#/I mean Im still recovering but I can sit up to draw now at least lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yesimwriting · 3 years ago

Text

Crossing lines

General Kirigan/the darkling x reader

Summary: This was requested by my friend @vvsdiamond28 who also writes and has a really good kirigan x reader story up right now! The request was basically for a fic in which the reader is out wandering at night and runs into kirigan while he’s in the banya and then they get to talking and some other stuff before he admits to only trusting the reader and giving her his real name. This gets kinda steamy bc of the request and bc the story called for it lol but it’s not full smut bc i decided that it would be better to do that as a part 2 so that i could add some jealousy tension haha

a/n i think im back?? Ive been working on requests a lot and ive really enjoyed writing regularly again. A small side note, after rewatching revenge of the sith im kinda in the mood to try writing an anakin fic 😭 pls he was my OG fictional crush,, so either send help or a request for him or something, Anyways,, back to this fic--ahh i had fun writing it but i still feel awkward writing steamier stuff so be nice!!

Those that wander in the night, lost in uneasy thought--there’s probably a lot that can be said about them. But I can’t think of anything to be said about me. Nothing good comes from walking around a place full of powerful and tense people in the middle of the night. It wouldn’t take much effort to interpret my actions as suspicious, and yet I continue forward. I’m an idiot--just because I can’t sleep doesn’t mean I have to wander around campgrounds. My presence is barely tolerated here, I shouldn’t try backstroking in waters I can barely tread.

But still, I walk, eyes more fixated on the open night sky than anything else. The moon is as full as an overflowing glass, the stars twinkling as if desperate to compete with a light it will never be able to duplicate. I sigh, pressing my lips together. Maybe the stars and I have more in common than I thought. Normally, that would be a good thing.

Letting out a weary breath, I continue forward, away from the relative safety of the main tents. I’m still on the grounds, I’m approaching the border where the tents of higher ranking officials are. That should make me more nervous, but if anything it almost eases me slightly.

General Kirigan is not the type to be friendly, and yet our interactions have always been laced with a touch of intimacy I can’t quite explain. We’ve been alone together more and more frequently, and I think that’s how I like him best. It’s strange, but when we’re alone some of his sharpness dulls, leaving space for something I might consider humor or actual personality on anyone else. He probably speaks to many girls like that when they’re alone together--a fact I have to fight to remind myself of--but it’s the closest thing to friendship I have here. Maybe it’s foolish to hold onto that, but I can’t bring myself to release my grip on those sentiments. At least not yet, when the kind moments are still rare and fleeting and no line has been crossed.

The danger, however, comes from the prospect of not recognizing lines before they’re crossed. Even now, as I walk aimlessly in the night, pacing in hopes of exhausting my thoughts, I’m crossing lines in a much more literal way and even these are ill defined. I must be in new territory now, and even that I can only vaguely recognize because of the strangely humid scent that surrounds this area of the grounds.

I’m near the banya. I didn’t intend to wander here, but the thought of splashing water on my face is too tempting to pass up on. I move closer, finding a sense of peace in having some direction, even in a small way.

When the promise of water is only steps away, I begin to regret everything. There’s a figure in the bath. I freeze, ready to attempt to shrink away in hopes of disappearing before I’m caught. This could easily turn extremely awkward even though I technically haven’t done anything. Most people don’t bathe at this hour. Who bathes this late at night?

I keep my eyes on the individual, trying to make out who they are and how aware they are of their surroundings in the dim light. Pale skin, dark hair--unbelievably attractive torso. My eyes linger there longer than they should. I force my gaze upwards, towards their face as if that can erase my ogling. Embarrassment leaves my face burning--I’m not the ‘ogling’ type, and this person doesn’t even know I’m here. I keep my eyes on them as I step back, taking in unaware features as best I can in the dark.

I know them--I--Saints, it’s Kirigan.

Fantastic. Of course he has to be even more impossibly attractive while shirtless and wet. I turn my head upwards sharply, more desperate to not be caught than ever. I would never, ever recover from being caught. Whether he’d tease me or be angry with me, I don’t know. I also don’t know which option I’d prefer.

I step back again, my gait wider due to my urgency. Snap. The sound of both a twig and my chance of a stealthy escape being shattered. I cringe, craning my neck to the left in a desperate attempt to make it clear that I wasn’t watching him. I take another desperate step, ready to duck behind a nearby tree. Maybe he hasn’t seen me--maybe he’s distracted and assumed that some kind of rabbit or something passed by. He may not actively dislike me, but I’m not sure any semblance of favor he may have for me extends to this situation.

“Y/n.” His tone reveals nothing but his level of certainty. Ignoring him will only make me seem guilty.

I pause, keeping my gaze off of him. “Yes.” It wasn’t really a question, and yet I still answer it like one. “I was--I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d get some air, and I was walking kind of aimlessly and I ended up here and I didn’t think anyone would be here.” Why do I feel like I’m making this situation worse? “I’m sorry--I’m gonna--I’m going to go now.” This is the kind of embarrassing moment that will come back to me when I’m trying to fall asleep at night. I know it.

“You know the polite thing to do after intruding is to make eye contact.”

I don’t think my face has ever felt this warm before. At least he doesn’t sound angry, but his voice doesn’t reveal that much. I raise my gaze carefully, turning my head slowly. “I didn’t mean,” I exhale slowly, “It wasn’t my intention to intrude.”

He straightens slightly at my words, exposing more of his chest. I stay still, eyes trained on his to avoid an accidental lapse. “You could make it up to me by offering conversation.” Kirigan’s tone is deliberate, his words measured and calm. I don’t speak, feeling like I’m being presented a test I don’t understand, but most of our conversations leave me feeling like that. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

And just like that, I’m backed into a corner. A challenge. To deny him now would be to expose the effect he has on me. My chin raises a fraction of an inch as I take in that assured half-smirk. “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?”

Kirigan arches a dark brow, assessing my response. “Then sit,” his voice has not changed, “You want air and I want company.”

I don’t think anyone that looks as good as he does shirtless has ever had trouble finding company, especially with the smooth way he speaks. Despite this, I step forward to accept his challenge without calling him out on his coyness. Each step is the crossing of another invisible line until I’m near the water’s edge. I make sure to keep my nightgown at a respectable length as I sit down.

I make a point of extending my legs towards the water while leaning back so that I can’t be easily accused of being a coward. “I feel the need to warn you that I might not make particularly interesting company.”

He angles his head to the side slightly, drawing attention to his jawline and neck. I force my stare to focus on the water. “I’ve never found you uninteresting.”

There’s something resigned in the way he says this. On instinct, I look up, taking in the slight softening of his features. The release of his usual sternness only adds to his beauty, a fact that I’m already resenting.

“You may be the only one.” It’s not meant to be a deprecating comment, but I’m not sure my partial laugh softens my bitterness. I hope it does--I’d rather his interest than the interest of my entire unit.

Kirigan shifts forward, the water moving with him. “Do you think that any coldness you’re experiencing has to do with you?”

The question has me drawing my eyebrows together. What else could it be? I shrug, “I’ve considered it.”

He nods once, eyes hardening slightly. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?”

The personalness of the question shouldn’t surprise me as much as it does. Kirigan seems to only understand boundaries when he’s the one setting them. “Not really.” A partial lie--this time I’m glad I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “It’s not uncommon for me, but it’s not something I deal with every night.”

I risk shifting my eyeline when I hear the sound of water moving. Kirigan’s now resting an arm on the rim of the pool, wet skin dangerously close to my ankle and lower calf. “It’s not always easy,” his voice is low now, “Being alone with your thoughts.”

That’s not the kind of reply I’d expect from him. I blink twice before turning to study his expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him seem so tired--so weary and human and in need of something. The line between his eyebrows and the far off quality of his eyes leave me with the strong desire to give whatever it is he needs to him. The urge to reach out, to touch him in hopes of breaking him free from his odd trance leaves my stomach knotted. That line is too clear to cross so recklessly.

I need to chase away the serious atmosphere he’s created. “Is that why you bathe so late at night?” I let myself smile, “To avoid thoughts?”

“I like the peace of it.” Something akin to amusement touches his words. “And for the record, little dove,” the nickname is pointed and earns him an eyeroll, “The warm water doesn’t exactly chase away thoughts so much as encourages others.” He pauses. “You understand, considering you can barely look at me.”

This is the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened. The suggestive jilt to his words has to be intentional. Damn him. I turn my head, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I can look at you just fine.”

“And if I were a Heartrender and could hear your heartbeat your pulse would be normal?” The question is teasing, a small smile pulling at his lips.

The warmth in my face increases, spreading down my neck. Kirigan’s expression remains smug. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“No?” He leans forward, angling his head so close to me I can faintly feel the warmth of his breath on my lower calf. “I find myself amusing.”

At least being around him like this is getting easier. I open my mouth, ready to provide some sarcastic comment I haven’t thought out yet. My mouth clamps shut on instinct when I feel his touch on my ankle. The faint contact quickly grows, his fingers brushing up my ankle and calf, leaving drops of cool water across my skin.

“What are you doing?” That’s a--a fair question, right? I’m not sure, rational thought slipping from me more and more with each passing second.

“Nothing, really,” his reply is quick. “Nervous?”

There is no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing. I roll my eyes, fighting against my instinctual fluster. “No,” a full lie, “You’re just getting me wet.”

“Barely.” When he’s not busy being brooding he’s not much better than an irritating child. He retracts his hand slowly, fingers grazing my skin slowly as he submerges his hand beneath the water. The loss of contact should feel like a victory. It doesn’t. “Y/n,” he shifts closer, back straightening.

There’s an odd seriousness to his demeanor that almost leaves me reeling. “Yes?”

He beckons me forward. I hesitate, but comply, letting myself shift closer to the water’s edge. Kirgan’s lips part, but no words leave him before he moves his arm, purposefully splashing water over my thighs and bottom of my nightgown. I let out an instinctively annoyed sound. “That is getting you wet.”

“Kirigan!” My tone is as menacing as I can make it, but he continues to grin. There’s such a lightness to the look I almost forget to be annoyed. Almost. “I should tell the entire Second Army how much of a child you are.”

My threat does nothing, his smile softening without fading. “They fear me too much for your stories to make a difference.” He says this flatly. “All of them except you.”

I don’t know if I’m supposed to make something of that comment. A brief moment passes in which I think his eyes come close to softening. Maybe that’s a side effect of seeing the world as you want. Wait...what do I want? Him? No, no, I can’t.

Okay, he’s objectively attractive and sometimes I think I may see more depth in him than he wants to be capable of. But that doesn’t mean I’m allowed to want anything with him. Even if he was trustworthy enough for me to be with him in any capacity...even casually, it could never happen. Nothing good could come from having relations with the highest ranked general and I doubt he’d ever want me like that. He likes to fluster people and I’m an easy target. I just accept it because being some level of entertainment to him is better than being nothing to everyone.

“I don’t think there’s much point in fear.” It feels like a fair answer. The fairest answer I can manage, anyways.

He sighs, the sound heavy. His hand stretches forward cautiously. I watch him and make no attempt to stop him from touching my lower calf. His fingers trace absentmindedly across the skin. “Of course you’d think that.”

Again, I don’t know what to make of his words. Or his actions. He couldn’t find anything wrong with me just slightly adjusting my position. It’d be a polite way to remind us both of the natural order of things. But then again, someone like him is allowed to be mad about anything. And I’m not sure I want to remind us of our place.

Actually, I’m completely sure that I want the opposite of that. But admitting that to myself is enough of a risk. I’ve already crossed thousands of tiny lines and what I want will require us to cross a thousand more.

“I’m a little surprised you’re not reminding me how foolish a notion like that can be.”

He lets out a tiny breath as he shifts even closer to me. “Maybe I’m enjoying your foolishness.”

“I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or the opposite.”

The slightest hint of a smile is visible to me beneath the moon’s glow. There’s something about darkness that adds beauty to things. I wait for him to reply, but instead of speaking his hand moves further up my leg. I struggle to hide my reaction to his long fingers trailing up my skin.

He’s touched me before, sure. Tiny moments in which he’d push a strand of hair out of my face or wipe at a bit of dirt on my cheekbone. More recently, he had gripped my hip firmly to guide me through a crowd of soldiers. He had been in a hurry, stealing me from a conversation with the only member of my unit that’s been somewhat friendly to me. It wasn’t serious--he had just been rushing me because he only had a minute between meetings and apparently he had too long of a day to not take a moment to speak with me.

“Are you alright, Dovey?” Normally, the nickname and all of its variations earns him an eyeroll. But everything is a lot less humorous with his hand half up my lower leg, leaving a trail of cool water wherever he touches.

His fingers press more firmly into my skin. “Yes, I’m fine--it’s just late.”

“Hm…” Kirigan breathes before tilting his head slightly. “You’re warm.” I stay silent as his hand shifts slightly. “Perhaps too warm.”

If I’m hot that has absolutely nothing to do with fever. “I’m fine, General, I promise.”

“Come closer,” he says, “It’ll take me no time to check.”

...A little too convenient. My nightgown is still embarrassingly damp from the last time I eased tonight. “Please tell me you don’t find me that naive.”

“Naive? No.” He lifts his hand slightly. “Warm? Yes.” I still don’t trust him. “I’m not going to do anything. I promise.”

His eyes are dark and the limited lighting of the moon doesn’t offer me much in my analysis, but what I can see makes him seem genuine. “Why do I feel like that’s not the first time you’ve had to say that?” Despite my comment, I move towards him.

The back of Kirigan’s palm is pressed to my forehead for less than a second. He brushes his hand down the side of my temple, rotating his wrist so that his fingertips can touch my cheek. His hand then continues to move down my jawline and then my neck...and then finally trails down my collarbone. I bite my tongue to avoid exhaling audibly at the contact.

“Warm,” he concludes with a tsk, and yet he doesn’t withdraw his hand. “Though that could just have to do with the climate.” His thumb slips beneath the sleeve of my nightgown. “Perhaps you could benefit from joining me.”

I bite my tongue to avoid letting out a surprised, embarrassingly enthusiastic squeak. I don’t know what’s gotten into him...maybe it’s the night air and the prospect of being fully alone. I should be strong enough to break whatever spell he’s starting to place on me. But I’m not. I’m really, really not.

He pulls on the sleeve of my nightgown slightly. “I’m…”

“Unless you’re nervous?” Another damn challenge. To shy away from this would be to expose myself. He tugs on the sleeve a little more assuredly, exposing my shoulder to the humid night. “Do I make you nervous?”

His voice comes out a shallow rasp. I feel it straight in my core. “...Not more than you should.”

“More than I should?”

Ugh--too honest. I let myself get distracted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to explain what I meant. He knows he’s feared. He wants to be feared. “I’m sure we’re both aware that there are a fair amount of cautionary tales revolving around you.”

His hand falls next to my lap. Oh? I didn’t expect to miss the contact between us so much. His expression seems to have fallen slightly as well. Was it my response to his question? It felt fair and straightforward without being too blunt. “And you believe every cautionary tale you hear?”

There’s something stiff about the way he asks the question. His moodiness is making me miss his touchiness even more. At least then I didn’t have to feel like I made a mistake. Did I say something wrong? “Should I?”

“It depends on whether or not you plan on being brave.”

“I told you...I don’t see much point in fear.”

“And yet you’re still there.” A bit of humor returns to his voice. “Why is that?”

Rolling my eyes, I shift forward, letting my legs dip into the water. This is as far as I should let this go. I’ve already lost too much more control. “Better?” He’s strangely tense again, a hint of something bitter playing at the smug look he tries for. “You alright?”

“Of course you’d ask me that.” He says this with a tired sigh. “You can never make things easy.”

“I don’t understand.”

He shifts backwards slightly. I can feel the distance between us like I’d feel a pebble in my shoe. “Do you believe all the stories about me?”

Is he still bothered by that? “I didn’t mean it as literally as you’re taking it. All I meant is that people are intimidated by you, but that’s not a bad thing. It’s the way things have to be, you’re the only Shadow Summoner in existence and the army needs you to be intimidating so that they can act on your guidance.”

“The way things have to be,” he echoes, his voice strangely weighted. “There’s a specific kind of loneliness that comes with being feared by everyone.”

Oh--I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him feel defeated like that. I reach for his hand without thinking, pulling his fingers towards my lap. “I don’t--I’m not scared of you.” It’s a weak attempt to comfort him, but it’s the only one I can think of. “That probably doesn’t mean anything, but I--”

His hand turns in my lap, squeezing the exposed part of my thigh. “It means something.” Kirigan’s voice has hardened in a different way. “You’re the only person I’m certain of.”

Everything in me seems to tighten at that. At the implication of something so personal from someone so closed off. “Kirigan, you don’t have to be as alone as you feel. You talk to me all the time and you do so in a way that makes it easy to forget the cautionary tales.” His hand moves further up my thigh. I fight as I try to remember our usual dynamic. “You’re the only one that talks to me like that.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe the others refuse to take to you because of the favor I’ve shown you? The instinct to stay away from me is strong enough to extend to those around me.” Kirigan’s hand moves higher up my thigh. “To be near me is to involve solitude.”

“I don’t care.” The answer leaves me too quickly. “Being near you is worth it.”

He leans closer before resting his chin on my knee with no hesitation. “Careful, you don’t understand the line you tread.” Kirigan places his hand more firmly between my thighs. “Or perhaps you do...perhaps you know what you want to cross.”

This time I can’t help the airy sigh that leaves me. Kirigan pushes against my thigh slightly, separating my legs. I feel his breath on my inner thigh before I know what’s going on. I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t even breathe. That inability to do anything but feel my heart pound against my chest only worsens as I feel his lips press into the inside of my thigh. His lips trail up my skin before his teeth gently sink into the top of my thigh.

“Is the line you want to cross?” He breathes the question so softly I feel like I’m being coddled. Everything in me feels too hot to think of any kind of coherent response. Kirigan uses his free hand to pull the fabric of my nightgown as high up my thighs as he can from his position below me. “Or maybe this is the line you want to cross?” Kirigan pulls me forward so suddenly I let out a tiny gasp. I’m not fully on the edge of the banya. “Or perhaps this one?” He kisses the skin of my inner thigh gently. Each time I exhale too loudly, his teeth graze my skin. He gets harsher with each passing second. “Lay down.”

My body listens to him on instinct. How is this happening? How am I this powerless to fight against something that’s so clearly wrong? The sound of water shifting causes my entire body to tense. He’s pulled himself out of the water. Kirigan moves above me instantly, water dripping from his toned chest and dark hair and onto my still damp nightgown.

Before I can speak, he’s on me completely, his lips pressing against my jaw. He kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing against my skin sporadically. He pulls away from me by tracing his tongue across my collar bone. I let out something dangerously close to a moan. “Such pretty, little sounds.”

“Kirigan--”

“The only name I want you to hear from your lips is the only name that I’ve not given myself. The only name that holds meaning to me.”

His lips graze where my skin meets the hem of my now soaked through nightgown. I’m not sure the poor lighting is offering me enough coverage now. There’s no way the thin fabric leaves much to the imagination while being this wet. He kisses up my chest and neck until his lips reach the shell of my ear.

“Aleksander.” The name is grace in the form of a breath so soft it’s more like I’m feeling the name than actually hearing it.

He presses his lips against the spot on my neck directly beneath my ear. I exhale into the contact. “Aleksander.” As I test his true name on my tongue, his teeth dig into my skin much more harshly than before.

I let out a partial squeak at the sudden shift in pace as his hands grip my waist. “Say it again. Say my name again.”

He traces his tongue gingerly over the skin he just aggravated with his teeth before I can speak. The soothing sensation is so much I can barely find my voice. “Aleksander.”

His hand bunches the bottom of my nightgown, raising the fabric to my hips. “...Say it just like that.” Kirgan’s rough hand slips between the bone of my hip and the fabric of my hip. “Like I’m the only one that knows you like this.”

“Aleksander.” I breathe as he traces invisible patterns into my skin with his lips. “Aleksander.” Each use of his name earns me extra attention--a stronger hold on my hip, a more adamant nip at the base of my neck. I feel my need for him so heavily I swear it’s leaked into my bones. “Aleksander.”

When he pulls away, I fight the urge to whine. The night is still humid, but with the absence of his touch I feel like I’m shivering. He regards me silently for a long moment before shifting his weight again. I feel my heart stall in my chest as his hand softly brushes a strand of hair out of my face. He lets his hand linger there, at the apple of my cheek. The entire world seems to stall as he leans down, his hand cupping the side of my face as his mouth inches closer to mine.

“I can feel the fluttering of your heart.”

Any poor defense dies in my throat as his lips meet mine. He gives me no time to think about what’s happening as he presses into me even harder. Kirigan holds my face as his teeth graze against my bottom lip. My mouth opens slightly in surprise, giving him the opportunity he needs to slip his tongue into my mouth. His tongue slowly brushes against mine, coaxing me into total, delirious, compliance. When he starts to pull away, I react, my hands flying forward to grab his hair. He lets me get away with tugging him towards me, prolonging the kiss as he bites my bottom lip.

One of his hands leaves my face and travels up the hands holding onto his hair. He pulls me off of him easily, pinning both of my wrists above my head with one hand. “Easy,” Kirigan warns, “You’ve been such a good girl, let’s not ruin it before we’ve started.”

A tiny sigh leaves me. I can feel the pride he takes in that as his hand trails further down my body. His fingers ghost along the hem of my underwear teasingly.

“Is someone there?” I’ve never damned the voice of a stranger more.

Panic and dread roll in my stomach. I’m going to get caught like this, with my nightgown bunched at my hips beneath the General Kirigan. An unclothed, wet, General Kirigan. “I’m bathing.”

Okay...good...Aleksander spoke. Anyone with common sense would run at the thought of invading on Kirgan’s privacy. It’s a good thing that the soldier had the sense to linger behind a thicket of bushes. “Pardon General, but there’s been a crucial development. A new strategy should be thought of as soon as possible.”

No. No. The thought of losing contact so entirely, of having a moment that should have never happened be ripped from me before it’s even really happened is overwhelming. I feel my lips pull into a pout. Kirigan’s hand adjusts on me, his thumb pressing teasingly over where I’m neediest. I bite my tongue to avoid making an inappropriate noise.

“Five minutes--I’ll be in the strategy tent in five minutes.”

“I’ll tell the others, General.”

Great. I hear the stranger disappear, his feet crushing twigs and grass as he leaves us. Aleksander’s attention returns to me quickly. Disappointment swells in my chest as I take in the solemn look that crosses his features. His hand moves to my chin quickly before pulling me into another deep kiss. It’s too short lived.

“I have to go.”

Frowning, I lift my hand to trace my fingers up his arm. It’s softer than I should allow myself to be, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. Not when this is probably never going to happen again. “Do you?” I mumble to myself, half joking.

He sighs once, his thumb brushing against my cheek. “No pouting.”

Now that whatever little bubble we were in has popped, I’m capable of normal feelings. Including shame. “I am n--”

“Easy, little dove, I’ll remember all of this when I find you again.”

This...this is going to happen again? “You’re going to find me?”

“I haven’t yet heard your voice crack on my name as I undo you.” He punctuates the promise with a kiss to my jaw. “Again.” Another kiss. “And again.” Another brush of his lips as he finally pulls away. “And again.”

My breath catches itself in my throat as he moves off of me entirely. Damn whatever change in the war that’s pulled him away from me so suddenly. I sit up as he stands. I’m not sure where to look now that he’s not in close enough proximity to cloud my thoughts. I should leave as he dresses, but I can’t quite bring myself to. It doesn’t feel safe, not when the man that interrupted us could reappear at any moment. Not when I want to hold onto his presence like this as long as possible.

He squeezes my shoulder warmly as he passes before bending down to press one more kiss next to where his hand is.

“Soon,” he promises again.

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

299 notes · View notes

delusionalgirlie · 4 years ago

Text

Based on this post which blew up a bit last night, I wrote a little drabble of how I think it went

NOT CHECKED OR ANYTHING I wrote this on the way to the gym and back 😭

When marinette asked alya if nino would be up to do some modelling for some of her male designs, it should have been a no-brainer that her best friend would try and hook her up with adrien instead.

Before marinette can blurt out the words “no I would be in too much distress and make a fool of myself”, it somehow came out as “tha- uh- adrien-me? model-“

“Sure marinette!! I think I’m free today after school for about an hour before I have fencing, I’ll see you later then?”

A few seconds of utter awkward silence as marinette registers what just happened. Alya nudges her and whispers “get it together girl, smile and nod that’s all you gotta do”

So she does just that, smiles and nods as adrien turns to leave. And that is how adrien ended up in marinettes room that afternoon.

(AN: I’ll allow you all to imagine the clumsiness of our protagonist by yourselves as we all know, lots of tripping and jumbling of words will happen)

“So, how would you like me to pose? Are there a few pieces you’d like me to try on?”

Adrien gave a few model poses and all marinette can do is gape at him, sitting on her desk chair with her notebook on her lap. “Ah- I- you’re hot- no I mean- isn’t it hot in here ahahahahahahahahahah” she quickly got up and opened a window to go with her little excuse, then took out a carefully folded piece of black and green cloth from her drawer.

In truth, she was actually making a jacket for chat noir, as a thanks for sacrificing himself so many times for ladybug. All she needed was someone of a similar stature to try it on and adjust the size

(A/N: I will allow any type of imagination on what the jacket looks like lol I am nooo fashion expert)

Sheepishly she holds it up and shows him, “it’s just a little something I’ve been working on... it’s not finished but please try it on!!”

Adrien shrugs the jacket on and poses in front of her mirror, “marinette, you amaze me every time”, as he cat walks around the room.

Blushing furiously, marinette sits back down and starts taking notes, what needs to be fixed, what can be added... She takes a few photos for future reference and of course future wall decorations, and begins to draw a few quick sketches of his poses. Truthfully, marinette has never had much practice drawing males, and with a real life model right in front of her, it was a good chance to get some experience.

After a few good model poses, “adrien... could you pose a bit more naturally, maybe like...” she thinks about the adrien she came to love, the adrien who, when laughing at something Nino said, lights up the entire room. The adrien who defended her during the whole lila incident, and the adrien who cherishes the lucky charm she gave him a while back, the adrien who even made one for her. She glances up and adrien is doing a pose marinette knows all too well.

“Like this?” Adrien asks, standing in his post transformation chat noir pose. A few seconds pass and adrien awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, “aha... sorry.. kagami didn’t like it ei-“

Marinette starts giggling. And it was a sound that could clear up a sky full of grey clouds. Adrien was shocked to say the least, it was definitely not the response he was expecting, not after the whole kagami incident.

“S-sorry, you just looked a bit silly and it was kinda funny...” marinette was also reminded of a certain little kitty, but she wasn’t going to say that out loud.

The realisation hit adrien like a brick... She thinks I’m funny... SHE THINKS IM FUNNY!!! “Hmmm...” adrien strikes another pose, this time shrugging off one side of the jacket and pulling it in front of him, “hello, I’m carapace,” imitating his best friend

Marinette is now in full blown laughter, which turns into tears when adrien heads towards the mannequin and goes “oh Alya” with added smoochie sounds as he dances around with her.

Soon enough both of them are cackling on the floor, marinette in actual pain with how much she’s laughing, “nooo not the smoochie sounds!!”

Adrien looks over at marinette, still recovering from the attack on her abdominal muscles, and smiles so softly that if anyone was watching, they’d think he was utterly head over heels for her.

The day ends when adrien’s car pulls over outside the bakery.

But since then, anyone could notice that adrien now looked at marinette with just a little bit more tenderness than before.

#ml #miraculous ladybug #ladybug #mlb season 4 #adriennette #adrien #adrien agreste #ml fanfic #ml spoilers #marinette dupain cheng #chatnoir #marichat #ladynoir

70 notes · View notes

shinysobi · 3 years ago

Text

i came in from the outside, burnt out from the joyride (ii)

this was born out of a conversation with @akinosakiya, so all credits go to her >.<

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | coming soon

ao3

(A/N: so... i am extremely sorry for not updating,,, uni and life has been generally kicking my ass pretty horribly (im in my final semester lol) and while i am not generally very happy with this chapter, it is important because it sets up a lot of things in the future yeeet)

word count: 4955

Attorney Park wishes her good luck as she leaves for the courthouse the next day, and Sol can’t help but feel as though he was laughing at her for some reason, and frantically checks for food stuck in her teeth on the way to the courthouse. There isn’t any, so she’s left to wonder exactly what the hell he meant when he had sent her off with a very cryptic “see you soon, Kang Sol.”

“What did he even mean?” she mutters to herself, calling her sister, “Ah, Byeol, remember to go to your academy today, all right?”

“Okay, eonni,” her sister replies, “you’re at the courthouse, aren’t you?”

“Hmm, I have a case to win,” she replies, and Byeol wishes her good luck before the call goes silent, and she allows herself a rare moment of self-reflection, taking in the image of the Courthouse. It’s imposing, but she curiously feels at home here, in the middle of the city where the noise of the cars is so loud, she can’t hear the person next to her sometimes. There’s something magical about the courthouse, and she isn’t romanticising it, but the idea of fighting for justice, no matter how imperfect, it fills her with pride, even more so when she knows that what she is doing is for good.

Not to say that there aren’t any downsides to it, either. She gets threats almost on the daily, from disgruntled clients and from people who want her to take the case, even though she knows it would be an affront to her dignity. The Dean’s voice floats into her ear, reciting the Attorneys-at-act law that allows her to reject a case if she wants to. Right. It does not feel like an insult to her now like it had done then, the act, because she chose to take this case on, and yet, here she is, standing in front of the courthouse, wearing her nicest clothes (Yeseul had raised an eyebrow, but she was too tired to pay any attention to her) and dreading her turn to go inside.

“Eonni!” a voice calls out, and it’s Yeseul, dressed for a case, “how long do you have before you have to go in?” Sol doesn’t need to check her watch to tell the time that is left, ten minutes on the dot, and she’s waiting for her client to come through, still in police custody, something which she had failed to stop, “are you staring off into space again?”

She recovers quickly, “no, I was just waiting for the defendant to be brought here by the police.” She turns to Yeseul, who’s evidently not had much sleep, “why are you here in my case? Didn’t you wrap one up today?”

“Ah, I did,” Yeseul smiles, taking a hold of Sol’s arm, “but I’m here now, aren’t I? I thought you would need some support, you know, since you—”

She doesn’t complete the sentence. She doesn’t need to. Sol smiles at her, loops their arms together, and says, “do you want to have coffee?”

Yeseul grins, “I’d love to.”

—

No matter how many times she’s walked in here, and no matter how much the courthouse makes her feel at ease, there’s still a part of her that is anxious when she stands in front of it, hoping that she might be able to provide adequate justice to the person she was defending. It throws her off sometimes, the court of law. But she can always find her way back to it, and perhaps this is why she loves it, loves being able to defend people from being betrayed by the same system that they had put so much trust in, betrayed, just like she had been. It’s as though the law is apologising to her, albeit in its own, slightly twisted way.

The defendant, Je Sang-Hee, sits at her designated position, looking at her, and Sol draws herself up to her full height, careful to not catch anyone’s eye on the other side of the courthouse. Its oddly suffocating, the courthouse today, the air thick with a sort of anticipation that she doesn’t really want to address. Yeseul squeezes her arm, whispering, “you’ll do good, eonni,” and all of a sudden, she’s standing there, alone, with only her wits there for help. Shit. I wish I had had gotten drunk last night. At least this would have been hazier.

She approaches the bench, the defendant sitting silently, and tries to reassure her, “don’t worry, we’ll clear your name, all right?” she’s met with silence, as Sang-Hee only nods, her eyes welling with unshed tears. It’s heart-breaking, the way Sang-Hee has accepted her punishment, accepted that she would be going to prison anyway, so, nothing really matters. Sol doesn’t want that for her. She doesn’t want that for anyone, not even the worst of criminals. Sure, she may not be defending them in the court of law, but everyone should benefit from the assumption of innocence. She may not be the one speaking up for them, but she does wish that people have the opportunity to prove themselves innocent.

There aren’t many people in attendance in the courthouse today, which is a blessing, but she also has to deal with pesky reporters stationed outside, who seemed to have taken an interest in the woman accused of attempted murder, despite having really, no evidence against her. It was funny, how people jumped to conclusions, just because of the person’s backgrounds, or due to a particular defamatory article that may have been published about them online. Sang-Hee had had one published about her, filled with lies so vile that Sol couldn’t even read through it once.

“Sang-Hee ssi,” She says, approaching the defendant’s bench, “how are you feeling today?”

Je Sang-Hee looks at her, eyes still shining with tears, and lowers her gaze. She can’t even speak. Sol is angry, of course, but even more than the anger that simmers inside of her, is frustration, for not being able to protect her client, frustration at being unable to be the person there for the victim.

“Eonni,” Yeseul’s voice drags her out of her little reverie, “eonni, I think Joon-hwi oppa is here now.”

Sol squints at the younger girl, “who told you that?”

Yeseul holds up her phone, “Bok-gi is going to be here too, so he texted me. The two of them are going to come along, him and Jiho. Jiho should be here by now, but he hasn’t texted yet.”

Sol just—stares at Yeseul for a moment, trying to understand the volley of information that had just been thrown at her, in a manner not unlike that of Professor Yang, the man who, Sol recollects with regret, had heard about this whole mess from Sol B, but had not once offered to help. She didn’t need his help, though. It’s just that he could have offered to help her, and it would have been nice.

“Eonni,” Yeseul says, warning evident in her voice, “he’s here.”

What she doesn’t say, but Sol knows, is the sentence, don’t worry, I’m here for you. I’ll be here for you. She didn’t need it, per se, but it felt nice to know that at least one person had her back in this courthouse. Bok-gi was of course, on her side too, but she knew he wouldn’t sacrifice Joon-Hwi. Not now, anyway.

“You have your back to the Prosecutor’s bench,” Yeseul elbows her lightly, and she realises that yes, she has indeed been standing with her back towards the Prosecution’s bench all this while, and most importantly, there was someone behind her.

“Attorney Kang,” She knows that voice, has heard it in her head for years now, but Kang Sol finds herself unable to lift her gaze from the linoleum floor as she grasps the warm hand that was now being offered to her, “nice to meet you, finally.”

There’s a teasing lilt to the last word, a certain edge to the syllable that she knows all too well, having been subjected to it for hours on end, in classes, in the copy room, in the café, even in her mind. It’s from a voice she knows all too well, someone she had wronged.

Courage, Kang Sol.

“Hello, Prosecutor Han,” she looks up, extending one hand to the man in front of her, and—

She didn’t have any expectations of how she would meet Han Joon-Hwi after so many years, but in the deeper recesses of her mind, she had a thought; of his eyes widening at seeing her face for the first time in so many years, her falling in love with him all over again. She had thought of looking—no, not just looking, looking at him, for the first time in so many years, after that one fateful day when she ignored the words of her heat and went running far away from him, perhaps falling in love all over again.

Instead—she feels nothing. Perhaps a pang of guilt somewhere in the recesses of her mind, but when she looks into the eyes of Han Joon-Hwi, her best friend, the person she had fallen in love with, Kang Sol doesn’t see anyone but a weathered prosecutor, the boy who had called out her name on graduation day in Hankuk Law school long gone. Even though he looks not a day older, even though his eyes still crinkle in the same way when he smiles, and his hand still holds the same weight when he takes her hand for a handshake, but she can’t find the boy she was in love with anymore.

“Attorney Kang,” he grins, and his voice is the same, teasing when he looks at her, smiles at her, but he is her opponent, she has to defeat him today. This isn’t preparing for mock trials and judicial competitions, where they only played at being lawyers and prosecutors, this is real life. Je Sang-Hee’s life depends upon her, Kang Sol, winning this case. Against him, Han Joon-Hwi.

“Noona, nice to see you again,” Bok-gi pushes forward, giving her a warm hug, which does its job to dissipate all errant thoughts of a boy whose smile had haunted her in her dreams, “I’ll be watching today, my law firm asked me to—”

“Don’t worry about that,” she assures him, “you can take all the notes you want.” He’s still looking at her, she realises when she lets go of Bok-gi, Han Joon-Hwi is still staring at me. Do I have something in my teeth? “Good luck today, Prosecutor Han.”

He grins at her then, dimpled smile making her heart skip a beat, and says, “I don’t need luck, Attorney Kang,” before sauntering off to his seat.

Kang Sol clenches her jaw. Asshole.

He wasn’t sure how it would be—their meeting for the first time, but Joon isn’t going to say he’s dissatisfied with it. sure, she’s grown up now—she isn’t Kang Sol A anymore, she goes by just Kang Sol, and he doesn’t have the pesky tag of second-round judicial passer hanging around his neck anymore.

She had stared him down, and to no surprise, he still found her beautiful. Sure, he had always thought that there was a sort of magnetic aura around Sol, something that commanded the attention of an entire room when she walked in. She looked the same as she had looked, five years ago, when he had tried to confess to her, and she had rejected him. Sol hadn’t told him that she was rejecting him, at least not explicitly; Han Joon-Hwi was a man who could take a hint, especially if it ran away from him while he was in the middle of his confession. Really, Kang Sol. You made me chase you all the way to this courtroom.

A hand slams down on his desk, and Seo Jiho’s irritated voice tells him, “If you’re going to stare, at least do it properly.”

He sputters, suddenly thankful that his co-prosecutor was running late, as he stood up to stare at his ex-roommate, who was porting a very uncharacteristic grin, “what do you mean by that? I wasn’t staring.”

“Sure, you weren’t,” Jiho says, and even Bok-gi sniggers at him, “you were just looking in the general direction of Sol noona, so much so that everyone in the room thinks that the two of you are either dating, or that you want to kill her. Personally, I prefer the latter.”

He doesn’t say anything, just grumbles under his breath, and Jiho presses on, “did you prepare well for this case? You do realise that your evidence is weak, do you?”

“Ah, of course, hyung knows it,” Bok-gi steps in to intervene, and Joon-Hwi thinks for a moment that yes, Bok-gi was always one of the better ones, and then he opens his mouth again, “he’s just ignoring all the things he said before entering the courthouse, and proving to all of us how much of a hypocrite he is.”

Joon glares at Bok-gi, who is giggling at him now, and turns to look at the judge’s bench a pout on his face. Sure, he had proclaimed in the car that he would “not be looking at her, nope”, and the fact that it had taken him exactly three minutes to break that promise was bit laughable, but his friends didn’t have to rub it into his face.

“I don’t understand,” Bok-gi asks, “why are you still hung up on her? You basically took this case just so you could meet her again, and even though the two of you haven’t talked in years, you still talk about her, you still ask about her when you get the chance, so what is going on?”

Joon-Hwi doesn’t answer. He knows what is going on, why he has been so intent on meeting Kang Sol, even after so long, but he doesn’t want to—no, he can’t tell Bok-gi that. He feels a pang of guilt whenever he even thinks of telling Bok-gi the actual reason behind him running after Sol, even though she had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him.

He wonders, sometimes.

His co-prosecutor arrives in the courtroom, almost gliding over the floor to take their seat, and he can see Kang Sol shrink back a little, obviously intimidated. He doesn’t hide his smile anymore, not that he needs to either. She didn’t have to get flustered over his co-prosecutor entering the damn courtroom. She’s never done that, at least from what Bok-gi and Yebeom have told him; even Jiho had pitched in with his own comments sometimes, knowing exactly how much it pissed him off, but he still did it. Every time he met Bok-gi or he met Yeseul, he would ask about her, waiting for them to respond with “oh, she’s doing okay, oppa” and “I met her a few weeks ago, she was fine, hyung” and they move on after that, but he can’t.

They don’t possibly expect him to move on from her, do they?

“All rise,” the bailiff announces, and he dutifully stands up, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sol gently helps the defendant to rise up alongside her, before being seated again. She still did that little thing when she looked around the entire courtroom for people watching her, he thinks to herself. She’s still the same Sol. No, she’s different now. We both are. We both are different, but there’s still things about her that remind me of the times we spent in Hankuk.

“Prosecutor Han,” the judge tells him, and he stands up quickly to his feet, “begin.”

“Thank you, Your Honour,” He says, walking out to the defendant’s bench, “defendant Je Sang-Hee, you were indicted on charges of attempted murder, following an attack on your fiancé, Seo Changmin, on the fourteenth of November, two weeks prior to your indictment.”

“Yes, I was,” she begins, “but I didn’t do anything to—”

“I’ll be the one asking questions here,” he cuts her off with a dismissive wave of his hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Sol draw an almost-imperceptible breath, shaking her head at him. She isn’t flustered. He’s very sure she isn’t flustered, because the two of them have been on opposite sides of each other, time and time again, “could you confirm that Seo Changmin suffered injuries because of you?”

She stares at him, defiant, and replies, “he did not suffer injuries because of me, I found him and I called the police, I’ve told you this.”

“Yes, you have,” Joon walks to the front of the witness’ bench, “but your whereabouts were also unknown that night, until that fateful moment when you actually found your fiancé, and proceeded to assault him. Is that right?”

She looks at him, scowling. He’s hit a nerve, apparently. They had been harping on that aspect for far too long than what was necessary, Joon had noticed when he had been preparing. He couldn’t go that way when he questioned her, because he knows Sol has prepared for it.

So, he changes his track of questioning, “Ms Sang-Hee, would I be wrong in assuming that Mr Changmin had visited you five times over the three days prior to the accident?”

She stares at him, “he is my fiancé. Or he was, before the accident happened. It wasn’t unusual for him to visit me multiple times in a single day.”

He stops, “and yet, when the police asked you about the reason of his visits, you chose to remain silent, evading the question—”

“Objection,” Sol says calmly, standing up from her seat, “the prosecution cannot ask leading questions.”

“Sustained,” the judge replies smoothly, even before Joon-Hwi has a chance to respond, “Prosecutor Han, you cannot possibly expect me to accept this in the courthouse.”

He nods his head, slightly irritated, now that she has taken his advantage away, “moving on, Ms. Sang-Hee, when you found Seo Changmin unconscious, why did you not call for an ambulance? You waited ten minutes to call an ambulance, which most people would argue, looks strange, does it not?”

She doesn’t back down an inch. Good. He hadn’t thought she would either. They didn’t have enough evidence to show that she was guilty, her indictment based primarily on circumstantial evidence that even the most punishment-happy of all judges would find difficulty agreeing with. But they had had her indicted, and now they were here, trying to get her a sentence that would be as heavy as possible. Sol had been right. He didn’t have to worry about the defendant, not as a prosecutor. He just had to punish people to the full extent of the law.

“I tried to wake him up multiple times, but he didn’t respond,” Sang-Hee responds, staring at the judge, “I didn’t think it was out of the ordinary, since he had always had a drinking problem, but when he didn’t respond to me calling his name in the morning, that was when I grew worried.”

She looks at him once, then back to her lawyer, Sol, who looked as though she wanted to strangle him. good. This means I’m winning, and turns back to him, “it was like him to come back drunk, so drunk that he could barely remember where he was, and his friends would drop him off at my house, with apologies, but he would repeat his behaviour. I wasn’t too worried when he didn’t respond to my calls at night, but by morning, he would usually be awake and demanding breakfast. That was when I started to get anxious.”

“Anxious? Not worried?” he asks, curiosity spiked by her peculiar choice of words, “were you anxious that he was actually dead? Or were you anxious that your—”

“he’s my fiancé, of course I would be anxious if he was not responding to my calls,” Sang-Hee stares at him, “you must not have dated a lot if you think I wouldn’t have been worried about my fiancé.”

A wave of laughter runs through the court, and he can feel the tips of his ears turn red. Even the judge cracks a smile, and he can see both Bok-gi and Jiho sniggering. They’re never going to let me live this one down, “so, you called the police then, who found your fiancé almost dead from a drug overdose.”

“Yes,” she looks at her hands, fingers intertwined, “they told me he had taken it about four hours before I called them.”

Ah, there it is. He knew it would come to this, he had known there was no way to win this case after all, even if he really did want to win. There were things he couldn’t do after all, despite being what they called a ‘star prosecutor’. “No more questions.”

The smile on Sol’s face is enough to tell him that he’s lost this case. Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel disappointed, even as his partner shoots dirty looks at him, a clear violation of courtroom conduct, but he can’t bring himself to care, fixated on the way she looks while cross-examinating the defendant, the way she turns to the judge and says “no more questions, your Honour.” It’s a far cry from the Sol he remembers at law school, the one who would have him act as prosecutor whenever she went up in a mock trial, even if he had been assigned the role of prosecutor, going up against her. She always asked him to help her practise, and like the fool that he was, he always helped her. Even now, as he stands there, watching her, it’s almost as though he is back at Hankuk; almost, but not quite.

“Court adjourned for the day, and will convene for the next trial on—” Joon can feel himself growing more and more antsy, as the judge announces the date for the next trial, and that Sang-Hee can be released from Judicial custody, especially since her health had been failing due to the stress of the trial and asthma, from which she had suffered since she was young.

He hurries out of the courthouse, only to be cornered by Jiho and Bok-gi at the entrance, Bok-gi with a large grin on his face and Jiho with his trademark expressionless look, although he knows both of them were going to tease him about this, possibly till he died and perhaps even then, they would find a way to sneak it into his eulogy.

Strangely, he didn’t mind it at all.

“Hyung, where are you going?” Bok-gi asks, even as Joon desperately tries to catch a glimpse of Sol through the now-closing courtroom doors, “shouldn’t you be preparing for the next date?”

He looks at Bok-gi for a second, eyes widening, “what are you talking about?”

Bok-Gi’s smile gets wider, if that’s possible, “really? What were you thinking about, hyung? I was talking about the next court date.”

Joon-Hwi huffs, “I was thinking about the same thing, Min Bok-Gi; now, if you will—”

Jiho opens his mouth to say something, but Joon barrels past the two of them, running down the stone steps and to the driveway, where his car was parked, and, presumably, Sol’s too. She’s walking faster now, and he has to run to keep up with her. Her ponytail bobs as she takes quick steps, in a hurry to get away from the courthouse complex. He doesn’t blame her at all.

“Sunbae!” he calls out, loud enough to catch the attention of quite a few people, “Sunbae!”

That catches her attention all right, and she stops in her tracks, turning to him, an irritated expression on her face. It doesn’t stay for long, however, fading just as quickly as it came, “so, you’re still sticking with that name, Han Joon-Hwi?”

He grins, “of course. It wouldn’t be me and you, if I didn’t call you Sunbae, Sunbae.”

She stares at him, with an expression he can’t quite place. “I thought we didn’t have that sort of a relationship anymore, Prosecutor Han.”

And, there it is. He can’t deny it and say that it doesn’t hurt to be treated by Sol this way, but he’s nothing if not tenacious, so he pushes on, “you did good today, in there.”

She doesn’t say anything, simply nods her head, before replying with a curt, “good job today, Prosecutor Han.” Of course, she would say that; he doesn’t want to admit it, but it sort of feels like she had slapped him full across the face. Who am I kidding, if she had done that, it would have perhaps hurt less. He feels like a fool, standing in the middle of the road, calling out her name, and a years-old nickname that she didn’t like, and one that he felt only held significance for him.

What they had not had was closure; or at least for him, it was that, the absence of a final answer to his unasked question, something between them still hanging in the air. She could ignore it, live on with her life, but he cannot. There should have been closure, he’s told himself time and time again, or was I just too unimportant for her to even give a damn. It isn’t true, he knows, Sol wouldn’t do that to him, or to anyone else for that matter, but on some nights, it becomes impossible. He doesn’t blame her either; he blames his own self for the loss of his closest friend. If only he hadn’t been stubborn enough to ask her out on the day of graduation. He should have waited a little bit more.

But then, should he have waited?

“Sol!” he calls out again, jogging lightly to keep up with her steps, “Sol! Wait up for a minute—”

He’s interrupted, Sol turning abruptly to meet him halfway, which results in him having to backtrack, “what do you want now?”

He smiles brightly, “how about Pyongyang naengmyeon? I know a place nearby that’s good.”

She stares at him, like she can’t really figure out his deal. He holds up his hands, “look, all I’m asking for is a meal. No strings attached.”

Surprisingly, she nods once, turning on her heel, “lead the way, Prosecutor Han.”

I should not be doing this.

Her phone buzzes, and it’s Yeseul. You should not be doing this, the text reads, and Sol has to gather all her willpower to not scream in the middle of the street, I know, I fucking know, I shouldn’t be doing this with him right now, going for lunch when there’s—no, I just cannot do it.

She thinks it would be good, for her to have one lunch with him, to get him out of her system, Yeseul’s wisdom about not having lunch with someone who is technically her opponent in the court be damned. She just needs to have lunch with him once, and then she can stop feeling this way.

The restaurant is small, but bright light filters in through the large windows as they take a seat at one of the empty tables. There are a lot of them, she thinks, looking around, just after the lunchtime rush, or the restaurant wasn’t a very good one. Either way, she was supposed to be having a meal with Han Joon-Hwi right now, and as Sol takes a seat, she realises she had been vastly unprepared for this meeting.

He doesn’t look like the Joon she knew back in Hankuk, that is certain, but he doesn’t look like what her imagination had unhelpfully supplied her with either. He looks every inch the prosecutor, with dark circles underneath his eyes and that slouching posture she supposes every prosecutor has, as though he had been carrying the weight of the whole world. It’s sad, somehow.

“Are you going to order?”

“Hm?” She turns her gaze, and sure enough, he’s looking at her just like he had done all those years ago, when she had a stupid letter attached to her name like a real-life suffix that followed one around, and he used to lean over tables and grin all up in her face and mock her by saying Sunbae. It’s—uncomfortable. She didn’t think she would revert to her university self so easily, but with him, it feels like second nature, “You said Pyongyang naengmyeon, so we should get Pyongyang naengmyeon.”

“All right,” he teases, but it’s light, the kind of tone one would use with a co-worker, which strikes her as somehow offensive (am I not more important than a co-worker?) and she spots a glint of something else in his eyes, but shakes her head free of the thought, just as he says, “so, how is work?”

She rolls her eyes, “I don’t think you asked me to lunch after all these years just to talk to me about work, Han Joon-Hwi.”

He smiles, “right, I didn’t, two orders of beef bone soup, please.”

She stares at him, “it’s summer,” and turns back to the ahjumma, “two orders of Pyongyang naengmyeon, please.”

He just shakes his head, looking at her in that funny way, and asks, “so, do you remember, or do you not?”

What is he even asking me about? “No, I don’t,” she replies, pouring out water for the both of them, “what are you even talking about?”

He shakes his head at her again, “never mind. Let’s eat.”

She can’t help but feel as though she had just missed something important, at least by the look on his face. Or maybe that’s the naengmyeon talking.

#solhwi #solhwi fanfic #jtbc law school #han joon hwi #kang sol a

30 notes · View notes

aadmelioraa · 3 years ago

Note

CAN I ASK FOR BOTH 1 AND 2 WITH ALDFLAED PLS IM BEGGING

YES YOU CAN!! 1 + 2 being: a conversation you wish had happened in canon + expression of love.

This turned into a whole thing, whoops.

Read below, or on ao3.

Hope (Aethelflaed x Aldhelm, rated T, 1.5k)

When finally she sees Aldhelm again it does her heart good. Despite her insistence to the contrary, the thought that he may have succumbed to his injury crosses Aethelflaed’s mind more than once in the weeks that pass between their meetings.

He’s speaking with one of the guard at the other side of the courtyard and when his eyes flick towards her briefly a restrained smile flits across his face.

She walks towards him at a leisurely pace, waiting for the other man to take his leave before she approaches too close.

He greets her with a bow of his head, bending at the waist by force of habit and grimacing slightly as he does.

“Please do not trouble yourself,” she says, laying a hand on his arm without thinking. He stands as if turned to stone, and she pulls her hand away, heart racing. Despite their exposure, something about this encounter feels even more intimate than their last. She had not expected that.

“Lady. Your victory was well-told.” Aldhelm’s voice is warm, though his eyes remain as shrewd as ever.

“You are looking nearly healed,” she says, no interest in discussing matters of war for now. “I am glad of it.”

His eyes are fixed on her as he replies, “I have recovered, thanks to you.”

“I could not very well have let you bleed to death on my floor,” she chides gently. “If you had wanted to meet your end, you ought to have gone elsewhere.”

He huffs a laugh, followed by another painful grimace, but this time she refrains from reaching out.

“Your husband is within,” he says, glancing towards the palace.

Aethelflaed frowns. “Why have you returned, Aldhelm? Do you not fear he may strike again?”

And as he meets her eyes, she knows the answer, and it sends a familiar quiver through her the way his confession had those weeks ago.

He’s returned for her. Out of duty to her, and to Mercia—they are one and the same to him. It is equal parts calculated and reckless to slink back to the side of the man who’d tried to kill him—who’d tried to kill them both. But she was here, and so was he, and their reasons were not so dissimilar.

“I will happily leave if you have an errand for me,” he says, a hint of levity entering his tone. “But otherwise, my place is here.”

“I have no errand for you,” she replies, narrowing her eyes as she shakes her head. “My only orders were to stay alive, and so far you have not failed me.”

A smile pulls at the corner of his mouth again, this time he barely fights it. “If you are pleased, then so am I.”

She sweeps by him with one last glance as she says, “I must greet my husband. I am sure he will be as happy to see me alive as he was to see you.”

And though his face is gone from view, she can see his gentle smile deepen clearly in her mind’s eye.

***

Aldhelm retires that evening well after the rest of the household has gone to bed. He had hoped to catch one more glance of Aethelflaed as he sat by the fire, but she had vanished some time ago.

When he reaches his room something stays his hand at the door. It is closed, as he’d left it, but his years of soldiering had made him attuned to any small changes in his surroundings, and it has saved his life too many times for him to second-guess his instincts.

He draws his weapon and pushes the door open gingerly. He had been right. The room is not empty.

Aethelflaed sits on the edge of his bed mending a tunic—his tunic—and looking so at ease he nearly questions whether by some trick he’d arrived in her room instead of his own.

“You do not sleep, Aldhelm?” she asks easily, glancing up from her work just long enough to cause the color to rise in his face.

He returns his knife to his belt and closes the door behind him, not sure he should, but certain it cannot remain open. “I found myself lost in thought. But you, Lady, are also awake. Do you not sleep either?”

Aldhelm steps closer, heart pounding, and sees the garment she’s mending is the robe he’d been wearing that fateful night in Winchester. The bloodstain, by some miracle, had disappeared after vigorous scrubbing with ash and cold water, but the jagged rift in the fabric had remained, Aldhelm finding himself strangely averse to repairing it. The gash was an echo of the scar on his own body which served as a warning that might reinforce his better judgement should he find himself again at odds with Aethelred. A warning which now has been turned into a message with quite a different tone. Wounds will heal, rifts will be repaired, and his heart will continue beating for a singular purpose—he can no longer deny it does. He had admitted it to her, those weeks ago, now he has admitted it to himself.

“You needn’t trouble yourself.” Objection is futile for many reasons, not least of which is the mesmerizing effect that her elegant and efficient needlework has on him.

“It’s no trouble,” she replies. “And I’m nearly done.” Indeed, as she speaks she pulls the final stitch and inspects her work. “There. You can hardly tell.”

When she offers him the garment he accepts, and it feels somehow heavier than he remembers. Her hands linger near his, fingers buried in the folds of the fabric.

“My lady, you endanger yourself by being here.” He cannot help but remind her.

She lifts an eyebrow in that authoritative way of hers. “You ought to worry for yourself more than you do me, Aldhelm.” And as she traces along the line of her stitches her fingers brush his.

He’s struck suddenly by a memory from several years ago: Aethelflaed in profile, sitting atop her horse as she commands the Mercian fyrd. Something about her expression now makes it impossible for him not to recall that moment. He wonders if perhaps that was the moment when his heart had begun to turn towards her. He cannot be sure, for he had found himself ambushed by sentiment before he’d even realized that his affections had been capable of attaching themselves to such an object.

“I should let you rest.” That thoughtful line he has come to love so well has appeared between her brows.

“I am honored to have been visited by such a careful seamstress,” he says, taking a step back to allow her aside.

She smiles slightly. “I was told as a child to make my stitches neat, or they would not hold.”

“Precision is a strong suit of yours, I have noticed,” he remarks, awed that still she does not leave.

“Not, however, of my husband’s,” she replies, her tone darkly humorous. “And thank God for that.”

“Why are you here, Lady?” The question is as blunt as it is inevitable. It is late, and he is tired, and she is too exceptional not to be aware the effect she has on him.

Her expression turns sober, and he curses himself for his candor. “My apologies, I did not mean—“

She shakes her head. “Do not apologize. You are right, I should not be here."

“You do not intend to tell me why you’ve broached propriety for such a small task?” Aldhelm asks, folding the length of the garment in half and setting it aside.

“It is not a small task,” she replies, and lays a hand on his chest.

He places his hand atop hers as if to confirm he had not imagined it her touch.

“I should let you rest,” she repeats, but instead of moving away, she moves closer.

“You should rest as well,” he replies. “But only after you reveal your true purpose.”

Her eyes crease with a smile. “Do you suspect me of duplicity?”

“If you no longer suspect me, I feel compelled to maintain the balance myself.”

She breathes a laugh, but her grave look returns.

“If I were a more hopeful man,” he brushes his thumb along the curve of her cheek, “I’d invent some foolish reason for your presence.”

“Perhaps, Aldhelm,” she says, and his heart leaps at the sound of his name on her tongue, “Perhaps you may allow yourself a little foolishness, on this occasion only.”

He gently lifts her chin towards him. Her eyes are bright and clear, no trace of uncertainty in her face.

“I am afraid I shall play the fool too well,” he murmurs.

She rises on her toes to kiss him. “I have no doubt you will regain your reason, before long.”

And he wraps his arms around her and gives in to hope, at least for a night.

#the last kingdom #aethelflaed x aldhelm #aethelflaed #aldhelm #tlk fic #marv-llous #the expression of love is not quite overt but i hope this fits the bill!#kat writes

15 notes · View notes

ughgclden · 3 years ago

Note

bee, love, don’t apologise, please, it’s okay, and first and foremost, are you alright?? i hope you’re taking care of yourself, love, but i understand, i don’t think there’s been a year since third grade that i haven’t gotten pneumonia in the winter. I hope you’re feeling alright!!

honestly, dead poets society is one of my only personality traits anymore, i find myself drawing parallels to it constantly, for no reason but i love thinking about it. i’ve watched it so many times at this point, it’s,,, concerning. those tests always take me way less time than they give me, and i used to feel really awkward, i remember i took a bio one once, four hours they gave me, 45 minutes in, i was finished, and the moderator didn’t believe me. i aced it too, like the silly little neil kinnie i am. i’ve gotten used to the ‘worse’ side of being a neil kinnie, and honestly, now that my mum isn’t as controlling about everything as she used to be, it’s easier to deal with. i remember once, i’d gotten an 89 in algebra, and she threatened to pull me out of the fall show. that was a neil perry moment if i ever had one lol. the biggest thing these days is just imposter syndrome, imposter syndrome like oh you’re not hispanic enough, but also, you’re not queer enough, nonbinary enough, things like that. It’s exacerbated some days, but i try.

i watched the it movies on my cousin’s hbo,,, i may or may not have used it without her permission since she forgot to log out of my computer, but that’s neither here nor there. i remember having such a hard time taking the first one seriously initially, because of all the new kids on the block jokes, having a mum who was obsessed with them made it hard, especially when i actually got them all- in truth, the only midnight premiere i’ve been able to make was the force awakens, and i had school the next day too. i’m definitely a richie kinnie, and i have the internalised homophobia (only towards myself though) to prove it /hj my waterbottle has both a sticker of neil on it and a sticker of the r + e carving on it. in case there was any doubt about me lmao. stan kin makes sense for you, honestly, i can see it, i can see it.

okay so listen- no really, i’d bought them with the intention of only drinking half of one that night and spreading them out like that, but then came 9:45pm, and i had a research paper (on womens’ pockets/lack thereof) due at 10am that i simply hadn’t even started, so i downed them all in an hour and got the paper turned in at 5:56 in the morning. but i scare you huh? /hj bee, you’re too sweet, in truth, i’m fairly inelegant, but i try, as for the comforting and cosy, i’ll take you at your word, since that is something only someone interacting with me could discern. i do try to be kind to others for the most part. mainly i think because i’m usually on the other end of mean people.

i’m just perceptive like that bee, i dunno what to tell you, something just tells me, you know? /j and thank you, i always feel a little silly talking about it, because most of the tattoos i want are dead poets society tattoos, i guess some part of me, within the part of me that feels so incredibly tied to it, feels as if if i were able to get a tattoo i’d owe it to the movie in some way, if that makes any sense. i’ve already begged a friend of mine to go with me to get my first once i get to new york, the question though, is what to get first. i’ve got time to make a decision (for once in my life) i just spend a lot of time thinking about it.

honestly, i have never known a school rule to make sense. banning ripped jeans? banning dyed hair? it’s almost as if if they don’t stifle everything natural about kids expressing themselves they dont feel like they’re doing anything. but i digress. the same-sex couple rules were. awful. 12 year old me had enough going on without having an administrator yell at my friend and i for hugging in the courtyard and not leaving until we were a foot apart, but hey.

okay, jumping over a fence to go to a mcdonalds? how coming of age indie movie manic pixie dream girl of you /hj

200k words, is that a challenge? also ahaha not at all like my italian uncle up there just opened a ‘pizzeria’ /hj but mob!star au? might be a project i should start… granted, i’m not as good a storyteller as you, but i can try.

when i was little, i wanted to revolutionise things, i guess. i even actually wrote out a campaign, i wonder if its still somewhere. thank you for believing in me, but these days, bee, i’m thinking less about changing the world, and more about making it the next few weeks, and then the ones after that. little star was aware of so much, but also so little. i wonder what they’d think of me now, honestly.

i did, in fact, teach archery, it was so fun but my arms got SO SORE, and the kid who challenged my archery skills seemed surprised when i actually,, hit the bullseyes. my inner susan was happy then. incidentally the experience is also why i made a playlist called “touchstarved and wanting to teach you to shoot a bow” which low-key slaps when i’m lonely. and bee omg i cannot believe you said im better than susan pevensie i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life thank you- and yes, yes it was named aslan, however did you guess? /j prince caspian<33333

i’ll let you know my results from the tournament, as soon as they come out, and i say this having just put on pjs after taking off my suit, and sitting in the room with my cat in my dear evan hansen hoodie, frantically refreshing the results page because i’m anxious and impatient.

i hope you have a good night, with fitful and restful sleep, i’m sorry this got to be so long, but you know me, i certainly can talk. i’m honestly shocked i even made it to finals, considering i was running off four hours of sleep, having gone to bed at three last night. whoops.

all my love, hugs, and a warm mug of tea,

yours,

star✨

p.s i said yes so that?? happened?? it honestly feels surreal but we’re not gonna be in the same place anymore come the end of this year, so that’ll be something to deal with

P.p.s might just start adding spanish or latin or russian phrases to these if i keep having to translate your cute french bee /lh /hj

star my love, i know you said don't apologise, but i think the word 'sorry' makes up about 60% of my vocabulary. i'm okay!! was just a bit icky, but luckily i've recovered now!!

that's so nice - and again, makes so much sense for you. i think you would work perfectly in welton, i know it. i love bringing the messages from that film into my own life, as silly as it may sound. i'm astonished, and so fucking jealous of you. i used to finish tests maybe half an hour early, but hours is so impressive??? fun fact i did finish my physics final in about 45 minutes and slept for the other hour <3 neil would b proud my love!!! oh my god - i'm so sorry that happened??? but that is also so neil kinnie??? it seems futile me saying this, but i assure you that you are hispanic enough, and queer enough, and non-binary enough. you are enough, period. more than enough even. imposter syndrome is the worst, and i'm so so sorry you're dealing with it.

she did that to herself, you just saw an opportunity /lh a midnight premiere of the force awakens sounds so cute though omg - i hope you had the absolute best time. the r + e carving actually broke me. as a die hard reddie shipper since 2017, seeing the movie make it basically canon?! had me a mess in the cinema.

you are ridiculously comforting and cosy, everything about you feels like a warm hug from a familiar face and i love it. and the way you write is so smooth, it makes me think of a quill smoothly gliding across parchment, the deep black ink unsmudged and pristine. that seems a little pretentious of me, but oh well.

i also want some dps tattoos!! i desperately want "and still we sleep" from todd's poem, and was also so so tempted to get an outline drawing of meeks + pitts dancing on the roof. i love that, and i can't wait until the day you get it, whichever one it may be. my one concern is becoming addicted to them and making my bank account suffer - at least my piercing obsession is a little easier to fund /hj

i've NEVER gotten that - they claim it's 'distracting' but how on earth would it be?? when i got to college, no one was distracted by my dyed hair, and i certainly wasn't distracted by other people's outfits or painted nails. you were yelled at. for hugging. a friend.. what the fuck is wrong with these people??

just call me ramona flowers star /j it was possibly the highlight of my school career, sans hiding in the back room of the music room to avoid a maths test

i bet you're an amazing storyteller, if these letters are anything to go by. it would be a new york times best seller, i know it

we all have to take things one step at a time, i think. that's the only way i really get through things if i'm honest. one day after another and the cycle repeats. i love wondering what young me would think of me now - i'd probably be intimidated of myself, but i like to think i'd be proud that i'm still here, pursuing something i love

that playlist. sounds nothing short of sheer perfection. i too am touch starved and want to teach someone to shoot a bow - even though i.. cannot shoot a bow... but i can wield a sword so, it's close enough.

i saw your message about the tournament results - im so fucking proud of you!!!! you deserve it so so much and i couldn't be happier for you. see, your words and ideas are changing the world, even if you don't realise it.

ps; that is so fun???? omg im so happy for you star, you deserve tis <33 i hope towards the end of this year whatever happens leaves you both happy, no matter how far the distance.

pps; omg no.. please don't do that.. aha that would be awful... definitely wouldn't make my heart race.. haha not at all

all of my love, star. pardon the pun, but you are out of this world ;) i'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes;

il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé <3

#asks <3 #anon asks!#star anon #long post

2 notes · View notes

thekidultlife · 4 years ago

Note

Word prompt request pls? Minghao and hands?

(A/N: I uh...if you guys have been following my blog and Leanne's, we've been watching an anime called A Certain Scientific Accelerator and have been going crazy over it for a past few days. I always loved that series and took the time to read the novels, so this was directly inspired from it....i know you guys wanted some fluff but im in a mood for horror these days 😂 -Hyeri)

◇

"Just a little bit more."

In this deep dark underbelly of a certain city of science, lies a dim luminance amidst the abyss. Light reflected from the human-sized cylinder filled with an unknown liquid, illuminating the large room with a freakishly green glow.

"Just a bit more...with these hands..."

A young man whispered to himself little encouragements as he continued to dance his fingers on the keyboard. His monitor was showing various stats as cables big and small wrapped around him and the cylinder in a snake-like hold.

Despite the speed of his hands, the young man was holding back sobs, puncturing his voices of encouragement like a pierce through the heart.

"I'll...I'll grant your wish..."

In this deep dark underbelly of a certain city of science, a different kind of flower had bloomed.

Years before everything had happened, life was much easier and uncomplicated.

He was Xu Minghao back then, a talented neuroscientist who came to the city lured by generous research grants and advanced technology. There wasn't any downsides as he began his research on dementia and neurological diseases. It was the greatest time of his life surrounded by people who thought like him and appreciated what he was seeking. It was paradise.

Yet when Minghao thought it couldn't get any better, you came along.

"This is test subject 00 - 1a."

You were introduced to him the day, the first of his human volunteers.

"Call me Y/N though! Being called a test subject is pretty awful," you told him as soon as the other head scientist walked away.

Minghao smiled, he had feared you'd be as stoic as the name given to you, yet it seemed those fears were unfounded.

"Then nice to meet you too, Y/N. I'm Minghao," he replied and you grinned, flashing your bright full smile.

"I'll be in your care, doc!"

Y/N was someone who was easy to work with, as Minghao had noted in his logbook. You were nice, cooperative and friendly, and little did he realize how he was slowly growing attached to you.

"Looks like your vitals are fine, Y/N," he told you one day after a regular checkup after a round of tests. "I'm wondering though, why did you become a test subject for this kind of research?"

To his question, you had only grinned. The dull teal green gown on you flowing like the wind as you moved, making him look elsewhere.

"Now, now, doc~ Are you curious?" You asked with a teasing look, "Haven't you found out anything in your research?"

Minghao glanced at you with a frown. "You seem pretty normal, apart from your sudden bouts of unconsciousness."

Smiling, you replied with a twinkle in your eyes. "Looks like you aren't from around here, are you doc?"

It didn't take him long to warm up to you and your bubbly personality. It was the only warmth he could feel down in the desolate and freezing labs, the only one who could make him feel less like a bastard for experimenting with humans and more of a doctor trying to help someone.

"You like to paint, doc?" You asked, munching on a sandwich as you watched him type on a computer.

"From time to time. Why'd you ask?" He replied as he looked up to you.

"Your desktop wallpaper. I felt like you drew that."

"Oh?" Minghao raised his brows, piqued by your comment. "You're quite intuitive, aren't you?"

"I have level 1 telepathy. It's more than enough to sense a few things," you told him with a slight giggle.

"That's amazing. I didn't realize the extent of your abilities," Minghao remarked, to which you only waved your hand in dismissal.

"Not as amazing as others out there," you continued, as your tone went to a downcast turn. "I'm a level one and I can't see a day without suddenly collapsing. Here in this city, people like me are called liabilities."

That was the first time he had heard you open up to him. Minghao gazed at you with heaviness in his heart as you made a bitter and cynical smile.

"I wanted to be useful, just for once in my life. Even if that means I have to be a test subject, at least I can help other people with conditions like me, right doc?"

Despite the smile on your face, Minghao felt the pain and the hurt you had endured all your life. He hated it. He hated how much life had robbed you of the light; a light which you were now ironically seeking at a place where it never shines through.

"It's ok, Y/N," Minghao told you as he wrapped ypu in a tight hug. "I'll help you with your dream. I'll make sure that this research wouldn't be in vain."

With that promise, Minghao began to work extensively. He wanted to remove that painful look on your face as you smiled at him, waving as if it was normal to sit inside a large machine trying to manipulate your brain. It was a sacrifice you were willing to make, and he was determined to achieve your goal.

It was for you. All for you.

Minghao wasn't stupid. He knew you were dying. The bouts of fainting and collapsing was getting more and more frequent. Each passing day, you had grown weaker and he was becoming more and more desparate.

"Her condition is worsening, Dr. Xu. What do we do? She's the most successful of all test subjects."

There was no need for asking.

"Let's move to phase two."

He hadn't thought of it at first, but he had already sunk himself knee deep into the mud without even knowing. He had never realized how twisted this city was and how he had submerged himself in its dark, dark abyss voluntarily.

The first time he saw it was during a failed test.

A huge forced slammed around the thick concrete walls of the room, creating a slight tremor. The glass separating the scientists from the test site suddenly cracked, reflecting the horror on Minghao's face as he saw you pick up a stray iron bar and walked towards a weakened attendant with an uncomprehensible expression on our face that was akin to wicked delight.

"Die. Die. Die. Die! Die!!!"

You screamed, hammering the attendant with the iron bar hard enough to draw blood.

"N-no...stop it! Y/N stop!"

Minghao was the first one to scream as he raced down the testing room, bursting the door open and stopping you before you could commit murder.

He had never recovered from what he saw that day, yet he didn't have the strength to stay away from you.

"...what happened that time, Y/N?" Minghao asked, interviewing you.

You gazed at him, eyes tinged with panic.

"I...I don't know. I'm sorry..."

Minghao could feel the anxiety in your voice, the guilt of killing with your own hands. He didn't want this.

"Y/N, let's just stop this..."

"No!" You shouted, which then turned into soft sobs. "No...no....not now, please, doc. I don't want to be like this anymore...I don't want to be sick anymore."

"Y/N..."

"Please...would you grant me my wish?"

And he did.

And it came with a terrible price.

"No, h-help! Help me please!"

Screams were heard inside the testing room, blood was splattered on the wall. Yet Minghao had become tolerant of it. It was ok. It was for you.

"Who would've thought overlaying a Level 5 esper's thought patterns would make her more stable, though a bit violent. This is good data, Minghao. Congratulations."

He could hear the grant sponsor greet him yet his face remained stoic. He glanced at the folder beside him, not noticing that the research had changed names over the course of several years.

"This marks the first step to the project. Thank you for your work, Doctor."

He was congratulating Minghao as if it was the end. No, it isn't the end. Not yet.

In the deep dark underbelly of a certain city of science, Minghao walked towards the testing room. He could hear water dripping in irregular beats, his steps echoing across the lab.

It was once clean and bright, but now it was in disarray. Abandoned and empty after an incident years before. Minghao had moved on to other projects as well yet he still came back.

"Hi, doc," you greeted him with a bright smile, hands bloody and uniform stained red.

"Hi, Y/N," he replied, his eyes were now heavy and exhausted. Xu Minghao had changed over the years. "How's school?"

Grinning, you pushed the body of a female classmate out of the way so you can reach him.

"It was great! I made some friends, but they didn't really like me..." you pouted, seemingly innocent. "So I made them like me!"

Minghao made a small smile. This was fine. At least you were happy.

In the deep dark underbelly of a certain city of science, a murky darkness filled with despair existed.

-Hyeri

#seventeen #svtcreations #caratwritersclub #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #seventeen the8 #xu minghao #word drabbles

19 notes · View notes

iwritethat · 5 years ago

Text

Jason Todd: Little Red Riding Hood

A/N: Another Halloween one lovelies!! 🎃

Warnings: Language, mildly suggestive themes

>>>>—————————>

Black Mask was extremely aggravating at this precise moment in time, of course the dealer always was but for Jason, now in particular, he had reached another level.

"Aw, Little Red Riding Hood is off her game." Roman taunted further.

The vigilante shot in frustration, the wistful gun smoke mirroring his anger perfectly - there was a reason for the unusual mockery but Jason hadn't figured it out yet.

"Fuck off old man, I'm not in the mood!"

A sudden whistle rebounded off of the walls, the action seemingly harmless at first glance leading Jason to reposition his twin pistols toward a cornered Black Mask once more wearing a smirk under his helmet.

Although, a low warning growl echoed in the silence drawing his attention and eliciting maniacal laughter from the master who called it - deadly crimson irises sparkling in the moonlight and silky matte black fur flowing with the oversized predators movements. An array of questions and string of curses ravaged Red's mind as it prowled around him, the play on Red Riding Hood making much more sense now faced with the Big Bad Wolf - how Roman Sionis acquired such a creature remaining unknown.

The beast displayed a healing factor, recovering from bullet wounds in record time as well as maintaining fluent speed and agility Jason could barely keep up with. Although, through cunning he was able to shoot overhead wires to send multiple heavy steel poles toppling down on the creature with a pained whine. Without waiting for the wolf to awaken, Red Hood was hunting Roman down to finally track him to his escape helicopter on the roof until holding him at gunpoint that is. However, when you stumbled through the door panting heavily and glaring at Black Mask - the villain found an alternate bargaining chip. A shrill scream escaped your lips once you felt the piercing bullet through your shoulder and caused you to lean against the doorframe holding your injury.

"You're such a dick Roman!" Venom laced your tone, practically spitting his name like the bile he was before fading into unconsciousness.

"Ah ah, now Red Riding Hood... you can kill me, or save the civilian." Black Mask held the upper hand, there is no way Red Hoods conscience would allow him to let an innocent die, you looked rough already with claw gashes decorating your clothing as well as the blood sinking down your torso. Probably a victim of that beast he'd fought earlier, leverage for some addict Roman dealt to who couldn't pay up - you were undeserving of this situation.

You awoke with a deep breathe, immediately sitting upright causing a brief dizzy spell. The surroundings were unfamiliar, various blankets coated your body as well as bandages encircling you waist and shoulder which were briskly removed revealing no signs of injury at all - quirks of a werewolf you suppose. However, such phenomenons would be considered suspicious by even Gotham standards and as a result you rewrapped them just in case.

At that moment a handsome young man strolled into your space, carrying clean bandages and pain killers, the sight surprising to see considering his less than emasculate association with Red Hood you supposed.

"You're up then stranger." Your only response was an acknowledging hum to which he didn't seem to mind. Although as soon a he reached for your wrapping you were quick to stand, backing away with a defensive stance.

"Don't touch me."

"Tch, you took a damn bullet! I’m gonna call the hospital." He chastised, not much care to his tone.

"No! I'm fine, the bandages are fine - thanks and I've gotta go."

"Then, I'm getting you back to wherever you came from or else Mask is just gonna hunt you down again dumbass. Luckily for you that bullet took out whatever device he planted in your shoulder." The stranger sarcastically replied, crossing his arms with an exasperated sigh.

You gently traced your shoulder, knowing he no longer had control over you anymore. "Heh, he has crap aim when he’s panicking and thanks Red but I’ll be doing the hunting.”

"The names Jason." He acted indifferent but you could hear his heartbeat increase.

"Red Hood, Jason - same thing, what would you prefer me to call you? Little Red Riding Hood perhaps?" You gave a mischievous smirk, both scents identical to your finely tuned nose. Jason looked defeated, released a bored sigh and disregarded all pretences.

"Tch. Anyway, Roman’s heading out to Santa Prisca in a few weeks so I’ve got that covered and you can be on your way.”

“Perfect, I owe him a bullet. Don’t even try to argue, I’m both resourceful and strong enough to get there on my own regardless - I also know the Santa Prisca base inside out.” You posed a valid justification, albeit still wasn’t enough for him to trust you but that meant you were on the same page.

“For fucks sake...” Any other time he would’ve left tag alongs behind but for some strange instinctive reason, he didn’t think that’d be an option with you.

It required teamwork, a gathering of intel and resources - some of which you acquired via intimidation, crimson irises and razor fangs were persuasive - not that you allowed your unwilling partner to bear witness to such atrocities. Although you suspected he had suspicions regarding your mysterious uncanny ability to retrieve answers yet chose to ignore it.

In time you found yourselves standing in the mist of Santa Prisca’s dense forestry under a veil of stars, you’d arrived later than expected and despite Jason’s determined nature you’d pestered him enough to let you rest until midnight. Of course at that point, you’d have additional power with the full moon revealing itself.

Unfortunately lighting a campfire left you at risk of being detected at such close proximity to their base, but it wasn’t an issue as your natural body temperature kept you warm and as a result you were curled up at the base of a tree in no time. However, your sleep was disturbed when a sudden rush of heat seeped through your body and upon opening your eyes caught a glimpse of Jason strolling away with a stretch before lying on the ground, arms tucked behind his head and gaze towed at the starry sky. Your brows furrowed, not sure as to why he’d felt the urge to drape his jacket over your sleeping form rather than keep it for himself - besides he needed it more. With a huff, you stood up and walked over to him only to throw it back on his chest.

“What the- it’s called chivalry!” Jason begrudgingly whisper yelled after jumping from the unexpected interruption.

“I can hear your teeth chattering from over there and I can’t sleep so shut up and warm up.” Was your heartless reply, smirking as your friend rolled his eyes but as you went back to your spot, it seemed his temperature hadn’t risen as much as you’d liked.

Again you returned, this time stripping your own jacket which left more of your heated skin exposed and placed it over him before lying against his side, head on his chest and arm laid on his waist - more heat radiating from your body in order to warm him up.

“(Y/n) what the hell are you doing?! I’m fine!” Jason was incredibly tense, edging away from you purely due to shock as he justified himself.

“It’s chivalry or whatever, trust me.” With your quiet but stern counter, he couldn’t deny how addicting your warmth was and despite his reservations his body was attracted to your warmth like a magnet.

Soon enough his heart rate lowered, muscles comfortably relaxing as he’d subconsciously embraced your presence and had in fact drifted off to sleep before you did much to your amusement.

Midnight rolled around, your biological clock waking you and forcing your irises to glow a deep crimson but your movements whilst you sat up stirred Jason, since you’d slipped out of his grip, who caught a glimpse of them as you’d turned away - instantly he’d pulled you back, grasping your jaw to face him only to find your natural eye colour glaring back.

“I sleep with you once and you think you can kiss me whenever you want?”

“I wasn’t gonna - your eyes were - lets just get moving.” He snapped from his thoughts, too flustered to form a coherent sentence and instantly removed himself to find his helmet muttering something under his breath.

Upon entering the base, you found yourselves before Black Mask, unconscious henchmen in your wake thanks to your turbulent teamwork.

"How cute, it took longer than I expected but my little lap dog brought you here anyway. Too bad Red Hood." At his words and beckoning whistle, you stepped toward him as Mask ordered...

Like countless times before, you found your body configuring to its alternative form, silky black fur cascading down your back with a deadly snarl echoing across the island landscape.

"Interesting thing with wolves Hood, they have loyalty. Now kill 'im (Y/n)!" You prowled around Roman, standing beside the man who now held the upper hand with his greatest weapon by his side.

"(Y/n)?!" Jason was unreadable, the helmet making sure of that but you could hear the betrayal in his voice, an underlying tone of hurt accompanied your name whilst he silently pleaded with you. Though your focus was no longer on him, a glare was directed at your tail that appeared to be wagging due to Jason's attention - god no.

At least you could hide a crush when not wolfing out, this was just embarrassing... before anyone could notice the uncharacteristic behaviour you chose to speak, voice an octave lower than your usual one.

"Interesting thing about loyalty Roman, it has to be earned. And the Red Hood has most definitely earned mine... you however? Not so much."

Jason lowered his guns as a scattered Roman tumbled to the floor in a failed attempt to scramble away after you savagely barked at him, a large paw on his chest to pin him in place and pearly incisors centimetres from his terrified face.

“...So do I have to get you a collar now, because, I mean... I will...” The vigilante quipped, no doubt less than decent purposes occupying his mind as you sighed in exasperation, looking up at him with a deadly gaze before walking past and ensuring to swish your oversized tail in his face as you went leaving him to a defeated crime lord.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

By the time you’d morphed back and returned to the balcony in a stolen soldiers jacket and spare bottoms from your supplies you found Mask hung from the roof and gagged for the authorities to collect. Jason had waited for you and started on the path back to where you’d arrived on the island in silence, supposedly neither of you knowing what to say to each now alone. However, you felt at ease considering he hadn’t left without you even if it was mildly awkward.

“So that’s why you were so warm...” His voice was calm but quiet, though his words caused you to look up at him and answer somewhat guiltily.

“Yeah.”

“And the interrogations?”

“Yeah...”

“Hm.” It was simple, Jason still processing the information whilst silence once again took over the two of you as the walk continued. His expression remaining contemplative but accepting since he’d removed his helmet.

"Your eyes are beautiful by the way, I couldn’t say that earlier since you wanted to kiss me and all.” Jason wore a kind smile now, sensing your silent self hatred he’d playfully knocked your arm in order to stir a heartier reply.

"Oh you’re hilarious, how you honour me damned prince of Gotham." And he got one.

“Great to sleep with and funny too, you're the whole package aren't you furball?" It seemed as though the snarky exchanges had returned, bringing with them a sense of reassuring normalcy again.

“You’re just upset that you woke up as the little spoon Red Riding Hood.” You rolled your eyes with a challenging smirk, winking at Jason who only returned the gesture.

“Hey, there’s nothin wrong with that - besides it’s your turn next Big Bad Wolf.”

“Bite me.”

“Just tell me where and how hard, I might surprise you wolfie.” His flirtatious comments left you flushed but hadn’t left you defenceless.

“You can shiver tonight.”

#jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #dc #dc imagine #dc gets spoopy

125 notes · View notes

manggojooz · 5 years ago

Text

Pick A Side (Part 10)

pairing: Taehyung x reader

word count: 2,040

genre: university!au; angst; romance; a bit a bit of thriller

warnings: slight references to voyeuristic behaviour

taglist: @destiel1597 @mila271 @hopetookmysoul @ximaginx @honeyursosweet @coffeecupyoongs@bangtanbaesstuff @annoyingpessimist @betysotelo18 @okaysoplshelpme @igot7bangs @tahaing @mochi-and-co

comment: sooooo i wanted this series to be like max 10 parts... guess it’s not really gonna be that way xD and this is a really dialogue-heavy chapter, hope y’all don’t mind it! as always, if you like it please leave a comment or help me reblog it <3

Instincts. Gut feeling. Sixth sense. People use these terms to describe the baseless sometimes inexplicable notions that humans are capable of perceiving.

You once learnt during a photography workshop that some of the best pictures are not the ones which were taken after spending hours framing it, but are products of spontaneity. A good photographer is therefore not the one that can design his shots well, but one who has that baseless inexplicable tingly senses that can anticipate the iconic moment before it arises.

---

“Finally found the both of you”, his tonality seems to never change but they sent tingles down your sides.

“Hey Haejoong, I was just explaining to Y/N the situation...”, Jihyun perks up when she sees him in the room.

Sudden echoes of the vibration from your handphone resting on a chair next to you startles you. You pick it up to see that Taehyung was calling.

“Hey”, you answered the call.

“Where are you?”, he anxiously asked without even a ‘hello’.

“In the painting room. I'm here with Jihyun and Haejoong”, you see Jihyun’s eye flicker a little as she starts to have a hunch about who you were talking to on the phone. Haejoong on the other hand, continued to look at you with his usual gentle demeanour.

You heard some mumbling from Taehyung on the other end, it sounded like he was swearing but you couldn’t hear him clearly at all.

“What are you saying? I can’t hear you”, you quipped.

“Wait there, I’m coming over”, he commanded.

Before you could object he had already hung up.

You stammered awkwardly and looked at the two puzzled humans standing before you, “Umm Taehyung said he’s coming over... not sure why or what for but err...”

“Probably to pick you up”, Haejoong replied almost too nonchalantly before facing Jihyun and asking her, “would you rather leave or wait?” You wondered whether this was the same person you knew from a week ago.

“Let’s go”, Jihyun answered exhaustedly.

“Oh right Y/N, Hyesoo has been asking me whether we need to change our assignment group, given all that is going on right now. She said to let her know by this week. Maybe you could discuss with Taehyung and let’s come to a decision soon?”, Haejoong was suddenly reminded to ask you as he trailed behind Jihyun who wanted to leave before Taehyung reached.

“Yeah, okay”, you barely managed to squeak out a response as the nagging tingly feeling keeps growing.

---

You fiddled around with your phone until you heard footsteps stomping up to the door.

“Hey”, he panted.

“You ran here?”, you questioned.

“Yeah, evidently”, he answered.

“Why...”, you wondered, but suddenly you were reminded that perhaps you wouldn’t like the answer, “... no, don’t answer that.”

Taehyung tilts his head and his forehead lightly frowns in confusion, “Anyway, where’s Jihyun and Haejoong?”, his breath was still shallow.

Did he run here to see Jihyun?

“Jihyun left with Haejoong, I didn’t know if I should ask them to wait or...”, your words were just stumbling out of your mouth, “... I’m sorry, if I knew you wanted to catch her I would have-”

“Hey hey, I'm not here to catch her”, Taehyung’s eyes were intensely observing you now.

“Then why did you run all the way here? I thought it was because I mentioned she was with me”, your fingers pinched each other in this tiny moment of embarrassment and uncertainty. Embarrassed because you felt like you were phishing for an answer you wanted, uncertain because you still didn’t know if it would be the answer you wanted.

“No...”, Taehyung hesitated, “... it’s because you mentioned Haejoong was with you.”

Is this the answer you wanted?

“Taehyung, Haejoong and I...”, you wanted to clarify that nothing is going on, at least not anymore.

“Stay away from him”, Taehyung huffs.

“What?”, you were taken aback by his assertiveness all of a sudden.

“Im Haejoong. Something’s up with him, I don’t know what... but Yoongi hyung just told me that he has always had a crush on Jihyun and even chose to take our pure arts class just to be in the same class as her... but he never acted that way... instead it felt like...”, his eyes quivered as he looked at you.

“It felt like he liked me...”, you were shaking now. There were absolutely no signs that he liked Jihyun before.

“Y/N are you ok? You look-”, Taehyung grew concerned.

“He misled me to think that he wrote the post-its on my photos too...”, you mumbled.

Taehyung’s eyes grew wider. Things are increasingly not adding up for this guy.

“Just stay awa-”, Taehyung began.

“I’m tired Taehyung, walk with me back to the hostel?”, you truly were drained by now.

---

The journey was mostly undisturbed silence. There is a kind of connection in this world that need not be seen or heard.

As the both of you strolled up to the hostel, a female voice calls out your name, drawing both of your attention.

Turns out Helen from the student office had also just came around to look for you with a police officer in tow.

“Don’t worry, I’m just investigating into the matter. It's really cold out here at night, is it alright if we head up to your room to have a chat?”, the investigation officer requested. You agreed and as the group of you were heading up, Taehyung almost too naturally follows behind you.

“Mr. Kim, I think we are good here. Maybe you should consider heading back?”, there was a slant of insistence in her question.

Taehyung eyes you worriedly and you gave him a smile, “It’s ok, I can handle this. See you tomorrow?”

He sighed reluctantly but gives you a brief nod, “Call me if anything happens”, he nagged before turning to head off.

This was still the same caring man that you knew since day one.

---

After a round of questioning in your room, the officer was mostly satisfied. However, he stood up and headed to your window, parting the blinds to peep out into the opposite building, where Jihyun’s room was.

“Is everything alright?”, Helen asked.

“It’s just that, no matter how I look at it, it will take a really powerful camera zoom to get the kind of image in the videos. Ms. Helen, you too know that we have been to each room in this building, no matter how I see it, the angle just doesn’t seem right from any of the rooms either”, he muttered thoughtfully.

“Well, how else can someone get a photo or video from this high a height? We are eight floors above ground, officer”, Helen was seemingly annoyed that she was still stuck here at such an hour.

“What if it wasn’t taken from a building...”, the officer mumbles.

Helen was right about to scoff when you suddenly bolt up from your bed, where you had been sitting during the questioning.

“Maybe... a drone?”, you implored.

It need not be seen or heard, but the connection had been drawn. The officer’s face hardens as he demands Helen bring him all the CCTV footages surrounding the hostel area, this time not just for the entrances of the hostels.

---

“We need to talk”, you messaged Haejoong the next day after classes were done and you ended up meeting him at the rooftop where he was trying out his new Holga.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”, you sputtered, feeling rather apprehensive.

He turns around to face you while packing up his things. “What do you mean?”

“You took the photos of Jihyun and posted them online... right?”, you fought on.

“Why would I do that?”, it sounded as though he was refuting your allegation but at the same time it also sounded as though he was challenging you to find out the answer yourself.

“Exactly, why? My gut feeling says it’s you, but I just cannot logically figure out why you would do it. Especially, now that I know you actually like Jihyun, I just can’t understand what you are trying to do. Why did you get close to me, when you like her? Why-”, you ranted.

“How did you find out that I like her?”, he was momentarily stunned but quickly recovered, “Regardless... tell me honestly, did you at any point think that I liked you?”

It hurts your pride to admit it, but with the way he acted, how could you not have thought that way?

Your silence though, was enough of an answer to the mild-mannered man.

“I honestly didn’t mean to hurt you, but you had to be Taehyung’s ex-girlfriend, I had no choice”, for once there was a desperation starting to bloom in his voice.

“You had no choice but to use me?”, your words were filled with exasperation.

“I needed to show Jihyun that he doesn’t like her, that when he is forced to make a choice between you or her”, his eyes hardens and he does not complete that previous sentence, “It is obvious that his heart is still with you.”

“That is not true, you just haven’t seen the number of times Taehyung-”, you argued back.

“He doesn’t love her. If anyone’s using anyone, it’s not me, it’s him. He's using her to get over you and I cannot watch that happen to her”, he raised his voice at you just enough to show his disapproval.

Your head was quivering in disbelief, “You couldn’t watch that happen to her but you went and posted those photos and videos of her?! I just don’t get it...”

“That is not me”, he replied coldly.

“You are lying”, you insisted.

“It’s not me”, he takes another step closer to you and puts his hands into the huge side pocket of your winter coat. He pulls out your handphone revealing that it was recording your conversation this whole time.

“It’s not me”, he repeats for the third time, slowly, enunciating each word, as if making sure that the recording will pick up his words loud and clear.

He stops the recording and you demand for your phone back as sternly as you could.

“I thought we were at least friends, this is disappointing”, he blinks at you.

He unexpectedly turns his back and starts to leave. You lunge at him to grab at your phone which he was now shoving into his own pocket. The moment you grabbed his arms he hurls you backward and you stumble back onto the concrete floor.

“Like you said, if you can’t figure out the logical reason why I would do it then do you think anyone else would be able to come up with one? There is no use in just insisting that I did it, Y/N. In the end no one will believe you”, he surmised almost emotionlessly.

You collected yourself and scrambled up but Haejoong casually walks through the doorway leading to the rooftop. He spins to see you dashing towards him again and promptly shuts and locks the door from the other side, leaving you in the freezing exterior.

“IM HAEJOONG!”, you screamed. “Open the door now!”

“This is your time to make a choice Y/N. Will you take my side?”, Haejoong asks cryptically.

“Are you freaking crazy?! Let me out now!”, you whimpered as you banged against the cold hard door.

“I’m asking you one last time, will you take my side?”, there was even a coldness to his words now even though you could barely hear him through the thick barricade.

“Haejoong-ah, stop it now please. You are going down the wrong side, you still have a chance to turn around now”, you tried a different tactic, pleading to him now.

“You are wrong. If you are not on my side, all of you are wrong”, he bellows suddenly and crashes one of his fists into the door, shaking it so hard causing you to jump back. Immediately after was an eerie silence, with lingering echoes of the door being rattled.

Some people are like photographs, they exhibit an image, which they spend time developing, but their true self is captured on film as negatives, which is the exact opposite of what they portray.

138 notes · View notes

maandags · 5 years ago

Text

Eidolon (Angel!Keith x Demon!reader) {part iv}

i have no excuse for the wait except that im an idiot who took this school year too lightly yeet

-- -- --

Summary: Keith is an angel, and he’s completed mission after mission for the Upper Hand, the organisation controlling all of the Above. He’s only failed a mission once: when he was assigned to kill you, a surprisingly charismatic demon. He roamed Earth–Middle Ground–for years before he was caught by the Upper Hand again, and things quickly go south.

Genre: angst. because whats new

Word count: 8.7K

Notes: CW: graphic violence/blood, emotional manipulation - masterlist - {previous} -- {next }

-- -- --

if heaven's grief brings hell's rain

then i’d trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday

~ Just One Yesterday, Fall Out Boy

-- -- --

You wake up from a deep, dreamless sleep, disoriented and shivering despite the multiple layers you have on and thick comforter stacked upon you. It takes a moment before the events of the previous night rush back into your mind and cloud your thoughts, and you throw an arm over your face, inhaling deeply.

A huge weight has fallen off your shoulders. Last night, you didn't realise as much, your tired 3 A.M. mind already struggling to focus with the fact that Keith--who had been deathly sick only hours before--was up and about and sitting at your kitchen table and eating chinese takeout. But now that you had the quiet of the early morning to yourself you could feel the knots in your shoulders loosen and the lead seep out of your limbs.

You slowly shift your legs out of bed, still slightly dazed. Sunlight peeks out through the cracks in the shutters covering your window, and you cast a look at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand. It's barely 7 A.M. And it's also a Saturday. While that doesn't matter much in terms of noise–a city is a city, after all, and this one certainly is never quiet–your neighbours' kids aren't allowed out of bed before nine on Saturdays, which gives you at least two small hours of peace and quiet.

You stagger to the bathroom and let the hot shower water beat down your stiff muscles, trying to draw out the permanent chill that seems to have settled deep into your bones. It works a little bit, but when you get out of the steamy little cell and wrap a towel around your torso you can feel it trickle back into the pit of your stomach, like an icy worm that's decided to make your body its home. It's more of a discomfort than a true pain, though, so you decide to ignore it.

Your hair is still damp when you pull an extra thick sweater over your head, stick your feet in warm socks and tiptoe your way over to the living room.

Keith is still asleep. You don't blame him–he's still recovering, even though he already looks so much better than the previous night. The colour is back in his cheeks. The dark circles and the hollowness under his eyes have started to fade away. He's still thin, and he doesn't smell too good, but you decide against waking him just yet.

In the kitchen, you put on the kettle and pull open the fridge in search of something to eat. The unfinished boxes of chinese sit in front, half-open from when you hastily stowed them away. You pull one out, sniff it, then shrug as you grab for a spoon.

The kitchen windowsill is probably not the spot a lot of people would pick to lounge on, an early Saturday morning. But you've always liked to watch the sun rise over the tall buildings, and the soft orange glow you're treated with today is worth waking up so early for. You rest your face on the knee you've pulled up beside you as you shovel another spoonful of rice into your mouth.

The orange slowly fades out into yellow, then into blue. It's soothing to watch, and you find yourself slow your breathing and close your eyes as the city wakes up beneath you. Noises of starting cars and motorbikes drift up to your window, and chattering fills the street. People exit their homes, throwing delightful glances up at the sunny sky; unexpected after the heavy rain of the previous night.

You finish your takeout, do some chores around the house. Change your bedsheets. Prepare a change of clothes for when Keith finally wakes up. Open the windows to let in some fresh air. Prepare a cup of tea and claim back your spot on the windowsill. It's a peaceful morning, and the air doesn't feel quite as heavy as usual.

And then there's a rustling in the room beside you, and a crash as–you assume–Keith tumbles off your sofa and hits the ground. A faint groan floats past the kitchen doorway and you try to hide your grin. A couple of seconds later a very dishevelled-looking Keith stumbles into the kitchen.

"Morning," you tell him, rolling your shoulders once so they won't go stiff against the windowsill. He nods at you, dark eyes bleary. "Feel better?"

He sniffs. "I don't feel like I just got struck by lightning and dragged behind a racecar over an especially rocky road. So I guess that's improvement."

You blow on the hot tea in your hands. "I'm glad. Would have hated to have gone through all that trouble for nothing. You're quite the guest, you know."

Keith winces at the words, despite your light tone. For some reason, his frown and pained expression tug at your stomach. "But I don't mind it," you add hurriedly. "I mean–it was my own choice to take you in. I very well could not have done that. But–but I did." Shut up, shut up, shut up, you shouted internally.

The corners of Keith's mouth lift ever so slightly. "Lucky for me."

"Lucky for you," you agree with a grin.

It's silent for a while, and in the sunlight, you can clearly see how thin Keith really is. His shirt hangs from his frame in a shapeless lump of cloth, his trousers sagging and almost slipping from his bony hips. While he does look better–the life has returned to his eyes–he still doesn't look good, and the sight of him makes your guts twist. You point to the fridge. "There's leftovers from yesterday. Grab whatever you want–but be careful not to eat too much. I don't want you puking all over my kitchen."

But Keith has already found the other chinese box, and you show him which drawers contain cutlery and in which cupboard are stashed the glasses. He scarfs down the rice in ten minutes flat, and you shake your head in silent judgement. "I'm going to find a way to make you pay back everything you'll cost me, food-wise. You're in debt, starting today."

He gives you a shy grin, but his attention is quickly taken up once more by the food in front of him. You quietly sip your tea, staring out of the window, occasionally glancing at the angel sitting at your kitchen table.

That's when it truly hits you how much of an idiot you're being.

Last night, it had been late. Five days of nothing on your mind but the thought of trying to keep him alive, and finally finding a way to do so, had left you shaky and dazed. Seeing him up and about after getting used to the sound of his ragged, unsteady breathing floating through your apartment had been a shock.

But now the full weight of what you'd done–and what you hadn't done–crashes into you, and you realise you have absolutely no idea how to feel. The air charges with tension, and the angel leans back in his seat. He looks about as uncomfortable as you feel. Your mind whirls with thoughts, all seeming to want something different–the part of you that's curious where this whole situation would lead and is whispering to you to let him stay; the part of you that's still a loyal soldier to the Below and is screaming at you to turn him in; the part of you that wants nothing to do with any of this and is growling to throw him back out on the street. You shake your head, downing the last of your tea and hopping off the counter.

"Take a shower when you're done with that," you mutter. "I have to get back to work soon. My co-workers are gonna ask questions and I need to be prepared."

Keith nods. Your phone is already in your hands and you fire off a quick text to the shelter's manager to inform him you'd be in this afternoon. You don't know Anthony that well–he mostly keeps to the side and handles potential adopters. You prefer to stay with the animals. Almost immediately you receive a reply: he says he's delighted that you've decided to return so soon after taking your unexpected leave. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the barely-veiled passive-aggressiveness.

"Oh, yeah." You turn and point at Keith with your phone. "You can stay for as long as you need to, like, get your bearings and feel somewhat okay again, but then I'm kicking you out. I don't know if you have any idea of how much of a risk I'm taking here, but–"

"I get it," he cuts you off, and you can tell he means it. He needs to work on concealing his emotions, you think off-handedly. He's an open book. It's distracting. "Thank you. Seriously."

The tension builds until it's almost tangible. You shake your head, trying to shake the dizziness away. "It's–yeah. My pleasure, or whatever. I'm locking the door behind me." He gives a brief incline of his head to show he understands. "All right then. Later, I guess. Make–make sure you've showered. You kind of smell," you say apologetically. "No offence."

"None taken," he laughs. "You're right, anyway."

You make a gesture that's in between a nod and a headshake, then make a blind grab for your coat and your scarf before pulling the door closed behind you and locking it.

The shelter's lights are on, and its illuminated windows stand out starkly in the dim grimness of the gloomy street. It doesn't rain, for once, but grey clouds hang overhead and block the sun, the little light that makes it past them flimsy and thin. You pull the door closed behind you. The little bell above the doorway rings once, softly, and barking immediately pipes up from the next room over. You smile.

"Hey, loves," you mutter to each animal as you pass their cages, stopping here and there and sticking your fingers through the bars to give a furry face a pat, or to scratch a scaly butt, or to stroke a feathered head. "I missed you guys."

"They missed you too, I think," comes a quiet voice from behind you. You crouch and open a cage, plucking out a small cat and scritching it behind the ears. "They've been rather unruly in the days you weren't here. Restless, you know."

"Hi, Tony."

"Y/N." He inclines his head. "Did you have a nice leave?" It's a question purely out of politeness, you know, because he's your employer and he's supposed to be polite. As far as employers go, Tony really isn't the worst of them. But you can't shake the feeling that he's fishing for something.

"I did. I've been busy," you say cautiously, not taking your eyes off of the kitten you're cradling. "Sorry for it being so unexpected."

"Oh, not at all," Tony replies smoothly, sailing over to where you sit and leaning on the wall behind you, "We've managed. It was your week off, anyway, and just because you've insisted on working in your free time before doesn't mean that you always will." But it doesn't take amazing detective skills to hear the suspicious edge to his voice.

"That's right," you say, maybe a little too sharply. You can almost smell Tony's raised eyebrow behind you. "Sorry. I've just–I've been a little on edge, lately. I'll–" You scramble up, depositing the kitten back in its cage and dusting fur off your t-shirt. "I'll be in the back." You have the weird urge to salute, but you manage to suppress it. He's already suspicious, you remind yourself. Don't make it worse by acting weird.

It is a shame you can't spend more time with the animals, but you're not the only one who decided to come in today–it's actually quite crowded for a Saturday–so you get storage room duty and instead spend your afternoon putting away boxes of food and medicine and cleaning products. Emmie, one of your co-workers, sticks her head around the corner of your door at the end of the day.

"Hey. We're gonna go get milkshakes, wanna come?"

Your back screams when you push off the chair, eager for an excuse to cut your day short. "You're a godsend." The expression is actually used exclusively as an insult in the Below, but you find you like the Middle Ground version better. "Let me just grab my shoes, I'll be right there."

Hopping on one foot as you finish tying your laces, you join Emmie, Nirina, Adam and Zach as they stride out the door, Emmie and Zach's arms linked. In the back of your mind you recognise that's strange: Emmie and Zach can't stand each other. A smile curls the corners of your lips. You did miss quite a lot this past week, didn't you?

"We're going to this new place a few blocks down," Emmie shouts over her shoulder. You try to chat with Nirina for a bit, but she's more silent than usual, barely saying a word, and eventually she retreats to walk next to Adam behind you. When you don't focus on it, a black, vaguely animal-shaped shadow seems to sit on her shoulder, but when you look directly at it nothing's there.

Something isn't right here.

The feeling creeps into your very bones, making the hairs on your neck stand on edge and your shoulder blades tingle. The sense that you're being watched, and more–as you realise that with Nirina and Adam behind you and Emmie and Zach in front of you, it almost feels like you're being escorted. Guarded.

"Hey, Em," you call. Your hand creeps towards your pocket, but with a start you remember you left your knife at home. Stupid, stupid, stupid. "What's the place we're going called?"

Emmie turns around and flashes you a fanged grin. Your blood turns to ice. "So Above, So Below." And then she pounces--and pushes you straight through the pavement. You don't even have time to scream.

You lose all sense of direction. Up is down and left is right as you fall, fall, fall through a black hole, Emmie's nails still digging into your shoulders, though you're sure if you actually opened your eyes you'd see they're claws. You try to tug yourself loose, but her grip immediately tightens. You hiss when you feel her talons draw blood.

"No getting away, Y/N dear," she giggles into your ear.

Well, at least you know what she–and the others too, by the sound of it–is. Only Bountyhunters can get to the Below or the Above without using one of the doors or passages, instead creating their own temporary ones. You've travelled by Bounty Tunnel before. It's not a memory you cherish. The only thing you can do is close your eyes and hope it'll be over soon.

When you finally make contact, all the air is knocked out of you and for a moment you see nothing but black spots dancing in front of your eyes. Then you suck in a scorching breath and blink, and the familiar stark white ceiling of the Offices comes into view. You groan, and when you try to sit up, your hands catch in ashy grey feathers: your wings have popped. You flush, already feeling Haggar's disapproving scowl digging into your back. How unprofessional, she'd mumble.

Haggar has always hated your guts–even back when you were still loyal to the Below.

Emmie–except she looks nothing like Emmie anymore–tosses her long dark ponytail over her shoulder and sighs. "That was almost too easy. We were told you'd be a challenge."

"I haven't been feeling well," you reply, voice icy as you stand up and shake out your wings. You don't miss the way Emmie's expression sours and suppress a smirk. Bounties don't have wings, and they'll never stop being salty about it. "Also, four against one? That seems a little unfair, even for Management." You pause. "I'm assuming you got hired by Management."

"Of course we got hired by Management, demon," Zach snarls. He runs his fingers through his hair and glares at you, his fangs growing by the second and soon touching his chin. And then his face begins to change, his jaw softening (though not by much), his eyes growing more cat-like, his lips plumping. You frown, because you know this face. You know her.

Zethrid grins, fangs shining in the white LED light. "Long time no see, Y/N." You give a sarcastic wave.

"Yes, Y/N," comes an icy voice from behind you. Your shoulders tense, and your feathers puff involuntarily. "Long time no see indeed."

Haggar glides out of her office doors, and you feel all the stony calm and resistance leave you in one fell swoop. Her yellow eyes bore into yours, and it takes every ounce of willpower inside you not to look away. She nods her head, once. "My office, Y/N. Now."

"You're so dead," mutters Zethrid as you pass her.

"When I get out of here, you're the first person whose throat I'll slit," you hiss in return.

Haggar slumps in her seat and plucks her looking glass from its stand, making it levitate over her hand and glaring like she has a personal vendetta against it. "If it were up to me, I would already have you burning and hanging from the Grand Hall ceiling," she says, vanishing the mirror in a cloud of smoke. You try to ignore the pang of fear stabbing into your chest. You're gonna be fine, you tell yourself. You're going to be okay. But you find it hard to believe the words.

"But–" the mirror reappears in her other hand– "a certain Prince insisted on keeping you alive." She whirls the looking glass around and it floats in front of your face. Prince Lotor of the Below looks at you with a scrutinising gaze, as if gauging how much you'd be worth on the night market.

"Y/N," he says in a clear voice. You nod, then quickly incline your head in a slight bow. Watch your tongue, Y/N. Watch. Your. Tongue. "No need for that." Lotor snaps his fingers, and you look up again, eyes fixed on the rim of the looking glass, determined not to meet Lotor's. You're afraid of what you might see.

It's silent for a moment, and you keep your mouth shut for as long as you can, but you eventually break. "Forgive me, Lord, but–"

"Shut up." It takes all of your willpower not to cock your head and narrow your eyes in indignation. Lotor leans forward, elbows perched on his desk and fingertips pressed together. His cold gaze is calculating and cruel, and your entire body reels with disgust and hatred. "I didn't keep you alive because I care about what happens to you. Because I don't," he clarifies with a raised eyebrow, and this time you can't keep the grimly sarcastic smile at bay. "I kept you alive because I need you to do a job."

"With all due respect, sir, I don't think I'm the right person for any job." You try to keep your voice light and your fists unclenched, but it's a harder task than you want to admit.

"Told him so," Haggar mutters from behind the mirror. You can tell she thoroughly disagrees with being used as a TV-stand. "There are so much more competent candidates for this assignment who actually want to prove themselves and their loyalty to us." You have the feeling she's talking directly to Lotor now. "But no, you just had to get the one rogue who'll do everything in their power to get out from this–"

"Enough," Lotor says coolly, and Haggar clamps her jaw shut, though her eyes flash with murder. You don't know who she wants to kill more at the moment: you or Lotor. "Y/N will do the job, and they'll do it without complaining."

"You sound awfully sure." You've since given up on trying to be respectful. Lotor might be the Prince of the Below, but you had wriggled yourself out of more difficult situations than these before. You're already carefully plotting an escape.

Because the mistake most people make when they see you is that they underestimate you. They think they have you pinned down, and then they loosen their hold and up till now, that has always worked out in your favour–you know how to manipulate people and you know how to get out of the Below. You know every single of the dozens and dozens of passageways leading out onto Middle Ground, and from there on you know how to hide. You've done it before, and managed to keep off their radar for quite a while.

In fact, the only reason they caught you now was because you had been too preoccupied with a certain angel to keep your thoughts straight. A mistake, and one you won't be making again.

"I am sure," Lotor's clear voice cuts through your thoughts and pulls you back to the present. "There's a contract on the desk. Sign it, and we'll give you the details."

You can't stop the startled laugh that bursts past your lips. "A Blank Contract? You expect me to sign a Blank Contract?"

Lotor merely cocks his head and smiles that lazy smile of his.

And then the little looking glass shatters and you yelp, taking a step backwards in surprise, feeling your muscles tense. "I do," his voice says from behind you, and you whirl around just in time to see Lotor sail into Haggar's office.

Haggar gives a sharp sigh and brushes shattered glass off her uniform. "Do you always have to do that? Those mirrors are expensive, you know. I'm gonna have you pay for them if you insist on making a dramatic entrance every time."

Lotor ignores her, his gaze fixed on you. He waves his hand, and a piece of paper appears between his fingers. It's mostly blank, save for one thickly outlined black square with an inscription you can't read from where you stand, but you know what they say: Candidate's signature. "I'm not signing." But your voice has a tremor to it, and you suddenly feel a lot smaller as Lotor strides towards you. It was a lot easier to disrespect the Prince of the Below through a looking glass.

His eyes flash with irritation. "You will." Somehow, those two words hold more threat to them than all the insults the Bounties threw at you earlier.

But you set your jaw and clench your fists. "I'd rather die. I'm. Not. Signing." You had vowed to not ever help the Below in any way, shape or form again. It wasn't worth it.

"Told you so," Haggar sing-songs from behind her desk, a maniacal glint to her eye. "Just take one of the actually competent ones. Let me string them up."

Lotor gives a sharp sigh. "Touch them and I'll be stringing you up." Haggar pouts and crosses her arms. He turns to you, and the coolness in his eyes sends shivers up your spine. The realisation hits you like a freight train. He's done something. He knows something. He would never be this sure of himself if he didn't have an absolutely airtight plan.

Then Lotor waves his hand again, and another mirror you hadn't noticed before–a looking glass spanning from the floor to the ceiling, partially hidden by a black curtain–lights up, and the image you see has all the colour drain from your face and your heart skip a beat.

Allura is tied to a chair and breathing hard, her nurse's scrubs hanging crookedly, torn and dirty. A nasty cut spans from her cheekbone to her eyebrow, and blood runs down the side of her face. Tears mix with the grime and blood smearing her cheeks. Behind her stand Emmie and Zethrid the Bountyhunters, crazed smiles painted upon both their faces.

As soon as she sees you, Allura lets out a strangled cry that is muffled by the gag strung over her mouth. Her eyes widen, and you rush forward, stopping just short of the mirror's surface, afraid to break it. Your shaking fingertips hover just shy of the surface before you pull them back to your chest. Tears threaten to spill past your eyes, so you push them down and try to take a breath.

"Is this real?" You know how hallucinations work. You know how powerful illusions can be, and you know exactly how useful of a tool they can be in manipluation. It's a tool you've used yourself.

"Maybe. Maybe not," says Lotor's soft voice. His breath washes over the side of your face, and you can feel sick rise in your throat. All compusure is lost. It's all or nothing now. Thoughts muddle and get mixed up in your mind until all you can focus on is Allura, terrified and hurt, sitting in front of you yet separated by a thin sheet of glass and who knows how many miles.

A crazy thought of Maybe I can free her pops up, but you beat it down immediately again. You don't know where she is. You don't know if this is even real. Lotor would immediately order her killed if you attempted anything remotely similar to a breakout. Then kill Lotor, a ragged voice in your mind screams.

"Come, come, no rash decisions now," Lotor says as if he just read your thoughts. His hands ghost over your shoulders, sliding down until they reach your elbows. He gently forces them to your sides, and you don't even have the strength in you to resist. A fresh stream of tears runs down Allura's cheeks, and she weakly thrashes against her bonds, and in the end, that's what yanks you out of your stupor.

Your chin snaps up. "So you'll let her go if I sign the contract?"

Lotor rolls his eyes. "Look whose wits have returned to them." He lets go of your elbows and takes a step toward the mirror, hands clasped behind his back and his hungry gaze raking across Allura's form. She looks up at him with a mix of hatred and fear in her eyes. She's given up struggling against the ropes, but her jaw is set, and her eyes are steely; terrified, but determined. Her gaze flicks back to you and she gives the tiniest shake of her head.

Lotor reels back and laughs, the sound booming within the office walls. He shakes his head, still chuckling, his long silvery hair swishing behind him as he stalks back to the desk and swoops up the contract. "Feisty. I like that. Doesn't have the slightest clue of what's going on but still tells you to not do the thing you obviously don't want to do." He flashes you a fanged grin that makes your blood run cold. "I just might pay her a visit later myself."

"That's Middle Ground, my Prince," you manage through gritted teeth. "I'll find and kill you before you even have a chance to knock on her door."

"That's some confidence you've got right there, Y/N. Keep it for the job."

"I haven't signed your contract yet."

Lotor cocks his head and his grin widens. "Yet being the keyword here."

You turn back to the mirror, scanning Allura for any sign that she might not be real, looking for something that might hint that her image is off. Something. Anything. But your manic brain is running in circles, looking for loopholes that might not even be there, and you know you're not making sense, because the chance that she's just an illusion is there, but on the off-chance that she isn't, that she actually is in danger–

You would never forgive yourself if she were to get hurt and you could have put a stop to it.

"It's possible," you breathe, your hands curling to fists. "It's possible that none of this is real."

Lotor nods as if your words are perfectly reasonable. "True." There's a beat of silence, and his feverish eyes bore into yours. "But are you willing to take that risk?"

Anyone else–any proper demon–would have laughed in his face and torn the contract to shreds, watching gleefully as Allura got tortured in front of their eyes. But you had left behind your demon ways a good while ago, and you had always been a rotten pupil anyway. So you bite your tongue and snatch the contract and pen from Lotor's waiting fingers, scribbling your signature down hard enough that you pierce the paper.

"See, I knew you'd come around in the end!" He claps his hands in delight and throws a triumphant glance Haggar's way. "I told you so."

"Yeah, yeah," she mumbles, waving a hand as if to dismiss his words. She gives you a slightly disapppointed stare. "I was rooting for you, kiddo. Show some spine next time."

You fight the tears threatening to spill and slap the now-signed contract back onto the desk. "All right. Details, Lotor. What's the assignment?"

His eyes flash. Business; there's something he knows. "We received word that one of the Above's most prized angels has just gone rogue." He starts pacing, and your eyes keep finding Allura's behind him–but she looks at you with pity and something that's almost disappointment, and you have to look away before you break down completely. "It came out of nowhere, too: stellar record, followed orders without a second thought. A great soldier." You don't miss the punch behind the words.

"And you want me to do, what, kill him?" That wouldn't be too hard. At least, you think. Your mind is still a bit muddy, but something ugly and twisted inside you is still desperate for Management's approval. Still eager to prove yourself. I can be a good soldier too.

"Oh no, no," Lotor says with a dismissive wave of his hand, "I just want you to find him and bring him in. It shouldn't be that hard to do–after all, who better to track a rogue than another rogue themselves?"

There's still something else. Something he isn't telling you. Sure, you're good at what you do–at what you used to do–but was it worth going through all the trouble just to get you to sign the stupid contract? As much as you loathed to do it, you silently had to agree with Haggar on this one. There were so many young demons scrambling for their chance to prove themselves and their worth–why not let them take this assignment?

"That–that's it?"

Lotor cocks a brow. "I mean, unless you wanted more work, I guess that's it.'

You give a cautious nod. "Okay. So what do we know about this guy?"

"Not much. My sources weren't able to provide very recent information–"

"Get better sources."

"–But what they do know is that this particular angel has been off the map for years. Quite like you," he adds as he raises his other eyebrow. You roll your eyes. "He's impossible to find, quite hard to track, and a very skilled fighter. Rumour has it he's scouring your city's streets at the moment."

You resist a frown. If this guy has been prowling your streets and you haven't noticed, something is definitely amiss. Might just be that you've been preoccupied with Keith and everything that happened around him, but if this has been going on for as long as Lotor is implying it has... this just might prove an actual challenge.

The old feeling of excitement and anticipation starts to run through your very bones again, and you hate the way it makes you feel–energised. As if you can handle anything thrown your way. Ready. It's a feeling you haven't known in years, and one you haven't missed, though now that it courses through your veins again there's no point in denying that you're enjoying it. The thrill of the chase.

But then Lotor speaks the name of the angel you're supposed to bring in, and everything falls into place, only to shatter into a million pieces a split second after.

You see his lips move. Hear the words spoken, though they take a moment to get processed, and when they do they leave behind an emptiness that has you stare at him, too dumbfounded and untrusting of yourself to speak.

It can't be. This must be the universe's idea of a cruel joke. The very guy you'd risked everything for–the very angel that had caused your distractedness and is the reason you were here in the first place–is the same rogue angel about whom you had just signed a contract.

The crushing weight of it settles on your shoulders. All five days of you struggling to keep him breathing, for nothing. The weird excursion to Coran's shop, for nothing. The goddamn chinese takeout you'd bought for him, for fucking nothing.

But somehow you manage to keep your face straight, and Lotor hadn't been watching you as he said it, instead gazing intently at something over your head, so you can only hope he hasn't noticed the lurch in your expression at the mention of Keith Kogane.

"All right." You're almost shocked at how steady your voice is. "Okay. I've agreed. You got what you want. Now, free Allura." Even though your voice is pretty steady, you curl your hands into fists to hide their shaking.

Lotor doesn't move for a moment, and you seriously begin to think he's having a seizure until he snaps his fingers and Emmie lunges forward.

In her hand is a knife, and she plunges it into Allura's chest without a second of hesitation.

You rush toward the mirror, a strangled "No!" ripped from your throat. Your fingers claw at the smooth glass surface and you watch her slump, blood gushing from the wound and staining her scrubs a dark crimson. Your knees buckle, and your eyes stay glued to her form as she convulses, coughs up blood twice, then goes limp. Her head falls back...

And snaps back up, and you lurch back with a startled cry. Allura's eyes have gone red and are shining with mania. Her skin turns the colour of wet ash, and her hair falls out of its updo and cascades down her shoulders, tendrils black and writhing as if they have a mind of their own...

Demon.

Shapeshifter.

Your breathing comes in short and shallow rasps as the full realisation of things settles in. Allura was never in danger. You were right all along. If only you had put your foot down. If only you hadn't let your feelings cloud your mind.

It doesn't matter now. You signed a contract–and there's no going back from that.

Lotor fingers through the file that bears your signature in black ink. Slowly, the words explaining just what you signed start to appear on the sheets, snaking their way along the curves of the paper as if written in by an invisible hand. A steel fist clenches around your heart, and you struggle to stand up, your muscles turned to jelly. The surface of the mirror has gone black again.

A shaking hand comes up to cover your mouth, and your teeth clench down on your lower lip so hard that they draw blood. Lotor flicks his wrist, and the contract disappears. The fingers of your free hand twitch as if they wanted to grab at the file. You level your gaze with Lotor's, and evidently your years of training finally paid off in the end, because in his eyes you can see how passive your expression is. You'd be a good poker player, your fleeting mind thinks randomly. The only thing giving away your current emotions is the hand mindlessly tugging at your bottom lip, and the fact that your breathing is still rather fast.

"Now," Lotor drawls in his honey-coated voice–sugary sweet, sticky, suffocating–and snakes an arm around your shoulders, "that wasn't so hard, was it?"

And you know you should keep your mouth shut, because he is the Prince of the Below, and Haggar has already expressed her desire to string you up and set you on fire in the Grand Hall for every new recruit to see–but on the other hand, you just signed a contract, and that makes you technically untouchable until Lotor has reason to believe you won't be able to complete the task set out for you.

The very foundation of a plan starts coming together in your mind. You jut up your chin and break free from his grasp. "So do I get assignment-issue gear? A blade? A gun, maybe? If this angel is as good as you make him out to be, perhaps I should need some more useful weapons than your average kitchen knife."

Lotor scrutinises you for a moment, then waves his hand. A set of gleaming double blades appear on Haggar's desk, along with their sheaths and long black gloves. Haggar huffs with an indignant mutter of Sure, use my desk as your summoning surface. Don't mind at all. You ignore her and lift an eyebrow. "That's all you're going to give me?"

"If you're as good as you say, this is all you will need," Lotor replies in that smooth tone of his. His eyes glint; he's gotten what he wanted. He's already won.

But that's fine. Lotor may have won this battle, and you need to make him feel like he has, but in the end you'll do everything in your power to win the war. And Lotor just handed you the weapons that just might be able to get you there.

"Fine," you mutter, snatching up the knives, pointedly refusing to strap them to your back like is procedure, instead securing the harnesses to your thighs as a small act of defiance. Irritation flashes in his eyes. "I'll report to you how often?"

"No reports," Lotor says with a wave of his hand. "We don't want to make any potential spies of the Above suspicious. Just make sure you find him, and when you do..." He tosses you a little disk about the size of a large coin, and you startle at how heavy it is. It's pleasantly warm to the touch, and you have a creeping suspicion as to what it is that is only confirmed with Lotor's next words. "Portal pass. Use it wisely."

You turn the pass over and over in your hands, the familiar weight of the knives at your thighs comforting and seeming to pull you down to the ground at the same time. "Is that–will that be all?" Risky words, risky questions–you're going out on a limb and assume Lotor won't have you hanged for running your mouth: he did just pretend to torture your best friend to coerce a signature out of you, so you suppose he has to give you some slack.

He sails to a halt in front of you, face so close his nose almost touches yours, and you have to stop yourself from recoiling. His expression is cold, his gaze calculating–and the smile that creeps up his lips sends shivers up our spine. "Yes. I think that will be all." He raises a brow and throws a glance Haggar's way, which you find comical as he didn't seem to give a solid fuck about her opinions when he used her office as his personal torture chamber.

Haggar shrugs. "I still think we should string them up and burn them to a crisp."

"Yes, Haggar, I know. Why did I even bother." He gives you a lazy flick of his hand, but you've already turned and your hand is resting on the doorknob, when something occurs to you and you cast a look at him over your shoulder.

"My Prince?" The title feels like hot oil searing down your throat, but you expect the words you're about to say require this small bit of courtesy. He raises a brow and nods. "I'm going to kill the Bounties that brought me here." Your voice sounds oddly bored.

Lotor chuckles. "They're no demons. They don't have a place in the Below." It's like his gaze issues a challenge, and a fresh wave of loathing for this Prince washes over your being. "Go right ahead."

You flash a cold smile and slam the door shut.

– – –

You wipe your blades with some wet wipes and discard them in the trashcan beside you when they get too filthy with blood (the store clerk barely looked up when you came in and purchased a single packet of wet wipes and a duffel bag–apparently the average cashier sees weirder stuff than a maniac with bloodied hunting knives the size of their forearms slamming a pack of wet wipes on the counter on a daily basis). Emmie, Adam, Zethrid and Nirina's bodies have long since turned to dust, and you have to work to keep your breathing steady and to stop your eyes from glowing red as the phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder rings.

Allura picks up on the fourth ring. "'Sup?"

It was just a check. Just to make sure. But if Allura truly did just get tortured, you have a feeling she wouldn't pick up a phone call with a simple 'Sup?

"Hey. How was your day?" Your speech comes out slightly slurred, and Allura laughs on the other side of the line.

"Fine. Work, you know. Routine." You can almost hear the grin on her face as she says, "And you? Weren't you supposed to be at work too, today?"

Work. Work feels like such a long time ago--when it was in reality only a couple of hours back. You nod slowly, though it's more to convince yourself than anything else. "Yeah. I was. Some co-workers and I went to get smoothies afterwards. To welcome me back," you joke.

"Did they pay?"

"Yeah."

"Good for you. Free milkshake. I'm jealous."

You laugh, but it feels hollow in your chest. "Hey--I need to run now, but I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Sweet of you to check in, Y/N."

You eye the gleaming blade, running a finger along its razor-sharp edge. "No problem."

After you hang up, you sit back against the wall digging into your back, forcing down the pumping feeling in your limbs.

It's something you've missed, and you can't deny it. The absolute exhilaration you feel when your blades make contact, the thrumming of adrenaline in your veins as you dodge to avoid the blows that four individual enemies are throwing at you. The fear in Zethrid's eyes when she realises she is the only one left standing, and the life seeping from her eyes as you slit her throat.

It doesn't make you feel good, exactly–especially now that the thrill of the moment has worn off and you just feel tired and there's an ache that has burrowed itself deep into your bones–but there's no replicating the rush of power that courses through your very being when you're the one in control.

When the blades of death are yours to wield.

The knives are now securely stored in your new black duffel, and you try and figure out how you're going to pull off bringing two huge knives home without rousing suspicion from Keith. You internally debate whether you shouldn't just find a safe space to stash the duffel until you need it. There are quite a few nooks and crannies you know no one in their right mind would look, but then again, this was a big city. There were plenty of creepier people prawling these streets than the occasional demon.

And then you pass a gym, and an idea sparks in your head.

After casually shoplifting a bunch of sportswear from the nearest Nike store, you return to the gym with the knives in your bag hidden by the copious amounts of t-shirts and trainers stacked on top of them. You get a locker and stuff the bag inside before making your way outside again, smiling at the desk guy as you leisurely stroll out of the gym. The guy narrows his eyes at you–your clothes are still slightly torn and dirty, and you're pretty sure you have a bruise forming on the right side of your cheek, but you don't pay him any mind. He works at a gym. He's seen stranger than you.

But the closer you get to your apartment, the heavier the portal pass starts to feel in your pocket, and the more insecure your steps become. The sun hangs low over the city skyline, but hasn't completely started to set yet, and soft golden light washes over the streets, making them look... wrong. Bleak. Colour in a place where colour shouldn't be. You had just killed in these streets, and nobody noticed.

The thought makes you feel kind of sorry for the Bounties. They would be missed by no one.

You're still lost in thought when you almost hit a door and you snap back to reality. Your feet had carried you all the way up to your apartment. You blinked hard, rubbed a hand over your face and fumbled for your keys.

"Hey. It's me. Did you burn the house down while I was gone?"

Keith looks up from where he sits on an armchair–your armchair, but you understand he wouldn't want to spend another minute on the couch he spent five days on, hallucinating out of his mind–and grins, and your heart does a leap. And then he frowns, and you freeze, and your immediate thought is Oh fuck, he's found me out, he knows everything, he's going to call the other angels and he's going to kill me–

But the words he speaks are soft with concern. "What happened to your face?" And it takes all of your willpower not to break down right then and there.

He puts down the book he was reading and walks over to you, eyebrows knotted with worry, and reaches out to touch your forehead. Only then does he seem to realise how close to you he's standing, and he quickly pulls his fingers back to his chest. They're red with blood. "Let's get that disinfected, yeah?"

Before you can answer, he's already started towards your kitchen. You blink, still stunned, before following him like you're in a daze. He looks over his shoulder and points to a kitchen chair. You plop down, and it's when the weight is taken off your legs that the exhaustion comes crashing into you at breakneck speed, and it takes all your strength not to plunk your head down on the kitchen table and just pass out.

"Where do you keep your first aid kit?"

You vaguely point to a cabinet below the sink, and moments later Keith plops the kit down beside you on the table and plucks out a wad of cotton and disinfecting spray. You don't even feel it sting when he gently dabs at the cut on your forehead and cheekbone. His eyes are firmly trained on the cotton, his dark brows furrowed–there's a little crease between them that your foggy self finds most endearing–and he's chewing absent-mindedly on his bottom lip.

With a shock, you realise this is the closest you've been to him. Ever. This is the first time you can properly study his face, and you can always blame your muddy mind later if he brings up how blatantly you were staring at him, so you let yourself drink in every feature of his face. You find yourself drawn to his eyes most; they're a stunning deep violet, the colour of the sky at twilight, when the sun has just set and the last rays of light streak the heavens with purple. Most of all, they're soft with concern and simultaneously fierce with a kind of fire you haven't seen on him before.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened?" you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Keith's eyes briefly flicker to yours, and he gives an awkward shrug before going back to gently rubbing at your wounds. "It's none of my business. You haven't asked me about what I was doing on Middle Ground in the first place, and I won't stick my nose into what doesn't concern me." But the words sound like he's reciting them; like a lesson he learned at school. You can see in his eyes that he is in fact curious, but also that he isn't going to press further. How very angelic of him.

You purse your lips, fingering the portal pass in your jacket pocket.

Your mind is a jumble of thoughts, like someone took all your emotions and threw them in a blender. Every moment you spend with Keith in your kitchen–how is it you always end up in the kitchen?–you grow more sure that you can't turn him in. But the contract pulls at your insides, and you know that if you keep ignoring its contents it will keep gnawing at you until you can't take it anymore and snap.

The contract is the contract. Binding and eternal.

"Keith."

His hand freezes, and you carefully guide it to the table, gently forcing him to put down the cotton. "Thank you, really. But I'm okay. I promise."

He nods. Slowly. "Okay."

And oh, how you want to wrap your arms around his neck and press your lips against his, but that would make things a thousand times more complicated than they already are–

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop. It's the exhaustion talking, you firmly tell yourself, before you yank your fingers back and stand. You're a bit wobbly, but you manage. Keith wisely doesn't attempt to help you, but you can feel his eyes boring into your back as you make your way to your bedroom.

You change. You brush your teeth. You splash some water in your face to clear your head. Everything happens in a haze, your mind too tired to think about anything at all.

But then your eye falls on a piece of paper resting on your pillow. You frown and pick it up, and your eyes widen when you recognise your own scraggly handwriting littering the little parchment card. A hand flies up to your mouth to muffle your startled scream, and you drop the card as if it just burned your fingertips, though your eyes stay glued to its surface.

The words I want Keith to be okay stare back up at you, and with every passing second your breathing gets quicker and more ragged. Your fingers tingle, and as you draw a tentative breath you sink down onto the mattress. Your fingers tingle, but they tingle with warmth, and the feeling is not unpleasant.

Where Keith's own skin brushed yours, the chill that had seeped into your very core and had burrowed there for days, leaving you in a constant state of stiff cold, dissipated. The feeling is so weirdly foreign after having only felt cold for days that you dumbly stare out into nothingness, trying to shake the heat out of your hand. It doesn't work. It feels good, and you want more of it.

For a moment, the contract leaves your mind, replaced by Keith's eyes, the way he'd looked up at you, all softness and worry; the gentleness of his fingers as they cleaned the shallow cuts on your face. You close your eyes and lean back, the little parchment card on the floor seeming to beg for your attention. You never knew paper could be this loud.

For just a moment, you allow yourself to think of Keith and not just see an angel–but something more.

#keith x reader #keith kogane x reader #keith voltron #keith voltron x reader #keith vld #keith vld x reader #vld keith #vld keith x reader #voltron keith #voltron keith x reader #voltron keith kogane #vld keith kogane #voltron keith kogane x reader #vld keith kogane x reader #keith kogane #keith fic #keith fanfic #keith voltron fic #keith voltron fanfic

55 notes · View notes

takerfoxx · 5 years ago

Text

IM Swiftly Descending Darkness, Chapter 7

Down.

Deep down, down, down.

Down into the dark. Down into the cold. Down into the place devoid of light, devoid of kindness, devoid of hope.

Down into the place of pain. Down into the place of despair. Down into the place from which there is no escape, the place set aside for those of the blackest of souls, of the darkest of hearts.

Down into the prison set in the furthest reaches of existence, down into the place intended to swallow the progenitors of evil and suffering, down into the place of Judgment.

Down into the dark.

Down into the cold.

Down into chains.

And then…a face. A pale, beautiful face, framed by long hair so dark that it melts into the darkness that frames it. It is not the face of a man or a women, but of an ethereal creature whose beauty defies gender, defies mortality, defies humanity.

But it is a cruel beauty, to be feared rather than desired. It is beautiful like a wildfire is beautiful, like a hurricane is beautiful, like a black hole is beautiful, and so much more destructive, so much more malicious.

Its eyes are closed, though not in sleep, but in waiting.

Its eyes are closed, but its mouth is moving, curling up into a poisonous smile.

Rumia’s eyes snapped open.

The view she was greeted with was at once familiar, yet alien. The wooden slats of a slightly slanted wooden roof were above her. She knew those slats, every single line and nick and knot. She saw them when she went to bed and they were the first thing that greeted her when she woke up.

And yet she couldn’t stop staring at them. No, that wasn’t right. They shouldn’t be there; she shouldn’t be there! She ought to be seeing…

Darkness.

Rumia’s right eye twitched.

Cold.

No, she was home! She was in the Aoki Yume’s Children’s Home, the only home she had ever known! This was normal!

Chains.

Then why did it look so unfamiliar? Why did she feel so out of place?

“Rumia?”

Rumia turned her head toward the voice. She was greeted by a nut-brown, heart-shaped face, one with large, dark eyes and shiny black hair that hung over one shoulder in a tightly knotted ponytail.

Once again she was struck by a wave of recognition and confusion. Who is this person? whispered one part of her mind.

What do you mean? answered another. It’s Melissa Garcia! You see her every day!

“Estas despierto!” Melissa said excitedly, which was something neither part of Rumia understood. “Oh, gracias a Jesús!” Then she cleared her throat and said slowly, “Are you all right?”

Rumia didn’t answer. She just stared.

“Rumia?” Melissa waved her hand in front of Rumia’s face. Her dark eyes frowned in concern. “Can you…Can you hear me?”

Rumia opened her mouth to respond. “Who are…” Then she stopped. No, wait, that wasn’t right. “Melissa,” she said. “What happened?”

Before Melissa could answer, someone groaned in discomfort and confusion.

As Melissa ran over to see to the person in question, Rumia struggled to put her thoughts in order. What the hell had happened? They had been…okay, there was the fight at the market, that much she remembered pretty well. And after that had been flying lessons. And then-

The spider’s long, gaunt face stretched as it opened its mouth wide. Inside was a black pit, filled with row after row of quivering teeth.

Rumia shivered. Right. The spiders. The kidnapping. The forest-

The slender creature turned its faceless visage toward her. It reached out with one stick-thin limb, as long as Miss Mokou was tall.

Rumia covered her face. No, please. Make it stop.

Eiko lay upon the table, her torso split wide open. The spiders were feasting upon her innards, ripping away chunks of meat and offal with their teeth. Her face was still visible, the pale flesh now splattered with her own blood, the eyes plucked right from the sockets and yet still managing to convey the terror and pain she had been feeling in her final moments.

No, no, no, no!

The spider had them, had ensnared their legs. It was dragging them back, pulling them to their deaths.

And then…and then…

What had happened then?

She had vague memories of something explicably twisted, something to do with…skeletons? Skeletons and sand? It had been horrible, that much she was certain of, but try as she might, she couldn’t recall more than a few fleeting images.

Rumia struggled to sit up. She was in the sick room, where kids who fell ill or were injured were kept to recover, as well as to prevent diseases from spreading. It was a small room surrounded by cabinets, with several sleeping mats spread on the ground. She was lying on one of the sleeping mats, with others around her. She saw Haruko and Hayate, still unmoving and unresponsive. Kana was there too, looking even more unwell than usual. Keine seemed to be sleeping unsoundly, if the way her closed eyes and jaw was tightening up and her face shone with sweat.

Kohta, however, had also woken up. He had been the one groaning, and was now sitting up as well, with Melissa kneeling next to him.

“Ugh,” he said as he rubbed his forehead. “What…where…”

“Sick room,” Melissa told him. “Um, are you all right?”

Kohta squinted at her. “Who…what…?”

Melissa swallowed. “It is me. Melissa Garcia. Do you not know me?”

“Melissa?” Kohta blinked his eyes several times and shook his head. “Oh, right. Melissa. Hi.”

“Hello. Are you…” Melissa reached over to touch his shoulder.

Kohta violently recoiled. “Don’t touch me!”

Melissa quickly withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t,” Kohta repeated. “Just don’t touch me. Don’t.”

“Um…” Melissa’s eyes flicked from Kohta to Rumia to find them both glaring at her. “Er, okay?” She nervously licked her lips. “Are you…okay?”

Neither Rumia nor Kohta said anything.

“Right.” Melissa stood up. “I will go get Miss Satoko then.”

She hurried from the room, leaving the two of them sitting together in silence.

…

Joshua sat on the edge of his bed, bowed head in his hands. His lips moved silently but fervently, in time with the prayer he had been repeating in his head and heart over and over ever since that night in the Youkai Forest.

Lord, grant me strength. Please. I don’t know what to do. I need your guidance now. Jesus, please.

It had been three days since the children had been taken by the spiders. Three days since he had plunged into the forest alone in hopes of finding them. Three days since he had seen the cruelty suffered by poor Eiko on her last day. Three days since he had been thoroughly reminded of the stark evil that prowled his new home’s darkest corners.

Three days since he had seen his friend Fujiwara no Mokou for what she really was.

Joshua had seen and even done his share of things that he would like to forget, and that night was filled with more than its fair share. But nothing would ever compare to those few minutes, when he had sat by himself in the middle of the scorched remains of the spider’s lair, Eiko’s butchered body sitting in a filthy sack next to him, hands covering his ears as he tried not to hear what Mokou was doing to those spiders.

Please! Mercy, I beseech yah!

But no matter how hard he pressed his palms to his ears, no matter how loudly he prayed, he could never shut out their screams, nor the cold, pitiless sound of Mokou’s voice.

Mercy? You have the gall to beg me for mercy? Did you show mercy to that girl? Tell me: when she screamed, did you laugh? When she cried, did it make you feel powerful? When she stopped moving, were you disappointed that your fun was over?

No! I’m sorry, we wun’t do it again, I-AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!

And then the smell of burning flesh, already hanging thick along with the stench of ash and rot, had suddenly grown.

I can go as slow or as fast as you like. I can break, I can pop, and I can burn. Slow cook or searing flame, whatever I choose. And if you don’t want me to start getting creative, you’re going to tell me everything I want to know. You do that, and I’ll simply turn you all into to ashes so you can resurrect good as new later. One quick flash-fire, and it’ll all be over. Or I can draw this out. Your choice.

Yes! Yes! Questions! Ask yah questions, I’ll tell yah everything!

Tears had dripped down Joshua’s face then, just as they were in the present. Crouching by himself in the forest or sitting safe and sound on his bed, it made no difference. The sounds of agony and the reek of death were just as fresh.

Good. Now, word has reached me that this whole endeavor wasn’t even your idea. Not at first, at least. You were put up to this, by a Human from the Human Village, weren’t you?

At this, Joshua had stopped shaking and praying. And though he knew that he probably ought not to, he had removed his hands from his ears and listened.

Yes! Yes! Summin from dere! Came tah us, ‘e did. Sayin’ ‘e would pay us tah go aftah dah orphans! Said ‘e would t-t-take out dey deffinses, dey charms an’ shit!

Take out their defenses? Someone had really gone out of their way to stir up evil youkai against the children and had promised to leave them helpless? And it had been another Human?

Who? Who was it? What did they look like?

I dunno! Never saw ‘em face!

Oh, that is not the answer you should have given me.

No! I swear, I dun’t-AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!

The sounds of the spider’s had screams mixed with a burning hiss.

I swear, I swear, please no more. Never saw ‘is face. Wore a big ol’ cloak, ‘e did. Short fella, kinda chunky. Stank o’ fear. Squeaky voice.

Joshua stood up and made for the door.

Hmmm, well, that’s not exactly a whole lot to go on. Gotta do better than that.

Dat’s all I know! Dat’s all!

He made his way through the hall and down the stairs.

You know, I think your burnt bits are distracting you. Making it hard to remember. You think if I take those hands off it’ll jog your memory?

No! I swear, dat’s all I ‘ave!

To the front door and out onto the porch.

Well, if you say so. I guess we’re done here.

Yes! Yes, please! End it!

As you wish. Hey, you know how there’s actually a couple kind of fire that you can’t recover from? That’ll burn your body so completely that those meager magics holding it together won’t be able to stitch you up?

Down the steps, onto the front path, and into the grassy lawn.

You ain’t no Dragon! YOU AIN’T NO DRAGON!

No, I’m not. Dragonfire is unfortunately in short supply around here. But I got the next best thing.

The…The Phoenix’s Daughter! Yer dah Phoenix’s Daughter! NO, PLEASE! PLE-AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!

The now-dead spider’s final screams still echoing in his ears, Joshua found Mokou out in the field. She was walking all along the perimeter fence and slapping paper charms to the posts.

Upon their return, one of the first things Mokou had done was go out and inspect all of the magical wards they had set up around the estate. It had been just as they feared. All the charms had been sabotaged, rendered powerless. Which meant that even if Kana hadn’t accidentally blown herself and the others past the fence, the spiders would have been able to get in anyway. The implications of that were horrifying to think about.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Joshua approached her.

“Um, Mokou?” he said.

“Josh. Good,” Mokou said, giving him only the quickest of glances. “Come and give me a hand here.”

Honestly, at this point Joshua really didn’t want to see what was undoubtedly more bad news, but he went over to her anyway. “Look, I know we haven’t really talked much since, you know, the forest, but-”

“Then talk while you’re helping me,” Mokou said, shoving a handful of charms into his hand. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“What our charms being sabotaged means. What that spider told us means.” Though Mokou didn’t raise her voice, the anger seeping through was palpable. “This wasn’t just some dumbass youkai looking to score a meal growing too bold. This was a set-up. A hit. Eiko was basically assassinated!”

“Assassinated?” Joshua tried to wrap his head around the concept. “But by whom? Who would do something like this?”

At this, Mokou said nothing. She just shot him a meaningful look.

After a beat Joshua said, “You don’t know that for sure.”

“He’s still the number one suspect,” Mokou said.

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean-”

“I’ve been gone digging up whatever info I could find,” Mokou said as she walked from post to post, sticking pieces of paper onto each one. “And I’ve learned a few things. Nothing conclusive, but enough to point fingers in Skinner’s direction. And you have to admit, it tracks.”

“And if it is him?”

“Well, then my job just got a whole lot simpler.”

Joshua felt the blood leaving his face. “Job?”

“Yeah. Protect the house. Protect the kids. If the reason we’re getting attacked by youkai is also the reason that all the Humans are turning against us, then that means there’s fewer people I gotta go after.”

“Go after,” Joshua repeated. “You mean, like you went after those spiders?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Mokou said without shame. Her hand squeezed into a fist, crumbling the burnt charms to dust. “Joshua, I know why you came out here to talk to me. I know you saw a side of me you didn’t like. I get that. But understand this: you cannot make me regret what I did to those spiders. It’s not going to happen.”

Just the small reminder of what had happened to those spiders send a shiver up Joshua’s spine. “Yes, but-”

“No,” Mokou said. “No ‘but.’ No arguments. I don’t subscribe to your religion, and I don’t care about your god. I’m sorry you had to be there for that sorry business, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat. After what they did to Eiko, they deserved no less. Hell, I’d bet anything that that wasn’t the first kid they did it too either. Or Human. So save your speeches about forgiveness and mercy. I don’t care. And if I have to do the same to Skinner and every single one of his followers to prevent another one of our kids from ending up like Eiko, then so be it. They already tell stories about me. What’s one more?”

“Mokou, no,” Joshua whispered.

Annoyance flashed through Mokou’s maroon eyes. “Joshua,” she said, warning in her voice.

“No,” he said hastily. “I mean, you can’t just go kill everyone connected to him. That’ll just prove his point and set the rest against us. Besides, even if he is to blame, odds are he’s hiding this from his followers. They’re all worked up about youkai, so do you really think he’d tell them that he’s been cutting deals with them?”

“Don’t care,” Mokou said. “They come at us again, then that’s on their heads.” Then she frowned. “Though I guess you have a point. Don’t want to go making any martyrs. That never turns out well.”

Joshua wondered how much personal experience she had with that. “Just please wait until we learn more,” he said. “As for the spiders, well, I know I’m not going to change your mind about that.”

“Good.”

“But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” he said.

Mokou quirked a silver eyebrow. She leaned up against the fence and waited.

Joshua had been trying to work out how to word his question over and over and had yet to come up with a satisfactory way, so he decided to just say it. “Mokou, who are you?” he said. “Or rather, what are you?”

…

Satoko sat alone in the basement of her family’s orphanage, just her and Eiko Goto’s body.

When Mokou and Joshua had emerged together from the forest with their missing children draped lifelessly over Mokou’s shoulders, Satoko had feared the worst. They had been too late, the children were all dead or dying, and had only been returned to them as corpses.

To her utmost relief, Mokou had assured her that the kids weren’t dead, only unconscious, and they would be waking up in time. Satoko had felt like massive stones were being rolled off her shoulders. They were all right. Despite all the odds against them, their family was still whole, they had survived yet another outside attack.

And then she had noticed that Mokou only had six kids with her when there should have been seven. When Satoko had asked about Eiko, Mokou only looked over to Joshua, who was carrying a filthy burlap sack over one shoulder. And when Satoko had inquired about what was in the sack, Joshua had said nothing; he didn’t need to. The look in his eyes had told her all that she needed to know.

This of course was not the first time that one of the orphans of Aoki Yume’s Children’s Home had died before coming of age. It wasn’t even the first to occur in Satoko’s lifetime. Hell, it wasn’t even the first to be murdered by a youkai. Gensokyo was full of dangers, all of which were especially deadly to children. At the end of a path that led from the back door, sitting nestled in a small grove of pine trees, was their private cemetery. Satoko’s ancestors were all buried there, as were any of the other helpers that had passed away while working at the orphanage. But most of those buried there had headstones bearing two dates that had gaps between them that were altogether too short.

Satoko had had to bury too many during her life. She had buried her parents, her elder sister and her uncle. She had buried Mr. Matsuda, Miss Kyouko, Miss Lillian, and Mrs. Oa. But while all of their deaths had been sad and painful, they had at least all been due to the ravages of age.

Burying Shuna, Kenta, Eru, Tobi, and Kano had hurt so much more.

And now she was going to have to bury Eiko.

And the worst of it was that she shouldn’t have to.

The fingers of Satoko’s right hand slowly squeezed themselves into a fist and uncurled again, only to clench right back up. Mokou had found something. They hadn’t much time to talk, but Mokou had said that there was more to this than a simple youkai attack, that someone had set this up, someone Human.

The number of people who were set against the orphanage was far larger than it had any right to be, but this was beyond the pale. Wasn’t it enough that they had turned their backs on parentless children, that they had driven them away and denied them support, that they now also actively stirred up dark spirits to murder them? And the same dark spirits that the children themselves were accused of trafficking with no less! It was nothing short of monstrous!

At the very least she knew who was ultimately responsible. This had Nathaniel Skinner’s gloved fingerprints all over it.

I should just let Mokou kill him, Satoko thought bitterly. Him, and everyone else listening to him. What were they going to do about it, isolate her family even more than they already were? Keep trying to kill them? That bird had flown.

Then, as she sat in the dimly lit basement with nothing more than a dead child and her own bitter thoughts for company, Satoko heard something.

It was very faint, so faint that she wasn’t sure that she wasn’t imagining it. It was a little like a soft moan of fear, the whimper of a sleeping baby beset by nightmares.

Satoko listened intently. No, her mind wasn’t playing tricks on her. She was hearing it all right. Someone was softly crying to themselves, someone down there with her. It sounded like a little girl.

And it was coming from Eiko’s shroud-covered corpse.

Satoko slowly breathed out. Well, it was happening again. This was to be expected, after all. She had had to prepare many of those who had passed away under her care for burial herself, and dead bodies were unfortunately not as silent as one might hope. Gas got trapped, their insides shifted, and they could sometimes be alarmingly noisy.

Trapped in what? She was mostly eaten! Her stomach, her intestines, and her lungs are all gone!

The muffled weeping was getting a little louder. Satoko remained sitting where she was, staring at the still form on the table.

She had to be imagining things now, because she was quite certain that she just saw something move beneath the shroud.

Satoko slowly rose from her chair and walked over to the body. Her heart was pounding quite loudly now, and her hands had started to tremble.

This is nothing, she told herself. You’re just weary and scared. You haven’t slept well in days. Of course you wouldn’t be all there. Just let it lie.

Instead, she reached down with one hand and gently pulled the shroud away from Eiko’s face.

The whimpering stopped.

When Mokou and Joshua had shown her the remains of Eiko’s body, her face had been completely gone. Her scalp and hair were still in place, but those monsters had ripped away her lips, cheeks, and nose, exposing the skull beneath, which was smiling its red-stained grin back up at Satoko. Her eyes were gone too, no doubt plucked out and swallowed like a pair of grapes.

Satoko had stared a long time at the ghastly visage. She had seen the ravaged remains of children under her care before, and would no doubt do so again before Death claimed her in her turn, but there was something truly disturbing about the carcass now lying before her, something that terrified her. This wasn’t just some cruel turn of fate, this was deliberate cruelty against an innocent, set in motion by those who should have worked to protect her.

This was evil.

However, all of that was gone now. Eiko’s face was once again whole and unharmed. Her eyes were closed, as if in sleep.

Then Satoko gasped. Eiko’s mouth was moving, the plump lips slowly moving up and down, like she was trying to speak.

Satoko stood frozen with fear, staring unblinking as Eiko’s mouth opened ever so slightly and closed again, over and over, like she was trying to tell Satoko something, something important enough to return for from beyond the grave.

Her mouth finally fell open, and out crawled a fat-bodied black spider. It crawled up Eiko’s face, toward her eyes.

Then something knocked loudly on the basement door.

“Miss Satoko!” Melissa’s voice called from the other side. “Venga rápido! They are awake!”

Satoko couldn’t help from crying out in shock as her whole body jolted. Panting, she held a hand to her thundering heart.

The spider was gone. As was Eiko’s face. It was again a ravaged horror, the flesh ripped off, leaving her bloodstained with its rictus grin and hollow eye sockets.

Satoko hastily pulled the sheet back in place and hurried toward the door. Melissa was there, hand still raised to knock.

“Yes!” Satoko said, perhaps a bit too loudly. “Thank you!”

Melissa nodded. She was about to turn to go, but then her gaze shifting to a spot beyond Satoko. “Ah,” she said. “Is that…”

Satoko quickly moved her away from the door and shut it tight. “Don’t look, Melissa. Just leave her be.”

“Okay,” Melissa said hoarsely. “Um, Miss Satoko?”

“Yes?”

“Is it…” Melissa’s brow furrowed, as it often did when she needed to search her mind for the right word. “Regular? No. Expected?”

“Normal?” Satoko suggested.

“Right! Is it normal that Rumia and Kohta would be…angry after waking up?”

“Angry?” Satoko was puzzled. “How do you mean?”

“They seemed…angry. And…a little mean?”

“At you?”

Melissa nodded.

Sighing, Satoko laid a hand on Melissa’s shoulder. “Well, they’ve been through a lot. I imagine they’re still scared and confused, so don’t take it personally.”

“They didn’t look confused,” Melissa said after a pause. “They just looked angry.”

Satoko

…

Joshua had been bracing himself for Mokou’s response the whole time. Would be angry? Take offense? If he pressed too hard, might she even turn violent? He didn’t think so, but then again, he had been learning a lot about her that he could never have previously guessed at.

But instead, she laughed. “Oh wow, you just up and said it,” she said. “Honestly, I thought someone would’ve tried prying that out of me my first week.” Then she thought for a moment, and then amended, “Though I guess a few of the kids got real persistent with their questions, but they’re easy to wave off.”

“I’m serious though,” Joshua pressed. “Mokou, you were dead. I saw that knife bury itself in the back of your head! It went right into your brain.”

“It did,” Mokou said with a nod.

“That should have killed you!”

“It did,” Mokou said again.

“So…why are you alive? How did you get up? Are you a youkai?”

Mokou laughed again. “Well, that’s actually kind of a complicated question.”

That was not the answer Joshua had been hoping for. “How? It’s a yes or a no question!”

“Not really,” Mokou shrugged. “See, the thing you gotta understand is that ‘youkai’ is actually kind of a fluid term. We use it as a catch-all for any magical creature that came out of something that wasn’t, well, magic before, but it kind of encapsulates a whole lot of variety.”

Joshua stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “I’m listening.”

“Well, see, you got your elemental youkai, you got the ones that come from animals, you got the ones that seem to pop out of whatever odd garbage people left lying around, you got those weirdly specific creeps, you got the ones that I guess come from abstract concepts that I’ve never really been able to figure out, you’ve got your wide variety of spirits.” Mokou drew a finger down the side of her face. “Then you got the ones that come from people. Some of them fall into that whole weirdly specific conditions category, but you also got those that manage to turn themselves into youkai on purpose. A lot of magicians do that. They got a whole ritual for it. In one go, they get eternal life and a new wellspring of magic, so you can see why it’s popular.”

“And is that what you are?”

“Nope.” Mokou straightened up and started walking. Joshua followed her. “I’m something…different.”

“Explain, please.”

The place Mokou led him to was a ring of old logs surrounding a patch of sand, in the middle of which was a smaller ring of stones. On warm summer days they would light a bonfire and all the children would circle around on the logs, listening to someone tell stories.

All the adults took turns as the storyteller, but Joshua and Mokou were the favorites. Joshua would regale the children with stories he had brought with him from the Outside World, as well as those found in the Bible. He wasn’t especially picky too. The saga of Samson was told alongside the journey of Bilbo Baggins. The legend of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves sat comfortably alongside David and Goliath.

Mokou’s tales were of a different sort, ones with fewer heroes and a great many more monsters. She would whisper of bloodthirsty spirits and twisted demons, creatures made up from the bones of the condemned that formed in executioner’s fields or severed heads that crawled about on spider legs, and almost every one of her stories had a bad ending. If Joshua’s stories made the kids laugh and cheer, hers would leave them shivering.

Joshua had a feeling that this particular tale would be no different.

Mokou sat down on the storyteller’s log, with Joshua sitting down on the log next to hers. She held out a hand, flexed her fingers, and a ball of red flame appeared in the air over her palm. A gesture, and it leapt to the ring of stones and filled them with flame, despite there being no wood to feed the fire.

“Wish we had some marshmallows,” Joshua muttered, mostly to himself.

Mokou stared blankly at him. “Some what?”

“Er, sorry. They’re, uh, a kind of campfire snack. Basically puffed up balls of sugar that you’d stick on sticks and roast in the fire.”

“Oh. I see. Outside World thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh,” Mokou said. She shrugged. “Okay. Well, it’s like one of those stories you like to tell the kids. What’d’ya call them again? Fairy…legends? Fairy myths?”

“Oh. Fairytales. Um, we don’t have fairies where I come from, but they show up a lot in really old children’s stories, so we just call old stories about magic fairytales.”

Mokou favored him with a thin smile. “You’re a fool if you think that you don’t have fairies. Or magic for that matter. They’re just not out in the open like they are here.”

“That’s probably true,” Joshua conceded.

Mokou turned her attention back to the fire. “Anyway, how do they start again? Oh right. Once upon a time, there was a terrible princess who lived on the Moon.”

Joshua had readied himself to listen a great deal and speak very little, but already Mokou had made a point that he needed to have clarified. “I’m terribly sorry, but it sounded like you just said that there was a princess who lived on the Moon.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

Joshua stared. “And you mean that literally.”

“Obviously.”

“There are people. People who live on the Moon.”

“Yes, lots.” Mokou was starting to sound a little impatient.

“Oh,” Joshua said, still staring. “So they’re aliens then.”

Mokou shrugged. “Well, so are you, and so am I, if you really want to get technical about things. But yes, that would be correct.” A beat passed, and then she said, “You seem perturbed.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just that Gensokyo took a long time to get used to. Now there’s aliens from the Moon.”

Mokou sighed. “Fuck, Josh. Get used to it! There is literally a bunch of snobby assholes who live on the fucking Moon! Like, they got a whole city up there and everything! How is that in any way weirder than anything that goes on down here?”

“Not by much,” Joshua admitted. “But even so. This is new.”

Mokou rolled her eyes. “They call themselves Lunarians.”

“Lunarians?”

“Yeah. Because they’re from the Moon.”

“Oh. Well, that’s…” Joshua struggled to put his disorganized thoughts into words. “…sort of basic.”

Mokou pressed her fingertips to her forehead. “We live next to the Youkai Forest, which is a forest full of youkai. To the northeast is the Youkai Mountain, which is a mountain full of, you guessed it, more youkai.”

“Okay, I get it,” Joshua sighed.

“And we’ve been dealing with assholes from the Human Village. Hey, try to guess what kind of place that is, and what most of its population is?”

Joshua held up his palms. “All right, all right. So magical people aren’t exactly the most creative when it comes to names.”

“Can I continue my story please?”

“Go ahead,” Joshua said, motioning to her. “I’m listening.”

Mokou turned her head and spat. “Right. So, once upon a freaking long time ago, there was this spoiled rotten twit of a princess up on the Moon. And she is just the worst. Like, okay, she was far from the firstborn so she’s not getting the throne, but she’s still royalty, so she lives in luxury and privilege, never wants for anything, and yet that’s not enough for her. So she decides that she wants to live forever.”

Joshua blinked. Wow, that was a lot of unexpected vitriol. “Oh. Uh, does she?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? I mean, the Lunarian royal family is the next best thing to immortal anyway. All this took place centuries ago, and her dad is still running things, but noooooo, that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted to be completely immortal. As if in, actually live forever instead of just a really long time. Recover from any injury, no matter how severe. And if anything did manage to off her, then…who cares? Her body would just rebuild itself, and she’d be good as new! If anything about her was good to begin with.”

“And it…worked?”

Mokou nodded. “She already had some kind of magical gift to sort of…I don’t know, freeze objects in a state of permanence. Like, if she used it on a vase or pot or whatever, then sure, you could smash it, you could chip it, you could grind it into dust, but it would just put itself back together piece by piece, heal all the cracks, and be exactly how it was. Forever. She just figured out a way to apply that power to people.”

“Um…”

“She was friends with the head scientist or whatever. And they managed to brew up a kind of potion from her power that you could drink. And hey presto! Immortal.”

“I guess there’s no point in asking if it worked.”

“If it didn’t, then her dad would have just executed her and saved us all a lot of trouble,” Mokou said with a derisive snort.

That gave Joshua a start. “Execute his own daughter?”

“We’re talking about a rich and arrogant king with like a double-digit number of kids,” Mokou said flatly. “Like, a high double-digit.”

“That’s…huh.” Joshua shook his head. “You know, there once was a time would I would find the story of Moon people turning themselves immortal to be a silly children’s tale, but now it just seems not the least bit implausible.”

“Right? But they didn’t like that for some reason, and gave the two of them the boot. So they went and hid in Japan.”

“How long ago?”

M: =tells him=

Joshua’s mouth fell open. “Mother of God.”

Mokou tossed a stick into her self-sustaining fire. “I doubt it. She never had kids, and even if she did, any offspring to pop out of her would be just as profane as she is.”

Joshua hesitated. As strange as Mokou’s story was, he felt that he had figured out where it was going, and one point in particular was making him uncomfortable. “Mokou, don’t talk of yourself like that. Regardless of what you might have done, that doesn’t make you-”

Mokou made a disgusted noise deep in her throat. “The hell? Josh! I’m not talking about me! I’m not the fucking Moon princess!”

“What? B-But I thought-”

“Good fucking gods, no!” Mokou slapped her palm across her forehead. “This isn’t my story yet, it’s just the background! I wasn’t even born when all that happened.”

“Oh.” Joshua winced with embarrassment. “Um, sorry for assuming.”

Mokou waved his apology off. “Whatever. So yeah, they got kicked off their rock and ended up on ours. And because they weren’t really the kind to think things through, they forgot to bother with the whole ‘laying low thing,’ it didn’t take long for word to get around that there’s a super-hot immortal Moon princess in town, and before they knew it she was the most eligible bachelorette in the land. Men were lining up outside her door, all seeking her hand in marriage.”

“Now this is really starting to sound like a fairytale,” Joshua remarked.

“Well, I’m sure she’s inspired a few of those.”

“Something tells me that you’re not exactly fond of this Moon princess.”

Mokou laughed at that. “What gave it away? The sound of absolutely contempt in my voice, or the way every single one of my muscles clenches tighter than a ferret’s sphincter whenever I mention her?

“Er, all of the above?”

A long silence fell between them. Mokou continued to stare into the fire, her body unmoving, all except for the fingers of her right hand, which clenched and unclenched over and over. “Yeah, I hate her,” she said at last. “Like, a lot.”

“Why?”

Again Mokou fell silent, and Joshua sat and waited.

So far Mokou’s tone while telling her story had been contemptuous, mocking, and irreverent. But when she finally started to speak again, her voice was soft, low, and contemplative. “Once upon a time, there was a little girl born to the prestigious Fujiwara family. Now, this girl loved her family very much. Her father was strong and kind, her mother sweet and gentle, her brothers loving and encouraging and great fun to be around. And her family’s wealth and influence meant that she wanted for very little.” Mokou took a deep breath, and it caught a little in her throat. “But this girl had a problem, one that cast a shadow over her happiness as she grew older. And that was that her family kept dying.”

Mokou stopped talking. Joshua wondered if he ought to say something, to inquire further. But no. This was her story, and he was going to let her tell it at her pace.

“The first to go was her mother,” Mokou said at last. “Thanks to a hereditary wasting disease, this girl watched her grow weaker and weaker every year, slowly breaking down until she couldn’t even leave her bed. Every second she was in constant pain, and could barely drink water without coughing up blood. And her father wasted away with his wife, but in spirit rather than body.”

The fire had started to change. Though it burned on still despite a lack of a fuel source, it was growing lower and darker, and it was producing far more smoke.

Smoke of what? Joshua wondered, but he felt it wise not to ask.

“The next was her brother,” Mokou continued. “You see, the girl’s family had a problem. An enemy. Another prestigious family was actively trying to destroy them?”

“Why?” Joshua had to ask.

Mokou waved off his question. “It doesn’t matter. Something stupid, from before even her father was born, and it just kept escalating like those things do, until it was like there wasn’t a time when they hadn’t been enemies. But for most of the time, it was just them trying to, you know, humiliate one another, sabotage each other’s business plans, maybe a surprise raid or two, nothing really out of the ordinary for that time.” She took another deep, shuddering breath. “And then one day they received a box, a box with no note or message or anything. And in it was her brother’s head.”

Joshua stared into the smoke so he wouldn’t have to see the look on Mokou’s face.

“Well, with one wife and one son down, that was pretty much half of her father’s family,” Mokou continued. “And since, you know, the disease that murdered her mother was hereditary, and only hit the women, she was next, and there was nothing she could do about it. Even before she became a woman, she could feel it growing inside her, like a hungry black pit deep inside her, just eating her from the inside-out. Soon it would be three of them gone, and with the Sonozikas pressing them harder and harder, who knew when her last brother would wake up with a knife in his heart or take in a mouthful of poison?”

Joshua started at that. “The Sonozikas? Wait, you mean-”

“The same,” Mokou said with a bitter laugh. “Yeah, here’s a spoiler: they ended up winning. They’re still around and running the Human Village, whereas the Fujiwara family is only around because its remaining member literally can’t die.” She shook her head. “Anyway, to move things along, the girl found out that there was someone very special living among them, a bonafide Princess from the fucking Moon, and an immortal one at that. Beautiful, powerful, forever young, and completely and utterly safe from things like disease and assassinations and slipping and cracking her head on the stones and having her guts ripped out, her brain flash-cooked, her head taken right off her shoulders, her entire body reduced to ash or sliced into tiny pieces and spread all the way across-”

“Mokou!” Joshua cried. “Please, I don’t need to know those details!”

Mokou laughed again. “Yeah, sorry. I guess you wouldn’t. Anyway, word got out that this princess was being courted by everything in Japan that had two legs and a functional penis, and there was supposed to be some kind of quest, a sort of wander the country collecting these rare treasures, and the one to bring them all back would win her hand. And the girl convinced her father to give it a shot.”

“Um…” Joshua frowned. “Ah, I’m sorry if this is out of line, but…”

“Why?” Mokou shrugged. “Well, I didn’t know better then. I just heard ‘immortal’ and ‘princess,’ and felt that if my father was to remarry, then it ought to be someone he wouldn’t worry about losing, you know? And I was kind of hoping that she would share her secret of immortality with him and my brother. Not that it ended up mattering, as he ended up coming home a year later, empty-handed and humiliated.”

“Oh.”

“The quest was a scam,” Mokou said flatly. “Pure and simple. A complete wild goose chase. Turns out, the princess already had all of those treasures locked away in her closet, and was just sending those men off just so they would leave her alone, without caring that she was also sending them into some of the most dangerous places in Japan. See, this was before Gensokyo took in all the gods and monsters and youkai and the like, so the country was a lot like Gensokyo is now, and most of those who went on this quest never came back. My father was one of the lucky ones to have survived. Too bad the journey destroyed his health and drained his wealth so that he had to sell off most of his land just to avoid total ruin. And he didn’t forget that it was me that told him to do it.”

Joshua had nothing to say to that at all.

“So yeah, total disaster,” Mokou said. “On the bright side, it got the Sonozikas off our back, seeing how they were the ones who bought most of those properties. I guess they felt that doing so meant that they won. Which, okay, it did.” She clicked her tongue. “Anyway, a couple years go by, and the girl’s just getting weaker and weaker. She tried to stave it off, but with her family’s wealth gone, they couldn’t afford the same treatments that kept her mother alive as long as they did, and even if they did, it wasn’t likely that her father would have bought them.”

“That’s terrible,” Joshua said softly. “To just let one’s own daughter waste away like that.”

“Whatever,” Mokou said. “But then they heard an interesting bit of news. Turns out that the Emperor was one of those seeking the Moon Princess’s hand, and he just plain refused her bullshit quest and wasn’t interested in taking no for an answer. So hey, good for him. But she said no anyway, and that made him angry. And I guess that she figured having the ruler of the country you’re trying to hide in would make one’s eternal life kind of difficult, she tried for making a kind of peace offering. She gifted him with the same potion that made her immortal in the first place.”

“Oh,” Joshua said. “Oh. Well, that’s quite the gift.”

“Maybe, but he didn’t think so, seeing how it just made him even more angry. So much so that he tried to destroy it.”

“Er…why?”

Mokou shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Maybe he thought it was a trick, maybe it’s because he was already an old man and the potion didn’t give you your youth back, so being stuck like that forever would wear off its novelty pretty fast. But anyway, even though he might have been smarter than the rest of her would-be fiancées, he was just as dramatic, because instead of just pouring it onto the ground and sending a bunch of his men to drag her back in chains, he decides to straight-up send it off in this grand caravan and have it thrown into a live volcano!”

Just when it seemed that Mokou’s story started to sound at least a little grounded in reality, it took another fantastical turn. “Okay,” Joshua said at last. “Why a volcano?”

“Fuck if I know!” Mokou said again with a dramatic gesture into the sky with both hands. “He up and died not long after, so I never got the chance to ask him. But whatever, you don’t pull a stunt like that without wanting people to know about it, so of course word reaches the girl that the secret of the Moon Princess’s immortality is headed across the land to be thrown into a fiery mountain. So she decided to steal it.”

“Right,” Joshua nodded. “Because of the disease.”

Mokou shook her head. “Nah, it wasn’t going to be for me. At that point I already resigned myself to death. But with my family half gone and the rest disgraced and me being dishonored in my father’s eyes, then fuck it, what did I have to lose? Maybe if I got that much for him, so that he could be immortal, or my remaining brother, or his new wife if he managed to get one, then maybe I’d be redeemed in his eyes. That, or I would die in the attempt, but honestly I didn’t care about that.”

“Well, obviously you succeeded,” Joshua remarked. “I mean, not in the way you were planning, but you did manage to steal the potion from the caravan.”

“No shit,” Mokou said, giving him a sidelong glance.

“How?” Joshua asked. “I mean, I imagine it would have been guarded.”

Mokou didn’t answer. She just stared long and hard into the fire, the look on her face completely blank.

“Mokou?”

Several more seconds stretched past, and when Mokou finally spoke, her voice was rough. “You don’t need to know that. Just know that things went sideways pretty badly, and by the end of it, the girl was lying in the road, potion in hand, while she bled into the dust.”

“Oh.” Joshua wondered exactly what had happened to make Mokou clam up like that, especially after having discussed several other things of a sensitive and personal nature.

“Well, this girl was now scared,” Mokou continued. “She knew she was to die soon, but for some reason the thought of dying now, before when the disease was to take her naturally, terrified her. And in her pain and panic she did something terrible.” A slow, thin smile spread across her face like a knife wound, one completely devoid of humor and joy. “She drank the potion herself.”

“Anyone else would have done the same,” Joshua said.

Mokou didn’t seem to have heard him. “It was only supposed to be a sip. Just the smallest of sips, not enough to turn her immortal, but enough to heal her hurts, maybe even burn the disease out of her! But the second the potion touched her tongue, she couldn’t stop! Three quick gulps, and it was gone!” She closed her eyes. “And then the pain started. It was like she was being immolated from the inside out. You see, the potion had not been designed with normal Humans in mind. The girl was not some long-lived Lunarian Royal, she was just a normal girl with a weak body, and it wasn’t strong enough to withstand the changes the potion was trying to bring upon her. Her hurts were healed, yes, and it did burn the illness right out of her, but everything else burned as well.”

To Joshua’s alarm, Mokou had begun to burn as well. It was small, but tiny, flickering flames had appeared on the back of her hands and her shoulders. She didn’t seem to notice though. Her clothes weren’t even browning.

“Her organs failed over and over, only to being forced back into working condition, only to fail again. Her bones and muscles dissolved, only to reform in their own soup. Her skin was sloughed right off of her, only to be replaced again and again. Blood poured from her like a river, but never seemed to run out.”

Now the fire was spreading up her arms. Joshua was torn between trusting Mokou’s claims of being fireproof and saying something to warn her. Certainly, everything she had said and done had given him every indication of her not having anything to fear from the flames, but that sort of thing was hard to recall when your friend is literally self-immolating right in front of your eyes. “It seemed like it would never end, that she was cursed to remain in that perpetual state of destruction and rebirth, writhing in agony on that dirt road forever.” Then, as the flame rose up to wreathe her head like an Angel’s halo, she turned to smile at Joshua. “And that is when it came to her.”

Joshua started. “What?”

“The Phoenix,” Mokou said. Her voice had something Joshua had never heard from her before: reverence. “The fire bird of the morning. At first she thought that she had imagined it, that it was just her own pain-addled mind conjuring up delusions, that the flame she was seeing was her own eyeballs boiling in their own juices. But then she heard it speak inside her head. It told her that she had taken something not meant for her, and she was unable to handle its power. That her imperfect body could not adapt and would never again be whole, unless she accepted its help.”

“Help?” Joshua swallowed and scooted a few feet from her. Mokou might be unharmed by the fire, but he had no such protection, and he was starting to feel the heat radiate off her body.

“It would bind itself to her,” Mokou said, still oblivious to the fact that she was very much on fire now. “You see, it was growing old. Phoenixes are creatures of rebirth. They are born, they grow old, and they die, incinerating themselves in their own flame. But from their own ashes they are born anew, young again. But it had done so too many times, and with every rebirth it lost a little more of itself. It was too weak to continue the cycle, just as the girl was too weak. But together, their respective, imperfect forms of immortality might stabilize one another. They might metamorphose into something whole.”

“So, you accepted?” Joshua said. He tried to make the question sound casual, but that was very difficult to do when the person you’re talking to was burning like a torch.

“Well, I was screaming in the throes of unbelievable agony, so I was exactly in a position to refuse,” Mokou responded. “But as I lay there suffering, it entered me. And then the pain really began. Its fire scorched me. And I don’t just mean my body, that was burnt up in seconds. I mean it scorched me to my now immortal soul, burning away every single drop of mortality and impermanence within me. Time ceased to have meaning. Seconds stretched into unbearable, indescribable years. And through it all, all I could do was wish for death, anything to make the pain stop.” She paused for a moment, and then the fires covering her changed, turning from scarlet to gold. “And then my body started to grow back. In the heart of that inferno, my bones forced themselves into existence, reforming and joining together. My organs regrew and reconnected, my meat and ligaments puffing up like tumors, and then skin crawled all over that horror, sealing it all inside. And unlike before, it wasn’t destroyed again.”

She paused again. In her silence, Joshua was finding it very hard not to stare at her, and it wasn’t just due to the absurd novelty of her being on fire.

Mokou had always been lovely, but Joshua had never thought of her in those terms. For one, until that very hour, he had always thought that he was old enough to be her father, but now he knew that the age difference was weighed far, far, far in the opposite direction, and to an absolutely ridiculous extent at that. For another, even if they had been around the same age, there had always been something that felt dangerous about Mokou, something beyond her rough nature and mysterious past, something that told her that she was someone to be kept at arms’ distance.

Joshua had of had always cared for her as a friend and a member of their strange family, and he knew that she loved the children as much as he did and would do anything to protect them, but he knew the look of someone who had stepped onto a bad path and walked it for a long time. He had seen that look many times back during his time with the Military, and when he had been in rehab. Hell, he had worn it himself for quite a while. And while he always did what he could to help those who had it to leave that path as he did, he knew when someone had a self-destructive nature, and Mokou most certainly did; he had seen that about her even before she had revealed just how thoroughly he had underestimated the extent of the damage.

But in that moment, as she sat there bathed in golden light, softly describing being transformed on both a physical and spiritual level, she was the most beautiful thing Joshua had ever seen. And not in any desirable or sexual way; she looked almost angelic, an ethereal being far beyond his comprehension that a lowly mortal like him had no business breathing the same air as.

Which, when one thought about it, was exactly what she was.

“It was the weirdest damn thing,” Mokou said. ‘I was lying there, naked in a dirt road, staring up at the sky. I could barely remember my own name or what had happened to me. The pain was gone, and yet it…wasn’t. I still felt the heat, but it didn’t hurt anymore. It was like hot coals had been sealed up in my stomach, but my stomach had been reinforced with steel, if that makes any sense. And I was changed, changed and made to never change again.”

Then she sighed, and the flames suddenly snuffed out all at once, both the ones covering her body and the burning sphere in the center of the circle, and she was just plain old Fujiwara no Mokou again, the prickly, yet well-meaning, cook of the Aoki Yume’s Children’s Home. “Anyway, that’s why I’m immortal. The end.”

Joshua was already reeling from everything that he had seen and heard over the last hour or so, but this completely knocked him off his gourd. “Wait, what?” he gawked. “But what happened next? Where’s the rest of the story? What did you do after that? What happened with your father, or the Sonozikas, or the Moon princess? What have you been doing all this time, and-”

“No.”

“No?”

Mokou stood up and brushed off her pants. “I told you why I’m immortal. I told you why I didn’t die, and that was more than I usually like to tell. Everything else, everything I’ve done since then, is my own damn business. So, the end.”

Joshua looked to the scorch mark in the ground and the smoke rising from it. He still had an endless bounty of questions, but now that he thought of it, Mokou was right. This was none of his business. Her story was obviously heartbreaking, painful, and horrifyingly long, and she had told as much as she felt comfortable telling.

To be truthful, Joshua felt like he was intruding just by having heard as much as he had. He had known that the mysterious young woman with the rough-around-the-edges personality that the kids had dragged in nearly dead (though he now supposed that she had actually been dead) from the snow had a dark past, but he had never imagined anything on this scale. His friend was literally one of those tragic monsters of legend, the kind who had started off as a simple Human only to be doomed to wander the earth forever due to one, avoidable mistake. She was of the same sort as the Wandering Jew, Stingy Jack, or even Cain himself. Who was he to demand anything from her?

Furthermore, how was he supposed to treat her now? Did they just go back to the way things were and never bring it up again? As tight-lipped as Mokou had suddenly become, Joshua knew that the rest of the story would reflect poorly on her. She had killed people, of that he had no doubt. She had probably killed a great many people, and a lot of them had probably been innocents, people who had been in the wrong place and the wrong time.

Furthermore, he knew that she had done other things. Her torture of those spiders had been cold, efficient, and spoke of a wealth of experience. The few bits she had dropped about the Moon Princess, wherever she was, were nothing short of horrific, and he was willing to bet that those talents had also been employed against those who couldn’t simply regenerate from death and dismemberment.

By any decent metric, Mokou was a monster, one comparable to Vlad the Impaler or Jack the Ripper.

And yet…

“Go ahead,” Mokou said.

“Eh?”

One arm crossing her chest to rest on the opposite elbow, Mokou rolled the wrist of the other. “Decent guy like you hearing a story like mine probably changes how you see me. And I think you’ve put together some of the pieces of the parts I didn’t tell you. So tell me, oh Man of God: have I earned my damnation? Is there something wrong with the universe that I’m never going to see it, that I’m going to be walking the earth long after Gensokyo is gone, after the Outside World had crumbled away, after the rest of humanity is extinct, that I will see the Heat Death of the universe and what lays beyond it? I know a thing or two about your God, as well as all the others, and most of them have some sort of endgame in mind for everything. But no matter what it is, I’m going to come through it, and no matter what perfect world comes out of it, it’ll have my soiled feet walking it.” She grinned. “Kind of seems a little unjust, don’t it?”

Joshua breathed in and out. Wow, this was so very much above his paygrade. He thought in it, letting the various parts of his mind and heart argue it out. As he did, Mokou stood and waited.

Joshua breathed in and out. Wow, this was so very much above his paygrade. He thought in it, letting the various parts of his mind and heart argue it out.

Unfortunately, nothing inside him could come up with a satisfactory response. This was so far above him that his mind felt crushed just by thinking about it. If he had learned that Mokou had been a murderer or something similar, then yes, that would probably change the complexion of their relationship, but not in any meaningful way, as he had known many killers and worse in his time.

“It’s okay,” Mokou said at last.

“Huh?”

“You don’t know what to make of me. You don’t know what to think.” She nodded solemnly. “It’s okay. I understand. It’s too much to take in all at once.”

Joshua stared down at the ground. “Mokou, I-”

“I’m a monster,” Mokou said. “The kind they make stories of, one as dark and evil to ever wander the black corners of the world. I’ve always known that. But I want you to understand something, Josh. Even if you end up hating me, I’m still your monster. Yours, the kids, Satoko’s, Haruna’s, Shion’s, Haruhi’s, all of you. I’m on your side, and I swear if anything tries to hurt any one of you again, then they have to go through me first. And they’ll find that a lot more difficult than they bargained for.”

It was a nice sentiment, but Joshua was still unable to wrap his head around the situation. “Okay,” he said. “But why?”

Mokou quirked an eyebrow. “Why what?”

“Why…Why do you care? Why do you care so much about these kids? Why do you care about us? It just doesn’t make any sense!”

“Ouch, man. That hurts.” Mokou stuck her hands in her pockets and rocked back and forth on her heels. “And say what you want about me, but I’ve never purposefully gone after anyone innocent, especially not kids. That’s a level of evil that I always swore I’d never fall to. Simple, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not!” Joshua said, wringing his hands in agitation.

“Why not?”

“I…” In his struggles to articulate his thoughts, Joshua suddenly recalled a terrible story his platoon captain used to tell, a story that Joshua had always found incredibly troubling, mainly because he knew it was true. “Okay, you told your story to make your point, so here’s one to make mine: once upon a time, there was a soldier walking through a valley where the enemy had destroyed a village, and he find the body of a little girl lying on the side of the road, run through with a sword.

“Now this soldier feels like someone had punched him right in the gut, and he falls to his knees and takes the girl’s body in his arms as he cries. ‘Why, God? Why would you let something so terrible happen to such a beautiful child?’

“But the soldier still has a mission to do, and there is no time for burials, so he leaves the girl and continues on his way. Soon he finds two more dead little girls, their heads cut off, and he stops and starts weeping again, condemning the cruelness of the world.

“Soon he finds two dead little boys and three dead little girls, and he again cries for them, but he doesn’t stop. A few minutes later he comes across a full dozen dead children, and though he shakes his head at the terrible sight, he neither stops nor cries.

“And finally, before he’s left the valley, he comes across an entire elementary school, all of the children executed, their bodies just left for the flies. And he barely even looks at them before continuing on his way.”

“Damn,” Mokou said after he was done. “And I thought my story was gruesome. You trying to one-up me here or something?”

Joshua slowly breathed out. “My point is, you’ve lived hundreds upon hundreds of years. You’ve seen so much dead: men, women, and children. You’ve also caused quite a bit of it too. Normal people like us, we must be like mayflies compared you to, gone in a blink of an eye. So why do these kids matter so much, when by your standards they’ll be gone before you notice.”

At this, Mokou’s face turned serious, all hints of wryness falling away. “Good question,” she said. “Really good question. And I guess…Okay, look: I may be a monster, but the two years I’ve spent here with you guys, cooking for you, working with you, helping you, playing with the kids and everything is the first time for as long as I can remember that I felt like…like something other than a monster. Does that make sense.”

Joshua stared up at her. Then he slowly nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Good,” Mokou said. “So at least we know where we stand. But for now-”

Suddenly some kind of clamor was being raised over at the house. Joshua heard people shouting and running, and then Shion started calling to them from the porch.

“Hey!” she yelled. “You two stop slouching about and get over here! The kids are waking up!”

Joshua and Mokou exchanged looks of surprise. Then the two bolted toward the house.

…

“Kids!”

Rumia and Kohta started at the sudden exclamation. They looked up to see Miss Satoko standing in the door of the sick room, her crease-lined face lighting up and her eyes wet with tears.

“Oh, thank the gods, you’re all right!” Miss Satoko practically fell to her knees in front of the children and threw her arms around Rumia and Kohta both. A little taken back by the sudden display of affection, Rumia glanced uncertainly at Kohta from over Miss Satoko’s shoulder, who shot her the same look back. Then the two gingerly wrapped their arms around the woman in return.

“I was…I was so afraid…” Miss Satoko whispered. “When you disappeared, I thought I would never…” Then she drew back and smiled at the two. “But you’re here.” She cupped their faces with her hands. “You’re all right.”

Rumia flinched at the touch. For some reason, her palm just felt way too warm. “I’m…we’re…”

“Shhh.” Miss Satoko pressed a finger to Rumia’s lips. It hurt. “It’s okay. We can talk later.” She leaned forward to kiss the top of Rumia’s forehead. “Just rest for now. It’s enough to know you’re alive.”

Rumia instinctively drew back from the kiss, but stopped herself. What was she doing? Miss Satoko kissed their foreheads all the time! Still, it felt…wrong this time. Her lips felt hot, like a branding iron was being pressed against her brow. Still, she gritted her teeth and bore it.

“Miss Satoko?” Kohta said. His voice still sounded weirdly creaky and hollow. “W-What about…” He coughed. “What about the others? They won’t wake up.”

“Don’t worry, they’re fine,” Miss Satoko said. “It’s just that…” She made a face. “Well, the spiders stung them, you see. They still need to get it out of their systems. But they should be waking up soon.”

Rumia cast a dubious look over to Kana, who was still breathing shallowly.

“Okay, but how did we get…home?” Kohta said. “Because I don’t…”

Miss Satoko stroked his hair. “Mr. Joshua and Miss Mokou found you in the forest,” she said. “They said you were lying unconscious, like you had fallen asleep, and they carried you back.”

“Miss Mokou’s back?” Rumia whispered. It still hurt a little to talk.

Miss Satoko nodded. “She got back right after you two went off. As soon as she found out what happened she went right after you.”

“Oh.” Rumia’s face twisted up as she tried to put all of her scattered thoughts in order. “Uh, are we…in trouble?”

That made Miss Satoko laugh a little. “No, Rumia. I mean, normally, yes you would be, because what you did was very foolish and dangerous. But I think what you went through was more than enough punishment. I’m just glad you’re still alive.”

“Alive,” Kohta whispered. He suddenly sat straight up. “Alive! Miss Satoko. It’s Eiko! She-”

The smile vanished from Miss Satoko’s face, to be replaced with naked pain. “I know, I know,” she said hoarsely. “Mokou told me everything.”

“What?”

“Miss Mokou and Mr. Joshua…found her too. They brought her home as well.”

“Brought her…you mean her body?”

Miss Satoko swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

“But…the spiders! They would’ve-”

“The spiders won’t be a problem anymore.”

Rumia, Kohta, and Miss Satoko all looked to the door. Miss Mokou was there, leaning against the doorpost with her hands in her pockets.

“Wh-What?” Rumia said.

“You don’t have to worry about the spiders,” Miss Mokou said. “I took care of them.”

“Mokou,” Miss Satoko said. “Maybe this had better-”

“Can we have a few moments?” Miss Mokou said.

“I don’t think-”

“I won’t be long. Just need to ask a few questions.”

“It’s okay,” Rumia told Miss Satoko. “I’d like to talk to her.”

“Me too,” Kohta said.

Miss Satoko hesitated, but then nodded. “Okay. Don’t take too long.” She kissed them both again. Rumia winced when Miss Satoko’s lips touched her forehead

She passed by Miss Mokou, stopped, and laid a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. Miss Mokou gave her fingers a brief squeeze before she left.

“Well,” Miss Mokou said as she entered the room and closed the door, leaving them alone with her. “Sure am glad you two are up and about at least. Feel all right?”

“No,” Rumia said.

“Didn’t think so.” Miss Mokou sat in front of them, legs folded and hands on her knees. “Apparently you two snuck out the moment you could. Didn’t wait for any grown-ups at all, just plunged into the forest yourselves, right?”

“Yes,” Kohta said.

“Heh. Well, that was fucking stupid, but based on what I’ve learned, if you hadn’t, someone else would’ve probably died too. So, you know, good job.”

Rumia hesitated, and then asked. “M-Miss Mokou. The…spiders.”

“What about them?”

“Did you really, you know…”

Miss Mokou nodded. “I did. Your little firework show told me pretty plain where to find them. Found the four of them trying to put out the fires with Eiko’s body still on the table. That told me enough.”

“But…they’re youkai. They’ll come back.”

“No, they won’t,” Mokou said with absolute surety. “Youkai can come back from most things, but there are a few kinds of death that keep them. And I so happen to know at least one of them.”

Rumia felt a chill sweep up her back. “What did you do to them?”

A spark flickered in the dark pupils of Mokou’s maroon eyes. “I burned them alive.” She rotated her right wrist around on her knee, moving the palm upward. A hovering ball of flame suddenly flashed into existence over her hand. “But first I broke them. Slowly. And with great deliberation. I broke them, I hurt them, I made them scream, and after they had told me everything I wanted to know, I set a fire deep inside them that roasted them until their flesh had crisped and their fat melted and even their bones turned to ash.” She closed her fingers shut, snuffing out the flame. “Isn’t as good stopping them from taking you in the first place, but at the very least I made their meal more expensive than they were willing to pay.”

“Good,” rasped a weak-sounding voice.

Rumia turned to see Haruko struggling to sit up. Her former nemesis looked pretty bad, not as bad as Kana, but she was still gaunt and haggard. Her long dark hair, usually so carefully brushed and cleaned, was a nightmare of oily knotted strands that hung in clumps around her face.

“Good,” Haruko said again. “They deserve it.”

“How long have you been awake?” Kohta asked.

Haruko coughed from deep inside her chest. “Few minutes,” she muttered. “When Miss Satoko was still here.” She looked up at Miss Mokou. “You brought Eiko back home, right?”

Miss Mokou nodded. “Me and Joshua did. We were just waiting for you to wake up before we put her to rest.”

Tears shown in Haruko’s eyes. She blinked several times, sniffed, and wiped her eyes with her arm. “Th-Thank you.”

A heavy silence passed between them. Then Miss Mokou sighed and said, “But that wasn’t the only reason I was waiting for you to wake up. See, I learned most of what there is to know about your rescue from the spiders, but not what happened after. They said that they stopped following you when you went into a place called the bone grove, which had something called the black circle. That’s where I found you, all of you. You were all lying lifeless just outside the bone grove. What happened?”

“The…bone grove?” Rumia repeated.

“Yes. A place filled with black trees that had been turned to stone, that had skeletons fused into their trunks. And its center had this circle of black sand.” Miss Mokou shook her head. “Damn. I thought I had seen every ugly corner of Gensokyo, but that was a new one, even for me. Even so, nothing happened the whole time I was in there. I tried setting the trees on fire, but they wouldn’t burn. I tried melting the sand, but it just swallowed up my fire like it was nothing, and that does not happen. But I felt like there was something in there, something that was deliberately locking me out. So I need to know what happened to you all in there.”

“Nothing,” Rumia, Kohta, and Haruko all said in unison.

Miss Mokou narrowed her eyes. “Well. That response was…quick. And unanimous. And obviously not true.”

“Nothing happened!” Haruko insisted.

“Oh, yeah? So, what, you just fell unconscious in the middle of the Youkai Forest for several minutes without anything picking you off? The spider chasing you just up and decided to leave you there for no reason?”

“Yes!” Rumia said crossly. Why couldn’t Miss Mokou just drop it? It wasn’t any of her business!

“Huh,” Miss Mokou said. “I see.”

Then, moving quicker than a striking snake, she reached up with both hands to grip Rumia and Kohta by the chins.

Rumia tried to recoil, but the fingers holding onto her jaw were too strong. And if the touch of Miss Satoko’s hand had been uncomfortably warm, Miss Mokou’s felt hotter than a cattle brand. It was searing into her skin, so much so that she could practically smell her own flesh sizzling.

“STOP IT!” Kohta screamed.

“LET US GO!” Rumia agreed. Haruko lunged forward and shoved Miss Mokou in the chest.

Miss Mokou didn’t budge, but she did raise a single eyebrow. “Well,” she said. “That answers that.”

Then she let them go.

The three of them scrambled away from her, putting as much distance between them and Miss Mokou. “What do you think you’re doing?” Kohta demanded. “Don’t touch us!”

Miss Mokou said nothing. She just calmly looked from one face to the other, her narrowed eyes piercing into theirs.

Then the doorknob started rattling. “Mokou?” Miss Satoko said from the other side. “Mokou, what was that? What are you doing?”

“Huh,” Miss Mokou said.

“Open the door! Mokou?”

Miss Mokou stood up. “Well, that’s everything I need to know. You three get some rest. Awake or not, you’re definitely not fully recovered.”

“Yes, we are!” Haruko protested. “We’re fine!”

“Uh-huh. Sure you are.” Miss Mokou walked over to the door and opened it, revealing not only Miss Satoko, but the rest of the grown-ups as well, all crowded outside the door.

Without saying anything, Mokou left the room and shut the door, leaving the six of them alone.

…

“Mokou, what the hell was that?” Shion hissed. “What were you doing to them?”

“Exactly,” Satoko said, a cold look in her eyes. “You have five seconds to explain why they were screaming before I-”

Mokou held up a finger, silencing them. “No,” she said. “Not here. Haruna’s room. Now.”

Haruna folded her arms. “Kid, you better explain yourself right now.”

“Not. Here,” Mokou repeated. “Head to Haruna’s room and lock the door.”

“Mokou, you were hurting them!” Joshua said. “They were screaming, and-”

Mokou then noticed something. She held up a palm, silencing him, as she turned her attention over to the stairs.

Practically every child in the orphanage not currently in the sick room were clustered around the top steps, staring intently at them.

“OUTSIDE!” Mokou roared.

The kids cleared out faster than she had ever seen them do. She listened as they ran, hopped, and in some cases tripped their way downstairs and out the front door.

When the thumping stopped and the door slammed shut, she turned to the rest of the orphanage’s staff.

“Okay, so now can we go to Haruna’s room so I can explain why we are now all in very real danger?” she said.

That did it. Their looks of confusion and anger turned to ones of confusion and fear. “Okay,” Haruna said. “But why my room? Why not yours?”

“Because my window still has a big hole in it from my hasty exit earlier, and yours has the thickest walls.”

“Well, I’m a light sleeper,” Haruna said, and a bit indignantly at that. “And there’s always some child walking the halls every night.”

“Right, but this isn’t something I want anyone listening in on, so if we could…” Mokou motioned down the hall with both hands.

The six of them quietly filed through the hall and into Haruna’s room. It was a very nice place for such a rough-looking woman, decorated with bright colors and several chalk drawings she had done herself.

“All right,” Satoko said once Haruna had locked the door. “We’re here. Now tell me what you did to them, and maybe I’ll consider not expelling you right now.”

“I grabbed their chins to get a good look at their eyes,” Mokou said. She pinched her own jaw between her thumb and index finger as demonstration. “Like this.”

“That’s it?” Shion said. “But they sounded like you were burning them!”

“That’s because that’s how it felt. Satoko, did you notice how they flinched when you kissed them?”

Satoko stared blankly at her. “Did they?”

“They did. In fact, I’d say they were scared of being touched at all.

“Mokou, we’re begging you,” Shion said. “Say things that make sense!”

Mokou sighed. Oh well, she was in for it already. “Fine. I already told Satoko and Joshua all this, so look them up for the details, but the long and short of it, I’m immortal.”

Haruhi made noise that wasn’t quite a gasp and not quite a hiccup, but was very similar to both.

“Yeah, so to just preemptively answer your questions, no, I’m not a youkai,” Mokou said. “I’m Human, but several hundred years ago I drank a magic potion that made so I’m going to live forever. And I later got super-charged with a whole lot of fire, so that’s what that is all about. But anyway, I’ve been around a long time, and know how to recognize certain things-”

“Excuse me?” Haruhi squeaked. “Uh, I know this is very important, but can we go back to the part where you’re immortal and apparently hundreds of years old?”

Shion shrugged. “Makes sense to me.”

“Well, yeah,” Haruna said. “I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

“You two knew?” Haruhi said.

“Well, no, but I figured it had to be something like that,” Shion said.

“I did,” Haruna said.

“You did?” Mokou said.

“Sure. I mean, I’ve been hearing stories about the Daughter of the Phoenix my whole life, one that’s supposed to be wandering the Bamboo Forest of the Lost. Then all of a sudden the kids drag in a frozen corpse that is all sorts of dead, except no it’s breathing again in minutes, and all of a sudden those stories stop.” Haruna shrugged. “All in all, it wasn’t hard to put together.”

“Huh,” Mokou said thoughtfully. “Well, when you put it like that…”

Haruhi held up her hands and stomped off to a nearby chair. “I need to sit down.”

“So…you’re really that old, huh?” Shion asked.

“Yeah,” Mokou said. “I’ve been around basically forever, and probably will still be around after everything’s gone.”

Shion thoughtfully rubbed her chin. “How much of forever are we talking? Like, since the beginning of time, or…”

“Oh, no,” Mokou snickered. “I was exaggerating. But about a hundred years or so before Gensokyo was created.”

Haruhi jolted in her chair. “You were born before Gensokyo was created?!”

“Yeah, and let me tell you, that was a hell of a news story.”

“A-And you told…” Haruhi pressed a palm to her forehead. “Okay, I get why you told Satoko, but why Joshua? I mean, no offense, Josh. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“None taken,” Joshua said. “And, well, I just, you know, asked her.”

Haruhi stared at him for a good long time before nodding. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

Satoko sighed. “Well, this is all very fascinating, but it’s distracting from the main point. Mokou, continue.”

“Right,” Mokou said. “So, I’ve been around, I’ve seen and done a lot of things, and I’ve learned to recognize certain things as well.”

“Things like what?” Haruna asked.

Mokou frowned. “Now, I only got a short look at them, but it was enough that I’d bet every single one of my remaining centuries that those kids found…something in the bone grove, something that left its mark on them.”

“What is the bone grove?” Shion asked. “Do you even know anything about it?”

Mokou shook her head. “Never even heard of it until now, which bothers me. I mean, sure, I’ve never really been the one to go digging up any of Gensokyo’s endless mysteries, but something that big really sounds like something I should have at least heard of. The spiders said that it’s a place that nobody goes to, that everyone in the forest just avoids and doesn’t talk about. Can’t say that I blame them.”

“The spiders,” Satoko repeated. “That you tortured.”

“Yeah, those are the ones. But anyway, even if I’ve never heard of this particular batch of creepy, it’s clear to me that even though I didn’t find anything specific in it, those kids did. And they took a piece of it with them.”

Satoko swallowed. “What is that even supposed to mean? What did it do to them?”

“Exactly what I said. Whatever it is, they got a piece of it inside them, and it’s influencing them somehow.”

Joshua inhaled sharply. “Wait, are you telling me that they’re possessed?”

“Hell if I know,” Mokou said. “Could be, but I don’t think so. They seemed mostly normal until I tried to talk to them about the bone grove, which is when they got weirdly hostile. And they didn’t freak out until I touched them. So I’m thinking that it’s just, you know, influencing them.”

“Is it dangerous?” Shion asked.

“Undoubtedly,” Mokou said with a nod.

Everyone fell silent as they all digested her answer. Then Shion said, “So, what do we do about it?”

Mokou thought on that. “In the long term? Not sure. But for now, keep them together in the sick room and away from the rest of the kids. Don’t let anyone go in there, and don’t let them leave, not until we learn more about what it is and what it’s doing to them.”

“No!” Satoko cried. “Are you out of your mind? I’m not going to make them prisoners in their own home!”

Mokou had been expecting that kind of reaction, and while it was understandable, this wasn’t the time to err on the side of kindness. “Would you rather one of the other kids end up dead? We already lost Eiko. You wanna risk someone else?”

“What about the funeral?” Haruhi said softly. “We put off laying Eiko to rest so they could be there. Haruko and Hayate were her friends. Are we going to keep them locked up during that?”

“Probably.”

“No,” Satoko repeated. “Absolutely not. Mokou, you go too far!”

Mokou gave a nonchalant shrug with one shoulder. “Someone has to.”

“She’s right,” Joshua said to her. “Satoko, I mean. This is just cruel. They’re already isolated from the rest of the Human community, and now you want to isolate them further?”

“If I gotta,” Mokou said. “Look, I’m not saying lock them up for life. I’ll go get the Hakurei shrine maiden. She’s an expert in this sort of thing. Hell, I’ll scare up Yukari Yakumo if I have to.”

That got a reaction from the others, almost as much as the reveal about her immortality did. “Yukari Yakumo!” Haruhi gasped. “You know Yukari Yakumo?”

“Not personally,” Mokou said. “But it’s a kind of ‘know people who know her’ sort of thing. Anyway, I’m pretty sure I can scare her down if I have to.”

“If you want to bring her into this, then do so,” Satoko said. “Bring anyone you think can help. But I am not locking them up, and they are not missing the funeral.”

Mokou scowled. “Bad idea, Satoko. When a kid gets sick, we keep them away from the others, don’t we?”

“It’s not the same thing!”

“Satoko, I think she’s right,” Haruna said in a low voice.

Satoko gaped at the older woman. For her part, Haruna merely folded her arms. “If those kids have been touched by something evil, then it’s our responsibility to do what we can to keep everyone safe. I know it sounds cruel, but we’re on a knife’s edge already. We can’t afford to take risks.”

“But that’s what Skinner and Sonozika are doing, isn’t it?” Satoko said. “Saying that we’re infected with evil to keep us isolated from everyone else? How are we any different if we do this?”

“Because number one, they’re just doing it because they’re hateful bigots,” Mokou said. “We actually have proof that something’s wrong. And number two, we intend to help the kids. They’re not.”

Satoko still looked unconvinced. “That’s not good enough, Mokou. After everything they’ve been through, I’m not going to separate them from their friends. I’m not going to treat them like monsters!”

“Satoko, it ain’t forever,” Haruna said, laying a meaty hand on the taller woman’s shoulder. “Mokou knows people that can help, right? Powerful people who specialize in this kind of crap. So we just keep them by themselves as a precaution until these people show up to take a look at things. Then they’ll fix the kids right up, and everything will go back to normal.”

Satoko looked hurt by Haruna’s words. “Haruna, you can’t be taking her side! You’ve helped raise these children even longer than I have! You know how close they are with one another! I mean, Rumia and Kohta have been fighting with Haruko, Hayate, and Eiko for as long as I can remember, and they still risked their lives to save them!”

“Think, Satoko! Think with your head! The safety of the children come first! Of course we’ll do everything we can to ensure that they’re okay, but until then, we need to be smart!”

“But-”

“What if whatever it is takes control of them when they’re asleep?” Mokou demanded. “I’ve seen things like that happen before. What if we wake up to find everyone’s throats slit? Or the house set on fire. Or-”

“Stop, Mokou! Just stop talking!”

Mokou’s gaze was like steel. “You know I’m right.”

“I…” Satoko’s eyes welled up with tears. “Fine then! If you think it’s so important, then fine! But only as long as it takes to get them help, and they are not missing the funeral!”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mokou said. “We still don’t-”

“They’re going to be there, and that’s final! And speaking of which, seeing how you’re so good with fire, you can handle the cremation. Immediately.”

Mokou sighed. “Fine. And if they must be there, then fine. But at the very least keep them apart from the others.”

Satoko bit her lower lip. “How quickly can you get the Hakurei shrine maiden here?”

“Well, I’d have to find her again,” Mokou said after thinking on it. “But I don’t like the thought of leaving, not after what happened last time. I suppose I could send someone else to look for her.”

“Who?” Joshua said.

…

Tewi Inaba looked down at the list of instructions Mokou had given her, and then up again at the tall Human who had given it to her. “You serious with this?”

“Look, we’ve had enough shit go down here, so I can’t afford to leave them unprotected,” Mokou said. “And I’m a little short in contacts that might actually find her. So yes, I am serious with this.”

“Right,” Tewi sighed. “You know, we haven’t had that crust bitch poke her killjoy ass in our forest ever since you left. It’s been kind of nice. And now you just want us to go looking for her?”

“Tewi,” Mokou said, warning in her tone.

“Fine, fine, I’ll find her,” Tewi said as she held up her palms in defeat. “But you owe me.”

“Put it on my tab,” Mokou said. “I mean, I’ve got nothing but time to settle up.”

…

Me tired.

Until next time, everyone.

#imperfect metamorphosis #touhou #the touhou project #fanfic #rumia #fujiwara no mokou #mokou

7 notes · View notes