#but it never lets you forget that the past always cast its traumatic shadows on the present

[teafiend]

A revisit of Episode 7. This episode is truly the most heartbreaking in an already deeply tragic show.

The tragedies are shown in the small moments, the minute expressions, the conflicts, the words and each and every gesture ���😭👏🏽🫡

And KGY is forever gorgeous 🫡

(GIFs credited to @Nungchae, Twitter/X)

[wingsofkpop]

Hiraeth - I.V: Rise of the Primes

pairing(s):  Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre:  Supernatual!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, blood and gore, very brief depiction of magical torture, mentions of child abuse and other traumatic experiences, etc. 

word count: 8,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Mark remembers a time when he was much younger, much, much more naive, and completely oblivious to his magical roots.  

And while he’s not usually one to look back into his past, nowadays, he can’t help but wonder about those clueless years where his sole care was passing dreaded calculus class and keeping his pot stash hidden from his mom. Sometimes Mark even misses those days—misses his mom.

Mark often wonders what would have happened if his mom wasn’t killed that night. He was only just beginning to learn the basics of witchcraft back then, barely able to keep his emotions in check without blasting a window to pieces. If his mom were still around, would he have done the stupid things he knew better than to do? Would he have sought for such ambitions he knew he could never achieve? Would he have been a better leader, witch, man…?

Yes. Mark knows that. He would be better. 

It’s been years since Mark tried to talk to his mother, having given up trying to summon her spirit when he received a personal message from her telling him to stop—to let her go. Even so, he wishes that he can just have one minute. One short minute to see her face, to look into her eyes, and to ask her the same question that has been haunting his mind since he found her body in a pool of her own blood in their home: 

‘What the fuck am I supposed to do now?’

As much as he plays the leader-card, and as much as he acts like he’s all-knowing—Mark has no clue what he’s doing. It’s as if he’s been inside a maze these past nine years, unable to find the right path that leads him to glory. Maybe if she was still here, holding his face in her wrinkled hands and speaking his name in her sweet voice, Mark would know what to do. He’d know how to get rid of the huntress and the witch without taking their lives. He’d know how to protect his people, and the rest of the town. 

He’d know how to be better—to do better. 

Mark shakes his mother’s face from his mind, attempting to focus on the passing scenery of the forest. He adjusts his grip on the steering wheel before reaching forward to turn his air conditioning on full blast, then adjusting his grip again.

It’s been months since he last traveled this way, yet all the sights are the same. The trees are the same trees. The shrubbery, the same shrubbery. Even the rocks haven’t changed save for a new crack or two. That thought actually spills anger through his veins. It’s as if the forest doesn’t realize something is missing—someone is missing.      

‘And it’s your fault.’ 

Mark shakes the intrusive thought away, peering at his companion through the corner of his eye. Jinyoung, like Mark, is merely staring at their surroundings, dark eyes flitting around in every direction. Before everything happened, Mark would have never predicted that one of the Primes would be riding in his passenger’s seat with no care in the world. To be honest, he’s still having a hard time believing him and Jinyoung are on decent terms at all. 

“My sisters and I used to play in these woods.” Mark is taken aback by the sudden, albeit casual comment from the vampire, nearly losing his footing on the gas pedal. He looks to the side once again, discovering Jinyoung’s gaze still fixated outside the window.

Mark clears his throat. “I… didn’t know you had siblings.” 

“It was a long, long time ago.” Jinyoung shrugs, “Besides, we weren’t close anyway.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

His question is answered with silence, and when he turns to the passenger, Jinyoung’s expression is blank, almost cold. Mark decides not to press and focuses back on the road. 

The cabin has not changed either, Mark notices as the structure comes into sight. A heaviness begins to settle within his chest as he parks in the gravel driveway, one that has his heart beating twice its normal speed and palms beginning to sweat. Trying not to dwell on it too much, Mark cuts out the engine and wipes his hands against his jeans. He’s prepared to exit the vehicle when a sudden realization enters his brain. 

Mark turns to Jinyoung and sighs, “I think it might be best for you to stay in the car.” 

“I was thinking the same thing.” Jinyoung agrees, granting the witch a rigid nod.

“Just don’t steal my truck, okay?” 

“This piece of junk?” Jinyoung chortles, “It’s practically falling apart.” 

“Don’t piss her off. She still has to get us home.” Mark finds his chest a little lighter as a result of their banter, something he would never admit aloud to the vampire. With a silent farewell, Mark shoves open his door and steps into the bright sunlight, cursing himself for forgetting his sunglasses back at the mausoleum. 

The log cabin casts a drowning shadow over Mark as he makes his way toward the figure waiting on the steps that lead up to a redwood porch. Overgrown vines and moss seem to inhabit every available spot of the cabin, winding around wooden supports and spilling down each roof tile. If it hadn’t been for the catch of the sunlight, Mark wouldn’t have been able to notice one of the grimey windows on the second floor had been cracked. 

“Long time no see, hyung.” Mark finds his chest tightening at the tired tone of the figure’s voice. 

He paints what he hopes to be a smile across his lips and nods. “It’s nice to see you, Gyeom.” 

Like the cabin, it has also been months since Mark has seen his younger friend. Yugyeom has always been a giant, towering over him and basically everyone else in town since he hit puberty, but if Mark didn’t know any better, he’d say the wolf had grown even more. His shoulders are broader, dark hair longer, hands calloused and slightly marred with the throes of hard work. He must still be working for the town’s lumber service. 

Yet another something that hasn’t changed. 

“How… How are things?” 

Yugyeom shrugs. “You know how it is out here. Not much excitement.” 

“Right.” The silence between them grows heavier and heavier with each passing second. Mark searches his brain for something to expel the awkwardness, but can’t seem to see past the guilt and suffocating self-loathing swirling through his gut. 

He thanks the universe when Yugyeom breaks the quiet himself. 

“I know you didn’t come just to check in, hyung.” His gut sinks at the younger’s painfully true observation. “What’s going on? And why can I smell a Prime in your passenger seat?” 

“I don’t if you’ve heard, but Nayeon was killed last week.” 

Yugyeom’s eyes soften. “I saw it on TV. I’m really sorry, hyung,” 

“The people who killed her—a witch and supernatural huntress—they’re after the rest of the coven.” Mark ignores Yugyeom’s sympathy, fiddling with a loose thread inside the pocket of his jeans. “Jinyoung has been helping us track them down. He’s gonna help us fight but…” 

“But you’re not sure if it will be enough.” 

“I know I have no right to show up here and ask for your help, Gyeom.” With a gulp, Mark dares to step closer to the small staircase. Even as far as scaling the first two steps to move closer to his younger companion. Mark shakes his head, “But—I’m desperate. My people are in danger and… and I don’t want anyone else to die.”  

Another moment of silence passes, save for the violent beating of Mark’s pulse. Yugyeom stares at Mark, his gaze a cross between pained and hopeful. Just when the latter feels like his lungs are going to explode, Yugyeom releases a helpless sigh and shakes his head. 

“I want to help you, hyung. I really do… but I can’t risk anyone in the pack. Especially against a hunter.” 

Mark’s heart drops to his stomach. 

Yugyeom sends him a sad expression. “I’m sorry. I really am.” 

“It’s okay. I get it.” Mark nods, taking a rather clumsy step backward off the porch steps. He manages to save himself from the embarrassment of collapsing into the gravel before offering Yugyeom a weak smile. “I… I would do the same thing. If it were my people.” 

“Hyung—” Yugyeom moves to follow Mark, descending a single stair just as the front door swings open. The embers of Mark’s self-loathing grow to flames at the sight of various familiar faces crowded in the doorway, and he wishes nothing more than to cast a spell that makes him completely disappear. 

“What’s going on?... Mark?” Chan emerges behind Yugyeom, his features a mixture of confusion and surprise. Another few bodies join the younger man, each set of eyes reopening a mess of old scars in Mark’s soul. 

“Mark-oppa!” He barely has time to prepare when a smaller figure dashes down the staircase and collides with his body. His arms catch the figure’s waist before her form falls to the ground, supporting her weight against his own form. 

He releases a heavy, yet silent breath. “Dahyun.” 

“Where the hell have you been!?” Dahyun pulls from the embrace with a fierce, yet playful spark within her dark eyes. “It’s been months, Mark! Months!” 

“I know… It’s just been kind of… weird lately.” 

“We’ve missed you… I’ve missed you.” 

He winces. “Yeah. Me too.” 

“What the hell is he doing here?” Mark recognizes the familiar gritty tone, turning his eyes from Dahyun to a seething Changbin. The animosity in his glare deepens Mark’s wounds. 

“Changbin. Don’t.” 

“He has no fucking right to be here.” Changbin ignores Chan’s warning, narrowing his eyes to poisonous slits. 

“Changbin! You asshole—”  

“It’s okay. I was… just leaving.” Mark interrupts Dahyun’s scold, peeling himself away from her arm like a bloodied bandage. He spares a glance and a nod to a pained Yugyeom, “Thanks, Gyeom. I’ll see you around, okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Dahyun reaches for Mark again. “But you just got here. You can’t just—”  

“Dubu…” Dahyun turns at Yugyeom’s call, watching the sad shake of his head with glittering eyes. “Let him go…” 

Mark’s heart practically cries out at the pure devastation written across the younger woman’s face as she helplessly drops her arms to her sides. He chooses not to linger on her expression, nor Chan’s, nor Yugyeom’s, and with a final nod of his head, makes a break back to his beat-up, rusted truck. 

In mere seconds, Mark is driving away from the cabin—driving away from the pain. It’s not until the cabin is completely gone from his rear-view mirror is he able to inhale a full breath without his lungs screaming out. 

“No one else is going to die.”  

Jinyoung hadn’t said anything at his frantic entrance, nor that he hadn’t paused to throw on his seatbelt. In fact, Mark had almost forgotten the vampire was in the vehicle at all. He turns to find Jinyoung staring out the window, just as before. And if he hadn’t spoken again, Mark would have thought he imagined the voice himself. 

Jinyoung turns, sending chills down Mark’s spine at the intensity of his gaze. 

“You have my word.” 

Mark can’t find it in himself to respond, stuck between unwanted memories and the nostalgia of uncured heartbreak. He instead swallows the bile at the back of his throat, carefully throws on his seatbelt, and turns up the radio. 

The music does nothing to drown out the cruel thoughts raging through his mind. 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The scenery outside the car window passes by in verdant blurs, settling a slight wave of nausea in your gut. Not desiring to vomit up the Chinese you ate beforehand, you turn your attention to the young driver instead, meeting her starry-eyed gaze in the rearview mirror. 

“How much longer?” 

“The estate is just up this hill, miss.” The driver assures. “It should be no more than a couple minutes.” 

You nod your thanks, peering out the window before remembering your sickness in the first place. With a silent sigh, you abandon the prospect of any sight at all and close your eyes, leaning into the comfort of the headrest. The slight pressure actually somewhat relieves the throb in the back of your brain. The headache that has been present ever since you stormed out on Mark and Jinyoung. 

It’s been almost three days since you learned the truth about Moon Dye Bay and all its supernatural offerings. You’d think by now you’d be able to process the fact that your best friend is a witch, and the charming man that saved you from likely death is a vampire—one of the oldest vampires in existence at that. But alas, you’re still having a hard time believing any of this is possible. Even with all the evidence, and proof, and general rules of logic. 

Then again, vampires and witches and werewolves and hunters and whatever other creatures aren’t exactly logical… considering they go against everything that is the basis of nature. 

Anywho, neither Mark nor Jinyoung has even tried to reach out since that afternoon. In fact, Mark hasn’t returned any of your calls or texts. Though you’re not exactly surprised as both he and Jinyoung made it very clear of your position on the sidelines. 

Too bad you’ve never been much of a player who likes to miss the action. 

“We’ve arrived, miss.” Your eyelids snap open at the sound of the driver’s lilted voice, jaw almost dropping at the sight that awaits. You shimmy forward, greedily taking in the expanse outside the car window as the driver maneuvers the vehicle up the cobblestone-paved driveway. 

If you had to use one word to describe The Project Estate, it would be massive. Completely fucking massive.  With a single glance, you can only imagine how many acres of land make up the entire lot. The mansion itself is bigger than any building you’ve set foot inside, resembling that of a miniature castle without the turrets, walls and moat. You’re pretty sure it’s at least four times the size of your apartment building. 

“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” The driver marvels, craning her own head over the steering wheel to take in the view. “The Project Brothers are crazy loaded to be able to afford anything like this… What do you think they do?” 

Rob banks with their vampire super strength? Steal artifacts and masterpieces with their vampire super speed? Accumulate millions and millions of dollars in wealth after being alive for centuries?  

You shrug. “They probably own real estate or something.” 

Once the driver stops in front of what you hope to be the front door, you quickly bid her farewell with a generous tip and exit out onto the stone pathway. The purr of the engine grows fainter and fainter as the vehicle turns back the way you came in, leaving you stranded in the shadow of the towering mansion. You can only hope Jinyoung is home. 

An old fashioned, golden door knocker rests on the door, fashioned into the shape of a growling lion. You ignore the goosebumps forming across the skin underneath your jacket and pick up the knocker. It’s heavy in your palm, striking the door with such powerful strikes, it must be impossible for anyone inside not to hear. 

You visited the cemetery earlier, prepared to convince Mark of your resourceful and beneficial addition to whatever little team he’s gathering, but you only found an empty mausoleum, and an even emptier feeling inside your gut. So you figured you would pay Park Jinyoung a visit at his personal place of residence instead—the same residence him and his brother have resided since 1770.  

Your mind races as you wait, thinking over the long speech you prepared to argue your competence and readiness. You don’t know how long it will take, but you do know that you are not leaving until Jinyoung accepts your help, or at the very least, acknowledges your newfound importance in the situation. 

The killers are your roommate’s friends after all. 

After what seems like minutes, but is probably only a couple seconds, the large, mahogany door swings open. Although, the face that appears in the doorway is not the one you were hoping to see.

A young woman appears behind the door, her babyish features practically exuding the forefronts of her age. She couldn’t be older than twenty, you find, at least, definitely not with a face like that. Her eyes are rather bleary when they meet your own, borderline crimson red. You wonder if she just woke up from a deep sleep after a long night of drinking… 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for Jinyoung?” 

“Jinyoung is not home right now.” The woman’s voice is blank, monotone like your boss whenever he’s giving out a lecture. It deepens your concern. You’ve seen your fair share of hangovers between Jihyo and Sana’s party-animal habits, but never one that renders your body so… zombie-like. 

“Do you know where he went? Or maybe when he’ll be home?” 

The woman doesn’t blink. “No.”

“Okay, um…” You gnaw at your bottom lip, carefully thinking over the next plan of action. Due to the woman’s state, it’s pretty obvious you are not going to be able to get much out of her. Maybe you can try Youngjae’s cell, and eventually badger an answer out of him—

“What’s taking so long? Who’s at the door?” The woman steps aside to reveal a familiar face—one that sends gooseflesh budding across your skin.    

 Jaebeom’s eyes widen in surprise. “You…? What are you doing here…? ” His expression reminds you of your previous encounter outside the town hall, where he confirmed his and his brother’s vampiric nature. Beneath the surprise in his gaze, you can still make out what seems to be apprehension… almost fear. 

“Is Jinyoung here? I need to talk to him.” 

“He’s not here.” Jaebeom crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the doorway. “He went on some field trip with that Tuan kid. I have no clue where they went.” 

“Well… do you at least know when he’ll be back?” 

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you need to see my brother anyway?” 

“I told you. I need to speak with him.” 

“Are you sure he even wants to talk to you?” 

The agitation spreading through your veins grows at Jaebeom’s obvious indifference. You swallow down the frustration before sparing a glance back toward the silent woman. She’s staring in your direction, but her eyes don’t seem to be looking at you. Instead, they seem to be looking through you.  

“Is she… okay?” You ask softly, earning another wave of surprise from the Prime. 

Jaebeom leans down to murmur something into the woman’s ear, before she turns on her heel and disappears back inside the house. It might have only been a trick of your mind, but hidden beneath the collar of her shirt may be a wound—a wound that looks strangely like a bite mark. 

Your stomach violently turns as you’re reminded of the other night. Jaebeom was going to feed on you, possibly kill you… but he didn’t. 

You murmur aloud before you can think, “Why?...” 

“What?” 

“Why did you stop?” Jaebeom’s face pales at your questions, indicating he knows exactly what you’re talking about. His throat visibly gulps before he uncrosses his arms and steadies himself back on his own feet. 

“So you know…”

“Know you almost killed me?... Yeah. Kind of hard to forget something like that.” 

Jaebeom shrugs. “You’d be surprised what people can forget under mind compulsion.”   

“Mind compulsion?” Your eyebrows furrow as your head tilts in curiosity. “Don't tell me vampires can control minds?” 

Jaebeom raises his eyebrows, his surrounding features contorting to a mixture of shock and amazement. His eyes shine, lingering over the planes of your face. As if you activated a switch, a sly smirk pulls across his lips. Perfectly complimenting the dangerous mischief swirling inside his dark brown irises. 

“So you know what I am then…” Jaebeom chuckles. You don’t like the way his eyes seem to deviously flicker in the sunlight. “Your witch boyfriend must have you on vervain. That explains why my compulsion didn’t work.” 

You ignore his mention of Mark. “Vervain? What’s that?” 

“An herb. It’s poisonous to vampires.” He explains so casually. “It dulls our abilities, makes humans immune to compulsion, and burns like a fucking bitch.” 

“How do you stand in the sun? Shouldn’t you erupt into flames or something?” 

Jaebeom’s smirk seems to widen. “You ask a lot of questions, little dove. That can get you in trouble.” 

“You won’t hurt me.”

“And what makes you think that?” In a flash, Jaebeom is standing right in front of you, his hands threateningly cradling the sides of your head. His eyes bleed pure sadism and malice as he speaks, “I could break your sweet, fragile neck right here, and no one would even know…” 

Any other person would be scared to death. But you know better. 

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have in the alley.” You shake your head, reaching up to grab his wrists and tug his hands from your face. Prowess spills into your chest as his gaze grows surprised once again. 

You nod. “Now, since Jinyoung isn’t here and I really don’t want to pay another hundred dollars to haul my ass back to town, you’re gonna help me understand how this whole vampire thing works.” 

“I’m going to… what now?” 

“You heard me.” You step past Jaebeom and enter the mansion, following the same pathway the previous woman took. You’re barely able to hold back a gasp at the regal interior that greets your entrance. Swallowing your awe, you peer over your shoulder at a rather confused Im Jaebeom and hum delicately, “You don’t happen to drink coffee? Do you?” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I finished the boundary spell, Mark-hyung. No one can get step foot into the cemetery without us knowing.” Jinyoung watches Jisung step outside of his ritual circle, crafted from salt and the burning essence of various herbs. From across the way, Mark provides the younger witch a nod of encouragement before turning to face the Choi duo. 

“You stocked up on enough energy, Youngjae?” 

Youngjae disentangles his hand from Lia’s grasp, his skin ceasing the magical glow Jinyoung has seen many times in siphoners long before anyone in this particular coven was born. The witch hums, “Yes, hyung. I should have plenty to last.” 

“Don’t count on it.” Mark shakes his head, tossing another smoldering herb into the center of the salt boundary. “We have no idea what we’re up against. Everyone needs to keep on their toes, and stay together.”

“Have you… fought something like this before?...” It takes a whole moment of silence for Jinyoung to realize Jisung had directed the question at him. Peering at the youngest witch with his usual blank expression, Jinyoung inhales a deep breath, attempting to push away the whiplash of memories that rage through his head. 

Jinyoung answers, “I have faced many hunters and witches… but never as a pair.” 

“So you’ve fought dark witches?...” 

The inquiry surprises Jinyoung, but for what reason—he doesn’t know.   

“It is not the witches who are dark—it is the magic.” He finally sighs after a long period of silence. “Dark magic plagues the mind like a parasite, laying its eggs in the user’s morals and logicalities until it builds into an infestation, and completely takes over the witch’s sanity.”

Jisung’s face visibly pales. “Does it… kill the witch?” 

“In more ways than one.” Jinyoung catches Mark’s eyes. Inside them is an emotion he knows too well—guilt. 

“Don’t worry, Sung.” Lia sidles beside the youngest witch, weaving her fingers with his own to provide a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s gonna be fine… right, Mark?” 

Everyone’s eyes immediately trail to the head witch, and though he doubts anyone else could see, Jinyoung notices the aura of fear and apprehension oozing from Mark’s tense body. He can only imagine how Mark feels—terrified for the lives and wellbeing of the people he calls his family… Jinyoung hasn’t felt that pain in centuries, but it’s impossible to forget. 

Especially when it comes to those you love. 

With eyes of pure, determined fire, Mark nods.

“We do this for Nayeon.” He gathers the witches close, reaching across to take Lia and Jisung’s joint limbs in one hand while the other goes for Youngjae. Something inside Jinyoung’s chest seizes at the heartwarming sight… A memory of both him and Jaebeom suddenly rushes into his thoughts where their hands are tightly clasped between their bodies. Where they stand as brother’s united against the world. 

Where did those times go…? 

“—For Nayeon!” Jinyoung returns just in time to see the group disband from their minimal embrace. Lia and Jisung head back toward the mausoleum, probably to fetch more supplies for the battle just waiting over the horizon, while the remaining two witches approach Jinyoung. Each with a sullen expression along their features. 

Jinyoung clears his throat. “You’re certain they’ll attack tonight?” 

“It’s a new moon. Mina’s power will be it’s strongest.” Mark says, providing Jinyoung a grim frown. “Which is why all of us need to be careful. Like I said, we have no clue what to expect.” 

The corners of Jinyoung’s lips slightly turn. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were actually concerned for me.” 

Mark shakes his head, completely ignoring Jinyoung’s attempt at humor before shifting his focus to Youngjae. “Anything from Minho?” 

“No, hyung. But Jisung left him a message to tell him to stay far away from the cemetery tonight.” 

Mark releases a heavy breath and drags a hand down his face. “That douchebag is gonna get himself killed, goddamn it…” 

“They will be looking for the entire coven, not a lone witch.” Jinyoung assures, feeling the need to expel the head witch’s anxiety. “Minho will be safe. Wherever he is.” 

Mark meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “I hope you’re right.” 

“We should go over the plan of action again.” Abandoning the intensity of Mark’s stare, Jinyoung turns at Youngjae’s offer, discovering the siphoner to already be looking in his direction. 

There’s a subtle waver in Youngjae’s tone as he asks, “You remember what you have to do?” 

Jinyoung nods cooly. “Once you immobilize the witch, I go for the huntress.” 

“And you’re sure you can take her by yourself?” 

“I’ve encountered and destroyed dozens of supernatural hunters over the years.” Jinyoung replies to Youngjae, earning a silent, but visible eye roll from the other witch. He ignores Mark’s annoyance, nodding again at the younger siphoner. “I’m strong enough.” 

Jinyoung only hopes that will be true. 

“Good.” Youngjae turns to Mark. “Once Mina steps foot onto our grounds, the spell will immediately take effect… She’ll be in pain. Immense, torturous pain.” 

Jinyoung notices how Mark’s shoulders shiver at the description. 

He gulps. “This will work. It has to.” 

“It will.” Jinyoung offers again, placing a gentle hand against Mark’s elbow. The latter grows surprised for a moment, before a weak upturn of his lips signifies his gratitude. 

Jinyoung immediately pulls away from Mark as a loud shriek erupts through the graveyard. The first to wake out of the alarmed stupor is Mark, who immediately shifts on his heel and dashes for the entrance of the cemetery, where the noise had previously erupted. Youngjae runs after him, followed closely behind by Jinyoung. 

“Mark-hyung! Wait, don’t—” 

“There’s someone here! Get Lia and Jisung out here!” Jinyoung provides Youngjae a nod, assuring the witch to follow his leader’s demand. The siphoner makes a break for the mausoleum while Jinyoung scales the rest of the distance toward the head witch, who’s standing mere feet from the iron gate that acts as the only access point into Eclipse Cemetery—where a shadowy figure is helplessly squirming on the graveled-earth. 

Jinyoung grabs Mark’s wrist before he can lunge at the figure, frantically shaking his head. “Are you trying to get yourself killed!?” 

“That son of a bitch murdered my friend—” Mark hisses, wrenching his limb away from Jinyoung’s grasp and pushing his body away with a hefty shove. “You don’t want to test the reliability of my self-control right now… so I suggest you back off and do your own damn job!”

“Wait for the others, at least!” Jinyoung urges, “Be smart about this, Mark! Trust me—!” 

“Don’t tell me what to fucking—” 

“Mark-hyung!” Surprise mirrors itself along both Jinyoung and Mark’s features. The head witch quickly leaves Jinyoung to kneel beside the figure hidden beneath the darkness of the moonless night. Jinyoung hurries to Mark’s side, his eyes widening to saucers at the familiar features he can barely make out in the obscurity. 

Mark gapes. “Minho…?” 

“Wh-What is—ha!.. Hap-happening?...” Minho manages to spill through gritted teeth with much struggle. Jinyoung recognizes the writhing and twitching of his limbs, as well as the wild nature of his gaze—Youngjae wasn’t lying about the pain. 

“Shit, Minho—” Mark hurriedly mutters a counter-incantation beneath his breath, pulling the younger witch to lean against his chest. Even with the spell lifted, Minho continues to spasm and moan at the phantom waves that send pain through his form. 

Mark shakes his head. “What in the actual hell are you doing here!?” 

“What… What the fuck are you talking about?” Minho gasps, clutching onto the sleeves of Mark’s shirt as another wave passes through his veins. “You… called me, asshole!” 

“What the fu—? I never called you! Jisung told you to stay home!” 

“I-I… talked to you earlier.” Minho inhales something close to a wheeze before lightly poking Mark’s chest. “You told me to… to come to the ‘maus’ at mid-midnight…”  

Jinyoung feels his blood run cold, but his tone is even colder: 

“They knew it was a trap…” 

Mark’s eyes are wild with desperation and fright as he meets Jinyoung’s gaze. “The others—” A loud, high-pitched wail cuts off Mark’s speech. Neither him nor Jinyoung waste any time and make a mad dash for the mausoleum, Jinyoung’s heart racing in his throat. The first thing he notices is the door of the structure—wide open and practically torn off its hinges. 

“Youngjae! Lia! Jisung!” Mark screams, sprinting inside the mausoleum with no hesitation. Jinyoung pauses in the doorway, watching as the head witch frantically surveys the place, only to find it completely empty save for himself. Tears are glistening in his eyes as he shakes his head, “Where the fuck are they!? Oh my fucking god—”  

“If the boundary spell caught Minho, then they could have gotten in anywhere!” Jinyoung steps aside just in time for Mark to race outside again. “We need to be careful! Especially if they have—!” 

“Mark-hyung!” Youngjae’s call carries through the nightly breeze, brewing even more uncontrolled fear in Jinyoung’s chest. 

“Youngjae!” Jinyoung can barely keep up with Mark’s frantic pace as he tears deeper into the graveyard, skipping over headstones and rounding tall statues with the skill of a professional athlete. He somehow manages to keep up. Just in arms reach of the head witch. 

“Youngjae!? Youngjae!?” Mark sobs, pausing to peer through the continuous hills of graves and monuments for the forgotten. “Jisung!? Lia!? Where are you!?” 

Through the very corner of his eye, Jinyoung notices a speck of movement emerge from behind a nearby tree. Time seems to slow as he focuses closer on that tree, immediately noticing a human-like shadow holding something between stoic hands—holding a loaded crossbow pointed directly at Mark. 

Using every bout of vampiric strength in his possession, Jinyoung sprints toward the head witch just as the bolt leaves the barrel of the crossbow. 

“Mark! Get down!” 

“Jinyoung—!?” 

Jinyoung can hear nothing but screams and the ringing of his own ears as he shields Mark’s body with his own. Somewhere deep inside, as the crossbow bolt pierces his flesh, he can hear something that fills his soul with immense warmth… 

It’s your voice—telling him to go to hell, as he immediately succumbs to a violent wave of darkness. 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“So you’re… a werewolf and a vampire?” Jaebeom watches your eyebrows raise to the heavens over the rim of his glass, swallowing the sweeter-than-sweet liquid before licking the remnants from his lips. He can’t remember the last time he sat down and had a cup of coffee, much less drank something that wasn’t straight from the vein. 

To be honest, he’d much rather be feeding from the blonde woman waiting in his bedroom. But something about being with you is too addicting to pass up… and that scares him. 

You shake your head. “Isn’t that like… ironic? Considering vampires and werewolves are sworn enemies?” 

An amused chuckle spills from his lips as you fumble with your own teacup, barely managing to save its matching saucer before it clatters to the floor. Your annoyed glare pulls more laughter out of him, and it takes a good portion of his self-control not to smile. 

After taking another sip of his coffee, Jaebeom shrugs. “I was born a werewolf, and it carried over when Jinyoung and I became vampires.” 

“How did that happen anyway?” You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs at the ankle with a tilt of your head. “I mean, did you and Jinyoung choose to become…what you are?” 

“Yes and no,” He hums. 

“So you chose to become monsters?” 

“You consider my brother and I monsters…?” 

Jaebeom doesn’t like the serious expression that pulls across your features. “I know you’ve killed a lot of people… and have done some pretty fucked up things.” 

“A millennium is a long time to be alive, little dove.” Your obvious distaste at the nickname fills his chest with comedic pleasure. He smirks, “You get a little bored after a while.” 

“Normal people read books when they’re bored, or find a new hobby.” 

“Killing isn’t a hobby then…?” 

Your response is a look of pure disgust. 

Jaebeom howls in laughter before inhaling the remainder of his coffee in one gulp. He heaves a sigh, peering out the large, stained-glass window. Partly to recollect his thoughts. Partly to allow the obvious tension to dissipate between his and your forms. 

Now inside his own head, Jaebeom wonders whether or not he should have said such a barbaric statement in the first place. If it were anyone else, Jaebeom would care less about protecting his image—but it’s you. And something inside him warns him to be careful around you… Very, very careful. 

“Jinyoung and I were children when we found each other.” Jaebeom sighs, feeling the weight of your surprised gaze on the side of his face. “After my own caregivers abandoned me, he convinced his parents to take me in… It wasn’t until I lived inside their home did I realize how cruel they were.” 

“Cruel…?” 

“Jinyoung was a bastard child.” He explains, “His mother had an affair with a village merchant. After his father found out, he murdered his wife’s lover and made Jinyoung’s life a living hell.” 

Jaebeom rises from his armchair and grabs his empty cup before heading for the liquor tray in front of the same window he was previously staring out. While pouring himself a drink, Jaebeom makes sure to raise his voice so you can still hear: 

“For years, I watched that asshole beat the shit out of Jinyoung while his mother and sisters sat back and didn’t do a goddamn thing.” He downs the brandy in one sweet gulp before selecting a stronger bottle of scotch. Not bothering with his cup, Jaebeom unscrews the cap and takes a long, drawn-out swig from the container. Fire erupts through his belly, sending the beginning of a pleasurable buzz through his veins. 

“One day I got fed up with it all, and when the fucker tried to lash Jinyoung for refusing to shoot a fawn, I took that belt right out of his hands, wrapped it around his neck, and squeezed and squeezed until the light left his eyes…” 

Through the corner of his eye, Jaebeom notices how your body grows tense at his confession. 

He whirls around to meet your gaze, pushing away the pestering emotions without so much as a blink before continuing, “We were banished by his family and the other villagers, but we didn’t care—we had each other, and we needed no one else.

“We encountered a witch one day, as we were walking through the forest.” Jaebeom says after another sip, “She told us she could give us a gift like no other: Eternal life. We only had to take part in a ritual, and death would never come for us.” 

You shake your head. “Why? Why would you want to live forever?” 

“If you were given the chance to be invincible against everything, even time, wouldn’t a small part of you be somewhat interested?” 

He allows you a moment to ponder his question. After maybe a minute or so, you release a silent huff and gesture for him to continue. 

“The witch tricked us though, and in trade for immortality, we were forced to sacrifice our humanity.” 

Your eyes widen. “So you didn’t… choose to become vampires?” 

“No.” Jaebeom sets down his bottle with one hand while carding his fingers through his hair with the other. “Anyway, Jinyoung and I spent decades learning how to manage our newfound abilities, and even longer on how to handle the lifestyle.” 

“If you and Jinyoung were the first—the Prime Two—did you create more vampires?” 

He chuckles with a sigh, “Yes. Though it was by accident how we found out.

“Fledgling vampires branched off from our bloodline are different. They’re not as fast, nor as strong, nor as powerful as us.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I can compel humans and other vampires, but vampires can only compel humans.” 

“Are fledglings immortal too?” 

“To some extent.” Crossing back across the room, Jaebeom lowers into the armchair beside your own. Now close enough to see the curious spark of wonder in your irises. “It is possible for a fledgling to live forever, but unlike Jinyoung and I, fledglings can be killed with a wooden stake through the heart.” 

“Nice to know that much is true.” Jaebeom relishes the borderline amused chuckle that leaves your lips, playing the odd elation off as the effects of the alcohol. “Is it also true that a bite from a vampire turns you into a vampire?” 

He snorts, “Let me guess… Got that from Twilight?

“Just answer the question.” 

“The only way to become a vampire is if you die with vampire blood in your system.” He hums, “After you die, you’ll wake up in transition, and will need to drink human blood to complete the transformation.” 

“And if you choose not to complete it?” 

“Then you die for real.” 

You shift at his answer, finding interest in the chipped edge of your cup. Jaebeom wonders whether he should change the topic of interest, but before he can think up some possible options, you steer the conversation yourself: 

“You never told me why.” 

His eyebrows raise in confusion. “What?” 

“Why you left me in that alleyway.” 

For the first time, Jaebeom feels vulnerable underneath the scrutiny of your eyes. He fidgets uncomfortably, and like you, searches the room for another object to hold his attention. However, whether it’s because of the whiskey, or something else, his gaze returns to and remains rooted on your own. 

What is it about you? The thought spirals through his thoughts like a 2-seater plane with broken wings. Maybe he should have listened to Jinyoung, and stayed away from you in the first place. Because whatever game you’re playing, whatever spell you have him under… it’s messing with his head.  

And he doesn’t like to be fucked around with. 

Finally, after what seems like hours, Jaebeom shakes his head. “I don’t kn—” 

A sudden crash emerges from the foyer, effectively interrupting his explanation. Jaebeom leaps from his seat and speeds in front of where you’re sitting, shielding your form from the entryway where the noise sounded. His protective stance vanishes, however, at the figure that appears in the doorway. 

Jaebeom tsks. “Oh. Look who finally decided to show up.” 

“Jinyoung…?” Jaebeom steps aside to allow you to step forward, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He moves to fetch himself another drink when your exclaim stops him, “Holy shit! What the hell happened to you!?” 

Upon taking care to really look at his brother, Jaebeom understands the reason for your concern. Jinyoung’s usual clean-cut and formal appearance is nonexistent. From head to toe, he’s covered in dirt, and his dark hair is far past disheveled. His clothes are badly torn and wrinkled, and practically soaked in fresh blood. Jaebeom quickly realizes the blood does belong to Jinyoung, noticing the large, thick bolt protruding from his chest. 

Jinyoung winces, “It’s a long story… but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit down first.” 

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

The gleam of the awakening sun rising over the horizon sears Yugyeom’s eyes, but he keeps his gaze fixated on the entryway of the cemetery. No matter how much the newfound sunlight burns his eyes, he continues to watch the shadows of the night disperse in fear of the approaching morning. He knows pain all too well. 

“Gyeom?” 

Yugyeom greets Chan silently, with a curt nod. His stare remains frozen on the gate. 

Chan sidles up beside him until they are shoulder to shoulder. His own gaze glances at Yugyeom’s point of interest for a moment before he turns to look at his companion in the early morning glow. Through his peripheral vision, Yugyeom can spot Chan’s grim expression. 

 “How’s the coven?” Yugyeom asks after a long bout of silence.

Chan shrugs, “Minho, Jisung and Lia were all sleeping when I left. And Youngjae, he’s…” When his voice trails off, Yugyeom doesn’t urge Chan to finish his sentence. He knows exactly how Youngjae is right now. 

Terrified. 

“What should we do with the body?” 

Yugyeom barely blinks. “Probably best to burn it. Can’t leave anything up to chance.” 

Chan hums in agreement, seemingly ready to return to the mausoleum, but to Yugyeom’s surprise, Chan remains in place. Another long, tense round of silence carries between them, filling Yugyeom’s head with even more heart wrenching memories. After another mind-spiralling hurricane or two, Chan breaks the silence again:

“We made the right decision. If we got here any later, that huntress would have killed everyone.”  

Yugyeom shakes his head, “The huntress was working with a witch, and we only found the one… We should have gotten here sooner.” 

“Youngjae thinks the huntress was working alone tonight.” Chan says, lifting his palm to shield his eyes from the blinding sunrise. “There were no traces of unfamiliar magic… nor did we catch anyone else’s scent in the cemetery.” 

“Then where is the witch?” Yugyeom moves his attention away from the graveyard entrance, and with aching eyes, turns to meet his Alpha’s downcast gaze, “And more importantly, where the hell is Mark-hyung…?”  

 ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

You hold back a wince as Jaebeom literally tears the bolt from Jinyoung’s chest, earning a pained grunt from said victim. Dark blood splatters from the now open wound, painting across Jaebeom’s skin and adding even more stains to Jinyoung’s unsalvageable shirt. Disgust fills your gut as Jaebeom offers Jinyoung what seems to be a glass of blood—probably from that blonde woman you encountered at the door. 

Jinyoung shakes his head and pushes the drink away. “No. I’m alright.” 

“You would have healed by now if you were.” Jaebeom tries again, “Just take a sip.” 

“No.” 

“Suit yourself.” Your eyes widen in both surprise and revulsion, watching Jaebeom knock back the glass and down the blood in one large gulp. Fighting back a wave of nausea, you carefully approach the wounded vampire, holding forth a clean towel. 

Jinyoung takes the garment and sends a grateful smile in return. “Thank you, (Y/N).” 

You nod, “Sure.” 

Jinyoung presses the bunched fabric to his gaping wound, hissing through gritted teeth at the sudden pressure. You wonder whether or not you should grab the emergency Tylenol from your bag… Does pain medication even work on vampires? Aren’t they technically dead?

“We were ambushed at the cemetery.” Jinyoung explains, pulling you from your foolish thoughts. “After the huntress shot me, I must have hit my head and knocked myself out.”

“Sounds like a pretty unfortunate story.” 

Jinyoung chuckles at your joke before continuing, “When I came to, the wolf pack had killed her and Mark was gone.” 

Panic immediately spreads through your veins like flames to dry wood. “Mark? What do you mean he’s gone?” 

“I’m not sure. We searched the entire graveyard, but there was no sign of him.” 

You open your mouth to inquire further, but Jaebeom’s loud exhale cuts you off. Both you and Jinyoung turn to peer at the hybrid, finding him staring out the large window while drumming his fingertips against the red- and blue-stained glass. After a quiet moment filled with the rhythm of his fingers and Jinyoung’s marred breathing, Jaebeom peers over his shoulder—his eyes glaring daggers straight at his brother. 

Jinyoung shakes his head. “Hyung—” 

“I told you not to get involved with Tuan.” The dark, bitter tone that leaves Jaebeom’s lips sends a harsh shiver down your spine, more so since the comment included mention of your best friend.

“And I told you I’m taking care of it.” 

“Can you not just do what you’re fucking told just once? Just one goddamn time—?” 

To both your and Jaebeom’s surprise, Jinyoung suddenly leans forward in his seat and retches violently. You rush forward, splaying your hands across his back while asking about his condition. Your response is another retching noise, and in just the nick of time, you manage to step out of the way before Jinyoung vomits red across the carpet. 

“Fucking god, Jinyoung! What the hell is wrong with him!?” You call out to Jaebeom, squeezing Jinyoung’s shoulders as he heaves again. After another gag or two, you help Jinyoung to lean back into the armchair, wiping the bloody remnants from his lip with a towelette. Your knuckles brush the arch of his cheekbone—his skin is hot to the touch. 

“He’s burning up! What do we do!?” 

“It’s… werewolf venom.” Jinyoung gasps, weakly pulling your wrist away from his face.  

You shake your head, “W-Werewolf venom?” 

“A werewolf’s bite is deadly to vampires.” Jaebeom explains, barely batting an eyelash as Jinyoung lurches forward with another gag. 

“But he wasn’t bitten? How the hell—?” 

“The crossbow bolts must have been poisoned.” Your anxiety skyrockets, worriedly staring as Jinyoung begins to choke on his own blood. Jaebeom glances outside the window again, murmuring, “He won’t die… The effects will pass in a day or so.” 

“But can’t you heal him!?” You jump to your feet, narrowly avoiding a puddle of dark blood before dashing over to Jaebeom. Your fingers desperately latch onto the lapels of his leather jackets, tugging him down to meet your eyes. “You’re a hybrid, so your blood should technically flush the venom out of his system? Right?” 

Jaebeom’s lips twitch. “You’re smart, little dove. I’ll give you that.” 

“So you’ll heal him?” 

You wait in utter agony as the hybrid considers your request, staring blankly at the features of your face. You can only imagine how much you resemble a crazed, mad woman, but you can care less. Right now, your sole focus is on Jinyoung and ending whatever horrible fate awaits. Jaebeom wouldn’t let his best friend—the man he calls his brother—suffer in absolute anguish… 

Not when he killed Jinyoung’s own father to protect him. 

After a miserable moment of silence, Jaebeom releases a heavy exhale through his nose before meeting your gaze. The bubble of hope expands inside your chest when the hybrid offers a weak smile, lifting a hand to brush a stray hair from your forehead. You shiver as that same hand lightly grasps your chin, guiding your face closer until you can taste the alcohol on Jaebeom’s breath. 

All in a matter of seconds, that bubble of hope pops at Jaebeom’s curt answer: 

“No.” 

You watch in horror as Jaebeom releases your chin, turns on his heel, and leaves you by your lonesome with a wounded Jinyoung, and even more wounded soul.

[immortalcoelacanth]

HLVRAI Oneshot: Blankets and Burritos

I am weak, I crave gay fluff and family fluff...

Word count: 3428

Summary: Sometimes, Benrey has nightmares. It's a good thing Joshua has a plan to help out!

Gordon had long since accepted that Benrey was a naturally disruptive being. Between how absolutely chaotic he could be at times to his naturally blunt and occasionally abrasive attitude, the second he had moved in Gordon knew that his home would never be peaceful again. 

Granted, he had been surprised when Benrey began showing restraint when interacting with people, especially Joshua as the last thing he wanted was to upset the young boy. His jokes also lacked the more intimidating edge they held while they were in Black Mesa. Overall, his more destructive qualities had been toned down and he seemed to be far more at peace than the last time Gordon had seen the ex-guard. 

It was… nice, and while he had been hesitant at first to welcome Benrey into his home, he did not find himself regretting that decision. 

This did not mean that things were perfectly fine, of course. 

Benrey was… not the best at acting human, and it showed. There had already been several instances of Gordon getting up for a midnight snack and seeing at least two glowing eyes staring down at him from the ceiling. 

Absolutely horrifying. 

Plus, he had been forced to give Benrey a crash course on how humans acted and that no, he could not try and swallow the milk carton whole and please don’t walk up the side of a building and lean into a window to ask someone to play Smash Bros with you. 

Y’know, pretty simple things. Things that honestly would have made Gordon’s life a living hell if it was not for how accepting and understanding his neighbors were. 

Marguerite, a lovely, partially deaf old lady, had been especially happy to learn that Benrey had moved in with him, although Gordon was pretty sure that this was simply because she thought they were dating. She had been a huge source of help after his divorce, especially during some rather rough days. 

She had constantly pushed him to find something, or someone, that he could be happy with. Whether that was a hobby or a partner. 

He would never forget how scandalized he had felt when she first visited and saw Benrey. How she had looked the ex-guard up and down before turning to Gordon and winking at him. Her words forever burned into his mind. 

“This one will keep you busy, hands and mind.”

It had been one of the few times he had heard Benrey genuinely laugh, too. A loud, somewhat wheezing noise that made him curl up in a ball as he tried to control his laughter. It sounded nice and was something he wanted to hear more often.

And then... there were the nightmares. 

Moments where Benny's joy was smothered by something else, something he never expressed a desire to discuss. Gordon honestly had no clue what their source might be, whether caused some traumatic moment in Benrey’s past, or even the final fight between them, but whatever it was it could get bad.

Fortunately, these instances of nightmares were fairly quiet with Joshua never having woken up during them. Less fortunately, Gordon tended to be the one being startled awake since the ex-guard often slipped into his bed after he went to sleep, not that he cared all that much. In the beginning it had been a bit annoying to wake up and find Benrey downright spooning him, getting all into his personal space, and it had been a source of combat for several days until he and Benrey managed to sort things out. 

… Not that there was much of a conversation or anything like that. It was more so him listening to Benrey quietly insisting that he “needed someone”, and the gamer body pillow he purchased after that conversation had not helped in this regard. 

He loathed to think about it now, the wide eyes and flirtatious pose. Every so often it would move locations, going from being stuffed away in a closet to ominously being attached to the back of a door, and he was fairly certain Benrey was the one responsible for such a thing. 

Especially since Joshua claimed to have never seen it before, and he knew for a fact that the ex-guard was diligent in preventing Joshua from being exposed to more… mature jokes. 

Anyways, with Benrey continuing to seek out Gordon as a cuddle buddy and Gordon accepting his fate, and enjoying it, a solution to the nightmare problem still needed to be found. Aside from the growling, hissing, thrashing, and mutterings in some other language, Gordon had also nearly been crushed at one point after Benrey had, without warning, grown larger at some point during the night. 

He was thankful that the bed had not broken due to the sudden increase in weight. 

Currently, the physicist was seated in the living room, trying to put together some sort of solution that might help Benrey. Notepad in hand as he absent-mindedly chewed at the end of his pencil, thankfully lacking an eraser, he wrote down all the methods he had tried so far and what he might try next. 

Lists had always helped him keep his thoughts organized, and this was especially helpful given the mild chaos going on beside him. 

Otherwise known as Joshua and Benrey playing a racing game. 

Naturally, Joshua was currently speeding ahead of the ex-guard, throwing the occasional item back in an attempt to increase the distance between them. Unfortunately, with some quick maneuvers and calculated tricks, Benrey was able to dodge the attacks. 

“vroom, vroom, better watch out.”

“Nooooo!” 

“beep, beep!” 

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

“you... you gotta go fast little dude, it’s the only way.”

“I am!” 

“gotta go faster.” 

“Faster?”

“faster, faster!” 

Gordon chuckled to himself as he listened to the pair break out in song, reciting the lyrics to some cartoon that they both watched. Saturday mornings were Benrey and Joshua’s designated bonding time as Benrey “educated josh bro on some pro gamer cartoons.”

As the race reached its conclusion, Joshua winning overall, the young boy carefully placed his controller down and then scrambled over to his father. He flung himself onto the sofa and leaned against Gordon’s side. Wide, eager eyes took in the notes. 

“Is this some work stuff?” Joshua asked, his eyes lighting up upon seeing the mention of blankets and pillows. “Are you guys gonna have a sleepover?! I can show you how to make an awesome pillow fort!”

“naaaaah,” Benrey casually slid into the conversation, both literally and figuratively. He perched on the armrest of the sofa, a smug grin on his face as he poked at the notepad. “he-he’s just writing ‘bout his crush.”

“Ooooh, so he’s writing about you?” 

“ya.” 

Gordon snorted and lightly thwacked one of Benrey’s fingers with the pencil, causing the ex-guard to let out a yelp before nursing the wounded digit. The exaggerated pout on his face made the physicist chuckle. 

“C’mon, don’t tell me that hurt you-”

“You gotta kiss it better, dad!” Joshua interrupted, placing his hands on Gordon’s leg and pushing himself up into his father’s face, eyes wide and pleading. “Like you did when I hurt my arm! Kisses make everything better!”

“yeah, feeman you-you gotta give me a biiiiiig old smoocher.” The smug grin had returned to Benrey’s face, and it grew wider at the exasperated look Gordon sent towards him. “it’s... it’s a joshie law, feetman, you gotta.”

After rolling his eyes, Gordon ultimately relented. He leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against Benrey’s wounded finger. Despite how smug he had been about the entire situation, there was no denying the heat that took over his face. 

Was Benrey flustered? Yes, but he would never admit to it!

“u-uh…. nice smooch there, feetman. g-gotta give it a perfect score.”

Joshua giggled at the look on Benrey’s face, from the happy smile to the warm glow in his eyes, it was good to see the ex-guard so happy. When Benrey was happy, his dad was happy, and that made him happy! It was perfect!

However, speaking of his dad…

“So, what’s those notes for, then?” He asked, poking at the notes once again. “Benrey’s definitely wrong-”

“owie, ouch, your-your words hurt my bones, little joshie dude.”

The young boy stuck his tongue out at Benrey before he focused on his father and continued speaking. “Is it for work stuff? Or something else?”

It was impossible to miss the look the two adults exchanged upon hearing Joshua’s question, and it made him suspicious. Was this some adult thing he was not supposed to know? Oh, like that thing his classmate Danielle had mentioned-

“Erm, Benrey has been having some trouble sleeping at night and I’m trying to figure out how to help him.” Gordon explained, snapping Joshua out of his thoughts. “These are just some of the ideas I had that might help him relax.”

Joshua blinked, understanding what his father was saying but also wanting confirmation from Benrey. “So, you have nightmares and stuff?”

“uh... yeah.” The ex-guard shrugged as his hands twitched and knit themselves together, an expression of the general anxiety he felt towards the situation. Talking about himself, something he was always uncomfortable with despite the problems it caused. “like... i got some rank e dreams, little bro. i... i keep getting t-posed on and… stuff.”

“Oh!” Joshua lightly clapped his hands together, an idea immediately coming to mind on what he could do to help. “Stay right here, I’ll be back!”

As the young boy rushed to his room, Gordon and Benrey exchanged a confused look. 

“you... you, uh, know what joshie’s doing?”

“Nope, no idea.” Gordon shrugged before sending a smile Benrey’s way. “It’s nice to see him helping us out with this.”

Benrey looked down towards the ground, casting more of his face and the associated blush in shadows. “yeah. h-he’s a good kiddo, feetman.” 

“Damn right he is.”

Not long after this short conversation reached its conclusion, the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard and Joshua rushed back into the room with something rather large and bulky held in his arms, the ends of it dragging across the ground. 

It was his blanket, his weighted blanket to be specific. 

From a young age, Joshua had suffered through many bouts of nightmares and periods where he struggled to feel comfortable when going to sleep. This ultimately culminated in both his parents, who had been separated at this point, agreeing to take him to a sleep therapist and figure out what they could do to help. One of the methods they had been recommended to try was getting Joshua to use a weighted blanket to help him feel more secure and relaxed. 

While not solving all of his problems, he still occasionally visited the same therapist when dealing with a particularly bad bout of nightmares, the blanket, and the other coping methods he had been taught, had certainly helped. 

But the blanket continued to remain his primary source of comfort and seeing Joshua rush over to Benrey and hold the blanket out for the ex-guard to take made Gordon’s heart feel like mush. 

It was such a wholesome sight, and even if Benrey did not know the details behind why Joshua had this blanket, he was honored to see that Joshua wanted to use something of his to try and help. 

“awwww, little dude, you didn’t have to get this for me.” Benrey said, voice strangely soft and quiet. “you-you really didn’t need to.”

Joshua swiftly shook his head and once again thrust the blanket towards him. “This helped me a bunch, and now I want it to help you! Try it!” 

After sending an uncertain glance Gordon’s way, and being met with a reassuring thumbs up, he reached out and carefully took the blanket. He studied it for a moment, unaware of Joshua rocking back and forth in front of him and rubbed the material between his fingers. 

It felt… nice. Soft, but not too soft. 

The blanket was quickly wrapped around Benrey, and the ex-guard closed his eyes for a moment as he took in the sensation. It felt… comfortable. The added pressure of the blanket as it was draped across his shoulders did help him feel a bit more relaxed, reminding him of that.

That which he would never speak of. Old memories and forgotten places, a history that he never wanted to come to light, a name before Benrey. 

He quite liked the name Benrey, anyways. 

“Oh, oh dad!” Joshua suddenly shouted as he turned to look at his father, eyes shining with excitement. “How about you make a Benrrito!”

“... a wha?”

“Y’know!” Joshua spun to face Benrey as he made a rolling motion with his hands. “Burritoing! Dad does it to me a bunch!” 

Upon seeing the somewhat panicked look on Benrey’s face, Gordon quickly stepped in. He stood up, the action helping to calm the other two down, and gestured towards the floor. 

“If you wanna try it, we’re gonna need space.”

“you... you coming on to me, feetman?”

“NO, I AM NOT!”

Joshua giggled at the banter, not quite getting it but happy to see that his father had managed to get Benrey to relax a bit. He watched as the blanket was spread on the ground, patted out so there were no wrinkles before Benrey laid down on top of it. 

… Actually, Benrey looked a bit smaller than he normally did! Joshua knew most people would find such a thing strange, but he had long since gotten used to the occasional shape shifting that the ex-guard tended to do. 

Be it helping him reach food that was too high on the shelves or giving him piggyback rides, Joshua instinctively associated Benrey’s shape shifting with fun, unlike his father. 

Perhaps it was quite fortunate that Gordon was unaware of the shenanigans that these two sometimes got into. 

Regardless, as soon as Benrey was set up and ready to go, Gordon got to work. He flipped the edge of the blanket, so it was covering Benrey, and slowly started to roll the other man up. As he was turned over and over, the ex-guard’s smile began to grow larger and larger. 

Oh yes, he could just feel the potential chaotic energy. 

Once the burritoing process was complete, Gordon stepped back to admire his handiwork. At this point, only Benrey’s head and feet were sticking out of the burrito, and the constant glowing of his eyes seemed a bit duller than usual. A stream of pink to red sweet voice floated into the air. 

Joshua giggled and immediately started playing with the bubbles while Gordon lifted a brow and crossed his arms. “What’s that mean?”

“bbbbbbbb,” The string of noises made Gordon smile as he patiently waited for Benrey’s response.

“pink’n red means… i’m gonna bed.” Benrey yawned. Okay, chaotic energy replaced by exhaustion, which was… strange to say the least. 

And clearly Gordon agreed with that thought as his brow lifted higher in surprise. “Really? A burrito did you in?”

“ya.” Benrey bluntly replied as he wiggled around a bit, smushing his face into the blanket. “s’nice, cozy… me likey.”

“Operation Benrrito is a success!” Joshua cheered, high-fiving his father in victory. He then let out a sudden gasp and started bouncing in excitement.

“Dad, this means we gotta help him get a blanket! Can we go shopping tomorrow? Please? Pretty please? I can show Benrey all the super cool patterns they have, and the special stuffed animals too!”

Gordon spared a glance at the absolutely blissed out Benrey, who was currently radiating the energies of a content cat going for a nap, before smiling at his son and nodding. “Looks like we’re going to need to.”

“Yay!” Joshua exclaimed and crouched down in front of the ex-guard. “There’s a whole buncha space patterns and stuff like that one! There’s also ones that’re swirls of colours and they look super cool!”

“bbbbbbbbbb.” Benrey grinned, sharp teeth glinting in the light. “Alright then, little dude. let’s... let’s goooooooooo.”

And with that, Benrey slowly started inching towards the door as Gordon and Joshua watched on. The young boy took a step forward, thoroughly intending to join him before his dad placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back. 

“No way we’re going out now.” He frowned. “It’s busy, and-”

“the karens are out?” Benrey cheekily added. 

“... Yeah, the last thing I want to deal with.” Gordon sighed, placing his face in his hands as he recalled the various interesting encounters he had at that specific mall. It was located in the more affluent section of the neighborhood, and the customers tended to reflect that. 

Ugh, with his luck he would probably end up running into her there-

“Joshie, I know you’re excited, so we’ll go tomorrow as soon as the store opens.” He exhaled as he lifted his face out of his hands and opened his eyes. To his surprise, Joshua did not seem disappointed in the slightest despite how enthusiastic he had been earlier. 

Granted, it definitely helped that Joshua had been the one to suggest going shopping tomorrow. It was not unusual for his father to forget minor details after experiencing some stress and recalling those lovely interactions has certainly been stressful. 

But the young boy felt there was no point in mentioning it, so he didn’t. 

“It’s okay, dad!” Joshua chirped. “But you should probably stop Benrey from escaping.”

“Wha?!” Gordon whirled around and noticed that Benrey had continued to inch towards the door and was now pressed up against it. Probably trying to clip through it since his arms were stuck at his sides. 

The physicist sighed once more, this time in annoyance, before striding over to the door and looking down at Benrey. “What’re you doing?”

“uhhhhhhhh.... y-yo mama.”

“I...there’s no words to describe how disappointed I feel, and you can’t go out like that anyways.”

“i’mma worm off the string, man. look at me gooooooo.”

“You’re not a worm! You’re a burrito!” Joshua chimed in, leaning around his father and smiling at Benrey. 

“noooooo, m-my evil plot… has been foiled.” Benrey dramatically, and somewhat lazily, wailed. He started rolling over to emphasize his apparent defeat. “i’m worming, woooooorming.”

At this point, Joshua had broken down into a fit of laughter and even Gordon had a small smile on his face. Deciding to play along with Benrey’s shenanigans, the physicist made his move. 

Now, it goes without saying that Gordon was not a weak man. Even without the added benefits of the HEV suit, he was no stranger to some forms of exercise. 

Primarily lifting Joshua up into the air as his son loved to feel like he was flying. 

In other words, without warning Gordon crouched down and scooped Benrey, in all his burrito’d glory, up. Rather than being slung over his shoulder, as the ex-guard was still heavier than Joshua and the last thing Gordon wanted was to potentially hurt his shoulder or back, he opted for an easier carry. 

Bridal style. 

Of course, he had not completely thought his plan through, so when he suddenly found Benrey’s face very close to his, his response was immediately and instinctive. 

He blushed, badly. 

Upon seeing this blush, and realizing his sudden proximity to Gordon’s face, Benrey smirked and made a move of his own. 

By leaning forward and quickly kissing the tip of Gordon’s nose. 

Needless to say, at this point both men were blushing. 

Joshua could be heard happily clapping his hands together in the background, and it was this noise that snapped Gordon out of his stunned state. He, somewhat awkwardly, shuffled over to the sofa and plopped Benrey down on it. The, still blushing, ex-guard did nothing except try to sink into the blanket burrito further. 

It was obvious he had no intention of being unburrito’d, for now. 

Gordon sighed and looked over at Joshua. “You okay with using your other blanket tonight?”

“The cowboy one?”

“Yeah.”

“Mhm!” The young boy quickly nodded. “Can you wash it first, please? I don’t want it to be smelly and gross.”

“You got it.” Gordon replied with a thumbs up. As he left to go and fix up Joshua’s other blanket, Joshua could be seen joining Benrey on the sofa and huddling beside him, quietly discussing the different kinds of blankets he had seen and how comfy some of them were. It was quite an adorable sight, and one that held potential. 

The potential for Gordon to make two burritos today, that is. 

                                        xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was actually kind of a struggle to finish this oneshot off, it kept getting longer and longer and my muse keeps spitting more ideas at me XD

Also, 10 bonus points to whoever gets the cartoon reference I added in!

I hope you all enjoyed reading!

- ImmortalCoelacanth

[brent-sunborn]

Shadow Savior

(( Follows The Attempt / Co-written with @kidcatgemini​ ))

“This how y’ thought y’d be fucked t’night, lass?”

Syrielle had no time to react. Hardly any time to blink! She moved to bring her hands up to try and block the blow, but one of them was held down. The other came up much to slow, as Alteris brought the jagged piece of glass down. She screamed!

But rather than the sharp pain she anticipated, she felt Alteris pull away from her entirely! She sat up quickly, and saw why. Another elf had come up behind Alteris and pulled him back off of her! The two grappled a moment, before Alteris was thrown - behind the counter, into a large cabinet of fine porcelain dinnerware. Plates, bowls, teacups and shelves all shattered, coming crashing down atop the would-be assassin! 

Syrielle gasped, and looked to the other elf. Gattius? No. Another Void Elf. Dark leathers, long hair… familiar blacksteel daggers and a plated face mask…

Alteris brought his legs back up beneath him quickly, seeming stunned! He narrowed his gaze at the other ren’dorei, seeming just as shocked as Syrielle to see him here! It didn’t last long. The elf lunged for Alteris, slamming him back into the shattered cabinet with one hand, and stabbing him without a moment’s hesitation with the other. Alteris let out half a gasp, unable to breathe for the moment… before his body disappeared in a plume of shadow. The other elf grunted, gripping his side with his free hand as Alteris vacated it. He braced, tensing as if he had expected the random jolt of pain to shoot through him as Alteris’ body vanished from sight. It was over… Alteris was gone. And the other elf turned his narrowed gaze to Syrielle. 

The Cryomancer was frozen with fear, recognizing Brent Sunborn as he turned his deadly gaze towards her. This was the first she’d seen him in his ren’dorei form, much more threatening than his Sin’dorei one had been. Last time she’d seen him, he’d abducted and delivered her into Tharinel’s hands; an event that left her well traumatized. 

Panic set in and her mind went blank. Pupils dilated and her pulse increased as adrenaline flooded her system. She wasn’t even thinking about Alteris or what had happened to him. All she could concentrate on was getting away. She scrambled off the counter, but let out a pained cry. Her bare feet landed in the mess of whiskey and shards of glass now covering the floor thanks to Alteris’ improvised murder weapon. Pain shot up her legs as the shards implanted deeply. Worse yet, she slipped as she tried to move forward, landing hard on her hip.

Tear filled eyes looked up as the threatening figure brought a knee down in front of her. She couldn’t find her voice to scream or cast a spell, so frozen by fear she was at the sight of him. 

“Relax.” he said, tone curt - irritated. “I’m not here for you.”

His ebon-steel dagger slipped silently back into its sheath at his hip, reinforcing his claim. With a bit of a light scoff, Brent took hold of Syrielle’s foot and began to pluck shards of glass from it. His gaze parted from hers, instead intent on the task at hand. He would’ve preferred not having to deal with her at all; collateral was always so messy. But at the same time, he couldn’t let Alteris kill her. Despite having delivered her into such dangers before… things had changed. 

Nepen’thea had still cared for this one, after all.

So instead of silencing another witness, the Ghostblade set to helping her out. At least, enough so she wouldn’t bleed out all over the floor in her pathetic panicked state. The larger chunks were removed easily enough, and the smaller ones hadn’t set in too deep. He ripped at the hem of her nightie to retrieve a length suitable enough for a bandage - so paralyzed in fear, she did little to oppose him. Fear… or perhaps confusion, at this point. He didn’t seem concerned either way.

“He’s not dead yet.” he informed her - because revealing that the elf who had just tried to kill her was still out there seemed like a smart thing to say to the fear-struck cryromancer. “But he’s far from here. Trapped. He’ll be dead soon enough.”

The makeshift bandaged tied tight and snug at her foot, before Brent stood. Halfway. He still hovered over Syrielle, offering her a hand up from the floor. Brow still knit in agitation, he waved a few fingers quickly at her, beckoning her to make haste.

“Get up.”

By now, Syrielle seemed to have regained some basic functions. She blinked up at him in confusion. What was he doing here? Why had he saved her? Why would he care to help her at all? Was this a trick?

Still, her hand took his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. She winced as she put pressure on her damaged feet, but the makeshift bandages made it at least possible for her to stand upright.

“Wh-what’s going on?” She finally managed to find her voice, small as it was, “Why are you helping me?”

“--I’m not helping you.” he snapped back, almost defensively.

He eyed the Cryromancer, gaze lingering as he turned. She seemed okay… now, at least she wasn’t sniveling and flopping about. He sighed slowly as he stepped away from her; it was the least threatening thing he could think to do, at this point. Instead, Brent looked over the shattered porcelain and shelves that broke during the brief altercation. He gotten Alteris out of hiding, now he only had to get back and finish the job.

“... Not intentionally, anyway.” he elaborated. “Came to kill Alteris. He just… happened to try to kill you, too. Almost let him, honestly.”

He shrugged, glancing back to Syrielle.

“But Thea liked you for some reason.”

Alteris had mentioned pissing some people off when he’d requested to lay low. Obviously, he’d lied about not being traced back to the Starfrost manor. He’d also conveniently forgot to mention that Brent Sunborn was one of the people hunting him. Syrielle’s hands balled into fists as she realized the dangers Alteris had purposely put them in. Gattius has trusted him, so Syrielle had trusted him as well.

And once again, trust nearly got her killed.

Her ears flicked, and perked up as a Brent made mention of Nepen’thea. The Cryomancer had wondered for some time if she’d survived the Void explosion as well. Now she knew that she had.

—but then, why was Sunborn speaking of her in past tense? Her ears lowered at the implications.

“...liked?” She repeated, hoping she was reading that wrong.

Brent was quiet for a moment - but the silence spoke volumes to confirm it. He looked once more to the cabinet, where his quarry was last seen. Subtly, he tilted his chin up in that direction, as if to motion to it. To point it out.

"Her killer." he practically whispered, though pain and anger both rang through loudly in his words. "She'll be avenged."

Syrielle’s ears wilted and she leaned back against the counter. She closed her eyes and lowered her head. Nepen’thea had been an enemy of the Phoenix Guard… a cultist playing with ancient dark forces. Surely, her death was a good thing for Azeroth, but Syrielle only felt sorrow at her passing. She remembered the beautiful, friendly elf that helped her get her bearings when she’d first arrived in Dalaran. Her best friend and lover. What had happened for her to turn onto such a dark path? Could Syrielle have somehow done something to stop it had she noticed her friend slipping away? Had she been too wrapped up in her studies to notice the signs?

And Alteris… anger flared. She’d allowed him into her relationship, into her home. And he repaid her by attempting to end her life. The selfish fool clearly didn’t care for anyone except himself.

She took in a deep breath, swallowing down the lump in her throat as she looked up at Brent. She gave him a nod. She had no doubt that he could get the job done.

“Thank you.”

“Hmph. I’m not doing this for you.” Brent replied, coldly. “I’m just running down Thea’s killer. Don’t get it twisted.”

The Ghostblade exhaled sharply out of his nose, a scoff stifled by his metallic mask. He really would’ve preferred not to have to interact with anyone at all during all this. But if it had to be someone… someone Nepen’thea valued was probably the best he’d get. He shook his head, before looking to Syrielle once again.

“Don’t forget about her. I know what you meant to her. Even after Suncrown Village…” he trailed off, letting the pause linger for a moment. “She never bore you ill intent. Your friends, sure, but not you. And… she had nothing to do with when I…”

Another pause - he knew she remembered that well enough. It was true, though; Nepen’thea had nothing to do with the deal Brent had made with Tharinel. He wanted to make sure Syrielle knew that. It was a sobering realization that, of any other living being on Azeroth, this weepy, dorky, Cryromancer was probably the only other person Nepen’thea truly loved.

“... Just don’t forget her. Because once we start forgetting her… that’s when she’s gone for good.”

He fidgeted, uncomfortable with the vulnerability that hung over him. But it had to be said.

“I know I, of all people, don’t have a right to ask anything of you. But if you really wanna thank me for this…”

He nodded once. More than enough words had been spoken. Far more than he’d planned to say to anyone at all tonight. 

“I could never forget her,” Syrielle shook her head, “Never.”

She brought a hand up to wipe at the tears. She couldn’t quite hold them back. Knowing Nepen’thea was truly gone now. Knowing she had nothing to do with Syrielle’s capture and torture. Answers to questions that had kept her awake over the past year and a half. There was closure now. Relief.

Now, she could truly mourn the loss.

“Stab him a few extra times for me, yeah?”

It seemed like a good place to end the conversation. With a final nod, Brent stepped into the shadows… and out of sight.

(( @nepenthea​ for mention ))

~*~

[thedarklightwithinus]

Ghost of the Past

A/N; So this is a little series that I've been working on for the last few days which is why there has been no posts. I’m really excited for it as it’s going to be something I've never done before! This is a Billy Russo x Reader fic. I know he’s not in this chapter but he’ll be coming shortly! 

Pairing; Billy Russo x Reader

Words; 1.4k

During each one, she wore the exact same shoes. She gazed down at them with a look that represented hatred. The grubby, once white laces trail on the ground behind her as she walked the same narrow walkway she had been walking for a year. With each step, she watched the lace flop in its random pattern, random and predictable at the same time. She altered each footfall just a little to watch the effect. She'd do anything to not think about where she was heading, where she would be when there were no more steps to take.

Behind her are soft prints in the dust, slight movements of grit and stone that proved she was really there on that path... However, she knew the truth. If she was to look back, she'd indeed find the imprints of her slow steps. Only, they'd be much too small for the adult she now was. She knew because she had walked the path every night when she closed her eyes.

Always the same, never changing and every time just as traumatizing as the last... And then it happened. She came to an abrupt stop when the same noise that haunted her during the day had taken on its full duty in her dream. He was coming up the passageway towards her. His large, heavily weighted body leaving barely and room for the walls to close. She sunk back into the shadows as she had done when she was eight. His grinning smile left nothing to the imagination as she noticed his black and yellow teeth.

When she first started having the dreams, she had been uncertain as to if they were actually real or not. The way he moved so fearlessly sent panic through every fibre of her being. However, he never did anything. Never said anything. He merely stood, watching her with his eyes that resembled that of glass.

Remembering the dream and having to live through it night after night, she knew it was almost over. He'd stand, towering over her with that grin on his face before everything would turn to white smoke, and she'd abruptly awaken to find it difficult to breath. However, as the two of them stood there, predator and prey, she noticed that the white smoke was far from appearing.

What had once been the same dream, over and over again was taking a different turn of events. Her eyes widened as she saw his mouth open. Never before had she managed to stay around long enough to hear the words fall from his mouth. The smoke had always taken her before he had time to let his venom drip.

“The letter, princess.” He spoke, his grin still plastered across his wrinkly face. “You have never cast it a second thought. You walk among the same room as the words I write and still, you do not think to open it. You do not wish to know of the words I send you. After all this time you hold grudges where there is meant to be livelihood.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth the smoke began to fill her gaze as his from slowly vanished. His grin being the last thing she saw as she shot up in bed, gasping and trying to contain her breathing. “C'mon Y/N... We've been through this plenty of times.” She muttered to herself, breathing deeply through her nose and exhaling out her mouth.

Y/N eyed the door to the living room, knowing for a fact that there was an old, worn-out desk against the back wall. She remembered the last time she had touched it a month ago. Remembered the last thing she had put inside the drawer that she forced herself to ignore.

She knew that if she was to fall back asleep, she wouldn't be plagued by the dream until the next sunset. However, though Y/N tried ever so hard to forget the words she had heard from the man who had ruined her childhood innocence, she couldn't take her mind off the letter that was lying in the drawer, unopened and hated.

As morning arose, so did Y/N. She had been unable to force herself back to sleep and instead, spent the night rehearsing her monologue that she would deliver to a judge later that morning in order to insure a child was taken from his toxic parents. She was quick to dress and insure she looked as professional as possible before she left the house with a glance at the desk drawer.

The drive to the courthouse was filled with a lot of singing on her part in order to insure her mind never once wavered from the day ahead. If there was one thing Y/N was desperate to do, it was to help persuade a judge to pass over the custody of a four-year-old boy to his grandmother.

Being brought up in the system was far from an ordinary life and Y/N often found herself being asked how it was. However, to her it had been all she had ever known so how would it be possible for her to compare living with parents when she had none. It had been one of the main reasons she had pushed herself in school and decided to become a social worker. The only people who looked out for her growing up in the system were the other kids. Social workers were for the group homes who had much more money than the one she had been placed in.

Courtroom four was almost as empty as Y/N predicted it to be. She was among the very few professionals there. Of course, the grandmother was also there along with the biological mother and her seventh partner who looked almost as though he had taken a substance of some sort.

The case kicked off in full swing as the mother's lawyer pleaded her case. It took Y/N all of three seconds to realise that he wished he hadn't bothered trying to represent her. Mrs Dellany, the grandmother with whom Y/N was working with had muttered something about his pride taking a deep hit just as she stood up, ready to win the case.

“Though I'm finding it difficult to believe that Miss Greene and Mr. Harrison are fully sober right now, I do have a few questions I'd like to ask them in order to grasp a better angle.” Y/N spoke, brushing her hands along the side of her jacket as she turned to face the two. “Miss Greene, can I ask just how old you are?”

“How old I am?” Miss Greene slurred, trying to keep her eyes from rolling into the back of her head. “I'm forty-seven.”

“Forty-seven.” Y/N repeated, nodding as she smiled politely. “And how old is your partner, Mr. Harrison?”

Miss Greene's brow furrowed as she looked to her partner, trying to figure out just how old her actually was. “He's thirty-six or thirty-eight... I can't remember which.”

Y/N was un-fazed as she nodded, raising a brow at the lawyer who was representing her. His head was in his hands as he shook his head, a sigh falling from his lips. “How long has Mr. Harrison been living with you, Miss Greene?” 

“Forty-one years!” She exclaimed, looking thoroughly pleased with herself at being able to answer a question so quickly and know the answer. However, Y/N knew instantly that she realised something was wrong. The jury were whispering to each other, obviously catching the lie that she had just made up.  

It was safe to say that Y/N had won the case for Mrs. Dellany and she was able to leave the courthouse feeling as though she had made a change in the world. However, after winning the case she had one thing on her mind. She felt the need to read the letter. 

____

[thewitchandthebeasthimself]

The Witch and The Beast Himself: Chapter 13

[So I’ve decided I’m going to end this fanfic at chapter 20 then move on to a brand new Durarara related fanfic. There’s only going to be mentions of Shizuo during these next couple of chapters, but a lott of plot development! Enjoy! <3]

As promised, I was released from the hospital the next day, and I couldn't have been more ecstatic to finally be out of there. Upon leaving the hospital, I made a promise to myself that until Izaya is caught I will not let my guard down and that I will keep barriers up wherever I go until he is dealt with once and for all.

Erika and the van gang, with the exception of Walker, swung by to pick me up from the hospital and took me back to my apartment. Erika talked my ear off almost the whole way there.

“I’m so excited you’re finally out!” She pipped excitedly. “Did ya hear there’s an anime con coming up in the next couple of weeks?”

“No I didn’t,” I said, finally giving her my ears. Anime cons always sounded so exciting here; it’d actually be really fun to go to one. “Where is it going to be?”

“It’s going to be at the Sunshine City Convention Center!” She said excitedly. “You should go with us! Everyone from my cosplay group is going to be there, it’ll be a lot of fun!”

"I’m sure it will be!” I said. “Do you know who you’re going to go as?”

“We decided that we were going to group cosplay as the girls from Angel Beats!” Erika said. “I’m for sure going as Yuri, Kanai wants to go as Yui, Azusa wants to go as Shiina, so… is there anyone from Angel Beats that you wanna cosplay?”

“Is Kanade taken by anyone?” I asked.

“Actually, no she isn’t!” Erika’s jaw seemed to drop as she thought about it. “You’d be so perfect as her, (your name)! You two are actually kind of alike in a way! All you need is her outfit, a wig that matches her hair, and some matching contacts! Oooh this’ll be so exciting!”

“Yeah I can't wait!” I said excitedly with her. “I'll have to order my costume online as soon as I get home, do you think it would be here in time before the con?”

“It should be,” she said.

“Well I am definitely attending this!” I said excitedly. I noticed that Kyohei and Saburo were quiet the entire time I've been in the van with them.

“Hey, you guys have been quiet up there, are you two okay?”

“Yep, we were just letting you have your little nerd fest back there.” Saburo teased.

“So have you thought about how you're going to deal with Izaya yet?” Kyohei asked, changing the conversation.

“We've been brainstorming,” I said.

“Okay,” Kyohei replied, resting his elbow on the window as we rode to my apartment. “What exactly is he planning? Why did he even attack you in the first place?”

“Celty still thinks its because of my relationship with Shizuo,” I stated. “So now that he sees him happy, he can't stand it; so he's going after the both of us.”

“Ugh, this is pointless, Izaya.” he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Well, you already know that if you need help from us then you can call Erika.”

“Yep I do, you guys are awesome,” I said thankfully.

“Heh no problem at all.” he said. We came to a stop as we pulled up to my apartment.

“Off ya go!” Saburo said as he parked.

“You gonna be alright by yourself in there?” Kyohei said as I got out of the van.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I said as he rolled down his window to talk to me. “I’m probably gonna see if I could go work for a bit, I need the money.”

“We thought you lost your job.” Erika said out of the open van door.

“No, Shizuo went up to my job and told them what happened, and apparently they told him that I can return to work when I felt better.” I said.

“Oh okay, well we’ll come by sometime!” Erika clapped her hands together. “Also, don’t forget to order your costume for the anime con!” she said as she shut the van door.

“We’re gonna head out, be careful out there, okay?” Kyohei warned.

I nodded to him and waved before they drove off. Something did seem a bit off about him as he spoke to me, so I gave it some thought on the way up the steps to my apartment. I noticed that his energy gave off a genuine concern for me. I didn’t notice it before but he also gave off an energy to me that he had had a very recent incident that shaped him into who he is now, a more kind and caring soul that seeks to help others through their troubles much like he himself had experienced in the past. I wonder if…  

...Car accident ...  the buzzwords rang through my head as I thought about what that could’ve been.

Huh, my intuition is never wrong, I thought as I unlocked the door. Maybe he feels like he needs to be a bit more protective over me because he also had a traumatic accident much like I had recently? I guess it made sense for him to be that way. Especially since I’ve heard that he was looked up to by a lot of people here.

I decided not to give it much more thought as I stepped inside of my apartment and locked the door behind me. The place was still kind of a mess because of Izaya’s invasion; some of my books were strewn on the ground, my box of supplies that I kept in my room was drug out into the living room and pilfered through. I sighed as I cleaned up the mess and put everything back in it’s place. I brought a dragonsblood incense into the living room and lit it, sticking the other end into the burner. I breathed in the refreshing smell of the incense, the sensation I felt as I exhaled instantly calming me.  Despite the mess in my living room, I didn’t realize how much I missed this place until I stepped through the door and came into contact with the familiar sights and smells of my ingredients, incense, crystals, and herbs. All of these things were my own, and that was not going to change, no matter who tried to invade my personal life.

After cleaning up the mess, I brought my laptop into the living room and set it down on the coffee table so that I could order my Kanade Tachibana outfit, wig, and contacts. I opted for an outfit that was a size bigger than what I’m used to wearing, because I knew it would probably fit me best.

I chuckled to myself as I placed the order for the cosplay set. Who knew that a witch such as myself was also into cosplaying? I guess it would seem a bit odd to some, but for me, this was my chosen lifestyle.

Next, I closed my laptop and brought out some ingredients to prepare my protection spell. I also pulled out my Book of Shadows and pen to aid me in creating the perfect spell to keep out the likes of Izaya.

I flipped through my book to a clean page and wrote in the header, Protection Spell.

Underneath of it, I wrote out some columns geared towards helping me build the spell.

Astral candle:

Day candle:

Moon phase:

Hour:

Intention:

Crystals:

According to the old ways, how you used each of these columns are very important when it came to spell building. “Astral candle” is a candle that I will associate to the target’s star sign.

Now that I thought about it, I never got to know him well enough to even know what his birthday is. I picked up my phone to text Celty,

 [ Hey, I know this might be weird, but would you happen to know what Izaya’s birthday is? I’m preparing a spell.]

I waited a few moments before she texted me back, saying,

  [Shinra might know, let me ask him.]

I set my phone down so continue building the spell. “Day candle” is the day of the week that would be best to perform this spell on and an associated candle color. I had a whole list written down in my Book of Shadows that allowed me to easily look this up. After finding the direct association, I found that this spell would best be performed on a Tuesday and its color association would be red. I flipped to the page I was writing my spell down on and wrote Tuesday (red)  next to “day candle:”. I felt a buzz come from my phone to see the text back from Celty:

 [ Shinra said it’s May 4th.]

  [ Okay thanks, I’ll explain what I’m doing the next time I see you. ]

 [ Just be careful. ] Celty texted back.

I set the phone down so that I could finish preparing the spell. Celty just told me that Izaya’s birthday is on May 4th, meaning that he is a Taurus. I found in my Book of Shadows that the astral candle I would pick for him would be a red candle. I made note of this next to “astral candle:”. Next to “moon phase:”, I wrote “waning”, meaning that I would perform this spell on a waning moon phase, because waning moon phases are best for performing protection spells or spells where you are trying to get closure on something big.

I found that the best time of the day to perform this spell would be at 10 P.M. because that time would best be suited for my intention. I noted that next to “Hour:”. For my intention, I wrote, “Protection from Izaya Orihara, no matter where this spell is cast”. And finally, after skimming through one of my crystal books, I wrote down “smokey quartz”, “amethyst”, and “obsidian” next to “crystals;”. I figured it’d probably best to go ahead and prepare the written part of the spell next, but then decided against it since I’ve been great at coming up with the words in the midst of performing a spell. I looked over what I had written, marked the page by bending the top left corner of the page down, then closed the book. I took a breath out, relieved the building part of the spell is over. For me, preparing the spell is usually the most time consuming part of spell working, but proves to be very effective if I plan out what I’m going to do before I do it.

I set my books down on the coffee table next to my laptop and went into my room to change into my work clothes.

Hopefully they’ll let me back in since I was gone for so long , I thought. I grabbed my keys, walked out the front door and closed it behind me, locking it. For extra, but temporary protection, I took a deep breath in, imagined the color red and a shield over my door. I let it out, allowing the image I seen in my head to manifest in front of me. A transparent shield covered the front door of my apartment, which will hold until I return from work.

After shielding my front door, I felt a familiar suppressed energy to my left. I look over to find Anri coming out of her apartment too. She wore her black hoodie dress that showed off her surprisingly curvy figure rather well.

“Oh hey, Anri,” I smiled. She turned to face me, her eyes widening.

“(your name)!” Anri gasped, “When did you get out of the hospital?”

“Today, actually,” I said.

“Really? And you’re going to work? Shouldn’t you stay home?”

“I mean, I feel fine right now so I figured I should go work for a bit to catch up on rent and what not.” I said, rubbing my left side where I was stabbed. It only seemed to hurt whenever I made sudden sharp movements, which I decided that I would be careful on.

“Okay, if you think you’re okay then go for it.” Anri shrugged. “Well, I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.” She bowed to me then walked past me down the steps.

“See ya.” I walked down the steps behind her to head off to work. As she began to turn in the opposite direction that I was going, I suddenly remembered about the day I was stabbed, the shadowy figure that attacked Izaya, and how Shizuo referred to it as “Saika girl”.

If she isn’t too busy I should probably ask her about it before she takes off, I thought.

“Hey Anri!” I called out to her.

She turned around to look at me. “Hmm?”

“Are you super busy?”

“Well I was going to go meet up with one of my friends, but that’s not too important at the moment, I guess, What is it?”

“I need to talk to you about something, would you mind to walk with me to work? I’ll make you a free coffee.”

“Um okay, sure,” She walked up to me and fell in step with me as we walked down our quiet street to the coffee shop.

“So what is it?” Anri asked.

“I’m just curious about something.” I began. “Shizuo called you ‘Saika girl’ and said that you were the one that stopped Izaya the day he stabbed me, do you have any idea what that means?”

“Oh, ummm…” She appeared hesitant to answer me, and upon asking her I thought I could sense a… very… hungry, evil, and obsessive energy coming off of her. It felt very strange since she normally somehow suppresses her energy; it's almost as if it decided to seep through for a split second upon my questioning. Is this why she does so? I honestly can’t ever imagine her being associated to the energy I just felt.

I heard her grunt, but she didn’t answer my question.

“Anri? Are you hiding something? Something… unnatural?”

She hung her head down slightly and frowned as we walked, as if she felt ashamed and embarrassed.

“If you are, its okay. I could feel it, and I can understand why you don’t want anyone knowing about it.”

She remained unresponsive. I felt kind of horrible, as if I were interrogating her.

“I’m sorry, if you don’t want to talk about it then I understand. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not exactly a human either.” I leaned in towards her to half-whisper, “I’m a witch.”

I caught her eyes widen at my revelation, but she still did not look up or ask about it. Unsure of what to do, I moved back from her and said, “I know it may not seem like it since I got myself stabbed, but this is who I’ve been since I was a little girl. I could demonstrate some of my power, but I’ve already had enough suspicion of that online.”

“I know what you are.” She said hastily as she finally spoke.

“You what?” I looked up, confused, “How?”

“Saika told me when it had first sensed you,” she looked up at me to finally meet my gaze. “One of the reasons I brought you cookies that day was because Saika and I were curious of you. ”

“Oh,” I said, slightly confused. “So what exactly is Saika then? Is it, like, a voice in your head or something? I can tell that it’s very strong and that you have to keep it suppressed.”

“You’re right,” Anri said. She looked down as she held up her hand. Suddenly, it appeared as if the tip of a blade flew up out of the palm her hand. The blade that she showed me had a very distinct silver glow to it, just like the shadowy figure had. The blade literally had its own red aura.

“Whoa!” I said, a bit taken back. So it was her! I was fascinated by her strange power, but something else had also came to mind upon seeing it.

“Wait a minute, that blade kind of tiny. The figure that I seen that night had a whole katana.”

“This is it,” she said. “This is only a piece of it so that I could show it to you. This is a demon blade called Saika.” The blade then seeped back into the palm of her hand as she put her hand down. “It has an obsession with loving the human race. Where we express our fondness through words and actions such as hugging or kissing, it can’t love like us because it is a sword, so it loves by cutting humans and making them it’s ‘children’. The way it does so is that it cuts someone it possesses it like a host, making them have glowing red eyes while under its possession and making them slash others to create other smaller saikas.

“There are a few others like me that can keep Saika from taking over our bodies, but for others no so much,” she continued. “I’ve met a girl that was driven crazy by Saika’s influence. And I’ve met a woman that was able to modify her Saika.”

“Oh wow, that’s… that’s kind of scary, but kind of cool.” I said. “Have you considered having it removed?”

“I can’t,” she said. “If it weren’t for Saika, I wouldn’t be alive right now. I am repaying my debt to it by allowing it to live inside of me, but not allowing it to take over my body.”

“Oh okay, I see, so you’ve made kind of a pact with it.”

She nodded. We stopped outside of the coffee shop to finish our conversation.

“Okay,” I said. “Well, I just wanted to say thanks for attacking Izaya before he got away with some of my blood on his knife. Not like he really knew how to use it to begin with.” I smirked.

She made a small laugh as well. “Yeah. And its no problem, I’m sure you would’ve done the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

“Yep.” I opened the door and allowed her to walk past me then stepped into the shop myself to begin working.