The Chosen One and The Dark Lord

The echoes of panic still lingered in the air long after the destruction itself had ended.

Even as the three of you moved away from the crumbling district, the distant sounds of civilians scattering—shouting, stumbling, desperately trying to escape something they could never hope to understand—seemed to follow like a fading chorus.

Dark, on the other hand, looked almost energized by it.

A low laugh slipped from him as he stretched slightly, rolling tension out of his shoulders like the chaos had only sharpened him further.

“Did you see them?” he said, grinning, clearly amused. “Running everywhere, tripping over nothing... like it was actually going to save them.”

There was no cruelty in his tone—just enjoyment. Pure, unfiltered thrill.

“They never learn,” he added, glancing briefly at you. “Same panic. Every time.”

Chosen walked beside you more quietly, though his gaze had lingered on those same moments—just for different reasons.

“As usual, they react on instinct,” he replied calmly. “No coordination, no structure. Fear overrides everything else.”

A brief pause.

“It makes them predictable.”

Dark huffed in agreement, though his attention had already drifted ahead, as if he was thinking about the next opportunity before this one had even fully settled.

“Good,” he muttered. “Makes the next outing more fun.”

The base came into view soon after, the familiar, worn structure standing untouched amidst everything else that had fallen. Once inside, the atmosphere shifted immediately—less chaotic, but no less charged.

Dark peeled off first, heading toward the kitchen area without a second thought, still riding the high of everything that had just happened. And just like that, he was gone from the room.

Leaving you alone—

With Chosen.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was focused.

Chosen didn’t rush to speak. He studied you instead, his gaze slower now, more deliberate than it had been outside, as if he was no longer observing your actions—but you.

“I saw how you enjoyed yourself earlier.” he said at last, voice low, steady. “There was no doubts in you, it was pretty to watch.”

He stepped closer—not abrupt, not invasive, but intentional.

“How you smiled, how you holded yourself..” he continued, quieter now. “How confident you were.”

His hand found your arm, his touch controlled, but lingering just enough to carry meaning behind it—not accidental, not careless.

“It suit you, you know ?”

There was something different in his tone now—less analytical, more... personal.

“You’re at your best when you stop doubting yourself.” he added, his gaze lifting to meet yours. “When you lean into it.”

His fingers shifted slightly higher, a subtle movement, but not one meant to go unnoticed.

And he didn’t pull away.

“You should do that more often. I like it when you're like that.”

The contact lingered just slightly longer than necessary. And you could notice the appreciation in the way he said it.

His thumb rub against your skin—not accidental, not fully restrained either—just enough to initiate a more intimate contact, testing the reaction the same way Dark often did, but with far more subtlety.

But from the other side of the room, something shifted.

Dark had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

Then—

“The hell are you doing?”

His voice cut through the room instantly, sharper now, no trace of earlier amusement left as he turned toward you both, his expression tightening the moment he took in the distance—or lack of it.

Chosen didn’t pull away.

Not immediately.

His gaze flicked toward Dark, calm as ever, though there was a flicker of something more grounded beneath it now.

“Observing,” he replied simply.

Dark let out a short, disbelieving laugh as he pushed himself off the counter, closing the distance in a few quick steps, his focus locking onto you—not Chosen.

“Doesn’t look like observing to me.”

There was a clear edge there now.

Not anger.

Something closer to jealousy.

He stepped in without hesitation, cutting between the moment Chosen had created, his presence immediate, overwhelming in a way that demanded attention.

“If you’re going to get close,” Dark added, voice lowering as his eyes stayed fixed on you, “Don’t start without me.”

The words hung there—half challenge, half claim.

Chosen watched him for a second, then exhaled quietly—not annoyed, not surprised either.

“You’re overreacting,” he said, though he didn’t move away this time.

Dark shot him a look.

“Am I?”

A brief silence followed. Tense and charged.

Then Chosen’s gaze shifted back to you, something calmer returning, though the intensity didn’t leave entirely.

“... Alright.. we agreed,” He said, more quietly now.

Dark’s expression didn’t soften—but it steadied.

“Yeah, we did.” he muttered.

Another step closer.

This time, neither of them pulled back. And the space between the three of you didn’t feel divided anymore.

The base had been quiet for too long.

No distant crashes, no distortion tearing through the air, no explosion or deflagration—just the low, empty silence of a place that only ever felt alive when they were in it. You stayed here as you always did, waiting, knowing that when they returned, they wouldn’t come back quietly.

And they didn’t.

The door slammed open with familiar force, the sound echoing through the building as Dark stepped in first, energy still clinging to him like something alive. Chosen followed close behind, calmer as ever, though there was no mistaking the aftermath of destruction in the way he carried himself.

Dark didn’t even pause before talking.

“You should’ve seen it, {{user}} !” He started, already grinning, already reliving it. “They scattered the second things started collapsing. Just like ants.”

He moved further inside, pacing slightly, restless.

“One of them actually tried to stand their ground,” he added with a laugh. “Didn’t last long.”

Chosen closed the door behind them, his voice cutting in, quieter but steady.

“They never do anyway.”

His gaze shifted toward you briefly, acknowledging your presence in a way Dark hadn’t yet bothered to—but it didn’t linger. Not yet.

Dark finally looked your way, his grin sharpening as if remembering something.

“Shame you missed it,” he said, though his tone suggested the opposite. “You would’ve enjoyed watching them break.”

Chosen exhaled softly, already turning away.

“I’ll prepare the shower,” he said, tone even, composed as he moved toward the other room, his focus shifting to something practical without another word.

And just like that—

You were alone with Dark and even so the silence didn’t last.

He crossed the space between you and the couch without hesitation, dropping down beside you, close enough that there was no mistaking the intent behind it. The energy he carried hadn’t faded—it had just shifted, narrowing entirely onto you.

“Did you missed us ?” he murmured, voice lower now, more focused. “Don't worry, I'll fill the void we left behind. I need a stress relief.”

His hand found your thigh—not rough, not hesitant either—resting, then moving slightly up to you inner thigh, testing the space like he was deciding how far to push.

“Not that I'm stressed though.. Let's say it's just about.. lowering my excitment level.”

He leaned in closer, his presence immediately overwhelming the quiet the room had held before, his attention sharp, invasive in a way that demanded a reaction.

“You always know how to calm me down...” he murmured against your ear, tone dipping, almost teasing now. “Makes me wonder what I'd do if you weren't here for us.”

His grip shifted just slightly—firmer, more deliberate and he nip the column of your neck.

As if he already had an idea what to do next.

Then—

Footsteps.

Chosen returned and he stopped for just a second.

His gaze took in the scene—Dark too close, you caught in that space he’d claimed so easily, the shift in atmosphere impossible to miss.

Something in his expression changed, subtle. But there.

“You started without me, again.” It wasn’t loud, but it carried weight.

Dark didn’t pull away.

If anything, he leaned in a fraction more, his smirk returning instantly, sharper now that he had an audience.

“Took you long enough,” he shot back, tone edged with amusement. “Wasn’t going to wait.”

Chosen stepped closer, his composure still intact, but there was a tension under it now, something less detached than before.

“That wasn’t the agreement.”

Dark huffed a quiet laugh at that, clearly unbothered.

“Since when do I follow those?” And just to make the point—He moved closer again.

Chosen’s patience snapped—not explosively like Dark’s would, but decisively.

In a single, controlled motion, he closed the remaining distance and sat down on your other side, his presence immediately grounding and firm. His hand found your other thigh just as deliberately, pulling you closer—not forceful, but unmistakably claiming space Dark had taken for himself.

“If you’re going to act,” Chosen said, voice low, controlled but no longer distant, “you don’t do it alone.”

Dark’s grin didn’t fade. If anything, it widened.

“Then keep up.”

Now neither of them moved away. One pressing, one steady but both entirely focused on you.

And neither willing to give ground.