the men. You could tell that they were appraising you as you came obviously within their notice, assumedly assessing whether or not you were a threat. You hoped that you looked innocent enough, despite the dagger that you had hidden on your person.

“What’re ya here for?” one of the men asked as he stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at you.

Your mouth felt dry as you realized that you hadn’t really planned what you would say to them. You couldn’t just come out of the gate and say you were here to see an assassin who may or may not live here.

You were taking too long to answer, and the other man raised a hand to rest it on the hilt of the sword at his waist in a threatening manner. “If you don’t have business with the general, I will ask you only once to leave.”

“She has business with me,” a sultry voice rang out as a hand was placed on your shoulder from behind.

You looked back quickly to see Katarina Du Couteau standing behind you, brushing a loose strand of crimson hair out of her face with the hand that wasn’t on your shoulder. She didn’t return your startled glance, staring ahead at the guards with her eyebrow raised impatiently, lips curled downwards in a frown.

The guards’ posture became rigid immediately, and they almost tripped over themselves to open the gate for you. Katarina brushed past you and walked toward the gate, turning back and gesturing for you to follow her when she noticed that you were still frozen in place. You were just making all sorts of dangerous decisions today, but she didn’t seem to be posing a threat to you at the moment, so you followed her onto the grounds of the estate.

She didn’t head into the large building, instead leading you into a small garden at the side of the estate. You didn’t see anyone around, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Katarina was a hard woman to read, and you were still trying to wrap your head around why she had helped you out with the guards in the first place.

“I really should kill you,” she said as she examined her nails, before her eyes snapped up to meet yours with a smirk on her lips. “But lucky for you, I’m enjoying seeing a little crack in Talon’s armor at last.”

“What do you mean?” you asked carefully, not wanting to provoke her into putting her initial statement into action.

“Don’t bother pretending,” she laughed. “I know Talon, and he doesn’t stick his neck out for anybody. But he protected you, and I want to know why.”

Her voice was light and conversational, a complete departure from yesterday when she had come at you with everything she had. You didn’t have to explain things to her, but her words gave you hope that maybe she would have some insight into why Talon was acting the way he was. And so you told her your story, probably more than you needed to, but it felt good to let someone in on your secrets. She listened with a thoughtful look on her face, and didn’t interrupt once, even as you described what you found in your parents’ office, and what had led up to you rushing to the war command hall the previous night.

“So he had a childhood sweetheart,” Katarina replied at last, looking smug.

“Um, I don’t think we were…” you trailed off, feeling yourself get flustered.

“That’s not what he thinks,” she refuted smoothly. “I have never seen him protect anyone weaker than him without being ordered to by my father.”

You flinched slightly at being called weak to your face, but Katarina didn’t seem to mean it as an insult, just a fact. It was the Noxian way to be brutally honest, and you couldn’t deny her assertion anyways. Even with all your training, you were a long ways off from the likes of her and Talon.

You were about to reply, but closed your mouth when you heard her click her tongue. You quickly noticed that it wasn’t directed at you; she was looking at a spot over your shoulder, and you turned your head back to see a man exiting the estate through the front doors.

“You should probably leave now,” she muttered lowly. “That’s one of my father’s advisors. He can never mind his own business.”

She began to walk back towards the gate, and you hastened to match her pace. If she didn’t like the guy, and she was on the same side as him, then you didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

As you approached the gate, Katarina signalled for the guards to let you through.

“I’ll tell Talon you came by,” she told you, sounding pleased with herself.

“Okay,” you told her, feeling unable to tell her of your immediate plans to leave Noxus as soon as you left here. As you waved goodbye to her and began your journey home, you decided that you would be willing to wait the rest of the day to see if you could see Talon. You could only hope that Katarina would be able to convince him to see you.

You weren’t sure what you had expected to happen, but having girl talk with Katarina Du Couteau was definitely not something you had expected. You took the time on your walk home to mull over her words. Talon was important to you; he had kept you company as a lonely child and protected you as an adult. But Katarina’s words had awoken something that you were embarrassed that you hadn’t even considered. All this time you had been telling yourself that you wanted to seek Talon out because he represented a happy moment to you as a child. But when you thought of him now, you saw his handsome profile in your mind, and felt the residual tingles on your skin that you felt whenever you heard his voice.

You were so in your head that your body was on autopilot, pushing open the door to your house and failing to notice that the door wasn’t locked. You only broke out of your thoughts when the door to the living room was closed right after you entered… but not by you.

You realized immediately that you were surrounded. A large man garbed in black stood behind you, blocking the door and forcing you to move towards the center of the room to get away from him. There was really nowhere for you to run, as there were at least fifteen men scattered around the room. They all seemed to defer to one man who stood facing you, his shoulders squared confidently. Looking around, you didn’t recognize a single one of them. You didn’t think Du Couteau would send his men after you so soon, but here you were. Though the men looked a little rougher than what you would expect of those who served under the general, so you weren’t sure what to make of the situation other than it was not good for you.

The leader stepped forward, and you were unnerved by the way his eyes roved over your body in a way that made you feel entirely too exposed. You wanted to back away from him, but with his lackey right behind you, that wasn’t an option either.

The leader grinned at your panic. “I’m here to honor our deal.”

“Deal?” you retorted. “I don’t even know you!”

“That ain’t my problem,” he replied dismissively. “We made a deal with your parents. We give ‘em the men and supplies, and they give us their precious daughter.”

“My parents are dead!” you said angrily, shocked and infuriated by your parents’ actions. “What they promised has nothing to do with me!”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, and you watched warily as the men around him began to slowly come towards you in an effort to fully cage you in. “I lost a lot of men in that plan of theirs. You got a lot of work to do for this exchange to have been worth my time.”

He wasn’t even listening to you, or he just didn’t care. And his lecherous gaze was sending unpleasant chills along your skin. Looking around, you saw very little ways out of this. Why couldn’t they have waited one more day, when you would have been long gone? Your only advantage would be that you knew your house better than they did.

You couldn’t fight them, not as outnumbered as you were. But you might have a chance to outrun them. Your parents had made this house their fortress, as it had very few weaknesses, but that also meant that there were very few escape routes for you. The men were still advancing slowly on you, and you hoped that you could use the element of surprise to get away from them. There was a small gap between two of the men that led to the stairs up, and you knew there was a window at the end of the long hallway. If you could get out of that window, you could use your speed to get away from them and out of the city. You would have to play this smart.

If you waited a second longer, you would lose your opportunity, so you dashed at the gap with everything you had. They clearly weren’t expecting that, and you were easily able to run to the stairs to a chorus of shouts from the group of men behind you. You heard the leader scream at his men to follow you, and then the air exploded with the sounds of many footsteps following you. But you knew that you were fast, so you continued running as fast as you could. The window was within your sight, and you couldn’t look back now. This was your only option for escape.

You clearly hadn’t thought things through fully as you stumbled with a scream as pain burst in your leg. You turned back to face your pursuers in shock, which was all the time they needed to shoot you again, this time the bullet impacted your chest, just above your heart, and the pain winded you. They were still pretty far behind you, but you couldn’t make it out of the window now, not as injured as you were. The pain was so intense that you could barely think, and you were running out of options.

You had one last option, you realized, as you noticed that you were right next to your parents’ safe room. It wasn’t an escape, but the lock on the room was incredibly tough to crack unless you knew the combination. The men continued to shoot at you, but you were able to punch the passcode in with shaking fingers and crack the door open just enough for you to slip in, the door shutting tightly behind you.

You fell to the floor immediately, the pain raging intensely. You cursed yourself for not noticing that they had guns. You were so close to escaping, and you had botched it. Your consciousness was fuzzy at best, and you knew that you didn’t have the concentration required to call upon your powers to heal yourself, not when it was all you could do to remain conscious. You heard the sounds of gunfire against the door, and the yelling and swearing of the men just outside the room, but it all faded to nothing as you watched blood run from your leg as you began to feel your consciousness drift farther away.

It had been an easy mission. For a trained assassin, his target had been sloppy. He was nothing but weaknesses, his defences so thin that Talon felt like he was felling an injured animal. The targets that were a challenge were always more satisfying, and this one had been a disappointment, both to Talon and likely to whoever had trained him in his mediocre skills.

Talon was silent as he returned to the Du Couteau estate. He didn’t often conduct assassinations in the daytime, usually preferring the cover of night, but he obeyed his orders. General Du Couteau was not a patient or forgiving man, and his orders were absolute. It was the life that Talon had lived for so long that he was used to it. But you were different; you didn’t choose the life of a ruthless assassin, and he had to keep you away from his world.

He never thought that he would see you again. When you had stopped coming to meet him at the bridge, he didn’t know what to think. Eventually, he had accepted that he was on his own and would stay that way. At least until he was defeated by Du Couteau and then joined his ranks.

The only things he knew about you were the bits and pieces that he remembered you telling him when you were children. You had been a brief ray of light in the pitch black of his world. Just like back then, you had healed him without asking for anything in return, which he had never experienced from anyone else in his life.

You were as pure of a soul as they came in Noxus, and Talon had never worked a legitimate job in his life. He had grown up on the streets, thieving and killing when he had to in order to survive. He couldn’t involve you in the danger he faced on a regular basis, and he had pushed you away at every turn to ensure that you stayed away. But he couldn’t figure out why you continued trying to get close to him. Even when he had admitted to being involved with Katarina, who had killed your parents, you had tried to reach out to him. And he had run like a coward.

Every time he thought about you, he felt frustrated. Why were you trying so hard to get close to him after all he had done? He wanted you as far away from this world as possible, even if it meant that you would be far from him as well. He would suppress the part of him from childhood that wanted to let you in and do what he had to do to keep you safe.

As usual, the guards opened the gates for Talon as soon as they saw him. He had a reputation, and both parties preferred if they didn’t have to interact. Not many people went out of their way to talk to him, not when he was one of the three most talented blademasters in the Du Couteau house, and certainly the least friendly.

His plan to head directly to his room was thwarted immediately by one of the few people who did talk to him, despite how little he cared to make casual conversation. Katarina stood just inside the gate, arms crossed and gaze locked on him as if she had been waiting for him to arrive, which was unusual for her unless her father had asked her to pass information on to him. The likelihood of receiving information from the general by way of his daughter was the sole reason his feet stopped in front of her.

She looked pleased with herself, and Talon knew that was a bad sign, especially when she opened her mouth. “Your girl was just here.”

Talon glared at her. Katarina didn’t need to say your name; they both knew who she was talking about. Talon was both impressed and irritated with your courage; coming directly to enemy territory to try and see him was a very dangerous decision. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would take to get you to understand that he wasn’t a good man, and certainly wasn’t worth all the danger he would add to your life just by being in it.

“You should go see her,” Katarina pressed. “She’ll never understand if you just keep acting like a jerk. If you’re not into her, then you’re leading her on by treating her like this.”

“This doesn’t concern you,” he snarled back, the anger clear in his voice. Why was she trying to get so involved in his personal life?

“It concerns her,” Katarina replied back. “What if she comes back here again, Talon? You were lucky I was here. Anyone else would have killed your little girlfriend on the spot.”

Sparks flew in the air between the two assassins. Katarina was grating on his nerves with her nosiness and refusal to back down. Talon was angry, but as little as he wanted to entertain this nonsense right now, at the back of his mind, he had to admit that she was right. He couldn’t let you keep trying to come to find him here. He needed to give you one last shove to keep you away from him. He felt his mood souring, but before he or Katarina could say anything further, their attention was drawn to a commotion at the front gate.

Talon and Katarina both turned to look as the gate opened and one of the house’s messengers rushed in. It was unusual to see the messengers be in such a rush, as there weren’t many emergencies occurring due to the general’s overprepared nature. The messenger was headed to the estate, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the two assassins staring right at him.

He bowed hastily, and Katarina rolled her eyes, prompting him to just spill his news instead of wasting further time. “I was sent to observe the traitors’ house for any movements.”

“…and?” Katarina implored him impatiently.

The man nodded his head too many times; it wasn’t unusual for people to be nervous in Katarina’s presence, but as soon as Talon had heard that it was related to your parents, he was ready to cut the man’s tongue out if he didn’t get on with it.

“There were suspicious movements by a group thought to be allied with the traitors. They broke the lock and entered the home just before the traitor’s daughter returned home. I suspected that they were regrouping their forces to plot against us again, but then I heard gunshots and a woman’s screams, so it seems they’ve turned on each other,” the man reported.

Talon’s ire turned to alarm as he heard the report. You had nothing to do with your parents’ treachery, so that could only mean that one of their disgruntled allies had decided to come after you for their failures. He didn’t have a complete idea of your combat abilities, but he doubted they would be enough for you to take out a group of armed men.

He didn’t spare a moment, immediately running at the estate’s wall and leaping over it, jumping from building to building as he rushed to get to your home as fast as possible. Talon hadn’t felt desperation like this in a long time; he always ensured that situations were under his control, but the thought of you in mortal peril had spurned his feet faster than his mind could keep up with. Here he had been trying not to involve you in his dangerous world, and yet danger had found you anyways. He felt no pity for the men that would soon die by his blade; he could almost feel the steel pulsing with hunger for their blood for even daring to be near you. He could only hope that he wouldn’t arrive too late.

Meanwhile, Katarina watched Talon disappear before turning to the flustered messenger without batting an eye. “No need to report this to my father. I’ll see him myself after we handle this.”

The messenger looked relieved to not have to report to the general himself, but that wasn’t Katarina’s concern. It would be much more convenient for Talon for her father to not hear information related to you. As the man left, Katarina smiled to herself; who did Talon think he was fooling with his uncaring façade? Him rushing immediately to your aid told her more about his true feelings than any of his words had.

But in her brief conversation with you, Katarina had found that she liked you. It was certainly more than dreary around here with all the serious men her father surrounded himself with, and she personally wouldn’t mind having you around again, especially if she got to see Talon acting all lovesick. Talon would likely need help if he wanted to rescue you quickly, so Katarina left the estate as well, following right behind her agitated fellow assassin.

She caught up to him just in time to watch him surveying the scene from the building next to your house. They could both see a group of well-muscled goons patrolling the first floor, but no sign of you.

“Do you think they killed her?” Katarina asked.

Talon’s worry wasn’t strong enough to overpower his battle sense. These men wouldn’t stay at the house if they had accomplished their goal already, which meant that you were likely still somewhere in the house. Talon didn’t need to say his thoughts out loud as Katarina could see the same thing he could.

“I’ll take care of the ones on the first floor,” Katarina asserted, and then they were off.

They both jumped in through an open window, and Katarina stopped to face the group of men. “Hope you boys are ready to dance.”

As Katarina jumped towards them, daggers at the ready, Talon used the distraction to turn invisible and run past them and to the upper level of the house. The sounds of the fighting going on downstairs began to fade, and Talon’s invisibility wore off as he emerged at the start of a long hallway. He didn’t see you anywhere, but zeroed in on several men beating against a door at the end of the hallway.

“Shoot it down if you have to!” one of the men screamed, his face red with fury. “That bitch can’t hide forever!”

“She won’t last long either way with those bullets we got in her!” another man replied with a loud laugh.

Talon didn’t wait a second longer after hearing the men’s words. He moved silently down the hallway, and the men were none the wiser until the sharp end of his blade met the flesh of the leader’s neck, and with one smooth movement, the man’s head had been removed and rolled a few feet down the hall before he could even scream. Blood spurted from his neck as his body fell to the floor, both of his companions screaming when they saw what the furious assassin had done to their boss.

They raised their guns to shoot at Talon, but he was faster, leaping through the men in an instant, the blades on his cape dicing their flesh at the same time he cleaved their heads off their necks to join their leader’s on the floor. Talon didn’t like to be messy, but he needed them dead as fast as possible, and no matter who these lowlifes were, there was no way for them to come back from decapitation.

But if what they had said was true, you didn’t have time to wait. He would have to get to you immediately.

You had been in and out of consciousness, half-feeling like you could hear your mother’s voice telling you to get up, but then realizing that the voice was just a hallucination that your delirious brain had created. By now, your blood had run down your clothes and pooled under you. You knew that you couldn’t lose much more, but that mattered less to you when you knew that you had no power to help yourself. At least you would die on your own terms, far enough from those men that you could die in peace, even if you were in horrendous pain.

You didn’t know how long you had been in the safe room for when the screaming started. You thought it was in your head at first, but the noises continued for a few seconds until it stopped and everything went quiet. You couldn’t heard the men’s voices or them pounding on the door. It seemed impossible to think that they had given up, but even if they did, you couldn’t stand up with your injuries. You were as good as dead.

You felt another wave of intense fatigue hit you just as you heard a new sound from outside the room… a shout of your name. You were willing to write it off until your name was called again, followed by a sound of something impacting the door. The voice sounded so familiar and comforting to you, but you couldn’t place why. It took one more shout of your name to finally put the pieces together in your fuzzy brain.

“Talon!” you cried out, surprised at how rough your voice sounded.

There was a short pause on the other side of the door. “Open the door!”

“I can’t…” you replied sadly. “I can barely–”

You were cut off by another wave of drowsiness, barely able to keep yourself awake this time, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Give me the code!” Talon growled back, sounding desperate.

How was he even here? You still felt like this was a cruel dream. Couldn’t you just die without your brain giving you false hope that you would see Talon one last time?

“The code!” he shouted, his words finally knocking enough sense into you that you were able to focus on listing the numbers to him.

As soon as you did, the door began to open. But you didn’t have the strength to keep your eyes open any longer, and you collapsed fully to the ground, your neck and the back of your head now laying in your own blood. You felt your head be lifted and placed in someone’s lap, gentle fingers brushing your hair from your face.

You forced your eyes to open and saw Talon’s face above you, his clothing stained with blood that didn’t seem to be his. His eyes were focussed on your face, and he stared at you with a gentleness in his eyes that you had never seen before. His mood notably picked up the moment he noticed you looking up at him.

“You need to heal yourself,” he told you sternly.

You shook your head weakly in response. “Can’t…. I can’t focus…”

Your eyes drifted closed again as you felt your body become more and more numb. You couldn’t hold on any longer. At least you had Talon here with you at the end…

Your eyes shot open with a short gasp against his lips as Talon kissed you. You felt like you had been electrocuted by the shock as his lips pressed harder against your own before pulling away at last.

“You’re awake now, aren’t you?” he pressed. “Heal yourself.”

“Talon, you–”

He ignored you. “Heal yourself!” he demanded, and your brain followed the command at last, calling to the power you didn’t think you could use right now.

You watched as the blue glow that you thought was out of your reach grew in your hand. You lacked the strength, so Talon grabbed your hand, bringing it to your chest and watching closely as the bullet was pushed out as your body repaired itself. When he was satisfied that your chest looked much better, he carefully bent you so your hand could reach your leg wound as well, your magic ejecting the other bullet from your skin as well.

The immediate alleviation of pain came as a huge relief, but you realized that using your powers while you were in such a state was beyond anything that your body could cope with. Before you could even warn Talon, you felt your limbs go slack and your head droop, unconsciousness taking you before you knew if Talon had caught you or not.

Katarina pocketed her daggers, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she sauntered upstairs after Talon. Those guys had been all muscle and no skill; she would almost have felt bad if she were a better person. But they were in the way, so they died. They were allied against her father anyways, so there was a likely chance she had just crossed an item off of her to-do list a little early.

Katarina encountered no one until she reached a long hallway, and it was immediately clear that Talon had been here. There were small pools of blood that led to three men, or what was left of them. Their heads had been sliced clean off of their necks and had rolled to various parts of the hallway. Katarina paid them no mind; the sight was no shock to a person like her. Once she got to the bodies, she noticed a door that was slid halfway open that caught her attention.

Walking silently up to the partially-open door, she was able to clearly see Talon kneeling on the floor with your body in his arms. Katarina placed a hand on the door, slowly opening it so she wouldn’t startle him as she entered the room.

“Is she dead?” Katarina didn’t bother to mince words.

Talon looked over at her before carefully standing up with you in his arms. “No. She healed herself in time, but she passed out from blood loss.”

“So you’re bringing her back with us?” Katarina pressed, turning back to leave the room, already assured of his answer before he could say it.

Talon didn’t reply, but followed her into the hall. Katarina began to open doors in the hall, leaving Talon to stare at her, unimpressed that she was wasting time with whatever she was doing.

Katarina caught his stare and raised an eyebrow in return as she walked into one of the rooms. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re both drenched in blood. Unless you want her to wear bloody clothing forever?”

Talon watched Katarina walk over to the bed to look through a bag that was laying there. She rifled through the bag for a few seconds before closing it again and slinging it over her shoulder.

“Looks like your girl was already packed. Guess she was planning to skip town if you didn’t come see her,” Katarina surmised.

“Are you finished?” Talon replied coldly, walking past the room and towards the front door, Katarina easily catching up to him.

“I’ll take this to your room,” she said, gesturing with her chin to the bag she carried. “You might want to take the long way back unless you want people to think you’re walking around with a dead body.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, heading through the door and back to the estate on her own. She was right; there was no way he could scale buildings while carrying you. He stuck to alleyways and less populated areas to not bring more attention to your situation, but he felt relieved that he could see your chest rise and fall slowly as he walked. You had come so close to death that he thought he wouldn’t be able to save you. Having you here in his arms, alive, had calmed his restless soul. His lust for blood sated with the deaths of your attackers.

He had been putting so much effort into pushing you away that he had left you alone and vulnerable. He could only hope that you hadn’t lost too much blood before you had healed your wounds. You were pale, much more than was healthy, but there wasn’t much he could do other than take you somewhere safe and hope that you would wake up.

The walk back was eventless; the few people to cross Talon’s path quickly backed up and fast walked in whatever direction they had come from. He was used to that behavior already, given his intimidating stature and ever-present glower. But he was forced to admit that he did look like some sort of crazed murderer as he carried you in his arms, both of you soaked in blood and leaving a trail on the ground behind him as he walked.

It was early in the evening when he arrived back at the estate, the setting sun falling behind him. Katarina must have warned the guards that he was coming, because they had made themselves scarce. Talon adjusted your body against his shoulder as he pushed the gate open with his other arm.

He took the usual way to his room, heading to a side entrance. Not many people were allowed to be on Du Couteau property, let alone live within the walls of the towering estate, so there was not likely to be anyone in his path. Talon’s room was even more secluded, in a wing where no one else resided, so he always had plenty of space to himself. General Du Couteau put a lot of faith in him, and rewarded his loyalty and skilled service. But even if the rooms in Talon’s wing of the estate were available, his reputation kept people away for fear of angering him.

Talon scoffed at the notion; he would not simply strike someone down for being on estate grounds, not without an order from the general. But he preferred the solitude his area of the estate offered, so the paranoia was convenient for him, especially now as he carried you into his room.

Katarina was looking out of the window, but turned to look at him as he entered. “Took you long enough. You can put her down and then wait outside.”

Talon glared at her, not understanding what she meant, and she laughed. “She needs her clothes changed, so unless you were planning on stripping her yourself…?”

Katarina didn’t need to finish her sentence to know that Talon had at last gotten her drift. Whereas normally he would have argued with her, he walked over to gently lay you on the bed, turning and walking a few paces away and crossing his arms, but not leaving the room.

“Suit yourself,” Katarina scoffed at the overprotective assassin as she began to remove your bloody clothing.

Talon kept his back to the scene, knowing that Katarina was getting a little too much enjoyment out of this. He listened to the sound of his bed creaking, as well as the sounds as different articles of your clothing hitting the floor as Katarina discarded them. It took her a few minutes, but eventually she instructed Talon that he could turn back around.

When he turned back, you were laying on top of the bed in a soft gray dress. Katarina was wiping blood from your forehead with a cloth, your body noticeably less bloody as well. There was still traces of blood in your hair, but it was no longer caked on your skin like dirt. Seeing you looking much cleaner made Talon realize just what a state he was in as well. The scent of blood clung to him, but he was so used to the smell that he was able to easily tune it out.

“She’ll have to bathe to get the rest of the blood off, but I did what I could for now,” Katarina said, leaving the bloody cloth on a table by the bed and making her way to the door. Always eager for the last word, she looked back at Talon when she was halfway out of the door. “Nobody comes by here, so you two can be as loud as you want.”

Katarina left, knowing she wouldn’t get a response from him, heading into the hallway and towards her own area of the estate. Talon began to remove his own blood-stained clothing as his thoughts drifted. Katarina seemed more than willing to keep you a secret, but even if the general knew about you, Talon doubted he would care. As long as he accomplished his missions, the general did not pry into his sparse personal life, and if keeping you here with him was Talon’s price for his service, the general would have no choice but to agree.

Talon did not even entertain the thought of allowing you to go back to your home when you woke up. Without your parents to protect you with their influence, you were incredibly vulnerable to the dregs of Noxian society. Deep within him, Talon wasn’t quite ready to admit that the larger reason for his decision was backed by his desire to keep you by his side.

Talon had never had the desire to be close to someone in a way other than professional respect. General Du Couteau had been the only person to ever defeat him in combat, and so he had agreed to serve under him to learn and improve his own skills. He had moved up from being a skilled thief to become one of the three strongest members of the house of Du Couteau. His time in the service of the general had taken him all over Runeterra to assassinate enemies of the general, and he had never found his life to be lacking, not until he met you again after all your years apart.

Having you here made him want things he had never wanted before. He selfishly, possessively wanted you. His cold demeanor had temporarily held him back from being consumed by his desires, but now that you were here with him, now that there was nothing holding him back from being with you, his emotions threatened to consume him. And while he could assume what you felt, he hadn’t heard it from your own lips… yet.

All he could do was wait and hope that you would recover. He approached the bed, pulling the collar of your dress down to look at your wound. There was only the slightest cut in your skin, not even enough to bleed. Looking at the wound on your leg, he found that it was the same. Katarina had wiped away most of the blood from your injuries, and it was a relief to Talon to see you no longer drowning in your own blood.

He had done all that he could for you at the moment, and so he covered your body with a blanket before leaving his room to do some training. There was no guarantee when you would wake up, but he was reassured that you were somewhere he could keep an eye on you from. Those thugs had been an unfortunate happening, but he would do much worse to anyone that dared to attack you from now on. Very few had ever survived an encounter with the blade’s shadow, and he had no mercy for those who got in his way.

You saw your mother and father. Somewhere in your mind, you knew that shouldn’t be possible; they were dead. You began to wonder if this meant that you were dead as well. The last thing that you remembered was Talon finding you in the safe room… and kissing you.

Your parents didn’t say anything, just stared at you, their faces slowly changing from healthy to gray and dead. You backed away from them as their eye sockets bled black and they stared at you with blame in their eyes. You wanted to run, but found that you couldn’t move. Their deathly figures got closer and closer, and you flinched, closing your eyes as they were almost upon you, but instead finding yourself embraced from behind, a familiar scent engulfing you.

You heard your name being called by his voice, soft in your ear. Talon…

You still couldn’t move, but you wanted so badly to turn around and see him. To kiss him again. To be by his side.

He had shown more care for you in the short amount of time with you than your parents had in your entire life. You felt overwhelmed with desire to see his face, to be able to hold him back. But this wasn’t real, and the ghostly touch against you wasn’t him. You had to wake yourself up. You had to see Talon again.

You realized that your eyes were closed, and your head felt clear. You opened your eyes at last to see soft light filtering in through a window and no shadowy figures around you. You didn’t recognize the room you found yourself in, but considering you weren’t shackled to the bed, you had to be somewhere safe.

You sat up in the bed, which caused a damp cloth on your forehead to fall into your lap. You picked it up, staring at the simple navy blue fabric that reminded you so much of Talon. Was it too much to hope that it was him who had brought you here?

Running a hand through your messy hair, you were disgusted to find flecks of dried blood on your fingers. As you wiped the specks of blood off on the cloth, your full situation came back to you. You were surprised that you were even alive with how severe your wounds had been. You had been prepared to die in that room, a casualty to the ambitions of your parents.

The door to the room opened as you had pulled back the blanket to look at your injures. You looked over to see Talon pushing the door open, wearing more casual clothing than you had seen him in before. He wore a simple pair of black pants and a dark blue shirt which stretched over the muscles of his arms in a way that made you nervously avert your eyes.

Talon paid your sudden shyness no mind, walking over to your bedside as soon as he noticed you were awake. You weren’t sure where to look, so you settled for staring at your hands as they rested in your lap. You noticed a spot of dried blood on one palm that you had missed and began to scrape it off with a fingernail. You were probably too focused on the task, and only stopped when Talon put a hand over yours to move your hands apart.

You looked up at him at last, and he only removed his hand from yours when you met his eyes. You had been so desperate to see him, but having him be by your bedside like this was making it hard for you to function, especially with how casually he was dressed. He was so effortlessly handsome, and here you were all dirty, your hair matted with blood and skin clammy from sleeping off your injuries. The thought sent your gaze downwards again as you began to feel self-conscious.

“How long was I asleep for?” You cringed at how dry and raspy your voice sounded.

“A week,” Talon answered, reaching down to tilt your chin up to face him when you didn’t reply to him. “Are you still in pain?”

“No,” you replied at last, the closeness of his face driving your heart rate up, especially considering you now knew how long you had been asleep for. You must look pretty bad right now, and that wasn’t even touching on how you must smell at the moment.

“Can… can I have a bath?” you asked, your voice coming out as more of a squeak.

Chancing a look at Talon’s face, he didn’t seem to be annoyed with you. In fact, he looked more relaxed than you had ever seen him. At your words, his hand drifted from your chin to brush gently over your tangled hair, and you desperately fought against the urge to shy away from his hand. The moment only lasted a few seconds, and you found yourself missing his touch as soon as he brought his hand back to his side.

Talon nodded, turning back to pick something up as you eased your way out of the bed, your balance a little shaky as you stared at his back. Now that it wasn’t covered by his hood, you had a proper opportunity to admire his hair; it looked much too nice to belong to someone as deadly as he was, and your fingers itched to run through it like he had done to yours. But you didn’t know where you stood with him right now, and feared he might pull away from you if you tried.

Your focus was then put on a small basket that was handed to you. Looking at it, you found what looked like various soaps and bathing oils, which was not something you imagined that Talon would have had lying around.

You looked at him in surprise, and he caught your train of thought immediately, giving you a stony look. “Katarina prepared those for you.”

You couldn’t help a giggle. “Sorry. I couldn’t help but imagine you bathing in roses when I saw this stuff.”

His lips twitched up in a smirk. “I see your wounds didn’t affect your brain. What a shame.”

Your mouth dropped open. Was he teasing you? Talon, one of the most deadly men in Noxus, had just implied that you were dumb.

His eyes glimmered with playfulness for a moment before he turned away, not giving you a chance to reply. Not that you could even think of a reply; his sudden teasing had taken the wind right out of your sails. You hadn’t expected that from him, and he had taken full advantage of that fact.

He turned his head to look back at you, and you took that as your cue to follow after him. He led you out of the room and to a room a few doors down, which turned out to be a bathroom. Talon closed the door behind you, and you waited a few seconds before undressing, realizing that there was no point in listening for his receding footsteps as he had clearly trained himself to move silently.

You turned the tap on, the warm water feeling heavenly on your skin as you sat down in the bath. It was very clear to you how much you needed this bath; as soon as you began to wash yourself, the water grew dirty from the grime and blood that covered your skin and hair. By the time you were done, the water was tinted a light red, which you quickly set to drain. You really didn’t need any more reminders of how gross you had felt prior to the bath.

Putting your clothing back on, you almost felt like a new person. It was an especially big relief that you could finally stop worrying about smelling bad on top of everything else you had to worry about right now.

It was a relief to you when Talon finally went to do some training later on that day. It had taken you some time, but over the day, you had come to a realization; he was definitely flirting with you. You had been hesitant to believe it at first, but over the course of the day, you could no longer have any doubts.

It had started with him being closer than usual, which was already new for you given how hard he had tried to flee from you over the past while. But now he seemed to take every opportunity available to him to sit near you while sharpening his blades, or brush a hand over your skin while checking your injuries. At first it could have been a coincidence, but you caught the ghost of a smirk on his face too many times for it to be innocent, which led you to accept that he was being like this on purpose. But he hadn’t mentioned the kiss, or tried to kiss you again, no matter how amicable you would be to a repeat of that moment.

You felt like a timid alley cat being offered a piece of fish; you wanted the reward so badly, but were scared to open yourself up and be vulnerable enough to take what you wanted from him. His behavior seemed to give you the impression that he would be open to the idea, but it was hard to work up the nerve, and you were just about reaching your breaking point.

You basically had to insist that he go train for a bit, if only to give your cheeks a break, as there was only so much blushing you could take before you felt your cheeks would burn off. You knew that you couldn’t fool him; he knew exactly why you were so determined that he go do some training, but had gone along with your request. If only you could figure out what to do about the sudden tension before he returned.

You couldn’t think of anything. If you confessed to him outright and he just stared at you, you didn’t think you could take it. But at the same time, you had to get some closure. You couldn’t take any more of Talon’s flirty gestures without knowing what you meant to him, what the kiss had meant to him. In the hour he was gone, the only course of action you could settle on was just asking him why he had kissed you. Then at least you could get an insight into his feelings without putting yourself too far out there.

You rehearsed what you would say again and again in your head, and even a few times out loud. Just as you were beginning to feel like you could do this, the door opened and Talon came in, discarding a few blades of varying sizes on the table, and you almost physically felt your nerve break. You felt his eyes on you immediately, and your rehearsed words fled quickly from your mind. How did you ever think that you could do this?

You couldn’t even move an inch from your seat on the bed, almost too scared to breathe. You couldn’t even look at him, and neglected to recall just how good he was at moving silently until he was right before you, his hand on your shoulder drawing you back into reality.

“Have you finished healing your wounds?” he asked, removing his hand when he knew he had your attention.

You looked down at your chest, pulling your dress back to look at the wound. You had entirely forgotten about it, but allowed the familiar blue glow of your powers to light in your hand as you began to heal the last of your wounds. You had healed them most of the way before, but with one more dose of your magic, they were gone as if you had never been injured at all. As you felt your leg fully heal as well, you looked over to Talon, your focus drawn to a thin cut on his cheek that you had only noticed now that he was so close to you.

Without really thinking about it, you reached a hand up to his face, trailing your fingers in a line down his cheek along the scratch. He kept his eyes on you, putting up no resistance to your touch. As you moved your hand back and his cut fully healed, the intimacy of the gesture finally hit you and you retracted your hand as if you had been burned. Talon remained where he was, and the closeness sent a nervous shiver down your spine.

You tried to even your breathing, hoping that would help you bolster your nerves. You had to know. You would just repeat that to yourself until you could make your mouth move.

“Talon…” You used every bit of your willpower to get the words out. “Why did you kiss me?”

You heard an exhale of breath that sounded suspiciously like laughter from the assassin. “I didn’t recall you being this dumb when we were children.”

“What?” you replied incredulously with a frown. “I was being serious, Talon!”

“So was I,” he replied coyly. “I didn’t think that loud girl I knew would grow up to be so naïve.”

What was he even saying? He was clearly trying to say something, but you were having trouble reading past the insults.

“So you’re not going to answer my question?” you asked with thinly veiled frustration.

He leaned down, his arms on either side of you caging you in. You had nowhere to run unless you were forced to put up with his smug smirk as he leaned down towards you, getting close enough to kiss you but holding himself back just enough for your lips not to touch. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flit to his lips, wary of the look in his eyes when he caught you staring.

“If you were paying attention, you would have your answer already,” he said, voice low and more seductive than you had ever heard him sound.

It was taking all you had to keep your eyes on his, especially with how close his lips got to yours with every word he said. You would only have to move an inch and then you would be kissing him again. And with him this close, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he wanted this too. In all the time you had known him, you hadn’t known him to do or say things he didn’t mean. He had been teasing you mercilessly all day, and you just wanted to believe that this meant something to him.

“Can you… kiss me again?” you whispered, closing your eyes as you were too nervous to look at his face.

There was a few seconds of silence, and you opened your eyes to see what was happening just in time to see Talon’s face close in on you, his lips connecting with yours as he used his weight to press you down on the bed. You had been too surprised to resist, but you readily welcomed the contact, your fingers gripping at his shoulders as you closed your eyes.

His movements overwhelmed you; before you could even process it, his hand slid over your breasts, fingers closing around one as you tried to keep up with his tongue. You squirmed under him, moving a hand up to finally get a feel of his hair now that you were fairly certain that he wouldn’t mind. You were just wearing a simple dress and a pair of underwear, but the closeness was heating up your body in a way that only removing the suddenly-too-warm clothing from your skin would alleviate.

It was futile to try and predict his movements; you jerked back from the kiss with a moan of his name as he pressed his fingers against your clit, fingers that you hadn’t even realized that he had snuck under your dress. As his hand slipped in your underwear, he took advantage of your exposed throat, leaving heated kisses on your neck. You found yourself fleetingly curious about where he had picked this up, but the thought disappeared as he pulled back to nibble at your ear with his teeth.

He removed his hands from you, leaning his lower body against yours and supporting his weight with his hands. His lips were still at your ear as you felt the hard press of his cock against your lower half.

“You still don’t know why?” he probed, grinding slowly against you, the friction not even close to enough for you right now. “I tried to keep you away from the way I live, the people I kill. But you were more persistent than I thought.”

“Talon…” you whispered, wishing he would just press a little harder, but he stayed frustratingly light and slow with each roll of his hips into yours.

“You chased after me, so now you can’t complain about what I do to you,” he growled in your ear, his words making you shudder with anticipation.

His fingers crept back under your dress, and you spread your legs as much as you could with him still on top of you to give him room. You blushed as you realized just how wet you were as Talon’s attention moved from your clit to press a finger inside you with ease.

You cried out at the intrusion, pulling his face down to yours so you could feel his tongue against yours again. He seemed more than happy to kiss you breathless as he added another finger, reaching so deep within you that it was making you curl your toes until they began to hurt. You felt like you could barely keep up with the kiss anymore, but Talon’s focus did not waver.

The cotton of his shirt began to brush uncomfortably against you, and you tugged at it, unable to verbalize your request due to how thoroughly he was kissing you. The tugging got his attention and he pulled back at last, looking all too pleased with himself, ripping his shirt off with one hand while the other continued to pump in and out of your pussy. With him now on his knees on the bed, you finally got a look at what was pressing against you earlier.

Talon’s cock was straining noticeably against his trousers, and the sight made your tongue dart out to nervously run along your lower lip. Talon caught you staring easily, and his fingers began to curl inside you, the sensation making you flutter your eyes closed with a moan. Only when you felt a noticeable draft did you realize that he had taken advantage of your distracted state to slide your underwear off completely and discard them on the floor.

You were warm, way too warm, and Talon allowed you to push his fingers away from you so you could sit up as best you could and shimmy your dress up your body. You felt somewhat shy, but you were so overheated at the moment that you couldn’t keep your dress on any longer if you didn’t want to spontaneously combust. It also didn’t hurt to watch Talon’s eyes hungrily follow your movements, and when you noticed him about to dive back against you, you held up a hand, deciding to be cheeky.

“Not until you take off your pants,” you said, staring at him with a challenge in your eyes.

Talon’s eyes looked dark as he reached towards the clasp of his pants, knowing he had your attention fully captured. He didn’t leave you waiting, discarding his pants quickly and leaving him as bare as you were.

He leaned back down, your faces almost touching. “When we do this, you’ll be mine. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, and he took your legs in his hands, bringing them around his waist.

He needed no further convincing, and you felt the prod of his cock, which felt so much better without any layers of clothing in the way. You had no coherent words as he began to sink into you easily given you were so wet that he didn’t even need to go particularly slow. You arched your back with a gasp, your ears rewarded when Talon let out a quiet groan as he finally bottomed out.

Before you regained your composure, Talon was sliding out and rocking his hips back towards you, shattering what mental facilities you had left. You could do little more than grip at his arms and the bed sheets as you looked up at his dark eyes that were focussed on your own. You couldn’t stop yourself from moaning at the feeling, especially when he brushed his thumb just right against your clit, the resulting surge of building pleasure almost overwhelming you.

As you got more and more vocal, you began to notice how responsive he was to every little noise you made. Every moan or cry seemed to make him thrust into you a little harder than usual, and you decided that you wanted to hear him too. He had been largely silent so far, and you wanted to know that he was as affected by this as you were.

You began to roll your hips to meet his, squeezing your inner muscles every time he rocked back into you. Immediately, you noticed a stutter in his breath, and after a few repeats on your part, his eyes narrowed on your face, and he began to slow his pace as he leaned down towards you, his teeth grazing your ear.

“You think you’re getting away with that?” he growled, sending pleasant chills along your skin with his words. “You really are naïve.”

He pulled back from your ear to kiss you deeply at the same time he began to move at a much harsher pace, every movement sending jolts through you and a flush to your face as he began to hit on just the right spot. He was so close to you that his chest pressed against your breasts, the added friction driving you crazy. His hair was finally close enough for you to tug on, the resulting groan he let out only spurning you on to be rougher in return. You were both desperately close, but Talon’s brutal pace did not slow one bit. You made a brief mental note to tease him about his stamina later.

Talon came first, pulling his mouth from yours to bite at your neck as he stilled for only a moment before continuing at a gentler rhythm, his fingers playing with your clit as he bit and sucked at your neck. You tightened your grip on him, your nails biting into his back as he carried you through the waves of pleasure until you fell back on the bed, feeling boneless. Talon was quick to follow, pulling out of you and wrapping an arm around you to keep you close to him.

You brought your hand back to brush some hair away from your face, brows furrowing in confusion when you noticed blood under your nails. It only took you a second to make the connection, and you sat up, quickly looking over Talon’s shoulder at his back.

“Your back– I’m sorry!” you hastily apologized, seeing the thin streaks of blood that dotted his back from your scratches.

You frantically ignited your hand with blue and healed the shallow cuts on his back. You had been so panicked that you only realized afterwards that your position leaning over his back had put your breasts right in his face. You made eye contact with his blank stare, and almost fell off the bed as you pulled away in a hurry, only saved by his strong grip on your arm.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his face impassive but eyes betraying his mirth.

“I didn’t mean to–” you started, but cut yourself off with a cry as Talon used his grip on your arm to pull you forward to press his lips against yours.

You allowed him to lay you back down next to him as you kissed. You were fully distracted when he pulled back with a smirk.

“Did you really think I’m repulsed by your breasts?” he asked, and you could only answer him with embarrassed stammering.

“Do you need me to prove that I’m not?” he murmured, palming your breasts with his hands, his thumbs brushing over your nipples and making you shudder.

You couldn’t bring yourself to resist the insatiable assassin, kissing him as he flipped you on your back as his touches became rougher. You certainly wouldn’t be escaping him any time soon, and found yourself immensely grateful that there was nobody around to hear the two of you, because it was a while before Talon would let you rest.

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