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masterwords · 2 years

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Summary: (Pre-show) Hotch and Reid follow a lead at a storage unit and Hotch gets trapped inside.

Warnings: vomit, heat exhaustion, hospital, lots of creepy crawlies (spiders, rats, cockroaches...) canon typical nasty

Pairings: None

Words: 4.3k

Author's Note: Yeah, hey there. It's been a while. My kids are in baseball and that's a 7 day a week thing with a lot of travel involved, so I haven't had much of a chance to sit down and pull words out of my brain. Many many apologies! This is the best I have for now.

Rats. Of all the things Hotch anticipated when the four of them decided to split into pairs and explore a few leads, rats weren't even on his radar. Neither were spiders or mold or beetles.

And definitely not bats, although he didn't end up contending with them in the end...still, the thought of them had entered his mind and taken hold for a very long time. It was either that or focus on the very real problem of his body shutting down.

“I'll take Morgan to look at the dump site again, see if we can find anything we missed,” Gideon said, leaving Hotch to grab hold of Reid and drag him out to a storage facility no one wanted to explore. Reid who had never been in the field...who was nervous and barely knew how to load his firearm let alone use it. Reid who desperately needed experience in order to gain confidence. “Maybe we'll get lucky.”

“Are you ready?” Hotch asked, nudging Reid toward their car. It was a simple mission of exploration, a storage facility that housed a significant amount of items belonging to their unsub. With the warrant in hand, they drove into the crystal clear morning, their SUV cutting the humidity like a knife. Hotch was certain that this was the easy job, no outdoors to contend with, no humidity to suck along with giant Florida insects the likes of which he had never seen at home. The dumpsite was in the woods and he hated the woods, would have done just about anything not to wander blind into them on any day, let alone an over-heated Florda day in mid-August. Let Morgan and his muscles accompany Gideon and his brain, he and Reid could handle a gated storage unit with security guards on duty.

Except the key they were given didn't work, the lock had been changed and there were no locksmiths who would touch this one...everyone knew, it was all over the news. Rumors that there were bodies inside had no foundation, it wasn't what they were searching for, and yet they were met continuously with courteous but forceful “No, I'm sorry I can't help you,” and "Just break the door in". Hotch considered threats but they'd be empty, they could get in other ways. He smiled at the thought of Morgan trying to shoulder his way in, crashing against the door like an angry rhino, kicking at the lock. He might make it, too, but he was in the woods up to his knees in swampy underbrush and batting away mosquitoes the size of quarters. The Security Guard provided a rusty old car jack they had in the office, and between the two of them they managed to shimmy the door up just enough for Hotch to slide under. It wouldn't go further no matter how they tried, and they'd already worked themselves into a sweat. Hotch could feel the unsettling dampness beneath his arms as he shrugged out of his jacket and into his kevlar vest.

“The damn thing ain't been opened in so long it's rusted shut,” the guard muttered around a cigarette. The cherry bounced around creating tracers of light against his chin. “Probably been sitting 'round for years like this, humidity'll do this if you don't move 'er around, dry 'er off a bit. Must be nothin' too important to him in there, huh?”

“That's what we're here to find out,” Hotch mumbled it under his breath, hoping he was wrong about this hunch. Maybe it was just junk, a bunch of stuff they couldn't part with but didn't care much about...not a body, please not a body. Not in there with 100% humidity, a good twenty degrees hotter than outside. He could feel the stagnant, wet heat oozing out from beneath the barely opened door and suppressed a shudder, thought about pulling rank and telling Reid to go in. He was reconsidering the woods now. Mosquitoes didn't sound so bad.

“Well Doctor Reid?” Hotch asked with a smirk, and Reid almost seemed to freeze as he tried to figure out whether Hotch was joking or serious. Hotch pushed just a little. “Hop to it.”

Reid stammered something about mice and dark and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear nervously, drawing a painfully short chuckle from Hotch. He was easing himself into the idea of slithering under that door into pitch black, trying to calm the nervous thunder in his chest. “I'm kidding. I'll go in, just keep watch.”

It wasn't like he would send Reid in alone, but he also wasn't entirely sure he should leave the kid alone in the yard. He'd never been in the field before. There were two large dogs of indeterminate breeds patrolling the grounds, and they'd been instructed in handling the dogs briefly. Enough to know they should be concerned about them and for heaven's sake do not forget the commands and how to use them. Reid didn't trust how well the dogs were trained, safe words or no. The storage facility was on twenty acres of city land, he might never see the dogs anyway, but if he did...god he hoped those words worked. He really didn't want to be ripped to shreds by guard dogs for what could be a wild goose chase. The thought of the dogs and their teeth sinking into him, tearing him to bits, and for what again? What had he thought they might find in there? He regarded the narrow opening beneath the rusted shut door and felt panic rise in him.

And then there was the other thing. The unsub himself. “Doctor Reid,” Hotch said, adjusting his vest so it sat a little too tight against him, he wasn't keen on getting any part of it caught as he maneuvered under the door and he certainly didn't want to snag on anything once inside. He was no stranger to these storage units, this wasn't his first rodeo and knowing what was inside...he wasn't going to take any chances. “Roberts could show up at any point. He doesn't know we're here right now, but if he watches the news he knows we'll come looking.” Roberts was their unsub, though he was no longer “un” as Reid had pointed out. They knew who he was and they all knew he was guilty they just had to find enough evidence to nail him, and find the rest of the missing girls. The storage unit would hopefully hold the key. But it could also be a trap and they both knew it. Unnecessary amounts of pressure piled on in the mounting late morning heat, and Reid found himself reconsidering his decision to join this team.

“Your gun, Doctor Reid.”

There was a brief moment where Hotch could only focus on the wide, white eyes of his partner. He saw fear there and he frowned. “You do have your gun, right?”

“I do...” Reid replied quietly. “I won't need it will I?” He was suddenly overcome by the intensity of how wrong he was for this job. It should be Morgan. This was a Hotch and Morgan job, it just was. They do this stuff. They take down the unsubs, they keep ice packs and heating pads and bottles of Advil on hand. They compare scars and bruises like trophies of a job well done. Hotch was still nursing a sore shoulder and he could faintly detect the slightest hint of a limp hanging on in Morgan's stride. He didn't know the stories but he could put it together fairly easily and he'd only been part of the BAU officially for a few weeks. No, this job was way over his head...he should be with Gideon, or at the precinct working through the stacks of files and maps, anywhere but here in the middle of a vast maze of storage units that could be concealing any number of horrors and needing to use his gun.

“Just watch your back. I'll try to be quick.”

And this, if you're keeping track, is where the rats come in.

Hotch slipped under the door on his belly, feeling the heat of the pavement beneath him through his kevlar. It burned hot against his hands, molten gravel digging into the meat of his palms. His hands moved through broken glass and tiny rocks, specks of things he'd rather not think too hard about. Reaching forward carefully, he pulled himself along, brushing cockroach carcasses out of the way of his face. He didn't get them all in time. The unit smelled overwhelmingly of urine soaked fabrics and mold, sour close to the ground. When he managed to push himself up to his knees and catch his breath against the panic rising in the molten thick of the dark, the smell shifted and became musty and sweet with decay. Palms against thighs he rested and tried to breathe, the air was soupy and settled against his skin in a thick layer. He was already sweating.

“Doctor Reid?” he called, trying to get his bearings while he rocked back on his haunches. His eyes caught the faint glimmer of light beneath the door but it didn't go far, just pooled there.

Even the light didn't want to come in with him.

“Did you happen to bring any water?” He realized, almost mournfully, that all he'd had to drink that morning was coffee and he hadn't thought about bringing any water let alone something to eat. He was about as full of regret as he could be now as he soaked his way through his silk shirt.

“I don't think so,” Reid replied with a rock in his belly. Idiots, both of them, and his mind rattled off all the ways they could come to regret not having at least a bottle of water on hand. Still, they were in the mix of civilization, there was a gas station across the street, they weren't going to die. “Do you want me to go get some?” He was almost hopeful that Hotch would say yes, run across the street, away from here, but he didn't.

“No, we'll grab some on our way back.” He didn't want to be left alone, that was really the long and short of it. Reid wasn't much help, but he was enough to keep Hotch from worrying about the fact that he was peeling sticky fly paper off of his chest and listening to the way the beetles and other many legged creatures pulled away from him, their shells cracking and crumbling. It kept him from focusing too hard on the scurrying sounds of little feet, and the feel of silky soft spiderwebs against his ears.

He rose to his feet and swayed a little, already feeling the effects of the stagnant heat. Slowly, meticulously, he dusted off his knees as if it mattered. It was more customary than anything...he was wearing expensive trousers; you dust them off when you drag them through filth. Fumbling for a moment in his pockets, he searched out his flashlight. It was small, too small to cover a big area like this locker but it would have to do. Towers of boxes surrounded him, caged him in, and between each tower he could feel the sticky spiderwebs. One was near his cheek and he barely resisted the urge to reach up and swat it away. Futile, there were so many more, and he was a giant crashing through them. It would be silly to disturb them on purpose, right now they didn't seem to mind his being there.

With his flashlight on, he peered around at what he was up against and shivered. It was hotter inside than out, and it was a viscous swampy heat, the kind you almost felt you had to cut through. It stuck heavy in his lungs, seeped through his pores. At his feet he could hear the rats scurrying, great droves of them moving almost in unison...one step but many steps together. A large one moved over his foot and he froze in place, felt his muscles tense and burn. In this particular line of work, this wasn't exactly out of the ordinary. Definitely no his first time dealing with rats but it was his first time doing it in such close quarters and without being able to see more than a foot in any direction. This was not a story he brought home to Haley.

His hand twitched at his side and he thought about what he needed to do, what he had to find. Why he was in this hell hole. Focusing in with a needle-like precision, he dragged his flashlight over the surface of the box towers and tarp covered furniture, trying to decide where to begin. Nothing was labeled, and the moment he began to lament that very minor fact he heard a deep groaning sound. His first thought was Reid.

“Agent Hotchner,” The voice he heard was not exactly Reid's, but he knew it was him nonetheless. It was pale, faltered a little like he was scared. Hotch felt a chill course through his veins. The groaning sound became almost grinding, bending, and louder. Whatever was happening was doing so quickly. “You should get out of there. The door is too heavy for this old jack...”

He glanced at the sliver of light coming from beneath the door and watched as it inched its way to solid black, the groaning sound coinciding with every movement. There was a split second that he considered diving for the floor, trying to get under but he knew he'd very likely not make it. He would get caught beneath the weight of the door and that would undoubtedly hurt worse than staying inside in the pitch black. No, if the door was going to close, better that he be standing upright out of harm's way. Relatively, anyway.

“Doctor Reid, if that door...”

BAM. It was almost comedic, the timing of the jack giving beneath the weight of the heavy rusted door, drowning out his voice entirely. The crashing unsettled a number of nests, tiny squeals and chattering, scurrying sounds bombarded his heightened senses and filled him with a dread unlike anything he'd ever known. Almost instantly and with fresh panic, Reid began pounding his fists against the door as if it might give. Hotch coughed at the plumes of dust and mouse droppings that caught hold in the hot wet air.

“Reid...” he hacked, throwing his arm up over his face. “Stop. Please. Stop hitting the door...”

The noise stopped, but the dust seemed to remain suspended around him. “Are you alright in there?”

“I'm fine Reid. I'm already in here, I might as well start looking...go get help. The security station isn't far...get some water and find someone who can get me out of here quickly.”

Hotch stood for a moment, gathering himself for the second time. He'd almost been there the first time, almost had it...now he had to get it back. The boxes, the contents of the boxes. He didn't need to worry about the furniture, the tattered couch that was more than likely a kingdom for the rodents who inhabited this space. Reid fumbled with the keys, glancing from the closed door to the car and couldn't stop thinking about the rats and diseases they carried, spider bites or Hotch being buried under an avalanche of shit inside. He hadn't been on this team long but he knew very well that Hotch would say he was fine even if he'd been hurt and his mind was turning over all of the possibilities when he heard the other man's voice again.

“Reid?”

“I'm here.”

“I told you to go get help. I'd like to get out of here with some urgency, okay?” He paused and cleared his throat, steadied himself against a large box. He was starting to feel faint already, the heat was getting to him quickly. “It's hot in here.” He said it more to himself than anything, but something about the tone of his voice, the sudden weariness shocked Reid into action. Driving like his own life depended on it, he worried about Hotch dying of heat stroke, and if he did survive, he was surely going to be fired for allowing this to happen. There were a million scenarios in which Reid could see himself having avoided the whole thing, he knew very well that jack wouldn't hold the weight of the door for as long as they were expecting, he should have said something. But the rats...he couldn't think past the rats.

Absurdly, Hotch found his hair to be the most frustrating thing he was up against. It was too long, Haley had been hounding him to cut it for weeks now but there was something in the freedom of not giving in, of letting it go...until now. Hanging limp and wet in his eyes, tickling behind his ears, he couldn't tell what was his hair and what was a spider...or worse. It was maddening to the point of distraction, pushing it away from his face in order to dig through cockroach nest filled boxes of costume clothing. There were moments he wished he was in pitch black, seeing was worse than blindness when he shifted clothes out of the way and felt the scamper of roaches over his hand, diving further into the box, away from the light he now held between his teeth so he could dig with both hands. Quickly, he bent down and tucked his pants into his socks, trying to will his hands to stop shaking. The light bouncing through the webs was making him feel queasy.

He squinted and tried to hold himself upright against a large box; his knees wobbled like jelly beneath his weight. Sight black and then bright bursts of white and sprays of fireworks, he swayed and swiped at the sweat on his brow though it no longer seemed to help...his shirt was just as wet as his face. His vision blurred on blue and gray wool and he found himself dropping hard to his knees, spilling the contents of a box around him. Unsure how long he'd been in the storage unit, he called out to Reid with no answer.

It was like being on another planet. Deprived of everything he took for granted, fresh air and sky and applying sight and sound to one another, he was disoriented and sick. He leaned heavily against the boxes and closed his eyes, focusing momentarily on breathing. The heat was oppressive, settled wet like mud in his lungs. His mind wandered away from the locker briefly and he remembered Sean telling him about a mission trip he took to somewhere in Chile, he and the group of young men he was with descending into ancient wet caverns and hollering at the stalactites and stalagmites, listening to the reverberations of their voices. They weren't supposed to make so much noise, it was dangerous, but leave it to Sean and his friends to test the strength of nature. Were his towers of boxes stalactites or stalagmites? He tried to remember the little rhymes and word games from school to remember which was which, but his mind felt slippery and wet, the moment a thought lit up it was washed away. His flashlight flickered and he thought about bats...why the fuck was he thinking about bats? Flashlight up, to the ceiling, and predictably he saw nothing but metal beams and fluorescent lights that had long since burned out. Even if he could turn them on, he was certain that would make it all worse. Better to be in the dark.

He'd lost track of time, but managed to pull his way through four stacks of boxes before Reid returned with the security guard who assured them help was on its way. He had more jacks, but didn't trust them to do much good. It was going to take some heavy machinery.

“Hotch?” Reid asked, worried sick. Hotch groaned and pressed his grime coated hand miserably to his face.

“Yeah. I'm here.”

“Are you alright?”

“Don't worry about me,” he muttered, pushing back up onto his knees with the little strength his muscles still possessed. His mouth was desert dry, his head throbbing mercilessly and he wasn't even sure he was sweating anymore so much as just wet from the air. He felt like he was swimming. “Reid. It's just...a lot of clothes. Boxes and boxes...of prop muskets and hats and costumes..." he paused a moment to try and catch his breath, talking was hard. He could scarcely breathe. "If I had to guess I'd say our guy's really into Civil War reenactment...red and blue and gray, you know? Not cheap either, this is wool...”

In Reid's contemplative silence, Hotch felt his stomach twist and flop. There was a flicker of a tail against his hand and he gasped, sucked in a mouthful of the stagnant swampy air and felt his stomach roll. Reid listened from outside the door as Hotch was sick, a violent sound that seemed to echo through the metal, and he blinked hard against the feeling of regret, of deep fear that Hotch was going to die in there. “Hotch?”

“I'm fine...” Hotch gasped painfully, sliding away from the mess. It wasn't going to help him; the smell was overwhelmingly worse. He was, briefly, thankful that he hadn't eaten breakfast.

Reid was silent, suddenly lost in thought. Hotch rummaged through another box on the ground, unable to stand up any longer. He was too dizzy to see straight, most of it felt like a dream. His breathing had gone shallow and the world tipped on its side, rocked beneath him. “Give me some direction, Reid...what am I looking for? What do you need?”

“Are there any notebooks? What do the tags inside the costumes say? Maybe...” his voice trailed off and Hotch curled around himself while he waited, barely registering that Reid was speaking to him. He hugged his arms to the deep ache in his chest, his lungs filled with sludge. “Anything that says where he...” Another long pause and Hotch groaned, letting his chin drop to his chest miserably.

“Reid...” he was pleading now.

“I've got it. I...can't explain it but I need my maps...”

Hotch pulled his knees to his chest and sighed. “Go. I'm not going anywhere, they'll get me out with or without you. If you have what you need, go back to the precinct. Call Jason and let him know what's going on.”

By the time the door was ripped open and light flooded the storage locker, Hotch was barely awake. He blinked slowly and squinted into the intense afternoon light, watched as one figure solidified in the mist. Arms waving, voice high above the din of engines (BACK UP! THIS IS EVIDENCE! DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING!) and other disembodied voices and he fell back into the boxes in an attempt to get his hands under him, to push himself upright. Hands hooking under his arms helped him upright when his legs failed, giving out the minute he was vertical. He felt himself fall into the other person completely. Sandalwood and citronella (mosquito repellant...swamps...), Morgan.

“Let's go,” Morgan said softly, dragging him a few steps before realizing that Hotch's legs weren't going to hold his weight. Without missing a beat, he hunched low and lifted Hotch into his arms, struggled only briefly under the weight of the other man. He stumbled forward, careful not to disturb the boxes or step on fleeing vermin.

The hospital was air conditioned, and that was the first real clear thought Hotch registered as he came to. There was air flowing against his skin, swirling around the icepacks on his head and neck, against his abdomen and legs. The IV in his arm felt cold, ice flowing into his veins. It was the first time he could remember not feeling immediately agitated in a hospital.

“Hey you,” Morgan said, announcing himself from where he sat nearby picking at the gauze bandages around his ankles. “I got a bone to pick with you.”

“Mmm...” Hotch hummed, turning to face him slowly. His body ached under the ice and all he could think about was a glass of water. Tall, icy water. “You complaining? Never...” His voice was slurred and slow. Morgan laughed, approaching the bed. He held out a cup full of shaved ice and spooned a small amount into his mouth, listened to Hotch crunch it happily. His strained voice was at odds with his nurturing.

“I walked through a damn swamp," he started, offering another spoonful of ice. Hotch's tongue was wet and cold, lips almost delightfully numb. "Got all sorts of nasty cuts and bites, my arms were mosquito food and let's not talk about the fuckin' leeches on my ankles...but no, you gotta one up me after all of that huh?”

“Sorry.” His smile said he wasn't, though, and Morgan knew it. He didn't mind, really.

“Where's Reid?”

“Last I heard, he was saying something about looking for a new job...”

Hotch smiled at that and closed his eyes against the pounding in his head. “French fries,” he muttered, changing the topic. The ice felt nice but he was starving and all he wanted was something greasy and salty. It was Morgan's turn to laugh. “I want a huge pile of french fries.” Morgan knew very well they'd be sharing the fries, Hotch would poke at a few of them and he would end up finishing them. It wasn't such a bad deal in the end.

“Yeah. I know. Just relax while they ice you down and we'll get your damn fries on the way back to the hotel.”

#aaron hotchner #spencer reid #derek morgan #criminal minds #fanfiction

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gimmesumsuga · 5 years

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Beneath the Boughs (M)

Fantastical Tales for Curious Souls - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dryad!Namjoon x Reader

Word Count: 20K

Warnings: Very mild peril and angst, tooth-rotting fluff, smut - fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, virgin!Namjoon.

For almost as long as you can remember, the tree stood opposite your apartment has been a part of your life. Countless memories have been made under the shade of its supple branches, but when its existence comes under threat, you soon discover that your favourite tree is more special to you than you ever could’ve known.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****

“Hey! Stop!”

As fast as your little feet had been able to carry you, you'd run, furious; hurtling across the grass towards the group of young boys congregated around the base of your apple tree, their figures cast in shade under its far-reaching branches.

Of course, you didn’t know it was your tree back then - a tree just like any other, no dissimilar to the many others you'd ever seen - but that hadn’t kept you from watching them from your spot from way over by the swings; narrowed eyes, scowling and suspicious. Huddled together, it was obvious even to you that the curl of their shoulders meant that they must be up to no good.

Their unfamiliar presence in your park had been worrisome enough, but when one of them had drawn out a switchblade from his back pocket, waving it around in front of his friends only to then turn and gouge its sharp blade straight into the bark of the tree, you were left with no choice but to leap into action.

At six tender years old you’d marched over to that group of boys, unafraid. Being several years your senior, they were far less than intimidated by the sight of a young girl in long socks and overalls, copying a pose she’d seen her mother wear before. They hadn’t even really noticed you were there until you’d cleared your throat to demand their attention, small hands fisted on your then non-existent hips, and even then, the ring-leader had refused to acknowledge you. He was far too busy carving out a word your innocent mind did not yet recognise at such an age, tongue poking out of the corner of his lips in concentration.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you’d informed them without a hint of fear, so sure were you of your convictions. The closest boy to you (you’d seen him at school before, you’d thought. The older brother of one of the girls in your class?) had scowled hard at you, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Why not?” he’d snorted.

"Because," you'd replied, matter of fact, "You're hurting it."

"It's just a tree," another boy had said with a shrug of his shoulders, his tone as entirely apathetic as his stance had been.

"But they have feelings," you’d said emphatically, your bottom lip jutting out when the boys around you began to laugh at your expense. Their mocking was finally loud enough to pull the attention of the black-haired boy with the knife and he’d turned, blade in hand.

"Oh yeah? Who told you that?" he'd asked, cocking his head, and you were too young at the time to realise his interest was merely feigned. False.

"My mom." You didn't miss the sniggers that followed, nor the unkind looks the boys exchanged, but still, you spoke on, encouraged by the faux-smile of their leader. "She said all of them ha-"

"Your mom, huh?" he interrupted, and as he stepped forward the blade he'd been holding was suddenly pointed toward you. Looking back, you're sure it'd been an empty threat - the boy stood a good few feet away and made no further attempts to come closer - but it was enough to have tears springing into your eyes on the spot, your small body frozen up with fear.

"Why don't you go running back to mommy, then," he'd jeered, his smile turned into a sneer, "And mind your own damn business." You'd never forget the way the boy’s eyes had strayed around his friends, then, looking for their approval. Their laughs and the impressed faces they'd pulled in response to the mild curse word he'd dropped had had him puffing up his skinny little chest; a young boy looking for attention in all the wrong places.

"B-but," you'd stammered out, chin quivering as you'd tried to hold back tears, tugging on your sleeves. "I-I'll tell on you." Some of the boys had looked concerned, then, shuffling their sneaker-clad feet, but not the one in charge.

Most children would have let it go by that point, you're sure - run away ages ago to seek safety and comfort in the arms of a trusted adult - but not you. You always were a stubborn one. The only child of a single mom, she'd taught you to be independent. Brave. Fierce like her.

"You're not s-supposed to have kn-knife." You'd quickly wiped away a stray tear with your sleeve, clenching your fist again once it fell back to your side. "You'll get in big trouble, you know," you'd warned, looking pointedly to the others who'd been starting to waver, casting nervous glances to one another.

"Maybe she's right, Jimin," the bespectacled boy stood closest to you had said, tentatively. He hadn't looked like he'd belonged there from the start, really; quiet whilst all the others had laughed. "Your brother will go mad if he finds out we took it."

The black-haired boy, Jimin, had paused, then, uncertainty showing on his face for the first time as he'd looked to his friend.

"Fine," he'd eventually relented. Glaring at you, he'd flipped the blade away and rammed it back into his pocket. "Stupid park's boring, anyway."

Unfortunately, the happiness that had swelled inside you at your victory had been short-lived - cut short by Jimin smacking his shoulder into yours as he'd stomped past, hard enough to send you sprawling backwards onto the floor.

And it'd been there, with a bruised bottom and grass-stained hands, that you'd finally allowed yourself to cry once all the boys had gone. It'd seemed so unfair that they'd been so mean when you were only trying to do the right thing. They were the ones in the wrong, after all, not you, and yet you'd been the one left crying on your own.

It was your first taste of injustice - unfortunately, the first of many - and had stayed with you for a very long time after that.

But then, so had what happened next.

Through your tears, you'd seen a blossom as it fell; clusters of delicate white petals listing lazily towards the ground. You'd reached out, sniffling away your sadness, and just as your fingertips had met its silken petals, another sweet blossom had fallen to the ground.

Another, and then another, until all around you appeared as though covered in snow. and you were laughing instead of crying, brushing the petals from your hair. It was then that you realised it was a special tree - your tree - and every year thereafter you made sure to visit whenever it was in full bloom and remember the childish, innocent promise you'd made that day: a promise to always keep that special tree safe, just as you'd done all those many years ago.

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Nearly twenty years have passed since then, but you never forgot that solemn vow. It's what's led you to be sat in the very seat you are now, across the meticulously tidy desk of a man who's far too cute to be cast as such a pencil pusher.

"There's got to be something you can do." The man - Mr Min, his badge reads - pushes his glasses up the slope of his nose with one long, slender finger. "Can't we get it registered as like, listed, or something?" He sighs wearily at your question, and honestly, you can't say you blame him. This has to be the fourth time - scrap that, it's gotta be the fifth - that you've graced his desk in under the space of a month, and even you can't deny what a nuisance you've been.

"That's not really how it works," he explains in the low, slow drawl you've quickly become accustomed to. "If it were on conservation land, perhaps, or if there was a tree preservation order in place."

"Well then let's just get one of those!" you exclaim, nearly leaping out of your seat with so much enthusiasm that the man opposite you leans back out of harm’s way. "That sounds great!"

"It would be," he agrees, and for just a split second your hopes reach heights the likes they've never seen before. "If you'd have applied for it six months ago, maybe. Or if the tree had any kind of historical or cultural significance to the local area that would warrant it being granted."

And just like that, your heart sinks just as your bottom does back into the leather of your chair, hopes dashed.

More than anything, you wish you were able to argue against his point, because whilst the tree you're so desperately trying to save isn't particularly unusual or special in any conventional way, that doesn't mean it's not significant to somebody.

That somebody, of course, being you.

It'd take more than just two hands if you were to try to count out just how many memories you've made beneath the boughs of that tree over the years. Some are happy, some are sad, but the former outweighs the latter; memories of secrets shared whilst sat astride its branches and picnics in the shade. Your first kiss with a boy who chose to dump you in the very same spot not three weeks later.

There are so many, many memories that you cherish, and whilst deep down you know that nothing can erase them, part of you still feels like maybe they might be lost if that tree is no longer there - no longer just in sight from the windows of the flat you'd rented right opposite the park in which so much of your youth was spent.

The same park that is due to be levelled, repurposed and 'urbanised' in accordance with the plans laid out in the papers neatly stacked atop of Mr Min's desk. Soon enough, your pleasant view will be replaced with that of the same red brick walls from which your building is made; the same roof tiling.

It's enough to make you want to cry, and Mr Min must notice the way your eyes have begun to shine by the way own his gaze softens behind his glasses, his posture relaxing into a conspirative slouch as he leans across the desk towards you.

"Look," he begins softly, "I admire how… tenacious… you've been about this." Oh, he's definitely trying to soften the blow if he's choosing 'tenacity' over 'obstinance'. You've been like a dog with a bone over these last few weeks, nipping at his heels every step of the way.

It's a miracle he hasn't kicked you yet, really.

"But the plans were approved months ago. Unless you can work some kind of miracle between now and tomorrow morning, I don't really see any other way of stopping this."

And, sadly enough, you know that he's right. You'd found out about the local authority's intentions too late to ever really have a chance of challenging them, and when the shortage of affordable housing is the way it is… well… what right do you have to disagree all for the sake of some overblown emotional attachment to a tree? As doggedly determined as you may be, even you know you'd never really stood a chance.

"I'm sorry," he apologises, looking at you over the rims of his glasses in sympathy, and as he very gently hands you back the poor attempt at a petition you'd thrust at him some few days before, you get the feeling he really does mean it. "I wish there was more I could do."

"It's ok," you reply reflexively, though it's anything but. "It's not like the world needs any more of that pesky photosynthesis anyway, right?" The joke is lame, you know that, and yet the little twitch you observe to the corners of Mr Min's mouth just before you take your leave almost manages to lift your spirits for a second or two.

Almost, but not quite.

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** Your sleep is restless and fitful that night; full of dreams the events of which you can't quite remember, but leave you with a lingering feeling of anxiety even after you wake, groaning curses into your pillow at the sound of your alarm.

As you begrudgingly ready yourself for work, you try your best not to look outside. It'll only upset you all the more if you do. Your curtains remain resolutely closed as you slump about the place, picking at your breakfast with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, your muesli tasting even drier than it usually does.

You don't finish it; appetite spoiled by the sounds of heavy machinery rumbling above the usual purr of morning traffic. Out of sight does not mean out of mind, apparently, and as you wash out your cereal bowl and swig down the last dregs of your coffee, you still can't help but keep glancing towards your windows, wondering whether or not your precious tree might already be gone.

Perhaps if it wasn't so obvious how glorious a day it is, you might do better at resisting the temptation to take a peek, hoping that the view you've so cherished over the years will still be there. Through the small gap between the fabrics shielding your windows the sunshine sneaks in - a thin slip of light that sparkles across the kitchen tile - and when you finally push them back, the room is flooded with a golden glow so warm and bright you feel it all the way down to your bones.

Blinking rapidly as the light hits your face, an airy sigh of relief fills the air. The tree is still there, for now - just as tall and as beautiful as it always has been - but it’s a bittersweet sight. This might be the last time you’ll ever see its branches full of blossom in the month of May, never again to taste the sweet apples September brings, or feel the crunch of its autumn leaves beneath your feet. It feels so unjust - so unfair - that a tree so giving and consistent should be cut down in its prime.

A group of men in bright yellow construction hats come along after a little while, and watching them stand there congregated around its trunk, laughing and joking with one another, puts a lump in your throat that you can’t displace no matter how much you may try to swallow it away. You turn your back to the window, unable to bear watching them discuss the best way to bring it down, gesturing up to the branches you’d spent so much of your childhood climbing. You’re already late for work, anyway, and it's not as though standing around sulking is going to change anything. All you can hope is that it might still be there by the time you get home - safe for at least one more day.

It’s not, though. Of course it’s not. Aside from the playground equipment, the tree is - was - the biggest obstacle in the developer’s way. Logically, you knew that, and yet the pain that pierces your chest when you see your tree is gone so sharp that for a second, it steals your breath away. You cling to the iron bars of the park fence that you pass every day on your way home, tears gathering in your eyes, frustrated that in the fading daylight you can’t even make out the remaining stump from where you’re standing.

You’re not even sure it’s a conscious decision that you make that leads you to suddenly climb up and over the bars to enter the park, but somehow you end up doing it anyway, throwing your handbag over first so as not to risk getting tangled. The last time you did this was as a teenager with a group of friends, back when the prospect of illegal trespass filled you with a sense of thrill rather than the anxiety it does now, your heart bounding as the grass muffles your somewhat inelegant landing.

“And this is why heels are never a good choice,” you mutter to yourself as they sink into the mud with every step you take across the small field. Even though it’s getting dark you know exactly which direction to take, and in no time at all you start to see the remnants of today’s slaughter scattered across the ground, kicking up blossom with your feet.

You’re glad there’s no one around to hear the small squeak of distress that you make when your eyes finally land on the stubby, splintered stump the construction workers have left behind. You imagine they’ll probably dig that up too, eventually - rip its remains right up out of the soil and dump it in the same place as they did the rest - but for now, it’s still here. A reminder of all the future memories you’ve lost the chance to make. Perhaps it’s all just stupid sentimentality, but you’d always imagined that your children would one day enjoy this tree - this park, this playground - as much as you did growing up.

And now it’s all gone, all lost, and before you know it you’re squatted amongst the blossoms and there’s a tear dripping down your cheek as your fingertips trace the many age rings that run through the wood, round and round.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, throat tight. You know you’re being ridiculous, sat here in the dark apologising to a tree - to no-one - but you do it anyway. Stupid or not, it feels like the right thing to do. Breath shuddering as you exhale, you close your eyes, palm pressed against what little bark remains, rough to the touch. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save you.”

“I’m sure you did all you could.”

It’s amazing, really, how quickly tears can suddenly dry up when someone is caught off their guard. Startled, you lose your balance at the sudden voice that comes from behind you and end up falling straight back onto your butt with an ungraceful ‘oompf’ and much flailing of arms. Luckily, you’re too alarmed to feel much embarrassment, (although you’re sure that’ll come later), and it’s with wide eyes that you look up past all of the hair that’s fallen out of place to stare at whoever it was that just so unexpectedly spoke.

There’s too little daylight left to make them out clearly, though their tall silhouette is decidedly male, just as their voice had been. He - whoever he is - makes no move to help you as you gape up at him, open-mouthed.

He does say your name, though, and that's enough to have you scrambling to your feet in a panic as he continues in a tone that sounds almost as panic-stricken as you feel.

"I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean to startle you."

“Do I know you?” you ask sharply, frantically pushing your hair back into place as your heart races away - though you try not to let it show. There aren’t exactly many men in your life - none as tall as this one, anyway - so you’re sure it can’t be someone you know, even if you’ve yet to see his face.

He seems to falter with his reply, shifting his weight.

“In a manner of speaking.” Suspicious, your eyes narrow, arms folding across your chest as you wait for him to explain further.

He doesn’t.

“Ok…” Uneasy, your hand reaches down to rest on the clasp of your handbag so that you’re ready to fling it open at a moment’s notice. It’s not as though you’ve got anything in the way of protection in there, mind you, but you’re fairly certain that if you lobbed your phone hard enough at his head it’d give you at least a few good seconds to make your getaway. “How do you know me, then? Who are you?”

“My name is Namjoon,” the stranger answers, ignoring your first question. “And this is…” He hesitates, exhaling heavily as he continues, “... was… my tree.” Your head turns to allow your gaze to follow his gesture, your confusion only growing when you realise he means the very same stump to which you were just apologising so sincerely.

“Your tree?” you ask in a deadpan tone as you turn back to him, one eyebrow raised in scepticism.

Sure, some people might have called your attachment to the tree in question a little… overenthusiastic, shall we say… but this guy is just weird.

“Yes,” he states plainly as if his answer should be obvious. “All dryad has a tree to which they are assigned, and this one was mine. For over a hundred years, this was my home.”

“Oh…. Kay,” you repeat slowly, your fingers curling around the edges of your phone having already reached into your bag while he was still speaking. “Well, that’s… good for you.”

This guy is clearly nuts. Either that, or he’s high on something. There have been stories going around on the news lately detailing a spate of attacks on women in public spaces in a neighbourhood not too far from this one, and it’s with that in mind that you slowly start to back away, making sure not to turn your back. As you make your way around him he turns on the spot to watch, eerily silent and still.

“It’s getting late, I better get back,” you explain, taking each step faster and faster until you’re finally a good enough distance away to turn around and half walk/half run the rest of the way across the field, back towards the gate.

It’s only now, as you hurry your way to safety, that your body begins to exhibit the fright that you’ve been feeling inside; panting hard and fast, fingers trembling. You can’t hear him following but that does nothing to slow you down, eager to get back to your flat and firmly lock the door behind you.

“Please wait!” you hear him call out, and now you’re flat out running, stumbling and very nearly twisting your ankle when you glance over your shoulder and see his tall silhouette coming after you. He calls your name again, “Please!” and against all your better judgement you find yourself slowing down, unable to just ignore the desperation you’d heard in his voice. At least you’re nearer the road, now; nearer the houses where surely someone would hear you shout or scream for help, should it come to that.

Lord, you hope it doesn’t come to that. You always thought it was curiosity that was meant to get you killed, not kindness. Maybe you can be the first.

“Look, I don’t know what your deal is-” you begin as you slowly turn around, straightening your shoulders to try and look as confident as possible, “-bu-”

What… the hell?

It’s not often that you find yourself at a total loss for words, but this is most definitely one of those times; rendered speechless by the alien appearance of the man before you. Now that you can see him properly - illuminated in the golden glow of the nearby streetlights - you realise that this ‘Namjoon’ is even stranger than you originally thought. Not only is he almost completely naked, wearing nothing but some sort of loincloth wrapped tightly around his waist, but interwoven amongst his hair is an immeasurable number of flower blossoms - almost more petal than there is hair.

And now you step closer, that isn’t the only oddity you see. The tips of his ears are long and pointed, like the elves in fantasy novels, and his fingers are strange, too. They’re longer than normal; wispy at the ends, almost.

And his skin… his skin is tinged… green?

“Holy shit,” you whisper to yourself, uncaring of the way your mouth remains open and gaping as you finish your long up and down look and then hesitantly look him in the eyes; the deepest of emerald green.

Now that you can finally make out his expression, you're caught off guard by just how sheepish and awkward this creature looks. In fact, he seems to be having almost as much trouble looking you in the eyes as you do his - his long fingers moving restlessly where they hang at his sides.

“I wouldn’t ask for your help, but there’s no one else...” Namjoon explains quietly, almost as though he’s embarrassed. “My kind are so few, now, and so widely spread.” He looks helplessly around himself, glancing up at the sky, and as the light catches on his high cheekbones you suddenly realise just how handsome this man - this dryad - is. Full lips, and a straight nose. A long, limber body… “I… don’t know where I should go… what I should do. Yours is the only voice I’ve known in so long," he admits sadly, your heartstrings tugging in reply.

"So you're… a dryad?" you repeat, the word foreign on your tongue.

He nods, "I am," and all you can do is nod dumbly right back, at a total loss for what to say.

Outwardly, you look surprisingly calm (all things considered), but inwardly, your frazzled brain is working overtime as it desperately tries to make sense of all this new, strange information. The only trouble is, though, is that none of this makes any sense. Not even a little bit; not the words he's said, nor the ways he looks.

But what other explanation could there be for his sudden appearance and his appearance, other than the one you've been given? You've seen some pretty impressive Halloween costumes in your time, but nothing like this. And how else would he know your name unless he really does know you 'in a manner of speaking', just like he said?

It doesn't make any of less unnerving, of course, even if it is the truth, but if it is, then you can't help but feel at least a little bit responsible for this creature stood waiting so anxiously in front of you. If Namjoon really was inhabiting your tree for all this time - god, that sounds so insane even just to think it inside your head - then it's him that you failed tonight, not just some inanimate objects. It's him you let down when his tree had come crashing to the ground, and suddenly filled with even more guilt than you were before for being so powerless to stop it.

Yes, you lost a tree that you loved, but Namjoon lost his home. And now he's all alone and all he doesn't even have -

"Ok," you blurt out before you give yourself a chance to second guess the split-second decision you've just made. "You can stay." Namjoon blinks, his head tilting to the side. "With me," you explain further. "It's the least I can do. At least until you find your feet."

You can feel yourself blushing as you come to the end of your sentence, but the rosiness of your cheeks is nothing compared to the way they flare up when your invitation finally soaks in and Namjoon's face breaks into a smile more breathtaking than any other you've ever seen. It lights up his whole face; screwing up his eyes, lifting his cheeks and dimpling them deeply.

God, those dimples. No one should be blessed with dimples the likes of his when they're already so handsome. They make your heart flutter wildly, your breath catching as he takes a step closer with his hands clasped together in front of his bare chest in a show of gratitude.

"I can?" he asks, eyes wide, "You're sure?"

"Not really," you laugh, not quite believing it even yourself. Namjoon's smile falters and you find yourself rushing to reassure him, eyes widening. "But I can't just leave you out here with nowhere to go."

And then it's back - that happy twinkle that has you bashfully returning his smile, adjusting the strap of your handbag as he whispers his warmest of thanks.

Luckily, there aren’t many people about to witness both you and Namjoon clamber your way back over the park railings; clamber being the appropriate word. For someone which some long, graceful limbs, Namjoon proves himself to be even more of a clutz than you are, very nearly leaving what little clothing he has behind when he almost gets stuck halfway over, and as the two of you quickly make your way back, you make a note that first order of business has to be to find him something more appropriate to wear.

He’ll be far too distracting, otherwise.

“Here we are.” You stand back from your front door and gesture for Namjoon to head on inside the flat ahead of you, which he does so with a small nod. He doesn’t think to turn on the lights, though, so you do it for him, smiling when the sudden brightness brings him to a halt and has him blinking up at the lampshade, a furrow in his brows.

How much understanding does he have of the world in which he now finds himself? Electricity had probably only been recently discovered the last time Namjoon walked freely, but it certainly wouldn’t have been used commonly or in homes - if dryads even have homes aside from the trees in which they dwell. If he was able to hear your voice all this time, then surely Namjoon must’ve had some consciousness with which to observe and learn as the times changed around him?

You watch as he turns on the spot, quietly surveying his surroundings, and have to stifle a laugh when you notice the way his toes are wriggling into the faux fur rug that sits in the centre of your living room. Cute. Bizarre, yes, but cute.

His eyes meet yours as he finishes his 360 and you feel flustered at having been caught staring so unashamedly. Not that Namjoon seems to realise this; smiling innocently as you cough and turn away to lock the door firmly behind you.

“I know it’s not the biggest place, but it’s comfy enough,” you say, hanging up your handbag on the hooks by the door. “And there’s only one bed, but the sofa’s not bad.” You pause, thoughtful. “Do… dryads need to sleep?” you ask, hoping he won’t think you ignorant or rude for asking. Namjoon nods.

“In our natural form, we have all the same needs and bodily functions as you humans do.”

“Oh. Well, I guess I better show you where the bathroom is, then,” you grin, your lame attempt at humour falling flat when all Namjoon does is nod solemnly in response and follow after you down the hall.

You’re very aware of his presence as you lead the way, and just how tall he really is. He doesn’t seem to have much of a concept of personal space - so much so that when you come to a stop outside of the bathroom he almost crashes right into your back, not even thinking to take a step back when you quickly turn and do so yourself, cheeks flushed with heat.

“You’ll find everything you need in there. Shampoo and…” You glance up at the blossoms in his hair. Will that even need washing? “Stuff.” Again he nods, taking in everything you say with the utmost sincerity. “And this one here is my room,” you explain, going just a little further.

You wish you’d left the door to your bedroom closed this morning. It’s messier than you’d usually keep it, last nights clothes crumpled in a heap at the foot of the bed thanks to your former foul mood, but Namjoon’s expression shows no hint of judgement as he enters your room uninvited and begins to look around. He doesn’t touch anything - even he seems to realise that’d be a step too far - but that doesn’t stop him from wandering right over to your bedside table and taking a good long look at the photograph that sits there; you and your best friend at her wedding flashing matching thigh garters to the camera.

You hide your embarrassment by busying yourself in your chest of drawers, searching for something might just fit. Everything of yours will be far too short for limbs as long as his, but thankfully memory serves you well and leads you to some old jogging bottoms belonging to your ex-boyfriend that you’d kept stashed away out of sentimentality.

“Here,” you say, straightening up and then almost dropping the joggers you’d held out to show him when you see what Namjoon’s been looking at whilst you were otherwise distracted; the black lace bra hanging from the post of your bed. He tilts his head to see it better and once again you feel your cheeks begin to burn, rushing forward and flapping the clothes you’ve found at him to pull his attention away from your unmentionables. “You can wear these tonight!” Your voice sounds near-hysterical when you speak, and you have to make a considered effort to lower your tone from the screech you just made when you next open your mouth, thrusting the joggers into his hands. “Tomorrow I’ll have to see about buying you some proper clothes but…. these will have to do for now.”

You hope he’s not picky. Your waitressing job doesn’t exactly pay well, so it’ll have to be Primark’s finest or else nothing at all.

“These are perfect, thank you.” Perfect? Hardly. There are bits of frayed thread hanging from the waistband, and you’re pretty sure the crotch was starting to get a bit threadbare the last time you wore them. At least now you know he’s not picky - cheap and cheerful should do just fine. “This isn’t how I imagined your room to be,” he says, his eyes leaving yours to glance at the walls.

“You imagined my room?” you ask, eyes widening. Clearly, Namjoon has no idea of the connotations attached to what he just said and continues as if you hadn’t just spoken at all.

“I remember there were some pictures you wanted to buy…” he murmurs, frowning as he recalls the memory. “A boy named Justin?” Namjoon turns back to you, oblivious to how his reminder of your teenage crush makes you feel as though you want to disappear into a hole in the ground. “But I see no men on your walls.” You laugh self-consciously, rubbing your arm.

“Well, maybe you might’ve done ten years ago.” Namjoon looks vaguely confused for a moment, furrowing his brows. “Mr Timberlake hasn’t shown his face around here in quite some time.”

“That’s good,” Namjoon blurts out, and for a split-second afterwards you swear you see his cheeks redden - his eyes darting away before he quickly adds, “I-I like your room as it is. When I said it was different, I meant… good different.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.” You know you’re not imagining how awkward the silence is that follows. Namjoon doesn’t seem to know where to put himself now, hovering silently by the side of your bed.

It’s amazing how human his mannerisms are, really, given how he’s not really human at all. It’s a little endearing, truth be told.

“Are you hungry?” you ask, though you’re not very much yourself. You ate at the restaurant before you left, and it’s getting too late to want to eat a full meal now.

“No, but thank you,” he says, following after you when you leave the room and pausing when you stop to retrieve a spare blanket and pillow from the small cupboard along the hall.

“I guess we’ll just get you set up for bed, then.” Like a puppy, he follows at your heels until you stop again, turning. “You can go get changed in the bathroom while I make up the sofa if you want.” Namjoon looks down at the joggers he’s folded over his arm, seemingly having forgotten they were even there.

“Oh.” He nods. “Yes, I’ll do that.” And then he heads back the way you both came, leaving you on your own, and it’s only when the bathroom door clicks shut that you feel as though you’re able to breathe properly for the first time since coming home.

Closing your eyes for a second, you greedily inhale; eyes opening again when an exhale escapes as an anxious sigh, shaking a little. Are you doing the right thing here? Sure, Namjoon seems harmless enough, some might even say a little nieve, but that doesn’t mean he really is. He could be lying - he could be dangerous - and whilst your gut tells you otherwise, your gut has been known to be wrong before.

It all feels like too much to think about right now, so you focus instead on arranging the sofa cushions and blankets for his makeshift bed as comfortably as you can. Whatever Namjoon may turn out to be, he’s certainly going to be too tall for this sofa to be any kind of permanent solution, that’s for sure.

How long is he even going to end up staying? It’s not as though he can go out into the world looking like-

“Can I be of any help?” You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Namjoon’s voice, mouth popping open as you abruptly straighten up to see him standing by the arm of the sofa, watching you.

“No, no it’s ok. All done,” you say, distracting yourself from the sight of your ex’s joggers hanging so low across Namjoon’s hips by patting a pillow into place.

You really, really should’ve given him one of your t-shirts to wear. Even if it didn’t quite fit, a crop top would still be better than Namjoon completely topless - too innocent to even think of attempting to cover himself up.

Perhaps dryads are asexual? You’ll have to list that to the long list of questions you already have but for now, your head still feels too muzzy from everything that’s happened today for you to want to add to it even more.

Namjoon softly says your name, drawing your attention.

“Thank you. I’ve always known you were kind, even as a child, but I still worried-”

“No, no, don’t be silly,” you interrupt, too flustered by what he’s already said to allow him to continue with such generous praise. “If you change your mind about being hungry, please just help yourself.”

“Thank you,” he nods. You have a sneaking suspicion he’s holding himself back from starting to gush again from the way he licks his lips when they close, smiling when you do.

“Goodnight then,” you say, stepping away from the sofa to allow him to sit. He bounces once or twice to test it out.

“Goodnight. Dream sweetly,” he bids you, calling out as you disappear down the hallway, and, just as he so wished, you do.

You dream of warmth and sunshine dappled through branches; the smell of grass and eyes just as green. You dream of the smell of blossoms and crisp red apples, juice so sweet. The images and sensations are so lovely - so very different from the ones that had plagued you the previous night - that you fight against the light that pours into your room past the curtains you’d forgotten to close, unwilling to wake and leave them behind any sooner than absolutely necessary. Eventually, you stumble from your bedroom and out into the living room, rubbing sleepily at your eyes; nearly screaming when you open them and see an arm dangling over the edge of your sofa.

But then it all comes flooding back; last night, your tree - Namjoon. You’d half expected to wake up and discover that it was all just a dream, but no, here he is, still fast asleep in a position that can’t be anywhere near comfortable: one leg hooked over the back of the sofa and his neck cricked to the side. His full lips are slightly parted with the weight of the breaths he takes, his bare chest rising and falling steadily having long since lost the blanket you’d given him onto the floor.

You feel like a creep for staring, but honestly, you don’t feel like anyone could really blame you. It’d be bad enough if Namjoon’s appearance was just intriguing (and he is, of course, no doubt) but to be so handsome as well? What right-minded person wouldn’t want to look?

Still, you tear yourself away in the end. You have an earlier shift to get to today, and you haven’t forgotten what you said about finding Namjoon some clothes. With a busy day ahead, you move about your flat getting ready as quietly as you can so as not to disturb your unusual guest, only allowing yourself another long look once you’re ready to go and leaving him a note to explain your absence and asking him to please stay put.

You’re not sure what the neighbours would make of a topless man with green skin roaming the halls, given that Mrs Taylor downstairs already tried to call the landlord on you once for daring to venture out to fetch your post in just your dressing gown.

Your shifts tend to drag most days, really, but today’s seems particularly stubborn. You spend most of the time worrying what Namjoon is getting up to; if he’s woken up yet, if he’s eaten or if he’s listened to your advice. You presume he must’ve, seeing as you haven’t heard any breaking news on the radio about aliens or demons or such like. You get through it, though - avoiding all the questions your colleagues throw at you about why you’re so distracted - and before you know it you’re already on your way home with paper bags stuffed full of clothes slung across each of your arms.

You hope he likes the things you’ve chosen. It’s kind of hard guessing the fashion sense of someone that likely doesn’t even have any concept of the word.

It’s strangely quiet on the other side of the door when you come to unlock it - so much so that you find yourself bracing yourself for trouble as you push it open with your hip, lacking the free hands with which to do it.

“Namjoon?” you call out as you push it closed again in the same way, leaning against it till it clicks.

“Welcome home.” You breathe a sigh of relief when you hear his voice, all the tension fading from your shoulders when you see him sat there on the sofa with that sweet, dimpled smile on his face. He rises when he sees all bags you’re carrying; chivalrously taking them and placing them down on the glass top of your coffee table at your instruction. “Did you have a nice day?” he asks, sinking back down into the sofa cushions as you do the same, letting your handbag slip from your shoulder and onto the floor.

It’s a little disconcerting to come home and have someone ask you about your day, and sound so genuine in doing so. It’s sad, too, that it even strikes you as so unusual, and not for the first time you find yourself thinking that you really should get out more and meet some other adults worth talking to.

“Good. Kinda busy, but good,” you reply, reaching for the nearest bag and pulling it onto your lap in eagerness to show him what you’ve bought. “I got you some things.” Namjoon tilts his head in curiosity, the gesture so cute you can’t help but smile as you pull out the first thing your hands land on - a soft brown hoodie that you place into his waiting lap. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like,” you explain as he holds it up to look at it properly, feeling the texture of the material between his fingers.

Wait….

Fingers?

It’s a good job Namjoon is otherwise preoccupied or else he might notice your dumbfounded expression as you stare at his delicate fingers; no longer thin and willow wispy but fully-formed digits just like yours. Surely you hadn’t imagined them as they’d appeared last night? But if you hadn’t, when had this sudden change come about?

Your eyes scan the rest of him, searching for anything else that might be different, but as far as you can tell everything else remains unchanged; the colour of his skin, the point of his ears, the flowers in his hair. You mean to ask him about it but before you can Namjoon is looking eagerly to the bag on your lap, leaning into your personal space to try and peer inside.

How is it that he smells so good? It’s not as though there’s any aftershave lying about that he could’ve used, which must mean this sweet, floral scent is all his own. It’s addictive, even if not the kind of masculine aroma you would expect.

“There’s more?” he prompts, giving you a quizzical look when you startle for apparently no reason.

“Lots more!” you enthuse with a nervous titter, pulling open the bag to better let him see.

One item at a time, you show him everything you purchased, smiling with pleasure at how enthused he seems with each and every piece. “Why don’t you go try some on?” you suggest once both his lap and the coffee table are piled high with clothes, helpfully picking out a few pieces that will go together nicely when you notice how overwhelmed he looks. He takes the clothing you give him with a grateful smile and then heads off into the bathroom to change while you clear up, folding everything else away.

It’s only once you’re finished and have a moment to stop and look around that you suddenly come to realise just how untouched your living room looks. The TV stands silent and your books undisturbed; there’s not even any trace of Namjoon having fed himself throughout the day, even when you head into the kitchen just to doubly make sure. There’s no trace of him - no way of guessing that someone else has been here at all.

You hear him tentatively call your name and find him standing anxiously by the entrance to the hall, rubbing at an arm now covered by the sleeve of a long, grey cardigan that fits him just right.

“Don’t you like it?” you ask, mistaking his self-doubt for dislike of the clothing you’ve chosen. Namjoon is quick to shake his head, his hand dropping back down to his side so you’re able to see just how long the sleeves are - so long that they reach almost to the tips of his fingers. It doesn’t look silly, though. Quite the opposite. It looks… cute to see someone as big as Namjoon look kind of small.

“No, I like it all very much,” he assures you, looking down at his torso as he grabs the hem of the white t-shirt underneath and stretches it out. “It just….” He hesitates, pressing his lips together for a moment. “... Is this your kind of style?”

“Of course it is!” Namjoon smiles when you do, his posture relaxing almost immediately at your words of reassurance. “I wouldn’t have chosen it otherwise. You look really great,” you say, the last bit slipping out without you intending it to.

Not that it seems to do any harm, mind. Despite your embarrassment at having so openly admired him, Namjoon seems to grow both in height and pride at your praise, the appearance of his dimples only adding to how flustered you feel.

You swear you’ve never been this much of a blushing mess around any other man in your life. What you said wasn’t even that bad, for Christ’s sake - just one friend complimenting another - but everything to do with Namjoon just feels…. more somehow.

“What did you do all day, anyway?” Eager to change the subject, you turn around and head back towards the kitchen, patting the heat out of your cheeks as you go. “Have you eaten?”

“I woke up, and then I waited for you to come home,” he explains simply as he enters the room behind you, tugging on the ends of his sleeves. It must feel weird for him to wear clothes, you suppose, after so long of not having any.

Opening your fridge, you expect him to elaborate more but when nothing comes you retract your head from inside and fix him with a questioning look, one eyebrow raised.

“That’s all? You didn’t do anything?”

“I don’t mind,” Namjoon is quick to assure, “I’m used to just watching and waiting… listening.”

“So you’ve just been staring at four walls the whole time I was gone?!” you exclaim, shutting the fridge door so hard Namjoon flinches, his eyes widening. “If you’re gonna stay here, Namjoon, you can’t just sit around all day waiting for me.”

Although, you’ll admit the thought of him doing so is more than just a little flattering.

“Here, look. You can watch TV,” you say, leading him back into the living room and making a grab for the remote, turning it on. The familiar characters of a soap opera appear on the screen, arguing loudly with one another, and up until you turn around and see Namjoon’s wide-eyed stare, you’d completely forgotten how absolutely alien all of this is to him. “I mean, there are loads of stations,” you hasten to add, quickly flicking through the channels faster than Namjoon can probably even keep up until you finally land on what looks very much like a nature documentary - David Attenborough’s soothing voice playing through your speakers.

Namjoon still doesn’t look too sure, though, flinching back in alarm as the pride of lions on the screen suddenly roar in tandem.

You turn it off, abandoning that idea for now.

“Or you can read,” you offer, grabbing a hold of the sleeve of his cardigan and using it to pull him over to your well-stocked bookcase. You completely miss the wide-eyed way he looks down to where you’re touching him, and the blush that turns the apple green of his cheeks a sweeter shade of pink. “You can read, right?”

“Y-yes,” Namjoon is quick to answer, head bobbing rapidly up and down,

“Then just help yourself, ok? I don’t want you to be bored.” You smile as Namjoon shuffles closer to the bookcase and begins to inspect the different titles, his neck tilting at a 90-degree angle to read their spines. “I can even show you how to use my laptop tonight, if you want,” you offer, though it seems you’ve lost Namjoon to the literary world already, judging by his lack of response.

Perhaps another night, then - though you imagine he’ll become interested sooner or later. If he’s hoping to find others of his kind then you can’t think of any better way to do that than via the internet. It’s not as though you’ve got any books on dryads lying about the place.

You’re still smiling to yourself, watching with affection as Namjoon gingerly pulls out a book from the shelf to hold it reverently in his hands when the sound of bird song finds your ears. From somewhere outside your window, the bird stretches its lungs, and despite already having his nose deep in the book he chose Namjoon is quick to look up, his head turning swiftly in the direction of the sound.

“Parus major,” he murmurs distractedly, abandoning his book back onto the shelf and then walking past you to the narrow french doors that lead onto the small balcony that lies beyond. His nose nearly presses up against the glass as he peers out through the rectangular panes.

“Say what now?” you ask, joining him there and craning your neck to try and see whatever it is that he’s looking at. A bird, you presume, but who the hell knows with a name like that.

“Great tit,” he clarifies, and for a second you could’ve sworn you seriously misheard what he just said, blinking rapidly in surprise until you see what it is he’s now pointing at past the glass. Just a few feet away a little bird is hopping across your balcony rail, chirping in the afternoon sun, and your heart swells when you look back to Namjoon and see the absolute affection with which he watches its every move, a contented smile on his face.

Would it be safe to allow him just a few moments outside? It might risk him being seen, but then it’s only the communal backyard that your balcony overlooks, and it’s not as though you’ve ever noticed anyone out there whenever you’re ventured out before…

“Here,” you say, gently nudging him aside so you’re able to unlock the doors and swing them open wide. A breeze enters the room, bringing with it the scent of freshly cut grass, and you inhale deeply as both you and Namjoon step out onto the little balcony. Unfortunately, your arrival frightens off the bird, but your companion doesn’t seem to mind. He just looks happy to be outdoors again - a blissful smile on his face as the wind ruffles the petals amongst his hair that somehow never scatter.

“You have a garden!” he enthuses, having soon spotted the little planting box hooked over the far side of the railing. He leans over to get a better look at it, and you try your best not to feel too embarrassed by the sorry state of what flowers remain inside, half-dead and holey with insect bites. Now that summer is on its way you’ve been meaning to dig them up and re-plant it, but somehow you’ve never quite found the time.

“It’s nothing special,” you dismiss, “But you can come out here more often if you want. Just make sure no one sees you.” Namjoon smiles warmly, pleased by the idea.

“I’d like that,” he says softly, gazing down at you from his far greater height. The colour of his eyes may be somewhat unnatural - too bright and startling a green for any human - but that certainly doesn’t make them unpleasant to look at. You’re certain you feel your stomach lurch with girlish glee as his smile grows all the wider when you bashfully smile back, fiddling with the buttons of your work blouse.

It’s strange, the way Namjoon looks at you. You’ve known him all of a day and yet he regards you with the same easy affection you imagine one would a life-long friend, and you suppose, on some level, you are as far as he’s concerned. It’s both a little unnerving and yet wonderful all at once, and you find yourself hoping, as you gaze back up at the serene expression on his face, that over time you might get to know him in the same way he seems to know you.

“Namjoon,” you begin, meaning to make a start on all your questions until his stomach loudly rumbling derails your train of thought. Frowning, you remember how obvious it was that Namjoon hadn’t eaten whilst you were gone and quickly decide that this needs to be put right. “You have to promise me you’ll still look after yourself when I’m not here,” you tell him in a mildly scolding tone, trying to ignore how utterly adorable he looks whilst so utterly bewildered by the sound his stomach just made. “You’ll make me feel like a bad host, otherwise.” And, just as you’d predicted, Namjoon’s sense of politeness kicks in, his expression turning sheepish as you lead him back inside.

“I’ll make sure I do from now on,” he promises, his whole demeanour brightening when you smile, cocking your head to the side.

“So, what do you fancy?”

***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** Turns out, Namjoon’s favourite thing to eat is… apples.

You’re not sure how to feel about that at first, given how close to cannibalism it sounds that a man who was once a tree bearing the very same fruit seems to enjoy devouring them so much, but you figure there’s enough strangeness going on in your life right now for you to fixate on Namjoon’s eating habits as well.

At least he’s made good on his promise to eat regular meals whilst you’re at work. Granted, it’s never much more than a sandwich here or there, but he always eats well when it comes to the dinners you cook, wolfing them down with plenty of thanks.

He’s started to make himself more comfortable in your home, too, over the past week; keeping himself occupied by slowly making his way through the entirety of your bookcase - book by book, cover to cover. Every day it seems as though you come home to more and more of them piled up on your coffee table or your kitchen counter, but you can’t say you mind the mess. It’s nice that the place feels more lived-in now; all the more homely for having Namjoon in it.

And when he’s done with all your books, having devoured every word with record speed, he finally accepts your offer to help him find his way onto the world wide web. He seems intimidated by it, at first; even warier of your little laptop than he had been of the television in the beginning, prodding at the keys so gingerly you can barely even hear them tip-tap as he types. His full lips press together in concentration as you explain to him how it all works, brows furrowed, but he takes to it all with surprising ease - his eyes filling with wonderment when you introduce him to Google and all the information suddenly right there at his fingertips.

Every day when you come home he’ll have something new to tell you - some random factoid that you may or may not already know. Not that you mind either way, of course. Coming home to the sight of Namjoon leaping off the sofa with excitement to come to greet you has become one of your most favourite parts of the day, his whole body positively vibrating from being so full to the brim of things he just has to share. He’ll take your hands in his and drag you over to the sofa to come to look at all he’s found, and you’ll try your best to not let it show how much even that briefest of touches affects you, willing your face to cool as he shows you art, music - anything and everything.

Never does he say anything of home, though. He never gives any kind of indication that he’s been looking into his origins or his kin and… maybe it’s the wrong thing to do, but you’re happy to never go pushing the matter either. You tell yourself that it’s because it’s not your place - that you’re just not mentioning it because you wouldn’t want to make him feel at all unwelcome, or under pressure to leave - but deep down you know it’s more than that.

Even in this short space of time, you’ve grown alarmingly fond of Namjoon and the constant companionship he provides. With him in your life, you haven’t felt the need to grieve the loss of your tree and all the memories that went with it, because Namjoon remembers every one of them too. He knows all about your family, your childhood friends and all the mischief you got up to, recalling some memories so old that you’d forgotten yourself until he reminds you of them, his eyes sparkling with glee as yours do the same with happy tears on more than just one occasion as the days go by.

You don’t want him to leave, and though you daren’t ask for his opinion, you only hope that he feels the same.

Besides, it’s not just you that would mourn his loss about the place. You’re sure your plants would, too, given how magnificently they’ve grown during the time he’s been here; foliage so thick and lush that it’s as though the winter never happened. It’s not as if he spends every moment tending to them, mind It’s just a dryad thing, or so he says. His touch and voice invigorate them - breathe new life into stems once wilted - and you can’t help but find yourself drawing comparisons between both your life and that of your flowers. With Namjoon around, you bloom.

That’s not to say he’s without any flaws, though. He’s a little messy, sometimes. A little forgetful. He can’t cook for shit, either, which is a lesson you learn one afternoon when you come home to the smell of burnt pastry and a living room full of smoke. You find him in the kitchen, coughing as he frantically turns knobs on the stove, and once you’ve thrown all the windows open and cleared the air enough for him to be able to speak, he confesses with much embarrassment what it is he’d been trying - and failing - to do.

He’d found a recipe for a rustic apple pie online, he says, and he’d wanted so desperately to surprise you with it when you came home. Namjoon looks so bereft at the charred lump of… something that you pull out of the oven, that you only wish there was a tiny crumb of it that wasn’t burnt to cinders so that you could at least pretend to enjoy it, if only to make him smile. Instead, you end up promising to make another one in his stead just as soon as you’re able to, and that seems to cheer him up plenty, all woes forgotten as he smiles so sweetly that it has your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

Not that that’s something so unusual, these days. It seems like every time you look at him your body has something to say about it, and the more time it goes on the harder that physical reaction becomes to ignore - especially as his appearance has continued to change. First, it was the fingers, but not too long after that, you’d noticed that the points of his ears had started to round, too. It’d taken several days, but they look no dissimilar to yours, now, and not only that but his skin has completely lost the green tinge it once had.

When you ask him about it, he tells you that it’s a natural thing that happens when dryads are away from their trees for too long; a defence mechanism, if you will, to allow them to blend in. And if it weren’t for the flowers in his hair, Namjoon would blend in just fine, just as human-looking as any other person on the street.

“You wanna go out for a bit?” you ask late the one night, turning your attention from the TV to Namjoon sat beside you, absorbed in his latest online purchase - a paperback copy of ‘Me Before You’.

You’d warned him that that particular piece of fiction was very different from the others you’d seen him enjoy before, but Namjoon hadn’t been deterred. It seems like he might have a little bit of a romantic side, it turns out, and that makes it all the harder for you not to swoon as you watch him slowly turn the pages, deep in concentration.

You wonder if he’d hold you as tenderly as he does his books if you were in his arms? Or if he’d treat you with such care as -

You stop that dangerous line of thought right there, giving your head a little shake to clear it away before you burst into flame at the mental images that invade your head.

“Joon,” you call again, realising he hadn’t heard you, and at the sound of his newly found nickname, Namjoon’s head finally rises from the page, blinking owlishly back at you.

“Sorry?” he asks, his voice husky from having not said a word in almost over an hour.

“Do you wanna go out?” you repeat patiently, smiling at the way his jaw slightly drops in response.

“Out?” he echoes, turning to look at the windows despite it already being dark outside. You suppose the notion of leaving the house might be a little daunting after having been stuck inside for all this time, but now that he no longer looks so different you think it’d be good to get him out a little - to introduce him to some more of the modern world through more than just a screen.

“Yeah. It’s a nice night, I thought maybe we could go for a walk.” Without giving him a chance to reply, you turn off the TV and get up to start getting ready, leaving what you hope is very little room for argument on his part.

“But… my hair.” Despite his hesitation, Namjoon still closes his book and rises just the same, though not without first glancing at his page number. He doesn’t need a bookmark; absentminded when it comes to almost everything other than such tiny little details.

“You’ve got a hat, don’t you?” you say with a smile, pulling on your light jacket where it hangs by the door. Without any further argument, Namjoon makes his way into your tiny spare room (which is more of a cupboard, really) to retrieve his beanie from the spare set of drawers you’d assigned as his own.

He’s pulling it on as he walks back in, and without thinking, you reach up to adjust it as he comes to stand in front of you, within tippytoes reach. He’s never worn it before, but all this time you’ve had a sneaking suspicion it would suit him. Looking up at him now, as you straighten it out, you see it most certainly does. It draws attention to the sculpted lines of his face and accentuates his eyes - the eyes that are held wide at the familiarity with which you’re touching him; something that’s been happening more and more often just lately.

“See? You’d never know,” you say quickly, pulling away as you realise what it is you’re doing, looking away and then down at the floor. Knowing how closely he’s watching, you pull yourself together and smile as you grab your keys, jingling them in your hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

It doesn’t take you long for the two of you to walk to where it was you’d hand in mind when suggesting your outing. Living in an inner-city area, there’s not exactly an abundance of nature to be found (especially now the park has been torn down), but there is a pretty decent river that cuts right through the centre not too far of a distance away. Lined by pavements each side, benches dot along its banks at regular intervals, and you’ve spent many a night before Namjoon’s arrival walking these concrete paths when sleep hasn’t come so easy.

The two of you do the same, now, in companionable silence, but you don’t mind the quiet. You can tell from the look on Namjoon’s face that he’s enjoying himself - taking every little bit of it in - and that’s enough for you, even if he doesn’t particularly say much. You find a nice spot for you to sit, and as you watch the way the water ripples with the reflection of the moon up above, you realise that this is the first time you’ve ever had a relationship like this; one so comfortable and familiar that you needn’t say a word.

All your life you’ve been told you were a chatterbox - too assertive, too loud, too bossy - but… not with Namjoon. With him, there’s no need to be. Most of the time he already seems to know what you’re thinking before you’ve said it out loud anyway, so what need is there to shout?

Dragging away your gaze from his moonlit face, it drifts down to focus on where your hand is resting on the bench, palm pressed flat to the wood. Beside it lays Namjoon’s, his pinky barely an inch away from yours; so close that all it would take would be for you to stretch out your fingers for them to touch, and god, you so, so want to. It’s an urge so strong you barely have the words to describe the way it feels; a physical ache in your chest; a pang of longing that comes in wave upon wave whenever the two of you are alone.

Another glance at Namjoon shows him gazing up at the stars without a care in the world - with no clue of what you’re thinking. It makes you sigh, frustrated with yourself for indulging these feelings and allowing them to grow, and though you’re sure it was only a quiet one Namjoon picks up on it nonetheless. He rounds his attention on you, concerned.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, and of course, your first response is to plaster a smile on your face and deflect rather than address what’s bothering you - what’s been on your mind for every waking moment over the last few days.

“Nothing, I’m fine.” The lie rolls easily off your tongue and Namjoon shows no sign of disbelieving you, smiling back and then lifting his chin to look back up at the sky. Namjoon may be smart but he’s also very trusting - too trusting - and part of you worries that other people may take advantage of that if they get the chance. It’s just another thing that makes you want to cling to him all the more; protect him in a way that might seem absurd considering his stature.

This is no good, feeling this way. Namjoon has never shown anything more toward you than a friendly interest, and you know it’s not right for you to want to covet him or keep him away from his kin. You need to get over this. Push past it. Because above all else, you want Namjoon to be happy. Even if that means that it’s somewhere else, somewhere not with you.

“Have you managed to find out anything about any other dryads?” you ask, taking the plunge. Namjoon seems mildly surprised by your question, his eyebrows rising as he looks at you and then very quickly looks away, focusing on something else across the water.

“Not really,” he answers after a moment of silence. “There’s a lot of stuff online but most of it is pure myth and speculation. Nothing useful.” You feel both guilty and glad on hearing that; glad that it sounds as though he’s not about to leave any time soon, but guilty for even feeling that way at all. “I can’t imagine many others like me would even know how to go about making contact through the internet.” Namjoon smiles ruefully, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his thighs to brace his chin in his hands.

“What about your parents? Don’t you know where they might be… planted?” God, this sounds ridiculous.

Namjoon shakes his head.

“Dryad’s don’t have families, in the traditional sense of the word. We’re born as saplings rather than conceived.” The wind blows and Namjoon adjusts his beanie, pulling it down further over his ears against the cold. “Back when this whole area was all woodland there would’ve been a community here where dryad would’ve been able to walk freely, but…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders as he straightens up and sighs, leaning back against the bench.

“Do you miss them?” It must be so lonely, you think, to exist for so long as Namjoon has with no family or friends to speak of.

“You can’t really miss someone you’ve never met or something you’ve never had,” he answers, and though you expect him to sound sad you’re pleased that he doesn’t. He sounds more thoughtful if anything. Philosophical. It suits him. “Those sort of communes were long before my time.”

“No, I guess you’re right.” Namjoon turns to look at you thoughtfully, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Do you remember when we first met?” You scoff a laugh and his smile grows as he tugs on the sleeves of his hoodie to pull them further down, waiting for your answer.

“You mean back when I thought you were some crazy, naked homeless guy?” you tease and now it’s Namjoon’s turn to laugh, shaking his head.

“I don’t mean then,” he says, “I mean right back at the beginning when you were still just a child.”

“That was a pretty long time ago,” you chuckle awkwardly, rubbing at your arm. It always makes you feel a little strange whenever you get reminded of just how long Namjoon and you have known each other. Technically, Namjoon’s been around for almost a whole century longer than you have, and even though the two of you look more or less the same age, part of you wonders whether Namjoon still sees you as the little girl you once were.

God, you hope not.

“It was, but I still remember it just like it was yesterday,” he smiles, oblivious to the tumultuous thoughts inside your head. “You were so brave, marching over to defend me the way you did.” You feel yourself blush at his praise, looking away as you dismissively shrug your shoulders.

“Those boys should’ve never had a knife in the first place.”

“I never got the chance to thank you, back then.” You nearly jump when you suddenly feel Namjoon’s hand come to rest on top of your own, ever so tentatively, and when you quickly look up you see him gazing down at where his skin is touching yours, swallowing thickly. He looks nervous when he meets your eyes again, but when you make no move to pull away you feel him relax ever so slightly, the weight of his hand increasing. “But I was - am - very thankful.”

His hand feels so warm on top of yours that you can barely think straight, staring dumbly back at him as he continues,

“You looked at my tree and it felt like you saw me, not just a bunch of branches. I knew you were different from all the other humans, then. You were special.” You feel a lump in your throat and try your best to swallow it rather than burst into tears as your body is willing you to do. It’s overwhelming to find out that in that same moment that you had realised that that tree was so special, Namjoon had been deciding the very same thing about you.

You shudder as his thumb passes over the back of your hand, body tingling at the lightest touch. You’re just about to speak - about to confess just how special he is to you too - but unfortunately, Namjoon is all too quick to let go of your hand, assuming your quiver to be down to the cold rather than the anticipation coursing through you.

The moment is lost, the courage you’d gathered up blown away by the next gust of wind.

“We should get home,” he says with a frown of concern, rising from his seat.

“O-ok,” you reply dumbly, still a little lost for words. Even getting to your feet is slow, both your body and brain lagging behind as you try to process what just happened.

You knew you’d been developing feelings for Namjoon but even you were caught off guard just now by how badly you wanted to kiss him.

Oh, this is bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad.

Thankfully, Namjoon doesn’t seem to realise how distracted you are as you make your way home through the empty streets. He prattles on happily about a documentary he watched recently, though if anyone asked you afterwards you wouldn’t be able to tell them what on earth it was about, so poorly are you listening. You’re too busy trying to ignore the urge to reach and take back his hand as you walk beside him, your fingers twitching with the want to thread them between his.

You’re reluctant to leave his side even once you get home, though you know that some space to clear your head would probably do you good. It’s getting far too late now for there to be any legitimate reason for you to stay up any longer, yet you linger around the living room searching for an excuse anyway as Namjoon makes himself a cup of Chamomile tea to drink before bed, accepting when he offers you a cup to you, too.

“Aren’t you going to sleep yet?” you ask as he sits down on the sofa with the beverage in hand, already having stripped off his thick hoodie and jeans to lounge in t-shirt and shorts instead.

“I was just going to read a little more first,” he replies, picking up his book from the coffee table and nearly sloshing his tea all over himself in the process, narrowly avoiding disaster.

“Oh, ok.” Holding your mug in both hands, you linger by the side of the sofa, eyeing up the cushion next to him. You take a deep breath. “Is it any good?” He looks up, blinking in befuddlement. “Your book,” you explain further, smiling shyly.

“Oh. Um, yes, very.” Namjoon turns it over in his hand, glancing at the cover. “The main character is quite-”

“Wouldyoureadtome?” you blurt out and once more Namjoon is left rapidly blinking, trying to work out what the hell you just said. Taking another deep breath, you gingerly come to sit beside him. “Would you read to me?” you repeat, and this time you know you’re definitely not imagining the blush that fills Namjoon’s cheeks as you ever so carefully shift closer so that your shoulder is touching his arm.

“O-of course,” he agrees, taking a rather large sip of tea before he re-opens the book and makes a start on the first passage.

His words are a little clumsy at the first - nervous at having you listen so attentively, you think - but before long Namjoon settles into a steady, soothing rhythm. If you’re honest, you’re not really listening to the words he’s saying as you slowly finish your tea. You’re just enjoying the deep timbre of his voice instead, relishing in the way you can feel it reverberate from his body into yours where your shoulders touch and luxuriating in this rare moment of closeness the two of you share.

A few pages in you become vaguely aware of your eyelids beginning to droop, but you’re too drowsy, too warm and too comfortable to give it much care. You allow yourself to be lulled by Namjoon’s voice till you’re breathing starts to slow and your grip on your mug loosens, only to be momentarily awoken by the feel of it being gently taken out of your hands and placed elsewhere. Half-asleep, your body moves of its own accord in seek of comfort, not even really aware that it’s Namjoon’s arm that your head has chosen as its pillow or the fabric of his shirt your hand has chosen to fist.

It’s not until the next morning when you wake that you realise any of it at all, your eyes slowly opening to find yourself curled up against his chest with your legs drawn up onto the sofa, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders despite Namjoon having none at all. It’s a wonderful way to wake up but it still startles you none the less, and your body goes rigid for a second as you try to piece together the fragments of last night’s memory whilst trying your best not to wake him.

The sight of your mugs on the table and Namjoon’s book rested between them brings it all back quickly enough, and your cheeks blaze with embarrassment as you realise what happened must’ve happened. Poor Namjoon. You can only hope he wasn’t too mortified by you lolling yourself all over him, or that it wasn’t just out of politeness that he neglected to wake you up and cart you off to your bed for the night.

You feel his body shift as he takes a deep inhale and then softly sighs, biting your lip as you wonder what on earth to say if he would wake up. But then he fidgets again, hips shifting side to side, and you suddenly become aware that it’s not just a blanket wrapped around you but his arm, too, holding you in his sleep.

The realisation makes you feel giddy - fills you to the brim with girlish glee - and you’re not biting your lip from nervousness anymore but rather to keep yourself from smiling too hard or squealing your excitement into his chest. A chest that’s more solid than you had ever anticipated it to be, and a stomach so firm that the feel of it under your fingertips has your pulse quickening and your chest tightening with need.

It’s been a long time for you, and being this close to Namjoon is doing nothing douse the flames of desire that have been gradually gaining heat as the days have gone by.

Decisive action is what’s needed - right now, before you have the chance to do anything more stupid - so as much as you don’t want to, you pry yourself away from Namjoon’s warmth and comfort. You do so slowly so as not to disturb him, and for the most part, you’re successful, only rousing him slightly when you bang your shin on the edge of the coffee table and have to muffle a squeal of pain as you hop and stumble your way out of the room and into your own.

The clock on your bedside table tells you it’s only 5 am - not a time that any decent human being should be awake on a Saturday, in your opinion - so you gratefully climb back under your own covers to nurse your wound and try to get some more sleep. Unfortunately, it doesn’t come quite so easily as it did when you were snuggled up with Namjoon, and you spend a good amount of time just lying there with your eyes closed, daydreaming what it’d be like to have him right there next to you; to be held tight in his big, strong arms.

You do drift off again, eventually, only to wake a few hours later to the sound of Namjoon humming to himself in the next room. It brings a smile to your face immediately, and it stays with you as you ready yourself for the day; showering, primping and preening. You don’t try to fool yourself into thinking that it’s anything other than last night’s developments between you and Namjoon that have put you in such a good mood, even if you don’t quite know how to proceed from here on out. You’re not even certain his actions were conscious ones - he could just be a cuddly sleeper, that’s all.

As with most things, you figure you’ll just work things out as you go along. Life never seems to go to plan whenever you make one, anyway.

Dressed in one of your favourite outfits, you’re positively beaming by the time you emerge into the living room and announce that today is the day you’ll attempt Namjoon’s long-awaited apple pie. He’s excited, of course - even more so when you invite to come into town with you to fetch all the ingredients you might need. It seems your little outing last night has ignited his curiosity for the outside world, and he showers and dresses in record speed as you help yourself to breakfast, eager for the day ahead.

Having made sure his hair is sufficiently covered by the baseball cap of yours that he borrows, the two of you head out for what ends up being a far longer trip than you’d intended it to be. You just hadn’t been able to help yourself when you’d seen the excitement written all over Namjoon’s face as you’d walked the crowded streets, and before you knew it the two of you had ended up foraging in bookstores and boutique, eating lunch together in the sun and touring around the local art gallery.

It isn’t actually until late in the afternoon that you finally manage to drag him to the supermarket to fetch the supplies you need for the pie, and even then he gets waylaid in the gardening section, somehow talking you into buying a bird box for your balcony and what is surely a vastly overpriced bag of seed.

Still, it makes him happy so you're happy too, your cheeks aching from all the incessant smiling you’ve been doing by the time you get home. You start baking right away despite how exhausted you are from traipsing around the city for hours on end, knowing how much Namjoon has been looking forward to it to want to delay things any further. It’ll be the perfect end to the perfect day - as long as you get the recipe right, of course.

Namjoon is quick to offer his help but you gently turn him down, fearful that this pie will end up just as inedible as the last one should he get his hands on it. He finds things to keep himself busy, though, using the last of the day’s remaining light to tend to his little garden and attach the new bird box onto the red-bricked wall of your building outside.

It’s actually a fairly straightforward recipe, and aside from one near-miss where you’d almost added nutmeg to the mix rather than cinnamon, you don’t encounter any other issues. You can hear the TV playing in the living room as you put the pie in the oven so you assume that Namjoon is watching the crime drama he seems to have developed a little bit of an obsession with just lately. If it weren’t so good you might regret ever introducing him to Netflix, but you’re rather looking forward to settling down and passing the time it takes for the pie to bake watching it with him, even though you know you’ll spend the whole time wishing you were snuggled up against his side.

It turns out, however, that Namjoon isn’t quite so fixated on the television as you’d thought he would be when you enter the room. He’s looking down at something on his lap instead, and when you come to sit down next to him you realise it’s one of your photo albums he’s slowly making his way through, smiling with each page that he turns.

“Where’d you find that?” you ask, your cheeks already flushing with embarrassment thanks to the childhood photographs that lie within, a lot of which you’d rather Namjoon not see.

“Your bookcase,” Namjoon answers without taking his eyes off the page, and you could kick yourself for not thinking to stash it away before he inevitably came across it during his search for fresh material to read. He points at a picture in the bottom left that shows a very sulky very of your childhood self pouting at the camera, arms folded. “I remember you hated that dress,” he grins, “But you still cried your eyes out when it ripped.”

As clear as day the memory comes flooding back; all your frustration at the stupid Sunday dress your mother had dressed you in that morning and the dread that’d filled you when it’d caught on one the branches you’d been climbing and torn beyond repair.

“Only because I knew I’d get in trouble!” you exclaim in indignance, confused as to why Namjoon’s started laughing until you look down and realise you’ve got your arms folded across your chest in the very same way as they are in the picture - the very same pout on your face. You uncross them quickly, narrowing your eyes in a glare that Namjoon pointedly ignores as he turns the page again.

“Who’re these people?” he asks curiously, pointing at a large family photo of your mother’s side. It’s the perfect excuse to shuffle closer so you do just that as you begin to explain, pointing at each face in turn, and even once you’re done you don’t think to move away, enjoying each and every brush of your arms or knock of his thigh against yours.

As Namjoon makes his way through the photo album you helpfully identify each person that he asks about, surprised and ever so slightly in awe of the fact he already knows and can name so many without any hints from you at all. How is it he can seemingly remember every single person that’s ever been important to you, and yet never to remember to put the toilet seat down?

“And that’s one of my ex-boyfriends, Brandon,” you explain, grimacing at the sight of him. You should’ve removed that photo years ago, really, but until now you’d pretty much forgotten you even had this album, let alone thought about rearranging it.

Oh well, no time like the present.

You go to peel back the protective plastic covering to take it out, but much to your surprise Namjoon shifts the album out of reach before you can even touch the cover. Eyes narrowed, he glares down at the page.

“Yes, I remember that boy.” You’ve never heard Namjoon’s voice sound so cold, confused by the venomous look he’s wearing. “I didn’t like him,” he states, “At all. I was glad when he stopped coming to the park, even though it made you cry.”

Namjoon…. didn’t like him? Well, he can join the club. It hadn’t taken you long to realise what a douchebag Brandon was, despite the rest of the school acting as though the sun shone out of his arse.

Namjoon’s about to speak when suddenly the timer goes off in the kitchen and you leap to your feet, telling him to ‘hold that thought’ as you run from the room. Pulling open the oven you’re greeted by the delicious smell of perfectly golden pastry, and you beam with pride as you take out your masterpiece and dish up two equal slices for you and Namjoon. It’ll be far too hot to eat yet, of course, but the pouring cream you fetch from the fridge should help with that, barely able to contain your excitement as you near run back into the living room with dishes in hand.

“It looks so gooooood!” you enthuse as you plonk back down into the sofa and thrust Namjoon’s portion into his now empty hands, photo album discarded atop the coffee table. Mouth already watering in anticipation, you pour a generous helping of cream onto your slice and then offer the same to Namjoon.

“It really does.”

And then suddenly another memory hits you mid-pour - the memory of a time when Brandon had stropped off in a huff because you’d dared laugh when an apple had fallen off the tree and hit him straight between the eyes. It’d just seemed unlucky at the time, but now having heard what Namjoon just said…

“Joon,” you begin, frowning slightly as you put the cream back down, pausing to lick the drip that’d spilt off of the end of your finger. “Did you… were you the one that made that apple hit Brandon right in the face?”

Namjoon’s body freezes, his pie-laden spoon hovering in mid-air as it stops halfway to his mouth, eyes widening.

“U-uh…” he stammers, not quite meeting your gaze. It’s not as though he needs to say anything. His guilty expression already tells you everything you need to know. “M-maybe….” It’s almost as though he’s frightened you’ll be mad, but when you start giggle Namjoon visibly relaxes, flashing a sheepish smile.

“Why would you do that?”

“I told you, I didn’t like him,” he says, elaborating further when your eyebrows rise questioningly. “I saw how rough he was with you. How pushy he was, always trying to make you… do stuff.” Namjoon’s cheeks colour with a blush as he looks away, swallowing, and you’re thankful that he does, given how drastically your cheeks redden too. The thought of Namjoon having been witness to all of the pressure Brandon placed on you to do things you weren’t yet ready for - intimate things - makes your whole body cringe with embarrassment.

In fact, you’re sure that that time Brandon had gotten pelted with apples he’d been trying to put the moves on you, and by ‘the moves’ you mean slobbering all over your neck and trying to worm his hand down the front of your jeans. You remember how upset you’d been back then, but now you look back on it Namjoon did you a favour by getting rid of Brandon sooner rather than later.

“Well, thank you for defending me.” You smile shyly as Namjoon does the same, your slices of pie long forgotten as they cool atop the coffee table. “My hero,” you joke and Namjoon laughs self consciously, rubbing the palms of his hands together.

“It’s the least I could do after everything you did for me.”

The two of you fall silent for a second as you do nothing but look back at one another, sat close enough that you can feel it when Namjoon takes a deep breath and then abruptly looks away, breaking eye contact.

“This really does look good,” he comments, reaching out to pick up his bowl only to fall deathly still the moment your hand touches his arm. Stunned by the unexpected contact he turns to look at you, and as your eyes meet you’re forced to swallow with the swell of emotion that suddenly fills you.

You’ve never felt like this before. Never felt like your heart might burst unless you let all the affection and tenderness and… and love held inside of it pour out. You have to tell him. Just you have to now that you realise just how deep your feelings go - how desperately you’re falling in love with his man.

“You know last night, what you said about realising I was special?” you start, trying to ignore the way your voice is slightly wavering as you speak. Your hand is still on his arm but you can’t seem to make yourself let go. If anything your grip only tightens as you force yourself to look up from the floor, hips twisting on the sofa to better face him.

Namjoon nods, and when his hand comes to rest on top of yours your swear you feel your tummy flip a whole 360 degrees. “Well, I just wanted you to know that it was the same for me. I care a lot about you…”

A bright smile lights up Namjoon’s face, his dimples deeper than ever.

“A-and,” you continue, knowing if you let yourself stop now then you’ll never say it right, “You’re important to me… even more now that I’ve met you. Really important.” Tentatively, you turn your hand over and thread your fingers between Namjoon’s, laughing lightly at the dumbstruck way he looks down at your conjoined hands and then squeezes back, bringing them into his lap then placing his other hand over the top, too.

“I am?” he asks, beaming, and with just as stupidly wide of a smile on your face you gleefully nod. Namjoon lets out a little incredulous laugh, looking down at his lap, and before you know it you’re reaching out and touching his face, lifting his chin and letting your fingers wander up into his hair to gently touch the blossoms within.

Who would’ve known, all those years ago, that sight of the very same blossoms that’d drifted to the floor all around you back then, would inspire such strong feelings in you now? Who would’ve known that for all these years you’ve been searching for love it’s been waiting for you, right outside your window?

Namjoon softly says your name, pulling you back to the present, and it’s only now that you realise he’s reached out and is touching you too, his long fingers running through your hair. He shuffles even closer, your thighs pressing as he leans in, and you feel pulse begin to bound as he looks to your lips, licking his own.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, a little breathless and joyfully, you nod.

Yours and Namjoon’s first kiss is nothing like the kind you see in the movies. Neither of you surges forward in some passionate clashing of teeth and tongues, grabbing at each other’s clothes. It’s a much gentler affair than that; a slow slide of Namjoon’s palm to cradle your cheek as he closes the space between you, neither one daring to breathe until after your lips have finally met - a tentative press, testing the waters.

His lips are softer you’d even imagined they would be, light-headed and giddy even after such chasteness.

“Can I kiss you again?” He’s definitely breathless this time and, try as you may, you can’t contain the laugh that escapes you then, disarmed by how sweet he is to keep asking. Overflowing with affection, you throw your arms around his broad shoulders, claiming back what space he’d put between you when you’d laughed and he’d pulled away.

“You don’t have to ask me every time,” you giggle against his lips, thrilled by the feel of Namjoon’s arms curling around your waist to draw you closer.

“Ok,” he grins, his lips still smiling when you kiss him again - a little harder this time, a little more bravely.

He’s a better kisser than you expected he might be, given your assumption that this might be the first time he’s ever done it. He follows your lead, never asking for more; each brush of your lips entirely innocent until you decide to take it further, leaning your body into his as you encourage him to let you in with a teasing swipe of your tongue. And even when he does and your kiss deepens, not one moment of it is rushed. Every touch is gentle - the caress of his hands as they slip under the hem of your shirt nothing short of reverent.

It’s been years since anyone has taken their time with you like this. Usually, it’s all greedy, grabby hands and the bare essentials of foreplay, but with Namjoon it’s all too easy to lose track of time. You kiss for what feels like hours - like teenagers who know don’t know any better - until you can no longer ignore just how greatly his touch has affected you; warm, wet and aching between your legs.

Taking his hands you briefly pull away, smiling as you stand from the sofa only to climb back on but astride his lap this time.

“Is this ok?” you check, placing his hands on your hips as you lower yourself onto his thighs. Your knickers are sodden they press against you but it’s not an unpleasant sensation, your core throbbing in time with your pulse with the need to be touched.

“Y-yes,” Namjoon utters softly just before your mouths meet again, a little more urgently now that you know your desires are reciprocated. Beneath where you sit you can feel Namjoon growing stiff inside his trousers and when you grind yourself down against him, he lets out a guttural groan of pleasure against your mouth. He grips your hips tighter as they circle, digging in his fingertips.

Without breaking your kiss, you remove your blouse, button by button until it slips off your shoulders and onto the floor. Namjoon’s hands don’t move, though, clutching at your denim-clad hips until you reach down and move them yourself, pressing warm palms to skin.

“You can touch me,” you assure, feeling his hesitation in the way his kiss loses rhythm and his thighs tense up. It’s only momentary, though. When your hands find their way back into his hair and you lean your chest against him, arching your back, Namjoon soon gets with the programme. His hands glide up and down the length of your back, one coming to rest on the back of your neck to anchor you in place. It’s only a gentle grip but it makes you shudder none the less, moaning as his tongue rolls wet and hot into your mouth.

Have you ever wanted someone as much as this? You doubt it. Certainly not at this point, when all you’ve done is kiss and grind. If he doesn’t touch you soon you feel as though you might lose your mind, but you don’t want to rush this. It means too much for that - for you to wish even a single second of it away.

You gasp as Namjoon’s mouth changes target and trails scorching hot kisses down the length of your neck, your head tipping to the side. You reach behind you to unclasp your bra, muttering curses when your fumbling hands can’t get the god damn thing open. Namjoon too distracting - the gentle pressure of his lips and swipe of his tongue too heavenly for you to even think straight.

Of course, you get it off eventually, throwing it the floor to join your blouse as you sit up straight and detach yourself from Namjoon’s torturous mouth. His eyes immediately fall to your chest, his jaw clenching and then Adam’s apple bobbing when you take the hands that’d be hovering at your waist and place them onto your breasts. With a salacious smile, you hold them there, groping yourself with his hands until Namjoon gets the hint and takes over, wetting his lips as the tips of his fingers find your nipples and he tweaks, sinfully sharp.

“Oh god,” you groan as your eyes fall closed, your hips automatically beginning to roll as his large hands squeeze and knead; pluck and pinch. And for the first time, you feel Namjoon start to push back, his pelvis rising off the sofa as he instinctively seeks your heat. “Do you wanna- hnng fuck-” He’s putting that mouth to good use again, one arm wrapped tight around your waist as he dips his head and slicks up your nipple with a lave of his tongue.

“Joon, let’s go to bed,” you say, running your fingers through his hair to get him to look up, far too doe-eyed for someone that still has his nipple caught between his teeth. “Only if you want to,” you quickly blurt out, sensing the slight hesitation that shows in his face as he pulls away - that nervousness and naivety.

In all your excitement, you’d almost forgotten how new all of this is to Namjoon. His people don’t even procreate, for god’s sake, and here you are trying to grind yourself down onto his dick like he’ll even know what to do with it.

You shift your weight out of self-consciousness and unintentionally brush against the bulge of his crotch as your move, biting your lip as Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed and his breathing becomes laboured.

“I do.” Namjoon’s voice is as tight as his grip on your thighs, and when he opens his eyes the rapid dilation of his pupils stirs your insides in excitement. “I really want to.”

“Ok,” you smile, climbing off his lap onto shaking legs and then taking his hands to pull bring him to his feet.

You love how tall he is; love how large he feels around you when you don’t even make it a step before he’s wrapping you in his arms and kissing you again, impatient. It’s you who finally has to pull away, pushing against his chest and then taking both his hands to lead him silent and smiling into your bedroom. Stood at the foot of the bed, you slowly lift his t-shirt till you can’t reach any further and Namjoon has to take over, laughing as he pulls it off the rest of the way and you grab it back, tossing it aside with a roguish grin.

He looks just as good topless as you remember, and you can’t resist the urge to step forward and show your appreciation for all that gorgeous skin with your mouth. Fingertips running his waist and down to his stomach, you smear wet kisses along his collarbones and then further south, loving the way his solid chest heaves up and down with the weight of his breaths. Down and down you go till you’re dropping to your knees and his belt buckle is in your face - an obstacle you make short work of in your impatience to continue the adoration of his flesh - and Namjoon is more happy to let you do just whatever you like. He runs his fingers through your hair with bated breath as you pull open his trousers and sigh at the sight of him so deliciously thick inside his boxers, pushing against the fabric.

“So big…” you hum happily as you worship, planting lingering kisses through cotton from the base of his shaft to the very tip. It twitches in response, already leaking pre-cum that stains light blue navy and tastes salty on your tongue. You push down his trousers as you work him over, feeling his buttocks clench as you hook the waistband of his boxers and then bring those down too, freeing his cock to bob tantalisingly in front of your face, begging to be touched and licked and sucked.

As you wrap your fist around the girthy base Namjoon’s knees actually buckle - his grip tightening on your hair with the broken moan he lets out, head tipping back. He’s not the biggest you’ve had but he’s sure as hell the thickest, swollen all the way from base to angry red tip, glossy with arousal.

You can’t wait to get a taste.

Pumping him slow, you squeeze out another drop and catch it with the tip your tongue, lapping it up and then dipping right into the slit in search for more - an action that has Namjoon near losing his mind, his eyes wide as he gazes down at you, panting hard. Holding his gaze, your brace your weight on his thighs as you take him into your mouth, focusing all your attention on the sensitive head until Namjoon’s practically whining with pleasure before taking him deeper, letting his hips instinctively buck his cock further down your throat.

You gag and Namjoon slurs out apologies, his knees shaking as he tries to pull back for of fear of hurting you, only to have you lunge forward and take it right back, sucking hard and fast and sloppy, gag reflex be damned.

“S-stop, stop, s-stop,” Namjoon chokes out after no more than what can only have been a few seconds, and when you let him slip from between your lips and look up, concerned, you almost expect him to have changed his mind - to have gotten cold feet at the very last minute.

Lucky, that couldn’t be further from the truth. As he tries to catch his breath, Namjoon pulls you to your feet, wiping away the saliva from your chin before crashing his mouth against yours. He picks you up, squeezing your ass in his palms for the few steps it takes for you to reach the bed that you’re then thrown onto, and you giggle when you realise he’d had his trousers around his ankles the whole way there, only kicking them off when he crawls onto the bed after you.

Sitting back on his heels, his eager eyes never leave you as you shuffle back against the pillows and rid yourself of your jeans and panties along the way too, pulling them down in one fell swoop. You beckon him into your arms, completely exposed yet somehow unshy, and Namjoon comes without any hesitation, mouths finding each other as he lies down by your side in a hurry to feel his skin on yours.

It catches you off guard to suddenly feel Namjoon’s hand on your thigh, lingering for little more than a second before reaching between your legs in search of your heat. His assertiveness isn’t unwelcome - anything but. As the tips of his fingers meet your wetness, slipping and sliding, you gasp and keen into his kiss, pelvis tilting. Wanting. Needing.

“I- I thought this wasn’t something you guys normally do,” you say as Namjoon begins to lavish love into the crook of your neck, nipping at your skin just as he zones in on your clit to make you moan again, grabbing at his bicep. Whether on purpose or by accident, you can’t tell, but either way, you’re not complaining.

“We don’t,” he replies the words blowing hot air across your wet skin to make you shiver, “But it’s amazing what you can learn online.” Your eyes ping open at his words, laughter spilling out of you when you look down and see Namjoon wearing a smile that’s unlike any of the others you’ve seen on him before. It’s devilish. Sinfull. And you love it.

The thought of Namjoon having thought about this before - to have wanted to do it so much that he’s researched how - arouses you more than you thought was possible, so wet now that you can feel it sliding down onto the bedsheets, smeared all over the inside of your thighs.

You’re about to say something more when a finger pressing into you robs you of the ability to speak in anything other than gasps and moans. Gradually gaining in speed, he slips that long digit back and forth, bolder every time, and whilst Namjoon’s technique isn’t exactly precise, what he lacks in finesse he more than makes up for in enthusiasm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he confesses as another of his fingers presses inside, stretching you open, “So beautiful,” but you can hardly hear him because the words are swallowed up by your desperate kiss and the moans that you’re making.

“Want you.” Those words are smushed too, barely heard, but Namjoon doesn’t fight you when you start to push on his chest to roll him onto his back and you climb on top. He looks up at you with nothing but adoration instead, his breath hitching when you take the hand that was between your legs and stick those fingers in your mouth, sucking them clean.

“Wow…” he murmurs, mouth gaping open but them firmly snapping shut when you lower yourself onto his stomach and begin to rub yourself up and down his cock where it lays leaking, coating it in your arousal.

“That feel good?” you ask, keeping that hand and linking your fingers where it rests on your hip as you rock back and forth.

“Mm,” he nods, lips pressed together tight and eyes screwed shut, “Warm.”

“Yeah?” You’re getting breathless too, jolts of pleasure shocking through you every time your clit catches against his tip, and god, you want it, but you want him to want it just as badly as you do before you give in. You want his first time to feel so good that he’ll never forget it, and everyone knows that anticipation is half the fun.

He groans your name, his chest rising heavily, and when he next opens his eyes you notice a bead of sweat running down from his brow, chest glistening with perspiration. Slipping his hand out of yours, Namjoon takes a hold of your hips and encourages you to rise, waiting until you’re supporting your weight to let go and grip the base of his cock to stand it up straight. Biting his lip with the effort it takes to hold back, he rubs the head between the lips of your cunt, flexing his pelvis up just enough to make you feel the delicious stretch and burn.

“Can… Can I?” You nod without a moment’s hesitation, leaning forward and bracing yourself with palms planted flat on his chest as you take a breath and start to lower your weight, slowly inching him in. Namjoon can’t take his eyes off where you’re joined, not until you’ve taken all of him in - moaning his name - and the pleasure gets so much that he’s forced to close them, breathing hard.

It feels so incredible, being with him like this; so close and so intimate. Even though you’re starting so slow, rocking your hips gently back and forth with your chest pressed to his, lips locked in an ending series of kisses, you can’t believe how good it feels just to have him inside.

His hands come to rest on your hips, encouraging the rolling motion of your body, and when you start to pick up pace Namjoon groans his appreciation into your mouth. The low, rumbling of his chest only spurs you on, and though you loathe leaving his mouth you sit up so you’ve more freedom to move - to ride him just as hard as you desire. Pressing your hands down on his where they lay on your hips, you grind your pelvis down onto his in figures of eight, and Namjoon is transfixed by the motion, his eyes following every circle while he licks and bites at his lips, hair sticking to his forehead.

“Can I… can I go faster?” you ask, already out of breath, and Namjoon nods just as quickly as you did earlier, eagerly tugging at your hips.

You never expected the quiet, thoughtful beneath you to be a vocal lover, and whilst he’s not a dirty talker Namjoon certainly doesn’t hold back in other ways, moaning loudly when you start to bounce up and down on his cock. Breasts bouncing, it feels so good that it’s a struggle to keep your eyes open, but you fight to make sure you do. You don’t want to miss a single expression of pleasure that crosses Namjoon’s face, trying to ingrain every second of this into your memory just in case you never get the chance again.

“A-ah!” you shout when Namjoon’s pelvis unexpectedly bucks up and drives his cock even deeper inside, and for a second he’s worried, body going completely still until gasping, you beg him to do it again. And again and again and again until you can feel yourself getting close and you can keep your eyes open no longer and you’re so close - so close - so cl-

Namjoon cries out your name, fingertips digging painfully into your hips from the force with which he drags you down onto his cock as he cums, incoherent with pleasure until the pulses die down and his body no longer twitches. His eyes open wide as he struggles to catch his breath, looking up at you as though he can’t quite understand what it was that just happened, and though you’re obviously disappointed you didn’t get to finish too you can’t help but laugh, leaning down to kiss him ever so sweet.

“Feels good, right?” you murmur against his lips, wishing you weren’t still throbbing so badly. Your cunt is begging you to keep moving - to at least grind your clit down onto his pubic bone until you’re able to meet your end - but you know Namjoon won’t be able to take it. Not so soon, at least.

“Amazing,” he sighs softly as you pull away. He looks entirely fucked out, his hair plastered to his forehead until you reach up to pull it back and plant a kiss there, too, overwhelmed with affection. “Can you… do that too?” he asks, so adorably nieve, and smiling you nod, resting your chin on your palm.

“Sometimes.” Namjoon considers you for a moment, a small crease forming between his brows.

“Not then?” For a second, you consider lying to him. It’s not as though Namjoon would know, but he’s not a prideful man that would take offence if you tell him the truth.

“No,” you say, “But that’s ok. No one lasts very long the first time.”

“But I should make you feel good too,” Namjoon frowns, and before you realise quite what’s happening you’re suddenly rolled off of Namjoon and onto your back and he’s hovering above you with purpose in his eyes - determined.

In the process of moving some of his cum has dripped out, coating your cunt, and for a moment Namjoon becomes distracted when he looks between your legs.

“I did this?” he murmurs quietly, running a fingertip through the mess he’s made until it makes you shiver, so sensitive that all the hairs on your arms stand on end. The sight of his cum oozing out of you seems to spark something in Namjoon - clenches his jaw tight - and with a newfound urgency he comes to hover above you, bracing his weight on one forearm whilst the other hand guides his cock inside your cunt.

You grab onto his shoulders as the engorged head breaches you, the rest soon to follow, and whine, holding on tight as Namjoon begins to move, rutting into you hard and fast and deep.

“Like this?” he pants out amongst the sound of skin slapping. “Tell me, show me how.” Blindly, you grab his hand and guide it between your legs, pressing his fingers to your clit in tight, quick circles that make everything feel ten times more intense, accelerating you to the brink of release faster than you ever thought was possible.

“Like this,” you gasp, letting go to let Namjoon take over and threading your fingers into his hair instead. He kisses you, hungrily, groaning when you pick your legs up from the bed and coil them around his waist so that he’s able to get even deeper - fuck you even harder.

“You feel so good.” His mouth travels to your neck, sucking sloppy kisses into your skin. “I never want to stop.”

“Me too - ahh-ah! - oh my god, Joon!” You’re reaching your end, eyes screwed up tight as every cell in your body begins to sing, swelling and throbbing and there’s so much heat, so much pressure that you can barely think straight.

“Show me,” Namjoon grunts, and you’re sure he’s getting close too if the way he’s gritting his teeth is any kind of sign. “Let me feel you.”

With Namjoon whispering praises into your ear, it only takes a few more seconds for you to get there. Crying out, it’s so intense it might feel as though you’re falling if it weren’t for Namjoon holding onto your shaking body so tight, falling with you less than a minute later as he cums again, driven over the edge by the feel of your cunt clenching over and over around him.

Panting, the two of you lie in an embrace as you recover. His body is sweaty and he’s heavy but you wouldn’t have it any other way, smiling in content as you gently trail your fingertips up and down his back.

Breaking the silence, Namjoon looks up with a tentative smile.

“Did I do it?” he asks, sweet and hopeful; smile growing when you laugh and begin to nod, affectionately patting his butt.

“You really did,” you confirm, and Namjoon continues smiling brightly even whilst the two of you set about cleaning up and getting comfortable again, side by side under the covers.

You don’t talk much - too busy smiling and gazing at one another to do anything else - but he sighs happily when you start to run your hands through his hair, knowing it likely won’t be long until he falls asleep. You’re almost getting there yourself when you suddenly feel something other than hair between your fingertips as you pull them away, opening your eyes in confusion.

“Joon, your hair...” you say softly, rousing him. “I mean… not your hair but…” Opening up your hand, you show Namjoon the petals that lie in your palm, small and soft. This is the first time you’ve ever seen them come loose, and you frown with worry as Namjoon combs his hands through his hair only to come away with more, scattering them across the pillow.

He sighs, a nervous look in his eyes when they next meet yours.

“I kind of-”

“Your eyes!” you exclaim, shifting closer and taking his face into our hands to look at each of them closer. “They’re not green anymore!”

And they’re not. Not at all. Not even hazel; no hint of green in sight amongst the deep chocolate brown his irises. They’re warm and soft - different and yet somehow familiar - and whilst you loved the startling green they were before, you love this colour all the more.

“Then it’s done,” he whispers to himself, and your frown deepens even further, confused.

“What’s done?” Namjoon hesitates, taking a deep breath before he speaks.

“When I told you that the changes that were happening to me were to help me… blend in more,” he says, sitting up and drawing his knees up, wrapping his arms long legs, “I wasn’t being completely honest.”

“What do you mean?” You sit up as well, uncaring that you’re exposed when they duvet falls and pools at your waist - too concerned that Namjoon might be about to tell you something awful, something that might break your heart.

“It’s not exactly… a temporary thing. When dryads are away from their trees for too long, or from others of their kind, then, eventually, they lose their powers. They become… human.”

You blink, incredulous, trying to process what has just been said.

“So you’re human now?” Namjoon nods, smiling sheepishly. Can this really be true? In the time you and Namjoon have spent together he’s told most of the dryad basics; that they have an affinity with flowers and fauna, that they’re grown, rather than born. That they’re... immortal.

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” you near shout, almost hysterical when you realise everything he’s given up by staying here with you - everything he’s lost. “How could you let me keep you here without saying anything?! If I’d have known I would’ve pushed you hard to find the others! If I’d have known I would’ve-”

“Exactly,” he interrupts, grabbing you by the shoulders and looking deep in your eyes. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. Because I never wanted to leave.” Namjoon takes advantage of you being lost for words, cupping your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss so full of feeling it not only steals your words but takes your breath away, too.

“But you-” Another kiss silences you, and when he pulls away Namjoon is smiling kindly.

“I don’t care.” His thumb brushes against your cheek and you lean into his touch, so confused by the conflicting emotions raging inside you. Happiness, regret. Love. “I would rather live one mortal life with you than be still stuck inside that tree, watching and wanting you from afar.” Namjoon kisses you again, his breath shaking when it ends and your foreheads remain pressed.

“I love you,” he confesses, and now it’s you that can’t stop kissing him, grabbing onto his face and smooshing your lips together with such force and fervour that it pushes him back down onto the bed.

“I love you too,” you gush between kisses, “So much, Joon. So much.”

And the two of you don’t talk too much again after that, too busy losing yourselves in each other’s bodies over again to want to speak - a perfect way to say I love you. You’re so happy it feels like a dream. Better than that, in fact, and as you start to drift off to sleep in Namjoon’s arms you can only hope what waits for you in your imagination is just as sweet.

#bts smut #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #rm x reader #rm smut #kim namjoon fluff #bts fluff #rm fluff #fantastical tales for curious souls #halloween collab #dryad!namjoon #namjoon x you #rm x you #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #namjoon x reader #any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!#I hope you like it <3

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ichigo-daifuku · 4 years

Text

Mammoney

Obey Me! Fanfiction [Read on AO3]

Mammon/Female!MC

After a series of incredible material and financial opportunities going in her favor, she finds herself questioning the root of her luck and what she did to deserve them all.

In the most ludicrous way possible, she is reminded that where money is involved, the Avatar of Greed is.

Explicit | Light D/S & Femdom, Mild Exhibitionism, Edging

Hello! This is my first Obey Me fanfic. It's a friends to lovers story with a mix of fluff and eventual smut. Enjoy♪〜

Word Count: ~10.7k

It began with a Grimm; a single coin that had gone unnoticed on the corridor.

The eternal darkness that enveloped the Devildom was one of its characteristics that caught her off guard when she arrived in this realm. She grew up to sunny mornings which was an impossibility here, but though the light was absent, the place was alive in its unique way. Often, she stopped and stared at the otherworldly surroundings, but today, it was the furthest thing in her mind as her rapid footsteps echoed across the hallways of the academy, in a rush to make it in time for Devildom Law. It was a class she shared with Mammon. The two of them would usually arrive in class together, but right now, she ran alone. She had slept in, and after letting him copy her homework, yet again, Mammon didn’t even bother to wake her. Although her stomach rumbled due to skipping breakfast, she continued her ascent to the staircase without a pause, her legs threatening to give out, but her mind winning over her body as she kept going through sheer willpower. Humans were looked down enough in the world of demons. She wanted to prove to everyone that whatever the beings here were worthy of, humans were worthy of as well. With this mindset, she ran, and finally, she was on the floor where the class would be conducted.

Everything was going her way until she took a wrong step.

She felt it, a round object protruding on the plane of the floor, right under her sole. Her foot slipped back while her body lurched forward as she lost her balance. For a second, a comical scene of a character slipping on a banana peel in a cartoon flashed in her memory, and she fell face-first on the floor with a thud. The object she stepped on flew a distance away with resounding clinks. She groaned, shifting her body to a sitting position as she glanced around. No one was around to witness her clumsiness but the paintings on the walls, and she supposed that was one good thing she could be grateful for. She dusted her hands and was about to do the same to her uniform when the sound of her name being called made her head turn to the other direction.

A frantic Asmodeus rushed to her side. “Are you alright?”

“Hey, Asmo. I’m fine,” she reassured him and moved to stand.

Asmodeus bent down and outstretched his hand. “Here, let me help you up.”

“Thanks.” She took him up on his offer and stood, letting go once she regained her balance. “Are you running late for class, too?”

“Something like that,” Asmodeus replied, a mysterious smile lighting up his face. It made her concerned about where his hand, which she had just touched, had been before this. “What happened to you?”

“Oh, that. I tripped over something.” She turned around and craned her head until the golden contrast against the monotone floors caught her attention. With her unsteady legs, she shuffled to its direction and bent down to pick it up.

A Grimm.

How strange. She would have noticed—no, she should have. There was nothing on the floor, she swore, but there it was, the Grimm, solid and real in her hand. She wiped the coin on her skirt and examined it. Her eyes might have lied to her, but what was done was done, she had nothing to do but discard the thought and focus on more significant matters.

The chime of the clock signaled the beginning of class. She was late. Between her fingers, the skull embedded on the obverse stared back, smiling, as if it was mocking her for failing her goal of achieving a perfect record. She recited the text in the header of the Attendance Card in her head: The Royal Academy of Diavolo is glad to commend you for prompt attendance and good work in the Devildom. Prompt attendance. She contemplated whether it would be better to skip class altogether or have all heads turn her way and be reprimanded for coming late.

“A Grimm?” Asmodeus, who had come closer, asked.

“Apparently.”

“It’s not every day someone finds money in a random place. It might be a good omen, who knows?” Asmodeus said and grimaced, remembering the state he found her in. “You sure you’re okay, though? You aren’t injured, are you? I’d hate it if a wound ends up scarring your beautiful skin because I wasn’t able to get here earlier. Oh, no...”

Asmodeus scanned her from head to toe with genuine concern, taking her wrist with a gentle touch and checking her hands for any scratches and injuries.

“I’m okay, really—”

“Hey! Whaddaya think you’re doin’, huh? Watch where those dirty hands are touchin’, Asmo... or better yet, keep your dirty hands to yourself!” Mammon exclaimed as he appeared by the stairs. His hair was a mess, his uniform was untucked as always but more disheveled than usual, and his tie was undone. He crouched down with his hands on his knees as he panted from the exhaustion of running over to the academy in record time.

That took her by surprise. All this time, she had thought Mammon had left without her, but it turned out he had slept in as well. In reality, she was the one who left him behind, and the pang of guilt turned her bad day worse.

Asmodeus let her wrists go and spun around to shoot Mammon an icy glare. “Excuse me? Dirty?!”

“Yeah! Ya heard me!”

“How dare you, you scum. If anyone here is dirty, it’s you!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever ya say.” Mammon rushed to her side and grabbed her hand. “We’re runnin’ late, let’s go.”

“What are you saying? We’re already late, Mammon.”

“And we’re gonna be even later if we don’t run faster. Come on or else Lucifer’s never gonna let us hear the end of it.”

Mammon was right. She hadn’t thought of that. A late attendance in class would entail a lecture from Lucifer, but a complete absence without a valid reason would warrant an even longer lecture and a possible punishment. The last time she and Mammon got into trouble, Lucifer talked their ears off all night and assigned them on kitchen duty for two weeks. She shuddered at the thought.

“Oh, no. I am not going to go through that again. See you later, Asmo!” She waved goodbye and let herself be dragged by Mammon to class, making a mental note to sneak a text in her D.D.D. later to thank him for his concern and apologize they had to leave in a rush.

For now, she made sure to wrap her fingers around the Grimm she picked up, not wanting to lose it, while her other hand grasped onto Mammon just as tightly, not wanting to be left behind.

“Hey,” she called once they were in front of the closed doors of the classroom. “Face this way, Mammon.”

“Hm?” He turned to her, confused, and backed away when she stepped closer to take his tie. “H-Hey! What’re ya doin’?!”

“Shh! They’re going to think we were... up to no good if you come in like that,” she stated. With Mammon paralyzed by self-consciousness, she took the opportunity to fix his tie, her fingers deft with the task from learning how to do her own every day. “Sorry about leaving you. I thought you already went to the academy... without me.”

“If I did that, Lucifer will hang me upside down again. You’re under my care, remember?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said and froze. They were standing at such proximity that she could hear his heavy breaths and feel their heat on her cheek. With adrenaline in her veins, she glanced at him and found his intense gaze boring on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His cheeks flushed, and he averted his eyes. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

Right, she thought as she adjusted the knot on his tie. There was nothing she could do about the rumpled state of his clothes, but it was an improvement. “There. Let’s go.”

All heads turned their way the moment they opened the door, and as she expected, the teacher reprimanded them for their late attendance as they took their seats. But with Mammon to show up with her and share half of the brunt of the unwanted attention, it wasn’t as bad as she expected it would be.

Saturday came. As an apology for leaving him behind the other day, she wanted to invite Mammon to go around town, do a bunch of random stuff, eat at Hell's Kitchen—anything at all; her treat. With Mammon, everything ended up being enjoyable, and she would bet anything he wouldn’t turn down a chance to hang out and not have to spend a single coin. However, his seat remained empty during breakfast. After learning her lesson that he might have slept in, she knocked on his room to check on him but received no answer. She tried a few more times before resorting to turning the knob, which, surprisingly, was unlocked.

“Mammon? Are you here?” she called as she peeked inside.

The room was a chaotic mess, much like its owner. Fancy boxes of designer clothing were littered all over the floor, the tissues used to cushion the products strewn around them. A flurry of envelopes, which she suspected were bills Mammon had to pay, laid on the sofa. The most recent issue of Devil Style published by Majolish in which Mammon graced the front cover was opened on the coffee table, a few empty instant noodle cups next to it. The first area she searched for was his bed, and she was right; he had indeed slept in and was there. But the scene that awaited her made her eyes widen and her hand fly over her mouth on reflex.

His sheets were pure white, a contrast to the sinful form right in the middle of it all. Mammon dozed off, his whole facial expression carefree, his mouth hanging open as he snored lightly. A fluffy pillow under his head, his hair was tousled and messy, a few shades darker than the fabric it splayed on. A blanket covered his bottom half, but the rest of his lean, muscular body was bare. Sans the wings, he looked like an angel from a classical painting, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he had once looked like before he had fallen; what kind of wings he had, if a halo once had a place over his head. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a considerable amount of his skin, but the reality of the situation made her heartbeat accelerate and sent blood rushing to her cheeks: Mammon laid in front of her in his sleeping glory, possibly wearing nothing under the sheets.

“You… idiot… human…” Mammon groaned and mumbled something that sounded a lot like her name.

With the subsequent panic brought by the thought that Mammon had woken up, she staggered backward, her eyes darting around his room in search of a place to hide. To her unbelievable luck, he merely shifted his position and rolled onto his back, still asleep. Typical Mammon; even in his dreams, he was calling her an ‘idiot’ and ‘human’, but the fact that she starred in his dreams flattered her, she had to admit. He continued to mumble incoherently, his blanket still hung dangerously low, a slight movement from him and...

For once, she had to agree that she was an idiotic human. It was dangerous to lurk around this place. The longer she stayed, the higher the chances of him actually waking up and catching her red-handed. She raced to the door, avoiding the clutter on the way and thankfully succeeding. The click of the lock let her breathe a sigh of relief, and she had to fan her face with a hand to calm herself. No one was around the corridor which was a blessing on her end. She wouldn’t know how to explain what happened.

Like a second version of Leviathan, she fled the scene and shut herself inside her room for the rest of the day, ensuring she had as minimal contact as possible with the outside world. She entertained herself by watching an anime Leviathan recommended, her D.D.D. set aside and unattended. The image of Mammon earlier would sneak inside her mind from time to time, and it was enough to make her flustered all over again. It was pure insanity, she admonished herself for being so ruffled about it.

The whole day passed, no one disturbed her, and she didn’t see Mammon at all.

On Sunday morning, having convinced herself to brush the incident off, she sent Mammon a message and asked him what he was up to, intent on pursuing the original plan yesterday before the... unexpected occurred. He replied a few minutes later with another detailed scheme he was cooking up to pay off a portion of his debt to the witches. She was skeptical of it, but she sent him words of encouragement and hoped for the best. It would be nice if he wasn’t being chased by his debtors 24/7, but since she arrived at the Devildom, the name 'Mammon' and the word 'debt' had always been mutually inclusive. The house was quiet, and she had to admit, it felt lonely without him around.

In her bedroom, the desk was filled with things she collected in this world as time passed by, like her RAD identification card which she hung on her corkboard and the photo booth souvenirs she got during Spirit Week alongside it. The lamp illuminated the text of A Synopsis of Primitive Magical Theory, a book Satan lent to her last week. The hardbound cover was unlike anything she had seen before, with symbols she has yet to learn about inscribed on them. It was an old book—ancient, even—that was a rare find even in the Devildom. She suspected Satan had spells cast on it to retain its pristine condition.

As she read a few chapters and reached the end of a passage about curses, she flipped the page and was taken aback by what she saw: a Demon Voucher, shiny and crisp, lodged in the middle of the pages. The Grim Reaper, a contrast of black against the bright yellow, stared back at her as if she was being haunted and fetched for the afterlife—which was a silly thought to have; she was already living in the Devildom. The voucher looked new. She concluded it was Satan’s, and he must have misplaced them. With that, she set it aside and planned to mention it to him later when they would see each other during lunch or dinner.

She thought that was the end of it, but when she flipped the next page, another voucher awaited her. It was odd. She tapped her index finger at the bottom of the page, a ludicrous thought running inside her head. There was no way that what she was thinking was true, and she flipped the page in anticipation, only to be proven that her guess was correct: another voucher.

A hundred times she flipped the pages of the book, a hundred Grim Reapers stared back at her from each sheet of the Demon Vouchers.

Were those already there beforehand? Or did the Primitive Magical Theory this book was about had something to do with what was happening? Unable to ignore the confusion that plagued her mind, she shut the book and stacked the vouchers together, deciding to approach its owner about it.

On the way to Satan’s room, she came across Lucifer in the corridor of the House of Lamentation. As they approached each other from opposite directions, she smiled politely at him in greeting. No matter how much she crossed her fingers that Lucifer hadn't heard about her and Mammon’s late attendance the other day, the chances of it happening in real life were low. Still, he hasn’t had a chat with either of them about it...

“Not with Mammon today?” Lucifer asked once they were a few steps away from each other.

She laughed nervously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You two have been inseparable as of late, don’t you think so?” He spotted the book in her hand. “A Synopsis of Primitive Magical Theory? An excellent title.”

“It’s Satan’s.”

“Well then, carry on. I have a meeting with Diavolo and must be on my way as well.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice.

Minutes later, she stood in front of Satan’s door and knocked. “It’s me.”

There was shuffling inside, and the door swung open with a creak. Satan greeted, “Not with Mammon today?”

“Huh? Not you, too!”

“Just kidding. Come in.” He laughed and ushered her inside, gesturing to the book in her hand. “Have you finished reading it? What do you think?”

“Not yet, but I am halfway through,” she replied. “That’s not what I came here for, though. I’m here because I found these vouchers in the pages, I think you misplaced them as a bookmark… maybe? And you might want to use them, so here they are…”

He shook his head. “Those aren’t mine. I have a lot of bookmarks.”

“Well, there are a hundred of these here." She waved the stack of vouchers in her other hand to emphasize her point. "Please give me a spoiler: is this the ‘Primitive Magic’ the book is talking about?”

“I can assure you, it’s not. I’ve read the book a ton of times, and nothing like that has ever happened to me.”

“Whose are these, then? Maybe the one who borrowed it before me?’

“You’re the first one I lent it to.”

“But I…” She was rendered speechless by what she has learned. If these weren’t his or hers, then where did they come from?

“Say, are any strange things happening to you lately?” Satan asked, a cryptic smile making his gentle features unnerving.

She stared back at him with suspicion. “The Devildom is a whole new world to me, so something strange always happens, of course. At least, they are strange to me.”

“Ah, that is correct.” He nodded and folded his fingers together. “But if I may give you a piece of advice? Remember the things you were told on your first day here. They may lead you to a rather surprising conclusion.”

“I see… Remember the things I was told on my first day here…"

Satan's eyes glinted with mischief. He knew something she didn’t, she was sure. Before she could ponder over his word of advice, all traces of mystery vanished from his face as he suggested excitedly, “Why don’t you use those vouchers and treat yourself? Finders keepers!”

She spent the night tossing and turning with recollections of the recent events in her mind. When she picked up that Grimm in the corridor the other day, Asmodeus had said that it might have been a good omen. If that was true, she wondered if the forces surrounding her were the cause of the things happening to her or if there was something or someone else behind them. It was the last thing in her mind before she drifted to sleep and dreamed about gold coins raining down from the sky.

The next day, she went to a mall on the way home after class, intent on getting rid of the vouchers in the best way possible: by using them.

Mammon would be proud, she thought. She wondered what he would do if a hundred vouchers appeared in front of him, and concluded he’d drool over them as Beelzebub would to a cheeseburger. The thought alone was hilarious. It wasn’t as if she was spending them all for herself; she was off to do so for the ones who she couldn’t imagine her stay in the Devildom without. Despite the odd way she acquired the vouchers, she decided to make the most out of them as Satan suggested and take the opportunity to show her appreciation to the seven brothers.

Luckily for her, the mall she went to had a selection of items from the human world, and she decided she would gift them things she was familiar with and had meaning to her. First, she looked for five titles of human books she enjoyed for Satan; all in the mystery genre. His thirst for knowledge made them the perfect choice for him, and as a thoughtful demon, he would appreciate her recommendations. Besides, the reason she had this kind of opportunity was because of the book he lent her; five books as a gift for him didn’t seem like enough. A stack of records caught her eye, and she knew it would suit Lucifer right away. She chose one which she considered was a hidden gem in her world. Asmodeus has always been curious about a particular perfume she sometimes wore, the one which had soft, sweet, and flowery notes in it, and so she included the largest bottle of that in her purchases. For Leviathan, a rare and newly released Ruri-chan figure with bunny ears that she hoped he didn’t have yet—if that was even possible. She picked up the ingredients for the special recipe of cheeseburger she planned to cook for Beelzebub, and a sushi pillow and a sleeping eye mask for Belphegor.

As for Mammon… Well, what would Mammon like?

The answer was easy: money… and instant noodles in hell-sauce flavor, he liked that, too.

She frowned, strolling along the aisles with a cart full of her selected gifts. Instant noodles were too simple of a present, but she also didn’t feel like giving him the vouchers and letting him spend those for himself. It would defeat the purpose of her gifting him something. She racked her brains for something else Mammon enjoyed and came up with an idea. Excited, she rummaged through her bag for her D.D.D. and gave him a call.

He answered on the first ring. “Yooooo! THE Mammon speakin’.”

“Wanna watch TSL tonight?”

“Wh...?! What's that all of a sudden? I-I mean I’m busy… but I guess I can spare some time if it means a marathon of TSL. It’s not because I wanna watch with you in your room! It’s not that, okay?!”

She laughed. “Okay, then. See you later.”

A box set of The Tale of the Seven Lords Full Series DVD for Mammon it was.

Despite Mammon telling her that he would be coming not because he wanted to watch with her, she knew he did. He was obvious in that way, and she would have to be blind for her not to notice how different he acted when it came to her. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was always adamant in denying everything, and though she found herself charmed, they were only going in circles and nowhere at this rate.

With everyone checked off her list, she pushed her cart to the nearest check-out and stood in the queue. The cashier greeted her a good afternoon and scanned her items. After seeing the total amount, she grabbed her purse to prepare her payment until the cashier, as well as the other staff, clapped their hands and said in unison, “Congratulations!”

“Huh?!”

The cashier shook her hand. “Again, congratulations, miss! You are now getting all of these items and more for FREE!”

“H-Hold on, there must be a mistake. I know that I’m a human, but I have money, too! I even have a debit card… and a bunch of vouchers! See?”

“Of course, of course... However, it isn’t that at all.” the cashier replied. “You are officially our 666th customer of the 6th month of the year! As a prize, you are entitled to our best deal, which is getting everything in your cart for free, absolutely no charges.”

“What in hell’s name…”

“Oh, and here is your Lucky 666 Card! Enjoy a 99.9% discount on your birthday! Just sign your name over the dotted line… There we go… Thank you for your continued patronage!”

She stared blankly at the sleek black card with three letters, bold and holographic, in the middle: VIP.

She sat in her room in a comfortable position, her head leaning over the sofa’s backrest, a pillow on her lap. She hasn’t seen Mammon since they parted after Devildom Law this morning. He had to do something for his debt again, this time another shoot for a clothing brand’s spread in Devil Style, and she was glad she was able to contact him earlier despite his busy schedule. He promised he was going to be present tonight, but it was almost time for their TSL marathon. Mammon hasn’t arrived yet. Did he forget?

Her bedroom door swung open. Mammon stood there, a huge bowl of popcorn in his arm, and cried out, “You didn’t tell me these two were goin’ to be here, too!”

“Oh… Hey, Mammon…”

“Beel...?! Doncha have a kitchen to raid or somethin’?”

“Movie night means popcorn,” Beelzebub replied with the happiest smile, taking the popcorn Mammon brought and filling his mouth with it the next second.

Leviathan inserted the disc of TSL Volume 1 in the DVD player. “Mammon thought she wanted to ask him on a date. How embarrassing! ROFLMAOOO XDDD!”

She chuckled at that, guiltily. In truth, she did want to ask Mammon to have a TSL marathon with her—and only her—tonight. Even someone as dense as Mammon would get a hint that she was into him… or was she giving him too much credit? Nonetheless, Beelzebub and Leviathan came knocking on her door, somehow having heard about their plans. They were very enthusiastic about tonight’s TSL marathon, she couldn’t deny them. It was too late now.

“Shut up, Levi! What’re ya doin’ here, anyway?” Mammon asked.

“It’s TSL Night. Of course, the #1 TSL fan should be present.” Leviathan turned to her and nodded in approval. “I have to say, you have excellent taste. The Ruri-chan figure you gave me is now in its rightful shrine in my room, so thanks… Plus, a limited edition TSL box set as another choice of gift? Such a shame it would be wasted on stupid Mammon, though… What a normie...”

“Grr… Whatever. I’m sitting here.” Mammon plopped down on the spot beside her and took up the majority of the space by stretching his arms and legs, the fabric of his jacket brushing with her bare arm as he settled in. She could get a whiff of that expensive perfume he liked and spent so much on. It was a familiar and comforting scent she associated with him.

“There goes Mammon again, hogging her all to himself.” Leviathan shook his head but otherwise sat on an individual seat like Beelzebub and helped himself with popcorn. “Should we invite Belphie? Where is he, anyway?”

Beelzebub replied, “He’s asleep.”

“Nevermind, then.”

Instead of keeping her eyes on the opening scene of the first episode, she found herself watching Mammon. His hair, which she was no stranger to touching since she would rub his head often, was messy as always but in a good way. It suited him. Every time he blinked, the light and long lashes that framed his eyes emphasized the movement. Her gaze moved down, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his lips moved as he yelled at Beelzebub not to forget to bring them drinks from the kitchen on the way—them being him and her and not Leviathan. Mammon spoke freely, most of the time tactlessly, and though there were instances when he would say what was the opposite of what was in his mind, everyone who truly knew him would always be able to read between the lines.

“Hm? What’re ya lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Nothing,” she lied and gave him a small smile. “Is that a new earring you’re wearing?”

“Oh, ya noticed? Pretty neat, huh? Got it for a great price, too!” he enthused, brushing aside the hair that covered his ears so she could have a good look.

He proceeded to tell her the amount he spent on his new jewelry, which was indeed a great price, but not necessarily a great deal. She shook her head with a laugh. Up to the simplest things, Mammon would always be Mammon.

“It’s The Lord of Fools and Geldie! Oh, no... I can’t do this again, not anymore…” Mammon sobbed as soon as it was time for the ‘most tragic scene of all time’, although he had already cried over it the last time they had a TSL marathon. His sniffling earned teasing remarks from the three of them. Leviathan cheered when the Lord of Shadow and Henry did their legendary high five. Meanwhile, Beelzebub finished twenty bowls of popcorn, his eyes glued to the screen as well.

As the ending credits for Volume 5 rolled, her eyelids, which had been feeling heavy since the previous episode, gave in and fluttered closed. Her tiredness from school and her subsequent shopping trip began to catch up to her, and she could do nothing to fight it any longer.

“I’m so hungry...” Beelzebub’s stomach growled like an angry monster. He grabbed the empty bowl of popcorn and left the room the next second, on the way to raid the refrigerator.

“Bye… Beel…”

“Ah, I’ll never get tired of that.” Leviathan stretched his arms and legs. His D.D.D. rang, a song she didn’t recognize as his ringtone. He read the message, shot up from his seat, and exclaimed, “Oooooh! An emergency raid notification in Mononoke Land! Volume 6 tomorrow. Same time, same place. Leviachan, over and out.”

“See you… tomorrow… Levi…”

“D'aaah! H-Hey! Whaddya think you’re doin’?!” Mammon protested when she ended up leaning on his shoulder.

She wanted to tell him she was sleepy, but before she could, she had already succumbed and drifted off.

A pillow cushioned her head, and her blanket covered her body fully and protected her from the chill. It was silent save for the ticking of the clock that indicated it was three in the morning, a time which she would have been spooked to wake in if she was still in the human world. The television has been turned off, and the events earlier replayed in her mind: they were having a TSL marathon, and in the middle of it, she fell asleep. She recalled Beelzebub and Leviathan leaving. Mammon must have been the one to tuck her in bed. The thought made her heart soar, and she decided she would thank him later. For now, she would have sweet dreams for sure. Intent on continuing her slumber, she shifted her position to the side when the subsequent rustle of papers made her freeze.

Wary, her hand left the comfort of the blanket, and she reached out and dipped her fingers onto the bedsheet, her touch light but enough for her to feel a rectangular sheet of paper. Certain incidents from the past few days struck an unbelievable possibility in her mind. With a trembling hand, she brought the paper closer to her face. It was a bill—not the kind of bill Mammon possessed and received frequently—this was money; a hundred percent cold hard cash. She sat up, the astounding sight making all traces of sleep leave her body. Around her, the bed was littered with bills in various denominations. They were placed as if someone had thrown them haphazardly but avoided her form, the corners having the most amount in the most literal sense.

She stepped out of the bed with her eyes shut, rubbing them with the back of her hand and convincing herself they were deceiving her. However, the familiar feeling of something beneath her feet was enough for her to know that the probability of her being wrong was low. When she opened her eyes, the bills remained. Piles of Grimm stacked side by side with giant yellow gemstones, jewelry, and gold bars rested at the foot of the bed and all over the carpet. This wasn’t a petty amount of cash one could produce in a snap, and she believed there was no way someone was doing this to play a prank on her. She picked up a gold bar with one hand and a gemstone in another, its sizable weight and sparkle leaving her to the conclusion that none of these items were counterfeit, certainly not something to be trifled with. Her fingers growing limp, the gold bar and gemstone fell to the carpet, neither dented nor broken.

At first, it was the Grimm on the corridor, and then the Demon Vouchers. She received expensive items for free and became a VIP in a mall, and now this, items only treasure chests were known for appearing beside her as she slept.

It terrified her.

At a loss, she distanced herself from the collection of treasures and called the first name that came inside her mind, “Mammon!”

She was aware it was futile. It was the middle of the night. He would be deep in his sleep and wouldn’t hear her. But to her absolute surprise and relief, the door swung open within a minute. Mammon was the one behind it, looking like he threw the first articles of clothing he could get his hands on, a rumpled plain black shirt and pinstripe pajama bottoms, barefoot.

“Hey… What’s the big idea callin’ me in the middle of the night—” he had begun to fire his tirade of complaints but paused upon seeing her distress. Worry etched on his face as he strode to her side. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know! What are all these? Why is this happening?”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her lightly. “What’re ya talking about? Are ya in danger? Tell me!”

She assumed Mammon would see it—smell it, even—the moment he walked in, yet he failed to notice. She gestured behind him and said, “See for yourself.”

Mammon spun around and yelped. Every single one of the various treasures shined brighter under the scrutiny of their gazes. Speechless, he ambled over to the foot of her bed, picked up a coin, and rolled it across his knuckles, uncharacteristically quiet.

Minutes went by, and she was unable to take the silence any longer. “I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s been like this since I tripped on that Grimm. It’s like I’m being haunted by the ghost of the Grimm or something.”

Her words remained unheard as Mammon threw the coin with a snap, absentminded. It landed neither on its head or tails but on its side, toppling over the nearest stack of Grimm and creating a domino effect to the one next to it. He rubbed his chin and began to mumble unintelligibly to himself.

Mammon was acting strangely.

She crossed her arms and observed, suspicious. She expected him to rejoice at the huge amount of money in his reach, try to pocket them, or talk her into breaking the gemstones into fragments and profiting from them. The ultimate form of temptation for Mammon laid in front of him, yet there he was, lost in thought. “You know something.”

Mammon finally heard her words. He turned her way slowly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Tell me,” she said.

“No way! I dunno anythin’.” He tried to play it cool, yet she saw right through him; from the way a thin sheen of sweat had covered his face to the way his throat bobbed as he gulped, his gaze landing anywhere but her—he was alarmed.

“Don’t lie.”

He stood and backed away, all the while laughing nervously. “Well… it might be because of me…”

It was true that Mammon was the last one who was with her in this room before this, as far as she knew, but it was also no secret that he constantly had an empty wallet and piggy bank—even his credit card was frozen once again by Lucifer. Always without a spare change to his name, he was indebted to beings both mortal and supernatural. Was he saying that he had a stash of funds in secret?

“Because of you? What do you mean?”

“You know… Haha...”

“I don’t, actually.” She crossed her arms and gave him a heated look. “Explain, Mammon.”

“D’aaah! Okay, okay!” He scratched the back of his neck, a blush coloring his cheeks, hesitant. “Uh… Satan already told ya what happens when… the Avatar of Greed… takes a liking to someone, didn’t he?”

So, it was something Satan said… When she thought it over, Satan’s advice from last time echoed inside her mind: something she was told on her first day in the Devildom.

It all clicked.

Her first day had been a whirlwind, but one fateful occurrence was her meeting with the brothers, one of them being Mammon. The words Satan said as he introduced him rang in absolute clarity in her mind:

“Mammon here is the Avatar of Greed. He governs and oversees all forms of it. Whenever he takes a liking to someone, they suddenly find themselves awash in money. But from what I hear, if he decides to break it off with someone, that wealth evaporates. They’re left without a Grimm to their name.”

Mammon has taken a liking to her.

Mammon, the student council member assigned to be her caretaker. He has done his task in the most Mammon way possible since day one. When troubles came, his self-preservation won most of the time, but she couldn’t blame him. For some reason, he would still be the one who ended up in trouble with Lucifer, and it all worked out at the end of the day, always.

Mammon, the demon who claimed he wasn’t terrified of horror movies and would watch them to prove his point and fail. It made her and his brothers laugh every single time. She would insist on switching into an action, drama, or romantic comedy film, knowing he was partial to those genres and would be overcome with emotions other than fear. He would end up enjoying movie nights he dreaded.

Mammon, the ‘best bud’ she could talk and laugh with about the craziest things, the partner in crime she never had in the world she was born in. Her self-proclaimed ‘first guy’ who tried his best to deny everything, but wore his heart on his sleeve for everyone to take notice. He was far from perfect, but he was unapologetically himself, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

Mammon, the one who was in front of her now, peering over her face from afar with worry, as if she mattered more than the mountain of material treasures behind him.

Mammon has taken a liking to her, and it wasn’t mere liking.

“Do you love me, Mammon?” She took a step closer to him, wanting nothing but the truth.

He tried to step further away, but the back of his legs met the bed. “Wh…What?!”

“Answer me.”

“Uh… I guess ya ain’t bad for a human..."

“No. Honestly.”

He didn’t freeze, but he did stop fidgeting. She couldn’t tell if it was the power of the pact or the honesty the moment warranted that worked over Mammon as his shoulders slumped in defeat and answered, “Yes.”

The ticking of the clock has never been this loud. He finally admitted it. After all the stolen glances and hidden affections they had harbored toward each other for the longest time, he managed to be honest not only with himself but also to her. This changed things, and she could cry because she has waited for this moment in what seemed like an eternity.

“Listen here, and listen good! I’m not a regular demon, y’know! I’m The Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed, one of Devildom’s elite… It should be an honor! But you… you didn’t even give me a reply…” he said, his final sentence dripping with hurt and self-pity.

It was her turn to be honest; she couldn’t have him getting the wrong idea, especially when he had taken a risk to confess his true feelings. She rushed and threw her arms around him, making them fall to the bed and a few bills fly to the floor. “Stupid Mammon. I love you, too.”

“Wh…? Really? Did I hear that right? You’re not joking, are ya?” He cradled her face in his hands and sought her eyes for answers, his own wide in a mixture of disbelief and hope.

She leaned down until her lips brushed his. “Yes, you heard it right, and no, I’m not joking. I love you.”

He broke into a smile, overjoyed, and in a second, closed the gap between them in a kiss, one she was ready for, and she welcomed and reciprocated. It was gentle in all the ways imaginable, tinged with uncertainty as the reality of it all has yet to sink in. Before she knew it, it was over too soon.

“You can’t take it back!” Mammon exclaimed once they parted. He has never looked happier, and she always wanted to see him like this.

“I have no plans to.” She brushed her fingertips along his cheek.

“Good. ‘Cause I love ya.”

There they were, the exact words she had been waiting for.

Mammon gazed at her with fondness, a special look that he only had for her. His palm slid to the back of her neck, testing the idea of another kiss which she was more than happy to grant him, the passion she had pent inside her waiting to be released. As her tongue readily slid past his parted lips and met his, he embraced her and moved them into a sitting position. She followed in perfect synchrony, straddling his lap comfortably as she carded her fingers through his hair and pulled lightly, the two of them reluctant to break the kiss. Their initial shyness gone, Mammon’s touch on her waist grew firmer as the kisses turned deeper. His hands wandered to the curve of her hips, and on instinct, she shifted her hips forward to press herself closer to him. She succeeded, the space between their bodies now close to none, but that single movement from her also made her aware of his raging arousal. The heat between her legs made her mind go hazy with the extent of her own need for him, and it filled her mind with possibilities of where this could go.

Hesitant fingers teased the hem of her blouse and brushed over the exposed skin on her lower back. Mammon leaned back, his lips swollen and alluring, and murmured, “H-Hey, hold up a sec, are ya sure about this?”

It made her happy that he asked. Rough around the edges as he was, he cared for her so much. She was so in love with him. “Of course. I mean, are you?”

He pressed open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder, nipping and sucking at the skin on her neck until his lips caressed the shell of her ear. The warmth of his breath emphasized the weight of the words he whispered, “You’re mine now.”

It sent a thrill down her spine. She liked the sound of that, even more, because it meant that he was hers in the same way. Back then, she chided herself for letting her mind wander, but being surrounded by Mammon, an embodiment of a sin himself and the one she struggled to conceal her feelings for, made it difficult to brush those thoughts aside. How he’d feel like, how he’d taste, how he’d hold her—she’d imagined it all. Sometimes, she wondered if he was the same. Did he see her face, imagine her bare body, when he touched himself?

A passing glance over the bed reminded her of the current situation they were in. She let out a teasing laugh. “Is this your fantasy, Mammon? You and me… on a bed full of money? Or is there something else?”

“Shut up…” he replied, not sounding in denial at the least. He buried his face on her neck, his breath tickling her skin as he inhaled her scent.

“Either way, it won’t take long. I’ll know soon enough.” She would, maybe not tonight, but they had all the time in the world. Once she figured them out, the two of them would take delight in each one of those fantasies.

Tentatively, she ground her hips against him and leaned for another fierce kiss. Despite the fabric of their pajamas serving as a barrier between their bodies, it was thin enough that even the slightest movement created enough friction in the right places. He let out grunts of approval against her lips and soon met every grind of her hips with his own. Underneath her, she felt the hardening outline of his length, every press leaving her dizzy with the scorching desire for more. She could reach her peak simply by doing this, yet her mind swirled with other ideas. She broke the kiss and shifted her legs so she could stand.

“Where are ya goin’?” Mammon protested, reaching out to take her back in his arms once her unsteady feet toppled over the stack of treasures and touched the carpet.

“Relax,” she assured, a seductive smile gracing her lips. “Undress me.”

“O-Okay…” He gulped and stuttered to say more but failed.

Her heart raced as she took his hands in hers, placed them on her shoulders, and slid them down, pausing to give special attention to her breasts before guiding him to the spot where the first button of her blouse rested. Mammon was stunned, but in the blink of an eye, he regained whatever was left of his composure and took matters into his own hands. He undid the buttons one by one, taking all the time in the world, his lustful eyes trained on every inch of her skin that was revealed to him as he went further. When he reached the last one, she shrugged the fabric off her shoulders and discarded it on the floor. The cool temperature of the room nipped at her skin, but she paid it no mind. Gingerly, he tugged at the garter of her pajama pants before he drew the fabric down, and without a word, she stepped out of them and turned around. His nervous fingers traced the curve of her spine and fumbled to unhook her bra. After a couple of seconds, he succeeded, but she didn’t wait for him and slid her panties off herself, the sharp intake of breath behind her unmistakable the moment she bent down and gave him a full view of her damp entrance. She faced the shocked, blushing mess on her bed that was Mammon, and basked in the boost of confidence given to her by the reality that she was the cause of his arousal as he was the sole reason for hers.

“How about we make this more exciting?” She stepped closer to him and reached for the hem of his shirt.

Mammon obliged at once, discarding it on the floor with her clothes. “Huh? Whaddya mean by that?”

She took a moment to appreciate his toned body before stripping his trousers and undergarments off. Their bodies both bared for the other to see, she returned to her rightful place on his lap while gesturing over to the mysterious collection of treasures around them, “Everything around us on the line if we finish this without you touching me.”

Though flustered and blushing, her statement distracted him and piqued his interest. “All of it? I mean, what’s this all about? Are ya bein’ serious right now?”

“Of course, I am. Think about it, all this money for you to spend, Mammon! Your wallet will never be lonely again… or at least, it won’t be for a while.”

“What’s in it for you, though?”

“Well… nothing, to be honest. Victory, maybe?”

“Lame. That’s the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard from someone makin’ a bet.”

Despite the lack of intrigue his words implied, the look on his face told her that he was considering it. Money was involved, after all. His nature as the Avatar of Greed would make it difficult for him to resist. She wasn’t bluffing; should he be able to do it, she would fulfill her end of the bargain.

“But don’t you like that you’ll be in advantage here? Easy money, right?” She tipped his chin with her index finger. “Don’t tell me… you can’t handle it?”

“Grr… Deal.”

“That’s the answer I was hoping for.”

“Just don’t come cryin’ to me after I win.”

“We’ll see about that.” He was fooling no one. He wouldn’t want her crying to anyone but him if she did end up in tears. Still, she was positive there was no need for any of that. As insane as it sounded, both the prospect of her winning and losing heightened her anticipation. “Now… where were we?”

“We were gettin’ to the good part.”

“Hm, isn’t that right.”

Her fingers brushed along the seam of his lips, coaxing them to open and let her slip them inside. Mammon’s pupils were dilated as his warm tongue swirled around her index and middle fingers almost on reflex and made sure not to miss the space between them. Pleased, she pulled her digits away, the sound of the final suck he gave them sending a thrill to her core, and rewarded him with a peck on the lips. She braced herself with her other hand on his shoulder, shifting her knees in a position that allowed her to settle his legs between them. Coyly, she gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, gauging his reaction as she reached down and let her fingers work their way to the slick heat between her legs.

Her salacious mind raced with thoughts of Mammon as she slipped her fingers inside her. He looked so handsome with desire etched on his face—from his frustrated eyebrows to his pouted lips—that she felt as if she was on fire under the intensity of his gaze. He was tense, torn on focusing on her face or on the carnal movements her fingers were doing to herself. A deal was a deal; he could do nothing but clench his jaw and ball his fists to restrain himself, unable to touch her though he was dying to…

It was all too much for her.

“Mammon…!” she whimpered his name right before his very eyes. Her head fell back at the sensation of her climax, her lips parted by the moans she didn’t bother stifling. She shut her eyes as the feeling ebbed, hyper-aware of the sweat that had begun to coat her skin, and limped against his body, her cheek resting on his shoulder.

“W-What about m-me?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t touch yourself,” she pointed out slyly, leaning back to face him again, “but since your self-control is commendable, I can do it for you… if you want me to?”

“Yes…” he responded shamelessly.

It made her smile. That was another honest moment for him, but she supposed desperate times called for desperate measures. Her fingers, coated in her wetness, slipped between their bodies and closed around his shaft lightly, making his eyes flutter shut at the sweet sensation. At the groan elicited by her first touch, she wasted no time in moving her fist up and down, acquainting herself with the feel of him and leaving him swallowing hard and gasping for breath. The grunts that came out of his mouth spurred her to continue her ministrations, but seeing him like this reminded her of something.

“You know, I went to your room one time. You were sleeping,” she confessed, her tone downplaying the effect the sight of him had on her, her hand never missing a second in pleasuring him.

His eyes flew open in alarm. Unable to think straight, he grit out, “Wh…huh? Don’t tell me you saw… everythin’ while I was… asleep…?”

She chuckled. He was unsettled over the fact that she found out he slept naked when he was all bared in front of her now, her hand still stroking him. It was endearingly Mammon to be that way. She leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “No, I didn’t see everything.”

“I only saw you from here...” with her other hand, she brushed her fingertips from his shoulder, the path accentuated by the edge of her nail, down to the lines on his abdomen, “until here.”

“R-Really?”

“Yes. This is the first time I’m seeing you like this, all of you.”

He let out another moan in response, his shaft now completely rigid inside her fist.

She pushed him down on the bed by his shoulder. The mattress bounced at their weight and sent bills flying to the floor, reminding her of the bet she proposed but had almost forgotten. Breathless, she aligned her body over his but paused at the last second to meet his expectant gaze. “Remember, no touching.”

“Yeah, I know. You don’t need to remind me—”

His retort was cut off when she began to descend and take him inch by inch, both of them groaning in unison the moment she buried him until the hilt. Still sensitive from her previous climax, she clenched around him and took time to adjust to his size, her hands splayed on his abdomen for support as she shivered and delighted in the relief of having her yearning filled.

Mammon squirmed underneath her and whined, “I-Is that it...? You’re just gonna do that… and I dunno... sit there…?”

“Shut up, Mammon.” She shot him a glare, or at least tried to, she was too addled with pleasure to know if she succeeded.

To Mammon’s credit, he hasn’t touched her.

She moved languidly, unsheathing him and pausing before sinking fully once again. Her hips moved forward and back in search of the perfect angle that further evoked frenzied reactions from him. The control she had over the pace and being able to call the shots—something about those sent a thrill inside her. Sweat began to drip down her skin, and it didn’t take long for her to set the rhythm and bounce up and down on his length, burying him inside her again and again. Mammon let out a string of expletives at the pleasure that took over his body, his toes curling and his tight fists clenching at the pink bedsheet. He couldn’t touch her, but he needed to hold onto something—anything—that could save him from falling off the brink of insanity.

Soon, she felt it; he was close. Mammon let out unabashed moans and curses and chanted her name so loudly his voice filled every corner of the room. A glance to the door, which she was unsure if Mammon had locked earlier or not, awakened her mind of the possibilities of the two of them getting caught and barged on. She unsheathed him again, but this time, halted her movements. “Keep it down, or I won’t let you.”

His hips moved on instinct, meeting her halfway in desperation for more but to no avail. She had shifted back, out of reach as he was unable to touch her if he wanted to win the bet. Mammon’s breaths came out in huffs as he came down from his high, so close yet not enough, the frustration lacing his words as he rasped, “You’re evil…”

“Am I? That sounds like something I should be telling you, though. I’m just a human, after all,” she reminded him with a chuckle.

“My human.”

In silence, she concurred. She adjusted her position and took his entire length once more, starting relentlessly to drive him to the edge one more time, only to stop at the last second when his voice rose, making him lose his momentum.

Mammon shut his eyes and grit his teeth, pulling at the sheets. “I… I’m goin’ crazy…!”

“You are?”

“Can’t… Can’t ya see—”

She sank on him again and took him in one fluid motion, rolling her hips back and forth against him mercilessly.

“I can’t do this… I need to touch ya… ”

“How greedy of you, Mammon.” Even in terms of her attention, he has always been a greedy one; making sure he would be the one to do things for her when his brothers gave her the slightest bit of attention. She has a strong feeling that he would be the same when it came to her affection now, but it would pose no problem on her end because, for all she cared, he could have every last bit of it. “You’ll lose, though. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t care anymore, dammit.”

And so, Mammon lost the bet.

Impulsively, he reached behind her head and bent her down so he could kiss her again, his tongue tasting hers clumsily but very eagerly. All worries of them possibly getting caught flew out the window. She propped herself with her hands on the mattress with ease, the majority of her weight supported by his body. His lips moved down to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, until he could give equal attention to her breasts, cupping them with his palms before settling on the curves of her hips, grunting as he thrust inside her in a swift motion.

This time, she was the one who had to bite back a moan. Mammon had been holding back. At the rapid succession of his thrusts, she was reminded of how physically strong he was beyond her human capability. Back arched, she tried her best to match his rhythm until both their movements turned erratic. The heat built up in her lower abdomen, and she reached her peak once again, aware the moment he trembled underneath her and followed. Amid the waves of pleasure, her eyes fluttered open, wanting nothing but to watch as he came undone and found him gazing at her in the same way through gritted teeth. Every pulsation inside her and the warmth of his release left her dizzy, but through dazed eyes, she didn’t dare look away from him and took everything he had to give.

Mammon embraced her as he panted and leaned his forehead against the curve of her neck, gratified, still caught up in the haze of pleasure.

“You lost,” she reminded, her fingers threading along his soft locks as she hugged him back and dropped a gentle kiss on his cheek.

For some reason, Mammon’s chest rumbled with laughter. Despite not knowing what was so amusing about the situation they were in, his laughter, as always, was contagious. She couldn’t help it and ended up laughing as well.

She hummed to the tune of one of the songs in the TSL soundtrack as she brushed her hair after a late-night—or better yet, very early morning—bath. Already dressed in her uniform, she set the brush down and finished the rest of her routine. Classes were bound to begin in three hours; she couldn’t risk sleeping, not waking up on time, and coming in late again. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could sleep after the most eventful hours of her life. She spun around, her eyes landing on the cause of the incredible incidents that had happened to her, her favorite creature out of all the existing realms.

Like her, Mammon was also in his uniform, his yellow tie in a perfect knot as she was the one who had done it for him. He was hanging out in her room and stacking the money that had appeared because he was the Avatar of Greed on the table. As terrible as he was in mathematics, everything was a different matter when the skull of the Grimm was involved; he audited the money, the possible prices of the gemstones, jewelry, and gold bars in a notebook like a professional. His eyebrows were knit and his lips were in a thin line in concentration; a rare look on him. She watched from afar with a smile.

“So, about all this money,” he began and gestured to her direction with his pen. “Ya better do somethin’ about ‘em because they’re gonna keep comin’, I’m tellin’ ya.”

He wasn’t about to stop his affections for her anytime soon, that was what he meant, so it entailed material and financial opportunities would have the sky as its limit.

Truth to be told, she didn’t have the slightest clue on what she would do with them and had been pondering about the matter since she stepped in the bath. All of it wouldn’t have appeared if not because of Mammon, and as he said, there would be more coming her way soon. She voiced out her idea nonchalantly, “Hm… I think I’ll use these to pay your debt.”

His pen, which has been gliding across the paper, halted. Mammon regarded her with utter surprise. “Huh? Y-You will?”

“You don’t like the idea?”

“Who said I didn’t like the idea? No one!” He left his computations aside and strode to her, taking her hands in his without a warning, hopeful. “You’ll really help me? Your first guy? The demon you love?

His words reminded her of their intimate moments earlier and the dull ache between her legs. Flustered at Mammon’s audacity, her cheeks turned red. They had only been together for hours, yet he was already this arrogant, but it wasn’t as if anything he had said was a lie either. She pulled her hands away and crossed her arms. “If you’re nice to me, I might.”

Unfazed, Mammon grinned and put an arm around her shoulders. “Why, of course, I am, and I will always be. Whaddya think, huh?”

“I’m not kidding, Mammon. I don’t want random witches chasing after my boyfriend,” she said and shifted her body to the side to meet his wide-eyed gaze with her serious one.

“B-B-Boyfriend?!”

“Why do you look so surprised? Isn’t that what you are to me?”

“I-I mean… Yeah, I guess you can count on THE Great Mammon to be your b-boyfriend, haha… I mean, I’m an awesome boyfriend, right? The best?”

“Hm, maybe...”

“Aw, maaan.”

It was no secret: Mammon was a sucker for compliments, even more so when they came from her. While it seemed silly, she knew how it felt; a compliment from Mammon would make her day no matter what the circumstances were. He looked downcast, frowning, and that was all it took for her to give in. She embraced him by the waist and murmured on his chest, “Of course, you are.”

In a span of a night, a lot of things had changed; the commitment she made with Mammon, the first demon she forged a pact with in the Devildom, was now in a whole new level, a connection unlike any she shared with the others, their bond worth an amount no money could buy. Still, it didn’t feel as if many things were different. Mammon was still Mammon while she was still herself; both of them an indispensable part of each other’s lives.

“Hey, you think I can win the lottery tomorrow?” she lifted her head and asked but was reminded that though it was dark, it was already morning, and it was going to be time for breakfast soon. “I mean, later?”

His eyes shined brighter than all of the various treasures he had counted combined. “Wanna find out?”

It was surreal to think that everything began with a single Grimm, and yet with Mammon leaning down to kiss her again, there was no doubt of it; she ended up hitting the jackpot.

Ka-ching! 🤑💰

If you made it this far, thank you so much for giving this story a chance. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Your feedback would be greatly appreciated 〜 💛

Obey Me! Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#obey me #obey me mammon #obey me!#obey me! mammon #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me fic #shall we date #shall we date obey me #Mammoney

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 4 years

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Horikoshi: This will probably not be super popular, but it’ll be fun!

Us: Oh, well that sounds nice!

Us, 290 chapters later: This Isn’t Fun Anymore Horikoshi

Horikoshi: :)

Anyways, welcome to the beginning of - hopefully - a long term and engaging project. I am basically aware of all of canon, and am up to date with the manga, but I haven’t actually read from the beginning of the series, and I’ve only watched the series up to the Deku v Todo fight in the sports festival. However, I’ve been curious as to how the manga portrays stuff that I’ve seen in anime gif form, and so I figured, hey, make this a project!

If you have questions or anything, the ask box is open for now. Meanwhile, I am going to head into the first chapter proper!

[No. 1 - Izuku Midoriya: Origin]

Wow, you’d almost think this kid would grow up to be a villain or something, with that kind of attitude, huh? No way that this kind of attitude would ever come to bite him in the ass and force him to reevaluate his entire character and kickstart his character development.

(Before you say anything, I like Katsuki as a character, but DAMN did he have to do a lot of growing up. I suppose when one is at the bottom, the only way to go is up… unless you have a pickaxe.)

One thing I actually noticed right away, and I dunno how much it’s used in other manga (seeing as I currently am not reading any other manga and the last ones I read were… a long while ago…) is the shape of the text boxes in order to convey emotion! It’s actually hella neat and a little detail I wouldn’t think about adding if I were in his position (not that I can draw all that well, but that’s not my point). You can practically hear the warbling in Izuku’s tone and the rougher edges in Katsuki’s!

(Also, question for the English sub while we’re at it, why the fuck does Katsuki sound like he’s a goddamned adult when he’s fourteen. What the fuck.)

Interesting little thing here, Katsuki not actually using his quirk here against Izuku; his hand is trailing smoke from his explosion, but it’s not a direct burn wound. Not that he should be doing this at all, but with the number of fics I see where Katsuki literally gives Izuku second or third degree burns, I think this is a reminder that canon Katsuki has some modicum of restraint, even this early.

Before I forget, hello winged kid who definitely has no plot significance whatsoever. No siree.

(If you are new to the manga/show and are reading this as among your first introductions to the fandom, first off, I am so sorry. Secondly, expect me to be… definitely making a lot of sarcastic quips to things in the future.)

Onto the second/third page, which is supposed to be a full spread, but is split up into two pages on the online reading site. RIP, but I will not complain about free access to the whole manga.

Lookit this green bean. I love him so much. I can’t wait for him to suffer.

Izuku: wait, what?

Anyways, a few things to note:

Who the fuck is this guy? I looked into the wiki but he apparently doesn’t warrant a page or even a mention as one of the background faces of the series, but look at that fucking claw, man! And those boots and jets! He’s very obviously themed after a baseball catcher, so I’m going to guess that he has some kind of quirk that deals with either drawing projectiles to him, or perhaps in throwing projectiles… in either case, it’d be something like Snipe’s quirk, so maybe this is his less howdy-happy sibling.

Oh right, the chapter. The other heroes we see on the scene in this two-page spread are Death Arms, Air Jet, and Kamui Woods.

Also, something I want to point out that I’m sure others have but just struck me while looking at this spread - multiple people are recording / taking pictures of this. I wonder if part of the reason for the villain industry to be as strong as it is is because the villains, even if they know they’ll lose, still get their own sort of fame in being in the news? That… might explain a lot about how there can be enough villains to even run an entire damn industry.

(Well, that and a lot of sociopolitical commentary on BNHA society, but we don’t need to get into that now. Maybe wait two hundred or so chapters first.)

Not gonna lie, I had to double take because I was like ‘wait, what is Ochako doing here?’ but then I realized it was just a random civilian; she doesn’t have those side bangs Ochako does. But now I almost wonder what sort of world we could have had, if they’d met a bit earlier.

Onto the fifth page (fourth is just a filler page, nothing on it), and we get treated to this gem:

Tag yourself I’m the guy who’s slackjawed because his kid is fucking glowing.

The first four examples of quirks shown in this flashback are the luminescence, telekinesis, ice, and that flame-headed(?) mutation. Of them, we actually see hints to the fact that quirks have drawbacks, as the girl with ice is drawn with the same frostbite backlash as Shouto, while the flame-headed kid is… well, I have no idea, but they do not look to be happy.

Also, I love the nod Hori does to the heroes of our era as silhouettes! This is just more evidence to me, along with the fact that the first quirked kid is born and presented in a modern hospital, that this series takes place sometime in the future. I… even calculated the years it could technically be, based on information we get in a few chapters, but I’ll save that for then.

Onto the sixth page! A nice shot of Kamui Woods getting into position, and man is that giant quirk unnerving.

What the fuck is with those feet, Hori. Those aren’t feet.

Next we see how the crowds are reacting, basically with no panic or concern. One guy is just casually letting his boss know he’ll be getting in late. And Backdraft! That is some serious water manipulation, but it seems like it has to be the water they’re in contact with? Also, is it just me or is that a portable pressure hose on their back?

And of course, Izuku being excited over hero stuff, as one does. He’s so babey faced, going back to current chapters after this is gonna be fucking wild.

Onto the seventh page, and here we are with the ‘you’re pure evil’ speech to someone who’s… just a robber. Seriously, dude? I get that you’re still fairly new to the scene (I think he might not be from a hero high school, but a late join program, but that’s another post), but like. You can’t just call random people ‘pure evil’ and correlate petty crime with like, actual mass murderers, or else people might start to see things in black and white and, you know, create the idea of ‘villainous people’ and so push even more innocents down the path of desperation and criminality.

Wait, sociopolitics later. Izuku being a hero fanboy now. Even able to utter Kamui’s attack call as he’s calling it out, with some seriously cool visual effects-

And on the eighth page, we have Mt. Lady crash the scene. Literally. She just fucking shows up outta nowhere and fucking leaps up and delivers a kick right to the villain’s chin, throwing him back through the train bridge wall and sending debris down to the ground below. Sure hope there weren’t civilians there!

Also, hello to that random guy on the roof watching this. I think in Smash they made that guy her manager or something.

I love how Izuku and the other guy are like ‘what the fuck’ while the press just shows up out of nowhere and is like. Hyperfocused on her. (I’ve heard some issues with the portrayal of media/reporters in the series, but since I have no experience with that sort of thing, I can’t say much on it.)

The last panel of this page shows that, fortunately, there were no civilians on that part of the street (even though it being rush hour and the huge crowds on the other side of the bridge should have suggested otherwise… but what do I know?)

With page nine, we get to see our first case of villain apprehension, which to note does not include any sort of quirk suppressors. Because those don’t exist. Otherwise Aizawa and the Eight Precepts’ erasure bullets would not be such huge deals to everyone. I mean yikes, though, the guy is fucking muzzled. And you can see the damage done by Mt. Lady in the background, both physical and emotional. Not to mention…

What the fuck is that face.

But yeah, this notes that performance in heroics determines not only what they’re paid by the government, but also how much fame they get. No way a system like this could backfire in any capacity, right? Right? (cough).

I love how Hori uses Izuku’s muttering habit as the border for the text bubble when the kid zones into his little world. Also, gigantification is noted to be a common and strong quirk, so we really should see more OCs with size altering quirks in fics in the future, you hear me? Honestly, with it being common, I would almost expect there to be entire buildings, or maybe even neighborhoods / blocks dedicated to catering to size shifters… wonder what those places look like.

Also aww, the guy saying good luck on the heroics dream to Izuku and Izuku just sparkling. What a cutie. Can’t wait for him to suffer. :D

Izuku: No seriously, what-

Anyways, I’m cutting off here since we then transition into the next ‘scene’ and this is a long chapter - 55 pages! Besides, this has already surpassed 1700 words, I don’t need to ramble on too long in one post.

Lemme know what you think, and I’ll be back with more soon!

#opening arcs #chapter 1 #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #kamui woods #mt lady #1800 words and only nine pages #buckle in this is gonna be a long project folks

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eternalcantarella · 4 years

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Entropy - Chapter 1: Siege - Joker/Reader

Entropy

Summary: We all seek for some measure of uncertainty. Working against the mob is a dangerous game, you might as well be signing a death warrant. You would think it was all by a stroke of chance, the multiple run-ins with Gotham’s Jester of Genocide. When crooks begin to make more sense than do-gooders ― that’s anarchy. He’s no ordinary crook, however. And he’s still wrong. At least that’s what you'd like to tell yourself.

Word count: 10.4k

A/N: First entry, just felt like contributing something to the Joker fandom. This fic is multi-chaptered, and the main pairing in this is Joker/Reader. TDK/Ledger Joker specifically. We follow the story of our reader who is a junior data analyst working in the corporate world, trying to expose Lau for the fraud he is. Of course, meddling with the dichotomy of lawful good and evil would naturally lead to her butting heads with the Joker sooner or later. Somewhere along the way, she is left questioning the validity of her moral code and ends up trading answers with the Joker himself. The goal, of course, is to prove each other wrong. I didn't feel like creating another original character, so I used John Blake from TDKR for her colleague. Apologies for the non-canon compliance regarding John Blake. Rated T for now, but will probably be escalated in future. Gonna be pretty slow burn with build-up, if you're into that. Enjoy!

Available to read on AO3! Check my blog description for link to my AO3.

###

“That is why I propose that we continue this joint venture between Lau Security Investments Holdings and Gotham Press Holdings.”

The lone presenter clasped his hands together, ending off his presentation.

“I firmly believe that it is in both our best interests to do so, and it is what’s best for business.”

Reservedly, a light smattering of applause pulsated through the board executive room. You looked pointedly towards the man to your right, typing furiously into his laptop. Chewing your rose-stained lips while you collected your thoughts, you knocked a pen absently against your coffee cup. Subdued murmurs and discussions could be heard as a low rumble across the room, not long before the presenter opened the floor up for a question and answer segment. Multiple hands shot up, competing for the attention of the corporate powerhouse.

The room smelled a mixture of two distinct smells, cologne and freshly ground coffee. You recalled that you had silently muttered a ‘thank you’ to no one in particular earlier this morning, when you found out the ancient coffee maker had been replaced. Perhaps the company was lucky enough to have bosses who listen to their employees’ caffeine needs and have no problem shelling out for a new and improved machine. The room was painted a bluish gray from top to bottom, with tall glass windows teetering on the edge of an unhindered view of Gotham City.

You sat round a large conference table with people whose suits probably cost more than your monthly rent. Board meeting perhaps would be the right name. Dress shoes, egos, no smiles that weren’t plastered on, or opinions unfiltered enough to contribute anything significant to the discussion. A conglomeration of people who almost deliberately attempt to create the most monotonous environment and experience for working possible.

“Eight percent annual growth, huh. A little too good to be true.”

You craned your head towards the young man beside you while maintaining your gaze on the data projections presented on your laptop screen. You received a hum of assent in response to your subdued remark. The sound of his dry hands rubbing contemplatively against his chin accompanied afterwards. The tapping of your pen got harsher and more deliberate, as you narrowed your gaze on the lone presenter, none other than the founder of Lau Holdings himself.

The data simply did not make sense. Even with the vast economic expansion of China, the numbers seemed at least a little bit inflated. Your hand tensed as you shifted forward in your seat, smoothing out your blue pencil skirt. Your partner seemed to have caught sight of this. His hand darted to press over yours in a flash. Slightly startled, you flashed him a look of annoyance.

“Now listen, we’re not here to change anyone’s minds, calm down.”

Seemingly easy-going, his soft words still conveyed an undertone of warning. Indignancy blossomed in your chest as you clenched your jaw shut. Your findings and suspicion over the past months were almost in fruition. How dare he tell you how to do your job. You gave one last defiant glare at your coworker and then whipped your head around, zoning your focus in towards Lau. You raised your other hand and caught Lau’s gaze, as he gestured an open palm towards you.

You regarded each other coldly, his eyes devoid of any signs of sincerity save for an icy smile for the sake of pleasantries. As you stood up, you could see from the corner of your eyes that your partner had so kindly sank back in his chair defeated, resting his elbows on the table with his head in his hands. A little too melodramatic for your tastes, even for someone like you.

“Thank you CEO Lau for the wonderful speech. I’m going to cut to the chase and raise an issue here. Frankly speaking, your powerful economic potential, while surely enticing to keep working with, is a little concerning.”

Lau’s smile showed cracks in its facade. Perhaps this was an unexpected little wrench in his plan. Somehow you took victory and pride in gaining a reaction, no matter how small, out of a cold and calculative man of his calibre, and it took all your will and strength to maintain a stoic composure without your lips curling into a slight smirk.

“Surely your company had to have had a hefty tax levied on this revenue you’ve raked in. Not to mention, upon further assessment it seems that Wayne Enterprises has yet to conclusively accept your business proposal to them. Not to throw insult to your endeavours, but is this as promising, or stable, as you make it out to be?”

Perhaps you are assimilating to become one of them, the beautiful people, what you called them. Perhaps you had let your ego show a little bit too much. But you’d be damned if you didn’t feel badass standing up to a multinational company giant like this, in front of other multinational company giants. It’s not every day you let an opportunity like this be passed.

You felt a collective shift of heads as you suddenly felt about ten pairs of eyes lock onto you, but it felt like ten thousand. Under the magnifying glasses of scrutiny, you felt like you were encapsulated in a glass display as you were studied and picked apart by higher forms of life. You were an alien. An alien who spoke a language they refused to understand and come to accept. A pregnant silence fell over the room and the stares were too much. It was as if they had a morbid fascination with you, patronisingly waiting to watch you fail. Incredulous smiles of pity and disbelief that they failed to hide were spotted on a few in the crowd and you felt the dread pool in your stomach. You tried to maintain the puff of your chest but your fidgets merely deflated it, as you kept your gaze straight on the presenter, unable to look him in the eye.

You could see a visible twitch of his neck as you stared at his grey dress suit, straining a smile on his face. His breath had seemingly gotten heavier and he tongued the side of his mouth, clasping his hands together. He cleared his throat, and only then had you mustered the courage to look him again in the eye. Subtle shades of malice roamed dangerously behind his onyx eyes.

“I will say this once and once alone. We are undoubtedly a legitimate business. And I will not stand for anyone questioning the integrity of my establishment.”

This was a threat. No doubt. You felt hot and humiliated, and nothing beats being shamed in front of the board of directors, speaking of whom, shared panicked glances shifting between each other before one of them dismissed the meeting. It was a walk of shame as you and your partner were singled out by a hand gesture to the front of the room, while everyone sashayed past you, their glances lingering far longer on you two than what was necessary, with the CEO of Gotham Press Holdings watching you reproachfully. A reprimanding was in order, you supposed. CEO Lau had been escorted out of the executive meeting room by other directors in hopes of coaxing him to calm down. You and your partner you’ve unintentionally dragged through the mud stilled in front of the man in control, CEO Loeb.

“Did I hire you to do something so incredibly stupid? For God’s sake you two are here to take care of our financial transactions and fill up board meeting spaces. Nothing more.”

The bite was stinging. It felt like you had been slapped across the face. The welling of tears could be felt behind your eyes but you refused to let them show. You stared at your chief executive officer’s forehead, with shallow lines that ran horizontally across them. His brows which resembled caterpillars were furrowed deeply as he found it difficult to find the right words to say to you without uttering a string of expletives, which you admittedly did deserve. You buried your gaze deep into his crown of white hair as a form of distraction and you hoped dearly that he would show just a shred of mercy.

“Financial Consultant Blake, I hope you understand your place and educate your little Junior Data Analyst lady friend.”

Your coworker clenched his fists and nodded.

“You young people always have an inflated sense of self-importance. Keep your mouths shut next time and this is the last warning. Keep treading on thin ice, both of you.”

With that, he stormed off, leaving you and your partner. The chestnut-haired man, at a loss for words, shifted his weight and looked at you. He tried to say something, but refrained from doing so upon seeing your pathetic state of emotions. You desperately tried to keep it all together, the rage of indignancy staining a crimson tint on your face and embarrassed mortification flushed against your neck hotly.

“Listen, John…”

He looked down and placed a hand on your shoulder, an obligatory act of comfort towards you despite feeling quite frustrated himself. Tears beaded at the corners of your eyes as you blinked them away. You will not cry. You were a strong woman. A mantra you meditated whenever you felt the urge to break down.

“I’m, uhm, just really sorry. Really sorry that I dragged you into this. I... I’m just so goddamned naive and selfish. And I don’t know why, but I just-”

You took a deep breath and shut your eyes, before reopening them, willing the constricting feeling back down your chest.

“I just felt the need to prove something.”

He let out a huge sigh and pat his hand two times soothingly on your shoulder. As if to tell you it was okay, but he was still mad. He brought his other hand to his temples and closed his eyes. His jaw shifted around absently, possibly to ease the tension that was there from clenching it too tightly. There was really nothing much he could say to you. After all, he did warn you, but he was nice enough not to say ‘I told you so’.

After getting the apology off your chest, the humiliation subsided slowly like a beach wave into a dull headache. You took your hand to his wrist and squeezed the top of it reassuringly, to let him know you would be okay eventually. He took this as a sign for you both to take your leave, away from the sterile walls of the meeting room that seemed to cave in on you.

As you turned round the corner of the large glass doors of the meeting room, you nearly bumped into the CEO of Lau Security Investment Holdings. It had seemed that he had left something behind in the room. You were face to face with him, widening your eyes and noting to yourself that he was a man of short stature. There was a brief moment where time seemed to slow down around the two of you and you two were the only ones on this plane of existence. There was nothing but a look of disdain on his face. A subtle twist and contortion of his face, the corner of his lips tightened and raised on one side of his face. His eyes were devoid of any spirit, seeming to look through you instead of looking at you. Nothing but pure unadulterated disrespect and contempt for you. Small and worthless you were, this was your standing in this world of beautiful people. You were fundamentally different from all of them. Fundamentally loathsome.

And you’d be damned if you didn’t confront this head on.

You hardened your gaze with eyes of defiance with lips suggesting the hint of a snarl. Something about the look he gave you re-ignited the flame within you snuffed by shame, and it showed through your eyes.

And just like that time sped up for you, and you were thrown back into the normalcy of the rush of office life. John Blake watched you and let out an audible groan.

“You really don’t know when to give in do you, kid?”

While visibly frustrated, a little smirk played at his lips, clearly amused at you and the turn of events in spite of himself.

“Always bursting in, castle crashing like the siege engine incarnate you are.”

Clicking your tongue in annoyance at this long-time God awful nickname bestowed upon you by none other, you hastened your speed with strong strides, having done nothing but prove that nickname to be characteristic of you today. He kept up the pace, noting to himself that you had gotten over yourself and more or less returned back to normal. You took the meeting card from today out of your pocket and bent it, snapped it into two halves and discarded them into the bin you walked past. You needed to forget this incident. Clipboard and laptop hooked onto an arm, you prodded at your updo then pulled at the hem of your white blazer. Gussying did help ground you back to reality in providing you with a sense of unfounded control.

“We aren’t going to take this lightly. We need to get to the bottom of this. Lau一Lau is going to ruin this place.”

Alarmed, John Blake grabbed your shoulder and wrenched your form to face him, stopping you in your tracks. He stared at your eyes scanning and darting his eyes around your face for any signs of whether you were serious or not. It dawned on him that dear god, you weren’t kidding at all. Before he could start on his tirade that the two of you couldn’t even dream of changing how things worked in this company, or the world for that matter, you shrugged yourself off his grip.

“Don’t you forget why you teamed up with me, John.” You raised your voice slightly.

“Don’t forget the reason you launched Blake Accounting Consultancy. Need I remind you of what you believe in?”

Jarred by your emotional declaration, he knew what you said were mere rhetorics. He noticed people were starting to stare at the commotion between the two of you, thus he resumed a slow walking pace with you. You kept observing his internal dilemma, noting the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, and how his perpetually furrowed brows deepened even more. You needed his help. And he needed yours. As your walking speed hastened back to normal, the people at the reception area took fleeting glances at your gait but never longer than needed. You took a short glimpse at your watch and signed out of the register with Blake.

The self-assured clacking of the heels on your pumps down the descent of the stone steps, marking the entrance of the imperial office building, was a pleasant familiarity to you, as it signaled the end of an exhausting work day. It was especially empowering on a Friday, such as this one. At the base of the steps you awaited his answer. Clearing his throat and adjusting his tie, he stepped onto the same level as you.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me. There’s no point in doing this,” he pointed between the two of you, “And our arrangement if we don’t do it right. You are my partner after all and you’re here to keep me from losing sight of what’s important. To the both of us.”

You smiled and felt the warmth blushing across your cheeks. Yes, he had hand picked you for this job and he was so confident you were the right one. You restrained your smile to revert back to a professional feminine composure and tilted your head coyly.

“Then I don’t need to tell you why we’re doing it the right way, do I?”

“For hope in the goodness of Gotham. This generation’s gotta do some cleaning up after our very thoughtful predecessors.”

The crinkle in his eye after he spoke was all the reassurance you needed. After being given a satisfactory answer, you gave him a knowing look and turned away from him as he began tapping hurriedly into his tablet. As undignified as John Blake could appear to be at times, you had to hand it to the man. He was worthy of your respect and had been nothing but an inspiration to you. The two of you shared more things in common than most and provided each other an intellectual challenge. Of course, mostly one thing was considered upon deciding on this mutually beneficial partnership in business. And it wasn’t because you two were sleeping with each other, despite common belief. Before you began walking again, you asked.

“What do you reckon our plan would be right now?”

Still fiddling with his tablet, he stalled on his answer for a few seconds. Clearly mapping something out in his head, you turned back to give him your full attention.

“We’re heading to Gotham National Bank. Let’s just say, there’s been minor speculation that it’s been involved in activities not short of... illicit. Yes, I suppose that’s how we’ll put it.”

He treaded carefully.

“Now, the companies we work for, both Gotham Press Holdings and Lau Holdings, have some shares in this bank. The catch is, it would be incredibly difficult to prove Lau’s activities as fraudulent.”

Seemingly defeated, Blake hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck. However, he peeked his eyes at the building in front of him, a smugness quirking at the corner of his lips.

“Fortunately for us, they didn’t call me a forensic accountant for nothing.”

Beaming at him, you grabbed at his forearm shaking it a few times, giddiness bubbling inside of you, before letting it go. For you, there was nothing but a mischievous glee, the kind that feels like icing on cake and splashing at beaches. All this for one shared vision. The two of you were visionaries. To this, his smile was that of happiness blooming as a spring flower would. You could see it coming from inside of him to the light of his eyes, and spreading across his chest. He was happy to see you filled with hope, and you could feel it in the way he spoke and the way he relaxed. It was nothing short of genuine. You bubbled up and joked around with him.

“John, frankly speaking, is this even legal?”

“It depends.”

You felt the excitement die down a little bit as you realised the seriousness in his tone. It was replaced by an uncomfortable premonition pervading your senses. You gave him a look, pressing him to tell you more.

“I meanㅡTechnically we could do this. We have enough authority to access banking information. The problem is if they come to know we had been snooping around.”

“Oh my god John are you really sure about this-”

“You just have to trust me, we have to take a risk. Just as I have taken a gamble on you. I have a plan.”

Your eyes widened at his statement. He was right, he couldn’t gain anything else from working with a hothead like you. He had taken a chance on you. What else did you have to offer to him? It was a sobering statement. After all, you did prove to be a handful in the meeting today, it was a pretty big mess up. You two could only have trust or you would have nothing. And you would hate to be a liability to him.

The two of you stared ahead at the streets, bustling with the cacophony produced by the city at midday traffic. The winds picked up, with fallen leaves and litter on the semi-empty street dancing to their own choreography. A chill ran down your spine, signalling the approach of nightfall. You both had decided then that it was best you get a move on to the bank before rush hour traffic befalls upon you.

###

The buildings galloped up where your sights could reach, Gotham National Bank standing out as a nostalgic hue of ivory, marbled with contours of magnificent antiquated architecture. Small fragments crumbled from the pillars encircling it, exalting it to an unmatched quality of regality as if there stood an ancient and historic piece of post-American Renaissance. This unusual lavishness caught the eye in the heart of Gotham. You both sauntered up the stone steps with a comfortable rhythm. The wooden framed glass doors pushed to the side as you both turned round the bend. The confidence you two shared initially was faltering as you realised the danger behind the work you were going to do.

The place reeked of opulence, a feeling of vastness with high ceilings, yet you still felt suffocated by the scent of luxury vanilla tobacco perfume. The air felt still and frigid, despite its warm rustic tones and yellow ceiling lights. You would never fall for this false allure and fabrication of a cozy and comfortable environment. It lulls you into a false sense of security. A carefully crafted institute that tries to evoke trust is nothing but lies. Money, whether little or a lot, is a source of stress in the lives of people after all. How the bank could portray themselves as anything but was beyond you. Your lips tightened as you walked to the bank tellers. Surprisingly the foyer was not as crowded as you had expected. It is well enough that the people of this city did not understand the banking and monetary system, for if they did, there would be a revolution by the next morning.

There was no line at the counter where you two were expected. John Blake regarded the bank teller with a tightlipped smile and firm handshake. You noticed Blake’s calloused hands, they weren’t too big and certainly did not look fitting for that of a white-collar accountant. He flashed his identification card from the companies you two were liaised with and requested to be granted permission for a thorough evaluation of their financial statements. Fingers crossed, you and Blake shared a look as the young man behind the desk studied the card in its holder skittishly. Clearly, he wasn’t experienced at all.

“Sir, I’m sorry but I think I would have to check with my superiors if I could authorise your entry into our systems.”

He brought a hand to his collar and nervously adjusted his tie around his neck. Your heart sank as you prepared yourself for the worst. Multiple scenarios rang through your head. They could be notified. You could be fired for attempting unauthorised entry into confidential records. Blake hurriedly reached into his coat pocket in a last-ditch attempt, stopping the young man from approaching higher-ups.

“We are directly associated with Mr. Lau of Lau Security Investments Holdings, and as the official Financial Advisor of Gotham Press Holdings and part of the directorial meeting board, we are granted perfect autonomy in ensuring and cross referencing the accuracy of our financial statements.”

John Blake maintained a stone cold composure, not a single crack in his facade, presenting a separate placeholder card from today’s meeting with the company stamp embossed on its surface. Although, upon closer inspection you could see him grip the sleeves of his dark blue suit in his folded arms. He could fool a silly junior bank teller, but not you unfortunately. You held your breath. Upon hearing the name of the CEO roll off his tongue, the young man inspected the card and his shoulders slackened a considerable amount. He cleared his voice.

“Of course. I will access the statements for you in just a minute.”

He began keying into the laptop in front of him and dialing numbers into his keypad. You suddenly remembered how to breathe as you let out a puff of air held in your lungs. In a wash of relief, you brought your hand to John’s back and gripped onto his suit reassuringly. You could see that he had his eyes downcast, his tight hold on his sleeves loosening. His jaw was still tight and jutted forward. You looked him in the eyes as he was vulnerable for a moment, you softened your gaze as if telling him something.

You don’t have to be so strong anymore.

It was a tough call. You could tell he was scared out of his wits. He didn’t like to lie, he didn’t like to use deceit. You two had abused your positions after all. You had taken advantage of the inexperience of the young man behind the desk. You were surprised he had done it at all. Hell, he had been the one who spontaneously suggested the idea anyway. You understood though. He had infracted his moral code for something bigger and more important. All this went unnoticed by the bank teller who was so engrossed in fumbling about with card keys and entering the right code. You smiled at John encouragingly.

To signal he was done, the bank teller turned his laptop around to face you two. The two of you stared into the records presented on screen. This was your golden opportunity. Blake gave you a look and nodded, and immediately you knew what to do. For him, all signs of remorse had dissipated like cotton candy on a tongue and his senses were on overdrive. The impressive work ethic of Blake had begun to override his emotions and you saw his propensity for achieving results.

You loaded the data into a thumb drive and jammed it back into your laptop. You processed the data with Microsoft SQL. This allowed you to store, read or manipulate the data. Then you loaded the data into Tableau to start data visualisation. Concurrently, you fetched a code for a machine learning algorithm you had worked on and were familiar with. You looked over at Blake as your computer was processing, chewing on your lips as he loaded a graph on his screen. He had been analysing the datasets provided by your company which you had prior access to.

Well, as can be expected, most transactions are non-fraudulent. To find evidence was like finding a needle in a haystack. But you were an expert at detecting outliers. For an imbalanced dataset, you needed to think out of the box. If you projected the sets into a scatter plot, you could visualise the clusters of fraudulent and non-fraudulent transactions. Bingo. You could generate synthetic samples from then on. However, all this prediction was meaningless without insights from Blake. Your work could only substantiate what he was able to find. You tried to make sense of the data and tugged at your hair, nervously shaking a leg. Seemingly in a state of distress, he tugged his hand on his chin with pressure increasing by the second. He was onto something.

When he was done, he shifted your laptop over to his side of the desk and compared both of your graphs and excel tables. After a grating amount of time, he let out a burning stream of air that was searing the walls of his lungs. He looked over at you and nodded solemnly. That meant only one thing, this was it, you guys had done it. You had proven Lau’s fraudulence. He instinctively leaned over to you, voice nothing more than a raspy whisper.

“In more than a few accounts, extra digits were added to the fees recorded.”

He gesticulated towards the data and scrolled in.

“For example here, if the fee initially recorded by the clerk was $5,234, a five was added to the first position reporting the fee as $55,234. In that single month, production fees were overstated by several hundred thousands of dollars. This explains why they could evade taxes so easily.”

You narrowed your eyes. He added more discernment to the situation, a form of scum reading if you will. Of course, he did so in hushed tones, to prevent the bank teller from catching on.

“Not to mention, the dates of the frauds you identified tie in and correlate heavily with reports of organised crime in Gotham.”

Your eyebrows raised and you snapped your head to look at him in disbelief. Never had you imagined things to be this bad. This was a massive case you had uncovered. Blake chuckled lowly, a slender brow quirked incredulously at you with mixed amusement. He was always one to be tickled by your over-dramatically animated reactions to things.

“Always on the ball, aren’t ya kid? Like a true siege machine. I couldn’t have done this without you. Excellent work.”

You felt your face heating up at this statement. You suddenly felt awkward. Your actions suddenly, not within your control, became demure and coy. You even went as far as to attempt to hide your features behind your fingers, as you brought a hand to your face. You hated it when this happened. You could never admit this to yourself. You had always put on a tough front for John. Yet no amount of training could prepare you for moments like this. You thrived on being able to impress him, to prove yourself worthy. That you were no mistake he made.

This revelation was nothing but a testament to the remarkable teamwork and chemistry you two had. It was nothing short of an incredible feat. Your skill sets heavily complemented each other, and your lines of thoughts and cognition heavily resonated together. You truly felt invincible at times with him. You could do anything with him. You could build an empire. You tasted something akin to victory on your tongue, despite not really having won anything yet. It felt like snowflakes had settled on your tongue, except instead of icy coldness you felt a sugary golden warmth. Blake had reached his arm around and patted you on your shoulder reservedly, denoting the conveyance of commendation from a coworker. Shrugging his hands off you, you sent him a sidelong glare for daring to interact with you on such a formal basis, as if you hadn’t skirted past a professional connection long ago.

Your attention was caught on your screen as you realised the data visualisation for Gotham Press Holdings was also complete. You realised that movements of funds to Lau Holdings had increased 342 percent for the past month. This was definitely a suspicious transaction that had gone unreported in the official financial statements. You dug deeper and deeper and you cursed at the power Lau had, and resolved to bring this up to the higher-ups at some point. The ire in realising your company had been pulled into Lau’s heinous mess tore through your chest like a claymore blade, and thoughts raced through your mind. Anger coursed through your veins like a lifeforce in and of itself, tugging at your fingers like puppet strings as they twitched involuntarily. Blake noticed this and called out your name. It was futile. You can’t listen to him like this. You wrenched your attention away from the screen and onto Blake in an attempt to explain the situation and―

Gunshots ripped through splitting the still air, its sound piercing like that of blithe firecrackers, a bangarang seeming to come from nowhere as screams of terror rang. You blinked, hands haphazardly thrown in front of you in reaction, a dulled instinct of your body lost years ago. You blinked again, and you were on the floor all of a sudden, not really sure how you had ended up there. You searched around with your pupils, registering that Blake had an arm tugged around your shoulders and another pulling at your white sleeves. You peeked upwards furtively through the curtains of your hair framing your face, trembling with your chin strained against your sternum to watch men clad in suits with frightening clown masks run through the space.

“Alright everybody, heads down! I said hands up, I’m makin’ a withdrawal here!”

To you, the man had the most venomous voice you’ve heard, straight from the depths of hell. You squeezed your eyes shut, not daring to stare at them as if it were a mortal sin that would grant you the eternal punishment of death if you did. It was a long time ago when you had last been placed in such a compromising situation, since the Batman had taken to cleaning the streets. You forgot the feeling of fear. It was almost invigorating in a sense. This was life on the edge as you know it.

“Obviously we don’t want you doin’ anything with your hands, other than holdin’ on for dear life!”

These words didn’t really mean much to you. Just jumbled sloppy threats, obviously unplanned and entropic in nature. Perhaps they didn’t mean exactly what they were saying. Yet this frightened you so much more. Clowns were unpredictable. You thought back on the various cirques and circuses you had patronised in the past, remembering the many archetypal clown personas they assumed. Their traditional slapstick humour, mischief in demeanor always put you on edge. You never knew what tricks they might pull on you, they were masterful tricksters. You saw the clown pass what looked like a grenade-shaped time bomb to the man at the counter next to you. An epileptic meditation swept over you, foreshadowing the prelude of a nervous collapse. Blake pulled you closer into his form upon seeing the time bomb, caging his arms around you. You were unsure if he did this to comfort you or if it was for his self-reassurance.

“Nobody make a move! Nobody! Stay down!”

One of them lazily swung his gun around, uncaring as he pointed wherever a group of people clambered. You huffed. Clowns and their general nonchalance, clearly exaggerated in their movements. What is this little regard they had for human life? What is human life to them?

You continued watching a clown terrorise a blonde woman behind the counter. You heard an internal time bomb ticking, echoing away as the dissonance of razors on violin strings bled through your ears. The icy fingers of apprehension wrapped tightly around your spine, much like the way Blake held you, they tugged at your bones until they felt ready to tear past your flesh.

Bang!

You jerked your head and out of John Blake’s grasp. You saw an explosive shattering of glass from the main counter which was encircled by a glass and wood partition. The gunswinger had been taken down. A man in a grey suit, who you recognised as the head bank teller, wielded a powerful shotgun. You pressed your wrists together, you still had a fighting chance. This man was a glimmer of hope for the victims. He shot a couple more shells at another clown, but he missed all of them. He let out a yell. You bit down on your bottom lip, nails digging crescent shapes further into your palm. He exuded a sense of confidence and self-assuredness, with an upright posture and puff in his chest unbefitting for someone who has to sit the entire day for his job. He trudged onwards with his mighty steps with more pumps of his shotgun, a masculine energy that was striking enough. You felt a collective sense of relief from the other victims as you all rooted for him in silence.

“You have any idea who you’re stealin’ from? You and your friends are dead!”

You pondered this statement from the grey suited man. What kind of threat was this? It was a minor detail that you could be overthinking. It was definitely out of the ordinary for a generic banker to say something like this. But it all makes sense now, especially with everything Blake had led you to believe, and the realisation dawned upon you. This was indeed a mob bank. And believe that no one who robs a mob bank leaves alive. You started laughing at yourself internally, perhaps you were going insane. Oh how the tables have turned, the only salvation in this situation was that a member of the mob was your only hope in escaping this place alive. It was a bitter realisation, you cursed the irony in the situation. Perhaps Lau had indirectly saved your life, given his ties to organised crime.

You saw the two clowns regroup and discuss something. You noticed that one of them hadn’t spoken the whole time since their arrival, and simply nodded his head fervently at the other. He wore a clown mask that had a blue frown. You recognised him as the one who handed out and unhooked the time bombs. You narrowed your eyes at him. He was too quiet.

The man with the shotgun had missed his last shot as the other clown, the one with the spiked hair, stood up. It seemed that he had emptied the barrel of his shotgun, and fumbled with it within his hands. Oh no. Blake had sunken backwards further into the floor. In a split second, what hope you held onto swiftly dwindled down, you saw some of the other terrorised folks’ faces fall as you let go of your closed fists, the heat of the blood rushing through doing nothing to warm up your cold and clammy hands.

The clown with the blue frown took advantage of this and swiftly stood up, with a sort of careless grace that was strangely unique. Idiosyncratic even, how could that man possess a quirk so paradoxical and contradictory in every sense of the word? He fired a flurry of shots and the man wielding the shotgun shook violently, falling to the floor in an undignified manner with the clinking of bullets ringing onto the floor.

The clown quirked his head to the side with his eyes trained on the fallen man with mild intrigue, almost in lackadaisical amusement. It was patronising, frankly. A mockery of a quizzical look. It reminded you of the morbid fascination the beautiful people had shown you earlier today. Your face twisted into a snarl. Your gut was right about this man. He was dangerous, not your average goon. He looked like he did this on the regular for fun.

The clown with the spiked hair squabbled with him over something that seemed to be important. But he still said nothing. He stayed while the other clown left to head to where you presumed to be the vault. He walked down the aisles between desks with leisurely footsteps, and a relaxed hunch in his posture that looked feigned. He swung his arms around his body candidly, like how one would on a leisurely stroll when you were out on a boring trip with your family. His masked eyes swiped across every gentle shadow the room forged. He was extremely observant. More so than the rest, as he constantly took note of the surroundings and mapped the location out. However, he only gave passing glances to the people on the floor, as if they weren’t really there at all. He didn’t seem to care at all that he was, as a matter of fact, carrying out a godforsaken bank heist right this very moment. Was this a joke to him?

Nothing could dissipate this horrible feeling you had about this man, how gut-wrenching it felt to be in his presence. You tried to stare at John Blake covertly, trying to search if he had found out a way to get out of this mess alive. But he had his eyes trained forward and hands gripping at the floor tiles, seemingly paralysed with fear after the man with the mask walked past you two. The man looked at his watch, with an unreal sense of patience. You tried to get Blake’s attention, but it was no use. He was scared stiff. You dared not move as you were sure that the clown would have no qualms shooting you then and there. You observed as he turned his back to you, and you noticed he had messily dyed, faded green hair. You craned your head. What kind of twisted criminal was this...?

The spiked hair masked clown returned with many navy duffel bags, some on his shoulders and some dragged across the marble floor. The other clown lugged a couple bags along, pooling them at the center of the back entrance, in front of three wooden framed glass doors.

“That’s a lot of money!” The spiked hair clown jibed, clearly in greed. “If this Joker guy was so smart, he’d had us bring a bigger car!”

The clown with the blue frown turned his back to the other clown. Immediately when he did this, a heavy clicking noise was heard. You noticed a sort of hesitance in his movements, realising he had made a mistake. The other clown had turned on him, reloaded his handgun and pointed it straight at his back. The air was tense. He slowly turned his head to face him again, almost defensively so that he wouldn’t trigger the other clown to make any rash decisions.

“I’m bettin’ the Joker told you to kill me as soon as we loaded the cash.”

The hand holding the gun was quivering. Whatever game it was that they were playing, it was dangerous. You noticed the two of them were the only clowns left. Whoever this ‘Joker’ person they talked about was, he was calculative. He managed to turn them all on each other, and they weeded each other out. The man with the frown pulled back his sleeve to check his watch, and grumbled. His life was on the line and he was still playing games. Your brows tightened. Enough of this feigned indifference.

“No, no, no, no. I kill the bus... Driver.”

This was the first time he spoke this whole time. He sounded like how a real clown possibly would. A raspy timbre from years of smoking and a nasally tone in wry jest. At the corner of your eyes, you saw the fallen bank teller try to turn his body, but to no avail. He seemed affected by this statement, for reasons unknown. The clown side-stepped, out of the gun’s line of sight.

“Bus driver?”

The man holding the gun delayedly tracked him with his gun, stepping backwards tentatively in tandem with the other clown. The clown continued stepping to the side, acting defenseless with his hands in front of his waist as a gesture of nonaggression despite holding a gun, to cajole the other man. They kept at a distance apart and circled each other. The clown with the frown cocked his head to the side as he stepped, as though in confusion at the situation at hand. However, it felt unnatural to you. This simple act was definitely deliberate. You could almost see the gears turning in his head. Whatever it was, he was cold and calculated. Every one of his actions seemed carefully thought out and he did not do pointless things. He only spoke when absolutely necessary. Every move he has made thus far, he had done so with intention and purpose.

The air hung with uncertainty. Blake, seeming to have regained his senses with this distraction, turned his body to face you. The man with the gun grew impatient with this lack of an answer and he shook his head.

“What bus drive-”

In the blink of an eye, the wooden frames of the doors burst apart and glass flew everywhere. A yellow school bus had crashed through the gates like a battering ram. It drove directly into where the clown holding the gun stood and at break-neck speed, knocked him out cold. The bank was silent at that moment, not really knowing how to register or react to this turn of events. John Blake forced your attention on him and took full advantage of this distraction, whispering to you.

“Whatever happens, when this is over make a run for it. Through that hole in the wall.”

You gave a grunt of acknowledgement. The door slid open to reveal another goon with a clown mask.

“School’s out, time to go. That guy’s not gettin’ up, is he?”

Not one for small talk, the clown with the frown threw him the duffel bags to load them into the bus. The other clown continued jibing in excitement, especially after seeing how many filled bags of cash they had to toss into the bus. He threw the last duffel bag at him. Having just arrived, the talkative man clearly did not understand the circumstances that had led to this point. You felt bad for him as he seemed naive.

“What happened to the rest of the guys?”

Without even looking at him, the clown with the blue frown offhandedly shot him with a round of bullets. You squeezed your eyes shut. You could not get used to this nasty sound. He did not even give him the time of day. Not a single care in the world. He ambled past you again to pull the last duffel bag and tossed it into the bus. The question of why he always gave this impression of detachment from the reality in front of you remains unanswered.

“Think you’re smart huh?”

He pulled his hand onto the edges of the doorframe and was about to climb into the bus, but he turned around. Perhaps this was not a part of his calculations. He had one foot on the steps, but pulled his foot back down and adjusted his mask to stare at who it was daring enough to speak up to him. The bank teller struggled and floundered on the ground, coughing and sputtering. He curled into himself even more, much like a fetus would, looking absolutely pathetic. He was fighting back a grimace on his face.

“The kind that hired youseㅡThey’ll just do the same to you…”

The masked man’s interest was seemingly piqued by his speech of open defiance. He brought his arm behind his back into his back pocket and staggered across the floor. That couldn’t-care-less grace acted again, his attention wavering as his gaze flitted between the man on the floor and the surroundings. He pulled something out of his pocket. You could not recognise what the object was.

No, why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?

“Oh, criminals in this town used to believe in things… Honour, respect.”

The bank teller spat. The masked man continued walking and stopped before him, imposing. There was a momentous promise in his gravity, a hint of catastrophe in the tilt of his head. He bent down and crouched to the fallen man’s level, bringing the object to his face.

“Look at you. What do you believe in huh? WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE IN?”

He shouted the last statement, blood-curdling and grinding around the edges. It seemed to be a last final effort display of dominance, his ego refusing to allow him to submit before he was stifled and his words fell off with a gagging noise. The man had shoved a black cylindrical device into his mouth. You felt the same internal razors on violins escalate in intensity, and your heart constricted with the crescendo.

“I believe,”

The masked man started, this time his voice different, sounding smooth like butter. It felt like a balmy breeze sending chills down your spine, wrapping around your neck with smooth fingers. It was laced with an anarchic menace.

“Whatever doesn’t kill you simply makes you,”

He removed his mask, and looked to the side. Then, he looked down at him again. No one amongst you could comprehend what they were looking at. The violins had reached its loudest forte, and in a thunderous roar it came crashing down. He gave a slight twist of his head.

“Stranger.”

His tone shifted and he uttered that last word with his nasally rasp instead. His eyebrows lifted a fraction off his face, in mock honesty. He smiled and withdrew quickly, vanishing away from the scene like a shadowy wraith.

“Kid, run.” Blake urged. You just stared at that spot where the apparition appeared.

You had just seen a ghost.

Silly little girl. Maybe there is a ghost, maybe... It’s only you.

“Hey, are ya listening? Get ready.”

He was a phantom. You could not scratch off this disturbing feeling about him. Thousands of spiders had crawled up your arms to reach your face, paralysing you in your wake as dread was siphoned into your head, numbing your brain. No matter how much you gouged and clawed at your skin, the arachnids could not be torn off. You thought back on his face. He was soaked in nothing but pure malice, doused as if an arsonist had poured gasoline on him. You saw him enter the bus and slid the door shut, a cord extending from the back of his pocket to the man still on the floor. Your eyes focused onto the black cylindrical gadget in his mouth

Alarmed, you snapped out of it.

It finally occurred to you, this man was about to die. This man who valiantly fought for you people and tried to save the bank. You didn’t care at this point if he was part of the Mafia or whatever blasted gang it was that ran about in Gotham. He was a citizen of Gotham, no less than you. You broke free of the grasps of the arachnids, and stood up and ran to the center of the back entrance, heels clicking sharply against the cold floor. Blake watched your back in horror, swapping glances between you and the yellow school bus which hadn’t left. You could feel gazes of scrutiny, all unsure of what to think of your spur-of-the-moment effort.

You had to do something about this. You made up your mind, there’s no convincing you out of this. Not even from Blake.

What about me?

The ghost flashed in your mind.

You ran so fast, when you stopped in front of him you felt the whiplash of inertia propelling you further. Snapping out of it, you bent down in front of him and tried to yank the butt of what was in his mouth. You looked him in the eyes, noticing how wide and blue they were, and they were close to watering. You frowned, tears threatening to break at the corner of your own eyes. You felt as helpless as he did as you were unable to pry the object out of his mouth.

You attempted again, trying to attack it from a different angle. You tried to ignore and dull the twinging sensation pricking your nose. Your brows pinched upwards bridging at a peak, your methods administered were to no avail. The man looked at you as if his life flashed before his eyes. You can’t give up on him. Not with the way he practically stared into your soul.

“Hey, listen to me alright. We will get you out.”

Your voice was shaky. You stared into his eyes with determination. You observed how his mouth curved around the object. His jaw was like a vice in a workshop space clamping on tightly to the object. A vice was made of metal however.

“Okay, this is going to hurt. But don’t you worry it will work.”

You used your fingers to pick up the drool lapping around his mouth. Then, with the warning you gave him prior, you forcefully jammed your lubricated fingers into the sides of the entrance of his mouth. He let out a long and drawn out moan of pain as you hooked your fingers around the foreign object, wrangling it out of his mouth, feeling the scrape of his teeth against your fingers and the smooth walls behind the hollows of his cheek.

At long last, you trawled the object. However, while you held it triumphantly in your hands, the bus had driven off with a force that pulled you backwards slightly. You felt the string dislodge and it released a noxious gas that bellowed columns like thickets around you and the bank teller. The small dose had proven to be debilitating, and you coughed and moved your hand to cover your nose. It burned. In a swift motion, you tossed the smoke bomb to the other end of the room, something you should have done long ago.

That’s too bad then. Maybe next time.

You collapsed onto the ground from the strong inhale of the gas that filled your lungs, finding it difficult to get back on your feet. It scorched your air passages. You heard the sound of hurried and loud footsteps frantically pounding against the floor tiles as the people were running towards the hole in the wall. You tried to grab onto the man to lug him as you crawled, but it soon proved to be difficult. You cursed as you lost your strength.

However, before you knew it, you were suddenly hoisted onto the shoulders of a man, your upper torso hanging down his back. Disoriented and sputtering in anguish, tears clouded your vision as you tried to spot the bank teller and you yelled.

“Someone-help the man who was shot!”

“Still worryin’ about him at a time like this? Not sure if that’s very smart of you.”

This voice was unfamiliar. You couldn’t recognize it. The man who carried you was running towards the entrance and you felt this in the bob of your torso. You knocked your arms frantically at his lower back, though it probably felt quite pathetic given your current state.

“Relax, relax. Someone else’s got him.”

You relented upon hearing that, and thanked him for telling you that. As you exited the building you looked forward and your vision was blurry, however you could make out Blake catching up to you. He held a stack of laptops and tablets. He was panting and when he made it, he caught your hand and clasped it in his. This reassured you. You felt a little safer.

The adrenaline was draining out of your system quickly. The lightheaded fatigue was settling in. You felt like you were in a bad dream. The sounds of traffic and sirens whirred past you in a blur, sounding louder than they should have. You felt the comings of a migraine swallow around your head. It almost felt like your world was spinning, and you just wanted to sit down.

The recoils in the steps were too much. Your stomach lurched, and you clutched at your mouth. You tried looking at Blake, but you couldn’t see him. He looked ghoulish. Like a creature of the underworld.

He lurked under a veil of alabaster, blotted onto his canvas were two black cavernous holes gouged in place of his eyes, deep like the plunge basins of a calamitous waterfall, one that roared with stygian ink. But this was perhaps not the most terrifying part about him.

You saw a bright spark in front of your eyes, unsure of what was happening. Blake squeezed your palm even tighter. It must’ve been the bombs from earlier going off.

His grin extended far beyond the realms of what would be normal, unsettling and sinister as a macabre smile was carved deep into his white flesh, dripping blood red over ridges and grooves that swirled and curved along the sides of his mouth, peaks pushed together and formed after millenniums of cataclysmic terrain shifts.

You gave Blake’s hand a crushing grip. Anything to snap out of this terror.

When he grinned he revealed a set of discoloured teeth, yellowed and rancid with dread, the earth no longer fertile and only bore fruits of death.

All of a sudden, you could see and you saw people gathered around, safe and sound. Blake had a concerned expression.

You sniggered inwardly, looks like that clown had a miscalculation in his steps. All the small victories mattered to you. The running had stopped and the feeling of vertigo had been alleviated slightly, but was not gone completely. The man set you down as you slumped heavily against the sidewalk. You looked around you and you were suffocated by the imposing high rise buildings of Gotham City.

“Hey, look―About that comment regardin’ the man who was shot…”

You steeled yourself to stare at the man who saved your life, pushing past how dizzy looking up made you feel.

“Look, I’m sorry about that alright. If you hadn’t done that… Then perhaps others like me wouldn’ta done what’s right.”

Still in a state of befuddlement, you stared at him blankly. Slowly, you registered the meaning of his statement and a blush crept over your cheeks.

“That’s really all I have to say. Uh, thank you, I guess.”

With that, your mystery saviour left you with Blake. You wished you had at least been in the right mind enough to ask for the man’s name. John Blake skirted around you and supported your weight as he sat beside you. He smirked at the ground, an unreadable look in his downcast eyes.

“You know kid, I really hate to admit this to you. And I’m only really saying this because you’re in this sorry state.”

He flicked your forehead with his fingers. You reeled backwards and patted your hand across the area where he inflicted his damage.

“That was pretty damn badass of you back there. But you could have died.”

Groggily, this barely registered in your head, and your head lolled about, the motion lulling you into a dream. You were out, and your head rested against Blake’s shoulder. Alarmed, he recalled that you had taken a direct hit from the smoke bomb. He had to act fast.

“Guess we have to drag your sorry ass to the hospital.”

He stared forward at the ambulances arriving, dragged your arm across his shoulders and tightened his grip on you, preparing to lift you over there. Before the ambulances stopped, he looked motionless at the ground. He felt an uneasy sense of discomfort build within his chest. What had he done in that whole debacle? Looked on at the sidelines like a sitting duck?

A word rang in his mind over and over again like the sirens coming close.

Coward.

He shook his head and rubbed his chin. He hated nothing more than the feeling of uselessness. He always wanted to contribute something, he shifted his gaze to look at you. He was stunned by the display of courage and compassion. You outdid him in your generosity. He couldn’t even do anything to save you, for crying out loud. The look in his eyes wavered, full of convoluted emotion. One thing’s for sure, he was clearly disappointed in himself.

You performed way better than he had expected in the data interpretation too. He had indeed found a diamond in the rough.

Kid, if you could realise your potential on your own…

He tried to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He thought back on the words spoken by the man who saved you. Your kind act has unknowingly inspired others. Your compassion and spurred on further acts of compassion. He was right. This strengthened his hope and belief in the people of Gotham. This city was worth fighting for. Fighting the conflict that reigned over his emotions, he had to arrive at a resolve.

Sighing, he muttered a curse under his breath. Then, he hoisted you up and staggered over to the paramedics.

###

Flinging the mask to the side, he emptied his gloved hand and saw it lightly bounce against a cushioned bus seat. Then he turned around to wind the doors shut. He looked down to observe the duffel bags, roughly gauging if this heist alone was enough for him. He was hoping that he wouldn’t need to carry out another heist for a long time. He stared at the shotgun he held in his other glove. A very useful trinket he snatched from today’s heist. What a steal, he thought to himself. He was about to jump over the duffel bags to head to the driver’s seat but something caught his eye as he peered out the frosted glass pane.

A girl? What is she doing?

She bent down facing the wasted bank teller and tried pulling at the cylinder in his mouth. He observed with light boredom, unimpressed by her antics. He jammed the smoke bomb far too deep into the vice grip of his jaw. There was no use, really.

Foolish little girl.

She re-angled herself, to get a better grip on the smoke bomb. He could discern her appearance from this view. She wore a white coat and had her hair tied up in some type of bun? What did she think she was, some type of doctor? This ticked him off. He narrowed his eyes. While he was making a pretty baseless assumption about a random girl in a bank, it couldn’t change the fact that his first impression of her was that she was a healthcare worker.

He stretched his lips, jutting his jaw forward. For some reason, this made him irrationally annoyed. He never did like healthcare workers. Doctors and nurses are perhaps among some of the most prestigious jobs in society today, and have been for pretty much the entirety of history and human civilisation. As the front lines combating disease, they are often lauded and praised as heroes for their sacrifices, saving lives while putting their own lives on the line. They give up many things for their medical careers.

This was laughable. He gave a snort, how funny is it that everyone reveres and idolises the motivations of such people. As if they were actual messengers from the divine being, God himself. What they don’t realise is that people lie. They always do. They always say that they’re mainly doing it for altruistic purposes, because they feel fulfilled saving other people. As if prestige and money aren’t a thing. No one truly wants to be a pawn in war.

He licked his lips and peered down at the naive girl. There will come a time when she realises that helping others is asinine. The reasons for which she has to learn on her own. She will only be weak the more she believes her morals to be better than everyone else’s.

And weakness only disgusts him.

He rolled his eyes watching her fail yet again. This was a waste of his time, people really love doing pointless things. We live in an amusing world. He paid her no more heed.

“Doctors and nurses are not heroes.”

With that, he braced his hands on the seats lining both sides of the aisles, hoisting himself over the haphazardly strewn hoard of duffel bags to the other side. His cable extended further from his back pocket, the sound lightly scraping the shell of his ears. He clambered into the driver’s seat and landed unceremoniously as his limbs were thrown forward at the impact. He shifted forward, widened his palms and then scrunched his fingers as he searched around for the engine start. After pulling the knob, he smacked both of his hands carelessly on the steering wheel. He shook his head a few times and sighed.

“At the end of the day, they’ll always be martyred against their will.”

#joker #Heath Ledger Joker #ledger joker #ledger!joker x reader #the dark knight

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forebodingprophet · 3 years

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Blind Faith: Side Esaias Pt 2

The man wasn’t lying when he said it’d “be a bit”. The place Esaias had been offloaded was already out in the middle of nowhere- trees all around with only one vague path for anything to take, and even that was overgrown with roots and grass, making his ride very bumpy. He genuinely thought the cage would fall off a few times, and he both hoped for and dreaded it. It must’ve been at least another hour before they stopped again. At one particularly harrowing point where the lift had been passing by a sloping ravine, Esaias tried to force the cage to fall by slamming into one side. Yes he would have gotten very severely hurt, but it was better than what was going to happen otherwise. Unfortunately, that didn’t pan out as he’d hoped. The cage was actually secured to the lift by some means Esaias couldn’t see, and the clamor he was making alerted the man in the cabin, making him stop to come back and check the cage to make sure it was still secure.

“Nice try, kid,” he said with a cocky sneer. Then his face dropped to a scowl. “Don’t do it again.” Esaias remained silent but continued to shoot him a nasty glare all the while. For the remainder of the trip, he’d hunched over and sulked, just trying to remember as much of the route as possible. He didn’t even know if he was in the same region anymore. Even if he did escape, he’d have to use every bit of knowledge he had in order to make his way back to a town.

After a significant amount of time (Esaias couldn’t be sure without a watch, but it’d felt like it was at least an hour), they arrived at a fairly dilapidated warehouse. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him how it even got built because there was no indication of any civilization having ever existed nearby; it just looked like someone had taken a warehouse from a shipyard and plonked it down in the middle of the forest. To make matters worse, an incalculable number of Ghost-types were hovering around. Esaias himself didn’t have any issues with ghosts, but he knew this meant any psychic abilities that tried to reach him would be negated. A warehouse infused with ghostly energy… someone knew that’d Balia’d come looking for him eventually. He eyed the place warily as something seemed to superimpose over the building itself. It wasn’t a ‘natural’ place.

“Alright, we’re here!” the man called. “Don’t it look grand?” The man gave him a cocky sneer, no doubt knowing full-well exactly how it looked to Esaias. It felt like this man had prepared all this specifically for him too; the gilded cage, the steel cuffs, and now a psychic-proof hideout. It was like he dealt in Seers on a regular basis, which couldn’t be true. Seers were exceedingly rare, even among psychics. It wasn’t like they didn’t exist outside his village, but he doubted there were more than a hundred of them throughout the world. Definitely not enough to warrant setting up an entire market for Seer parts. So how on Earth…? Esaias shook his head. He could ponder that some other time. Right now he needed to be looking for possibilities for escape… something he definitely wasn’t seeing any of right now.

“I know it’s probably pointless to tell you, but there’s no getting out of this. I’ve checked, and double-checked, and triple-checked. There’s no way some kid is breaking out, even if he is a little smart. Even if you can get out, the Ghosts’ll tell me where you are. Just give it up.” Esaias elected to remain silent. His attempt earlier had made his intentions more than clear, but he was hoping a little that even if he couldn’t outright escape now that he could at least convince this guy he was worth more alive so he could escape later. It wouldn’t be easy, after all it’d be incredibly obvious that he was only vying for his life, and anyone with any common sense knew that meant he’d try to escape after he was sold to someone far less cautious, but he had looks, intelligence, and was inherently skilled at anything he tried his hands at; his only real demerit was his abilities and the misfortune they brought him, so he didn’t think it’d be an unreasonable task to undertake. Convincing this man that he was better as a slave than in parts wouldn’t be easy, but it was starting to seem like a better immediate option that trying to escape. “Still won’t say anything, huh? Well that’s fine too. I’ll go ahead and show you to your new home~ Not that you’ll be here long.” The cackle he let out made Esaias cringe. He wasn’t sure how long he had, but if he wanted to live, then he had to work fast.

#Blind Faith Plot #Esaias

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megsironthrone · 4 years

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Choose Your Story Part 3

Here’s part 3! You voted and it was almost unanimously A: Sandor find out the reader’s relationship isn’t what it seems and intervenes. *Characters are not mine!*

Prologue, 2

Warnings: Modern AU, more fighting, a little bit of sweetness, mentions of cheating(which I do NOT condone), and mentions of sexy times(not the reader x Sandor). A couple swears. POV switches

Pairings/Characters: Eventual Sandor x reader, Reader x unnamed S/O

Sandor's POV

It's amazing how quickly time can pass when you're fighting with someone all the time. That was true for Sandor. He spent the majority of the time he wasn't working either ignoring you or arguing with you. In all honesty, it had become a normal part of his daily routine. He was surprised the other neighbors in the building hadn't insisted on the two of you being thrown out. The back and forth was constant. You would do something to bother him and he would either retaliate or share some not-so-nice words with you. But before he knew it, things would shift between you.

Sandor had just sat down with a beer after a long day at work when it started. The noises of you and your significant other. Sandor was in absolutely no mood to deal with it. Joffrey had been more than enough of a brat for Sandor. He was not about to put up with it from you this time. Taking a swig of the cold brew, Sandor stood and left his apartment. He was going to let you have it again. Or so he thought.

Just as Sandor was about to beat on the door for probably the fifth time that week, he heard the sound of someone coming up the stairs. Not wanting to disturb anyone else, he waited. Sandor was surprised to see you coming up the stairs. If you weren't in your apartment, who was? It was clearly your partner, Sandor recognized the voice, with someone that clearly wasn't you. This was about to get interesting.

Normal POV

You were exhausted. It had been a long day and you just wanted to get home, curl up with your partner, and relax. You didn't expect to see The Arse standing outside your door, poised to knock. You rolled your eyes. You did not have the patience to deal with him right now.

"What do you want now? I haven't done anything to warrant another visit from Your Royal Prick-ness today." He stared at you for a moment, as if he couldn't believe you were standing right outside your own apartment. "I asked you a question." He shook his head for a second, but still didn't speak. With a huff and another eye roll, you moved to push passed him.

"I wouldn't if I were you," he warned softly. You stopped fiddling with your keys and looked at him. You arched a brow. "And why not?" Sandor stepped away a little bit. If he told you what he'd heard, he didn't want you to kill the messenger. "You expecting anyone today?" he asked. You looked at him in confusion, a headache starting to form behind your eyes.

"What are you blathering on about? I really don't have time for this today." The Arse let out a sigh. "Fine. I heard a couple people in your apartment…your bedroom to be more precise." For a moment, you stood there still confused. But then it dawned on you. There were only two other people that had a key to your apartment. Your partner and the building's superintendent. You had just seen the super as you were coming up the stairs. That meant only one thing. Your partner was in your apartment with someone else.

Sandor's POV

Sandor could almost see the moment your mind grasped what he was saying. Your expression went from confusion, to understanding, to pure fury in a matter of seconds. "That sneaking, no good, son of a-" You didn't finish your sentence as you jammed your key in the lock and burst through the door.

Sandor wasn't really sure what to do now. Did he follow you? Did he go back to his apartment and put in ear buds to avoid hearing the inevitable fight that was about to happen? Sandor's question was answered for him when he heard the voice of your partner cry out, "Motherfu-Y/N! You broke my nose!", followed by a curse from you. With a heavy sigh, Sandor entered the apartment just as the person your partner had been with tried rushing out. They would have succeeded too, if they hadn't been trying to dress at the same time.

"What the hell?! In my bed?!" you were screaming. Sandor made it to the doorway of your bedroom. Your partner was holding their nose while you were cradling your hand to your chest. "Get out!" you cried. For once Sandor was glad not to be on the receiving end of your anger. Your now ex-partner scrambled to dress and leave the apartment. You whirled on Sandor with eyes burning with rage. "What the hell do you want?!" you snapped, still clutching your hand to your chest. Ignoring your temper, Sandor reached out and took your injured hand in his.

Normal POV

You were surprised at the gentleness he was using with you. He carefully examined your hand before chuckling. "Didn't anyone ever teach you how to throw a punch?" And he was back. You glared, but you knew there was none of your usual malice behind it. There couldn't be. You'd just had your heart broken and he wasn't the cause.

"Shut up. I was too angry to remember how. Can't believe that bastard. And I thought you were the biggest prick on the planet." He laughed again. "Plenty worse than me. You got ice in your freezer?" You gave a nod. "Yeah, I should." He turned to leave your room, prompting you to follow after him. You passed by all the memories and trinkets collected during your relationship. Guess it was time to throw those out.

"Sit," The Arse commanded when you reached the kitchen. "I'm not a damn dog," you muttered. He merely looked at you with his arms crossed over his chest while he waited for you to sit down. With a scoff, you plopped down in the nearest chair. You let yourself stare at the table. You found yourself getting lost in the little patterns you found there. And then you started thinking again. All your insecurities had just been pulled up from deep inside you. It wasn't until you heard the second chair move that you snapped out of it.

The Arse sat down, taking your hand in his once again, and gently pressed an icepack on your bruised knuckles. For a few moments, you sat there in silence. It was the quietest you'd ever been around him. "Guess you think I deserved it, huh?" you finally asked, if only to break the sudden tension in the room.

"No one deserves that," he answered quietly, "Not even the most annoying person on the planet." You laughed a little at that. "Thanks for trying to keep from seeing that. And for this." He shrugged. "I thought it was you. I was coming over to yell at you again. As for this, you really should learn how to throw a punch." You lightly kicked his leg. "Shut up," you grumbled, pulling another laugh from him. As you sat there letting him nurse your hand, you thought maybe he might not be so bad after all.

Voting for the next part will begin tomorrow! I hope you enjoyed part 3!

Choose Your Story Tags: @fallatyourfeet @songoficecreamandfireworks @emmice9 @silversprings98 @thatcutewerewolf CYS tags are separate from other tags, so please let me know if you’d like to be added to the list!

#choose your story #modern au #part 3 #sandor clegane #sandor clegane x reader #sandor x reader #enemies to lovers

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atths--twice · 4 years

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Kitten, while not my favorite episode, there were some good MSR moments and tell me that Scully wasn’t just as affected by the white Mulder shirt as most of us were. That man really knows how to wear a fitted short.

Chapter Thirty Six

Getting Warm

After being sure that Skinner is okay, Mulder and Scully head home, tired, but looking forward to spending time together. And boy, do they ..

February 2018

Mulder sat in the hospital waiting room while Scully was back with Skinner. She had patched him up as best she could back at Davey's trailer, but he needed to come to the hospital to be properly examined.

All this time later, she was still Skinner’s emergency contact, which was something neither of them had been aware of until she was called back by the nurse. The knowledge caused Scully to smile softly as she glanced at Mulder and headed to the back to be with Skinner.

They had been back there for about half an hour now and Mulder was getting antsy as he waited for them. He hoped Skinner was okay. The wound had been deep and looked pretty terrible. Shaking his head, he looked back down at the magazine in his hands.

“Mulder?” Scully’s voice said softly, her hand on his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, setting down the magazine and glancing at her as she sat in the chair in front of him. “How is he?”

“Okay, but they’re going to keep him here for a couple of days to keep an eye on him. They were able to isolate and stop the internal bleeding. It wasn’t significant enough to warrant a blood transfusion, but he’s weak and given the nature of the puncture wound there is concern for infection. But overall, he’s doing alright back there. Well, more than alright given that there is a blonde nurse back there making a fool of herself over him,” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “He’s very lucky. It could have been much worse,” she said, watching him as he nodded and returned her smile.

“Still his emergency contact? That’s gotta make you feel good,” he said with a smirk. She shrugged, but he could see the pride in her eyes. He nodded and stood up, glancing down at her. “Ready to go?” She nodded and stood to her feet.

“Good thing we never got to a hotel. Now we can just head home. I’m exhausted,” she sighed, walking toward the exit. He nodded and held the door open as they stepped to it, letting her walk out first.

“There is a commuter flight in an hour,” he told her as they walked to the car. She nodded with another sigh, and he smiled.

With their bags stored and seat belts on, they both relaxed back into the seats of their second flight as they waited for takeoff. Uncrossing her arms, Scully exhaled deeply. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she settled and sighed. He smiled and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

“Mulder,” she said, resting her hand over his leg and settling more comfortably against him as he moved to wrap his left arm around her. “Mm, you smell good.” He heard her say, causing him to smile. By the time they took off, they were both asleep.

Almost five hours later, they were heading to Mulder's car. Both had slept for the majority of the flight, only waking about twenty minutes before the plane touched down.

Mulder unlocked the door and put their bags inside before getting in the car and sitting down. “Should we get something to eat?” he asked as they put their seatbelts on.

“Hmm, how about we head to my place and call in some Chinese for an early dinner? I want to change out of these clothes,” she said with a sigh. “And take a shower.”

“Well, if you need help reaching your back, or anywhere else, you let me know,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows and a grin. She rolled her eyes but then held his gaze, her eyes landing on his lips before turning her head and looking out the window. He stared at her and then started the car.

It was a quiet drive to her place, not taking too long before they arrived. She took her bag out, unlocked the front door, and turned off the alarm. He shook his head at the technology involved just as he did every time he was over, which was not too often.

“Why is your house so much nicer than mine?” he asked, the same as he always did. She made a face at him and put her bag on the floor as he closed the door.

“I’m going to shower, you call in the food. The usual is fine with me." He watched her walk toward her room and sighed. After taking out his phone and placing their order, Mulder removed his shoes and walked around, looking at her place. Well, Alan’s place.

She had been there for almost two years. Alan had been asked to stay on where he was and since he and Scully were still in limbo, the additional time had worked in both Scully and Alan’s favor. Alan’s place was very well decorated and organized. Scully had not added much to it, save the alien cat pillow, a blanket or two, and some candles she enjoyed the scent of.

He was not sure if it made him glad or unnerved that she seemed to be in a constant state of simply existing in this space. As though she was waiting for something, but not sure what. Sighing, he left the living room and decided to light the candles and put them on the dining room table where they would be eating.

The doorbell rang not long after he had set the table. Grabbing his wallet, he opened the front door and paid for the food, thanking the delivery guy and closing the door. He set the bags of food on the table and went down the hall to Scully’s room.

“Food’s here,” he called, after knocking on the door.

“Great, I’ll be right out.” Came her muffled reply.

He walked back down the hall and began to take the containers from the bag, setting them out and opening them. His stomach growled and his mouth watered as he looked at it all. It all smelled so good, and he was starved, having not eaten all day, but he would wait for Scully.

He heard her bare feet on the floor coming toward him and inhaled sharply at the sight of her. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and she only wore a blue gray robe. He could tell she was not wearing anything on top as he could see her nipples through the robe, causing his mouth to water for an entirely different reason.

“This looks great, thanks for getting it ready. I’m starving,” she said, grabbing a container and sitting down. He continued staring at her until she glanced up at him with a frown. He reached for the other chair and sat down across from her.

They both piled food onto their plates and began to eat. Neither said anything as they did, both hungry and in need of sustenance. He handed her the box of egg rolls, and she handed him the spicy beef he liked. Only the sounds of contentment were heard as they ate their fill.

During the course of the meal, she took the towel off her head and shook her hair out, combing her fingers through it. He watched her as she did, smelling the scent of her shampoo, wanting to bury his nose in it. Her robe opened a little, enough to show the swell of her breast, and confirm his suspicions. She was definitely naked up top. The lower half though …

“I was thinking about Skinner while I was in the shower,” she said, grabbing the box of rice and adding more to her plate.

“Is that a normal occurrence?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. She shrugged and put some soy sauce on her rice.

“I mean, he’s a good looking man. You can’t blame a woman for wondering,” she said, not looking at him.

“Huh, is that right?” he asked in mock annoyance. She looked up at him and her eyes burned fire, making his dick stir. She continued staring before rolling her eyes and shoving a bite in her mouth, shaking her head as she chewed.

“Just wondering if he was okay. I’ll call him tomorrow,” she said, and he nodded. Her eyes roamed across his face and chest and he wondered what she was thinking. When she reached for another egg roll, her robe gaped open again, revealing more skin.

“Scully, I have to ask. Are you completely naked under that robe?” he finally asked her, no longer able to hide his curiosity.

“Dinner took about twenty minutes, and you didn’t ask once. I don’t feel you deserve an answer for at least that amount of time,” she said, sitting back and tightening her robe. She took a bite, raising her eyebrows at him, and he grinned.

“Is that right?” he asked again, in a completely different tone. Playful and teasing Scully was in control, and they both knew it.

“It is,” she said with a small smile of her own, taking another bite.

“Hmmm,” he said, brushing his hands together and wiping them on a napkin. “No answer for twenty minutes, that’s cold.” She shrugged with one shoulder, eating the rest of her egg roll, and smiling. “No answer, huh? Can I investigate?” Again she shrugged and acted nonchalant. He nodded and got up from his chair, pulling it to the end of the table and sitting to her left.

He stared at her, and she stared back. He looked at her from head to toe and reached for her chair, pulling hard and turning her toward him. Putting a hand on her knee, he opened her legs. She inhaled a breath and let it out. Holding the material of the robe between his fingers, he pulled, exposing her bare flesh. Moaning, he moved his hand up her leg, his fingers tracing the soft skin he found.

He left his chair to kneel down in front of her, knowing he would find her completely naked underneath. Both hands were on her satiny thighs when he heard her breathe his name. He looked up and watched her chest rising and falling, her eyes dark with desire.

“Am I getting warm?” he asked, his hands closer to her hips, finding no barriers to speak of. She sighed and scooted her body down in the chair. He smiled, taking his cue from her.

He opened her legs wider and her robe fell open showing how naked she truly was underneath. Her arousal was evident as he leaned in further, reaching to untie the belt of her robe.

“No,” she breathed, blocking his hands. “That’s cheating. You said investigate. Nowhere was it stated you could completely open a case.” He laughed softly as he moved his hands, conceding to her rules. His question had been answered and he was ready to claim his reward.

Soft kisses were laid on the tops of her thighs, while his fingers scratched lightly along the sides. She moved more and he could smell how aroused she was, and he ached to taste and be inside her.

His tongue ran along her thighs and she cried out, her hand going to his head, her fingers in his hair. Closer to his goal, he kissed and licked her sweet smelling skin, finally arriving where he would live if he was allowed.

He pulled her to the edge of her chair and opened her legs even wider, his mouth dropping to her center. She cried out again as he slowly made love to her with his mouth. Kissing, sucking, and licking her, he heard her cries and felt her legs squeezing against his head.

“Mulder, ohh my God,” she panted, her fingers pulling at his hair, her legs wrapping around him. “God, I’m gonna come. Ohhhhh Mulderrrrr.” Her fingers in his hair tightened, and she froze as her body spasmed, her legs tight around him as he continued using his mouth on her.

She relaxed her grip on him and her legs loosened on his shoulders. “Mmmmulder. My God. You are … so good at that. Mmmm,” she breathed out raggedly, her fingers running through his hair. He moved, kissing her thighs and sitting back on his knees. Looking up, he saw her eyes were closed, and her robe partially open, her breasts all but exposed.

He reached for the bow on the robe again, untying it, and staring at her breasts. She was so goddamn beautiful. He kissed her thighs again, and up her body, stopping at her breasts to give them some attention before making his way to her mouth. Languidly they kissed, her arms around his neck.

She pulled back and stared at him. “So, you found your answer?” she smirked at him. He kissed her again and pushed his groin into hers making her moan in his mouth.

“I’m a good investigator,” he said against her lips. She hummed and kissed him again, her tongue licking his lips.

“Really, really good,” she emphasized, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him closer, seething as he rubbed against her.

“Well, if you’re going to do something, you should always do your best,” he whispered in her ear, before pulling back and looking in her eyes. She smiled at him and rubbed her feet against him.

“Agree wholeheartedly. And it only seemed fair to keep you in your apparent state of torturous wondering, as you’ve been doing the same to me all day,” she said, her nails scratching at the base of his neck.

“Me? What have I done?” he inquired, genuinely perplexed.

“This tight white shirt, Mulder,” she whispered, her fingers sliding under the collar. “Goddamn, do you have any idea how hot you look in it? I’ve been wet since we were in Davey’s trailer.”

“Christ, Scully,” he groaned, his head landing on her neck as his knees buckled and he fell into her.

“I feel it’s best to be honest. And you have been making me crazy with desire all day. Only seemed fair that you got a taste of your own medicine,” she said, smirking to the degree that it could be heard.

“Oh, I got a taste all right,” he said into her neck before nipping at her skin. She yelped and pulled his hair, calling him a bastard. He chuckled and pulled back, looking at her with a grin. She shook her head and smiled.

“So what was your plan to ease the desire you were feeling? Aside from wearing this robe that I feel you should wear every day, just like this,” he said looking down at her naked body on display.

“Hmm, wouldn’t get much work done if I did, as I’d get arrested before I made it there,” she laughed.

“Who said anything about you going to work?” he asked with his eyebrows wiggling. She laughed again and stared at him, her eyes happy and full of love.

“You wondered about my plan?” she asked and he nodded, looking at this woman he loved so much, his ache for her was excruciating. “Well, you remembered to pack your bathing suit in your bag right?” He looked at her, confused, and she smiled a slow, sensual smile. “You remember there’s a hot tub here, right?”

Everything froze as he remembered the last time they had been in a hot tub. The house they rented for a weekend after a long month for her at the hospital. The tiny sapphire two piece suit she wore that night, the feel of her legs tangled with his under the water. The words she said in his ear as she climbed into his lap and his hand slid under the strings to untie her suit, her breasts then pressed to his chest. The way it felt to slide inside her, everything wet and warm around them, and yet she was the wettest and warmest thing he had ever felt.

“God, Mulder,” she groaned, breaking him from those memories. “Where did your mind go? You’re so much harder than a few seconds ago. Oh, Jesus.” She pushed into him and he groaned with her.

“Sapphire bathing suit, Scully. Your tongue in my ear, your breasts against my chest, the feel of you as you broke around me,” he growled in her ear and she whimpered. “If I forgot my suit, what will …”

“Jesus, Mulder, just move,” she cried, pushing him away and standing up unsteadily. She dropped her robe and he shook his head. God, she was so fucking beautiful.

She walked up to him and her hands went to the hem of his shirt, pulling at it and moving it up his chest. When she had it off of him, she put it on the table.

“This is mine now. I’m keeping it,” she informed him, her eyes daring him to say otherwise.

“Whatever you want, Scully,” he agreed, willing to do anything she asked of him.

“Be sure you buy more though,” she said, with a smile and an arch of her eyebrow.

“Oh, I’ve got them already. You think I don’t know? Do you even know me?” He grinned at her and she smacked his chest, her fingers trailing down to the waistband of his pants, then down to the bulge held within. She squeezed and he moaned.

“Oh, I know you. Let’s get these clothes off, no more fucking around,” she said squeezing him again.

“Well, some fucking around, surely,” he teased, getting his pants, socks, and boxers off, before standing up to look at her. She reached out and stroked him, making him gasp. His eyes closed as she quickened her strokes.

“Scully … you need to stop or I’m going to take you on this table,” he moaned as he stopped her hand. She grinned and moved her hand, taking his instead and pulling him toward the backyard.

No preamble, no denying exactly why they were coming outside, they climbed in the hot tub. Each of them hissing at the heat of the water, they sank down and he pulled her to him. She straddled him, his dick trapped between their bodies as she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her breasts pushing into his chest.

He dug his fingers into her hips and then down to her ass, lifting her up, silently asking her for what he wanted. She raised up, breaking from their kiss as she did. Up on her knees, she guided him inside her, causing them both to moan.

“Jesus, Scully,” he whispered and she hummed in agreement. “God, you feel so good.” She raised up again and began to ride him, his hands on her ass, helping her to move.

“Mulder, fuck,” she cried out, raising all the way up, forcing him to leave her body. They both groaned before she lined them up again, sinking down hard onto him. She went faster and he watched her breasts bouncing as she did.

“Mulder, oh my God,” she breathed, slowing down, sitting with him completely sheathed inside her, and he nearly came with the feel of her tight around him.

He moved a hand to touch her, his thumb on her clit, as she started to move again, gasping at his touch. He wanted her to come again, feeling his own orgasm building.

“Mulder, yes, keep doing that,” she moaned and slid faster up and down his length, making him moan her name. “God, I’m so close. Faster, Mulder.” He obliged her and she cried out as she fell into him, her hands gripping his shoulders, as she tightened and pulsed around him. He thrust into her hard, his feet pushing on the bottom of the hot tub, and he came calling her name.

They clung to each other as they recovered. He ran his hands up and down her back, into her hair, and back down. “Oh, Mulder,” she breathed into his neck, before raising her head and looking at him. He pushed her hair back from her face and grinned at her. She closed her eyes and tilted toward his hand.

She moved up and his softening member slipped from inside her, but she remained on his lap, her arms around his neck. He hummed as he wrapped his arms around her and they sat together in the warm water.

“God, Mulder,” she said again and he exhaled a laugh.

“I concur, Scully. I concur.”

They sat in the hot tub for a little bit longer before climbing out, both of them pink and flushed from both the water and the activities that had taken place while inside it. Realizing they brought no towels with them, they laughingly dripped and slid down the hall to her bathroom where they wrapped fluffy towels around themselves. He kissed her, a great big smacking loud one, as they walked out of the bathroom.

Together they cleared up the leftover Chinese food, blew out the candles, and washed the dishes. She turned out the lights and set the alarm, causing him to raise his eyebrows.

“Tight white t-shirt, remember? I’m not done with you yet,” she said as she grabbed the top of his towel, where it hung low on his hips, and pulled him toward her bedroom.

She made good on her word, she was most definitely not done with him. Hours later, exhaustingly sated, she snuggled into his arms. He held her close and closed his eyes. He kissed her temple, breathing in the scent from the shower they shared, the chlorine that still lingered, and the undeniable scent that was simply Scully. He took a deep breath and fell asleep, his body spent, but his heart full.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #X Files Novel #Kitten #Even more sexy sexy times #That tight white t-shirt #I swear to god #How could Scully not be thinking some very impure thoughts?#These two are just... hot hot hot.

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kellanved-ammanas · 4 years

Text

Christmas Invite

The writing portion of my Secret Santa for @kaitlyndjfox (Tumblr why won’t you let me tag her? >:/)

“Spy!” Demo greeted him with a smile and a small wave as soon as Spy answered the door.

“Good afternoon Demo,” Spy replied, stepping back to let him inside. “How are you?”

“Well… I’m trying to cut back on the whole drinking thing so… eh.” He shrugged as he flopped down into one of the chairs next to Spy’s tea table. “I been better, been worse too though so I guess I’ll live.”

“It’ll be better for you in the long run.” Spy was actually really proud of Demo for trying and so far doing pretty good at staying sober even if it wasn’t yet a longstanding commitment. Though it was longer than Spy’s return commitment to quit smoking.

Demo grunted, clearly displeased by the truth of that statement.

“Would you like some tea instead?” Spy asked, already retrieving the other tea cup from the little cabinet.

“Eh sure, why not? It’s better than nothing.”

Spy settled down on the other side of the table and poured the tea, topping his own cup off while he was at it. Demo took a long drink from his, almost finishing it before speaking.

“Christmas is coming up, you got any plans for it?”

“Nothing in particular.” Outside the team Christmas party, held the day before everyone got off and most of them left base, Spy hadn’t done anything substantial for Christmas in years. “Why?”

“Well I was thinking you could come home to Scotland with me if you want. Meet my mom and all that.”

They’d been dating for just shy of two months now. Surely that was too short a time to warrant an invite to visit Demo’s home country and meet his family. And well… it felt weird being in a romantic relationship again after so long being single. Spy still had so many secrets – not that Demo didn’t have any of his own but Spy’s entire job relied upon him being wrapped up in secrets – Demo didn’t even know what his face looked like yet or his real name. How could he possibly be committed enough to Spy to extend such an invitation?

But Spy couldn’t decline… could he? It’d be rude to and he didn’t want to despite his misgivings. … Unless Demo extended the invitation out of obligation, he perhaps expected and wanted Spy to decline. It was hard to know for sure. “Are you sure you’d want me there?” Spy asked before his hesitation could drag on too long.

“’Course, I do, why wouldn’t I?” Demo sounded and looked sincere. While he was capable and could be good at lying, he didn’t do so often so… he was being honest.

“Just… I don’t know. But I would love to got to Scotland with you for Christmas.”

Demo gave him a skeptical look, straightening a bit in his chair. “You don’t have to come if you don’t to. I won’t be offended or upset if you’d rather spend Christmas with your son or would prefer a bit of alone time.”

“No, I would like to go.” Spy cared about Demo and wanted this relationship to work even if there was a good chance it would fail. Without testing it, there was no way to know if their relationship would hold up outside their work environment. Were they ready to test it though? Especially over such a significant holiday? Demo seemed to want to but… why?

“But… I don’t know why you’d want me there,” Spy admitted, almost forcing the words out. A while ago, he’d made a commitment to be more honest with the people he cared most about in his life. It was hard but more often than not, when he actually did it instead of thinking about doing it and chickening out, it was for the better.

Demo’s eye widened; surprised by Spy’s honesty because of course he was. “I want you there ‘cause you’re my date-mate,” he said, quickly recovering. “You’re supposed to spend Christmas with the people you care about most and well, you’re one of the people I care about most.”

“Oh. … Thank you.” Well now Spy knew for sure that Demo was taking this relationship as seriously as he was. “But… even without knowing what my face looks like or what my real name is?” That was a justifiable problem for most people. And Spy had learned Demo’s real name a long time ago so it wasn’t the case that both their real names were secrets from each other.

“Eh,” Demo made a dismissive gesture. “Those things aren’t super important to who you are as a person. And I’m sure you’ll take your mask off and give me your name one day.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to huh?” Truthfully the thought hadn’t even crossed Spy’s mind to do so until now; it was too much of a habit to keep those things secret. But he wasn’t sure he was ready for that quite yet so… “Someday soon.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Demo said in a causal tone as if it wasn’t important. “But anyway, just to make sure, you coming home with me for Christmas? There’s no obligation to and you don’t got to show me your face or any of that before or while we’re there. You could go disguised as a sheet ghost the whole time and I wouldn’t care.”

“That won’t be necessary. Of course, I’ll go. I’ve always wanted to visit Scotland anyway. Thank you for inviting me.” And maybe he would reveal his name and face to Demo while they were, it would be a good time for it.

“Great! Mom’s either gonna love you or hate you, I ain’t sure which. I apologize for her in advance if it’s the latter.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” And… maybe it would be, regardless of how Demo’s mom felt about Spy. There was still the chance that things wouldn’t go well, that their relationship might fall apart when placed under such a pressure. But Demo seemed to think everything would be fine and he was one of the smartest people Spy had ever met. And they were both serious about this and cared for each other so… there was an even better chance that things would go well. They could only try their best to make it so and hope it worked.

#My Writing #Team Fortress 2 #TF2 #Demo/Spy #reassurance #Fluff #Christmas Fluff #TF2 Secret Santa 2019

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naruwitch · 4 years

Text

Code Geass: Paladins of Voltron Chapter 23: Zero’s Return

"You've found nothing?!" Viceroy Cornelia exclaimed, slamming her hands down on her desk and staring down the officers before her. Villetta Nu, Jeremiah Gottwald, Andreas Darlton, and her personal knight, Gilbert Guilford, all stood assembled before her in her office.

"Apologies, Viceroy," Jeremiah bowed deeply, "but we've searched everywhere! We've investigated Ashford Academy from top to bottom and closely interviewed every relative of each missing student."

"We even took the time to locate Ms. Stadtfeld's biological mother, who's currently being held for twenty years in the Area's prison for Refrain use. She knew nothing," Villetta reported. She remembered when they had revealed the news to Ms. Kozuki, who, they discovered, had no idea her daughter had gone missing until they had told her. The woman had just sat there in shock for almost five minutes as they continued to question her and then just suddenly broke down in tears. She was so incoherent that they were forced to cut their time short and have Kozuki escorted back to her cell.

Cornelia li Britannia tisked in disgust. The moment that she and Euphemia had recognized Lelouch's face on the news last month, she had spent every free moment that she had to try and locate them as soon as possible. They had contacted the media outlets but had ordered them to keep quiet about the recent break in the investigation, for fear that the Elevens could somehow use this to their advantage. If they located Lelouch and Nunnally first-

Cornelia squashed that thought before it could finish.

All other military and law enforcement that weren't on duty were tasked with assisting in finding the vi Britannia siblings at any cost. She even put the Purebloods to work, and they took it up faster than a dog to a bone. A week into the investigation, Villetta and Jeremiah both brought up Ashford Academy and requested to investigate the school. Cornelia had agreed and sent them with a warrant to search it. Even she had forgotten about the Ashford's connection to Lady Marianne and understood their logic of the siblings possibly hiding there. The school principal had tried to object, but there was little he could have done with a permit directly from the Viceroy herself. Though they didn't find anything, much to their dismay, their intuition to search there convinced Cornelia to promote them to the rank of Warrant Officers. It was nowhere close to what they both held before Zero rescued Suzaku, but secretly the two saw it as a sign that the Purebloods were slowly regaining the military's trust, so they humbly took the promotions.

Cornelia wasn't short-sighted, though. She knew that seven students spontaneously going missing, one of them being Suzaku Kurugui, was also a significant issue. Therefore, she also ordered for all of the families of the students to be investigated. Though she believed it was ultimately a longshot, a couple of clues could be unraveled in this way.

"Viceroy, if may…" Darlton spoke up grimly.

"What is it?" she asked.

"This thought occurred to me a while ago, but I haven't had the chance to bring it up. But, do you believe that Zero may be responsible for these abductions?"

"What?! Zero?! To think that he would sink this deep!" Jeremiah snarled from behind.

"I appreciate the concern Darlton," Cornelia said, "but I don't believe that theory is correct."

"Why is that Viceroy?" Guilford questioned.

"Well, think about it," she continued, "if Zero was really behind these kidnappings, and discovered that one of them was a member of the royal family, one believed to have been dead for years, don't you think we would've received some sort of ransom or bargain from him by now? Prince Lelouch and, consequently, Princess Nunnally, in exchange for Area 11. If I were Zero, I'd be a fool not to use them to my advantage."

"...I see your point, Viceroy," Darlton nodded, "I apologize."

"Enough," Cornelia sighed tiredly, "Other than a report on the investigation, I do have another matter to discuss with you all. I believe we may have found where both the JLF and the Black Knights are hiding."

This immediately grabbed the attention of everyone in the room.

"Pardon my suspicions, Viceroy, but what exactly makes you think that both of these factions are hiding together?" Villetta asked, "Considering the events of the hotel-jacking incident, and I highly doubt that the JLF will be eager to utilize the Black Knights in any of their operations."

"When cowards are cornered, they hide together," Cornelia sneered, "especially with how desperate the JLF has been as of late. We've managed to track them to the Narita mountains. Once we wipe them out there, any straggling rebels will fall shortly after."

"And even if the Black Knights aren't there, the largest insurgent group in Area 11 will still be eliminated," Guliford realized.

"That is correct," Cornelia nodded, "However, should it be confirmed that the Black Knights are also there, and Zero with them, bring him to me alive. I will question him myself."

'And once Zero's taken care of, nothing will stop me from finding you and Nunnally, Lelouch. And I will. It's not like you vanished off the face of the planet.'

o~o

The first thing that the Castle spotted upon exiting the wormhole was the plain grey surface of Earth's moon. Upon applying the coordinates, Lelouch, dressed entirely in his Zero costume but currently without his mask, ordered for the Castle to not land on Earth's moon, but to hover just outside of its atmosphere (not that it had one). By hiding within the moon's shadow, not only should it conceal them from Earth below, but none of the long-range satellites should pick them up either.

On the bridge, each Paladin sat up tall behind each of their posts, screens and scans pulled up in front of them.

"Here we are," Kallen said, a slight layer of nervousness in her tone, "Alteans, welcome to Earth."

"Hmmm… quaint," Coran commented upon first glance. From above, out in space, Earth bore a very similar resemblance to Arus, though he doubted that the planet was that primitive.

"Lelouch, you know I trust you, but are you sure this is a good idea?" Rai spoke up, "I mean, Ulaz said there was a chance Zarkon was tracking us. If that's true, we basically just brought him right to our front door."

Lelouch glanced over at Rai, "I appreciate the concern Rai, and I am fully aware of how heavy of a risk this is. However, considering how close Earth is to the Galran border and the rate that the Empire is expanding, an attack on our planet is only inevitable, just as Allura informed us of our first week here. I believe it would be no more than a couple years before the Galra actually came and attacked."

"That's kind of scary when you think about it like that…" Rivalz commented with wide eyes.

"Yeah…" Shirley agreed.

"Indeed," Lelouch nodded, "Also, we've been gone for far too long. Both Voltron and Zero must prepare Earth's defenses as soon as possible."

"Makes sense," Suzaku said.

"I agree," Milly nodded, "the longer we delay this, the less time Earth has to be ready for an invasion."

"At this point, our faces have likely been leaked to the media," Lelouch noted, "Seven Ashford Academy students going missing out of the blue. I highly doubt that we haven't been on national coverage by now."

"Okay, but what's so bad about that?" Rivalz asked.

Lelouch turned to face them, a grim line on his lips, "It means that from here on out, our identities will be our most valuable possession. So we must protect them no matter what. No one on Earth must know the identities of the Paladins of Voltron… and that includes family."

This statement was, predictably, met with shouts of protest.

"Wha-wait Lelouch, are saying we can't contact our families?!" Rivalz exclaimed, horrified.

"No way! My mom and dad are probably worried, sick!" Shirley added, "And I can't even talk to them?!"

"I understand if this is hard," Lelouch said before more protests could erupt, "but think about it. If Britannia finds out who you are, that could put your family in danger as well. You should already know that the Empire will stoop to endangering its own citizens for their own goals."

This reasoning quieted the rest of the team down as they realized that Lelouch was right. After all, the Emperor had used two of his own children as bargaining tools and then threw them away after Japan was conquered. Plus, it was also likely that the only reason Shirley and Milly were spared in the hotel-jacking was due to Princess Euphemia's presence. The Viceroy wouldn't risk her sister's life but had it only been them, and they wouldn't have been surprised if they were killed as well, just to take down the JLF that overtook the building.

"Suzaku," Lelouch turned to face the Purple Paladin, "this must be the absolute case for you, especially."

"Huh? Why?" Suzaku questioned.

"Well, when you compare this situation to the one where you were falsely accused of Prince Clovis's murder, it could stand on equal footing in a legal sense. Or at least according to Britannia," Lelouch explained with a scowl, "If it's discovered that you are actively opposing them as a Paladin, they could still use you as a pariah and start grinding down on the Japanese population. I doubt the Purebloods will let such an opportunity like that slide from their grasp."

"I...I guess that makes sense," Suzaku admitted sadly.

"Anyone else have any objections?" Lelouch asked and received shakes from all of the Paladins.

"Alright then," he sighed in relief, "Our first step will be to locate where the Black Knights are."

"Assuming that there are Black Knights anymore!" Kallen spoke up gravely.

"...I trust that Ohgi didn't do anything too stupid in our absence," Lelouch said, hoping he sounded reassuring.

"Wait, Lelouch, we're getting the Black Knights first?" Rivalz asked.

"Yeah, to honest Lulu, I'd have thought you'd want to fly down and whisk Nunnally up here immediately!" Milly added.

"I'm not completely concerned with Nunnally's safety at the moment," he replied calmly and continued before anyone could protest. "When we enrolled at Ashford, I had a safe house set up far away from it for us to retreat to should our identities ever get exposed. Sayoko should have Nunnally secured there right now. I trust her with my life."

'And hopefully has that with her as well…'

o~o

"We're certain the Japan Liberation Front's headquarters are in his area," Darlton explained on board the Viceroy's transport, pointing at a map on the table before them, "we've already split four battalions into seven units and hidden them within the vicinity. We've only to wait for the Viceroy's signal, and then we'll surround them in one fell swoop and wipe them out."

"And we're confident the enemy isn't outside of the encirclement line?" Guilford questioned.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Darlton said, "as the operation begins, we'll be blocking off the surrounding highways and mountain roads as well."

"Plus, we have reserve units," Cornelia herself added from her throne in the center of the room. "If Zero or the Black Knights are actually stupid enough to show up, it'll be the end of them."

Suddenly a transmission showed on the screen of the battlefield. In full view of it was the Knight of Nine herself, Nonette Enneagram, smirking at the screen.

"You sure you won't need any help from me on my end, Nelly?" she asked playfully.

Cornelia frowned and addressed the knight strictly but still with respect, "I can handle this battle myself, Nonette, though I appreciate the concern."

Nonette laughed, "Well, just don't get a big head out there, okay Corny?"

The Princess's eyebrow twitched, but despite her irritation, she kept her composure in front of the other officers.

"I'll make a note," she said tartly before promptly ending the transmission.

Cornelia sighed and leaned back in her throne slightly, "Damn that woman."

Guilford glanced over at his Princess in surprise and glanced at Darlton. He simply gave him a look that said, 'don't ask.'

o~o

Nonette sighed dramatically from her seat in the resting Lancelot. Goodness, little Nelly was way too uptight sometimes.

Ever since Suzaku's disappearance, Nonette volunteered to be the test pilot for the Lancelot until he could be found. And she had to admit, and the Lancelot was by far the best Knightmare Frame she had ever piloted. If all continued to go well, she might just request to have a separate model made for her own personal use.

Aboard the Camelot Division transport, Lloyd, Cecile, and Princess Euphemia were also present. After Suzaku disappeared, Euphie seemed to want to stubbornly stay close to the Camelot Unit. Her sister gave little objection to this arrangement, especially during battle, as the Camelot was only called upon to attack as a last resort. If it were to be attacked, Cornelia trusted Nonette to keep Euphemia safe.

As the Princess watched the others work, she couldn't shake the strange feeling blossoming in her gut, but she couldn't understand why she felt like this.

"Here, Sub-Viceroy," Cecile said, offering Euphie a cup of tea, "this should help calm the nerves."

"Thank you," Euphie accepted with a smile.

"You know, Sub-Viceroy, I'm still wondering why exactly you're here in an irregular unit. I would've thought you'd want to stay close to your sister," Cecile said.

"Well, I wanted to get to know the people that Suzaku had been working with, that's all," Euphie explained.

"Wanting to understand your boyfriend a little better, do you?" Nonette asked mischievously as she walked over.

Euphie squeaked in embarrassment, ducking her head as her cheeks began to color crimson.

The Knight of Nine then put a gentle hand on her shoulder, causing the Princess to look up, "Don't worry. We'll find Kururgi, and your brother and sister."

'As well as you, Prince Zephyr,' she added mentally.

As Nonette continued to console Euphemia, Cecile made her way over to Lloyd to speak with him about the upcoming battle. She stopped in her tracks when she saw what the Earl was viewing on his monitor.

It was a video of that mysterious Blue Lion Knightmare that disappeared over two months ago.

"Lloyd, don't you think you're developing an obsession with that thing?" Cecile scolded and sat down beside him, "It's almost like you're not worried about Suzaku at all!"

"Oh, don't get the wrong idea," Lloyd answered, "While Ms. Enneagram is a useful devicer for the Lancelot, she's certainly no Suzaku. Plus, it's not every day that you get to see a Knightmare that can fly and then just vanish off the face of the Earth, completely without a trace."

Cecile sighed and shook her head, seeing that there was no point in arguing further. Lloyd leaned forward and clasped his hands thoughtfully.

'Now, where are you, my little blue kitty cat?'

o~o

Rai couldn't help but laugh at how easy it was to hack into Britannia's military communications network. Compared to the Galra, it was like comparing a high tech MMORPG game to Pac-Man.

What he saw, however, extinguished any other form of humor in his system.

"Everyone, listen to this!" he exclaimed, pulling the data and recordings up on the screen.

"All units are in position!"

"Understood. Provide logistical support from the G1 as planned. Be sure to command the medical unit appropriately."

Lelouch narrowed his eyes at the all too familiar voice on the other end.

"Who was that, Lelouch?" Allura asked, noticing the Black Paladin's expression.

"...That was Cornelia li Britannia," Lelouch responded, pressing some buttons on his control panel and pulling up a picture of his sister onto the main screen, "my older half-sister and the current Viceroy of Japan, or Area 11 as Britannia likes to call it. Due to her unrivaled patriotism and fierceness on the battlefield, she's earned the nickname 'the Goddess of Victory.' When it comes to strategy, however, here skills are only just above average, but she's still a hardened warrior and has never lost a single battle, hence her moniker."

Allura glared narrowly at the Viceroy's image. So this was who was suppressing these people. How disgraceful.

"Hey, uh, Lelouch?" Rivalz asked, suddenly sounding awkward, "Out of curiosity, how many siblings do you actually have?"

Lelouch couldn't help but chuckle at the Blue Paladin's question, "Well, you already know that Nunnally is my only full-blooded sibling. As for half… well, considering my father has taken over a hundred consorts ("a hun-what?!" Shirley squeaked), I honestly never really took the time to count."

Coran, in particular, looked quite shocked by this revelation, "Um, if I might ask, is it standard custom on your planet to have multiple partners in marriage?"

"No!" all of the Paladins exclaimed almost as one.

"Well…" C.C. said a couple of seconds later, "Honestly, the number of wives a man can have usually depends on the region of Earth you inhabit. Some cultures do see polygamy as common practice."

"Yeah, and there are also some humans that prefer open relationships in general. It just depends on the people in that specific relationship," Milly added.

"Hmmm… fascinating," Coran hummed, twirling his mustache.

"Anyway!" Lelouch proclaimed, wanting to desperately change the topic he pulled a map onto the Castle's screen, "This is an area called the Narita Mountains. The Japan Liberation Front's headquarters are rumored to be stationed either in or close by this area. From the look and sound of things, Cornelia fully intends to wipe them in one large wave today. It looks like the Britannians have surrounded the mountains, so there will be little to no escape for the JLF at this rate. We can't allow that to happen. Should the JLF fall, one of the largest resistance groups in Japan will be destroyed."

"...So, what do we do?" Shirley asked.

"Our first objective remains the same. Locate the Black Knights. Once we do, Kallen, it will be your job to escort them to the Castle of Lions safely."

"Me?" Kallen asked.

"You shouldn't sound surprised, you're the only one for the job," Lelouch said, "The other Paladins, including myself, are Britannian, and though Suzaku is Japanese, he's made his status as an Honorary Britannian quite clear."

"Wait, why can't you just get them, Lelouch? You're technically still their leader," Rai asked.

"That may be true, but I've only known the Black Knights for a short amount of time, and I don't believe I've fully earned their trust as of yet. All I am is simply a masked figure, who mysteriously disappeared just as suddenly as he appeared."

"Wait, Lulu, the Black Knights, don't know your real identity?" Shirley asked, quite shocked.

"Well think about Shirley," C.C. said with an indifferent look, "A Britannian prince leading a rebellion comprised of people who have been oppressed by the same empire. How do you think that would go?"

"Oh, good point," Shirley admitted, slightly embarrassed.

"Speaking of identities though, Lelouch, if we're going to involve the Black Knights in this, you'll have to reveal who you are to them at least," Suzaku said, "and about your Geass. If they find out about that and what it does from a different source, I can see them drawing some pretty messed up conclusions about it."

"I intend to reveal myself and Geass in due time, but seeing Voltron is going to be overwhelming enough for the time being," Lelouch said. "Anyway, since Kallen's the one that has been in the rebel's company even longer than I have, she's the only logical pick to retrieve them. Because of that, they trust her, and they'll listen to her."

Kallen nodded with a determined look on her face, "I understand."

'Hang on, Ohgi! I'm coming!'

"Also, Rai, considering Zerith's invisibility ability, I want you to drop multiple BLIP sensors around the battlefield. We'll use those to try and locate the Black Knights, should they be in Narita. While you're doing that, we shall hold back the Britannian forces in the other Lions."

"I can do that," Rai agreed.

"Once Kallen retrieves the Black Knights and drops them off at the Castle, we'll form Voltron and decimate the rest of Cornelia's army," Lelouch finished.

"Decimate?" Shirley asked, eyes widening.

"Uh… yeah, Lelouch, I understand wanting to make a big show out of Voltron, but is it really necessary to wipe the whole army out?" Rivalz asked.

"Yeah, that's a bit overkill, isn't it?" Milly asked.

Lelouch let a small smile creep onto his face, "Hmhm, that's the idea."

Most of the Paladins, even Allura and Coran, looked at Lelouch in near shock. But the idea was to simply scare Britannia, not-

"If we show Voltron and demonstrate how it can not only rivals but surpasses Britannia, it might just be enough to get them to stand down and listen to us, which in turn will make it easier to prepare a defense against the Galra."

"And if they don't?" Rai asked.

"What do you mean 'if they don't'?" Suzaku turned to the Green Paladin.

"Er-hypothetically speaking, I mean," Rai amended.

"'Hypothetically speaking,'" Lelouch said with a hint of sarcasm, "if that turns out to be the case, then Voltron's first course of action will simply be to liberate Japan from Britannia, the hard way."

Allura and Coran, who had barely said anything throughout the entire strategy meeting, couldn't help but once again be amazed at Lelouch's genius planning. If all went according to plan, things were sure to end in Voltron's favor.

Allura made a mental note never to go head to head with Lelouch in battle if they ever, for some absurd reason, became enemies. She wouldn't stand a chance.

"Hey, hold on a second," Rivalz suddenly said, "Why are we even wasting our time here in Japan? If you want my personal opinion, I say we fly Voltron straight to Pendragon right now and knock the Emperor off his high-horse!"

"That's a terrible idea," Lelouch deadpanned immediately. "If the whole of Britannia were to fall due to such actions, all other nations, including the E.U. and the Chinese Federation, will lash out at each other and fight to try and fill the power void that Britannia will ultimately leave behind. The world would spiral into further chaos, making it that much easier for the Galra to overpower Earth's current defenses."

"Hmmm, the divided nature of your planet that you continue to describe is quite primitive. Er-no offense, of course," Coran quickly apologized, realizing that he had spoken that thought aloud.

"None taken," all of the humans, C.C. included, said in unison.

"Excuse me, Lelouch, may I make a small point," Allura spoke up.

"What is it?" Lelouch asked.

"While I understand your reasoning in your strategy, I don't believe freeing one country at a time on your planet would be very efficient," she explained. "It would simply take far too long to unite everyone in this way."

"That is true. Going around and freeing civilizations one by one would be a waste of time. However, there is a way to easily speed it up as well," Lelouch smirked.

"How so?" Allura asked, intrigued.

"I don't know if the same thing applied to Altea, but on Earth, whenever a person does something, big or small, the first thing they always expect to receive is results, be they good or bad."

Suzaku flinched slightly at this proclamation. He remembered arguing with Zero/Lelouch on this very same point months ago after he had been rescued from his execution. Even now, he still didn't totally agree with such a mindset, but he was wise enough to see that voicing it wouldn't help at the moment. So he remained silent.

"If we manage to free even one country, even if it's a small one, others not against Britannia will begin to rally behind us. We may even be able to convince some people from Britannia itself to join our cause. Although, if you want my honest opinion," Lelouch looked down for a moment, "I don't believe my father will be too cooperative in any case. He's not exactly the most open-minded individual you'll meet."

"I see," Allura realized, "it's the same strategy you implemented at the Balmera. When you revealed our victory over the astral conflux, we heard that many other rebel factions began to fight back on their own."

"Exactly. Sometimes the most effective strategies are the most overlooked, and often the simplest of actions can bring a tsunami of trouble to the enemy."

"Who said that?" Milly asked.

"I did," Lelouch chuckled before turning serious again. "One more thing. Before we begin our assault, there's something I must confirm with all of you."

All of the other Paladins looked at Lelouch, confused. What could be so important that he would bring it up now?

"I already know that you are completely on board with this Kallen, but as for the rest of you, you realize that once this begins, you'll essentially become traitors to your own country, even you Suzaku, though you're only an Honorary Britannian. I need to know now if you are fully committed to this. I don't want to sound like I doubt any of you, but as I said when this all started, I won't force you to do anything against your will. So if you don't want to take part in this, this is your chance to say so."

There was a pause among everyone. Lelouch did bring up a point. Once this was over, there would likely be no turning back.

However…

"Lulu, I may be Britannian, but I'm also a Paladin of Voltron," Shirley said first, a closed fist raised. "A person that protects those who can't protect themselves! What Britannia is doing is wrong, I understand that now. A-And, I trust you! No matter what, I'm with you!"

Milly started laughing, good-heartedly, "Wow! Nice going, Shirley! Couldn't have said it better myself!"

"Yeah!" Rivalz nodded before his eyes lit up, "Oh, that's right! We never told Lelouch about our promise!"

"Your promise?" Lelouch asked. Suzaku, C.C., Kallen, Allura, and Coran also looked curiously at the four Paladins.

"Yeah," Rai nodded, "back at that universal station, Milly, Rivalz, Shirley, and I had some time to talk about what had happened. Not only about Voltron, but also about what you told us. And we made a vow, right there in that central control station, that we would stand by you and Nunnally, Lelouch, no matter what happens! We're Defenders of the Universe, and that means we stand against all tyranny, not just the Galra!"

Lelouch gasped. He had had no knowledge of this vow ever taking place, and the fact that the four had made it touched him. He smiled graciously at them, eyes shining with tears.

"A Warrior's Bond," Coran murmured off to the side.

"Huh? A what?" Kallen asked.

"A Warrior's Bond. That's what we call such vows on Altea. The very first Paladins carried such a bond as well… for a long time," Coran said sullenly. No one needed to ask what he meant by 'for a long time.'

Lelouch then turned to the final Paladin. He could only imagine how hard this might be for Suzaku. But he would remain true to his word. He wasn't going to force Suzaku to follow him. Never.

Suzaku was currently lost within his own thoughts. During his time fighting alongside Lelouch and the other Paladins, it had given him a lot of time to think about things, particularly about Britannia itself. Suzaku wasn't a fool; he knew that Britannia was far from perfect, and could see undeniable parallels it shared with the Galra Empire. He understood that Britannia could quickly become like the Galra if nothing were done to change it, and he still hoped that an internal change was possible. However, he had also learned some valuable lessons as a Paladin, and one of them was that despite the situation, facts simply had to be acknowledged. And one indisputable fact right now was that if Earth remained as divided as it did, they wouldn't stand a chance when the Galra arrived.

Plus, despite all of Lelouch's flaws, he proved that he was a reliable and competent leader and did show that he cared for their well-being above all else. Because of this, he had chosen to take a chance and trust him, and so far, it seemed to have paid off.

So why shouldn't he trust him now?

"Lelouch, you're my friend, I'll always be here for you and Nunnally no matter what," he looked up at his friend with a smile, "I'm with you. One hundred percent."

An honest smile graced Lelouch's lips at this proclamation, "Thank you, Suzaku." With a final nod, he lifted his mask to his face, "Paladins, to your Lions!"

"Hell yeah! Time to kick Britannia's a.s.s!" Rivalz shouted with a jump, causing everyone to laugh before retreating to their Lions.

Before he descended in his elevator, Zero turned to C.C., "C.C., remain here, and expect some visitors very soon."

"I understand," C.C. smiled as she watched Zero sink below to the Black Lion's chambers, "Now… let the games begin."

o~o

"Right, commence the operation!" Cornelia shouted as her Gloucester was launched out of the G1.

Behind her, all of her subordinates launched and followed her up the mountain.

"You, the Japan Liberation Front; you who time has left behind; you who have forgotten basic human decency. You and your dream of a bygone golden age shall fall and rot to nothingness," Cornelia whispered in disgust at the JLF and their cowardly tactics.

o~o

"We're under enemy attack?!" General Katase cried out as he stepped into the war room of their base within the mountains.

"Yes sir, the Britannian forces have completely encircled the Narita Mountains. We counted over a hundred units," one of the rebels informed him.

"We're completely surrounded, and our underground reserve forces were captured all at once," another cried.

"General Katase, we've received a message from Cornelia's forces demanding our surrender," another exclaimed.

"Imbecile! If we fall here, then we've lost, and the whole resistance movement falls with us."

"But General, do we engage the enemy in battle? Or do we dig in?"

"What about Todoh? Where is he?" Katase asked.

"He's gone to Kyoto to get the custom Burais. The Four Holy Swords are traveling with him too, along with another to receive the Guren Mrk II."

"Then we're on schedule. He should be returning soon," Katase said with a small bit of relief. "Todoh will make it in time. Prepare to bring out the Burais. We'll break out of the circle on one side and evacuate. We'll show them the Japanese spirit and pride. This is our moment of truth!"

o~o

From another area of the mountain, one may even call it the rear line, several other Burai with a familiar symbol etched into them lay in wait for commands.

"Come on! Why isn't the JLF ordering us to attack already?" Tamaki whined.

"Probably because they don't trust us, and we're simply the last resort," Sugiyama said, though his voice had a trace of annoyance as well.

"Ohgi, are you sure this was a good idea?" Inoue asked their second in command.

"If you want my honest answer, no, I don't," Ohgi replied honestly, "but we couldn't just do nothing when we were informed about this. I'm sure that Zero would've done the same. He wouldn't let one of Japan's biggest resistance groups fall like this."

Despite his proclamation, Ohgi honestly wasn't too sure anymore himself. For the past two months, any attempt to contact Zero had been met with radio silence. Several newer members of the Black Knights began to believe that Zero had gone and abandoned them, but something in Ohgi's gut was telling him that that wasn't the case. This meant that Zero had either been captured or was planning something that required the other Black Knights not to know about it. Neither option sat well with him, but they were the only explanations he could think of.

There was also the fact that he had still not heard from Kallen yet either. Ever since she was officially pronounced missing, he had been using every spare moment he had trying to find some clue as to where she could have gone. It wasn't like her to simply disappear like this. The police and investigators were in a frenzy, trying to find clues. But nothing pointed to where Kallen or the other students could have gone. It's like they just vanished into thin air.

Plus, the fact that both Kallen and Zero disappeared around the same time disturbed Ohgi too. He had brought this concern up to the other Black Knights, and they thought it was strange as well, though Tamaki's comment of the two of them being somewhere 'sitting in a tree' wasn't necessary!

Despite this, when the BK received an anonymous tip about the Britannians attacking the JLF headquarters, he knew they couldn't just sit back and do nothing. He knew Zero wouldn't have anyway. So when they had contacted the JLF to inform them of the attack, they had agreed to work with them, temporarily. That had resulted in the BKs taking up this rear line by the mountain where they currently were.

From the sound of outside, the battle was beginning. It would only be a matter of time before the Britannians broke through.

Ohgi just hoped he had made the right call.

o~o

From within the Camelot Division, Nonette was explaining the battle plan to Euphemia, hoping it would put her at ease with her sister being on the front lines.

"The enemy's main base is around here," she pointed at an electronic map, similar to the one in the G1, "but it hasn't been pinpointed yet. Until a list is obtained from their collaborators, we can't burn down everything with the aerial bombing. As of right now, the enemy should be engaging the encirclement and will try to break through it. From there, we will be able to ascertain where their base is located. The main forces are divided into three fronts: the units led by General Darlton here," she pointed at the east side of the mountain, "General Alex here," she pointed to the middle, "And our little Nelly here," she pointed to the west, "As for the flanking forces…"

Suddenly, the Camelot Unit was greeted with the shock of the map's image becoming garbled.

"Enemy ECM," Nonette said with a frown. That only meant one thing. The battle had begun.

o~o

"The main enemy force should be coming out anytime now. We're switching to ECCN mode on channel Alpha four," Darlton smirked as he and his unit began to ascend the mountain, "The enemy, what are we calling them again?"

"Burais, sir."

"Right, they're rather like pseudo-Glasgows, so watch out for them."

"Yes, my Lord."

o~o

"How clever, they turned this mountain into a fortress," Cornelia commented sarcastically as Burais emerged from a hidden elevator covered by trees.

"Your Highness, please fall back."

"Guilford, please don't treat me as I'm another one of your women," Cornelia then shot forward in her Glasgow.

"It's…Cornelia!" A JLF soldier shouted.

"Don't panic! Take out the leader!" The three aimed their rifles and shot at Cornelia recklessly.

"Insolent worms!" Cornelia shouted as she evaded the bullets and swung her lance, knocking all three of them down.

She then plunged her lance into the nearest Burai, lifting it above her head and watched as it exploded. Cornelia snorted in disgust at how pathetic the pilots were performing.

Guilford fired a slash harken at a nearby turret, "Right, well, then I'll cover you from the rear."

Cornelia smirked as she glanced back at her knight before looking up at the mountain. "Well, Cornelia is here! Is there no one who can challenge me?"

o~o

"The enemy seems to be concentrated over here. This may be the target. Split up now!" Darlton commanded.

Just as the Knightmares began to do so, however, several blue lasers rained down from the sky, completely demolishing Darlton's squad.

"What?!" Darlton shouted in a mix of shock and horror.

"YAHOO!" Rivalz shouted in glee, and Polaris roared smugly with him as the Blue Lion in all of her glory landed smack in front of Darlton and his forces.

"Th-That's!" Darlton exclaimed, recognizing the Lion Knightmare from two months ago. They had never been able to relocate it after they initially spotted it. And now, here it was once again, standing between him and JLF's entrance.

Polaris let out yet another loud roaring cry, staring down at the Britannian Knightmares in front of her.

Acting instinctively, Darlton, followed by the rest of his squad, immediately open fired upon the Lion, but to their amazement, the bullets didn't even seem to dent the Lion's metal.

"Yo, dudes! Chill out!" Rivalz shouted with a smirk as he pushed his controls forward, and Polaris's mouth opened to unleash a giant blast of icy firepower.

Darlton managed to drive his Knightmare out of the way, but several others were unable to move fast enough and were soon found frozen solid, their pilots still trapped inside.

"F-Fall back!" Darlton orders, a fearful, foreign emotion in his tone. As his squadron began to retreat, he quickly pulled up his communication link with the Viceroy, "Viceroy Cornelia! Th-That Knightmare, the Lion, from two months ago. It's here!"

o~o

"WHAT?!" Cornelia exclaimed this message shocked her enough that her Knightmare staggered.

"V-Viceroy!" a soldier from another squadron cried out, "There's another one! But this one's yellow!"

"A large Red Lion Knightmare just landed by our squad, Viceroy!" Lord Kewell exclaimed, "It's wiping us out!"

"Wh-"

"Princess! Watch out!" Guilford shouted from behind. That was her only warning before a large black lion Knightmare, landed heavily right in front of her Knightmare and the rest of her platoon.

"Viceroy! Please get back!"

From inside of Zenobia, Lelouch couldn't help but smirk, "Hello Cornelia," he didn't turn on outside communications, so his sister didn't hear his greeting. He wouldn't want to spoil the surprise after all.

o~o

Back at the G1 unit and the Camelot Division, the rest of the forces were shocked to hear the reports of the Lions landing on the battlefield. From the look of things on the screen, the Knightmares were receiving little to no damage while their forces were practically getting wiped off the map.

Lloyd, in particular, was practically vibrating in his chair, eyes sparkling in excitement. This was the moment he'd been waiting for!

o~o

"Don't just stand there! Attack!" Kewell shouted and charged quite recklessly at the Red Lion.

"Okay, are you guys that stupid?!" Kallen shouted as Aka's claw slammed down on the Knightmare, and it erupted into flames below.

"Lord Kewell!" Villetta shouted in horror.

"Fight to the death!" Jeremiah shouted in rage, leveling his gun at the Lion.

The other Knightmares stayed back, trying to fire with their guns.

"We're not making even a dent on it!" Villetta shouted.

Kallen sat casually in Aka, almost with a bored expression. "I know Lelouch said to dial down on casualties, but…" her hand laid down almost lazily on the controls and slid the handle forward.

Aka's mouth clicked open, and a stream of flame shot out, surrounding the Pureblood's unit in a ring of fire.

"What?!" Jeremiah shouted, frantically looking around at the flames.

"Lord Jeremiah! We have to pull back now!" Villetta shouted.

"No! I won't be mocked like this!" he shouted stubbornly.

Villetta grunted and then shoved Jeremiah's Sutherland away from the approaching fire.

"What are you-?!"

"We need to get out here!"

Before Jeremiah could protest further, Villetta, along with the few Purebloods that were still mobile, drove off from the scene.

"Serves you Purebloods right," Kallen spat though with a smug grin on her face, "Now Ohgi, where are you at?"

o~o

Despite reports of the Lions landing around the battlefield, there was still one that had not been reported. His cloaking shield up, Rai and Zerith flew stealthily around the mountain and forest, dropping BLIP sensors every place that seemed reliable. He laughed when one of them hit the top of a Knightmare, and once it hit the ground and activated, the machines quickly made themselves scarce.

He dropped the last sensor near the top of the Narita Mountain. Considering the range that the sensors usually had, that one should pick up on every lifeform, whether human or not, in and around the mountain.

"Alright! All sensors are on the ground!" Rai reported as he finally dropped his shield and zoomed to a stop right in front of a group of Sutherlands.

o~o

"Update!" another officer shouted through the Castle's hacked link, "Another one! A green one!"

With the report that all the BLIPs had been delivered, Allura pulled up a full map of the mountain range below.

"Alright, I have the positions of all humans down below," Allura informed the Paladins.

"There is one small hiccup, though," Coran added, "Despite knowing the positions, there's no way to tell which of them are these Black Knights that you're looking for."

o~o

"We'll figure it out later. Keep us updated!" Lelouch shouted as Zen swung her tail, knocking several of the Knightmares back and into trees.

"Open fire!" Cornelia ordered from down below. Some of the Gloucesters even fired small missiles at the Black Lion, but none had any effect on it whatsoever.

"The material the Lions are made from will never cease to amaze me," Lelouch said with a grin as he reclined slightly in his pilot chair. He laughed almost sinisterly, "Not so fun being on the receiving end for once, isn't it, dear sister?"

Cornelia seemed to register that the gunfire was having no effect and changed tactics. She hefted her lance and charged straight towards the lion aiming for one of the joints.

"Princess Cornelia!" Guilford shouted in warning. Cornelia didn't see what was happening until it was too late as the Black Lion's massive paw shot upwards and slammed down on the front of her Gloucester. She was pinned down, the Black Lion's head hanging over her, like she was a mouse it was curiously inspecting.

"Princess!" Guilford gasped before stopping short to barely avoid a laser shot from the Black Lion's tail. He and the rest of the squad stopped short as the tail raised, charging to fire again.

Though the Viceroy refused to admit it aloud, she was indeed quite frightened, the bright yellow eyes of the monstrous Knightmare glaring down at her.

The Black Lions jaws suddenly snapped downwards, around her golden lance. She heard Guilford and the other soldiers shout in horror as this was happening. Her lance was ripped from her Gloucester's hands and snapped into pieces with a single flex of its jaws.

Finally, with what sounded like a disgusted snarl, the Lion released her and, with a swift turnabout, flicked its tail, slamming it into Guilford and her other subordinates. With yells, they slammed hard into the trees behind them.

She pulled on the controls but realized that Lion's claw had done more damage than she thought as she couldn't lift herself up.

"You!" she snarled as, to her fury, the Lion began to strut slowly away before it shot back up into the sky.

The Goddess of Victory roared in a fury! Not only was this her first actual defeat, but to receive such disrespect, such audacity! Whoever was inside that Knightmare, once she got her hands on them, they would wish they had never been born!

As she watched it disappear behind the trees, all she could do was scream furiously.

o~o

"What's happening?!" General Katase demanded.

"We're not sure, sir! Several highly advanced Knightmares appeared out of nowhere! From the looks of things, they're tearing the Britannian army to pieces!"

"They're holding them back?!" Katase asked.

"Yes! Nothing that's thrown at them is working!"

o~o

"Zero, five more human signatures are approaching the battlefield from the south," Allura suddenly informed him from the Castle.

"Five more? At what speed?" he asked.

"They appear to be moving at roughly the same speed as those other Knightmare machines."

"The JLF must have sent for back up," Lelouch muttered, "I don't think we need to worry about them. The JLF know we're not an enemy right now."

o~o

"All units, are you ready?" Todoh questioned seriously.

"Yes, sir!" the Four Holy Swords and their guest proclaimed.

"All right. Deploy the Guren and Custom Burais!"

"Deploying!"

The top of the trucks opened up and six Knightmare Frames, five resembling Burais, and the sixth one was a larger red Knightmare with its right arm significantly longer than its left, with a large silver contraption attached to it.

"Listen carefully, if these Lions are on our side, they should allow us time to help the General evacuate! But we must understand the situation first! Until we do, attack from all sides!" Colonel Tohdoh Kyoshiro ordered.

"YES, SIR!" the five soldiers shouted as they charged up the mountain.

Todoh, the Guren, and the Four Holy Swords were doing short work of any other Knightmares that weren't currently engaging the Lion Knightmares.

Now that he saw one of them, a large purple one, up close, Todoh almost had to pinch himself. The Britannians weren't making any headway with the Lion whatsoever. Blue lasers flew from the Lion's tail, and its claws and teeth were quickly crushing any that got too close. Although Todoh also noted that whoever was piloting this Knightmare didn't seem to be aiming to kill the Britannians, just disable the Knightmares themselves. Either way, it was confirmed to the Colonel officially of who the Lion was fighting when its tail collided with a Sutherland that nearly struck Chiba's Burai from behind.

Convinced of the Lion's allegiance, Todoh took the time to contact the headquarters immediately, "General! I apologize for the late arrival, what's happening?!" Todoh demanded.

"We're not sure ourselves, Todoh!" Katase replied, "But we're using the arrival of these Lions to evacuate the base! We need all the help we can right now!"

"I understand," the Colonel nodded, "We will assist as best as we can."

o~o

From the Camelot Division's transport, Euphemia watched the battle with fear in her eyes. She heard that the Purebloods had been forced to retreat, along with Darlton's unit. They had failed to get in contact with General Alex's platoon either, and word just arrived that backup for the JLF had arrived as well.

"Asplund, get this Knightmare ready to launch immediately!" Nonette ordered fiercely as she climbed up into the Lancelot's cockpit.

"Aha! With pleasure Miss Enneagram!" The Earl practically sang.

"Wait! Lady Enneagram! The Camelot unit hasn't been called on for assistance yet!" Cecile pointed out.

"That's not necessary! As a Knight of the Round, I'm personally ordering the launch of this unit. Upon doing so, I want all available military personnel sent my way as backup. Understood?"

"Ah! Yes, yes! Absolutely!" Lloyd was practically frothing at the mouth with exuberance, "This is the perfect chance to test my creation against these Lions!"

"Nonette-!" Euphie called out.

"Don't worry about me, Euphie," Nonette said just as the cockpit closed, "I've got this!"

o~o

"Man! I'll be honest, I didn't think I'd have this much fun smashing these Knightmares up!" Milly commented with a smirk as leaped out of the way one Gloucester's spears.

"I know, right?" Rivalz commented, "At least the smart ones know to run away from us! And to think, for a while, I actually sort of respected these guys, you know?"

"Trust me, I understand the feeling perfectly," Lelouch said a little darkly, shoving back memories that left a terrible taste in his mouth.

"Paladins," Allura's face lit up inside all of the cockpits, "There's a large number of people evacuating to the northwest of the mountain range. However, there's a small pocket of them that have yet to move from their position."

"That's got to be them!" Lelouch exclaimed, realizing that must be the Black Knight's location. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, 'The JLF is likely using them as decoys to hurry the evacuation along should the enemy break through that far. Just throwing them under the bus, it seems.'

"Kallen!" Lelouch cried, his face appearing in Aka's cockpit, "I'm sending you coordinates to the Black Knights location. Once you've confirmed it's them, you know what to do. And hurry, there's several Britannian units are heading their way!"

"Understood Zero!" Kallen nodded before she and Aka zoomed off in the direction specified.

'Hang on, guys! Just hang on!'

o~o

Shirley and Zinnia seemed to be having the easiest time with the Knightmares, both due to Zinnia's heavy armor, and the fact that Shirley was reasonably hesitant to hurt any of the soldiers. Most of the soldiers seemed to understand that they weren't going to break the armor, but that didn't mean that she didn't have to fight at all. Shots were fired from both sides, but Zinnia's laser blasts were far more effective than the bullets the Glousters and Sutherlands fired.

Shirley gasped when something suddenly hit her hard from above and behind.

"What?!" she gasped as Zinnia was knocked forward. She was able to recover quickly, and upon turning around, she came face to face with the Lancelot.

"What the heck?!" Shirley exclaimed upon spotting it.

"Shirley! Get away!" Suzaku shouted, Yoru landing deftly in front of Zinnia.

"Suzaku!" she shouted.

"Just go! I'll handle this!"

"O-Okay," she nodded before retreating off to the side.

Suzaku and Yoru turned to face the unit that he used to pilot. Suzaku admitted that he was shocked to see the Lancelot out on the battlefield, and who was testing it if it wasn't him? However, he knew he was the best person to fight it for that very reason.

Suzaku tensed when he noticed the VARIS rifle aimed to fire at him. He and Yoru quickly leaped to the side to avoid it. Though he doubted that even an advanced weapon like that could hurt Yoru, he didn't want to take too many chances.

The Lancelot sped right up to intercept him, readying its MVS sword to attack. Yoru raised her paw with a snarl to swipe at it, but the Lancelot quickly flipped over it and attempted to kick at Yoru's other leg. Just like with the other Knightmares, though, not so much as a scratch was left from the impact.

Yoru leaped backward again to try and shoot the Lancelot from long-range, only for one of the slash-harkens to pull towards it instead.

"Big mistake!" Suzaku shouted, as Yoru caught the harken in her mouth and roughly threw the Lancelot by its wire across the battlefield.

The Knightmare managed to flip and land on its feet again and readied the VARIS rifle to fire at it. This time, the VARIS did make contact with the Lion and managed to knock Yoru to the ground, Suzaku grunting from the impact. The next second, though, they were up on their feet again.

o~o

"Not even the VARIS did any damage to it?!" Cecile exclaimed in shock as she, Lloyd, and Euphemia watched on the computer.

Lloyd, however, didn't seem too bothered by this at all. He only seemed to get more excited at this new development, his eyes twinkling with thousands of stars, "Just what in the world is that Knightmare made out of?!"

o~o

"Okay, got to finish this fast," Suzaku grit his teeth. He and Yoru leaped into the sky, beginning to rain laser fire down towards the Lancelot, whose current pilot was dodging all of the attacks with ease. Despite being on the receiving end of it this time, Suzaku couldn't help but stare in awe at the Lancelot's performance.

'Not bad, Lloyd, not bad.'

o~o

Kallen's eyes lit up red with her Geass as she scanned the area furiously for the Black Knights. She had made sure to alert Lelouch about its ability before the battle began, which was why he only gave here the approximate location, knowing she could likely find them on her own from there.

"Where are-there!" She shouted, her eyes widening to see that several black Burais were cornered near one of the mountain entrances and were being overrun. The Sutherlands had just lifted their rifles to open fire.

"Oh no, you don't!" she screamed, Aka roaring in passionate rage as they shot off towards the cluster.

Before a single gun can be fired, Aka slammed down on top of the two Knightmares leading the charge at the Black Knights, effortlessly crushing them underneath. Down below, through dust and debris, Kallen spotted the distressed and panicked looks on many of the Black Knights, Ohgi included.

Just as the Britannian ground troops turned the guns in her direction, Aka roared, and Kallen sprinted out of the cockpit and leaped out her Lion's mouth with a flip, Bayard flashing to life in her hands. With a battle cry, she slashed her claws across the chest of one Britannian soldier and swiftly delivered a kick to one behind her. Spotting that some were aiming their guns at her from behind, she lifted her shield, easily taking the puny bullets that clattered off of it like tin foil. She sprinted towards the cowards that tried to shoot her and made little work of them, hitting one in the face with her shield and punching the other square in the jaw.

A single gunshot suddenly ran out, and Kallen's head jerked forward.

Only a thick silence fell as the bullet, that should've been lodged deep into her skull, slammed against Kallen's helmet, and landed with a clink on the stone floor below, crushed from its own impact.

"Impo-" the soldier never finished his sentence as a set of metal claws soon found its home right through the soldier's chest. With a cough of blood, he fell to the floor, bleeding out profusely on the ground.

One final roar from Aka, enraged that her Paladin had nearly been shot, sent the rest of the Britannian ground troops running back the way they came.

Throughout the whole thing, the Black Knights had only watched in awe and shock as, to them, a single soldier practically took out an entire platoon single-handedly.

Kallen tisked as she walked over to the now-dead Britannian and yanked her cestus from his chest. The Bayard shook back into resting position and disappeared into her suit.

With a huff, she turned and waved to the Black Knights, a cheeky grin on her face.

"Hey, Ohgi! Hey everyone! What's up?"

"Ka-Kallen?!" Ohgi stuttered as his brain was still trying to process what the hell he just saw.

"Wha-what the hell?!" Tamaki exclaimed, pointing frantically between Kallen and the Red Lion, "Kallen, what the hell's going on here?!"

"Where have you been, Kallen?" Minami asked urgently.

"What are you wearing?" Inoue questioned with a quirked eyebrow.

"What is that Knightmare?" she heard Yoshida ask.

Tons of other questions were fired Kallen's way, but even though she wanted to answer them, time was of the essence right now.

"Everyone, I promise I'll explain later, but right now, you need to come with me!" she said, pointing towards Aka, who had lowered her head and opened up to let the passengers on board.

"Wha-wait, Kallen we-"

"Ohgi, do you trust me?" Kallen asked the Black Knight directly.

"What?" he asked, taken aback.

"Do you trust me?" she asked again.

"Well- yes, you know I do, Kallen," Ohgi answered.

"They trust me now, please! Help me get everyone in the Lion."

Ohgi swallowed, but nodded, ushering all the Black Knights into Aka's mouth before following shortly after.

"Uh, you sure about this, Kallen?" Tamaki asked, just outside, "This thing looks more like it-"

"GET IN THE DAMN LION, TAMAKI!" she shouted impatiently before she literally kicked his ass, where he stumbled inside, nearly landing on his face.

Once all of them had boarded, Kallen shoved her way back up to the cockpit and sat down, "Sorry for lack of seats, you'll just have to hang on!" she warned before shoving the lever down.

With a roar, Aka leaped away from the mountain and with a thrust of her engines, shot into the sky. Kallen winced as heard several of the Black Knights be thrown backward from the force. 'Yeah… lack of seats, sorry guys.'

Once they were hovering above the mountain and out of immediate danger, Kallen contacted Lelouch, his face covered by his Zero mask appeared on her screen, "I've got them Zero! Heading to the Castle now!"

"Good work!" Zero nodded, "Once they're secure, return to the battlefield immediately so we can finish this!"

"You got it!" she grinned and closed the screen. Phase one complete.

"Wait-was that Zero?" Ohgi asked, having climbed his way up to the cockpit with Tamaki.

Kallen sighed in slight irritation, "As I said, I'll explain later. Now hang on to something!"

Ohgi and Tamaki managed to brace themselves just as Kallen slammed down on Aka's rocket boosters, and the Red Lion shot at full speed into Earth's atmosphere.

"Wha-wait! Hold on, where we going?! Wha-" Tamaki was cut off as he gripped the back of Kallen's seat with one hand, and grasped the right wall with his other. In front of his and Ohgi's eyes, the clear blue sky of Japan disappeared to be replaced with millions of stars against a sheet of black.

Ohgi also looked at a loss of words as the Moon drew alarmingly closer each second. But the Lion wasn't aiming to land on the Moon. Instead, it shot around the side of it and was greeted by-

"What the hell?!" Tamaki shouted as the Castle of Lions came into full view in front of them.

Ignoring Tamaki's exclamation, Kallen guided Aka into her bay and spotted C.C. waiting for them at the end of the tunnel.

Upon coming to a stop, she turned to the two men, "Okay, this is where you get off!"

"What? But Kallen-"

"Ohgi, you said you trust me, right? So please, just bear with us a little longer, okay?" she practically begged.

"And what about you?" Tamaki asked.

"I'll be back in a bit, with Zero. Now get going. There's a friend of ours waiting down there for you; she'll take care of everything else."

Ohgi still hesitated, before finally steeling himself and pulling Tamaki out of the cockpit to join the rest of the Black Knights, who were already exiting the Lion.

The moment Tamaki and Ohgi stepped out of Aka, the Lion reared back its head and roared before spiraling around and shooting right back out into space.

"Long time, no see, Black Knights," C.C. greeted with a small smile.

"Wait, do we know you?" Sugiyama asked, all of their attention drawn from their new surroundings to the woman in front of them.

"We've never officially met," C.C. admitted with a shrug, "but I am an ally to you and Zero. Now, if you'll follow me, we are keeping the others waiting."

"Wait, others? Who?" Yoshida asked.

"What is this place?" Inoue asked.

C.C. just smiled mysteriously before swiftly walking out of the room, forcing the Black Knights to follow her. After turning down several halls and up an elevator, C.C. waved forward onto the bridge of the Castle of Lions.

Before any of the Knights could adequately take in the room, a loud, cheerful voice drew their attention, "Hello! You must be the Black Knights. Though honestly, you don't look very much like knights. Ha! You Earthlings and your fashion quirks," Coran shook his head with an amused smile.

"Okay, seriously, what the hell is going on?!" Tamaki stuttered out.

"Who are you, people?" Ohgi asked a little more politely.

Allura turned to face them from her position in the center of the room, "Welcome Black Knights, to the Castle of Lions. I am Princess Allura of Planet Altea."

It took the Knights several seconds to process just what Allura had said before Ohgi finally found his voice, "Planet…? Wait, as in aliens?"

"Well, that's generally what 'another planet' means, right?" C.C. answered with a smirk.

"Wait, you're seriously aliens?" Inoue asked, "You guys look way too human."

Coran laughed, not looking offended by the statement at all, "Well, I could say the same about you. If it weren't for the unusually shaped ears, I'd almost mistake you for Alteans!"

Several of the Black Knights unconsciously raised a hand towards their ears at that statement, shooting confused looks to one another. "What's wrong with our ears?" Minami asked quietly.

"All you must know right now is that I'm an ally of Zero, and Coran and I are here to assist with your mission to free your land from Britannia," Allura told them professionally.

"And just how the hell are you gonna do that, lady?" Tamaki demanded skeptically.

Allura's eye twitched just slightly. Kallen and Lelouch had warned her that some of the Black Knights, one with red hair, in particular, weren't the most cordial Earthlings they'd meet. This must be the one they spoke of.

Before the Princess could reply, though, C.C. beat her to the punch, "Just watch," she gestured to the large screen at the end of the room, smirking, "You're gonna love this."

o~o

Suzaku grunted again as the Lancelot jumped roughly off of Yoru's back after it failed to pierce the armor on her back.

"Okay, whoever's piloting this is really good. Probably as good as me," he reluctantly admitted as Yoru swung her tail towards the Knightmare again, missing by centimeters.

Nonette also admitted from within the Lancelot that the pilot of this Purple Lion was also excellent. She had actually had to think about several of her attacks during this battle.

"Not bad stranger," she couldn't help but grin, "not bad."

Suzaku was about to fire at the Lancelot with the tail cannon again when Zero's face appeared on his screen.

"Suzaku, Kallen just got back. Rendezvous with me and the others at the top of the mountain!"

"It's time then?" he asked, more to himself than Lelouch, "I'll see you there!"

Zero's mask inclined in response before cutting the connection.

From outside, Nonette blinked in surprise as the Purple Lion in front of her suddenly dropped its tail cannon and leaped away, flying back into the sky.

"What the-What gives?" she asked, completely confused.

o~o

By the time Kallen returned to the others, the JLF was long gone, having escaped on several trucks and were just beginning to enter the highway. Despite the fair amount of distance, though, all of the rebels could still see the seven lions starting to assemble at the top of the mountain. Todoh and the Four Holy Swords, along with the pilot for the recently re-acquired Guren, watched intently as well.

o~o

Miraculously, Guilford's Knightmare was still functional enough for the knight to get to his Princess's Gloucester and drag it back to the G1 base. He was met by Darlton and a couple of other straggling soldiers there who assisted in prying Cornelia's Knightmare open.

The Viceroy seemed mostly unhurt, but a large gash on her head was bleeding profusely and would need medical treatment. Her Gloucester, on the other hand, was utterly inoperable now. Underneath her wound, though, her eyes were shaking in rage.

For the first time in her life, someone had bested her in battle. Not only that but had utterly humiliated her in front of her own men!

o~o

Suzaku was the last to join the Paladins at the top of the mountain, overlooking the thoroughly battered battlefield down below. From off in the distance, the Paladins could see Britannian reinforcements approaching from the ground and in the air with several helicopters racing towards them, likely armed to the brim with explosives they intended to aim directly at them.

"Man! I don't think I've ever had that much fun shooting bad guys before!" Rivalz commented happily.

"I agree," Milly smirked, "Compared to a Galran fortress, I barely even broke a sweat!"

"So, is this it, Lulu?" Shirley asked, eyes still glued to the army approaching them rapidly.

Lelouch sighed almost dramatically, "I suppose there's no point in keeping them waiting," he chuckled and straightened in his chair, "Alright, Paladins! Let's show Britannia what exactly it is they're up against. Form Voltron!"

"Yeah!" they all shouted. With roars of elation, the Lions all shot up into the air; their bodies cloaked in colored light.

The Black Lion roared out as it flew forward with its arms folding backward and then into the container units on its sides. Then the Green and Red Lion flew in as they flew upward, leaving behind a trail of energy in their colors. Their legs suddenly began to fold up and were secured to the sides before they shot up towards their leader. Next up, the Yellow and Purple Lion as they flew in and began to fold up their legs to be secured, the Blue and Orange Lion doing the same just below them, connecting to each other to form two long, large legs together. The Red Lion attached itself to the right socket of the Black Lion and the Green Lion connected to the left. Once this was done, the four remaining Lions connected to the bottom devices of the Black Lion, sealing up and joining tightly together. With the body now formed, a golden crown formed upon the Black Lion's head, its maw opened up to reveal the face of Voltron himself. With a clash of his hands, the Defender of the Universe reached upward to the sky, ready for battle.

o~o

Back as the Castle, the Black Knights all watched, eyes widening impossibly at Voltron's appearance. They were blown so open that the Alteans feared their eyeballs would roll out of their skulls.

Tamaki suddenly fainted on the spot.

C.C. had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from laughing out loud at their faces. It was honestly one of the funniest things that she had seen in a long time.

"Wha… What is that?!" Ohgi asked, finally regaining his voice. The expression on his face would make you wonder if he had just seen the face of God at that very moment.

Allura simply smiled proudly, "This is Voltron."

o~o

Time seemed to stop for every Britannian troop on the ground. Even the JLF trucks screeched to a stop on the highway to look back at the robotic giant standing in the air.

"Wh-what the hell?!" Jeremiah exclaimed in shocked horror.

Villetta's voice didn't seem to work as she kept opening and closing her mouth, eyes wide and shaking.

Similar reactions came from many other soldiers within their Knightmares, some backpedaling in shock and eyes widened into softballs. Some of them even felt a wetness around their seats.

Even Nonette from the Lancelot stopped dead in her tracks at the monstrous sight before them.

o~o

From the G1 unit itself, both Guilford and Darlton practically froze in their attempts to assist Cornelia as they stared at the central console.

"What… in the world… is that…?" Guilford whispered, eyes shaking and sweat running down his face.

Darlton seemed at a loss for words himself, along with the rest of the royal guard that survived.

The Goddess of Victory herself stared at the screen, still attempting to process what exactly she was looking at.

o~o

From the JLF convoys, all of the rebels looked on, eyes wide and mouth open. Even the ever-stoic Todoh couldn't mask his surprise, his eyes widening in shock.

o~o

"Ll-Lloyd… are you seeing this?!" Cecile asked frantically next to him.

Lloyd meanwhile could only look with a dropped jaw before it turned into a massive grin with beating hearts in his eyes. He squealed so loudly it would've put the biggest boy band fangirls to shame, "This-This is-! I can't even-! OOOoooOOOoooOOHHHH! This is amazing! I never thought I'd see such a thing in my entire life!"

Euphemia watched from behind them, her eyes also wide and lip even trembling.

o~o

Meanwhile, within Voltron itself, Kallen, Rivalz, and Milly couldn't help but laugh as the army practically came to a dead stop in front of them.

"Oh, man! You think any of them wet themselves yet?!" Rivalz guffawed.

"I will pay good hard cash, just to see what the look on their faces is right now!" Milly giggled uncontrollably.

"Ha! You like a taste of your own medicine, Britannia?" Kallen grinned fiercely. She hadn't felt this good in a battle for a long time.

o~o

"Open fire… Open fire!" Cornelia suddenly howled from within the G1.

The second everyone heard her orders, all forces, Knightmares, tanks, helicopters, and jets all began shoot relentlessly at Voltron, hoping that their combined power could take the robot out.

o~o

"Rai… form shield," Lelouch ordered plainly.

The Green Paladin blinked and replied, "Uh, Lelouch, you realize this is likely not going to do anything to us, right?"

Lelouch chuckled in reply, "Perhaps, but let's just humor them for the time being."

Rai shrugged but pulled up Voltron's shield anyway, just as the first group of missiles hit the safeguard raised in front of them.

After just sitting there and taking the onslaught for about a solid minute, Shirley spoke up, "Um… Lelouch, aren't we gonna like fight back?"

"Who says we weren't?" Lelouch responded with a smirk, holding a hand to the side of his face, "Kallen!"

The Red Paladin smirked before lifting Aka's head, and the Red Lion's jaw unleashed a massive blast of lasers towards a heavily crowded area of the helicopters. All of them exploded on impact, along with any Knightmares inside of them. She then directed Aka's head downward, and with a single, slow swing, blasted at the forest below, destroying or heavily damaging several ground troops and Knightmares beneath.

"Suzaku, form sword!" Lelouch ordered.

Suzaku hesitated for a moment before he jammed his Bayard into Yoru's key slot.

As the shield slapped back onto Voltron's back, his hands clapped together and formed the trademark sword and held it before him. Then with a flash of his rocket boosters, Voltron slashed straight through the rest of the airborne troops with a single swing of the weapon. An inferno of destruction shadowed them as they flew to a stop, now shadowed by the flames.

With one final swing of his sword, Voltron's direction turned skyward and flew off into the twilight.

o~o

"They're on the way back! That's our cue, Princess!" Coran said with a grin.

Allura grinned back, and with a swipe of her hand, the holo screens shifted, and the Princess pressed a single button in the center.

o~o

Cornelia watched speechless as the whole army was almost wiped out in a single strike. How could this be?! How could the Elevens, or anyone for that matter, create a weapon such as this?! And even if they did, how did they keep it hidden for so long?!

"Princess Cornelia! We must pull back! We will be completely wiped out if we keep fighting!" Darlton begged her from the side.

Cornelia grit her teeth and growled. Even though she was angry...no not angry, she was livid at how this battle had turned about; she knew there was no other choice.

"Very well," she hissed, "Sound the retreat!"

"Right away!" another general said almost frantically as he got a hold of all remaining Knightmares on the ground. He suddenly gasped in shock.

"What is it now?!" Cornelia demanded as the screen in the front began to glitch.

"Wait-that's!" Guilford exclaimed as the image on the screen came into view.

"I am Zero!"

Everyone aboard the G1 gasped in shock. It had been months since they had seen the masked rebel's face. Some people thought that he had died as the Black Knight's activity also depleted during this time. Seeing the masked foe in front of them on-screen now made the blood freeze in many of the soldiers.

It wasn't just on the G1 unit, either. Every electronic, computer and television screen was showing the same broadcast as well. All people, Britannian and Japanese alike, stopped all previous activities to turn their attention to the screen.

"People of Japan, I have returned!" Zero spread his arms out wide, and many gasped to see the distinct change to the BK leader's outfit. Gone was the fancy purple suit and golden lining. Instead, what was underneath his cape was what appeared to be some kind of black armor, with golden lining it. One of the most distinctive features of it was a large golden 'V' on the chest plate. It didn't look like old medieval armor, though. If anything, it looked like it had been pulled from a sci-fi convention. A very professional sci-fi convention.

o~o

"Hear me, Britannia!" Zero shouted, "All you who have power, heed my words carefully! I am burdened by sorrow, war, and discrimination! Malicious deeds carried out by the strong."

"You heard me right, keep it rolling!" Diethard demanded from the news station.

"But sir-"

"I'll do it myself if you don't!" the reporter shouted impatiently.

Alarmed, but not willing to disobey, the news anchor brought up the sound as Diethard gazed onward at the masked terrorist.

o~o

"The same abhorrent interplay of tragedy and comedy. The world has not changed. The people still suffer. That is why the return of Zero was necessary!"

From the safety of her home, Nina watched on as her eyes shook in fear. It was bad enough that all of her friends from the council were still missing, and now Zero was back again? She had just begun to feel safe with terrorist activity, finally starting to die down. Now, this?

She whimpered and pulled her legs up in a hug, cringing away.

o~o

From far off, within the safety of Mount Fuji, several older men and a younger girl watched the broadcast closely. The maiden's eyes, in particular, sparkled with excitement and admiration for this great warrior.

"So long as the strong oppress the weak. My rebellion will continue to grow."

o~o

"And it begins today with the divine punishment brought by the titan known as Voltron!"

The screens suddenly changed to show the dramatic transformation of the Lions into the great robot that had decimated the Britannian forces just moments ago. Everyone across Japan gasped in horror or awe at the power the juggernaut seemed to wield with a flick of its hand.

o~o

"Viceroy, we're trying to track the signal of the video, but there seems to be no place to track it!" an informant exclaimed over the G1's intercom.

"What?! How is this possible?!" Cornelia demanded.

"We don't know. We've checked every possible location this could be coming from!"

"Well, keep looking!"

"Understood!"

"Voltron, he is known as the Defender of the Universe. He is a shield to protect the weak, and a sword to destroy all those who abuse their power!"

o~o

From the Castle of Lions, where the video was being broadcast, the Black Knights, except Tamaki, looked in awe as their leader's speech continued.

"Charles zi Britannia, I now speak directly to you! You and the rest of Britannia will lay down your weapons and surrender unconditionally to Voltron. If you do not do this, you and the rest of your empire will face total obliteration. The decision is yours."

o~o

With that final, ominous warning, the screens all throughout the Empire and Area 11 glitched back to its scheduled programming.

A young woman, a princess, bound to a wheelchair, had been able to listen to the entire broadcast. Listen because she no longer had her sight.

"What's going to happen now?" she asked in a quivering voice.

A figure that had been standing behind her came closer and gently placed a gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry," Schnizel el Britannia said gently to his sister, "everything's going to be okay."

Nunnally vi Britannia could only hum in agreement and trust in her older sibling. But the void in her stomach only seemed to increase more.

'Big brother…' she thought, tears gathering in her eyes, '...where are you?'

#Fanfiction #AU #Voltron #Code Geass #lelouch lamperouge #suzaku kururugi #c.c.#kallen kozuki #shirley fenette #milly ashford #rivalz cardemonde #rai (lost colors)#princess allura #coran #cornelia li britannia #britannia #knightmares #nunnally lamperouge #euphemia li britannia

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