#four hours in a car is too long for my crumbling spine

[maaikeatthefullmoon]

As promised to my darling friend @tismrot, here is the first of The Holiday Diaries *insert ominous music here*. Hope you enjoy it, dollface.

The drive was four hours. I can’t drive. Essentially, I lived in a country where I couldn’t speak the language when I was of an age to learn to drive. After that, once I moved to the UK at age 18, I’ve always either lacked the time or money (or both) for driving lessons. So I’m a frustrated passenger.

The destination was somewhere I said I’d never go again. A few years ago I ended up in A&E (not self inflicted - it was a treatment-resistant migraine, which means I end up on a morphine drip. It happens roughly every 4-5 years) and I can’t say my memories of this place are great as a result. On top of which I vowed last year that I wasn’t doing this type of holiday again and I’d be taking the kids separately from then on. Oh yeah, and then I lost my everloving shit last night as well. Oops. Meant to have that conversation AFTER the holiday.

Big words, big breeches…aaaaand here I am! On holiday! Fucksake. But hopefully it’ll be entertaining.

Hour one.

Kids argued within five minutes. Googled car games for them. They just looked at me like I grew an extra head. Felt like a dinosaur. Googled if I can do EMDR to myself. Results inconclusive. Atmosphere in the front of the car very awkward. BBC Radio 2 on.

Hour two.

Kids still arguing, although son has helped daughter build a rollercoaster on Minecraft. Told them about Rollercoaster Tycoon. Once again felt like a dinosaur. Messaged a LOT of people to pass the time. Still listening to Radio 2. Atmosphere obviously still awkward. Ignoring the burgeoning migraine that’s been bugging me on & off for the past week+. Definitely stressed. Saw someone with amazing green hair in a service station. Exchanged smiles. Kindred spirits. Despite being young enough to be my daughter. Do wonder if these people smile at me in a condescending way, wondering if grandma’s escaped from a home…Oh look, that was an ellipsis. And I DIDN’T PUT A SPACE AFTER IT. Ha. Anyway.

Hour three.

Fuck the migraine, took a triptan. Radio 2 still on, did pretty well on Ten to the Top. Dollface, you won’t know what this is…don’t worry about it. Read through the edits @tismrot made on my chapter I’d been struggling on. Felt like the shittest writer on Earth, but needed that kick up the arse. Realised by the end of the hour that the new triptans pack a punch and I was stoned off my nut. Is that a phrase? It is now. Atmosphere was…ah, fuck it, I didn’t care any more. It certainly passed the time.

Hour four.

Put my own playlist on. Well, a modified kid-friendly version. Still occasionally get caught out as I just filter songs out that have an ‘explicit’ tag, but sometimes the tag is missing, and sometimes they’re just fucking crude without using any swear words. Whoops. Oh well. Anything was better than Jeremy Vine. Was NOT listening to him. Took the kids for lunch at McDonald’s. Embarrassed the 8yo by putting on a silly hat, and singing, and dancing. It’s too easy. 11yo gives zero fucks, nothing embarrasses him.

Writing this in a caravan now. At least I have good reading material. I’ve finally got my over-arching plot & everything planned out for the first original book & these two books are great reading.

After the blowup argument last night I’m essentially spending time with the kids alone, reading alone or writing alone. A L O N E

Although there appears to be a case of amnesia that’s set in already. I’m choosing to laugh hysterically at this

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: It's been an exciting four days, let me tell you.

I was putting on my seatbelt to pick up Oldest continuous friend, when the bad shoulder popped out again. this meant, of course, that the entire weekend I was in searing pain, but I'm used to that, and the upside was i could show the specialist on Monday what my shoulder is actually like these days. More on that in a bit.

The visit was absolutely lovely. We had a lot of time to hang out. The Party Saturday went swimmingly and we had a couple Millennials over for Sunday dinner so Oldest friend and the youngest two Millennials got a lot more chat time with Oldest friend than they were able to get at the party.

The one bad thing was steam started pouring out of my car Sunday while we were out and about. I cracked the hood and immediately spotted water pouring out of the side of one of the things. It was definitely water. It was too deep in for me to temp fix with duct tape. I think another hose or possibly the seal connecting a hose has crumbled. A car guy saw me with the hood up and I showed him where the water was coming from, and it wasn't anything he could solve without taking it apart either, which was what I suspected.

I spent all the money catching up bills after the three (3!) car emergencies I had last spring. except for a few dollars left in my wallet, what little else I had for the month is earmarked for auto-withdraw bills, etc.. It is now a November problem. The car is dying, but I can't manage without it and I will never be able to afford replacing it. Sigh. I had enough gas in my car for the month, but now I must work out how to buy Squirrel gas to replace what I'm using for medical stuff. He's still behind on bills from his car emergency last spring and has now lost his job. Makes me wish they'd let me sell blood, but I'm on too many meds, even with the blood bans lifted.

People watching on tumblr would have seen mostly pre-programmed activity because I was either busy or exhausted, so non-social time was mostly spent asleep or petting cats.

Tavy had the Best Time. He got the Quiet Man Cleaner Friday, who he let pet his head a little without attacking him despite the excitement of bed linen change. He remembered Oldest friend despite long separation. There were lots of visitors Sunday all of whom he enjoys.

Bonus: The Cats were given an exciting new toy for my birthday in the shape of a coffin, containing ghost mice they can fish out through the side holes. This toy is perfectly designed to cater to both Tavy and Livia's interests and they have been taking turns going to town on it.

I hung out with OCF for a few more hours Monday before dropping them at the station, then went to see the Ostio about my arm which is deteriorating badly despite daily physio excercises.

The Backstory; At some point in 2019 I woke up with my shoulder joint fucked. I kept trying to find ways to unfuck it. No dice. It wasn't healing, just getting worse. Eventually, I'd lose power to it and drop things leading to scaldings, other injuries, broken things etc.. You know, like my legs, which is from arthritis damage to my hips and spine.

So when that started happening I tried to take it to my doctor, but the pandemic had hit, so there were delays. She and I both thought it sure looked like the arthritis was attacking my shoulder joints. (The other shoulder had it too, but much more mild and manageable.) so she sent me to an osteo. cue more pandemic delays. I got an older white male doctor, who did a cursory examination and insisted that there was nothing mechanically wrong with my shoulder. The arm was simply atrophied and that was causing the pain that pre-dated the atrophy, presumably via a time portal, rather than the atrophy being caused buy the pain and the arm not working so I couldn't use it for much, even though my theory fit the facts and cause and effect. So I got referred to physio, which took awhile to get because pandemic.

I got a bunch of exercises I do every day unless I have an injury, like the damage from Friday's dislocation. They did really help the left shoulder. It's still damaged, but mostly holding steady. My right plateaued for a while and I got some use back, but as the physio did not fix the underlying cause that was making me lose power to the arm and causing all that pain, it started deteriorating again. Despite not being atrophied anymore. it's almost as if there were something mechanically wrong with the joint and I had not in fact done this to myself by spontaneously deciding to mostly not use my dominant arm for no reason, and is if cause and effect were still in operation. Huh.

Monday's Doctor was my ageish. We did the usual wow your arm is fucked tests and got a bunch of x-rays and I bet you'll never guess what is wrong with my shoulder joint. I have serious arthritis in that shoulder, which we would have known back in 2020, if the other osteo had listened to me and believed in cause and effect and didn't assume I was lazy because he was too lazy to properly examine me. Bonus! after four years of not getting proper treatment and reinjuring the shoulder over and over and over odds are good my rotator cuff is borked too. So we need to schedule an MRI so they know which joint replacement surgery to do and how to sort out the rotator cuff situation.

It's not that I enjoy surgery. I fucking hate it, but I've known for a couple years the joint needed replacing. I figure the surgery can't hurt that much more than it already does right now. Shoulder rehab will suck, but at least I will be getting somewhere with it instead of doing extremely painful physio that periodically injures me while it continues to deteriorate. So progress of a sort.

Squirrel has lost his job and needs about $800.00 for bills and food for a month. They are an old RL friend and my roommate. https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/Squirrelmh

My car has broken yet again and I owe Squirrel gas now: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/Gwydion

[bakatenshii]

Rapture

Oikawa Tooru x Reader (Haikyuu!!)

word count: 2.8k

TW: 18+, smut, incest, dub/noncon, mild somnophilia

A/N: I started writing this in my notes bcos I wanted to get out a cheeky Oikawa drabble for his birthday, didn’t wanna commit to a proper fic bcos fuck knows I’ve been writing my first ever fic for over a month. Technically this is my first official fic I finished! So much love for my wife @blahkugo for listening to me sob and whine about this & beta-ing it, also to @lookslikeleese who created this brainchild of Tooru-nii with me. 

rap·ture

/ˈrapCHər/

a feeling of intense pleasure or joy.

(according to some millerian teaching) the transporting of believers to heaven at the Second Coming of Christ

Blood is thicker than water, in all forms and shapes and sizes. The guilt of blood lays thicker, sweaty and clammy, threatening to matte his perfectly coiffed hair. The guilt lies limp on his childhood bed, delicate legs dangling just a hair away from toeing the carpet.

You couldn’t reach when you were younger, he’d always help you down with all the gentleness of a protective mother and its cub. Long slender fingers tucking under your armpits to lift you from his stiff mattress to stand you on the soft carpeting.

Guilt, in the form of his baby sister laying vulnerability-up, presenting to him in taunt, as if it’s a gift from Satan himself. You won’t know, will never know, It promises. You’re out cold, too many cups of trashy house-party drinks in, your night was bound to end up like this one way or another— exposed and defenseless in a man’s bed. You should be lucky it’s your own big brother’s.

He curses himself for still having been awake when you called him at half four in the morning, curses himself for staying up studying tapes of his opposing team. Bad habits die hard. You were loopy, slurring your words, and all he could hear were the warm familiar sound of ‘niichan, niichan’ tinkling through the static. He had the keys clanking in his hands before he even registered the other voices across the line; deep, low, predatory— of men.

The drive there felt like a blur, tunnel visioning only on the number plate you’d sloppily sent him three times, each varying in one digit. It wasn’t even the right address, it didn’t match your location on his phone.

He saw crowds, loud bass reverberating through to his sleek car that stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the sea of beat-up sedans and trucks. He saw limbs, too many limbs, entangling together in a frenzy of sweat and lust; limbs on curves and humps of silhouettes, limbs on your small frame leaning into the corner of the dimly lit room. Then he saw red.

He couldn’t hear the shouts and hollers of his name, crazed fangirls pawing at him for an autograph, a picture, any type of affection from The Oikawa Tooru himself, international volleyball superstar with too many sponsorships under his belt. He reached out an arm towards you, and you clung to him like a magnetic pull, whole body suctioning onto his and tittering out a string of ‘niichan came to pick me up’ and a fit of giggles.

His first conscious breath was taken once he got you in his car. He didn’t want to look at you, didn’t want to assess the damages lest he drove his car straight into the dastardly party if he saw any hint of protrusion. He didn’t; you were fine. You seemed fine, too. You were all-too happy to see him, bragged to him ‘I bet them that you would come pick me up if I called you.’

You told him you missed him, ‘missed niichan so much, he never even bothered to call when he came back to Japan’. Tooru sighed, half part relief, half part guilt. He told you he couldn’t bring you back to his hotel, had to bring you home, because imagine the scandal if he got papped.

It was a lie, he couldn’t give a damn if he got papped, he could easily have explained that it was his own sister; he couldn’t give himself up to the safety of his own enclosed room. His room with no security net of Mum and Dad threatening to barge in, his room where he was free to do whatever he wanted.

He drove you home.

You begged him to pick you up and carry you upstairs, because your feet hurt, they’re so sore from dancing all night. He complied, using all his decade-molded muscles to pull you into his chest and his heart sank to his gut at the realization that you weighed like nothing to him; just like you had when you were younger.

You were bigger now, grown, an adult, but he had grown all the same. It was like a cruel joke— no matter how much you grew, he’d parallel your growth so he would always be just that much stronger than you, that much bigger. The perfect size to protect you. The perfect size to hurt you.

He was directed to his own room rather than yours, with the excuse that yours was too close to the master bedroom, too risky to wake your parents up. His feet moved before his mind could stop him, muscle memory bringing him to the space he’s barely stepped foot in since he was eighteen.

It was too familiar, whole body transcending back to his childhood, back to the innocence of your relationship before he’s tainted it with his twisted perversions. His arms laid you down on his bed, hands finding the straps of your heels to pick off before you thumped back onto his bed, sprawled out and fast asleep.

He’s been staring at your vulnerable placid silhouette splayed on his bed for what feels like minutes, hours. He can’t bring himself to tuck you in, can’t trust his limbs to function how he instructs them to. His skin crawls at the gust of wind kissing the sweat embalming his body, but he doesn’t let himself strip off the suffocating layers. He wants to bask in the physical manifestation of his disgust, nausea, let it remind him of his twisted perversions he can never, ever indulge in.

You shiver, and he jumps. Your tiny body is quivering in chills, begging him to warm it up. He moves with the grace and caution of a robber on the prowl for an expensive jewel, gently snaking his arms under the crook of your knee and top of your spine, lifting you up and away from him like he’s terrified— disgusted, by you.

He lifts the covers and daintily drapes it over the small rise and fall of your chest, pinching the top with only two fingers. A deep breath, a moan, a soft ‘niichan’, and he thinks his heart has stopped completely.

He’s frozen, the hammering in his chest arguing that no, he’s still very much alive, and spares a glance down at you. Your eyelids are fluttering, lips softly pouting, and unmistakably still asleep. He’s mid sigh of relief when he feels a small hand wrap around his arm, and for the second time that night he thinks he’s died.

All the gravity weighing him down disappears as he lets himself be tugged down onto the bed, the weight of his body crushing your tiny one, but he can’t bring himself to move. He’s too scared, he’s horrified.

He can feel two dainty arms loop around his neck and cage his head into the side of your face. He can feel the palpitations in his chest, heart hammering straight into yours, tangling with your soft cadenced beats, reaching in and provoking it to waltz to the same fatal rhythm. He can feel his trousers strain and his blood run cold.

Deep breaths to the count of the tick and tocking of the clock on the wall. He feels blurry, vision blotchy, skin prickling with every flood of blood traveling south. He wills it to stop, begs for it to spare him, he’ll behave, he’ll never let his mind wonder to you ever again, he promises.

God is all merciful, but God has long given up on him. Satan wants to watch his world burn, collapse, and dance in the ashes of his crumbling dignity. It teases him with the hilt of your soft body moving to press into his, crawling into his arms caging you in, willfully entering the den holding a ravenous lion fighting its own fangs.

Your eyes flutter open, gaze finding his with striking precision, and smile. It’s the same smile you’ve given him his whole life, the trust and love carved into every quirk of the lip. It shatters his dignity, stomps on it with childish fervor, and Tooru chokes on the breath coming out.

He feels you nuzzling closer, can feel your hair tickling his chin, and prays for forgiveness to any God willing to listen. None do— he’s too far gone. His hand’s reaching to cradle the back of your head as he plants the softest kiss on your cheek with all the practiced grace of a man begging for salvation.

Your eyes stare straight into his with undeterred conviction, glazed over with equal parts alcoholic daze and pure, unadulterated adoration. There’s not enough oxygen traveling to his brain to justify his actions, no amount of repentance would excuse his sins. His lips press into yours, so gently it feels like a mere ghost of breath, quivering in prayers for forgiveness.

A shift; small warm body squirming under his arms, shuffling closer. It catches the tent between his legs, and his whole body twitches like it’s been stung. He barely chokes down the whimper that threatens to come out.

He can feel your hands locking behind his hair, pulling your body infinitely closer to his, smushing your soft tits into his hard chest as he feels the breath sucked out of him by the Devil himself. There’s no more feigned chastity, all abstinence launched aside as he feels a little tongue prod at his lips. They open to let yours in, sucking on it as if it’ll bring his very breath back.

He doesn’t let himself wonder if it’s okay, he knows it’s not; it’s wrong, so wrong, on so many levels. He’s given up trying to please a Holy deity, Satan can take him whole if it means he can ravish in his sick twisted fantasies. He slots a leg between yours, letting the two pairs tangle and waltz to the symphony of your matching heartbeats, finally synching in a virulent tempo.

Breaths turn to pants, turn to unmistakable moans, and Tooru has to pull back to clamp a hand over your mouth in warning. The imagery of his long slender fingers covering more than half your face sends jolts down his body at the same time he realizes it’s him whining out so desperately.

He looks back at your face, beady, glassy, needy eyes peering back at him in sheer devotion, and he shuts his eyes in pure agony as his heart clenches in pangs of guilt, while his adulterous cock twitches in revelation. The warm soft breaths fan his palm, lips puckering underneath to peck softly at his fingers in hopes of escape; he thinks he might cum untouched.

His hand yanks back in shock, in horror, in disgust. But your hands clasped firmly behind hair pulls him back in, and he whispers out a prayer before a soft, “We can’t.” His eyes bore into yours, begging for mercy, begging you to let him go so he can suffer for his sins.

You don’t respond, not immediately. He feels his face pulled into yours and a distinct moisture building up on his thigh wedged between your much smaller legs. Wet— the suction on his tongue, the grinding on his leg, everything’s wet, and damp, and he thinks his mind might be drowning.

He can hear whines, pitched in desperation, and he’s certain they’re from you this time. His arm moves to grip at your hips, cupping your supple mound to shift it up the sheets and press your cunny against his straining erection. His hips buck on instinct, grazing the drooling slit covered only by a thin piece of cotton.

His mind goes blank, vision patching, and it’s too fast, too much, “please, Tooru-nii”— he’s crying. There’s tears stinging the corners of his eyes while he chokes out a string of ‘no, no, no’. He can’t slow the erratic humps against his lil sister’s cunt, the fingers digging into your hips marking you with patches of blooming purple and green, ‘I love you, niichan’.

It’s a knee-jerk reaction; he yanks his body back, takes sharp inhales of breath, until he can open his eyes to look at you again. Panic and nausea coat his tongue where it once tasted like you, but he’s met with the same look of pure adoration you gave him before he tainted your body with sin.

He realizes your hands are still straining to reach the back of his neck where they were before he wrenched his body away. They’re laying gently on his shoulders, twirling lazily at the strands of his hair curling around the base. Tears are flowing down his cheeks, or maybe it’s one single continuous tear, and his body is wracked with guilty desperation.

There’s no malice in your expression, no accusatory anger, and most of all, no disgust. Your face is painted with bliss, and joy, and love— Tooru snaps.

He’s pushing your shoulders back until they meet his singular pillow, and crawls down to nest in the space between your thighs. Large palms hook under your knees and push back until they touch your shoulders, and he moans when he sees your arms reach out to hook them in place obediently.

He wants to cherish this moment, burn the image into his brain for years to come, however many he’s spared, but his loins burn with years of yearning. He grants himself one glance at your tiny frame spread open for him, revels in the sheer devotion in your eyes, and plunges his face into the drenched cotton covering your core.

You moan out his name in a wanton reaction as he inhales your sweet toxins like he’s trying to drown— he is, he has no reason to live past this moment he sins, no right to live as he indulges in his sick perversions.

He can feel each shake and tremor of your thighs above his head as he sucks and licks at the soaked cotton, rendered nothing but an useless scrap now. Each suck is paired with a deep whine, echoing through his now-barren room. With one swift move he pulls off your panties and let it dangle between your ankles hanging above your bodies. Slick lines drip from the wet rag, stretching to connect back to your drooling pussy.

Five seconds— that’s how long he allows himself to marvel at your leaking slit, lips pink and puckered around the clenching hole. His cockhead drenches through his pants, so painfully hard a soft breath could send him tumbling over.

But he doesn’t allow himself to touch it, it’s not about him; it’s about you. Your devotion, mercy— your sheer, unadulterated, unwavering love for him. It’s about you; you deserve the best, you deserve it all, you deserve someone that’s not him.

He licks up, tongue flat, and slowly follows the dip between your folds until he suctions onto your swollen bud. His lips give it a soft peck, before wrapping around it and enclosing it in the hot heat of his mouth.

He has half a mind to snake his hand up to clamp over your mouth, stop the loud moans and sobs from coming out, but each wail shoots jolts of arousal straight to his leaking dick; he can’t bring himself to shut it down, despite how good you look with his long fingers wrapped around your face.

With every long lap, he pulls more cries out of you, and by the time he prods his tongue into your needy hole, you’re clenching down on him, sucking back on the muscle. You’re close, he can feel it. His tongue fucks into you without any of the mercy you’ve graced him, hips rutting into the bedsheet in tangent to your growing squeals.

The palpitations hammering in his heart synchronizes with the pulse of your cunt, weaving into a fatal rondo before everything stops; his hips, your cries, the air closes in on your writhing bodies as he paints his pants in shame and sin.

He allows his peripherals to roam your body; thighs indented with tiny crescents by your dainty fingers, mouth agape with your cute pink tongue lolling out— he swallows down his guilt, letting it scorch his insides before coating his cock threatening to twitch back to life.

He watches your hands drop down from their determined grip, thumping lightly as they hit his bed. He gingerly folds your legs back onto the flat surface before dipping down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. He can feel your arms shake in attempt to reach out and cuddle him in, but give out to fatigue.

Your eyes flutter closed, lips molding back to that soft smile ever-present in his presence, and he thinks he hears a faint whisper of, ‘I love you, Tooru-nii.’

Placid, limp, he watches as your body loses energy and drains into the mattress below. It slaps him in the face, presents him with a trophy, a golden star stamped with a big fat ‘Sin’ calligraphed on. His world collapses around him, buries him in the debris of his crumbled dignity, and the Devil dances.

[seijorhi]

Meet the Parents

Not including the original anon (who was asking about Ushijima & Tendou) no less than four of you asked for a meet the parents scenario for each of the soulmate AU’s so...

TW implied dub/non-con

(Atsumu & Osamu’s will be posted tomorrow whoops 👉👈)

Outrunning Fate - Ushijima & Tendou

It begins with a phone call. Ushijima’s in your kitchen, fixing up the leftovers from the night before and Tendou has you trapped on the couch, long, gangly arms wrapped tight around your waist as he presses sloppy, open mouth kisses to your neck. He doesn’t stop when the phone rings - though you don’t miss the way his eyes narrow or the huff of disapproval that escapes him. He doesn’t like it when your attention wanders.

“Oh, hi dad.” You try to shove Tendou off of you without much success, glaring at him when he laughs and presses closer. “Um, now’s not a good time, can I call you back later?”

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Ushijima broaches the subject the next day. “We should meet your parents.”

You almost choke on your own spit. 

“Why?”

It’s Tendou who answers, his grin just a little too wide. “We gotta meet the in-laws at some point!”

A shiver ripples down your spine at the suggestion. They absolutely do not.

“Um, we’re actually not all that close.” A lie. “There’s not really much point. They live a few hours away.” Twenty minutes, actually. “And besides, t-they don’t approve of me having...” you trail off, glancing pointedly at the twins marks on your skin. 

Olive eyes bore into yours for a long, tense moment before they soften just a fraction, and he shrugs. “Okay.”

He tilts your face up into a kiss, and you allow yourself to breathe the tiniest sigh of relief. 

You don’t want them anywhere near your family, especially not when you’re planning to run. 

But it’s hard. Your parents are already worried about you pulling away. You haven’t told them about an of this, you don’t want them involved, but they’re nothing if not persistent. So you promise that you’ll come visit - carefully choosing a day that you know both Tendou and Ushijima will be busy. Skipping a few classes is the least of your troubles. 

You should have learned by now that nothing is that easy where your soulmates are concerned. 

“Babe?” 

You’re sitting on the edge of your bed, waiting for them both to leave when Tendou emerges from the bathroom - your bathroom - shirt unbuttoned, holding out two ties in his hands. 

“Which one do you think’ll go better with my suit - the blue or the red one? I wanna make a good first impression with your dad.” 

And just like that, your hopes of being able to sneak away comes crumbling down around you. 

There’s no use fighting it, not now. 

It’s Ushijima who notices that your hands are shaking as he helps you out of the car he’s parked out front of your parents’ house. He pauses, eyebrows knitting together, his broad thumb brushing against the back of your hand in slow, reassuring strokes. “Tendou will behave, there is no need to worry.”

There’s a subtle quirking of his lips, and you think he might be trying to make a joke, but you can’t focus on that when you feel like you’re going to be sick. The man in question appears at your other side, hooking an arm around your shoulder and dragging you in for a kiss.

“Best behaviour, pinky promise!” he winks, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the ride over musing about fucking you in you childhood bedroom. 

You would honestly rather shove a needles into your eyes than go though with this, but the front door of your old house is already opening, your mother rushing down the driveway. What else can you do but smile and play along as she throws her arms around you in a tight hug?

They are merciless in front of your parents, or at least Tendou is. From introducing himself to your mother as one of your ‘soon to be husbands’ to whispering all of his perverted little fantasies into your ear whenever their backs are turned. You physically have to clamp down on his wrist when he tries to slide his hand up your skirt while you sit down at the table for lunch. Even then, it takes a low growl from your other soulmate before he truly relents. 

And while your parents gush over Ushijima (a professional volleyball player!) he holds your hand in his, squeezing just a little too tight whenever your smile slips. Neither of them have mentioned the fact that you’d lied to them, and judging from the slow burning heat in Ushijima’s eyes when he glances your way, you can only assume that that punishment is still to come.

You hate having them there. It’s your home, something good and wholesome and safe that their very presence corrupts. You hate listening to your mother coo over how good the three of you look together, the respectful nod your father gives when the conversation inevitably shifts to sports. You hate listening to them tell the story of how you met, warping it to make it sound cute - consensual - but the nail in the coffin is your parents chuckling when Ushijima brings up how stubborn you were initially. 

You quickly excuse yourself to the bathroom, muffling your sobs in one of the big fluffy towels. 

You hate them, you think as you stare into the mirror, wiping the silvery tear tracks from your face, trying to erase all signs of your impromptu breakdown. 

You hate them for making you play along, but you can’t hide in the bathroom forever.

“Oh, sweetheart,” your mother murmurs, cupping your face in her hands as she catches you on your way out. You must be a better actor than you thought, because of instead of the panicked frown you expect as she studies your face, she just smiles warmly at you. “I’m so happy for you. All that worrying, trying to squash it all down and pretend that they didn’t exist... and you finally found them. Honey, you’ve done well for yourself. I can see how much they adore you!”

She glances over to your soulmates chatting with your father, and you follow her gaze, heart sinking. “Yeah,” you manage to reply, offering her a weak smile in return. 

If only she knew.

Like Nobody Else - Oikawa & Iwaizumi

What was the point in setting boundaries you knew would be broken?

After staying behind to watch them practice that first day, you swore that you wouldn’t go back. It didn’t matter that the volleyball club all knew, it didn’t matter that that meant that soon enough the whole school would know - you wouldn’t go back there with them. They could drag you off to go sit with them and their friends at lunch times, ambush you on your way to classes, but you wouldn’t let them fuck you in the locker rooms before hand, and you weren’t going to sit in those stands and pretend that you cared while they ran through endless training drills.

Yet when you shouldered your bag after the final bell the very next day, you only manage to make it a few steps down the hallway before strong hands are yanking it away from you.

“Wrong way, cutie,” Oikawa beams innocently, while Iwaizumi merely lifts a brow when you open your mouth to object. He’s holding your bag, and you have a sneaking suspicion that he won’t give it back until you agree to follow them. 

“Oh my god, he’s carrying her bag for her, they’re literally so sweet!” you hear one girl gush to her friend as the three of you breeze past, and Oikawa reaches across to intertwine his larger hand with yours. 

“Aren’t we just?” he asks you with a charming grin. 

Iwaizumi scoffs, “You’re not carrying jack shit, asshole.”

“Rude, Iwa!”

You don’t say a word. What’s the point?

It doesn’t come as a surprise when they make you stay back with them, long after the rest of the team has gone left. They’re not as rough this time, but your legs still feel like jelly by the time they’re both finished with you. Oikawa still wipes away your tears while Iwa helps you to your feet, pressing a gentle kiss against the crown of your head that makes everything worse.

They walk you home, both taking turns to kiss you goodbye on your doorstep, and you can only thank your lucky stars that your parents are both out so you don’t have to try and explain.

It becomes a routine during the week - on the days that they train you stay back with them and they dutifully escort you home, and on Monday’s when they don’t have practice, you’re either dragged with Oikawa to Lil tykes or forced to join Iwaizumi with whatever he planned on doing. Usually studying, though sometimes he’ll drag Makki and Mattsun (and on occasion, Mad Dog) out to train with him regardless. 

Your weeks belong to them, you’ve resigned yourself to that - but your weekends are yours. 

Or so you’d let yourself believe.

You ignore the text messages that flood your phone one Saturday morning, only for a persistent knocking at your front door to shatter the calm of your weekend only a few hours later. Your better instincts would tell you to ignore it, because you know (or have a good enough idea at least) exactly who’s behind it, but the fear that trickles down your spine urges you forward anyway. They tell you they love you, but you know better than to believe that that means they won’t ever hurt you - that they haven’t already hurt you.

“Hey, cutie. Mind if we come in?”

You don’t know why Oikawa bothers asking, because you barely have time to open your mouth to answer before he’s ducking under your outstretched arm and waltzing inside, Iwaizumi right on his heels.

“You weren’t answering your phone, so we figured we’d come and check up on our pretty girl, right Iwa? We were worried.” 

The latter grunts in acknowledgement, studying at you with narrowed eyes - an expression that makes your stomach flip uncomfortably.

“O-oh, my um, my parents aren’t home...”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and your heart skips a beat as your soulmates share a look, the grin on Oikawa’s face widening. “We’ll be on our best behaviour, we promise.”

But somehow ending up squished between them on the couch in your living room, watching some movie you’re barely paying attention to wasn’t quite what you expected. Sure, Oikawa’s mouthing greedily at your neck, and you haven’t missed the way Iwa’s hand has been slowly creeping up your shirt for the past ten minutes, but considering what you know they’re capable of - you’ll take it.

Yet you can’t force yourself to relax, not with the heat of their bodies pressed so close. You shift in your seat, your hand accidentally grazing against something hard and as you freeze in panic, Iwa stiffens, his breath catching with an audible hiss.

But it’s Oikawa, eyes hooded and wanting, who tilts your chin up to meet his gaze, “Baaaaby-”

You don’t get to hear the rest of that sentence, because at that moment your front door swings open once more, only this time it’s your parents.

There’s a quiet ‘fuck’ growled in your ear as the three of you scramble to right yourselves, your heart beating a mile a minute, feeling very much like a kid caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Never mind that you didn’t want this - never asked for it.

It’s your mother, mid-way through a conversation with your dad, who steps into the living room first, stilling at the sight that awaits her. Your eyes are wide, hands are clenched into fists in your lap as she stares at you for a painfully long moment, “Sweetheart,” she begins slowly, her voice sounding a little strained, “why are there two strange boys in the house?”

And for one single, shining second, you wonder whether it would be worth the trouble you’d land yourself in if you told her that they’d come over with the intention of hooking up with you - it wasn’t exactly a lie. Oh, your parents would be fuming, but at least you’d be safe in the knowledge that they’d never, ever let either of your soulmates anywhere near the house again. Maybe they might even insist on you changing schools altogether! But before you can actually entertain the thought, Iwa’s reaching across to subtly grab your hand, squeezing it tightly with a warning look. Don’t you dare.

Oikawa, as always, chooses that moment to step in and take control. “Ah, please forgive the rude intrusion, Mrs L/N. I’m Oikawa Tooru, and this is Iwaizumi Hajime, I’m assuming your lovely daughter has mentioned us?”

If you weren’t distinctly aware you’d pay dearly for it later, you might have snorted at that. Your mother frowns, folding her arms across her chest and quirking an eyebrow, but it’s your father, glaring outright at the two interlopers, who replies. “She has not.”

A shiver ripples down your spine at the chilling look Oikawa shoots you out of the corner of his eye. “Huh, I guess our little cutie’s still a bit shy. Well, never mind that. We’re her soulmates, and...”

It doesn’t even matter what the rest of his sentence is. Your parents hear the words ‘soulmates’, look at the two handsome, charming young men either side of you and all but melt. Suddenly it’s warm smiles and welcoming hugs. Your parents are delighted, and all it’s all too easy for both Iwa and Oikawa to slip into the roles they’re expected to play.

They spend almost an hour chatting with the two, and it hurts more than you care to admit when you look up into your mother’s beaming face and she gives you a wink. This is all she’s ever wanted for you - two handsome, strong boys to take care of her little girl. You can’t break her heart with the truth, you can only sit there quietly as they gush over you, pretend that it doesn’t make your skin crawl when Oikawa looks at you with those soft, adoring eyes and tells your dad that from the moment you spoke to him, they both knew they loved you.

‘Why won’t you two just leave me the hell alone?!’

Eventually your parents leave the three of you alone, letting you go back to your movie, and only then can you let that facade slip.

“Well that went better than expected,” Iwaizumi states, dragging you back down to settle on the couch with him, Oikawa plopping down on your other side and pulling you close.

He hums in agreement, a glint of something mischievous dancing in his eyes as he traces a single finger up your side. “Of course it went well. What’s not to love?”

[icefire149]

Tearing Apart At The Seams

(Read on Ao3 | Story warning: temporary major character death)

Overwhelmed was an understatement. Despite spending the car ride with her stare glued out the window in silence, Mary felt like an exposed nerve that had been thrashed with steel wool. If she closed her eyes she could still see things as she knew it: a house with a yard, laughter bouncing off the walls, toy cars on stair steps, hope in the mirror reflection. Her life wasn’t perfect, but it was hers.

Everything was wrong. The last thing she remembered was running into Sam’s nursery, but now, here she was standing in 2016 because God’s sister said so. Her chest felt incredibly tight. The man behind the steering wheel – no, Dean. She had to keep reminding herself – was peeking at her out of the corner of his eye every so many minutes.

She still didn’t know what to make of him. He knew the right stories. He was the right age. But….how could she swap the Dean she tucked into bed hours ago for this hardened stranger?

“It won’t be long,” Dean said, breaking the silence. “We should only be about a day behind Sam and Cas.”

Mary nodded, feeling chilled. The thought of seeing what became of her baby was horrifying. He wasn’t even a toddler yet, and now…..

Her arms ached for her baby, but she couldn’t break now. It wasn’t safe yet. Turning to look at Dean, she asked an unexpected question. “Who’s Cas?”

Dean didn’t take his eyes off the road, but his expression softened. He laughed, “He’s….Cas. He’s my best friend.”

“Oh.”

His shoulders relaxed as he leaned back more comfortably in his seat. “He lives at the bunker with me and Sammy. That’s where we’re going. It’s home.”

���The….bunker?”

“Yeah,” Dean’s tone was fond. “It’s a long story.”

“So it’s an actual bunker?”

Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “Yup.”

The rest of the drive went by without another word. Mary honestly didn’t know what to say. For the most part she just wanted to sleep and hopefully wake back up in 1983.

“Home sweet home,” Dean mumbled as they parked in the garage.

Mary was stunned by the collection of cars there. She actually felt a spark of excitement at the possibility of taking one of them out for a spin.

Slowly, she followed Dean inside. He nearly bounced down the steps, he was eager to get to where ever he was heading.

“Sammy!” Dean called. “Cas!”

Dean only took a few steps into the main room before whipping around on his heels. "Something's wrong," he said pulling his gun out. "Stay put."

He quickly disappeared down a hallway at the other end of the room. Mary didn't stray too far. What she could see was enough. Books and papers were scattered on the floor. There were drops of blood near the tables. The toe of her boot connected with an odd silver blade.

She picked it up, studying and turning it over in her hands. It wasn't cold like metal usually was. There was a warmth that felt like something more than what was left from whoever held it last. It was strange, but Mary wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Dean hadn't trusted her with a weapon, but fate did. Her fingers curled around the hilt; she wasn't letting go until Dean gave the all clear.

When she turned around, one of the walls had some kind of sigil drawn in blood. She shivered, already assuming the worst.

Home was supposed to be safe. This was supposed to be a home. The memory of blood twisted her gut. She lost her parents at home. She lost John....her babies..…

A voice deep down in her core screamed at her to run. She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Spinning, she saw a man stalking towards her.

"Is he still here?" His voice boomed, and Mary couldn't stop her eyes from instinctually glancing at the door Dean went through.

She didn’t know enough about this place to form a strategic plan. How many exits, if any, were down that hallway? Was Dean on his way back? Could he hear her if she ran or screamed?

Catching herself, Mary glued her stare onto the man. His steps slowed, but his piercing blue eyes were fixed on her as well. The way he moved, she realized, he was aiming to go past her around the tables. Mary started side stepping slowly to meet him step for step until there was only a large table between them.

She could tell that his mouth was moving, but all Mary could hear was her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. The longer she looked at him, the more convinced she was that he wasn't human at all.

Swallowing, her own spit went down like a rock. The air in the room started to crackle like it was electrifying. The man-shaped thing slammed his hands on the table, and she jumped. Her eyes darted again towards the doorway.

The image of her Dean with chocolate smeared cheeks blended into the stranger who tapped his fingers on the steering wheel hours ago while he quietly sang along to the radio under his breath. Stepping backwards, the heel of her boot alarmingly slid an inch. She didn't need to look down to know it was blood. Her lungs refused to take another breath. She could practically see Sammy swaddled in his baby blanket and his chubby, pink cheeks. The tightness in her chest felt like it was moments away from popping like a balloon.

The creature's mouth was still moving. He leaned forward. Hands still on the table. His eyes glowed an unnatural blue, and all Mary could see was the moment her dad’s eyes flashed yellow. She threw the blade.

It hit, burying deep into his abdomen and knocking him staggering backwards. The creature ripped it out, blood running down his hand like ribbons tying around his fingers. His hand shook, sending the blade clattering to the floor.

Mary stepped around the table, eyeing the thing cautiously. She could see that he held a hand against his stomach, but there was also a blue-white glow emanating from the wound. A shiver crawled up her spine, making the hair on her arms stand up. There was not a single monster that she could think of that bled both blood and light.

The creature fell to a shaky knee. A sheen of sweat on his forehead was visible in the light as he tilted his head up. He made no move to pick up the blade, but his eyes bore into her challengingly.

She couldn’t understand him. Mary’s eyebrows pushed together, studying him. He was going to let her kill him. Whether it was a trick or not, she couldn’t risk wasting this opportunity. Mary snatched the blade up, and drove it deep into his chest.

The only fight he gave back was the hard push he gave her, sending her flying across the room. Mary couldn’t see him from where she landed because of the table, but the room filled with that blue-white light. It was blinding, and the air felt like it was being completely sucked out of the room.

Mary opened her eyes to see scattered papers lightly floating down to the floor. The air had settled and she gasped for a deep breath. The strange light was finally gone. She got herself up, and hesitantly crossed the room.

Her hip cracked painfully into the table the moment she realized what she was seeing burned around the body: wings. “Dean!”

The word left her lips before her brain even caught up that she just called for her son. The next thing Mary knew, she was standing in the doorway Dean left through. Her hands trembled, but her mind kept circling around the fact that she called out to her four year old for help.

“Mom?” A rough voice called out far away. On coming footsteps echoed down the hall. “Mom!”

Her heart sank. Of course it was the Dean who walked away with a gun aimed high. “There’s….there’s a body in here,” Mary’s voice shook.

Dean sprinted down the hallway with eyes wide with fear. “Where is it?” he demanded.

Mary nodded in the direction of the table, and Dean pushed past her. His gun hit the floor with a loud crack. He froze in place half way to the body.

“Dean?” Mary stepped forward to see his jaw hanging open. Dean’s bottom lip trembled, and tears started running down his cheeks. She suddenly felt painfully cold.

Dean surged forward, dropping to the ground next to the body. Carefully, he pulled the blade out and tossed it aside.

Mary came closer, but at the same time continued to keep her distance. Her hands clutched the lip of the table.

“You stupid, son of a bitch,” Dean muttered quietly. He placed a shaky hand on the creature’s chest, closing his eyes like he was still trying to feel for a heartbeat. A sob tore through him. His fingers curled in the drying blood and the fabric of the white button up shirt. “I could go with you… you dumb bastard. You didn’t even fight back, did you?”

Dean pulled the body into his lap, cradling him. Gently, he brushed some of the hair sticking to the creature’s forehead back. Dean’s hand pressed the creature’s head into the crook of his neck. Tears started pouring, and his whole expression crumbled in silent despair.

Finally, Mary could see traces of the son she rocked for hours during his earaches and colds. She could see crystal clear the day Dean’s little hand slipped from hers at the supermarket. Not once was she willing to admit it, but she never knew how much time had passed before she realized that her hand was hot and clammy only from the warm day. When she found him, he was sitting with the potted plants bawling his eyes out. That night he’d confessed that he thought he’d never see her ever again.

Here Dean was decades later, but Mary recognized the way his face was falling apart. It was no different.

“Dean, who is that?”

Like he just realized that she was there, Dean’s eyes snapped over to her. His mouth quivered. “He’s my…..” His grip on the creature tightened.

“He’s not human,” the words slipped from her lips. She was still finding it hard not to focus on the massive wings burned into the floor.

“He’s an angel,” Dean snapped forcefully. “Castiel….”

"Oh." The word punctured her chest. "He's Cas."

Her knees tried to buckle, but Mary's knuckles were white from holding onto the table so tightly. She'd only been here for a day, and she did this.

She couldn't look away. Dean rocked like he did the day he tore his knee open in the street. He clutched onto the angel for dear life like she did when she held John's lifeless body.

An icy feeling crept up her spine. The glazed look in his eyes never left her. As much as they disagreed and marched in different directions, her hand always ached for his. It throbbed now like it was seeking a lifeline that it was never going to find again. Especially now with angel blood crusting under her nails.

She needed space. Air. Something. Mary’s legs wobbled under her, but she pushed on ahead keeping a hand on the wall when she disappeared down the hall way. She needed the images cycling through her head to stop.

Mary breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the kitchen. The air felt cooler and less stifling. The hum of the refrigerator was familiar enough she could close her eyes a moment, leaning against the counter. She needed to get her head screwed on right.

There was nothing she could do for…...now, and if he wasn’t responsible for the mess and Sam’s disappearance, who was? Where did he go? Dean needed a clear head.

First things first, she needed to scrub her hands. The blood wasn’t too stained into her fingertips yet. A deep exhale left her slowly as the water ran clear down the drain. Glancing around, she spotted a pale yellow hand towel in reach. She dried her hands, stopping only to get a better look at the bee embroidered to the bottom of the towel. It was unexpected, but well made.

Tossing it aside on the counter, Mary turned the water back on. She leaned forward, ducking her head into the sink and taking a long drink. Once she felt more alert, she realized that Dean, like it or not, he was going to need some water.

Her hand shook carrying the glass while she retraced her steps. Mary wasn’t sure what she would find when she made it back. Holding her breath, she found Dean in the same spot. His eyes were squeezed shut, but his mouth was moving silently.

“Are you….praying?” Her head crooked to the side as she stopped with in reach of him. She felt antsy to be standing this close to the wings.

Dean opened his eyes. “Chuck’s put him back together before,” his voice croaked. She held the glass out, but he shook his head. “I don’t know why he’s taking so damn long to answer. I don’t know where he went with Amara.”

Mary placed the glass on the table. She heard that name before. “Amara’s the one that brought me back, right?”

“Yeah.”

Nodding, Mary crossed her arms. “How do we find Sammy?”

Dean’s mouth curled into a snarl. “I’ll find them, and they’ll pay for this.” His knees cracked and shook, but Dean stood up. He refused to let go of Cas.

Mary shot forward to help him, but the look in Dean’s eyes made her freeze. She watched him hobble out of the room. With one last look at the wings burned into the floor, she followed after him.

Gently, Dean laid the body down on a bed in what looked like an infirmary. He brushed some stray hairs presumably back into place and hesitated there, like he wasn’t ready to let go yet.

She opened her mouth to speak, but a quiet melody of music started playing.

Dean dug his hands into Cas’ jacket pockets until he found a small rectangular device. He stared at it forlornly. “No. No No….” His voice fell to a pained whisper as his eyes darted back to the body.

“What’s wrong?”

“The kid’s calling,” Dean’s voice broke. “H-how do I tell her….no.” He tapped something on the screen and pocketed the device. Rubbing his neck, he argued, “I’m not going to upset her when he’ll be back….He’ll be back.”

“He has a child?” Mary’s voice was practically non existent.

“It’s complicated.”

Silently, they walked back the way they came and Mary didn’t fail to notice the way Dean refused to look in the direction of the wings. He pulled out a chair and sat.

Every muscle in Mary’s body felt twitchy. Closing her eyes, she didn’t move from where she stood in the room. She longed for home.

Why was she even here? For what purpose? From the very moment she laid eyes on this...Dean, nothing felt right. And that made her feel worse. She loved John, and Sammy, and Dean. Looking at this man made her feel like she was about to combust.

And that’s not his fault. She knew that, but Mary also knew that she literally was plucked from 1983. This was wrong. It didn’t matter how much this Dean wanted her here. She needed to go home.

Opening her eyes, she saw Dean leaning an elbow on the table. Sternly, his eyes were coldly fixed into space. Another one of those odd rectangles, she assumed now was a phone, he had it pressed against his ear.

“Crowley,” his pain was masked well. “I-Yeah, I know. Not dead. Long story. Get Rowena and meet me at the bunker now.” He hit the screen and let the phone slide a ways on the table.

Mary eyed him carefully. Dean hid his face in his hands, leaning over the table. “So….” She felt utterly useless while Dean lowered a hand to meet her stare. “What now?”

“Just give it a-”

And suddenly, there were two new people in the room. Mary stared at them in shock while the woman smacked the man’s arm with her bag.

“There better be a bloody good reason-” The woman growled until she finally turned to see Dean at the table. “How are you alive?” She rushed forward and placed a hand on his chest. “Where’s the bomb? I did not mess that up. My work is impeccable.”

Dean slapped her hand away, and she rolled her eyes before focusing her attention on Mary. The man did too, but his mouth twisted into a sickening smile.

He turned his attention to Dean. “Now how on Earth did you manage to bring dear old mummy back?”

“Amara,” Dean answered. He pointed his thumb in the woman’s direction. “The bomb’s gone. Chuck and her worked their crap out. Then-” His eyes turned to Mary. “-she decided to leave me a gift and they left.”

The man took a few steps towards Mary. Observing her far too closely. “So…why are we here? Celebration perhaps? I’m afraid to tell you that we already dug into the booze shortly after we last saw you.”

The woman didn’t move from where she stood, but she did take in every detail of the room that she could see. Her posture stiffened. “Where’s Samuel?”

“That’s why I called-”

“We don’t know,” Mary answered, surprising herself. “We got here and….” She gestured at the room around them. “It appears that something happened. Sam’s gone.”

The man rolled his eyes. “So why are you moping around? Who else did you manage to piss off recently?” He made his way over to the shelves where he knew there would still be some bottles stashed. “You wouldn’t suppose Lucifer limped his way back from where ever Amara threw him?”

Dean shot out of his chair. His pleading gaze locked onto the woman. “Can you track Sam?”

“I suppose,” the woman started. She crossed her arms. “I don’t understand why you needed me for something that simple. I’m not an on call service, and Fergus can work a spell that elementary.”

The man didn’t even look at the bottle he plucked off the shelf, and he took a big swig. Glaring, he turned on his heels. “Mother dearest, my day to day schedule is a teensy bit busy. Remember? Being a King is a full time job!”

Mary couldn’t handle another word. Her head felt like it was spinning. “Dean, who are these people? How did they just...appear in the room with us?”

“Oh, sorry sweetie. I’m Rowena.” The woman stepped forward with a smile Mary didn’t trust for a second. “And...that’s Fergus.”

“Crowley,” he barked. “I’m the King of Hell, and that’s my rotten, bitch of a mother.” His eyes flashed red. “It’s lovely to finally make your acquaintance. Dean and I go way back. We-”

Dean’s phone clocked Crowley right in the temple. The phone clattered into the floor and Crowley looked mildly annoyed, rubbing the side of his head. “I get that your Moose is missing, but what the hell was that?”

He started crossing the room towards Dean, but the toe of his shoe stepped on something that rolled under it. He looked down, and his cool demeanor cracked. “Where’s Castiel?”

Dean turned to Rowena. “Can magic resurrect an angel?”

Several emotions – confusion, grief, fear, and curiosity – flashed across her face. “I don’t think anyone’s ever had reason to try.”

“But can you swing that kind of mojo?”

She reached forward and lightly patted Dean’s cheek. “My dear, I can swing anything, but it’d be new magic. Old magic, new technique…..something that’s never been done before. It’ll take time.”

Dean waved towards the bookshelves. “The bunker’s resources are yours.”

Rowena’s eyes lit up, and she gave Dean another pat. “I like you so much more when you and your brother aren’t trying to shackle me, or kill me.”

She bounced off towards the shelves, but stopped the moment her eye caught the wings. Rowena frowned, “He really was a pretty bird. It would have been nice to see his wings….in another circumstance.”

Ignoring that, Dean pointed at Crowley. “Spell. Now.”

After that, Mary could only hear static. It wasn’t until she saw Cas, bloody and dead, in the infirmary that she even knew that she left the room.

"It's horrible, isn't it?"

Startled, Mary flung around on her heels ready for combat, but the room was still empty. Goosebumps broke out across her skin. "Who's there?"

There was a click of a tongue behind her. "You Winchesters can't ever just let yourselves be happy?"

Mary saw a woman in the room with her now, standing next to the bed where Cas laid. Worried lines creased her forehead. Slowly, her eyes met Mary's.

"The name's Billie."

"What are you?" Mary could feel the skin on the back of her neck prickle.

"A reaper."

A small, pained laugh escaped Mary. Of course. Another monster.

Ever since she could remember, her parents prepared her for the world. Nothing was glossed over or simplified. The ways of hunting were straightforward. You save people. Mothers. Fathers. Daughters. Sons. Friends. Loved ones. They needed protection from the things that disrupted the natural order. It was a line drawn in the sand, and one she couldn't afford to touch.

And yet, she never planned on giving her boys that lesson. Any of it. She feared to ask that question burning in her gut: when did that change?

Her mind circled back to the strange mother son duo. And why were her boys involved with demons, and witches, and......angels?

The reaper's stern expression softened. Almost pitiful. "You don't belong here."

Mary crossed her arms, discretely eyeing the room for possible weapons. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to put out the fires. Someone has to try, at least."

"I don't understand."

"You," Billie answered simply. "Amara made a mistake."

Her heartbeat quickened. From fear or hope, she wasn't entirely sure. "Could you send me home to my boys?"

Billie frowned.

"I don't understand," said a different voice. And then a brunette woman materialized.

Mary took a step back. Mentally, she wasn't sure how far she could run before she could reach help.

Billie held her head up high. "Amara."

The woman looked at Billie strangely. "Why are you interfering with my gift? I wasn't expecting to over hear this when I was checking in."

"It was a poorly thought out gift." Billie pointed at Mary. "You can't steal a soul from Heaven and expect the world to continue down the same path. There are consequences."

There was all hot wave and then all bitter tang on Mary's tongue. She thinks she bit it. Billie's words were echoing in her head. Dean looked at her the way he did because........she never saw past 1983, didn't she?

"A small price to pay for a gift this sweet," Amara answered simply. "Losing her tore a hole in Dean that he has never been able to mend. He can now."

"He can't," Mary whispered. Her whole body was shaking. It took all her focus to keep hearing Billie and Amara's voices.

Amara's eyebrows pinched together. "I'm still learning to understand humans. I need more to follow."

"I'm not a mender." The words rolled off her tongue. "I was raised to hunt, and kill, and hide...." Her gaze fell to her hands. She could still feel the blood under her nails, weighing her down. "I tried to be different. To be normal, but I can't stop destroying, and losing, and failing everyone I love."

The look on Amara's face softened. She sighed, "The world is far different now I'm told. I did this for both of you. A second chance. Don't you want to know your son?"

"I know my Dean," Mary snapped. Her hands curled into fists as tears beaded in her eyes. "He's 4 years old with freckles on his arms. He likes to spin in circles while he sings. And he cries when he can't find the birds he can hear chirping outside his bedroom window."

There was a quiet pause while Mary took several deep breaths. The thump of her heart made her chest ache. She sniffled. "I know....I know across this bunker is.......he's a stranger. He's been through hell and back and I badly just want to run the other way when I see him. I want my boys. I want to go home."

"Do you understand, yet?" Billie spoke to Amara. "Humans aren't your toys. They're unpredictable. Complicated."

"I think I'm starting to understand," Amara said like she was only partially considering it. She crossed over to the bed. Her head tilted, and she frowned. "What happened to the angel? Dean's attachment to him was immeasurable. Terrifyingly powerful." Her lip twitched.

"Like I said," Billie answered. "There are consequences. It wasn't his time, and yet, he's gone." Her gaze slid over to Mary. "Her time ended decades ago, and yet, she breathes."

Amara looked at Mary carefully. "Why?"

"I didn't know what he was. I acted on instinct."

"And now your son is going to do something cosmically stupid to fix this."

Mary blinked. "He's gonna try, but it's not like he's gonna get anywhere. His plan A was prayer."

Billie's stare rolled over to Amara. "Consequences."

“Can’t either of you bring him back? Then no drastic measures would be taken,” she argued. Mary’s eyes rested on Cas. He might even know where to find Sammy.

Billie raised an eyebrow. “And that’s how we got here in the first place. Tearing holes in the natural order of things.”

“It would soothe things,” Amara said. “Get us past this snag.”

“No.” Billie’s gaze moved between the two women. “This goes far beyond poisoned gifts.”

A chill settled into Mary’s bones. “Yellow eyes. Bringing John back so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Billie smiled. “Precisely, and since then your family has torn hole after hole.”

Mary’s jaw clenched. “No.” The flash of yellow burned into her memory made her stomach revolt.

Sympathetic, Billie sighed. “You’re not the only one who made deals, and-”

“Let me be the last.”

“How so?” Amara asked, curious.

“I...I think I understand what you were trying to do,” Mary began. “But, I’ve only caused more pain being here. I can’t make him happy. I….I-” Her mouth trembled, trying to find the right words. “I’m barely holding myself together. From the moment you put me here….I…” She looked at Billie. “You’re right. I don’t belong here. I want to go home.”

Billie crossed the room, stopping directly in front of Mary. She held her eye. “There’s no home to go back to. Only memories. If you stay, this is it. This is home with the men your boys became.”

Mary’s breath got stuck in her throat. “Then my decision is made for me.” I can never go home. “Fix what I broke, please.” Her gaze moved to Amara. “Give Dean back his heart.” And then it slid back to Billie. “And I’ll go with you. Let things continue the way they were meant to.”

“And what stops your boys from tearing more holes in the future?”

Mary sighed, trying to understand the angel her son carefully laid in this room. She couldn’t imagine how they found each other, and how her son came to care about him so completely. Hopefully, he could forgive her one day. Both of them. “Tell Dean, that if him or his brother decide to play god and mess with the fabric of things again…..the price will be to kill the person they love most. The price will be blood.”

Billie arched her eyebrows. “Your boys are good at surprising me, but I think that’ll suffice.”

Frowning, Amara stepped forward. “Are you sure? Dean will be upset.”

“His feelings will pass, but my discomfort won’t if I stay. I’ll never stop wanting to claw my way back to my boys. And that’s not fair….to the men that they are now.” She hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “And he’ll never forgive me for killing….”

“I’m sorry,” Amara said, and she sounded like she meant it. “Would it be alright if I visited your Heaven one day? I’d like to understand, and...I’d like to meet your boys.”

She wasn’t exactly sure what Amara meant by ‘your Heaven’ but she nodded.

Amara smiled warmly. “Thank you.”

“Are you ready?” Billie asked resting a hand on her arm.

Exhaling, Mary nodded. Surprisingly, the reaper’s touch was grounding. This was the calmest her mind felt in years. “Let’s go,” she said, closing her eyes.

Behind her, Mary heard a baby’s cry. Turning around, she was in her kitchen. The afternoon sun warmed her hair and her son stared at her from his highchair. Her mouth curled into a smile. “Sammy, there you are.”

[thekidultlife]

100 Things I Learned About Love | Vernon!Android AU

Pairing: Hansol Vernon Chwe x female!reader

Genre: SCI FI!! Action, Romance, Angst(?)

Word Count: 22.2k (yes another giant fic)

Warnings: A bit of death and gore

A/N: Well, I’m gonna say sorry first to the anon who requested a vernon android au when we were just starting this blog (like three yrs ago) and I only managed to finish it now;; 

So this fic is a continuation (and is in the same universe) of the Jihoon Android AU The Coldest Human; The Warmest Robot. It is primarly inspired by the book “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” by Philip K. Dick and the anime “Beatless”. This one here has also elements from Huxley’s “A Brand New World” (because I just love reading dystopian novels for some reason). I kind of mashed everything together to create the world! 

This will be the 2nd part of a four part series! Next would be Soonyoung’s story and then finally Joshua’s! This series kind of explores the whole world I created for it. Jihoon’s story introduced the whole world and the relationship between android and creator, while Hansol’s story explores the world of bounty hunters! I still haven’t decided fully with what to do with the rest but I hope you enjoy this one!!

Tag List: @haotheheckk, @smthingabtlove!! (because they asked to skskks)

If mornings had any color, it would be a disgusting green. Afternoons, electric orange. Midnights, as dark as crude oil. Cities were built upon lines of flickering yellow, as streets were colored with the void of space; dark, desolate, and meaningless.

Society is tinted with the same shades of emptiness. Dressed in uniform white body suits—hair covered entirely as it was deemed unhygienic—only the face bore the resemblance of the classic human being, as if it was a mask. Serene smiles and polite gestures were exchanged almost to a hundred times; laughter was hollow and chemically induced, as with tears and frowns. Frivolity and superficiality were the main trends. 

As what they appear to be, is what they are actually are.

Welcome to the West Martian colony!

“Here ya go. The case’s now yours, doll,” your boss tossed a folder filled with papers on the polyester table. “Choi quit a few days ago after retiring Woozi.”

Your head perked up immediately as soon as you heard the news; disbelief painted on your face.

“What? Why?” you asked, standing up with mouth agape. He was one of your idols, your role models; the reason why you went into this line of work.

“He’s not talkin’, doll. Sadly. Told me it’s personal. But can’t blame him really, this business is gettin’ old.”

Your boss with his thinning hair and scotch-tapped broken glasses, sipped from a coffee stained mug; seemingly too overused for years of constant coffee drinking.

Yet you loved this place—this pseudo-police department home to bounty hunters of West Mars, with its crumbling brittle plastic window blinds and its moldy paper odor—all a different world than that of the city around it. You loved how it was like something straight from an Earth comic book; classic, rustic, and homey; a sheer contrast to the minimalist style of the new century.

“So what do we have here? Some andy from the Orion branch?”

A finger flipped through the factsheet with brows raised and lips in a tiny pout as you scanned the information laid before you. There were several official photographs of the unit after it was made, but none were security cam shots.

“So, from the organization…SVT-class Type-12 Vernon. The name’s too Western.”

Your boss shrugged. “The org’s just pastin’ names on their andys like butter on bread, dolly.”

“Guess so. But this Vernon just looks someone my age,” you remarked, munching on the biscotti within your arm’s reach.

“It’s an andy, YN. A hundred years, and it’ll still look the same. Now off ya go, better start retiring ‘em or you’re gonna get retired first.”

Sighing, you stood up and brushed the crumbs off your skinny jeans. Bending over, you picked up your briefcase filled with a laser gun and a V-T scale equipment as you bid your boss a short goodbye.

In reality, you didn’t want to leave the home base.

One particular reason was that you’d be taking the hovercraft and start cruising around the godforsaken city, not that it believes in any god for as long as you could account for. The city was an abomination, a stubborn mulish creation born out of rejection of the old, ancient ways—ways that had led to the destruction of the Earth, ways you still hold on to despite migrating to Mars. Despite being physically present, and even born in the red planet, you knew your heart was still back on Earth. You were proud to be to be human, with ancestry from the noble home planet, and everything which diminishes humanity is your enemy.

—you paused.

Lips parted, eyes transfixed.

A thousand snowflakes suspended on the air as if you were in a colony-sized snow globe. You continued to wonder, because you had never before seen snow in its truest, purest form, and everything you knew about them was from data gathered on Earth.

You removed your glove to touch one floating. It was cold, you shivered. However, it did not melt as you expected it to be as it only glistened against the dark backdrop of the city night like holographic particles.

“What the—!”

As if deliberately cutting you off, the hovercraft swiveled across the air, its power flickering on and off until it was unable to balance itself, swerving up and down across the night sky. You held on to the metal rails, as the turbulence brought you to your knees, the alarm systems of the vehicle blaring on your ears.

“Fucking hell…!” You cursed, grabbing your laser gun as the vehicle plunged you towards the empty streets of the city. Fortunately enough, you were trained to encounter these sorts of problems and thus, you were able to jump towards the nearest rooftop before the hovercraft exploded upon impact to the asphalt road.

Sighing, you watched the flames burn plastic and metal as if you couldn’t believe what you had just experienced. Well, of course it was unbelievable. So far, the only adventure you had experienced in your whole life was your day-to-day job of ‘retiring’ andys, which could get a bit messy but those were on balmier days. Normally, it wouldn’t get pass you to laser a hole on an andy’s head, but if you’re doing it like ten to twenty times a week, it could get boring.

Bam—!!

Your thoughts were placed in a halt as several other hovercrafts continued to fall from the sky like shooting stars, except that people could get killed. But havoc proceeded as it did, where lines of self-driving cars suddenly powered on and chased after human beings who had heard the crash and checked what had happened.

“What the fuck is happening?” you whispered, eyes peering on the alley beneath you. Hopping on several rooftops and sliding down the gutter towards the ground, you cautiously approached the main road, seeing if there was anyone who was in trouble. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone loitering around at this hour anymore.

You checked your intercom for any news or announcements from your home base or from the AI government, yet there was none. As it were, your intercom was actually having trouble projecting a hologram or following any of your commands seemingly halfway hacked.

“Dammit, I couldn’t get hold of HQ,” you grumbled, running towards a nearby police android to alert its human command center. “Hey, could you get in touch with your district station? It’s getting chaotic here.”

Yet the android only stared at you, its eyes blank as if you were a mere holographic image. The artificial smile on its face, which was made to comfort humans interacting with it, seemed more sinister than welcoming. The prolonged silence causing your heart to thump in anxiety.

“Hey? You heard me? Tell the—”

“Hi there. I’m Akiro. What can I do to help you?” It’s human voice making shivers crawl down your skin.

“I said, alert the district station! Haven’t you detected the level of violence—”

“Hi there. I’m Akiro. What can I—Hi there. I’m Akiro—Akiro—Hi—Hi there. H-H-H-Hi-i-i-i—”

The malfunction was obvious in its speech. It wasn’t unusual for an android to malfunction but when it began moving closer and closer to you, you took a step back, dread treading on your spine. Androids made you uneasy as humans once felt ill at ease with clowns—its artificial expressions making its lack of a soul even more prominent, triggering your fight or flight response.

It continued to move towards you until a snowflake dropped on its head, stopping as if it was suddenly glued to the ground. You hesitantly walked closer to it, inspecting its dead eyes to see if it had returned to normal. Raising an arm, you reached for its control box hidden behind its neck.

It grabbed your wrist, without warning. You gasped and began struggling to release yourself from its vice grip, yet you knew how strong androids were.

“Fuck it!”

“Hi there—Hi—I’m A-A-A-Aki-Akiro,” the android continued talking as if its movements were controlled by a remote system.

You moved to reach for your laser gun at your back pocket but the android was swift enough to twist your arm in a lock on your back. It pushed you to the ground as you grit your teeth at the scrapes on your knees and elbows, but you couldn’t break free.

“What can I do to help you?”

You groaned. “Maybe letting go of my fucking arm?”

Gathering your wits, you pushed yourself off the ground, rolling sideways and then kicking the android who was thrown off-balance with your two feet. As it fell to the ground, you grabbed your laser gun and without hesitation, pulled the trigger to blast off its processor.

As the headless android dropped to the asphalt, you sighed in relief as the adrenaline continued to pump into your veins, breathing heavily from all the action. You didn’t understand why the android was behaving out of its initial program and attacking you, a human, who it was supposed to protect.

While you were resting, the glaring headlights of a self-driving car were flashed towards your direction.

Disoriented, you froze to the ground as you tried to make do of your situation and surroundings. However, just like the android, the car sped right towards you in its maximum speed, as if it was trying to kill you. As soon as you heard its tires screech, you willed yourself to move away as the car missed you in just a few centimeters—throwing you to the ground and slammed itself towards the nearby wall.

Without even letting you take a breath, an arm was encircled around your neck, making you unable to breathe; its grip tightening gradually. Two other androids—one a police android, the other a personal helper—faced you with their blank stares as if they were zombies ordered to kill any human on sight.

The helper android had your laser gun on its possession as it slowly aimed it on your head. Panic rose as you tried to remove the arm locking you in place. Mentally, you were cursing at how you had underestimated the situation and let yourself die under the hands of goddamn androids.

Silently, the android pulled the trigger and you braced yourself for impact.

Except it didn’t come.

Your eyes were forced open when you heard the sound of metal dropping to the ground. What you saw had your eyes widen in astonishment as another small disk stuck itself on the police android’s head and split it into individual pieces. In a few seconds, you were dropped onto the ground, choking on your knees as the pieces of the android holding you fell into heaps next to you.

“Are you okay?”

A warm voice asked as a hand was offered to you. You looked up to see doe-like eyes gazing at you with a curious but a worried expression. His slightly curly caramel colored locks fell to his forehead softly as if it were made of the finest materials.

You nodded silently, still stunned by everything happening around you.

When you didn’t take his hand, the mysterious man carried you on his back as he walked you away from the site. While you were being carried, you noticed how he was ‘destroying’ the approaching rogue androids with a disc-like device which would stick on their skin and eventually ‘disassembling’ them to several parts.

“W-who are you…?” you finally asked, your voice returning despite still being painful.

Grabbing another disk from his pocket, the guy hurled it towards an incoming self-driving car which had it stopping, its parts detaching themselves automatically.

“I’m called Hansol. The snowflakes are nanobots which hacks the AI in androids and cars and drives them into killing humans. Unfortunately, I don’t have the capabilities to stop it,” he replied, his voice kind of removed, which had you wondering if he was an android or not. “Though I think Jihoon can.”

“Then…this…this will all continue?” you asked unbelievingly. You didn’t want it to continue, of course. More people would die and you still weren’t sure to what extent the casualties are because of this sudden outbreak.

“The snowflakes will lose its power when its controller is far away. So far, Joshua is already gone from this area.”

“Joshua? An android?”

“Yeah. SVT-class Type-03 Joshua. We came here together, and I tried to convince him out of it, but he wants to test out his abilities.”

Having enough evidence, you pushed yourself away from Hansol and landed safely on the ground with an abhorrent look on your face.

Aiming your laser gun at him, you shouted. “You’re an android too, aren’t you?”

Hansol simply gazed at you with his piercing eyes—tempting you to retract your accusation.

“Yes, I am. SVT-class Type-12 Vernon,” he replied, then looking down on the ground as he scratched his nape. “I like the name Hansol better though, so I want to be called Hansol from now on.”

You grinned. Your prey presented itself right in front of you without you giving an ounce of an effort.

“I’m supposed to retire you, you know?” you remarked, still aiming the gun at him. “And I will.”

Hansol stared at you with a frown on his lips, obviously disliking the fact that he was about to ‘die’ tonight. In fact, he didn’t want to die. He had a lot of things he wanted to do, so many questions yet unanswered.

“I’m…I…I don’t know how to plead. The data is incomplete in the cloud, but, um…don’t shoot me…please,” Hansol replied as he raised his arms.

You were obviously taken aback by his plea. You couldn’t count how many androids begged for their lives because there were none. He was the first one who ever did it.

Shaking thoughts of doubt, you tried to reason with yourself.

Androids don’t plead. They escape. Kill.

The most efficient way out is what they do.

“How am I supposed to believe you?” you shouted back; your finger threatening to press on the trigger. “You might be using analog hack for all I know.”

He scratched his nape again, unable to give an appropriate answer. “Well…I guess I could only ask you to trust me.”

You laughed sarcastically. You have never seen an android use deception so badly.

“If that’s too much to ask, then I guess this is it,” he continued, looking at you again straight into the eyes with his evocative gaze.

You just couldn’t believe what you were hearing. For all the years you spent hunting androids, never had you encountered one who had basically given up without any chase or struggle, especially from one who had every capability to squash you like an ant. You couldn’t help the itch to ask.

“Why? Why give up?”

Hansol shrugged, his gaze on the yellow lines outlining the faraway city buildings. “If I fight back, I will hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You gazed right into his eyes for a moment, trying to gauge the truth in his words, trying to calculate if he was using analog hack against your weakness as a human being. You dislike androids but never had you seen one like him.

“How should I know that?” you shouted again; laser gun still aimed at him. “Using tricks like reverse psychology…I’ll give you an A+ for creativity.”

“I’m not lying,” the android instantly replied. “If you have to kill me, then there is nothing I could do. I made a vow to myself never to hurt humans because that’s the right thing to do. I don’t want to see anyone suffer because of what I did. For some reason, it pains me as well.”

If only you could see how wide your eyes were, or how your lips parted in disbelief the moment you heard him. It almost gave you goosebumps. The air that hung underneath his every word felt so real and heavy that you would have never thought it was uttered by a mere android.

Androids and morality? Fucking hell…who would’ve thought you’d string those words together in the same sentence.

He was more human than most people living in the city. An android—known for their lack of soul; born only to be enslaved by their own programming; without their own thoughts, their own convictions.

But here is one in front of you, willing to die for his own principles; saying it pains him to see you hurt. That is not what androids do. Not in a million years.

What the hell is he then?

You threw your arms up in the air and tucked the laser gun in its holster as you made one big, ugly groan.

“Oh fine! Fuck it! I give up!”

Whether or not he will run away or he will kill you, you didn’t care anymore. It was a risk. You blame your biological flaw to see human traits in objects if he ever did harm you, but whatever, you decided to trust him.

With a small smile and a tiny huff, Hansol walked towards you slowly.

Heart hammering against your chest, you were deathly afraid that he might twist your neck or blast a hole through your chest. You couldn’t be so sure with these androids.

As soon as he had reached you, Hansol placed a hand on top of your head; your eyes squeezed tightly shut as if trying to brace for something bad coming. Yet as soon as you felt his hand, you opened your eyes and gave him a quizzical look.

He only smiled.

“Thank you for trusting me.”

The following morning was the same as ever. Except, not.

“—last night which appears to be a massive AI hack on neighboring Sectors 3, 4 and 7—“

With eyes heavy and a cup of coffee, you pressed another button.

“—71 people dead and more than a thousand injured, hospitals are in full capacity as of the moment—“

Another press of a button.

“—and take a deep breath. Happiness is found within Mercer as we continue to ascend up on the hill—“

“What a load of crap,” you muttered, turning to another channel. It was still six in the morning and you were already in a painfully awful mood. It could’ve been easily fixed with a Penfield Mood Organ but that was another can of shit you’d rather not touch with a ten-foot pole.

“—Mrs. Kim?”

You hadn’t caught on with what the news anchor was asking Mrs. Kim, but you could already take a gander that it was definitely about last night.

“My husband…He was just…he was truly a hero,” Mrs. Kim answered, wrecked by staggered sobs and sniffling of noses. You continued to watch, wondering what had happened to Mr. Kim—crushed by a car? Ran down by a flaming rogue hovercraft? Murdered by an andy?

“Your husband a hero, Mrs. Kim?” The interviewer repeated, coaxing the other for details. You waited for the dramatic reply after Mrs. Kim had settled herself down from the crying fit she was having.

“Yes…someone was stealing our ducks last night—“

You paused.

“During the whole chaos?”

“Yes, sir,” she sniffed and you rolled your eyes. “He—he tried protecting them yet they murdered him! Those bunch of foul-hearted bastards! Our ducks! Our Muscovy ducks…they were fifty grand a piece—“

You switched the TV off, now more tired and irritated than you were when you had turned it on about an hour ago. If you were asked to name one trend which just tasted like shit to you, that would probably be the current craze over owning animals. The whole Mercerism thing was only running second to that.

“I, uh…made some pancakes,” a foreign but familiar voice interrupted your thoughts, making you turn your head towards the doorway. With your eyes set upon Vernon, or Hansol, as he liked to be called, you instantly recalled what had happened last night.

You wondered if your brain disappeared that time or your common sense simply deteriorated because there was no way you would let a half-a-million-dollar bounty money just run free. Not to mention that he has all the capabilities to decapitate you in a millisecond.

Inwardly groaning, you gave him a small glance as he waited for your response with sheer curiosity. At least he followed you to your apartment and now you have a free housekeeper.

But that was last night, this was today. You can certainly do something about it, but you weren’t really in the mood for it. A headache was threatening to split your brain into half and racking your brain about the moralities and the whys of your decision last night wouldn’t really help anyone.

“Oh, right, right,” you replied absentmindedly, removing yourself from the cover of your flannel blanket and walked towards the dining room of the small apartment your meager earnings could afford.

It was a simple place. White walls, dirty carpet, and a worn-out sofa which had seen better days. Kitchen was slightly okay—the once white tiles now yellowed with age; the grout covered in black mold of unknown origin. The view was horrendous; covered up by dark globs of factory shadows and the ever-present rumbling of the monorail as it passes by.

Being a bounty hunter wasn’t exactly a glamorous job. It wasn’t like you were the police, who, as a matter of fact, are now mostly made up of androids. A bounty hunter does the nitty-gritty jobs the police wouldn’t do; such as hunting androids. Yet you liked this job. Even if it was stupidly exhausting.

Settling on your chair, you gazed at the expertly done pancakes and bacon, sending wonderful scents of home to your senses. You wondered why you had never thought of getting a helper android for yourself with how convenient they are, yet considering the fact that one helper was an inch away of killing you last night, it was better that you hadn’t.

“I hope you like them,” Hansol said, placing a bottle of maple syrup on the table. “I searched the cloud and it says you liked pancakes and bacon.”

Awkwardly, you nodded at him and then looked down on the piping hot breakfast on your table. You continued to gaze at it, the burnt patterns on the pancake beginning to take form of an image in your head, and then back at Hansol who was just standing at the side.

“You don’t like it?” he asked, as soon as he noticed the blank look on your face, curious if the cloud made some mistake.

“N-no! It’s…it’s fine,” you replied, waving your hands to and fro. “I just, um…are you just going to stand there?”

Hansol raised his brows at your question, his doe eyes widening just a bit. “Ah, me? Yeah. Isn’t this the right way?”

“The right way?” you asked, your forehead creasing.

“Yeah, the right way. I’m an android so I can’t sit with you. I heard from the cloud.”

“Why not?”

Hansol shrugged, the kitchen towel in his hands hanging. “Heard it’s inappropriate according to human table etiquette. Besides I don’t need to eat and I don’t really get tired.”

Sighing, you rolled your eyes at his response. “Human standards, what a load of bull. You just standing there makes me uncomfortable. So, you either sit down or you scram.”

You could tell that he was definitely taken aback, and began wavering if he should follow you or not. In the end, Hansol was forced down on the chair in front of you with a nervous look, awkward in his seat as you continued to stare at him.

Finally acknowledging that everything was alright, you began to drip maple syrup on your pancakes. The android was only watching you and your actions—very typical android behavior; gathering data from its surroundings.

“So, you’re Hansol?” you began, slicing through the three-tiered pancake tower with a knife.

“Yeah. Vernon is my model name, but I want to go by my own name.”

You raised your brows at him, biting into a forkful of food. “Cool. You picked that name on your own?”

“Yeah. It was the name of a musician I liked, so I took it.”

“Oh,” was the only thing you could say, because deep inside your head, you were already in a state of confusion.

For all the years working as a bounty hunter, this was the first time you’ve ever seen an android want to name himself after a musician he liked. Hell, this was your first time seeing an android have preferences. Usually, they would reflect the preferences of the human being they were talking to, but you haven’t even said anything about yourself to him other than your name.

No. He probably accessed the cloud or something. Androids of his caliber usually have better access to the place data miners dump people’s personal information.

Is this how advanced the Nexus 9 really is? If so, this could potentially cause a stir among bounty hunters. If they can’t identify their prey, things could potentially end up disastrous.

“You do know I’m assigned to retire you? Or kill you, to be exact. Not sure why we’re still using euphemism towards damn machines but whatever,” you pushed on, curious of how he would respond, thinking if there was anything more to the Nexus 9.

“Yeah, you told me last night,” he replied immediately and at the most flippant way; as if he wasn’t talking about being killed by the person in front of him.

“And…you’re not worried?” you asked, eyeing him up and wondering what was currently running in his processor. “I could just whip out my laser gun and fire a hole through your head while I eat this pancake, you know?”

Hansol leaned his head to the side, looking as if he was trying to process an answer to your question.

“I’m not worried. I mean, if you wanted me dead, you would’ve done it already,” he replied, as a matter-of-fact.

“What if I’m just too lazy to do it today? I could do it any other day I want, any time I want, and the thing is, you robots can’t even predict it with your fancy algorithms,” you smirked at him, your prejudice against androids showing through.

Yet even with your provocations, Hansol remained calm.

“It doesn’t matter. The fact that you haven’t done it yet means a lot to me. That’s why I trust you.”

At his answer, you simply frowned; unamused that he rebutted you with a good response and by the time he replied, you had already ran out of rocks to throw at him. So, in the end, you simply scoffed and finished your pancake, leaving him by the dining table with an irate glare.

Hansol watched your retreating back as he began to clean up the mess on the table. He was truly being honest with his words—he trusted you, and if he dies at your hands, well, that was it. Even though he didn’t really want to think of that possibility.

It was strange that the thought of you betraying his trust hurt more than the thought of dying.

“I’m going to work now. Don’t even think about leaving this place,” you told him as soon as you returned from the bedroom, all geared up. “There are other bounty hunters out to get you, and I don’t want them to get my bounty money.”

Silently, Hansol nodded as he saw you pick up your work equipment and your laser gun in a manner that seemed routine. Before you took another step further however, you stared into his eyes, thinking, pondering what you were about to do.

Slowly, you raised your arm and allowed the laser gun on your hands to unfold, pointing towards his direction. You saw the crosshairs between his doe-like eyes—an image you frequently saw seconds before you blow a hole through an andy’s processor. A decision made in a fraction of a second can ultimately change your life—that if you simply pressed the trigger within your grasps, Hansol would no longer move, or talk, or look at you with evocative gazes.

At that moment, you had all the power between “life and death”, as he unquestioningly relinquished it all to you by simply standing there in his spot in front of the kitchen counter.

Hansol felt himself tense up despite his calm exterior. He could already see it, just after thinking about the possibility, yet he never thought reality felt more painfully sharp than his thoughts were.

Your fingers brushed against the trigger. Just one press and he will be gone and you will be rich. Just another day as a bounty hunter. Could you do it?

You sighed.

In the end, you lowered your gun and turned to the other direction as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll be late for work,” you simply remarked, more to yourself than to anyone and then left him there in the kitchen, still stunned. You wondered if your shoulders felt burdened because of the heavy gun or because of the decision you just made.

Quick footfalls echoed across the dreary hallway.

The place stunk like hospital antiseptic and muriatic acid; matching the dim-lit atmosphere illuminated by only a few incandescent bulbs hanging every two meters. There were glass windows every so often, and if you took your time to peer through, you would see rows and rows of human-sized cylinders filled with a greenish liquid; all connected by wires the size of your torso to a place you simply assumed was the power supply.

“What an ironic place to hide for an andy,” you remarked as you looked around. Your partner this time, by the name of Morrison, scoffed amusingly at your comment.

“Who would’ve guessed they’re in a fertilization plant?”

You frowned. “What a gloomy place to be born in.”

Exactly as the name suggested, fertilizations plants ‘manufacture’ children. While that is as disgusting as you thought it was, that is the reality of the world you live in. While there are a few rare exceptions, people no longer have sex—it was too animalistic, too impure of an act to participate in.

Thus, the solution to a declining population is just to make babies just like how factories make your easily reproducible mug sitting on your kitchen counter. You couldn’t even deny the awful truth that you were made in one of these factories (you know, just like your mug). And more disappointingly, there was truly no ethical problem, because the world today only worships one god: Purity, in its coldest and most cruel manifestation.

In the end, aren’t we simply androids as well? Just made up of blood and guts?

“So? Have you caught on to that SVT andy yet?”

Morrison suddenly asked, dragging you back from your inner thoughts. You took a double take.

“The what—?”

“The SVT-class andy,” he clarified, “you know, the Vernon one.”

The mere mention of his model name made you purse your lips in annoyance. If only you could say that he was in your apartment doing some arbitrary thing an android would do if they were left alone.

“Still nothing. I was supposed to do an initial search last night but after being caught in all that chaos, I just went straight home,” you lied, having no choice. There was no way you would let everyone know you have something worth half a million bucks in your dingy, totally unsecure apartment.

“Well, no one could have it easy with these military grades. They’re craftier than your average andy after all,” he shrugged, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “Remember when Choi Seungcheol took almost three months to locate SVT-class Woozi? Man, I could still remember coming with him to a dozen places just to look for leads.”

As soon as Morrison reminisced memories with the former chief, you feel a bit heavy hearted. You did look up to him as your hero.

“You ever knew why he left?” you asked.

Morrison only shrugged. “Some say he just got tired of this awful job. Some say he was getting married. Most of them are just gossip anyway.”

You only sighed. “I guess we might never know the truth.”

“C’mon! Choi wouldn’t want you depressed! Straighten those shoulders! We have an andy to face!” your partner smiled, again giving a strong shove on your back. “Today’s just a commercial grade escapee. It wouldn’t be that hard. Peyton had it already detained and ready for questioning.”

Sucking in a huge amount of air and exhaling loudly, you prepped yourself up for some wonderful, heart-palpitating action.

“Alright! Let get it!”

As soon as the both of you entered the room, which was definitely a locker room prepared by the factory staff for your visit, you could already see the subject sitting quietly in front of a steel table; a dim white bulb only giving light to the gloomy room. It was definitely a classic cult-style interrogation room you’ve seen in vintage silent films.

“Good day to you sir,” Morrison greeted as he set his fedora on top of the table and prepped his V-T scale. “I am Agent Will Morrison. You are under suspicion of being an android and we will be administering this test to confirm it or not.”

“I told him so many times already! I’m being framed! The manager hates me and he’s been spreading those rumors!” the man screamed, his face heavy with fear and anxiety.

“We’ll see. If that’s the truth, then there’s no need to worry,” you retorted back with a clipped tone.

You then placed your hands on his shoulders, asking him to wear specialized VR glasses and then carefully arranging the electrodes attached to a spectrometer on his face.

“Settle down now. You don’t want to affect the test results, right?”

At your cleverly concealed threats, the man stopped his outbursts and looked at you in fear. You simply smiled at him before giving Morrison the go signal.

Identifying and hunting androids almost every single day of your life, you couldn’t even count in your head how many times they went for this flimsy cover-up story. They probably thought they were being clever or something.

“So, Jonathan West, age 35 and working as a plumber in one of Sector 3’s fertilization plants, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied, unbeknownst to him, the test was already starting.

“You are accused as the android who committed the Palmaide Apartment murders wherein six people were discovered to be brutally murdered and then embedded inside the concrete walls of the apartment.”

“Sir! I’m not android! Please believe me! I have a wife and two kids….! I-I can’t possibly be the murderer!”

You slid unnoticed under the shadows beside Agent Peyton, although still nearby enough to the subject that it would be easy to subdue it down if it goes berserk.

Watching the test being conducted for the nth time, you could easily claim to have memorized all hundred and fifty questions in the questionnaire.

Most questions are practically the same—asking how you would react to certain and usually gruesome scenarios—all designed to gauge micro-expressions and reactions. It is a common belief that androids do not have these sophisticated and almost undetectable movements on your face. Hence, the electrodes.

“I want you to immerse yourself in a certain situation,” you could hear Morrison speak as he turned on the virtual reality system. “Tell me what you think of it.”

Here it comes. Your thoughts turned rancid as you recalled the contents of that video. It was made to intentionally cause distress in humans—limbs being torn, live vivisections, disgusting lobotomies and other gruesome things that could make your stomach lurch; and more importantly, it is intentionally shown to be done to people the subject knows in real life.

Tests such as the Voight-Kampff Scale however are hardly perfect. Humans are complex creatures and are fundamentally unpredictable variables. Different people react to one single scenario in a million different ways. Even if you are looking for signs of empathy—a true testament of humanity—not everyone exhibits it the same way.

That’s why, no matter how many times you’ve blasted a hole through an andy’s head, you would always have this unreasonable nagging feeling underneath your gut that screams you might be wrong. You might actually kill an innocent person.

As you stood there and studied Jonathan West, you realized that his expression turned from disturbed to one of sheer horror. It was quite easy to know, to be honest—he turned pale and looked as if he just wanted to pluck his eyes out and forget that he ever seen what he was seeing right now. It was too real to be simple analog hack.

“Sir…I-I…please make it stop! Please, please….I can’t look anymore,” He muttered weakly, looking as if he was really going to puke big time, which prompted Morrison to immediately close the virtual reality system.

The man was still panting when it was shut down; visibly distraught by what he had seen. Agent Peyton, who was silent during the whole ordeal, then went to the man and asked him if he was alright. In the end, Peyton gave him a glass of water before the test proceeded as it should.

In your opinion, after that display, the subject was already leaning to the ‘most likely human’ side of the spectrum. He wasn’t making red flags which could mark him as an android, though he had a few quirks such as making a rather hollow laugh. Some humans have that kind of laugh, so you didn’t really mind it.

There are days when the excitement of discovering an android wouldn’t really pay you a visit. Sometimes, humans are mistaken as androids either because of their personalities, or by people who simply don’t really like them. Just like how it was in this case.

After a series of more questions and tests, Morrison was also convinced that Jonathan West was human. Besides, the processor level of the android you were looking for wasn’t capable of doing such complex analog hacks.

Even after a deliberation between the three of you outside of the room, it became a unanimous decision to exonerate the subject of any of the accusations placed on him. While you were still a bit doubtful, both Morrison and Peyton—men of more experience than you have as a bounty hunter—agree that West was human and the rumors simply might have been caused by office politics.

“Mr. West, the three of us have finished deliberating and we have decided that you are indeed as human as you could be,” Morrison began, sitting on the same seat he had been for the past few hours.

The man let out a heavy sigh of relief as he made a bashful smile. “Oh my god! Thank you so much, my good sir! Thank you! Thank you!”

Studying the exchange just beside Morrison, you made a small smile. In the end, you didn’t make a mistake and he still had a chance to live. Accidentally killing someone just because of some careless assessment was something you’d rather not go through in your entire life.

“Well, we thank you for giving us your time,” Morrison said as he stood up and walked towards the man, extending a hand. “And we apologize for the inconvenience.”

West shook his hand as they walked towards the door with you and Peyton following closely behind. It was finally over, and you could finally think about what you’d have for lunch. It’s been a while since you had some simple sandwiches. Going for a Subway down 14th Street would be great.

Your eyes found themselves again watching the man and your partner Morrison. You can’t stop smiling at how peaceful the day had become, contrary to what you were expecting.

“It’s no problem, sir!” West exclaimed. “Thank you for trusting me.”

You halted. Your smile faltering.

Those words rang loudly like a deafening siren in your head.

Someone had said those exact same words to you the day before, but for some reason, right now, those words made you shiver in dread; fear dropping down the pits of your stomach.

You instantly averted your alarmed eyes towards West who had been looking back at you as well.

He gave you a blank look.

He knew. You knew.

In just a span of a few seconds, you immediately seized his wrist, twisting it behind his back before tackling him to the ground. You saw the glint of a concealed knife in West’s hands before it flew away to some indiscriminate area of the room.

The man struggled yet he was pinned down by your whole body weight, unable to move—a tactic you learned through experience by subduing andys day in and day out.

Without a second thought, you grabbed your laser gun and fired it center of his forehead. The man lay still in a matter of seconds.

Your heart was beating wildly. You had finally done it.

For a moment, you feared that you might see blood and pieces of bone after the bright light of the laser dissipated. Yet when you finally stood up, huffing, the only thing you saw was the bright red glow of metal heated to melting point.

The two men beside you only stared at the motionless body of the andy with stunned expressions in their faces; unable to believe that they had almost made a grave mistake.

Everything it did was an incredible display of analog hacking.

Because androids are incapable of creating actual emotion, they simply react to the environment and transmit the appropriate response as dictated by the cloud and by their own programming as a means to communicate properly with humans. Using this technique and the fatal flaw of humans to anthropomorphize objects, androids are able to give the impression of ‘humanness’, of having a soul. That is analog hacking.

By ‘hacking’ through people’s ability to empathize, androids are able to deceive, to give a feeling that they too have a soul. It almost killed all of you today.

Eventually, your colleagues’ stares migrated to your direction while you were still gathering yourself.

“What?” was the only response you gave.

It was only until later that noon, as the three of you enjoyed a wonderful lunch at the 14th Street sandwich joint, when Morrison finally put an end to his curiosity.

“Say, YN,” he began, his mouth full of sandwich. “That andy earlier. How’d you know it wasn’t human?”

You were in the middle of sipping from your can of soda when he opened that question. You could only scrunch your brows together, looking for the right way to answer the question.

“Well…” you replied, unsure of how to say it. “I just…I guess I just knew. There’s really no secret behind it. We just exchanged looks and I knew he was about to stab you.”

Peyton nodded. “Pure instincts, huh?”

You knew he was only acknowledging your reason, yet to you, it felt like he was questioning whether you were telling the truth or not. And to be perfectly honest, you were lying by omission.

Because after all, you can’t just tell them that the way that andy said those words and the way Hansol said it, felt so drastically different.

It only took as far as thirty minutes for Hansol to get bored of your characterless apartment and began to get curious about the city of West Mars. Peeking from your dirty windows, all he could see were the tall skyscrapers, fluorescing still despite the morning sunlight, and the numerous utilitarian-looking factories doting the Martian landscape.

He guessed this was a neighborhood no one really fancied to go to, other than those who actually live here—the specials, the dirty, the outcasts. Even after a few hundred centuries, human civilization barely took one foot forward. Even after the Earth had died and most of the population moved to space colonies, life was still the same. There were still oppressors and the oppressed.

Hansol clutched his tightening chest; his eyes still transfixed at the smoke belching from the factory chimneys.

It had been months since he began to feel something. At first there were small bursts of ‘pressure’ in his chest, just some unexplainable pangs of ‘pain’, ‘guilt’, and ‘conscience’— it all began when his fellow android Joshua started murdering people. Six people; a family.

Hansol couldn’t bear to watch it and tried to stop him, yet he also got embedded into the wall with them. The only thing saving him was his ‘second brain’ or a backup processor installed only in him, which was supposed to aid him in his tactical assessments. Otherwise, he’d be dead as well.

He tried to save those people, but he had been a few hours late. In the end, he could only call the police. All this time, whenever he recalled that certain memory, he had to hold himself together. All sorts of things swirled inside him that he thought he might have had a hydraulic leak, but there was nothing physically wrong with him upon inspection.

Jihoon called it ‘emotion’, as soon as Hansol contacted him—born from the rumored empathy organ installed inside all the SVT-class androids. It blurred the lines between human and machine. Hansol couldn’t understand it, even until now, he didn’t have a tight grasp on such an abstract concept. All he knew is that he didn’t want to see anyone get hurt because of him anymore.

Just like those six people.

Caught himself in reverie, Hansol decided to explore the city some more. Staying in your apartment seemed to be making him…reflect. If that was the right word.

He silently apologized to you as soon as he stepped out of the front door, a bit guilty that he had to disobey. But he wanted to do a few things first, and most of them involves going out of your apartment. If he could just go out and then be back before you were back from work, it was as if he never went out in the first place. Well, at least to you.

Going wherever his feet took him, Hansol found himself out of the slums and in the middle of the busy city center.

The tall buildings from the distance were now like crystal towers before him, extending to eternal heights to the heavens beyond. The bright lights of large TV screens flashed in vivid technicolor as it sang ads for the miraculous Penfield Mood Organ, while the throngs of people clad in all white body suits walked across the glowing asphalts beneath their feet.

The thrum of city life vibrated all throughout the crossing like a magnetic field pulsing at every nanosecond; almost undetectable by an indifferent crowd, yet to Hansol, it was almost as if electromagnetic waves were coursing through his skin.

He placed his hand over his chest; trying to ground himself as soon as he felt his heart (if he did have one) soar over something much bigger than life. He tried to put his finger on what to call it, but he guessed the closest he could describe it would be something akin to what humans call ‘wonder’, or ‘amazement’ or ‘astonishment’.

 “Good morning, sir! I am Akito, the police android! Is there anything I can help you with?”

Just like that, Hansol’s bubble was popped as soon as the android appeared. It seemed like he had been standing in the middle of the city center for far too long that it made him quite suspicious.

“No, I…I’m about to go anyway. Thanks, Akito,” Hansol replied, still quite disoriented from the sudden intrusion, but left his place eventually.

Wandering around the area, he noticed a variety of shops and stores, and even some that he didn’t really understand what for. Yet when he was browsing over the different designs for the white body suits most people seemed to enjoy wearing (not like it had other designs), he found what he was looking for.

Well, first on the agenda, then.

After a rather filling lunch, you and your colleagues went out of the restaurant and hopped into the company hovercraft to go back to the office. Since the whole hunting went surprisingly well and ended earlier than expected, there weren’t any hunting jobs scheduled for the rest of the day.

As you laughed at the joke Morrison cracked about how Peyton didn’t utter a single word for the first six months when he joined the company, you spotted a rather familiar figure from the distance.

You frowned and inwardly groaned.

“Boys, I think I have a few errands to do in the city center. You go on ahead,” you told them as they looked at you in bewilderment but reluctantly agreed.

“Well if that’s the case, see you tomorrow, YN,” Morrison replied as he wore his hat again. “Good work today!”

“Thanks! Good working with you two as well!” you told them and the pointed at Peyton playfully. “Better start working on your goodbyes too. See ya!”

As soon as there where gone, making sure that their hovercraft were already a few miles away from where you were standing, you marched irately at the subject of your irritation. It seemed he had moved places from where you had first seen him but you doubted if he had seen you as well.  

“Mister, mister! Do that again!”

It did take time for you to finally locate him since he was pretty much easy to spot relative to the city dwellers who were in all-white body suits. Voices of children were getting louder as you went deeper inside the nearby park, and finally, you caught up to him blowing bubbles in sizes no one would probably be able to do other than him.

“Hansol,” you called behind his back, your hands on your hips and frown on your face. “Why’s your hair black?”

Eventually he turned around and saw your rather upset expression which made him avert his gaze back to the ground. The children around him (and yes they were wearing those stupid body suits) looked at the both of you in wonder, surprised that their entertainment aka Hansol had stopped blowing bubbles all of the sudden.

“Who’s she, mister?” a child asked, probably confused at your sudden appearance. “Your girlfriend?”

“Oh, no,” Hansol replied, ready to explain everything. “I’m actually an android—”

Letting him finish was something you’d rather not do, so you immediately covered his mouth.

“Sorry kids, we’ve gotta go now!” You apologized and then managed to drag him out of the park, away from all those children.

Reaching a faraway bench at a rather remote place, you made him sit and contemplate about what he had done. Hansol seemed to know what was wrong and proceeded to sulk at the far end of the bench with a downcast look.

“Well?” you began, your arms crossed and your brows furrowed. Standing in front of him like that, it only made him feel a bit more guilty.

“I, uh…I’m really sorry…” he replied, still unable to look at you. He didn’t calculate the fact that you might be in the same area as well thus his plan had failed. He should consider attaching a GPS tracker on you.

“Didn’t I specifically tell you to not go out of the apartment?” you reprimanded him. “You could be seen by my colleagues and you’d be dead!”

“Sorry…I just wanted to change my appearance so I could hide more easily.”

You groaned and sighed heavily.

“You could be killed! You were lucky it was me who caught you the other night! You think other bounty hunters would just magically trust you if you asked them pretty please?”

“Then why did you?”

Hansol threw back a question right at you like a curve ball and it hit you hard right at the gut. Taken aback, you simply pursed your lips and glared at him.

“Please don’t ask me that,” you replied and then abruptly turned around. “C’mon. Let’s go back.”

 Watching your retreating back, just like this morning, Hansol silently regarded you and your response. In the end however, he couldn’t understand anything, and eventually rose up from his seat and followed you home.

“Tell me more about yourself.”

You asked one day, as the both of you enjoyed a quiet breakfast on a Sunday morning.

It was clear to you that Hansol was not your ordinary android. He does things and says things which clearly were not ‘android’ by nature. As someone who identifies and hunts down androids for a living, you thought you already knew how to distinguish a human being from an android, but considering your confusion towards Hansol, it seems like you clearly do not.

Which is why, you had to ask.

“Me? Uhh…” Hansol scratched the nape of his neck, thinking what parts of himself should he tell you because there really was a lot of information about him. “Well…I’m an android designed for tactical assessments.”

You raised your brow at him, clearly pondering why that was the first thing he wished to share with you. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, I, uh…I gather data, consolidate them and then give an assessment of what choices the enemy could make during battle. I just give information and it’s Jihoon who would give the orders and the others would do the fighting. I’m a non-combatant type.”

“So that’s why your only weapon are those disks. They’re for self-defense,” you replied, leaning back. “Anything else?”

Hansol only stared at you, caught off guard that he had to provide more. “Uh…my birthday is on February 18.”

You nodded at him, unsure how his processor actually works, because it seems like he’s been giving you random things about him. “You mean your manufacturing date. Andys don’t give birth.”

“You could say it like that, but I like to think it’s my birthday,” he replied, and you arched another brow at him as you took a sip from your cup of coffee.

“Why?” you asked. The more Hansol talked, the more you sink into bewilderment. You regarded yourself as someone who could tell the difference between an android and a human being, yet right now, as you conversed with Hansol, that fine line was beginning to get blurry.

“I think,” he began, snatching you away from your thoughts, “I think there’s just something special with a birthday than a manufacturing date. It’s like…how do I say this…if you have a birthday, you matter as an existence. You were born to leave a mark in this world. As an android who isn’t exactly ‘alive’, I’d like to know what mark I would leave.”

Utterly speechless was what you were after you had heard Hansol’s explanation. It was weird, truly weird how he had the self-awareness to question his purpose, and you were sitting there wondering if any of the androids you had retired before had thoughts like this. If they did, you weren’t so different to a murderer as you thought you were.

As guilt began to spiral inside your gut, you tried to rationalize your concerns. Hansol was just different, probably using a novel way to use analog hack. Yeah, he’s probably analog hacking you—pretending to have deeper thinking and consciousness which he could easily access through the cloud. That scenario had the highest probability to be true.

“Oh, wow,” you replied hesitantly, gazing at the empty plate before you. “I—uh…I don’t think I’ve ever met an android like you.”

“Really?” he asked, his voice seemingly curious. “I guess maybe because we have an up-to-date processor….”

“Maybe you’re right.” You quietly scoffed. Are the organization’s labs really that advanced to even mimic human thought?

Smiling, you stood up from your seat. “Why don’t we take a breath of fresh air?”

Hansol glanced at you with a questioning look. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, just a trip to the grocery store.”

Hansol had several presumptions before he arrived to the West Martian Colony, before he had met you.

From what he had gathered in the cloud, human beings are always unpredictable. They were not run by any program, any command, not like his kind who were bound to the beck and call of a few strings of code. Humans follow their “heart” or whatever that means. They are selfish and cold, kind and warm.

Hansol was definitely apprehensive. He had never met any human being aside from his creator and a few scientists who would come and go into the labs like a cold draft. Yet despite that, Hansol knew deep down, that he doesn’t hate people. He certainly doesn’t hate you.

His brothers’ views towards humans were varying however. Hoshi, or Soonyoung was a lot more carefree, though he believed in the traditional roles of an android servant and a human master. Jihoon was too preoccupied with figuring what was wrong with him that he didn’t seem to care about them (though it seems like he has that sorted out now, according to his last status report). On the other hand, Joshua disliked people. He always made it clear to his brothers that humans were weak and that androids had long outpaced their creators.

Clear enough to make him murder people just to show you how he looks down on them.

It was interesting listening to them in past back in the labs. However, now that he had escaped and had met you, these memories began to resurface in his processor. Hansol had no idea why, to be honest. Was it because he was beginning to interact with a real human being in a much closer environment? That would be an interesting theory to explore, but right now, Hansol had to focus on where you were taking him.

“—are you sure you haven’t met another android before?” you asked him, the first part of your question he hadn’t caught. “I mean; don’t you have that info in your cloud?”

Hansol hummed, scratching his head. “I have my brothers and I met a few police androids, but other than that, I don’t have much experience. As for the cloud, it only stores pure information. We cannot derive actual experience from it.”

“Ah, I guess that’s right,” you replied, realizing that maybe it was like gathering information about something only through a book. It’s likely not going to make anyone instantly good at something.

For a while now, Hansol had been studying you. He was quiet about it, but he always wondered why you haven’t retired him yet. It was no secret that he was your assigned target, but surely, a mere plea from that night wouldn’t change your mind in an instant. Humans are so unpredictable.

“Hmm…we should sit here,” you suddenly said, stopping before a stone bench. “This has a great view of the shopping plaza.”

As you had said, it indeed held a spectacular view of the massive plaza just a few steps in front of you. There were several boutiques, cafes, stores of every shape and size—yet of course, it was as drab as it can be.

Everything was white, as Hansol stared at one giant building, from the stone ground to the shops, buildings and even the latex suits people wore as they walk around. The only redeeming feature it had were the ever-changing holographic ads shown on the white walls.

“Looks stupid, doesn’t it?” you remarked as you seated yourself on the bench with a cold expression.

“Is that why you’re not wearing those suits?” he asked as he sat beside you, glancing at the plaza.

“Everyone else in this city is stupid,” you told him, ignoring his question.

“Why?”

You snorted loudly. “Look at them Hansol. Why are they wearing those stupid suits from head to toe?  Look at how they’re all smiling so happily as if everything’s alright. It’s stupid.”

Hansol continued to stare at them, gazing at every face, every being in that plaza. Of course, he could remember all of them because of his impressive processor, yet despite that, he couldn’t understand what you were trying to say.

“But those are just clothes,” he replied, shrugging.

“Not sure if an andy like you would get it. But it’s more than a fashion trend. It’s an ideology.”

Ideology. He turned that word over and over inside his mind, trying to milk out anything substantial from that word alone. A way of thinking. What are these people thinking then whenever they decide to wear those body suits? Why would they do that?

Your questions seemed to have opened a whole new world for Hansol to explore. Human ideology; there were so many of that from the old century alone—liberalism, fascism, socialism. Why do humans subscribe to these thoughts and beliefs? And what would that mean to him as an android? Would he be able to subscribe to an ideology? Or had he always believed in one, just never realizing it?

If that’s the case, would he be able to find his purpose in it?

“What do they believe in?” he asked you, now fascinated.

Glad that he asked, you immediately replied.

“Purity. Cleanliness. Everything that is old is dirty, bad, and everything that is new is clean, good. I mean, I could understand why. It’s our fault that the Earth is basically a one big garbage dump. Maybe we just want to wash our hands clean from all of that guilt. I don’t know.”

“Why is that stupid then? I think that’s a valid reason.”

“That’s true,” you replied. “But that was how it was back then. It used to be an ideology. Now, after hundreds of years had passed, it had been so ingrained into the culture that no one really asks why is clean good and dirty, bad. People are being ostracized because of this and no one really understands why. It just seemed to have become desensitized. It’s true meaning forgotten.”

“What do you mean?”

You scoffed. “Ask one of them why they where those body suits and I bet you they would answer it with something like ‘it’s clean’ or some sort of bullshit. Ask why the Penfield mood organ is such a huge trend nowadays, or why they would submit themselves to chemicals just to induce happiness.”

“People couldn’t bear to feel any longer. Emotions have become so burdensome that it’s just easier to change your mood with one press of a button. They just do whatever other people do and, in the end, it became some sort of a mob mentality.”

For once, Hansol saw true despair in your eyes. Even if you appear to hate how the world is, he knew you were just deeply sad at how things ended up. Anger is after all, expressed when you are too sad to cry.

It struck a cord inside his processor, for some reason, as he felt the urge to do something to make you feel a little bit better. He didn’t understand why, but he knew what he should do.

Silently, Hansol took your hand, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours. He felt warm, was what you immediately thought while you anticipated what he was about to do.

“It must be lonely living in this city. There are people all around you but they all feel like ghosts. Passing by, passing through the walls and then disappear without a trace,” he began as he kept on gazing at your connected hands, talking as if he was expressing his actual thoughts.

“Hansol…?”

“That’s why, as this city becomes more and more alienating…” he continued; his honest eyes piercing right through yours. “I’ll be your friend.”

For a moment, you gazed at him, too stunned to even utter a sound. It was just a simple proposal of friendship, yet why does your heart feel like it’ll burst from the seams?

“W-why…?” you asked, becoming more and more conscious about how he was gripping your hand so tightly; his thumb brushing your skin in slow soothing circles.

“Why, you ask…I’m not even sure myself, but,” he replied, “Maybe I just want to make that sad look on your face disappear.”

You pursed your lips, head totally blank for any response.

You shouldn’t just say that to anyone, you know?

Not to me who’ve never felt something like this before.

The sound of lasers fired. Muffled voices; indiscernible against the background battle noise.

It was another day out in the field, and you were lucky there were five of you hunting a military grade android. During hunts like this, you don’t usually share the earn; it was all for the experience. Besides, how much would you even get if the bounty was divided upon five people?

You zeroed in on your prey. Shooting a laser beam at its direction, you deliberately let it miss as the android dodged it. When it had stopped running, you slid on the gravel and kicked its feet off the ground, then turned around faster than it could recover. As you aimed your two laser guns at it, the image of Hansol flashed in your brain, which made you hesitate to press the trigger.

“YN! Watch your head!”

To return to your apartment with a bandaged forehead and a huge frown on your face was enough to let the door slam behind you. It was both stupid and humiliating to falter in the middle of a simple mission like that, especially if the reason was the android living in your apartment.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. You were supposed to retire Hansol several months before yet here you are still hung up and getting more and more sentimental towards him as the days pass by.

You couldn’t help it. You were only human.

If he wakes you up in the morning with a smile and some PB & J; if he talks about his sudden interest in various things with an eager look; if he greets you as you return home from work, dinner on the table and then asking you about your day; if he holds your hand and says he’ll be your friend—could you even stop yourself from softening up?

You were clearly angry with yourself to let this whole thing get to this point.

Were you really that lonely that you would even find comfort in an android?

Tossing all of your equipment—V-T scale, laser gun and leather bag—on your worn-out sofa, you went straight to your bedroom and found the subject of your frustrations, sitting on the bed and looking at the window with a rather pondering gaze.

“Say, YN,” Hansol started, without even waiting another second to pass by. He probably knew that you were going home the moment you left the office.

“What?” you replied, unbuckling the holsters on your belt and all the safety gear you had on your body. “I’m not in a good mood so make it quick. I just got hammered by an android.”

Before he replied to you, Hansol decided to turn around and look at you with those eyes that seem to gouge the truth from the depths of your being. It made you halt all your fussing and returned his stare back at him.

“How do you know the difference between an android and a human being?” he asked which made you turn your head slightly. What a simple question to ask a bounty hunter.

“Well, isn’t that obvious?” you replied as you placed your hands over your hips. “Humans have empathy while androids don’t.”

“But what if something was invented to make android experience empathy? What then?”

You blinked several times at his second question and then began chuckling. “You mean an empathy organ? Sorry to burst your bubble but that’s not even real. It’s an urban legend.”

Hansol made a side eye as he pondered what he was going to say next, his expression basically unchanged.

“Just hypothetically speaking, if an empathy organ does exist, how would you know the difference now?”

“Eh…if we’re hypothetically speaking, then I don’t really know. I wouldn’t be able to hunt anymore if that’s the case. I can’t risk making a mistake and kill someone, not to mention that if androids begin crying before me and beg me for their lives, I wouldn’t be able to shoot them at all.”

As soon as you uttered those words, you paused and contemplated.

You gazed back at him—realization dawning on you; your eyes wide with incredulity.

It was no longer a matter of if. Someone had already begged you for their life and you didn’t shoot them.

No. No way.

That’s not possible.

At your silence, Hansol never confirmed or denied your realization and simply stared at you with those powerful eyes; waiting for you to finally digest it all.

“This isn’t hypothetical at all, is it?” you finally asked, your expression uneasy.

“No, it isn’t.”

You sighed frustratingly but it made sense.

If Hansol really has an empathy organ, everything he did—asking you to trust him, his un-Android like responses, him holding your hand—everything made so much sense. And while it did provide some answers, it gave you more questions as well.

First of all…

“H-How is that possible?!”

Hansol shrugged at your sudden outburst. “That’s why we escaped from the organization. We don’t know how it works or if it’s really installed inside of us, so we went our separate ways.”

“So…so…!” you pointed your finger at him, still incredulous. “There’s more of you?”

“Yeah. All of the SVT-class androids have empathy organs installed while we were being made in the organization’s laboratories. At least that’s how Jihoon suspected it.”

“Jihoon?”

“Yes. SVT-class Type-07 Woozi. He stayed behind the labs to search for our original creator. He did find her daughter and they’re working on an experiment to test the validity and the effectivity of the empathy organ.”

For a minute you felt like the ground was going to swallow you whole. There was too much go on, too much information that you can’t properly process them all. Falling on your knees to the ground as you leaned against the bed for support, you felt like you were going to have an aneurysm.

“YN? Are you ok?” Hansol dashed to your side in Mach speed, his hand easily finding your back.

For Pete’s sake! You’re the reason why I’m not ok!!

“I’ll get you a glass of water and some ice for your head injury. It seems like it could be the cause of your headache,” he told you and the disappeared towards the kitchen, completely oblivious of your dilemma.

Goddamn it.

Didn’t Choi Seungcheol retire Woozi already? If the andy’s still alive then did he fail the mission? If he did, then why did he confirm that he retired Woozi?

And then it seems like there are more empathy organs out there. Not to mention I’m living with an andy who’s supposed to have one.

It wasn’t even two minutes before Hansol was back with a glass of water which you promptly drank, and then allowed him to settle himself behind you while he was giving a cold compress to your head—all done without complaints because you were too lost in your thoughts.

No. No. No.

An empathy organ is just a myth! Something like the Holy Grail or something! It’s impossible for Hansol to have one!

But…it just fits so well with all the strange things he had done so far! Who android would hold your hand just because you looked sad?

Wait. Get yourself together, YN.

Hansol is just a weird android.

He’s totally chill and a bit spaced out. He sometimes says really deep stuff and then comforts you so gently that your problems just melt away.

That’s…That’s what androids are supposed to be right?

Without even realizing, Hansol had already wrapped his arms around your waist. It was only until you were done with your internal monologue that you realized the warmth you felt from behind you.

“Wha-what are you doing!” You exclaimed, though still unable to move because of how he was holding on to you tightly.

“Oh, this?” he began, completely oblivious to your embarrassment. “I’m embracing you. I wanted to know if it feels as warm as what the cloud tells me.”

You groaned, struggling to get free. “Don’t patronize me! I know what a freakin’ hug is! Now, let me go!”

Instead of opening his arms, Hansol instead pulled you closer to him, making you flush even more. “Sorry. Just endure it a bit longer. The data I’ve gathered is still incomplete. Besides, now that you know about the empathy organ, it’s safe for me to test it on you, right?”

“What! I never—”

As soon as you met his eyes, you were unable to finish the rest of your words. There he was again with those eyes that just makes you screech into a complete halt. It was so intense that it almost gave you shivers down your spine.

“Do you really hate it?” he asked again. “I’ll let you go.”

You allowed a few moments to pass by—the sound of passing cars and the incessant ticking of the clock was what you could hear, as well as your faint breaths.

“Fine. Do whatever you like,” you finally conceded and leaned against chest. It was warm.

With a calm smile, he nuzzled against your shoulder. “How did you get that injury?”

“Oh, this? I almost got my head whacked by an android,” you replied plainly, almost forgetting that you were actually having a bad day because of what had happened.

“That’s unusual.”

“You could say that again. I just got…distracted.”

Hansol raised his brows at your reply; noting the pause between your words. Since he cannot place his chin on your head, he decided to prop himself on your shoulder, his lips near your ear.

“Was it because of me?”

You jumped at the sound of his voice being so near to your ear. It made you ticklish and pulled back away from him just for a tiny bit.

“You’re too close!” you exclaimed, flushed and uncharacteristically nervous. “And I didn’t get distracted because of you!”

He sighed at your response. “Sorry. But I’m glad it wasn’t because me. I’ll be troubled if I distract you from your work.”

Pursing your lips, you only returned to your original position in silence. You have been distracted me from work since the beginning.

“Maybe I can help you?” Hansol continued talking when you didn’t reply.

“With what?” you chuckled cynically. “Hunting androids? Don’t you feel bad about killing your own kind?”

“Well, some humans don’t feel bad if they kill other people. What’s the difference?”

You scoffed. “Touché,”

“I’ll help you if you’re in trouble.” He pressed on and you could only groan in exasperation. While he tends to be a bit spacey, he can also be stubborn. It’s not like you can stop him if you refused.  

“You’re weirdly obstinate—”

About to add an explanation, your words were cut short however by the doorbell. You stood up to get it but got dizzy from the sudden change that Hansol decided that you better sit down and rest.

As he padded his way across the living room, Hansol opened the door to see no one except for a bag of food on the ground. He tried to look around and assessed the surroundings, yet he found nothing suspicious.

Confused, he leaned his head to the side and eventually decided to take the food inside. It didn’t seem harmful.

“Wonder who that was,” he muttered before going back inside.

As a freeloader, Hansol took it upon himself the responsibility of maintaining your apartment in tip-top shape. From the floor to the ceiling; to every nook and cranny he finds—he made sure that everything was sparkling clean to the point that you thought you went to a different apartment when you went home.

It was easy to pretend he was a regular every day helper android since he always kept to himself at most times, and other than visiting a regular antique vinyl shop in an indefinite area of the city, he never really did anything out of the blue.

Hansol had two leeks, one in each hand as he assessed which one was the best using his state-of-the-art processor. The engineers at the labs probably never thought his military grade processor would be used in this way but it was extremely helpful. He tossed the one on his left to his grocery cart and the other back to the stall—concluding that it was already at 40% freshness and most of the chlorophyll and other biominerals had died out.

One of his responsibilities was making sure that groceries and other supplies in your apartment were well-stocked. And while it did make you furious at how he easily hacked into your bank account to access money, you eventually gave him permission to go on grocery trips for you because of how he efficiently did everything.

He turned his cart to the left, its squeaky rusting wheels making it hard to keep it moving in a straight line.

Next stop was the chicken aisle. He remembers seeing a photo of you in the cloud as you enjoyed a bucket of chicken nuggets, and he plans to make them for dinner that night. Halting the troublesome cart before the freezers, Hansol checked the display if there were any of the chicken nuggets he wanted to buy.

“This one’s too expensive…” he told himself in contemplation.

“Hi! I’m Martin of Fresh Daily Chicken! How may I help you?”

And there were those androids again.

Hansol knew they were just following their program but it was getting on his nerves. They kept on bothering him every single time he went out that it was very tempting to just dissemble them in front of his eyes.

“I’m fine, Martin. You can go help someone else,” he replied, wondering if there was an edge to his tone as he returned the chicken back to the freezer.

Instead of leaving though, Martin gripped Hansol’s arm tightly, as the other stopped and glared at the android with suspicion. In a beat, Hansol flicked his hand away and stood still for a moment, assessing the situation at hand. Nanoseconds pass, he finally realized what was happening.

“Joshua. What are you doing here?”

His voice was filled with animosity; his eyes like fire flickering. Hansol knew his brother was up to no good as soon as he showed up using a hacked android.

“Sharp as ever, aren’t we?” the android replied, the tone of its usual monotonous voice reflecting the malice of the hacker behind it all. “I guess I should expect no less from an android made to evaluate things.”

Hansol wasn’t having any of this small talk. “If you don’t have anything important to say, I’m leaving.”

“And what? Play house with your bounty hunter?” the android sneered. “She doesn’t trust you as much as you trust her, you know?”

Hansol threw daggers at the android with his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

It made a rather hollow chuckle. “Did you forget how despicable humans are? She’s planning on retiring you and your pleading won’t help you now. That’s why…”

“That’s why what?” Hansol felt uneasy.

“That’s why I’ll help you finish her off first.”

Like the wind howling, the android’s words felt like a siren blaring right into his ears. If he had any blood, it would’ve been boiling by now. If only looks could kill, the android would’ve been long dead.

“No. I don’t need your help and I never will. Get fuck out of here before I—”

“Fine, fine,” it responded rather dismissively, unperturbed by Hansol’s threats. “But if you need me, I’m just one call away.” 

And just like that, Joshua disappeared. “Hi! I’m Martin of Fresh Daily Chicken! How may I help you?”

Hnasol sighed and returned to his grocery shopping.

“Empathy organ?”

A boisterous laugh was all you could hear across the otherwise silent donut shop. You frowned, clearly annoyed.

“Didn’t know ya believe in those bullshit urban legends, YN.” Your boss replied, crumbs falling down his shirt, and thus has been looked at disgustedly by the people around you.

“Just answer the damn question, please,” you replied, giving him a not-too-pleased expression.

“What can I say?” he shrugged, “It ain’t real.”

You hold off clicking your tongue, and instead averted your gaze to the window beside you, towards the quiet concrete and asphalt streets of West Mars. Thinking that you could achieve something by bribing your boss with donuts, was a dashed dream. He easily dismissed the notion, now munching on some more donuts you had bought with your own pay.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s real or not. I just want to hear what you know about it,” you insisted, pushing your plate of donuts to his side.

He gulped in some coffee. “Well, for one, we don’t know where it is. Rumors say it was made by an engineer in the org, and they died without telling anyone.”

An engineer in the org? You felt like you have two pieces of the puzzle right below your nose, yet you couldn’t wad through the multitude of memories you had.

“Some say it was silently waiting in that engineer’s lab, but not gonna lie, doll, I myself don’t think it’s in there. Can’t be too easy,” he eagerly chomped on a bavarian. “It was prolly never built, kinda a blueprint of some sort.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Your boss chuckled again. “It’s just not possible! Look, have you ever heard of the phrase ‘good in theory but not in practice’? It’s just like that. You can’t build something science can’t even understand.”

You slumped on your chair, disappointed at his replies.

“C’mon now, doll. Stop digging around urban legends and focus on getting more andys to retire,” he continued when you didn’t reply. “Besides, you still got that SVT andy on your plate, don’t ya? Better set your eyes on that. These military grades ain’t just your ordinary tin foil man.”

Sighing, you silently berated yourself for letting this situation go out of hand.

“Alright. I’m still working on it though.”

You really weren’t. The fact that Hansol was still alive and kicking after several months since you the assignment dropped to your lap was proof that you were procrastinating. And becoming weaker.

You cursed yourself.

“Just a little warning for you. These andys, like the SVT line, are notoriously good at analog hacking. So, do be careful with handling them. Just because they told you you’re friends, ain’t gonna stop them from killin’ you when it suits them. They’re smarter than you’d expect.”

Pursing your lips, you felt your boss’ words weigh down upon you like a pile of stones.

You shouldn’t have trusted Hansol.

It was a gamble you shouldn’t have made in the first place.

The sun was already high and bright; blinding your eyes with its garish lighting as you stood before an android you just made into Swiss cheese with the number of holes you created a few seconds ago. Kicking off the dead weight, you decided to find the other one.

Another day out in the field means another chance to falter and fail even in a simple mission. You had already hesitated once and it had cost you a head injury. If you hesitate again, what would it cost you this time around?

It was getting into your nerves.

Was it truly wise to trust Hansol all this time?

Even if he had no intention of hurting you, it was your job to retire runaway andys before they harm anyone. Therefore, it makes sense to shoot him dead with a laser gun; no questions asked.

Then what was stopping you?

You stalked the andy a few meters away from you like a lion in a hunt; eyes laser focused and ears picking up every minute shuffle. The laser guns on both your hands were ready to shoot yet it wasn’t the right time or place.

Running a few meters away, you shot a few laser beams into the air; the sound echoing across the apartment rooftops in resounding waves. Your target tensed up; alarmed at how the sound was nearby.

You laid your trap.

The android began calculating the most efficient way out and then stood up from its hiding place, unaware that it was the moment you were waiting for. It jumped towards the nearest building and crouched beside a water tank, sniffing the air of your presence.

You grinned. “Looking for me?”

The android looked up, its eyes blank but you knew it was surprised. With two laser guns on both your hands, you aimed at it from the top of the water tank, the sun casting a glare over you. Lunging from its position, it made a narrowing escape as it sacrificed one leg to a laser beam.

It was all over.

You caught up and then threw it to the ground with one harsh kick. Stepping over its torso; effectively pinning it down, you took one good look.

“Did you know that it takes about three minutes for the Nexus 7 processor to calculate the next best move?” you told the android, despite knowing it wouldn’t really listen to you. “Enough time for me to set you up.”

“In the past, it only took you a minute.”

The android rebuked you, making you scrunch up your brows. How the hell did it know that?

“You’ve grown weaker, bounty hunter,” it continued, a grin creeping up to its lips; making its rather soulless expression more unnerving. “Could it be that you like us now?”

“Shut up,” you replied, aiming the two guns at its head. “That’s not going to stop me from retiring you.”

“What if I beg for my life then? Will you spare me now?”

You stopped.

The hands clutching your guns became unsteady. Its words zeroed in at your predicament just like how you had obliterated its leg with numerous laser beams—mocking you; taunting you with your weakness for Hansol.

“You think you could separate androids into your moralistic categories of good and bad? That android is only using you, you know? Like poison, gradually weakening your resolve until you could no longer pick up your laser gun. And when that time comes, he would strike and he will kill you.”

Your temper flared up.

You pressed the triggers furiously, your foot holding it still as laser after laser shot through its head. Even if the head was no longer recognizable, you continued to shoot just to please the rage and frustration weighing inside of you.

As the concrete beneath your feet began to weaken, you eventually stopped; realizing what you were doing all this time. Breaths heavy and eyes wide, you stared at the android which became, more or less, bits and pieces of burnt metal and hydraulic cables.

It still irritated you, so kicked it as far as you could so you wouldn’t be able to see it.

When you returned to the office to hand over the post-hunt report, Morrison was waiting for you t your desk; the serious and alarmed look on his face making you anxious.

“Morrison,” you acknowledged him, tossing your report to your table as well as your various work equipment. “What brings you here?”

“YN. We need to talk,” he replied, his tone of voice not so different that you had originally assumed which only heightened the tension of the situation.

As you followed behind him, you wondered what he wanted—was it about your dwindling work performance? Are you getting fired?

You only knew the answer to your questions when he stopped by a deserted hallway and then faced you. It was all your fears could ever hope for.

“Please tell me YN, that the person living in your apartment isn’t the SVT andy, Vernon.”

Your heart, along with your gut immediately dropped.

“W-what…”

“A few months ago, I saw you with someone walking around the city. I thought it was your boyfriend so I ignored it. The other day however, I heard you got injured so I went and delivered you dinner. That’s when I realized that the person you’re with was the SVT andy.”

If only the ground could swallow you whole. If only you could disappear at that exact moment. You had no explanation. You had been found out. You had nothing in your defense and the only thing you could do was hang your head low and avert your gaze out of guilt and shame.

“YN…”

“I’m sorry…” you replied, voice just above a whisper.

“Is that andy holding you hostage? Is it threatening you?” Morrison asked out of concern as soon as he saw you. “I could help—”

“No. This is my own doing,” you replied. “This is my own fault.”

“Then…why?” he asked. “Among all of us here, you were the one who hated them the most. Have you become sentimental towards them?”

“How the hell would I know!” You screamed as you tremble in both rage and despair. “Do I look like I’m enjoying it right now? Look at how weak I’ve become! Look how I almost died just because I hesitated to pull the trigger!”

“YN…I—”

“Shut up. All of you shut up,” you cut him off. “This is my problem and I’ll solve it on my own.”

Turning to the side, you marched down the hallway and left Morrison stunned and worried about you.

You tightened your fists until your knuckles turned white. Guilt, shame, anger—everything swirled inside of you like a thick soup; slowly pushing you downwards to a spiral of turmoil.

Androids would always be androids no matter what they say. Hansol was only using the way he knew he would survive. Even if it meant deceiving you.

You were angry.

More to yourself than anybody however.

How could you let yourself be swayed by an android’s sweet talking? You felt like an idiot; trusting his words, getting soft and sentimental for a mere android. You were weak and you hated it. Like slow moving magma, your rage was scalding you from the inside until you could no longer bear it. You pushed pass the entrance way and escaped to the streets of West Mars.

How could you be so susceptible? How could you allow him to easily manipulate you using your own desperate need for companionship? How could you allow yourself to succumb to such a baser kind of human emotion?

As a bounty hunter, you should’ve tossed all of them aside a long time ago. You should’ve been erased that weakness when you first began.

Yes, it was lonely. But in order to succeed, one must be alone on top of the mountain with no one to depend on.

You allowed the day to pass you by. As the afternoon became night and the flashing lights of the city returned to illuminate the streets with animations at a million frames per second, you sat high above a building and watch it al unfold like flowers blooming at night. As the dark skies slowly encroached the sunset reflecting the red dunes of Mars, you waited for the exact moment to solve all of your problems.

Problems of your own doing is something you have to solve by yourself. It was your fault that you believed in him when you clearly knew you shouldn’t have. Even if it weighs your heart, the guilt you felt was heavier.

You shouldn’t have allowed things to get to this point. Thus, you reap what you sow.

Head still swimming, you returned to your apartment at the wee hours of the morning. It was the perfect time; the calculated time—because you knew Hansol was at the living room, charging up next to a wireless charging station he himself had built. You saw him at that exact position; sitting, leaning against the wall with head hung low as a circular light glowed underneath the skin of his nape.

You knew what you have to do.

He was defenseless before you; asleep and unaware of what you are about to do. It was perfect this way— he couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t feel anything.

As you looked at his sleeping figure, you couldn’t help but notice how his now dark hair tumbling against his forehead in a soft caress, how his long eyelashes padded gently across his skin, how his soft breaths echoed across the room. Even at these last moments, he still caught you off guard.

Yet beautiful things erode and fade away like the fleeting spring.

You raised the laser gun to his forehead, your finger already by the trigger.

You can do it YN. Just one press and he’ll be gone. All your problems will be gone, and you’ll be able to return to your everyday life. You’ve done this so many times already.

He’s only an android.

‘…Vernon is my model name, but I want to go by my own name.’

He can be easily manufactured again and again like a replaceable object.

‘…As an android who isn’t exactly ‘alive’, I’d like to know what mark I would leave.’

Your hands trembled as your chest tightened into a vice grip. You couldn’t breathe.

Stop it.

He’s only using you for his own means. You don’t matter to him.

‘I’ll be your friend.’

‘Maybe I just want to make that sad look on your face disappear.’

He looked so peaceful, so innocent and so forgiving. Not like you who had been dirtied by the sins of humanity. You knew that even if you shot him, he would still smile and say ‘I understand.’

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!

He’s just faking everything. He’s just deceiving you YN.

‘Thank you for trusting me.’

You screamed one painful cry; your knees giving way and sunk to the carpet in a thud. Hands propping you up as tears continued to stream down your face, you couldn’t stop crying all the pain you held inside for all these years. It was too painful.

You can’t do it.

“Just kill me now, goddamn it!” you shouted yet your eyes were looking at the floor, too scared to know if he was awake or not. “If you’re planning to kill me eventually, then do it now! Kill me now while I still trust you!”

In the midst of your endless sobs, you felt strong arms pull you into a tight embrace; wrapping you with all the love and warmth he could muster in one single action. You could only bury yourself to his chest, clutching to his shirt as if you were holding on to him for support.

“Kill me now, Hansol…”

“I won’t kill you YN. I have no intentions of ever hurting you,” he whispered as he brushed your hair gently with his fingers.

“How could you fucking say that!” you exclaimed; screams muffled. “I keep on hurting you! Hell, I even pointed a gun to you while you were sleeping! How…how could you just forgive me like that…”

“You only did what you needed to do, and if you need to kill me, then I wouldn’t mind dying. I understand that there are things you must sacrifice.”

As soon as you heard those words, you looked up to him with aghast. You could see that despite what he had said, you saw a flicker of pain in his eyes; a sadness that was accepted because there are things you simply cannot change.

“W-why…?” you asked as your heart poured out for him. “Why are you saying that even though it hurts you…?”

Hansol made a small smile and wiped away the tear stains away from your cheeks. “Because you’re the first person who ever trusted me, and it made me so happy to stay by your side all this time. That’s why even if it hurts, I feel relieved that I can at least make you happy in return.”

Stabbing pain filled your chest as if you were being pierced through by laser beams numerous times. You could feel yourself tremble as tears threatened to spill from your eyes once again; grasping to his shirt as if he might slip away any time soon.

“You fucking idiot…!” you muttered through your sobs. “You think I can still retire you after saying that? I can’t do it. I can’t…Hansol…I don’t know how or why but you matter so much to me now.”

His hand that was on your cheeks continued to caress you as gently as he could; not letting you go until you stopped crying. For some reason, he felt touched that you were pouring out all of your thoughts to him among all people in the world.

“I always kept myself so busy all this time just to distract me from all the loneliness I was feeling. I always try to be tough and cold so that my emotions wouldn’t get the best of me. But…but you showed me something I had thrown away a long time ago. You cared for me even though I tried to kill you so many times and it hurts so much how you are able to forgive me like that. I don’t deserve any of these, Hansol. I don’t deserve you.”

As he comforted you, he could feel his chest swell with so much emotion. You were crying for him, and he couldn’t help but share a bit of that pain as well. Picking up your hand, he slowly intertwined his fingers around yours and gazed at you with those eyes that easily seized you; body and soul.

“I feel like I should be saying something now but I don’t know what,” he whispered. “That’s why, I’ll just show you how I feel.”

Cupping your cheek with his hand, Hansol slowly reduced the distance between the two of you until his lips met yours in a soft and gentle kiss. It was warm and peaceful and light—as if everything which held you down were released and swept away by the cool breeze. You held on to his hand tightly, never letting go of this exact moment as you etched it vividly into your memory.

As the both of you pulled away, you gave him a small bashful smile.

“I think ‘I like you’ would be the best thing to say,” you whispered to him as he gave a toothy grin.

“You finally smiled,” he remarked as he allowed your foreheads to touch.

“Because of you.”

The both of you stayed that way until you felt your heart calm down. That night seemed to have uprooted all of your being—everything that you have built upon yourself for all these years was turned upside down. It was like a transformation; yet rather than frightening, it felt cathartic in some sense.

“Say, YN,” Hansol started, breaking the companiable silence the two of you shared. “Why did you become a bounty hunter?”

“Hm?” you hummed, gazing at your carpet as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Good question. Why did I become a bounty hunter?”

“You don’t know the answer?”

“I do know why,” you replied as you became more contemplative. “I think I was just too angry at the world. Angry that I was all alone; angry that no one really cared. So, I searched for ways to release that anger. That’s when I found myself wanting to be a bounty hunter.”

He pulled you closer, nuzzling to your shoulder; wanting to give comfort to the both of you. “Did you grow up like that?”

Amused by his question, you chuckled. “The thing is, when you are made from a glass incubator, it feels like you’re an artificial existence. Even if there are parents or siblings, most of them just kind of want to play house or something. When they’re done, you get thrown out. That’s it. And somehow just like that, I ended up all alone.”

Hansol was quiet, feeling like you weren’t done talking yet.

“When I met you…when I got to spend time with you, it felt like I was in a foreign territory. I wasn’t used being taken care of. It’s always just me so, I was scared as fuck that maybe this wonderful thing wouldn’t really last. That maybe you were just deceiving me and I was being an idiot for believing that life would finally give me some slack.”

You continued. “That’s why, I thought…let’s just end this with my own two hands. That way I can still have my dignity intact.”

As soon those words left your lips, the android embracing you hugged you tighter—a silent declaration that he was never going to let you go; that you deserved better and he will give everything just to make you happy.

“I don’t think I can ever leave you, YN. I was lucky that it was you who I met that night. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to understand myself or what I was feeling. I wouldn’t be able to experience a normal everyday life if I hadn’t met you. You have become someone important to me as well.”

At that night, as you finally fell asleep on Hansol’s shoulders, he easily carried you to your bed and gently laid you there without making a sound. Unable to resist, he slipped under the covers and silently watched your chest breathing in and out.

It was the first time he felt this way. It was unbelievable.

Combing your hair as softly as he could, Hansol contemplated this future with you. He was incredibly happy, if that was how the beautiful feeling in his chest should be called—how you embraced him tightly, how you grinned at him and held his hand. Those were things he could never forget.

With that said, he had to ensure that everything would stay as it is as long as it could. Using the built-in network among the SVT-line androids, he made a call.

Beep. Beep.

Click.

“Hello, brother? It’s me, Hansol. I need your help.”

The sun was still shining like any other day; as if it was unbothered by the egregious happenings of your life. Just like how it was during your first day as a bounty hunter.

Yet everything was different now. The anger that you held on to for far too long was released to the polluted city air just like scattered ashes of a bygone age. Now you have to rebuild yourself from scratch; to start anew and live differently than what you were doing all these years. Yet you weren’t alone this time, you had Hansol to support you along the way as the both of you rediscover life and the whole point of it.

That’s why it’s important to cut the few loose strings you had and tie them securely so they wouldn’t unravel in the future.

It was your last day on the job. Your last hunt.

“YN.”

You heard Morrison call you, turning to the direction where you had heard him. You were about to leave with your hovercraft to the designated location where the andy was reported yet he had stopped before you ever could.

“Last time, I—”

“It’s ok,” you cut him off. “I think I needed it to realize what I truly want to do with my life. Being a bounty hunter taught me a lot but I guess we just overgrow things.”

“Are you sure?” he asked you.

“Yes, you could say I was happy with my decision.” You scratched the nape of your neck. “You know, I think I understand now why Choi Seungcheol left.”

Morrison grinned. “Oh, really now?”

“Yeah. I think he realized the same thing as I did,” you replied, hands on your pockets. You just can’t live with anger in your heart.

Your partner genuinely smiled at you and give you a pat on the back. “Well then, it was great working with you, YN. You’ve been phenomenal.”

“Thank you. It was a pleasure working with you as well Morrison,” you grinned. “Now, time to go for my last hunt.”

“Good luck. Don’t go easy on the andy now,” he replied while you hopped into your hovercraft.

“You bet I won’t,” you replied, smiling. “Well, see you later then!”

With those words, you turned on the hovercraft as it slowly ascended to the skies. You could see down below Morrison who was looking up at you with a bittersweet smile on his face. This business was indeed dying.

“Alright. Time for my swan song.”

Your destination for today was in Sector 12, where all the warehouses and cargo facilities were located as they enter the West Martian colony. The andy in question was a normal escapee posing as a cargo boy—which was as common as it could get.

You hoped that your last andy should’ve at least been a little more challenging. But alas, you can’t have everything.

Turning the steering wheel to the side, you avoided a tall building and continued cruising through the sector with nothing much in mind. That is until something entered the hovercraft; making it shake through the skies like a rogue vehicle.

You clung to the wheel as you braced the impact, avoiding getting tossed to the air like a pancake. Still recovering from the shock, you were greeted by a punch which completely obliterated the hovercraft’s UI and had just missed your head by a hair.

Turning around, you saw that it was the android you were supposed to retire today—seemingly fallen from god knows where to your lap. Just like how Hansol just came to you that night. Lucky.

“Don’t underestimate me, fucker,” you exclaimed as you grabbed its arm with both your hands and levered it with your shoulder to the air, sending it flying to one of the buildings below. Taking your two trusty laser guns, you jumped off of the already derailing hovercraft before it plummeted to the ground in an explosion of fire and smoke.

Landing safely to one of the rooftops, you spotted the andy running away from you.

“Hey! Don’t get cowardly now!”

Shouting, you continued to shoot laser beams at its direction, pissed that it was playing some game of tag. With a head start of a few meters and an exceptional speed, there was no way you could ever catch up to an android. The only way you could ever gain an advantage was to play the strategy game.

Disappearing from view, you hid yourself as you pursued it; minding your distance so it wouldn’t be able to detect your presence with any of its scanners. Since the andy you were after had a Nexus 6 processor, it can see you through thermal readings which had a scanning radius of a few meters.

Confused of your vanishing act, the android in question stopped running and looked around. There was no sign of you yet you can see it using a special set of goggles which was luckily inside your pocket than in the hovercraft.

As it walked in search of you, you fired your laser guns to the distance which predictably alarmed the android and dashed to where it came from. And just like that, you were able to lay your ambush—jumping out from high ground and trapping it in place.

When do they even learn? You’ve done this technique so many times that it was hardly clever strategy to you anymore.

You shot it with your laser gun, missing its head in just a few centimeters. That however, was a fatal mistake as it swerved your leg around, tripping you to the ground in the process. Without stopping, the android then aimed for your head with its fist which could’ve easily broke your skull if not for the fact that you rolled out of the way just in time.

Even if your head was still reeling and you were still on the ground, you kicked its torso with both your feet as it staggered and lost balance. You ran off somewhere, picking up both your laser guns as it continued to pursue you.

Man, I judged this way too early.

Now that the tables have turned, the both you found yourselves inside a warehouse complex devoid of any human or andy. It was kind of strange that there was no one in sight except for the both of you, yet you shouldn’t really be wondering about that when an andy is after you with a huge metal pipe.

Now that you think about it, why was it even running after you? And why did it attack you in the first place? Shouldn’t it be running away from you?

You couldn’t find time to answer those questions when a pipe was hurled at your direction, hitting the cargo container you were hiding behind and piercing through the metal. You could’ve died if not for your quick reflexes. Clearly annoyed at being in the defensive, you faced the android square on and fired your laser guns at it as fast as you could.

A laser beam hit it on its chest and then on its legs, creating rather large gaping holes on its body. When you were near enough, you kicked it hard; crashing against the doors of the warehouse which opened upon impact. In one final blow, you shot through its processor at point blank.

It fell down to the ground in one swoop. It was all over. The final hunt was done.

“YN…?”

You heard your name being called by a familiar voice you never expected to hear while you were in the middle of a hunt. In an instant, you turned your head and saw with great surprise the person you had trusted the most.

“Hansol? What are you doing here?”

“No, what are you doing here?” he answered back. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“Looks like the final guest has arrived.” A figure from the shadows appeared; a gentle expression was on his face yet there was something dark looming just underneath his presence. “Took me some time to get you moving but looks like it went well.”

“Joshua, what’s the meaning of this?” Hansol asked, his eyes dark like coal; brimming with suspicion and fury.

“Joshua? Isn’t he one of your brothers and wasn’t he the one responsible for the AI hack that night?” You asked Hansol with incredulity bearing in your eyes.

You were standing there in the midst of it all, mouth ajar and eyes wide; unable to follow what was happening. You didn’t understand why Hansol was there or why he seemed to dislike his brother. If anything, it all seemed to suspicious.

“You’re right, YN. I am one of Hansol’s brothers and the AI hack was my work,” the android calmly replied which made you feel uneasy.

“And there’s no meaning at all, brother. I just wanted to meet YN,” he replied, shrugging with a carefree smile. “And besides, you did ask for my help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help. I came because you threatened to hurt her.”

Hurt me? You dared to take a look at Joshua who seemed to notice your apprehension yet only smiled so serenely—making it even more menacing.

“Ah, as honest as ever, huh?” Joshua replied as he pocketed his hands. “Or not.”

There was no denying that Hansol gazed at Joshua with contempt; the first time you have ever seen him display such a negative emotion. You now wondered what Joshua had done in order to push Hansol, who was as kind as ever, to treat him that way.

“Did you forget what happened to that family of six a few months ago? You know, that one in Palmaide.”

Joshua continued when Hansol refused to reply. You blinked several times at his words, feeling like you were familiar with the story one way or another. At the mere mention of the memory, Hansol immediately grit his teeth; sending death glares to the other android.

“Oh? Why are you looking at me like that?” Joshua asked, and then grinned, a malicious lilt in his voice appearing all of the sudden. “You didn’t tell YN, did you?”

“Tell me what?” you answered back with a clipped tone. “Tell me what, Hansol?”

In the midst of your questions, Hansol could only furrow his brow and purse his lips. He turned his head to the side, unable to face you.

“I-I…I’m sorry. I just…I always wanted to tell you…” he began, his voice unsteady.

“What is it?” you asked again, completely alarmed and afraid of what he might say.

“I—”

“He’s partly responsible for six deaths in the Palmaide Apartments.”

Joshua was the one who answered for him; malaise dripping from every word like thick poison. You could only gaze at him with disbelief and turned to Hansol for an explanation yet he couldn’t even look at you.

“Is that true, Hansol?” you asked, your voice a mere whisper; smelling the scent of betrayal.

“I…I didn’t want to hurt them,” he answered you as he trembled like a leaf in the wind. “Joshua was—”

“I did most of the killing but he just stood there, you know? Watching as I sliced open everyone and bury them to the wall,” Joshua interrupted. “Why the wall you ask? Don’t you think human guts look pretty when displayed?”

“You sick fucker!”

You pointed both laser guns to Joshua who only looked at you curiously even though you were shaking with anger. He seemed totally unperturbed by everything; a testament that he was far from sane.

“You shouldn’t be pointing your gun at me,” he replied as he leaned his head to the side. “Hansol was only lying to you, you know…saying he cares about you. Soon enough, I’ll be dissecting you and he’ll just watch me do it with those eyes you love so much.”

You wondered if the empathy organ really exists; wondering if Joshua had one or if Hansol had one. They could really be deceiving you for all you know. Back and forth, you tossed possibilities and motives inside your head, unsure of who to believe.

In the end, you gradually moved the guns to Hansol’s direction; your eyes meeting his. He looked hurt, but you could never really tell if that was real or something faked. Even if you had so many years of experience, the true test of your instincts was at that exact moment. It was only you who could determine who to trust.

Joshua grinned at the whole situation.

“You, move!”

You ordered which Hansol promptly followed, walking to the left and in front of Joshua. Still with the guns pointed at him, you continued to shout.

“Hansol, explain to me what happened.”

With your demands, Hansol flinched and then bit his lip, scared of what you would say if he told you the truth yet obeyed you nonetheless.

“At that time, I was so shocked—I just…I didn’t know what to do,” he began as he fiddled with his fingers. “I tried to stop Joshua…and we got into a fight. I lost and the next thing I knew I was in the wall as well…”

“YN, I’m…I’m really sorry…I-I—” he continued as his voice trembled and his heart beating wildly. “I didn’t know what you’ll say. I tried to save them but I was too late…the whole thing…it scares me sometimes. I don’t want it to happen ever again. That’s why I want to protect people as much as I can…”

About to say something, the sound of slow clapping stopped you from continuing. You gazed at Joshua who was looking at the whole thing with an amused expression.

“How heroic. You can’t obviously fall for that, YN, can you?” the android remarked, his arrogance obvious. “Don’t you think it’s now time to shoot?”

“You’re right,” you replied with such a cool and calm voice; as if a decision had finally dawned on you.

Hansol feared for the worst but like he said, there was nothing he could do if you decide to kill him. If that’s what makes you happy, then he understands. If that will make you more at peace, then he can forgive you. It hurts but it hurts him more if he sees you in despair.

You breathed in, and then breathed out. With eyes that seem to pierce right through Hansol’s being, you gazed at him with those clear looks as you pointed your gun at him.

“Keep still!”

You shouted at Hansol while the other tensed up. It was not a moment to falter.

In a heartbeat, you pressed both triggers. Hansol closed his eyes and braced for the impact. Even with death at his doorstep, he can proudly say that he loves you.

“You bitch!”

Hansol could hear Joshua curse from behind him, prompting him to open both of his eyes and realize what you had just done.

Shooting two laser beams at Hansol’s direction, you deliberately missed it a few centimeters off so it would instead hit Joshua, who was right behind him. The other was of course fuming mad. Before Hansol could reorient himself however, you grabbed his hand and began running.

“I’ve seen way better acting than yours, motherfucker!” You screamed with delight as you saw Joshua bending over to a partially burnt arm and leg; throwing murderous glances at you.

“What…?” Hansol asked but you only grinned at him, squeezing his hand.

“Let’s go! I don’t think I can wipe him out with just that.”

Dashing towards the exit, you were stopped by throes of androids who blocked the way. You clicked your tongue—totally forgetting that Joshua’s main ability was designed to overwhelm the opponent— and tried to find another way out.

“Ah, even that wouldn’t work, huh?” the voice behind you resounded across the empty warehouse. “I tried so hard to eliminate you, YN. If I didn’t, Hansol would never give up his weak mindset of protecting people. Too bad.”

While he was busy with his evil villain monologue, you were trying to find a way out of your situation. The entrance was blocked and you could take a gander that the whole building was surrounded as well. You had totally forgotten about his abilities, and Hansol couldn’t be of much help either since he was never made for this kind of combat. Oh for Pete’s sake!

“Oh well, so much for trying,” he sighed. “Everyone, you can dispose of them now.”

Shit.

You gazed at Hansol for an answer yet you noticed that he was only standing there with the most composed expression he could ever muster in a situation like this.

“We have to get out of here, Hansol!” you exclaimed, seizing his hand yet he didn’t budge a single inch at all.

He was just staring at one random spot in the warehouse.

“What…”

“Sorry I was late.”

A voice you have never heard before now echoed across the area. You looked up and saw someone standing by the mezzanine, leaning against the rusted railings as if they had no care in the world.

“Jihoon. You took your time,” Hansol responded, smiling.

“Why are you here?!” Joshua shouted, now even more furious at the turn of events. For some reason, you sensed that he had just lost his upper hand.

“Hansol asked for my help. So, I came,” Jihoon replied while you noticed black diamonds floating high above the air and settled in to surround the whole place. “He knew you were bound to cause some trouble, and you did.”

“If you think you’re one step ahead of us, we are two steps ahead of you,” Hansol continued. “Jihoon and my abilities are a good match after all.”

The android who was at the center of it all was silent as he trembled with sheer rage. If you could describe the tension weighing down all of you inside that warehouse, it would be like a dense core of a black hole—as if everything was compressed to the point of singularity. You were very much afraid but you knew you were not alone.

In a quiet voice, Joshua muttered. “Get them. Kill them all.”

Without even waiting for a second, the androids from outside marched in, making you take a step back. As soon as they entered however, the androids were immediately electrocuted; shaking in a frenzy before plummeting to the ground still twitching due to the remaining electrons passing through their conductors.

“Jihoon can easily stop all of those androids. That is his main ability as a tactical adviser,” Hansol explained as he caught your shoulder. “But we should go now. Joshua will probably go after us.”

In one breath, Hansol picked you up from the ground and carried you over his shoulder; sprinting out of the warehouse by kicking a hole through the roof. You didn’t want to be carried this way but you understood why. Hansol was far faster on foot than you; besides, it was easier to shoot this way.

As expected, Joshua came running after you; cursing both your names. You began to fire at him yet he was too fast and the whole ride on Hansol’s shoulder was a little too bumpy. It wasn’t as effective as you imagined it would be.

“This won’t work” you told him, trying to distract the android chasing after you. “At this rate, my laser gun would run out of batteries, and your energy would get depleted before we could ever chase him out.”

“What are you suggesting then?” Hansol asked, climbing on top of a cargo container tower.

For a moment, you were silent as you thought of how to defeat your agile enemy.

“Say, those diamond things your brother uses…they’re the ones doing the electrocuting, aren’t they?”

Hansol nodded as he dodged the iron beams being hurled at you both. “Yes, they’re made of specials alloys that conduct well with electricity and a special aluminum coating to protect it. They can be spread out as far as a hundred meters in radius.”

You grinned. “Perfect. Now, this is what we’re going to do.”

It had been quiet for a while.

Joshua clearly lost the both of you when you made use of a container full of flour to mask your escape earlier. But he wasn’t going back. He was incredibly furious and the both of you needed to pay before he could make Jihoon suffer.

He paused and looked around. Something was in the air but he didn’t know what it was.

Without warning, a laser beam appeared out of nowhere and hit him behind his shoulder; making him stumble forward and almost pushing him to the ground. Before he could even recover, another one came flying from a different direction—now to his left.

“Calculate the angle for me, Hansol,” you ordered; a massive railgun at your grasps. It was a sleek black gun that was propped up behind a cargo container.

The both of you were actually far from where Joshua was at but with the help of Jihoon’s diamond things—as you aptly described it—scattered across the sector, you were able to locate Joshua as well as shooting him from a distance in various directions.

How? Well…

“39.9 degrees up, 5 degrees to the right, yes…” Hansol replied as he watched over your shoulder.

Immediately, you found the right coordinates and fired the railgun—the sound of its energy loading up increasing the adrenaline in your veins. The laser beam hit one of the diamonds floating above you, but instead of destroying it, the magnetic field generated by the diamond bent the laser beam as it ricochets to another diamond a few distance away, sitting at a perfect angle to hit Joshua. Like a game of BBTan.

There were several diamonds sitting just above the two of you which you alternated with so that Joshua wouldn’t be able to tell where the laser beams were coming from.

“Good thing Jihoon brought Soonyoung’s railgun,” Hansol remarked as he fixed your goggles from before; adjusting it so that he can transmit signals to it.

“Soonyoung’s another brother right?” you asked as you adjusted the crossfires of the massive gun. “Is he dangerous?”

“If you’re asking if he’s dangerous to humans like Joshua, then no,” he readily replied. “As a military-grade android, then yes. He’s the true combatant-type. I don’t think any bounty hunter can deal with him.”

You whistled. “That’s scary. I’m glad he’s not the one I was assigned to hunt.”

“He’s too carefree to be able to pull off something like this though, and Jihoon has him on a leash anyway. I’m not worried.”

Chuckling, you pulled your attention off of the railgun and turned to Hansol. “Is he still moving?”

“He’s at a weakened state now. I think I’ll handle this on my own. This is something between us, after all.”

“Sometimes I envy your sense of composure,” you remarked as you sighed. “Don’t die on me.”

“I don’t plan to.”

Just as he had said, Hansol stepped out of one of the cargo containers to face a rather battered Joshua. Using his state-of-the-art processor, he assessed that Joshua was only hanging due to the immense anger he feeling and one powerful strike can finish him off in an instant.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Joshua remarked his face marred with bruises and burnt marks.

“I thought maybe you’d want to give up,” Hansol replied. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than this.”

Joshua furrowed his brows as he threw daggers with his eyes at Hansol. “Save me the heroics. I’m not weak like you. I don’t need humans to help me.”

“We’re made with the same materials; the same blueprint, Joshua. You have to accept that you have an empathy organ inside of you, and rejecting it any further would lead you to deteriorate.”

“Don’t make me laugh. The empathy organ isn’t real!” He scoffed. “Jihoon made a wrong interpretation of the data he gathered.”

“I disagree,” Hansol replied. “The data I have gathered says otherwise. It was consistent to Jihoon’s findings.”

“Who would’ve guessed you got smitten by that bounty hunter! I guess I just have to convince you out of it,” Joshua grinned.

Without warning, Joshua sprinted from his position; throwing a high velocity kick towards Hansol’s direction. Hansol immediately blocked it with his arms and clutched Joshua’s ankle; smashing him down to the ground in an explosive crash.

Through the cloud of dust, Joshua hurled debris towards Hansol’s direction which he easily dodged. However, he wasn’t prepared when the other android suddenly flew at his direction; hands outstretched to grab on Hansol’s neck.

Hansol immediately countered, ducking below and grabbing the other’s neck in a chokehold before slamming Joshua back to the ground. He picked him up soon after and tossed him faraway like a curve ball. Joshua caught himself flying and saw himself crashing to the concrete floor; shards of rock and dust clouds up in the air.

“You know you’re no match for me if I use my predictive algorithms,” Hansol remarked as he looked down on Joshua who was lying on the floor. “Especially at that state.”

The other android grinned as he wiped leaked fluids from his lips. “I’m impressed. By asking Jihoon for help, the only one who could counter my AI hacking, then have your girlfriend shoot lasers to weaken me, and then finally attacking me one-on-one where you have the upper hand—your android side is showing.”

“I never denied my identity as an android. I will always be made of artificial materials. But I will not deny the fact that I have developed emotions and a consciousness of my own,” Hansol answered. “We will always be creatures of myth—a cold android swayed by their own emotions.”

Joshua spat on the floor; disgusted by his brother’s words. “I will never be like you!”

Again, he sprung from the ground and dashed towards Hansol.

The other easily countered everything his brother threw at him. As Joshua hurled an uppercut, Hansol dodged and smashed his fist at Joshua’s stomach; the other immediately curling.

“Stop this already!” Hansol pleaded; his chest tightening at how stubborn his brother could be, even to the point of near death.  

“Fuck you.”

Joshua stood up, trying to land a blow on Hansol yet he was already struggling to stand upright. Hansol dodged the attack as he pushed Joshua away, putting in more distance between them. Every time Joshua tried to strike, he only ducked, dodged or jumped above the other.

“You’re looking down on me, huh? You think you’re above everyone else just because you think you understand yourself!” Joshua shouted.

“I’m not! Why are you even doing this?” Hansol replied as he bit his lip. He can no longer bear looking at his brother who he once looked up to.

“He’s right, you know?”

Jihoon’s voice resounded across the area, floating diamonds following just behind him. “It’s time for you to stop.”

Joshua clicked his tongue, knowing full well that he can’t take on both Hansol and Jihoon at the same time. With barred teeth, he glared at both his brothers.

“We’re not done here yet.”

With those words, he jumped off the building where a hovercraft caught him and escaped away from the city skylines. Hansol and Jihoon watched as their brother left, realizing that they must take significant measures to prevent Joshua from hurting anyone ever again.

“Did you do what I told you?” Jihoon asked Hansol, who only nodded in response. “We’ll have to deal with him sooner or later.”

“He’s not going to stop, is he?” Hansol responded as Jihoon turned around and waved his hand.

“It’s going to take a lot to stop him. We might need Soonyoung after all,” he replied, and then stopped walking, averting his gaze to Hansol. “While we’re planning things, you should enjoy this down time with your girlfriend. Things might get a little heated soon.”

Somewhere inside a fully automated café, Hansol was sitting beside you as he observed the people walking to and fro outside the busy street. He had been staying with you since that night and he was more than satisfied to explore his newfound freedom with you.

“So, you quit as well, huh?” a deep voice echoed across the café filled with people dressed in weird latex suits—you three being the only people dressed normally.

“There’s…I just don’t know…Seungcheol,” you replied, looking at your cup of macchiato with a pensive expression. “Sometimes, I get nightmares.”

The other man chuckled. “That those andys you retired might be human, right? Me too.”

You gave a bitter smile. “Humans and androids all seems to identical nowadays. Especially with that new research about human-android relationships…I feel like I’m killing humans when I retire androids…”

Seungcheol mirrored your expression.

“I felt the same. I felt like that for years…and the last one I did, SVT-class Type-07 Woozi…I couldn’t do it anymore. That android was too close to a human being. It was protecting its girlfriend,” Seungcheol recounted, as you looked at a newspaper article featuring a top scientist with a blond android leading the research on humans and androids, on top of the table.

“That line…there were rumors that there was an empathy organ embedded on its androids,” you remarked, relaying a very well-known information.

“He’s part of that line, isn’t he?” Seungcheol asked with a father-like knowing grin as he sipped his coffee—his eyes staring at the direction of a distracted Hansol.

You threw a smirk at him. “I couldn’t retire him. How could I refuse if he asked me to trust him?”

Your companion chuckled. “These andys knowing what to throw at us bounty hunters. But I didn’t regret letting that android live.”

You glanced at Hansol, and as soon as he realized your gaze, he looked at you curiously. “Me too. I think I’m at peace more than I was before. I didn’t realize it, but I was being stubborn.”

“You don’t dislike them anymore?” Seungcheol asked.

“I still dislike all this baloney,” you scoffed, pointing at your surroundings filled with people in white overalls with expressions induced by chemicals. “But I don’t dislike him.”

Seungcheol raised his brows at you. “I’m surprised you accepted the existence of an empathy organ.”

“I can’t deny that I’m skeptical about it, but I also can’t deny the fact that Hansol is different compared to all the androids I’ve met before. He made me realize how much anger I was hiding inside of me. He doesn’t make me feel lonely as this city does.”

“People are living in spaces separate from each other…not caring, not loving. It’s funny, you know?” you continued when your companion didn’t reply. “Androids are becoming more human, as humans become more robotic. You’d wonder what the future holds for us.”

He nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, you’d wonder.”

[burnedbyshoto]

Butterfly

Kinktober Day 8 ~ kink: tentacles

pairing: dom!amajiki tamaki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 2,848

a/n: wow.........I actually really hate tentacle porn, it always disgusted me, but I would let one man fuck with me tentacles. yes you guessed correctly, shouto. just kidding its definitely tamaki, enjoy sluts!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You sometimes wondered how Amajiki Tamaki was such an unconfident man. His need for perfection was something that worried you, after all, in your eyes he was perfect. Your relationship with Tamaki had begun with major bumps in the road.

He had assumed in the beginning that you hated him. Your sweet words only a taunt in his mind, your affectionate smiles only a hidden snarl. It truly broke your heart when he finally admitted that to you. Tamaki was such a talented Pro-Hero that it often left you bewildered at his nervousness. You knew he would never get defeated in battle. But his often flashes of anxiety that filled his veins while he was in fights scared you.

You would watch via television while Tamaki went from confidence to crippling anxiety. Your hands always clutching your chest as you stare at your, at the time, best friend gets stomped on screen. However, without fail, Tamaki always pulled through. Of course, once you were finally done with work, you raced to his house. Waiting for the indigo haired boy to return home, bruised but victorious.

You could never resist throwing yourself into his arms, his voice squeaking your name. Heavy with embarrassment. You would always follow him in and help him with whatever he needed. You used to leave whenever Mirio and Nejire showed up. Given the three of them were best friends you always felt like you were intruding. It took a while but when Tamaki finally insisted along with the other two, you stayed.

You never expected to become friends with this very talented Pro-Heroes. Even now it made you smile whenever the four of you hung out. But things changed drastically between you and Tamaki. It all beginning after a fateful encounter with a merciless villain.

You remember watching from your office. Too many Pro-Heroes and sidekicks were getting tossed around like rag dolls. Your eyes widening as the onlooking camera crew focused in on Suneater running to the scene. They praised your best friend! Tamaki seemed unaffected by the villain's immense threat as he began to apprehend him.

It was a long fight.

It lasted an entire ten minutes, dramatic highs and lows. All to the point where you believed Tamaki had been killed. The panicked screams escaping your mouth as your coworkers held you. But with tears still streaming down your eyes, Tamaki rose. The costume is torn and in shreds, he ate something. Your shouts intermingled with the entire floors as you cheered him on. And within seconds, the villain was finally defeated. Tamaki standing over him, chest heaving as more Pro-Heroes arrived on the scene.

Tamaki shortly fainted afterward and was then rushed to the hospital.

He was released that same night, thankfully. You were in the waiting room for him to be discharged. Mirio and Nejire asked again if you were sure you were able to take him home. Your eyes were swollen and puffy due to the high amounts of sobbing you did. Your lips are chapped and brittle as you waved them away. “You guys have early rounds tomorrow,” Your voice weak and yet steely strong. “I can get him home. I’m fine now.”

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling scared, y/n-chan,” Nejire says, her voice serious as she held your cheeks in her hands.

It often made you speechless when Tamaki’s friends turned serious. They were all such dynamic people you forgot they could take things very seriously.

“I got this handled.” You affirm, your mouth pulling into a soft smile. They hugged you before leaving. The quiet hours of the late-night consuming you as you waited for Tamaki to be officially released.

You saw the battered hero exiting his room and into the hallway. Bandages surrounding his arms and a few gauges on his cheeks. He acknowledged you with a shy smile, his head slamming away from you as he talked to a nurse.

You stood up, collecting your things as you walked over to the Pro-Hero who talked with the nurse. She looks at you as you approach the counter, a tired smile on her face as she greets you.

“Hi, I’m assuming you’re here to take Amajiki-san back home?” She questions and your head nods in confirmation. “Okay, well please keep an eye on him. We were able to heal him mostly with our resident healing quirk. But he will be extremely groggy in the next few hours when it hits him.”

“O-Oh, of course. I’ll do my best to look after him.” You say with a bow, and a muffled sound comes from Tamaki as you grab his arm gently.

“Ready to go?” You ask, your eyes locked on his blushing cheeks.

He nods, and with that, you take him home.

It’s silent the entire car ride to his home.

Your eyes shifting over to his stiff form as you drive.

He had nothing to say to you, and you had nothing to say to him.

You had been scared out of your mind for him, but you couldn’t help the anger from filling your veins. The only question was why were you so angry?

Angry at him? No, that wouldn’t make sense. You worked hand in hand with Pro-Heroes, you knew what they did was because they wanted to be everyday heroes. So why were you mad at your best friend for scaring you like that?

Your hands tighten over the steering wheel as you pull into his driveway. Stepping out, you helped a stumbling Tamaki to his feet. Your eyes staring ahead as he leaned against your shoulder for support.

You often forget your friend was as strong and as big as he was. His weight crushing your shoulder. You attempted to maneuver him towards his front door.

“Y… Y/n…” Tamaki mumbles as you get to the front door.

“Yes?” You respond getting him to lean between the corner of the walls. All so that you can fish out his spare key from under his rock garden.

“Butterflies are my… my favorite things.” Tamaki tells you this, and you laugh as you shake your head. Your fingers finding the cool brass key and you stand up to see Tamaki looking at you with groggy eyes.

“I know that, Tamaki.” You remind him, “You told me that during our twenty questions drinking game.”

His face flushes red, and you sigh as he slams his head against the wall, his body shaking. “No… it’s not just that.” He admits and you quirk your eyebrow as you unlock the front door.

“Then what is it, Tamaki?”

“C-Can I call you butterfly?” He asks you, confidence seeping into his voice and you freeze as his front door opens.

“W-What?” You stutter, as the man stumbles in his stance, he looks so tired and yet so painfully in love with you.

“I… I like you a lot, y/n…” Tamaki whispers, and he takes a few steps towards you. His tired eyes burning as he presses his forehead against yours. Your chest is hammering as you feel his flushed skin against your own, his eyes closed as if this was a dream. His hands resting on your waist as you choke softly. “Today with that battle… I thought I was going to die, and I was going to die a coward. I couldn’t die knowing that I… that I never got to confess my feelings for you. I’ve always been a coward, my entire life… I know that! But as I lay there… as I lay there--” His eyes were full of tears and your hands grasp his face.

Your fingers brushing away his falling tears as you shake your head, “You aren’t a coward, Tamaki.” You say, the anger within you making sense now. You were in love with your best friend. “You weren’t going to die there, I wouldn’t have let that happened.”

A broken sob escapes his mouth as he shakes his head, furious. “I am a coward, y/n. I’m in l-love with you, and I never confessed until I thought I wasn’t coming back.”

“Tamaki…”

“Even if y-you don’t like m-me back, can I p-please call you butterfly… you just make me so happy…”

His dark eyes search yours, and without a single word more, your lips press against his. Your soul overcoming his own as he cries against your mouth. You don’t care, and tears are coming down your own cheeks as you pull him in close. Your lips uttered to him everything you had never told him. Promising him a future he would never think of until now.

You were in love with your best friend, and you were going to live the rest of your life engraving that into his heart.

When the two of you showed up to the next hangout with your friends. Everyone was so overjoyed to see Tamaki turning beet red as you held his hand cheering in excitement.

Your love was pure, forgiving, wholesome.

Late-night dancing, lingering kisses in the morning, and an insane amount of food dates.

Tamaki surprised you in many areas. His initial anxiety and unconfident nature erasing in many areas. After five minutes of doing something, he tended to feel confident. Of course, the greatest surprise came in bed.

Humans had a natural ability to make things… sexual, to say the least. It took until your fifth month anniversary for you to ask Tamaki to bring his quirk into play. Your mouth brushing against his trembling torso as your hand grasped his cock. “I want to use your tentacles one day,” You sighed, and like that, Tamaki had come into your hands.

Of course, it took another month for Tamaki to not crumble when attempting your request, but once he did. It unlocked something new and exciting within Tamaki. Something that made you wish you had asked him to bring his quirk to bed earlier.

Tamaki bit down on the golden broken takoyaki, your tongue slipping out of your mouth to lick your lips.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, butterfly?” Tamaki asks as he finishes his food. Your thighs rub together in anticipation as you laugh.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything.” You counter, a cunning grin on your face as his gentle face smiles.

You had no idea what was going on in his brain, but the confident smirks sent waves of pleasure down your spine. Your breaths turning into pants as you wanted him to climb on top of you. Last time around he had simply fingered you, but it seemed he had a new idea in mind.

Your eyebrows furrowed as Tamaki pulled up a chair, and sat down on by the foot of the bed.

“Tama-chan?” You ask confused, why was he sitting down.

A shriek leaves your lips as something grasps your wrists and ankles.

Your body is pulled against the mattress, and you gasp as you try looking. Sure enough, four pink tentacles are holding your limbs tightly to the bed. The suckers on the limbs making you groan in pleasure at the intense pressure it added to your arms. Pants leave your mouth at the sight of Tamaki smiling at you, pure of innocence.

“You’re quite beautiful when you’re spread out like this, butterfly.” Tamaki sighs as he leans against a single hand, a grin curling on his features. Your body trembled as another tentacle traces up your leg. The cool limb touching your inner thigh, and you struggle against his tentacles. Your body wanting nothing more than to cover up. “Now, now, don’t cover-up. I love seeing your clenching pussy like this, butterfly. I don’t want you to hide from me.”

“Tamaki…” You moan his name as the tentacle moves to your left breast. It encircles it tightly but continues moving. It is quick to reciprocate its actions to your right breast. You arch off the bed as the tentacles pulsate, squeezing your chest delicious as you cry out his name. Good god was this on another level. You shudder against his groping tentacle. The tip of the tentacle pressing against your nipple and you whine greatly.

A chuckle comes from Tamaki, but you lack the will to stare at him in the position. Your arousal feels like its growing as you feel the heat being emitted from your lower lips. Your hips shifting to ease the uncomfortable buildup within you. You weren’t getting the attention you needed down there. Unfortunate for you, Tamaki seemed focused on your breasts right now.

“What’s wrong, butterfly?” Tamaki asks, a smirk all too evident in his tone.

You curse as your hips thrash against the mattress. Your jaw-dropping as his tentacles continue lavishing your body. The pleasure in you only seeming to spark higher as he watches from afar. Your head spinning with lust as you can’t help but feel dirty as his tentacles do his bidding. The tentacles around your wrist tighten and you moan out.

“Do you need more?” Tamaki wonders, and you finally manage to look back down at Tamaki who bites down on his lip. “Tell me, butterfly, do you want more?”

You nod your head, unable to trust your voice as he grins. He raises a single finger, and you watch with the utmost glee as it manifests into a tentacle.

It immediately sinks into your desperate cunt, and you mewl loudly. The moving appendage pressing against the walls of your pussy as it thrust into you. Your hips slam up against Tamaki’s tentacle, your jaw falling down as you pant. The feeling mind-numbing as it slams in and out of you. Over and over, twitching and twirling within your dripping cunt. You plead for more, wanting nothing more than Tamaki’s cock to enter your pussy as well.

“Tama, please! Oh my god!” You scream as the tip of his tentacle easily presses into your g-spot. “SHIT!”

He slams the tentacle into your g-spot without mercy. A feral grin on your face as you continue thrashing against your bonds. His tentacle growing in girth inside your spasming walls. All while he continues to build the fiery pressure from within.

“I think you’re being too loud.” Tamaki groans. The tentacle that was groping your breasts shooting down. The smooth skin pressing against your aching cunt.

Your head throws back and your mouth drops as you’re about to scream his name. You’re cut off as another tentacle fills your mouth. Your scream is muffled, and you choke around the tentacle. The tip of the tentacle pressing against the back of your throat. The tentacle rams further down your throat, and your eyes roll back. The double penetration overwhelming you. There is nothing more that you can do except take it. Letting him have way with you as he fucks both your mouth and clenching pussy.

In and out, your body trembling as he fucks you in both places fast, hard, unforgiving. Your dripping cunt making the most lecherous noises as he pounded into you. The occasional gags emitting from your throat as his thrusts don’t give you enough time to adjust to his speed.

“Kami, you look so fucking delicious like this.” Tamaki pants from the distance, and you moan around his tentacle. Your mind wanting him even more so as the building pressure of your pussy increases. “Are you ready to come yet, butterfly?” You sob a sound that’s choked around his pounding tentacles. Your head nodding as your cheeks feel as if they are on fire. “Then come for me.”

It all comes crashing down. The tentacle sliding up and down your throat erases your sobs. The tentacle pressing into your pulsating clit goes faster. The tentacle slamming into your pussy widens within your clenching walls. You come hard, your vision turns white as you choke around the tentacle.

Your body weakly thrashes around on the mattress as he tentacles finally leave you. Your body sweaty, aching, and on a whole new high as Tamaki finally crawls onto the bed. A teasing smile on his face as he presses butterfly kisses to your collarbone. You heave for air as his touches are achingly sweet.

He gathers your limp body into his arms, and you sigh as he smooths your bruised wrists. “You were so beautiful,” He whispers. You groan slightly as he presses a kiss to your aching throat. “But don’t think this is over.” Your eyes slide over to Tamaki who grinds his raging boner into the palm of your hand. “You’re just too sweet to resist.”

“Tamaki.” You moan as you begin palming him through his restricting pants. You grin as you feel his lips beginning to suckle against your neck. You smirk as his hips rock against your moving fingers. You whine as he pins you back onto the bed, the tips of his hair brushing against your flushed and sweaty skin. Butterflies once more erupting into your stomach.

“I’m glad you're ready for a round two,” Tamaki groans as your fingers grip his hard-on. You chuckle as you silence him with a kiss.

“Me, too.”

[knox-knocks]

Such Stuff as Dreams are Made

this is my fic written for @justadreamfox for the spring exchange!! it got a lot longer than I expected, but here’s a magic library au!! i had a blast working with your prompts and i hope you enjoy! :D

~

Andrew needed a cigarette. He had a pack in his pocket, and he itched to light it and taste the bitter nicotine, but being chased by two squad cars full of pigs and four delinquents that wanted Andrew’s head on a pike left him with little opportunity. He hadn’t been the one to tip off the police about their little gatherings, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that the road was ending and Andrew was coming up on a dead end.

He ducked behind a dumpster, bending over to catch his breath in an attempt not to pass out. He might be able to pack a punch, but running had never been his forte.

Red and blue lights flashed across the wall as one of the cop cars crawled past, the pigs scanning for any sign of Andrew or any of the other guys that had scattered after the raid. Andrew knew to give it a couple minutes before leaving his stinking sanctuary, and he waited a few more in case they circled back or one of his former associates tried to ambush him. Hopefully the pigs would arrest them and leave Andrew to get caught street-fighting another day.

When the coast was clear, Andrew left the alley and started back to the dilapidated house he shared with his deadbeat mother and sick brother. He needed to be home before Tilda got back from whatever gutter she had spent the night in, or before Aaron woke up and needed his meds. Aside from Andrew’s late-night escapade, the streets were silent as Andrew walked through the city he had lived in his entire life, but was never able to call home.

Andrew had picked up his street-fighting habit halfway through his junior year of high school, when Aaron’s condition had worsened and Andrew’s mounting responsibilities had grown too much, even for him. If it weren’t for Aaron, Andrew was sure he’d have run away and headed somewhere east, anywhere but California. But he would never abandon his brother; he was unwillingly to break the promise he made to him when they were children and leave him, sick and vulnerable, to Tilda’s negligent care.

It was on nights like these, when the breeze made Andrew’s skin prickle with left-over humidity, that he waited until Aaron was sound asleep in his bed and Tilda was long gone before he left their ramshackle little house with its sagging gray walls and peeling white paint for the night. The street-fighting provided some money that Andrew used to put food on the table and meds for Aaron, though not that much. Mostly it was a way to let off a little steam. Apparently, beating the shit out of people and getting beat in return was a great stress reliever. Though, Andrew supposed, now he’d have to find another venue. He doubted he’d be welcomed back to the old one, even if it didn’t get shut down by the pigs.

Andrew flexed his hand until his knuckles ached. They were bruised, he’d need to ice them when he got home. Andrew was so preoccupied with cataloging his injuries, that he almost walked right past something that shouldn’t have been there.

Situated in a vacant lot that had been empty for years was a building, tall and impossible against the inky black of the sky. It was square and blocky, blending into the neighborhood in the way all abandoned buildings did. Drab paint that coated the outside had chipped away in spots to reveal faded, crumbling brickwork underneath. On the inside, the windows were covered with thick, red curtains that stifled faint yellow light Andrew could see creeping from behind them. Andrew stepped over tiny flowers and leafy weeds that grew out of cracked concrete stairs that led to double doors at the front of the building and was struck with the sudden urge to knock, though the place looked like it hadn’t been touched in years.

Light seeped in from under the door and when Andrew pressed his ear to its splintered wood, he could hear a faint humming coming from the other side. It reminded him of a bit of a heartbeat. He took a step back, craning his neck to see the whole front of the ugly thing. A sign hung above him, faded letters painted onto rough wood.

Foxhole’s Traveling Library. Around it was a carving of a leaping fox, front legs touching its tail to encircle the words.

“What the fuck,” Andrew whispered.

The thing was, the lot the library sat on was next to the 24-hour convenience store that Andrew liked to stop by for snacks and cigarettes before his matches, and it had definitely been empty two hours ago when Andrew passed it. It looked as if someone had dropped a giant building in the middle of the lot and just left it there.

Before Andrew could think too hard about it, he heard the wail of sirens and saw the flashing red and blue of police cars rounding the corner. He couldn’t go to the convenience store since the owner, Mick, didn’t like him very much and would turn him over in a heartbeat. That left one last option.

Andrew shoved his shoulder against the boarded-up doors of the library, expecting more resistance, but the doors gave easily and he tumbled inside.

The library on the inside was a completely different sort of strange than the outside. While the outside was all crumbling infrastructure and OSHA violations, the inside was something straight out of a dream. It seemed a lot bigger than the outside could have hinted, with rows upon rows of shelves stuffed with thousands of books, stretching as far as Andrew could see. He was pretty sure he could get lost in this place, even with a memory as good as his.

A gilded spiral staircase gave off a burnished glow in the warm light that emanated from various dimly-lit lamps on the walls. They were old-fashioned, oil-lamps cast in iron that gleamed in the flickering light. Andrew craned his neck upwards and counted eight floors that looked identical to the one he stood on. There were paintings too – delicate oils of people hung in gold frames on walls painted white and masterfully-crafted marble busts of long-forgotten people tucked between the bookshelves. They were fanciful and detailed in a library that seemed to be made up entirely of fancy and detail.

Andrew drew closer the bookshelves and inspected the books. Most of them were leather-bound and embossed with gold foil and several were in different languages. He ran his finger down the spines, feeling the rough bumps from the binding and wondered how they got there. It seemed an innocuous question; someone had to have put them there. But Andrew couldn’t help but think that the books had always been there, that there was no other place for them to be.

He walked around for a bit, wandering through the shelves and studying the strange books in them. There were no markers that indicated what genre was in, but occasionally he passed tiny golden placards that listed names and places. One simply read, Forgotten Books.

As far as Andrew knew, the library was empty. He hadn’t seen a soul in the hours he’d been there; no one perusing the shelves of books or studying the artwork like he would have expected. He supposed they could have been on the upper levels, but there was no one at the help desk behind the stairs, either. But Andrew couldn’t help noticing that there was no dust that coated the shelves. The place seemed well-kept, so someone must have been attending them.

Andrew could spend hours here – days, if he really wanted to. But if Tilda found that he had snuck out again, he’d have more to worry about than a dust-free counter in a seemingly-abandoned library. He retraced his steps through the maze of shelves, noting that it took more time finding his way out of the library, and was outside before the sun had fully begun its assent into the dull gray of the morning sky.

The next day, the library pervaded his thoughts. After his shift at the warehouse, he went to visit the library again, except the lot was empty when he arrived. There was no sign of the huge building that had been there hours prior, not even the skeletal remains of it. Weeds swayed in the breeze where the library was supposed to be and Andrew was left wondering if he had simply dreamt it all.

~

The second time Andrew saw the library, he found it by accident, tucked in an alley about two miles from his house. It was a lot narrower than the library in the lot, and it sat crammed between two apartment buildings and a back wall. Andrew would not have recognized it if it weren’t for the sign that read, Foxhole’s Traveling Library fixed above the doorway.

The inside, Andrew discovered, looked exactly as it had when he first saw it. The same shelves with their strange labeling system were where he’d found them that first night, and Andrew was greeted with that familiar humming sound, like a thousand tiny wings beating in unison. The library still seemed impossibly huge compared to the outside, and Andrew swore he felt a buzzing beneath his skin.

It greeted him like an old friend, far too familiar for only seeing it once before. He’d stumbled across the library weeks ago, but Andrew felt like he had known this place for years.

The second level was almost identical to the bottom one, and Andrew spent his night circling the section of shelves labeled “Books Well-Traveled.” He expected to see maps and atlas’, depictions of the world and places Andrew would never see – and there were a couple – but most of the shelves held books with tattered covers and heavily-creased spines. As far as Andrew could tell, there was no rhyme or reason to the organization of the books. On one shelf, he found Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone slotted next to a near-unrecognizable copy of The Great Gatsby.

“You’re new.”

Andrew almost dropping the books he held in his arms to the carpeted ground below as someone spoke behind him. He whipped around to see a man standing at the end of the shelf. After spending hours alone in the library during his first visit, Andrew hadn’t expected to be interrupted by anyone.

The man wasn’t much taller than Andrew, or much older, with dark red hair that fell around an impish face in lose curls. He regarded Andrew warily, assessing him with a sharp quirk of an eyebrow. His face was covered in thin and circular scars and his eyes were shrewd and blue like a summer’s sky. He was very pretty, Andrew noticed.

His heart was still beating much too fast, as if he’d been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. He shoved the books back onto the shelf. “Who are you?”

“Neil,” the man said after a long pause.

Andrew blinked. He glanced at the plaque that was supposed to tell him what genre he was in, but simply stated Books Well-Traveled instead. Right underneath it, inscribed in tiny letters, was Neil Josten. Baltimore 2008 – Dublin 2010.

“That’s my shelf,” Neil confirmed, correctly guessing Andrew’s line of thought. His eyes narrowed. “What’s your name?”

“Andrew.”

Neil scrutinized him for a long moment, as if trying to puzzle something out. Then his expression turned sly. He slid next to Andrew beside the bookcase and pointed to the novels Andrew had hastily put away.

“You put them in the wrong spot,” he said. He reached around him and rearranged three of the books. “They’re chronological.”

Andrew frowned at the three novels Neil had sorted. “Hamlet was written before John Steinbeck was even born,” he felt the need to point out.

Neil looked at him with a strange quirk to his lips, as if there were something Andrew didn’t get. Obviously, he didn’t feel the need to explain because he ignored Andrew’s comment. “You can read the books, but you need to log it with Wymack first,” he said. “He’s the one in charge here.”

Then he plucked a seemingly-random book off the shelf and handed it to Andrew. He turned on his heel and disappeared before Andrew could even get a word in, navigating through the bookcases with an ease that spoke of true familiarity. Andrew glared after him, intrigued despite himself and irritated about it.

The book Neil had given him was a battered edition of Watership Down. Andrew rubbed his thumb over the hard cover, feeling the small tears and scratches in the plastic covering. Watership Down had been Andrew’s favorite book as a kid. He hadn’t read it in years, but he still had his own copy safely hidden under his bed. He didn’t know why Neil had given him this book in particular, or why he had seemed so wily about it. Andrew flipped through the pages, skimming through passages he had long since read and memorized, before replacing it on the shelf in its nonsensically designated spot.

Andrew passed the help desk on his way downstairs, and noticed that it was no longer unattended. The man standing behind the desk was a hulking bear of a man, with thick muscles the size of Andrew’s head and flame tattoos crawling up his forearms. He hunched over what looked like a log of names and book titles. He didn’t look like what Andrew would picture as a librarian.

“Welcome back,” the man – Wymack, Andrew assumed – sighed. He glanced up at Andrew and squinted at him. “You’re not taking another book, are you? You’re supposed to return them afterwards. This is a library, not a charity.”

Andrew stared at him. His hands were empty, and he hadn’t taken anything when he left the library two weeks ago. Rather than parse the meaning, Andrew asked, “What is this place?”

“Foxhole’s Traveling Library,” recited Wymack. “The sign’s outside. I thought you’d have learned to read by now.”

Apparently, no one in this weird library was going to give him a straight answer. The old quack behind the desk leveled him one last stern look before returning to his log. He scribbled something at the bottom of the page and said, “Stay as long as you’d like, but we close at sunrise. No taking any more books until you learn how to use a library.”

“I haven’t taken anything,” Andrew said and Wymack glared at him.

“I changed my mind,” he said gruffly, snapping his book shut and placing it flat on the desk in front of him. “We’re closing now. Goodbye.”

Not seeing the point in arguing, Andrew gave him a sarcastic two-finger salute and turned around. As he was leaving, he couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes watching him. The prickling in the back of his neck grew too much as Andrew was crossing the threshold to the alley outside so he glanced back. He saw something small dart behind one of the bookcases, a flash of red before disappearing again. Andrew stared hard at the shelf, but detected no other movement.

The sense of someone watching him followed Andrew home, but he couldn’t see anyone around whenever he scanned the street. His fingers brushed the armband of his left arm, taking comfort from the outline of his pocket knife. The hard ridge of his knife beneath his fingertips gave him more semblance of security, but Andrew didn’t feel completely safe until the door was firmly shut and locked behind him.

He didn’t know what to make of the library. It wasn’t normal, that much was obvious, but Andrew was hard-pressed to call it magic. He didn’t believe in superstition or something as stupid as magic. Things that bent the laws of time and physics didn’t fit into Andrew’s worldview, and a shapeshifting-traveling-not-magical library certainly wasn’t allowed. Andrew rubbed his forehead, feeling the beginnings of a migraine starting behind his eyes.

Maybe the sleep-deprivation and stress were finally catching up and he was losing it. The library and its strange inhabitants were simply a figment of Andrew’s imagination and all he needed was to sleep it off. He checked the clock that still hung in the kitchen, despite being about two hours off, and climbed up the stairs to the room he shared with Aaron. If he went to bed now, he’d still have a couple hours before he had to clock in at the grocery store.

When he stepped into his room, he noticed that the window was wide open. Aaron was asleep in his bed across the room, dead to the world for another couple hours before he’d wake up, but the latch was unlocked and the moth-bitten curtains shifted in the wind. Andrew frowned; he definitely hadn’t left the window open when he left. Aaron must have woken up and opened it himself.

That’s when Andrew heard the scratching from under his bed. He went immediately to Aaron, making a barrier between his sleeping brother and whoever was under his bed. But no one emerged. All Andrew heard was some more scratching, and then a quiet snuffling sound that reminded Andrew of a small animal.

For a moment, Andrew was relieved he wouldn’t have to fend off a would-be attacker, but then he thought of his books. The three novels he hid under his bed were the only things he truly owned besides the clothes on his back, and he’d kept them with him all these years. He wasn’t about to let them get chewed up by a wild animal.

Andrew looked for anything he could use and grabbed a ruler off of Aaron’s desk. The first thing he saw when he ducked his head under the bed was a shrewd pair of eyes, glowing in the darkness. Andrew jabbed at it with the ruler, and it leapt at him with snarl, making Andrew fall backwards.

It was a fox, russet-colored fur and bright blue eyes that seemed far too clever to belong to an animal. Andrew stared at it, dumbfounded, and it took him a few seconds to realize that one of his books was trapped in its jaws. He couldn’t see the cover but he didn’t need to – he would recognize this book anywhere. It was his copy of Watership Down.

“Hey – fuck.” Andrew scrambled to his feet, snatching for his book, but the fox darted out of his reach and jumped out the window. He rushed after it but was too late. He saw a bushy red tail disappearing around the corner, book in tow.

“You fucking asshole,” Andrew shouted, as loud as he dared. Tilda would be getting home any minute now, and Andrew couldn’t risk her hearing him.

Andrew shut the window and locked it, booking it down the stairs as quietly as he could. It didn’t take long to find the fox. Andrew chased after it, but it always stayed two steps ahead of him. It led him back to the dead-end alley the library had been in. Andrew rounded the corner triumphantly, expecting to see the trapped fox with his book. Instead he found a couple of trash bins and rotting cardboard boxes. No library.

Behind him, the sun was already beginning to rise. The library, and the fox with his book, were gone.

~

By the time Andrew made it back home, Aaron was already up and about. Andrew found him wandering around the kitchen in his pajama bottoms, rummaging through the cupboards for breakfast. He seemed okay enough, and Andrew was glad to see him out of bed.

“There’s no fucking food in this house,” Aaron grumbled before rounding on Andrew. “And you’re lucky you didn’t get caught sneaking out.”

“Did you take your meds?” Andrew asked without acknowledging the statement.

He brushed past Aaron on the way to the fridge. There wasn’t anything in there except an old bottle of ketchup and an empty pizza box. Andrew made a mental note to grab some groceries when he was done with his shift. They really didn��t have the money, but Tilda wasn’t going to do it and Andrew could ask for an advance on his next paycheck if he really needed to. Maybe he should find a new ring to fight in at night.

“Obviously.” Aaron crossed his arms. “And Mom’s passed out upstairs. She’ll be out for a couple hours but I’ll check on her in a bit to make sure she’s not drowning in her own vomit.”

“Let her drown.” Andrew slammed the refrigerator door shut. “Maybe then we’ll have money for groceries.”

“Fuck you,” Aaron said, but he sounded too tired to be angry.

~

Andrew tried really, really hard not to think of the library, but it slipped in and out of his thoughts almost constantly throughout the next four days. Even Aaron seemed to notice his distraction, shooting him concerned looks whenever Andrew was near. Andrew waved him off. The last thing Aaron needed was to be worrying about him.

“Is it a boy?” Aaron asked one night. He was already dressed for bed in sweats and an old t-shirt, furiously brushing his teeth as he analyzed Andrew in the mirror. Andrew shot him an annoyed look while he combed his wet hair out into something manageable.

“Mind your business,” he said, yanking at a particularly stubborn knot.

“You’re being weird,” Aaron wheedled. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

What could Andrew tell him; that he’d found a magic library not once, but twice? That he’d chased a fox that had stolen his book? That the library had practically disappeared in front of his eyes? Aaron would think he was insane. Andrew wasn’t entirely sure he’d be wrong.

Andrew practically shoved him out of the bathroom. “Bedtime, little Aaron,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Aaron scowled at him.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the older twin,” he said.

“Bullshit.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, then his expression turned solemn. “Seriously, though,” he said. “Are you in trouble?”

Andrew sighed. He knew Aaron’s concern wasn’t entirely misplaced; Andrew had been picked up twice by the police and had gotten himself into deep shit more than once. There used to be a time where Andrew and Aaron told each other everything, but that had been years ago.

“I’m not in trouble,” he said, only to ease the tension from his brother’s expression. “I found a new fighting ring that I’m going to try out tonight.”

Aaron seemed hesitant, but he let the subject drop. “Do you want me to go with?”

Andrew shook his head. “I won’t stay out long tonight, just testing the waters.”

“First-aid kit is under the sink. For when you get your ass beat,” Aaron teased.

“Oh ye of little faith.” Andrew slung his jacket over his shoulder and flipped Aaron off as he left. He saw Aaron return the gesture as the door closed behind him.

The new ring was only about four blocks away from the lot the library had first appeared in, but Andrew shoved any thoughts of the traveling library firmly out of his head. Eden’s Twilight was packed when Andrew showed up, and the first round had already begun. He pushed his way through the crowd, jabbing his elbow into anyone who got too close. The place smelled of beer and sweat and the ground was sticky and covered in suspicious stains.

Andrew found a vantage point in a small alcove above the main mass of the crowd that surround the ring. Only a few people hung out on the upper deck so it wasn’t as crowded as it was below. Inside the ring, the two fighters circled each other as the audience cheered and placed bets. Andrew mentally placed a few of his own, though he didn’t put money on it or voice them out loud.

The first guy was huge, tall and muscular and covered in tattoos. He beat his fists together to the screams of his fans. Andrew was pretty sure he’d seen him fight in another ring before. It only took him a second to place his name. Gorilla. Gorilla was known for his brutal punches and strength, but he was slow and tired easily.

His challenger was at least two heads shorter than him. She was wiry and thin, with her white-blonde hair pulled into a short ponytail at the back of her head. Andrew watched her circle the ring and sat up with interest. He was too far to see clearly, but he thought he recognized the dangerous glint in her eye as she sized up her opponent. Andrew didn’t think this match would be as cut-and-dry as it seemed.

He was right.

Gorilla attacked first, lunging at the women with a loud cry, but the women dodged easily and aimed two sharp jabs to his ribs. She was fast and deadly, with precise punches and kicks that wore her larger opponent down. She fought dirty too, striking hard at sensitive places. The match was over in a matter of minutes, when the women dug her knee in the back of Gorilla’s leg and forced him down, pinning his arm behind his back until he tapped out.

The audience roared and Andrew felt impressed despite himself. The blonde women gave a sweet wave that was at odds with the way she fought and exited the ring. Andrew hopped down from his perch before the next match started and shoved around looking for someone who could sign him up for a future match. He almost slammed right into the women collecting her winnings.

There was a bruise already starting to swell on her chin from where Gorilla had punched her, but she smiled when she saw Andrew. She was dressed conservatively and her white-blonde hair was dyed into a pastel rainbow at the tips. A tiny silver cross hung from her neck, catching the flashing lights around them. It was hard reconciling the fighter Andrew saw in the ring with the sweet Christian girl in front of him.

“Hi,” she said, waving with a hand taped with bandages. “Are you Andrew?”

“What,” Andrew said. He wondered how the hell she knew his name, and if he should get out of there. If some of the people from his old ring were here, they might still be looking for someone to blame. And Andrew didn’t think he’d want to be on the receiving end of this women’s punches.

“Sorry.” The women smiled apologetically. She put her hand out for Andrew to shake. “Renee. My friend pointed you out.”

That didn’t make Andrew feel any better. His eyes slid past Renee, looking for anyone that might have recognized him. His eyes caught on red hair, a scarred face, and clever blue eyes.

“You,” Andrew said and started towards Neil. “Your fucking pet stole my book.”

Somehow, Neil looked both amused and annoyed. “Are you following me or something?”

“I want my book back,” Andrew said.

“It’s not yours. And I don’t have a pet.”

“Bullshit it’s not mine,” Andrew said, but Neil was already turning away. Andrew wasn’t about to let him get away with his cryptic bullshit again, so he followed him outside.

“Leave me alone,” Neil shouted over his shoulder but Andrew grabbed his arm and spun him around. He got a hold of Neil’s shirt and shoved him bodily against the wall.

“What the fuck is going on?” he snapped. Neil blinked at him, unimpressed.

“Why should I give you anything,” Neil said, “when you’ll just take it?”

Andrew was so fed up with people accusing him of shit. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Neil snatched at Andrew’s wrist, trying to wrench free, but Andrew held fast, “go fuck yourself.”

“You tell me the truth, and I’ll let you go,” Andrew said. “Truth for a truth.”

“Well, you can’t keep me pinned all night,” Neil snarked. “Eventually you’ll have to let me go.”

Andrew glared at him, but Neil only snorted with derision.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he sneered. “Fine. Truth for a truth.”

Andrew released him and Neil straightened, smoothing his hands down his shirt where Andrew had ruffled it. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

“What, exactly, is Foxhole’s Traveling Library?”

Neil looked dumbfounded. “You don’t remember? Wymack said he already explained.”

“Humor me.”

“It’s exactly as it sounds,” Neil said, “a traveling library. Wymack founded it…I don’t know. It’s old. Older than any of us. We – me and the rest of the foxes – collect books and things for it. Anyone’s welcome, but usually only those who need it can find it.”

Andrew took a moment to process that. “It’s magic?”

“Obviously,” Neil said. “Do most libraries you know move every night?”

Andrew ignored him. “You said only people who need it can find it, yet I keep finding it. I don’t need anything.”

“For the record, I don’t believe you. But,” Neil said when Andrew clenched his fist. “you keep finding it because it’s here to collect those books you took.”

Andrew could feel his frustration rising again. He took a few breaths to calm himself down, forcing any traces of emotion off his face. “I didn’t take anything,” he said, once he’d gotten everything under control. Neil snorted again, but Andrew didn’t react.

“Okay, my turn,” he said. “How old were you when you first visited the library?”

Andrew frowned. He’d only found out about the place a couple weeks ago. “Nineteen.”

Neil shook his head slowly. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t think that’s right. You showed up before Wymack took me in, but he told me about you. Andrew Minyard. You’re the kid who kept sneaking in. He offered you a place there, but you didn’t want to stay. You took a bunch of books and ran with them.”

Andrew stared hard at him, trying to detect the lie. It was impossible – hell, the whole fucking library was impossible – but Neil didn’t seem to be lying. But as Neil’s words began to sink it, Andrew realized that he did remember it. He’d thought it was a dream, but he remembered picking up a book from a shelf and thinking Aaron would like it. He remembered stuffing it in his shirt and running home. He could never forget the bruises Tilda left on him for sneaking out of the house.

It seemed odd that Andrew had almost forgotten, given his perfect memory. But now he couldn’t stop remembering. Rough hands and tears trailing down his face, running through the streets at night looking for the library - his library. With its strange books and gruff librarian who always gave him a book to hold even though he couldn’t read it yet. The librarian had offered to shelter him after he showed up with a bruised and tear-streaked face, but Andrew had refused.

He wouldn’t leave Aaron. That’s why he wouldn’t stay. He’d taken the books because he wanted to bring a piece of the library with him, so he’d never forget. But he’d forgotten anyway.

“It’s your turn,” Neil said.

Before Andrew could sort through his tumultuous thoughts, he heard a shout behind him.

“Neil!” Andrew turned to see a large man with spiky hair jogging toward them. He wore gym shorts and a sweaty black tank top with the logo of some metal band Andrew didn’t recognize. Behind him stood Renee and a woman with short, curly hair, her arms crossed over her chest. The man regarded Andrew with a mixture of confusion and suspicion, but he addressed Neil. “You okay, buddy?”

“I’m fine, Matt,” Neil replied. The man groaned but Neil waved him off. “Really. We were just talking.”

“Alright,” Matt said, not sounding entirely convinced. “Dan was saying it’s about time we head back, yeah?”

Neil nodded and met Andrew’s eyes for a moment. Andrew would have to wait to take his turn, which meant he had time to think of what he wanted to ask. There was so much he wanted to know; it was like a strange itch spreading under his skin. Andrew hadn’t felt so interested in anything in ages. It exhilarated him, and he kind of hated it.

“It was nice meeting you, Andrew,” Renee said sweetly, giving a little wave. “Wymack has said a lot about you.”

Andrew didn’t know what to say to that, so he let them leave without a word. He dug in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes and lit one. He felt oddly drained and he didn’t particularly want to stick around and watch the last few fights of the night. So, he leaned against the wall, one foot kicked up against the patchwork of brick and mortar, and smoked his cigarette to the filter while he did his best to sort out his thoughts and newfound memories into something more comprehensible.

After he finished his first cigarette, he lit another. He was still uncertain, but he thought, perhaps, that he would like to see the library again.

~

There was a smudge of ink on the inside-cover of The Giver. Andrew brushed his fingers over it, wondering why he had never put much thought to it before. It was black and nearly-illegible, but he could make out the words “Fox” and “Library” where the water damage wasn’t so bad. He flipped open his last book, a beaten-up copy of Charlotte’s Web to find a similar ink-stain inside. The words were almost completely obliterated, but he could still see the stamp of a tiny fox that Andrew had seen on the sign hanging in front of the library.

The books that Andrew had kept with him for almost fifteen years belonged to Foxhole’s Traveling Library.

When Andrew and Aaron were eight and Aaron first started getting sick, Andrew would read Charlotte’s Web to him until he fell asleep. He told him about The Giver and how he would have hated to have his emotions taken away from him like that. All this time, they were from the library that Andrew had loved and forgotten. And he didn’t even know.

Andrew slammed his books shut and shoved them under his bed. He watched his sleeping brother for a moment, listened to his steady breathing, and left.

He needed to find Neil.

~

The streets were empty, despite it not being that late out. Andrew didn’t really know where he was going, but he pointed his feet in a direction and walked. It seemed like ages before he found the library, sitting in the middle of an In-N-Out parking lot. But when Andrew tried the door, he found that it was locked.

He waited for someone to show for an hour before he left again. He wandered around until he heard shouting and what sounded like an animal crying out in pain. When Andrew went to investigate, he found two guys smelling of booze. They were shouting incoherently, and throwing bottles at a spitting-mad fox cornered against the wall.

The guy with a white hoodie moved to kick it, but Andrew ran forward and kicked him in the back of the knee before he could. There was a horrible pop and Hoodie fell to the ground in a heap of flailing limbs with an agonized scream. Andrew grabbed him by the front of his hoodie and slammed him to the ground but before he could do it again, Hoodie’s friend wrenched him away and pushed him back. Andrew withdrew his knife, but he was unbalanced and caught a nasty right-hook to the side of his face. His knife fell somewhere to the side, but Andrew didn’t have time to reach for it before the man smashed a bottle against the side of his head. Andrew’s vision went white and he crumbled to the ground.

“Asshole,” the man spat. Andrew flipped him off but he couldn’t see much through the blood streaming into his eyes. The man pulled his arm back for another swing, but movement by the wall caught both his and Andrew’s attention.

Neil staggered over to them, bruised and battered and looking absolutely worse for wear. “Leave him alone,” he snarled and launched himself at the man. Neil was smaller than him, but that didn’t stop him from getting a few good punches in and buying Andrew enough time to get off the ground. He was unsteady on his feet, but he got his balance and grabbed a hold on Neil’s shirt.

“Come on,” he said, yanking him away from getting punched into oblivion. His head was throbbing and he still had trouble seeing, but Neil gripped him under the arm and supported some of his weight while they ran.

“I thought you were supposed to be good at fighting,” Neil panted once they were far enough away. It only took Andrew a second to realize that Neil had led them back to the library.

“Shut up,” Andrew replied, breathing heavily. He used his sleeve to wipe some of the blood from his face. He didn’t think the cut was that bad, but he’d probably need stitches. “You’re the fox?”

Neil flexed his hand, wincing when his knuckles twinged. “I thought that was obvious.”

Andrew stared at him in disbelief. “Yes, because that makes total sense.”

“Magic library. Shape-shifting foxes.” Neil shrugged, and then wrapped his arm around his ribs with a pained groan. “Shit,” he said and slumped to the ground.

Andrew followed him down. He motioned for Neil to sit cross-legged and checked his knuckles. He swiped his finger over them, wiping away some of the blood, and Neil let out a pained hiss.

“Friends of yours?” Andrew asked.

Neil shook his head with barely-suppressed anger. “Just a couple assholes who like to hurt animals.”

“Well,” Andrew said. “I hope I broke that guy’s knee, then.”

“Thanks,” Neil said. He met Andrew eyes. His lips pursed when he saw the mess the asshole made of Andrew’s face, but he held his gaze. “You saved me.”

Andrew shrugged it off. He didn’t know why Neil was looking at him like that, or why it terrified him and made something jolt in his chest at the same time. He looked away, smoothing over his expression into something that resembled boredom. “You look like a punching bag,” he said. “There’s a first-aid kit at the house.”

“No need.” Neil pushed to his feet with a grunt. “The library will do just fine. Coming in?”

Andrew didn’t know what he meant by that, but he followed Neil through the doors all the same. They weren’t unlocked anymore – or at least they weren’t locked for Neil.

The cuts on Neil’s face and hands began to heal as soon he stepped over the threshold. Andrew really shouldn’t have been surprised, but he couldn’t look away as the bruises faded as if they were never there.

“Nothing can hurt us here,” Neil said as Andrew felt his own wounds begin to heal.

They walked through the library, neither wanting to leave their quiet sanctuary. Andrew was sure the other foxes were hanging around somewhere, but the place was huge enough to get lost in and Andrew knew that they would not be bothered. He didn’t really know why he was still here, just a couple weeks ago he had been furious at Neil for stealing his book. But now a small part of him kind of wanted to hold his hand. Andrew shoved that very small part to the back of his mind before he could do something stupid like actually reach out for Neil.

They were on the third floor of the library, in a section labeled Unwritten Books, when Neil rocked to a halt beside Andrew. He turned to him and reach out, stopping his hand just short of Andrew’s face.

Andrew swallowed. He didn’t know what Neil planned to do, but he met Neil’s eyes and nodded once in permission. Neil brushed his fingers over Andrew’s temple, where the bottle had hit him.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his fingers pressed to the spot where the gash would have been. “Sometimes it doesn’t heal all of it.”

Andrew touched his temple and felt a bump from a scar. It hadn’t been there before. Andrew grabbed Neil’s hand and moved it away from his face. He squeezed once and Neil tucked his hands in his pockets.

“Do not apologize,” Andrew ordered. It wasn’t Neil’s fault, and Andrew didn’t like the sad expression in Neil’s eyes. “And don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Neil asked.

Andrew ignored the question. It was his turn, and he told Neil so. He’d been thinking of what he wanted to ask, and now he thought he was ready.

“Why are you here?”

Neil looked surprised at the question, but then he motioned for Andrew to sit. Andrew sat with his back to the bookshelf and his arms draped over his knees. Neil mirrored him. He was quiet for a long time before he spoke.

“I was running from my father.” He motioned to his face. “He’s the one that did this. To say that he was a shitty father would be an understatement. He was a monster.”

Andrew knew plenty about monsters that pretended to be human. He’s had monsters of his own. Some being Tilda and her string of boyfriends that varied from strung-out drug addicts to heavy-handed abusers. Sometimes they were worse, but Andrew tried not to think about them. He wasn’t familiar with Neil’s sort of monster, but he stayed quiet and gave Neil his full attention.

Neil rubbed at the circular burn scars on his cheek. “A couple years back, he killed my mother. Beat her to death with a metal pipe. He would have killed me, but I ran. I just kept running, and somehow I ended up here. If Wymack hadn’t taken me in, I would have died.”

Andrew thought of offering Andrew a place to stay, so many years ago. “He takes in a lot of strays,” he noted.

“The old man is soft,” Neil said, fondly. Then he frowned. “Why didn’t you stay?”

Andrew exhaled heavily. “My brother,” he said. “I wouldn’t leave him. This was before he got sick, but he was always mine to protect. If I left him, I am not sure he would have survived.”

“He’s sick?”

Andrew grit his teeth until his jaw ached and gave a jerky nod. “It’s worse these days,” is all he said. He really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Andrew,” Neil whispered. “The library probably won’t come back once you return the rest of your books.”

“I know.”

Neil’s voice had an edge to it but Andrew couldn’t tell if it was from anger or from something else. Something closer to desperation. “You can’t keep them forever.”

“I know.” Ever since Andrew rediscovered the library, he knew he would not be allowed to keep it. The library, Wymack, even the beginnings of this something between him and Neil. Soon enough, Andrew was going to have to say goodbye.

~

Aaron’s condition worsened few weeks into December. San Jose was not a city that froze over during its winters, but the cold months always made him struggle more and the sudden temperature drop this year had been merciless. Andrew checked on him regularly, but Aaron would always make him leave the room. Andrew had a sneaking suspicion it was because Aaron didn’t want to get him sick, too.

When Tilda got home a little after two in the morning, Andrew was fuming. He confronted her in the kitchen while she tottered around looking for food. Her eyes were red and unfocused and Andrew wasn’t entirely sure if she was aware that he was there at all.

Andrew hated her.

“Aaron’s sick,” he said, forcing his voice to be even. Despite his best efforts, his words trembled with rage.

Tilda turned to him, leaning against the counter so she wouldn’t topple over, and regarded him with bleary eyes. “Make him better, then,” she slurred.

Andrew had spent the last decade of his life trying to make him better, with no help from Tilda. Andrew worked two jobs and got into illegal street-fighting to pay the bills while Tilda got drunk and high for days at a time. Her son was dying and she did not care.

Andrew clenched his hands into fists to stop the shaking, but Tilda didn’t notice. She dug around in her purse and withdrew a prescription bottle full of various pills. She shook some out onto her palm and studied them.

Andrew crossed the kitchen and knocked them out of her hand. The candy-colored pills clattered to the ground, scattering across the dirty floorboards. “He’s sick!” he snarled. “He needs medicine.”

Tilda went very still, and for a moment the world stopped spinning. Andrew didn’t register the slap at first, just that his face stung and there was a sharp, metallic taste in his mouth. Everything jolted back into motion with that slap.

“You ungrateful shit,” Tilda hissed. She was shaking a finger in Andrew’s face, but Andrew hardly noticed. He had his hand pressed to his cheek, where Tilda had hit him. “You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me. Don’t go telling me what to do, I don’t owe you anything!”

Andrew said nothing while she stalked away. He could feel his lip starting to swell under his hand. He pressed his finger to the cut and it came away red. Andrew was moving before he really thought about it. One minute he was standing in the kitchen with a stinging face, and the next he was digging for a book from under his bed. Charlotte’s Web. That’ll do.

It was only a couple of hours until sunrise, but Andrew didn’t have trouble finding the library. All the other times he tried to enter without a book, the doors would not open and Neil would have to come out onto the front stoop with him. But this time the doors parted easily, and Andrew was greeted with a blast of warm air and the tingling sensation of his bloodied lip beginning to heal.

Neil saw it anyway and was across the room in an instant.

“Who did that to you?” he demanded.

“My mother.” Andrew spat the word. “I asked her to parent for once.”

Neil looked ready to fight, but Andrew shoved the book at him before he could say anything. He took it, confused, before glancing at the cover. “Oh,” he said. “Are you sure?”

“Shut up,” Andrew said and Neil nodded. He motioned for Andrew to follow him and brought him to a section of the library on the sixth floor.

The shelves up here were filled with more books, but Andrew spied a few strange objects that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Andrew picked one up. It was about the size of his palm, with nine interlocking gold rings that spun around each other. It reminded Andrew of rings circling a planet, or maybe a strange, metal flower.

“That’s Matt’s work,” Neil said once he caught Andrew looking. “He’s more of a creator than a collector. Most of these are his.”

“Most?” Andrew asked. He nudged one ring and it spun backwards. The rest of the rings followed suit.

“Some of them are Allison’s. One or two might be Nicky’s, but he never really got a hang of it.”

Andrew replaced the object back on the shelf, careful not to crush the delicate metalwork, and he and Neil continued through the maze of bookshelves. Eventually, they came upon a shelf labeled Lost Books. The shelf was empty except for a single book: Andrew’s old copy of Watership Down.

Neil placed Charlotte’s Web next to it and turned to Andrew without meeting his eyes, his hand lingering on the shelf. He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. “This could be yours,” he said and finally looked up.

There was an empty space on the plaque, right under the label. It had enough room for a name, like all the other shelves in the library. Neil brushed his hand over it, finger unconsciously looping around to form a word.

Andrew.

“You could stay here,” continued Neil. “You could be a fox and collect books or make things. Anything. You could get away from your mom.”

“I won’t leave Aaron,” Andrew reminded him.

Andrew could see the disappointment on Neil’s face, but he nodded. “Okay,” he said. He stooped to sit with his back against the shelf, reminiscent of the time they sheltered between the shelves and started their question game. Andrew sat next to him. He left an inch of space between them, but Andrew’s knee nudged Neil’s and they were close enough that he could feel Neil’s warmth.

“You should see this place during the day,” Neil said, as if Andrew would ever be allowed to. “There’s so many windows, the sunlight catches Matt’s creations and everything turns gold.”

Neil wasn’t looking at him, which gave Andrew every opportunity to watch without being seen in return. Freckles dashed across the bridge of his nose, like tiny constellations of stars that Andrew wished to name. His eyes were an even deeper blue in the dimness of the library, and light danced in them as he gazed at the bookshelves full of books and gadgets. A small smile ghosted across Neil’s face. “It’s really beautiful.”

Looking at Neil, Andrew agreed.

“Oh,” Neil said with a small laugh when he noticed Andrew’s attention, “you can stare, but when I do it – ”

Andrew kissed him. He felt Neil’s breath hitch against his lips and Andrew pulled back with a surge of panic.

“Shit,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He started to get up, but Neil stopped him with a hand hovering over his arm. Andrew looked in the general direction of the exit, wondering if he could still make a break for it.

“Wait,” Neil said. “Do we have to stop?”

Andrew pressed his thumb to his bottom lip. He couldn’t stop thinking about the weight of Neil’s mouth against his.

“Andrew,” Neil urged. Andrew gazed at him for a long moment before sitting down again.

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it right.

“Yes,” Neil breathed, and leaned in.

Andrew hooked his fingers in the color of Neil’s sweatshirt as they kissed. He used it as an anchor, soft fabric brushing against his hand while he got lost in the waves washing over him. Time stood still and Andrew’s mind wiped clean. It was just him and Neil, no impending deadline looming over them for when Andrew returned his last book. For a moment, they were infinite.

When they separated, Andrew had to take a few seconds to relearn how to breathe before he opened his eyes. He wondered why they had stopped kissing until he saw the soft light reaching out for them.

“It’s morning,” Neil said. He swallowed roughly. Andrew’s eyes followed the movement of his throat and then skipped back to Neil’s face. His lips were red from kissing, his eyes blown. Andrew watched him form the words as he said, “Library’s closing.”

Andrew extracted himself from Neil, taking a few deep breaths to get himself together. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, fingers wrapping around his lighter and cigarettes. He itched to light one, but he didn’t.

“Hey,” Neil said. Andrew glanced at him. “I’ll see you tonight?”

Andrew didn’t respond, but he pulled Neil in for another quick kiss. He and Neil both knew that he would show up on the steps of the library as soon as night fell and Aaron was asleep. However much time he and Neil had, Andrew would not waste it.

~

Tilda was missing, of course. She had never been there for her sons; not when Aaron lost his first tooth, or when Andrew broke his arm climbing a tree, or when they both miraculously graduated high school. It made sense that she was missing now, when Aaron’s temperature was rising and there was no money left to buy more ibuprofen. He’d given Aaron the last of it an hour ago but he wasn’t getting better.

No money, no medicine, and no mother.

“Mom?” Aaron croaked. It was the first thing he’d said in a while, and it almost made Andrew jump. They both knew that Tilda would not show up, but Aaron seemed too out of it to really understand.

“She ran to the store to get more milk,” Andrew said. It was an old lie he used to tell Aaron when Tilda had gone off on another bender. He’d stopped making excuses for her when they were twelve and Aaron had to go to the hospital when he stopped breathing. Andrew didn’t know why he said it now. Maybe because he wanted to offer this last scrap hope to his brother and he knew that he wouldn’t last long enough to be disappointed.

Andrew pressed his hand against Aaron’s forehead, pushing his hair off his sweat-slicked skin to gauge his temperature. He didn’t have a thermometer, but he didn’t need one to know that Aaron was very, very sick. He was barely conscious, puffy eyes cracked open as he struggled to breathe. The pneumonia had settled in his lungs shortly after Andrew delivered the book, and now he was left to watch his brother deteriorate and wonder if he could have done something more.

Andrew had promised to meet Neil, but he’s barely been able to leave Aaron’s bedside for days. He leaned his head against the bedframe of Aaron’s bed and wondered if he’d ever see Neil again. Andrew supposed that he could leave the last book on the porch for Neil to pick up and take to the library. Their stolen moments together would have to be enough.

It was well into the night and Andrew was still sitting sentinel on the floor beside Aaron’s bed.

“Do you remember,” he whispered, “when I used to read to you?”

Aaron didn’t respond, his breathing too labored, but Andrew continued to talk. “I found a library. You would like it. It’s huge and filled with thousands of books and I’ve almost gotten lost in it a couple times. I’ll take you to it, when you get better.”

Andrew wasn’t sure if Aaron would make the trip. He clenched his jaw for several seconds, not wanting to think of his brother not making it.

“You have to get better, Aaron,” Andrew said and Aaron replied with a weak cough.

A loud thump on the window nearly made Andrew jump out of his skin. He glanced at Aaron before seeing what had made the noise. When he saw who was standing below, he shoved the window open.

“Hey,” Neil shouted up to him. “Grab your book.”

Neil came upstairs a couple minutes later with Matt and Dan in tow. Andrew stared at them, dumbfounded. “I already said that I’m not leaving Aaron.”

“Which is why,” Matt said as he eased Aaron up into a sitting position, “we’re bringing him with us.”

He lifted Aaron out of the bed like he weighed nothing to him. He probably didn’t, Aaron had hardly been able to eat anything these past few days.

Andrew gripped his arm to stop him taking his brother anywhere. “What the fuck will that do except make him worse?” he demanded.

“We reckon the library will heal him,” Dan responded. She raised her eyebrows at Andrew, giving him a stern look until he let go of Matt’s arm. “Now where’s that book?”

Neil darted to the window. “Quickly,” he said. “Before the sun rises.”

Three shapeshifting foxes, one book thief, and a dying nineteen-year-old made it to the library just as the first vestiges of night faded from the sky. It was in the lot Andrew had stumbled across so long ago, it felt like a dream.

Neil was right, the library was beautiful during the day. At night, the interior of the library was dark except for the old-fashioned lamps that hung between the bookshelves. But now light streamed in through the giant windows, catching all the golden details and making it shimmer. The light caught a stream of dust motes that twinkled like tiny golden stars, and dapples of light danced across the white marble.

The strange posse brought him to the self-help desk where Wymack sat. His eyebrows rose when he saw them, but he sat up when he saw Aaron’s limp form in Matt’s arms. Andrew placed the book on the desk between them.

“One book for two places in the library,” he said.

Wymack regarded them for a long moment. “That one still alive?” he grunted, nodding towards Aaron.

Dan pulled over a chair so Matt could set Aaron down. He was so still, and when Matt stepped back Aaron’s head lolled limply to the side. For one heart-stopping second, Andrew thought that they’d failed and his brother was gone. But then Aaron’s eyes blinked open as he let out a small groan.

He squinted in the light, eyes slowly moving around the library before focusing on Andrew’s face. “This your library?” he rasped. It was the most coherent he sounded in days. “Thought it’d bigger.”

Andrew let out a disbelieving huff. He could have been sick with relief. “It is big, asshole.”

Aaron laughed weakly. His face was regaining color by the minute and he didn’t look so gaunt. Andrew knew he was going to be okay. He exchanged a look at Neil, who gave him a small smile. Andrew almost smiled back.

“Welcome to Foxhole’s Traveling Library,” Wymack said. “It’s about god damn time.”

[axther]

children are meant to be cradled, not placed in wars

a bnha/reader fic

chapter one 

YN was normal. 

She lived in a neighbourhood that had good families and minimal crime. She was popular at school, and her best friend was the quiet, weird kid stereotype. Some part of YN wondered why it was all monotone, but then her friend would pull her along and they would commit some minor crime like regular teenagers. 

One day, after hopping over fences into a house that YN and her friend had deemed their own but definitely hadn’t bought, said friend was staring at YN. 

The friend, Soma Quinn, wasn’t normal. She always wore the same clothes (a pair of worn jeans, a Bethesda Dark Brotherhood jacket, grey converse, and a black tank top), and had to repeat herself to get her points across. She had only one ear, as when she was seven, she played with scissors too much and sheared it off. She kept to herself and looked constantly like she wanted to fight someone. But Soma was sweet and would babble for hours about her games and stories. 

Today, though, something was off. 

Soma had a slight staring problem. She would retract into her head like a turtle, it’s shell and stare into nothing. But, if she was staring at something in particular, like YN, then that was exactly what she was thinking of. 

“What’s up? Thinkin’ about, uhh,” YN dropped her voice. “Murder?” 

“Kidnapping, actually.” 

“Ooh, fancy. Who?” 

“You.” Soma batted her eyes. 

“Oh?” YN smirked. “You should take me out to dinner first.” “What do you call this?” 

“Oof, fair.” YN blinked. “But seriously. What’s up?” 

“I’ve been having dreams again.” Soma frowned. “Nightmares.” 

YN furrowed her brow, standing up. “What is it this time?” 

“You know that thing where your ear rings out of nowhere and you wonder if you’ve got tinnitus or something?” Soma began biting her lip, the previous abrasions on the bottom lip not even having scabbed over yet. 

“Yeah?” 

“It starts out like that. Then I see this big ass comet. And then, like, it’s Fallout Four, without any green mods. And there’s no Sole Survivor.” 

YN was silent. Soma had nightmares, ones that she took medicine for, but they would always come true. They varied; from YN’s father getting into a car accident to one of their classmates trying to shoot up the school. Every time Soma called out her dreams, actions would be taken, and disaster would be avoided. And they were always right. 

“What can we do, Som?” 

“Gay panic, probably.” Soma put her head on her fist. “We can’t stop a comet, but…”

YN stopped pacing. “But, what?” 

Soma said nothing but continued staring at YN. The bigger youth began pacing again, and her eyes started tearing up. 

“Oh my god. I don’t want to die. What about Mom and Dad? And...and we didn’t get to grow up! I wanted to go to the WTF Championships after my internship! You wanted to work at Bethesda! God! What the fuck!” 

“There’s a hack we can use. But just us.” 

“But what about-” 

“Everyone else thought I was a freak. Even my own parents. But you don’t. Or if you do, then you don’t care. And honestly, that’s even better. I would kill for you, and I would die for you.” Soma glanced up at YN, and YN felt a chill go down her spine. There was a dark look in Soma’s eyes that was dangerous, like something deep and primal that neither of them had seen before had been untapped. 

“I can’t let you die.” 

Before YN could say anything more, a blue light lit up the floor. At first, it was just a circular pattern with a script that YN didn’t recognise, but then it filled out until lit looked like a cyan liquid (definitely not water; it wouldn’t be this bright) that splashed around and landed on YN’s bare arms. The outside of it began to collapse, with splintered wood and asbestos crumbling into dust and nothingness. YN started to pant, trying to grasp the situation. 

“What the hell? Som, Som, what-” 

“I am so sorry, YN/N.” Soma’s dark look became guilty and sad. “You and I can live free, now.” 

“Wait-!”  

And then, YN fell. 

Falling to her death was nothing like what YN expected. 

In all the movies and books and shows, it took a long time, with inner dialogue playing and no actual worry. But this was completely different. YN couldn’t think, and her throat felt like it had been sucker punched. The wind rushed past her, and she couldn’t breathe, and oh god, she was going to die- 

But then, the smell of pine trees and sweat and a swath of white and black took over her senses. 

Something, someone, had grabbed her bridal style, seven hundred feet in the air. 

“I’ve got you! Don’t panic!”

The voice was loud and almost squeaky, but male. He seemed like a teenager, but no teenager could jump as high as YN was. She shook, her mind fuzzy and boggled. There was a controlled descent now, and YN could breathe again. When he landed, he gently set her down on her feet, and she fell to her knees. 

“Oh! Are you ok? Are you injured?” 

His voice was drowned out by the buzzing in her ears, and a distant humming. She could’ve sworn that it was familiar before it abruptly stopped. 

“-s hurt, and she won’t respond, and oh gosh! What if she’s injured? How do I get her attention? Eraserhead hasn’t shown us emergency procedure yet, and what if she’s in shock? Of course, she’s in shock, you idiot!” The boy, who too had kneeled, was non-stop mumbling to himself. YN didn’t look up, but she listened. 

“She hasn’t suffocated, I don’t think...ah! What would All Might do? Should I get Thirteen? He’ll know what to do! He is a pro-hero, after all! But she shouldn’t be left on her own...should I ask Ochako? I probably shouldn’t yell, she might have a headache from that fall. And I didn’t bring my phone! Ah!” 

YN glanced up, and she had her breath taken away for the second time that day. 

The boy before her (he was definitely a boy, she conceded) had huge green eyes and a smattering of freckles in perfect twin diamonds, but what astounded her the most was the mop of green hair. It looked perfectly natural, and even a little bit ungroomed, and it was increasingly surreal the more she looked at him. He was ridiculously pretty and seemed like he had stepped out of a movie. 

“Excuse me,” She croaked. Her throat hurt, but she was confused above all.

“Ah!” The boy jumped again, striking a pose that seemed like an exaggerated surprise. “You can talk!” 

“Where am I?” The more she glanced around, the less familiar it was, and the boy got out of the pose. 

“You’re in Mustafu, ma’am.” He kneeled again. “Are you feeling alright?” He stuttered a bit on the ‘alright’, but seemed determined. 

“For, uh,” YN glanced up, but the sinkhole was gone. “For falling, I think so.” 

“Can you walk?” He held out a hand, and YN grabbed it. It had scars littered all over it, but it seemed quite soft. 

She tested her weight and found that she was alright, for the most part. She nodded. 

“I need to take you to some pro-heroes, so they can take care of you. Okay?” He tilted her head when she let out an undignified snort. 

“Heroes?” 

“Yeah,” He looked confused. “You know, like Thirteen, and Present Mic, and All…” He trailed off when YN’s brow furrowed further.

“What?” 

“Oh no!” He looked shocked and guilty. “Maybe you hit your head and forgot!” 

“Forgot-no, I didn’t forget-” 

“Come on! We need to get you checked!” 

He ushered her towards two figures and an ambulance, one of which looked like an over-inflated astronaut. Only then did YN realise that there was a huge crater in the ground, stemming from where the sinkhole was situated above. She blinked, perhaps stupidly, before pointing to it. 

“Did I...do that?” 

The boy glanced over and grinned sheepishly. “No, haha...that was me.” 

YN paled. “You?” 

“Yeah. It’s kind of a side effect of my quirk. I can’t control it too well. I’m getting better though!” He grinned cheerily, and YN paled. 

“What?” She whimpered, but the boy didn’t hear her. He took her to the astronaut and a blonde man. 

“Thirteen! This is the girl that fell! I think she has some memory problems…” 

“Good job, Midoriya.” The astronaut turned to YN and took her spare hand. “Please, come with me. We’re gonna give you a check-up.” 

YN choked on her words, glancing between the astronaut and the boy Midoriya, and then to the blonde man with the gravity-defying peaked hair and yellow sunglasses that wouldn’t stop grinning. The astronaut gently guided her to an older woman, letting the teen sputter the entire time. 

“This is Recovery Girl,” He gestured. “She can take care of you, and see if you have any head injuries.” 

He handed her over, and YN stared at the woman. She was most definitely not a girl and reminded her of her grandmother, but she looked matronly and had a pink and purple visor. 

“Hello. Come, sit, sit!” She patted at the edge of the ambulance, and YN did as she was told. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a massive medical needle and felt her heart leap up to her throat. Recovery Girl followed her line of sight and laughed. 

“Don’t worry! That’s my cane! It matches my line of work, obviously.” She smiled, and YN felt a little less apprehensive. 

“What?” YN murmured, biting her lip. 

“Does anything hurt, my dear?” Recovery Girl began putting pressure on YN’s limbs, seeing if there was pain. “It doesn’t look like anything is broken, but it is a precaution to check.” 

“My head…” YN felt like her skull was splitting from her fresh migraine. “It hurts.” 

“Ah!” Recovery Girl leapt up, and YN had to admit, she was surprisingly spry and youthful. She went behind YN and gently placed her palms on her cranium. There was a feather-light touch, and the pain seeped away. Inexplicable sleepiness came over YN, and she felt her eyes begin to drop. 

Her head nodded forward, and she fell asleep. 

(Me, a full ass gamer w/ Xbox, Playstation, PC, and Switch: what r some,,,,,,,,vido gaem word)

[ceruleanmusings]

bike built for two | scott x tessa

Because I couldn’t come up with a better title. Anyway! A little gift for @isaaclahys​ because apparently it’s super easy for me to write when I’m not agonizing writing my own ships. Somehow after sharing my writing woes with you and creating a writing plan, this idea smacked me upside the head and I had to bang it out while I have the inspiration. So have Scott and Tessa being all cute on a nice bike ride! (Also tagging @sgtbuckyybarnes​ for a few Perrie mentions.)

------

The heavy thud of a helmet dropping onto the table jerked Tessa out of her advanced placement biology haze, yanking her out of the riveting world of enzymes. Her fisted hand, which had previously been acting as a pseudo pillow on her cheek, landed on the table as she jerked upright, startled. Eyes wide, lips parting in a ready effort to apologize to the librarian, her panicked disposition eased at the sight of Scott’s lopsided smile.

“What’re you doing here?” Tessa asked, leaning back in her chair, arms stretched above her head. She sighed at the cracks and pops that ran up her stretched spine. Geeze, how long had she been sitting in that chair?

“Liam said you were studying and may need a ride home,” he explained, drumming his fingers on the crown of the helmet. What once used to be stark white was now mottled with dirt smears and cracks.

She froze midway through a yawn, her face sticking mid-contort with her tongue sticking out. His smile pulled back further on the side and he pushed a laugh through his nose. A burning flush crept up her neck and she leaned forward, settling her chair back on four legs. “Did he?” she mumbled, reaching for her phone. She noticed the little blue light blinking in the top left corner and then remembered. Her phone was on silent. She always silences her phone when she’s studying AP Bio. Because even though she needed the class it could still kiss her ass.

Swiping the screen with her thumb, she unlocked it and read the message Liam had sent an hour and a half ago, judging by the time stamp:

Nvm got a ride home frm Mase Don’t study 2 hard I’m sndin Scott if u don’t hve a ride

Tessa’s eyelid twitched, whether it was at the sight of Liam’s horrendous texting shortcuts or from the weight of studying for so long smacking into her, she didn’t know. Letting out a long breath, she rubbed at her eyes and then turned a smile up at Scott. “I appreciate it. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Oh, uhm, I kind of didn’t.” At her probing gaze, Scott rubbed the back of his neck. The thick denim material of his favorite riding jacket strained beneath his flexing arm. Tessa’s eyes traced the curve of the bulge a few seconds too long. “I kind of had detention.”

“You?” Her head tilted to the side. “All the teachers love you. What did you do?”

“I kind of fell asleep in English class.” His smile, so sheepish, pulled his lower lip in between his teeth and Tessa had a flash of wondering what that lip would feel like between her teeth. With a good shake of her head and a plastered on smile she forced that thought away, hoping beyond hope that her increased heartbeat didn’t

“Yeah, well, you get a werewolf pass due to your extracurriculars.”

“Not from Mr. Brady. Anyway…I came to see if you were still here. I called your name a couple times. Guess you didn’t hear me. Ap Bio’s rough, huh?”

“Yeah but…” she shrugged, “if I want to be anything like my dad, I need to take the class.”

Scott nodded. “I get it.”

And she knew he did. Wanting to become a veterinarian himself wasn’t an easy feat. She wasn’t as surprised as Kira and Lydia were when he first dropped into the seat next to her on the first day of classes. They even spoke about it when picking classes last semester, before the school year ended. He’d been going back and forth about it for ages, whether to stay on the normal science track or take the risk and try for the advanced placement. He didn’t feel like he was fit for it, smart for it, right for it. Tessa had no problems telling him all the ways he was wrong. It took her two hours by phone and she missed her nightly skype call with Perrie to do it but it was worth it. It was worth Perrie’s (exaggerated) wrath of being slighted to see the pride in his eye when he managed an A-minus on their first test. Scott didn’t have enough faith in himself; if she needed to slap him with a good dose of faith, so be it.

“So.” He tapped an uneven beat on his helmet and then picked it up, spinning it between his fingers. “Ready to go?”

“Home. Right, yes!” Tessa squeezed her eyes shut and quelled another yawn. Huh, maybe he came at the right time. “Just let me stop by my locker first.”

“No problem. Take your time.”

Tessa gathered up her books and, standing, nestled them into the crook of her elbow. She quickly glanced around the table, ensuring that she snatched up the candy bar wrapper that she left behind before the librarian saw it. (She was a total stickler for the rules, no eating or drinking being the biggest one. She apparently didn’t care when they were all biting their nails as exams came around.) As she lifted her backpack off the back of the chair her hair fell into her face. She blew it away a couple of times, grumbling as she lifted her strap up to her shoulder.

Fingers brushed against her cheek. She froze, a stirring kicking around in her stomach as she followed the fingers up to a palm and then down the denim-clad arm up to Scott’s smiling face. A shiver rolled down her spine at his gentle touch, as he pushed her hair behind her ear, his thumb brushing against her cheek. Her quick choice of a half-updo that morning came with more benefits than just appearing put together at the last minute, apparently.

“Thanks,” she said, managing a smile.

Scott shrugged a shoulder. “No problem.”

No problem. As if he were helping out a friend. Of course. Because that’s what they were. Just friends.

They walked shoulder to shoulder out of the library and through the different levels of the school until they reached the bank of senior lockers. Tessa quickly spun the dial on her metallic red lock to Liam’s numbers—09 for his lacrosse number, 27 for the day he was born, and 02 for being the second favorite child in the family—and threw her books in. She could deal without AP Bio for one night. She could only hope Ms. Finch didn’t throw a pop quiz at them.

Unzipping her bag, she swapped out a few of her notebooks, double checked she had her calculator for math, crossed off the day on her mini magnetic calendar hanging amongst the pictures of her and her friends, grabbed the jacket she’d borrowed from Lydia, making a mental note to clean it and bring it back the next day, and shoved it unceremoniously into her bag. (Another note: get out the wrinkles before Lydia stabs you with a heel). When she turned, Scott’s eyebrows lifted.

“Ready?” he asked, spinning his keys around his finger.

She nodded. “Ready.”

Except what she wasn’t ready for was approaching the lone motorcycle in the parking lot and suddenly remembering that—duh!—it was what he’d taken today and she’d have to get on it. Her fingers tightened against the strap of her bag and her lips pressed together. How the entire existence of his helmet wasn’t a clue to her made her mentally slap herself and tell herself that maybe Perrie was right and she did need a break from studying. How could she miss that?

Scott loved that bike. He kept it clean and kept up with the oil change and the maintenance and made sure to get the inspection done as early as possible. Even if a little bug got smashed on the number plate at the front he’d be sure it was gone before his next trip. As if sensing her growing apprehension Scott flashed a smile at her over his shoulder, “Don’t worry, I’m a safe driver.”

“Great.”

It wasn’t him she was worried about; it was everyone else. Everyone else and their blind spots. Everyone else and their blind spots and the sheer statistics of motorcycle accidents that her father had drilled into her head ever since she brought up the idea of following in his medical footsteps. Because she needed to see the reality of the world, he’d said. Needed to know what happens when people play games in traffic, he said. Needed to really get what could happen when no one was paying attention, he said.

She saw it, she knew it, she got it. And it’s why she’d avoided getting on that thing ever since the moment Scott walked away from Crowe’s Nest Cycles with keys in his tight fist. Since then, as far as she knew, only Isaac and Kira got rides on it. Hell, if Stiles wouldn’t sit on it she wouldn’t either (hey, he had to be right about something sometime.)

But then Scott flashed that smile at her and she felt her resolve crumbling. Scott wouldn’t let her get hurt, she told herself as she watched him lift the bike seat to bring out another helmet. This one was red. She’d seen Kira in it before. Her mouth twisted for a brief moment at the thought and then pushed it away. They were good. They were friends. No sense in getting bent out of shape. Before you get bent up being flung over the handlebars! her mind screamed. She batted that away.

“You have a jacket right? That one from your locker?” Scott asked her. She nodded. “You might want to put that on. Just in case. Not that I don’t like your shirt.” He nodded towards her scoop neck tie-dye tee; an afternoon diy stress reliever she made with Perrie, Kira, and Mel. Hers was the only one that ended up looking like an actual tie dye shirt compared to their blotted creations. “But, I mean, it looks a lot better when you don’t have road rash.”

She nodded but couldn’t unlock her elbows from being pinned to her sides as she stared at the green bike. Statistics flashed through her mind. Did you know motorcyclists face more injuries and fatalities than cars? Did you know motorcycles make up 14% of all traffic deaths? Did you know in 42% of all fatal car accidents the vehicle was turning left when a biker was overtaking? Sheesh, if her father wanted to scare her away from something, he really knew how to make a lasting impression.

“Hey.” The tender tone to Scott’s words made her blink and then suck in a breath. He stood so close; she could almost feel the heat radiating off his skin. She could smell the distinct spicy scent of his body wash wafting off him, crashing over her. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. Okay?” He grasped her elbows and gave them a squeeze. “I’ll drive slow.”

His thumbs rubbing over the joints of her elbows—or the lateral condyle as her bio book said—and that was it. She came undone. “Okay,” she said, nodding, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat.

“Okay,” he repeated. He stepped away and she almost made a noise at the lack of heat near her. Get a grip, Dunbar. This isn’t friend behavior! She turned away from him, ducking her head to wiggle the jacket out of her backpack. She zipped it back up and put it on. It was a little thick for April but it would do on short notice. He held out the spare helmet to her and she took it, briefly look at her reflection in the visor and pulled it down over her head.

The cushioned inside squeezed her face but after a few seconds it grew comfortable. Scott stepped forward and adjusted the strap and then wiggled her head, making sure it fit properly. When he was satisfied, he gave a thumbs up which she mimicked. He slid his helmet over his head with ease, keeping the visor open as he went back to the bike. He stuck the keys in the ignition, swung his leg over the bike, settled on, turned it on, lifted the kickstand, and—

Tessa jumped when the motorcycle roared to life, easing into a settled purr a few seconds later. He pulled on some gloves and then turned to Tessa. “Okay,” he called out over the noise, “you’re going to get on the back. Your feet go here; keep them there. Don’t take them off unless I’m stopped. Don’t touch the exhaust pipe or muffler, you’ll get burned. It gets pretty hot.”

I bet it does, she thought, her eyes roaming Scott from head to toe. It was one thing seeing him ride around on the bike it was another to…experience that up close. The air of danger that came of him in waves and called out to her, dare her to get closer.

“…and lean when I lean. Got it?”

“Oh, yeah! Got it!” Tessa blinked and shook her head and approached the vibrating bike. She eyed where he said to put her feet and, after taking a breath, mounted. It wasn’t too graceful, she felt like a dog lifting their leg for a moment, but managed to settle on and scooted forward until she was comfortable enough in the seat. The vibrating metal beneath her matched the vibrating in her heart as her knees rested on either side of his thighs.

“You’re gonna need to hold on,” Scott called out.

Hold on. Right. Easy enough. She breathed out, breathed in, and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his midsection, pressing into his back. She thanked god for having the helmet on to cover the bright blush that pooled into her cheeks as she felt his stomach expand and contract with every breath.

Reaching down, Scott patted her crossed arms and then lowered his visor with a snap. “Here we go!” He said and, with a twist of the throttle, he hit the gas.

A little shriek escaped her throat as they gained speed in what felt like the space of a blink, feeling the pull of drag on her body. She held on tighter, the thought of how is this slow? raced through her mind as he pulled out of the school parking lot and took off down the street.

Beacon Hills by motorcycle may as well be a different world than Beacon Hills by car. Being out on the road, wind and scenery rushing by them, her heart thumping beneath the roar of the engine. It was…exhilarating, actually. Nothing around but the road and the lush green trees and the jewel toned sky and the boy with a soft heart. A grin split her face and she rested against his back, tense muscles relaxing.

It wasn’t until they finally came across a red light, the same one she, Lydia, and Allison stopped at the night of the deer accident, that reality came back to her. She tapped him on the shoulder and Scott’s helmeted head turned sideways. “I don’t live this way!” she called to him.

“I know,” he called back. “I’m taking the long way. You doin’ okay?”

Doing okay? She was…she was…hmm. She was with Scott, riding around the empty streets on the edge of Beacon Hills, not being peeled off the ground. And he was taking the long way. To make her more comfortable or just to spend extra time with her, either way, it was sweet, and she was going to recount every minute to Perrie for sure.

In short: she was awesome.

“So, uh…since we’re taking the long way…do you think we could make a pitstop?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Any place in particular?”

“Ruby’s?” Her stomach growled at the thought of going to the city’s teen hangout, a diner in downtown Beacon Hills that had the best shakes and burgers to offer. “My treat.”

He shook his head. “My mom wouldn’t let me take you home and eat with you without offering my share. My treat.”

“Fine.” Tessa’s hidden smile magnified her words. “Then I get the tip.”

“Deal.”

The light turned green and Scott surged forward. This time Tessa let out a little laugh, the noise being carried away by the wind as she held on a little tighter.

[sondepoch]

XV: Neutral Route (Y/N)

Where Futures Begin

Life used to be simple for you. Peaceful. But the Savior had other plans for you, and in moments, she ruined what you thought was your one shot at happiness. Blinded by anger, you escaped the Mint Eye, but that triggered a series of events that would bring you further into the world of brothers Saeran and Saeyoung. And further into the twisted world of your love for them.

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

MASTERLIST 

Luciel had been acting strangely pleasant for the last four hours.

He'd wandered around the cabin with a sick smirk planted on his face, announcing something about going scouting around the Mint Eye to see if they could visually find any entrances.

You'd initially brushed your worries away, but when you walked into the kitchen to see Luciel washing your dress, you couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Luciel...?" Your voice was timid.

"Yes, (Y/N)? Oh," He looked down at the fabric between his hands. "I figured, since we're going out and all, that you should wear your dress. But it was a little dirty, so I washed it!" The redhead flashed you a smile, and you felt yourself step backward.

"Why are you being so..." Creepy. "Friendly to me? I thought you were upset with me?" You bit your lip, unsure of the response you'd get.

"There's no point holding on to the past, wouldn't you agree?" Luciel said, staring at the magenta satin. "Hey, why don't you shower? It's been almost a day since you've come here, so I'm sure you're dying to get clean."

Luciel ushered you out of the kitchen, saying, "Your dress will be dry when you're done, so take your time."

As you stood under the water that poured over your head, though, you couldn't help but feel suspicious. In the time you'd known him, Luciel had gone from cold and blunt at the Mint Eye, to friendly and charming up until you made out with him. He'd been passionate as he kissed you, but had depicted more anger than you'd ever seen in a person when he came charging at you afterward. Then he had grown distant, ignoring you almost as Saeran had, but now he was being friendly again?

You shuddered.

No.

Luciel wasn't being friendly.

He had the same look in his eye that people at the Mint Eye got whenever the Savior promised them something. His golden irises looked darker, no longer shining proudly like a king's crown but glistening darkly, like the diadem of the king's evil brother who was plotting something horrible from the shadows.

You tried to wash the sick feeling in your stomach away, rubbing your body all over with extra soap, trying not to wince as the flavored shampoo came into contact with the cuts that littered your body from when you fell off the ladder.

It's only been sixteen hours since then, but it feels like it's been weeks.

You frowned, staring at your white hair as you lathered shampoo into it. The artificial color was a contrast to your skin, looking unnatural as it clung to your shoulders, wet.

You closed your eyes, pretending for a moment that you were in the Mint Eye. It wasn't hard. The strawberry-scented shampoo that Luciel had thrust into your hands was the exact same type the Savior had asked you to use. The smell brought you back to the Mint Eye, where, you realized, you truly were happy.

It was the night before your second commitment. The night before your life fell apart.

Saeran was dancing with you, pulling you with him as he slowly waltzed with you across the floor.

The two of you were silent, not needing words to communicate when you could let your actions speak for you. Your head rested comfortably into the crook of Saeran's shoulder, and Saeran's loose grip around your waist was all the two of you needed to know that everything was okay.

He took a step back and raised his arm, spinning your body around and then back into him where the two of you resumed what would be your final dance together.

It was a peaceful moment, forever frozen in your mind as the perfect image of happiness. Your bliss, and his, intertwined in such a way that they were one: a snapshot of what life had been for you in the Mint Eye before you had renounced the magenta.

You sighed.

Those days were gone. Long gone.

You took a step backward, turning off the water after double-checking that your whole body was clean. Drying yourself with a fluffy towel, you observed the satin fabric of your dress cautiously as if Luciel had hidden a knife in it, meant to stab you as soon as you put the clothing on.

Finding nothing, you pulled the material over your body, finding the way it fit familiar. Almost comforting. You stared at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a damp and tangled mess, but the rest of you looked as immaculate as you had been in the Mint Eye.

You turned your body and twisted your neck, staring at the tattoo Saeran had placed on your back. You'd never admired it before, but as you stared at it, you realized more and more how even the lines were and how objectively perfect it was.

From the angle you were standing at, you realized that you didn't look like yourself at all. It was as if a filter had been placed over you. Even your untouched skin was faded to a grayed down version of your previous skin color.

A knock broke you from your thoughts. "(Y/N)?" Luciel's sickly sweet voice called. "Are you done in there?"

You opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom while Luciel observed the dress. "Everything looks good...but what about your hair?" He pinched the damp strands. "Do you need a comb? I think Vanderwood has hair ties lying around somewhere here..."

You put a hand up, stopping Luciel. "I can't."

Luciel arched an eyebrow. "You can't what?"

"I can't...do my own hair. In the Mint Eye, it was always either Saeran or the Savior..." You turned away, painfully aware of the subtle question you were asking. Was it too much? Luciel seemed to be in a better mood, but you weren't sure what his triggers were.

The redhead sighed. "Fine, then." He pulled you into his room. "I'll do it for you."

***

The car ride was awkward.

Luciel had originally argued that the only ones who even needed to go scouting were him, V, and you, but Vanderwood was quick to say that he wouldn't let himself be caught dead alone in a cabin with MC. Of course, once it was decided that Vanderwood was going, MC had decided she didn't want to be left behind, so the five of you crammed yourselves into Vanderwood's old car, the four-wheeler bringing you all closer and closer to the Mint Eye.

You brought your thumb to your lips, chewing on your nail.

It was a bad habit you had developed when you were a child, only surfacing when you were nervous. Your nails had grown out nicely in your time in the Mint Eye, you never really needing to worry, but the stress of seeing the building grow close was difficult to cope with.

"Relax, (Y/N)," Luciel murmured, the sick smile present on his face once more. "Everything's going to be over, soon."

"What do you mean?" You regarded his words suspiciously. This was just a scouting trip, right? Why would anything be over?

Luciel didn't respond, the car silent before V instructed Vanderwood to pull over.

"Alright, everyone out," The brunette instructed, stepping out of the car.

Once you were out, you were surprised. "Are we going to split up?"

Luciel shook his head. "We'll wait here."

You didn't question it. Something didn't feel right, but then, when did anything related to the Mint Eye ever feel right? You ignored the pit in your stomach, instead opting to inspect your surroundings.

Vanderwood had pulled over beside a large stone platform, circular with strange carvings inscribed in rings around the center. You bent down and inspected the stone, noting that the carvings looked old, but not old enough to be crumbling.

The Savior must have had this built for the Mint Eye, you realized, recalling how every few months, the Savior would take a group of disciples and bring them outside for a series of rituals. The Savior had confessed to you that this was her favorite place, outside the Mint Eye. She had promised to bring you, once, but you had escaped before she took you.

You pulled your gaze from the stone, looking up to see V and Luciel discussing something in hushed voices by the car. MC had wandered off, and Vanderwood was the only one doing actual reconnaissance work, observing the Mint Eye through binoculars.

You saw him jerk up.

"Someone's coming!" He shouted, drawing the attention of Luciel. "Everyone in the car—dammit, where's MC?!"

You spun your head around frantically searching for her eye-catching blob of brown hair. If someone was this wandering around this close to the Mint Eye, there were very limited options on who it could be.

You sprinted to the car, hoping to get in, only for Luciel to stop you. "Wait," He commanded, his expression hard.

"The fuck are you doing, Luciel? We have a better chance of finding MC if we prepare ourselves and all get in the ca-" Vanderwood was all over the place, gesturing madly, and practically shouting whilst the redhead in front of him remained calm.

"Who did you see, Vanderwood?" Luciel asked, his words slow.

"That's what you care about?!" Vanderwood took a step toward Luciel, readying his hand to punch the younger agent.

You bit your lip, concerned for what would happen between the two when everyone halted, hearing a voice.

"He saw me."

You felt a quiver run down your spine, your bare back already chilly but now seeming to freeze as you felt a shiver of fear ripple through your very bones. The Savior, you realized, fearful. You stood rooted to the spot, and no one seemed to speak until the same voice called out once more, much closer now.

"Are the arrangements ready, V?"

You didn't move, but your eyes darted to V, where you stared at the man in horror. Arrangements? Had he known that the Savior would come here? Is that why he had Vanderwood stop?

"They are." Luciel said, answering the question for V. "You take (Y/N), we get Saeran."

Your eyes widened as you realized what had put Luciel in such a good mood this morning. It was an exchange. You realized bitterly, hating yourself for not seeing the truth sooner. I should have known.

"Of course, of course, but keep your voice down. I haven't told Saeran, yet. And by the look on (Y/N)'s face, it would seem you didn't inform her, either." The Savior said, her voice now directly behind you.

You pulled on the car door once more, hoping that it would open, or that you could pull the door out and use it to shield yourself from whatever horrors the Savior was going to force you through, but the only thing that happened was a firm grip finding itself on your arm.

You were afraid to look down, as if seeing the hand around your wrist would make it more real. Instinctively, though, you knew who it was. After so many years with him, how could you not know the feel of his hand?

"Saeran?" You asked, turning around to meet the eyes of the boy you had once loved so much.

He hardly responded, though, the mint green of his eyes dulled by his blank expression. He pulled you backward, and unlike the touch of anyone else, you found yourself unable to hold back as he led you to the Savior.

She stared at you, the smile you were used to seeing on her lips no longer present. Instead, she rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I'm trading Saeran for a weakling like you," She scowled. "But it's okay, (Y/N). This will make you strong. Strong like me. Do you know what it was that made me strong?" The Savior asked.

You didn't respond, not wanting to hear another word from her lips, but she answered the question herself.

"It wasn't enough that the man I loved told me he didn't want me anymore. It was only when he showed me that I realized the truth. And that, my sweetling," Rika cooed, pulling at a loose strand of hair from Luciel's hairstyle on you, "Is what will make you strong as well."

The Savior forced you to your knees.

You wondered, numbly, what she was going to do to you.

What more pain could she force you to endure that you hadn't handled already? You watched, distant, as she crossed her arms and spoke with Luciel and V. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Vanderwood shaking Luciel, shouting at the boy, but for some reason, their words were inaudible to your ears.

They were yelling, shouting, practically screaming at each other. But the sounds were nothing but distant noises on your ears, your entire body focused on Saeran, and where he went.

And why he came back holding MC's hand.

He stared at the girl with loving eyes, his expression not blank the way it was when he stared at you but instead filled with affection. Is this what the Savior wanted me to see? You wondered, unable to help the scowl that formed on your face as you watched the two with envy. Saeran and MC, together, happy?

You pried your eyes away from the pair, gazing back at the Savior. Or did she want me to think about how, after this exchange, Saeran and MC are going to make out on the same couch I kissed Luciel?

You tried to shut your mind off, hating the very thought. You focused on the Savior's words, as she forced MC to her knees next to you and handed something to Saeran.

Pulling yourself from your daze, you forced yourself to listen.

"Choose, Saeran." She murmured, while Luciel watched from the side.

You made eye-contact with Vanderwood, who, for the first time, was unable to hold your gaze, crossing his arms and looking away. Even V, whom you had learned to be a voice of reason and ration, couldn't bear to watch.

"You know what this injection does," You heard Rika's voice continue. "And you know what will happen to whomever you pick. So, who will it be, Saeran? (Y/N)? Or MC?"

You dropped your gaze to the large syringe in Saeran's hands, noting the color. The same color as the Elixir of Salvation, you realized with a start. It's going to be injected into the bloodstream? You felt your heart palpitate at the very thought.

The Savior smiled at you, her expression cold as you understood the decision she was forcing Saeran to make.

Whoever he chose would enter a world of pain. No, not a world, an ultra-concentrated high-density galaxy of truly unendurable agony. You felt your heart beat faster, your eyes darting back and forth between the Savior's cruel smirk, Vanderwood, who was being held back by V, and Saeran, who was walking forward.

You and MC sat kneeling next to each other, barely a foot apart. Despite that, you knew as soon as Saeran took a step forward that he was heading toward you, not her.

You heard MC begging for Saeran not to do it to her, that she loved him and that she wouldn't do it to him. You opened your mouth, wondering if begging would save you for at least a minute longer, but you couldn't bring yourself to utter a single word as Saeran looked at you.

For the first time, his expression wasn't blank. Or angry. Or bored.

As he stared at you, whispering, "I'm sorry," you saw the look in his eyes: pure sorrow and remorse; but no regret.

That expression was the last thing you saw before Saeran plunged the needle into your neck, a new level of pain entering your body through your neck, spreading all over with no way of escaping.

MASTERLIST

Neutral Route: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | ✔

Saeyoung’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | ✔

Saeran’s Route: 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | ✔

Word count: 2.7k

Notes: Blehh I just got back from the conference today and I didn't do too well. I won an award but I feel like I could have done so much better if I'd prepared more and made some different choices. On the flip side - I have a renewed sense of motivation to do even better so that'll definitely pull me through this! :)

Comment & Like

Next Update: 2/20/20

I do not own the rights to Mystic Messenger or any of the characters within it.

[neocityarchive]

TY: Today [12:48 AM]

Taeyong was the last one to step out of the car. He stormed into the dorm, dropping his bag carelessly on the floor before plopping himself on the couch with a loud sigh.

“Congratulations, Jae,” he said, his tone almost sarcastic, “Y/N would probably go out with you if you ask.”

“I-what?” Jaehyun frowned. “I wasn’t going to…” his voice drifted into Taeyong’s subconscious.

Jaehyun... with his perfect hair and charming personality. Jaehyun who is so talented about everything. Jaehyun who has everything, maybe soon, including Y/N. He has never been someone Taeyong was envious of. He is amazing and arguably perfect, but he knows and accepts their differences. So why does he feel like this now?

“What’s wrong?” Taeil, who also just came home from a different schedule, asked.

Taeyong didn’t answer. Everyone else remained silent, wary of the atmosphere in the room, except for Doyoung.

“You’ve been in a bad mood since you got back from your meeting with Y/N noona,” he said, looking at his hyung with a mixture of concern and slight annoyance.

“Did something happen?” Jaehyun asked.

Taeyong was just staring at blank space. “I honestly have no idea,” he muttered. “She walked out on me.”

“Why?” they all asked.

“I said, I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “We were fine one minute, and then she suddenly stormed out. She says she’s not gonna see me for another year and a half.”

“She won’t storm out for no reason,” Doyoung said. “What exactly happened?”

Taeyong glared at his dongsaeng who wasn’t even fazed one bit. Besides him, Doyoung is probably the one Y/N is closest to among the group. They started bonding over Billie Eilish and it spiraled from there. Sometimes, he just hates it.

He let out a breath. “Fine,” he mumbled to himself.

He told them about everything, from when she overheard things at the practice room. Meeting her in the lobby, going to the rooftop. He left out the part where he says Jae is not right for her and when he put her hands in his hoodie pocket. He told them about what she said as he remembered it, and about her saying she’d take a shot at Jaehyun before telling him ‘see you in a year and a half.’

When he finished, Doyoung, Yuta, and Johnny exchanged knowing looks.

“You two owe me 5,000 won,” Yuta told them with a smirk on his face.

“What’s this about?” Taeyong frowned, watching the exchange of cash happening in front of him.

“We bet between ourselves who among you and Y/N would confess first. Obviously, he won,” Johnny said, his face disappointed. He turned to me and spitefully said, “Honestly, I expected more from you, Taeyong.”

“What?” Taeyong frowned even more. “What do you mean confess?”

“She likes you, hyung,” Jaehyun said with a gentle smile. “And she’s right. Apparently, you are naive.”

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Idiot!” he exclaimed. “Didn’t you listen to what she said? Everything she likes in a guy is probably everything you are, you ignorant ass. What else could that mean?”

“She likes you,” Doyoung said, “and not just as a friend. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. She wasn’t exactly very subtle about it.”

“You knew?” Taeyong’s eyebrows furrowed at Doyoung.

“Of course,” he answered. “I’ve known for months. Why do you think we became close?”

“I just…” Taeyong sighed. “I don’t get it.”

“She likes you,” Taeil said. “I don’t even know what happened today, but I know she likes you.”

“Then why didn’t she just say so?” Taeyong kicked the coffee table in frustration. It was made of sturdy wood so it didn’t do much damage, but it did make him more irritated.

A chorus of groans went around the room.

“Idiot!” Yuta shouted, throwing a pillow forcefully at him. “God, I want to throw you out the window.”

“Do we still have to make you realize that you like her, too?” Jaehyun asked.

“I…” He let out a deep breath, both lost for words and completely lost.

Contrary to popular belief, Taeyong never had the chance to date anyone. He came to the company even before he found the confidence to go out and try to be someone’s boyfriend. He never imagined himself being with anyone. It was just know he realized that maybe it’s because he was always with someone…

Her. She’s always been there for him, from middle school, to his audition, to when he passed, to when he cried after his first evaluation, to their debut, to when the fame is starting to drain him, to their first win, to all his ups and downs as an individual. She was there.

Maybe he never realized what it was, but he always wondered about the warm feeling he gets when Y/N suddenly visits him in the practice room or in the waiting room of music shows. He always wondered why it feels so good to hear her voice on the phone when he’s tired or when he’s miles away from home. He always wondered why he always wanted to hold her close and why it hurts when she already has to go. He always thought it was probably because she reminded him of home so much. She was so familiar. But he didn’t realize until now that she felt like home… because she’s been his for so long.

“I have to talk to her,” Taeyong said, getting up from his seat, suddenly filled with passion. He was already about to leave, when they all stopped him.

“Where are you going?” Johnny asked, already blocking his way. “You can’t leave. It’s past midnight.”

“You guys were right. I was too stupid to realize how I feel. But now that I do,” Taeyong shook his head, “I can’t let her go.”

“Even if you do realize that, it’s too late,” Doyoung said, glaring at him. “She’s leaving for New York. We’re headed to Japan early in the morning and she won’t be here when we get back. There’s no way you’ll get out of this dorm.”

Taeyong felt helpless. He looked around his group of friends, suddenly thankful the younger ones aren’t here. It’s hard enough for the hyung line to see their leader emotionally crumble in front of them.

“I can’t just–“ he swallowed the lump in his throat, “I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Like I said, it’s too late,” Doyoung sighed. “Sorry, hyung. Maybe you’ll get the chance again... in a year and a half.”

Taeyong sank back to the couch, covering his face with his hands. His breath was shallow and so were his tears. He could feel the eyes of his members boring into him, but at this point, he couldn’t care less.

“I guess I had this coming,” he muttered.

“Hyung, just text her,” Jaehyun said. “She’ll probably still read your messages.”

Taeyong shook his head. “Just… leave me alone for now, guys,” he said.

With reluctant looks and hesitant steps, everyone left the living room and went to bed one by one, leaving Taeyong alone with his thoughts that carry knives, stabbing him again and again.

This is how it ends, he thought to himself, This is how I’ll lose my best friend and my soulmate in one night.

Today [2:01 AM]

Today [7:01AM]

“... and an iced Americano, please.” I smiled at the barista.

I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m not sure I even slept at all.

I was already worried about leaving. I couldn’t sleep because the anxiety of living in a country I’ve never been to, with people I don’t know was eating me alive. Then my phone started vibrating nonstop at my bedside table.

Taeyong called me four times last night, but I didn’t answer. I made the mistake of unlocking my phone, forgetting that it was going to open to my conversation thread with him so I accidentally marked it read. I stared at our convo for the longest time, typing and erasing. I did that for half an hour before realizing there was nothing more I wanted to tell him.

So when he called and texted, I just… laid there, and waited for it to stop.

I came to the airport today with a different feeling. Somehow, I felt fresh. Like I’m leaving a part of me that I don’t need anymore. I checked my luggage in and claimed my boarding pass. With more than half an hour of waiting time, I decided to get myself some coffee.

And now, I’m here.

I’ve decided that once I’ve stepped on that plane, I’ll forget about everything. About last night. About ever having feelings for my best friend. About being lonely.

I’ve decided to stop forcing myself where I’m not wanted. And I’m actually ashamed it took me so long, but I’ve finally decided to set myself free.

DY: Today [7:24 AM] 

Doyoung was tired. He hates early morning schedules. It sucks worse today because Haechan is uncharacteristically energetic in the morning, which means he’s making Doyoung’s life miserable. The maknae might not have gotten any sleep for the fear of his face bloating, so he’s just running on caffeine.

“Alright,” their manager said when they reached their gate. His mouth moved slightly as he silently counted the heads of the people from the group. “...six, seven,” he muttered silently before frowning. “Seven? Who’s missing?”

“Jungwoo and Sicheng went to the restroom,” Taeil said.

“That’s nine. Who’s the other one?”

Doyoung looked at the group, doing a mental checklist of the members, scanning their sleepy faces. “Taeyong hyung,” he mumbled, “he was here a while ago, wasn’t he?”

“Oh!” Yuta’s hands suddenly shot up. His eyes were a bit puffy from the lack of sleep and his voice was still a bit slurry. “He left like five minutes ago. He said he’s gonna come back. I told him to wait till we find our gate, but–” he yawned “–he said it’s important. I was too tired to stop him.”

Doyoung felt a tingle across his spine. He didn’t have a good feeling about this. Taeyong hyung hasn’t been doing well since last night. He knew from the moment he stood up to leave that he won’t let her get away that easily. Most of the time, his passion is admirable and good for the team, but this is clearly not one of those times.

Y/N leaves today. Doyoung couldn’t remember what time her flight was exactly, but he knew it was early in the morning, too. He had a weird feeling that this has something to do with her, which probably means this won’t end well.

“We have to find him,” he told everyone.

“He’s just probably getting coffee or something,” Johnny said, “which reminds me, I have to get some coffee.” He looked at the manager carefully, his expression hopeful.

“Fine, do what you want,” the manager said with an exhausted sigh. “Just find Taeyong and get back here as soon as you can.”

“I’ll come,” Doyoung said.

Yuta and Jaehyun decided to go as well. They haven’t even taken ten steps away from their gate when Jaehyun nodded towards something in the other direction. “Found him,” he said.

They all turned to look. Taeyong was there, alright. And he was with her. They were more or less a hundred feet away from them. The two of them didn’t look like they cared about the people passing by or the looks they’re being given or what was happening around them. They were engulfed in their own little world, and that… confused the hell out of everyone else.

“That’s not Taeyong,” Johnny muttered. “Taeyong would never do that. But it looks like Taeyong and that’s Y/N. Right??? Who is he and what has he done to our Taeyong?”

“They’re so close to each other. What is happening?” Jaehyun asked with the biggest frown on his face.

“That’s it,” Yuta said, suddenly not sleepy at all, “we broke Taeyong. Now he’s all… brave. What happened?”

“I think you called him an idiot too much last night,” Johnny said.

“You are the idiots,” Doyoung grumbled. “She happened. Finally.”

Today [7:13 AM]

I was halfway through my coffee, walking around the airport, just looking at the different shops, and not straying too far from my gate. There’s more or less 20 minutes before boarding time, but my feet are restless.

I stopped in front of a souvenir shop that sells fridge magnets and keyrings displaying the different attractions of South Korea. I was just thinking of buying one to bring to New York when I felt someone beside me.

“What did I say about leaving without saying goodbye?” he asked.

I turned to look. “Wha–what–how… what are you doing here?” I stammered, frowning at Taeyong who seemed unfazed as he continued to stare at the shop window.

I don’t know if it’s because of the coffee or his unexpected appearance, but my heart was pounding again. I looked around to see if anyone else was with him, but apparently he was alone.

He looked at me. His face was puffy, maybe from the lack of sleep. His eyelids drooped lower than usual. He looked tired. He sounded tired. “Are you seriously just going to disappear for that long without saying goodbye?”

I looked away, not wanting to meet his eye. “I told you last night I was gonna’ see you in a year and a half,” I mumbled.

“You didn’t even respond to any of my messages,” he said, “and you expect me to just be okay with it?”

I let out a hollow laugh. “After everything I said last night, I had nothing left to tell you,” I answered, forcing myself to look at him.

But he looked away.

“Here,” I said, handing him my coffee, “You look like you need some. It’s still so early.”

He just glared at it. “I don’t need your death drink. I need you to talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say to you, and I’m leaving in like fifteen minutes, so...”

I turned on my heels and started walking away. Taeyong followed immediately. His longer legs didn’t make it hard for him to catch up, and soon we were just walking side by side.

“What are you even doing here? How did you find me?” I grumbled. I threw my coffee to the nearest bin I could find, suddenly not in the mood to ingest anything.

“I wasn’t exactly looking for you. I didn’t know you were leaving today because you never told me, remember?” he said sarcastically. “We have a flight, too. I sneaked off as soon as I saw you.”

“You’re not allowed to do that,” I said blatantly. His friends and managers must be looking for him by now. “You know what, just go. I have to get back to my gate.”

“I have to talk to you,” he said.

I could tell that he was growing impatient. His tone was no longer sweet and soft like how it is when he talks about the things he loves. It's deeper, more serious, and a bit intimidating.

I didn't want him to get mad. But I know that if I stayed and talk, leaving would become ten thousand times harder than it already is. 

“You should’ve done that last night,” I said before walking away again.

This time, he didn’t follow. He just stood there, frozen, watching me. That’s what I thought at least. So I was so shocked when suddenly…

“Y/N!” Taeyong shouted, his voice dominating every other sound in the airport.

I stopped walking and so did a few others who were also startled by his scene. I closed my eyes partly in embarrassment, partly wishing I could die.

Some of the people passing by threw dirty looks at him while some just looked so confused. Somehow, I’m a bit of both.

I turned around slowly. "What do you want Taeyong?" I moaned.

He was already walking towards me. "Please stop walking away from me," he said.

"Then stop making me," I retorted.

He sighed. "Fine. If you won't let me talk, then just put this on." He handed me one of his airpods and put the other one on his ear.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," he said, dead serious, already scrolling through his phone.

Hesitantly, I put the airpod on. For a moment, there was nothing. I watched as Taeyong kept browsing his playlist and until he found what he was looking for.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to understand what you meant." His voice was suddenly soft again. How he switches so quickly, I have no idea. "But I hope you didn't give up on us just yet."

He tapped something before putting his phone on the back pocket of his jeans. Suddenly, Easier by Bruno Major started playing.

"Dance with me," he said, holding out his hand, "like we did at the practice room."

My cheeks felt hot, but my eyes nearly popped off of my head. "Dance with you?!" I asked. "Here? Are you serious?!?!"

Just because it won't come easily, doesn't mean you shouldn't try.

He took my hand even without a proper answer. "I like you," he said, gently pulling me towards him. "And I don't mean as a friend. I feel like I have to say it as it is because apparently we always tend to miscommunicate when it comes to this. So, yeah…"

"Taeyong," I breathed, my voice weak. "People are staring at us."

"Y/N," he said, glaring down at me. He had that funny expression that is a mixture of a frown and a smile. It sounds weird but God he looks good doing it. "I don't care."

"But--"

"Look, I was stupid," he said. "I was afraid of what I feel. I know this isn't how I'm supposed to feel about you. This isn't how friends are supposed to feel about each other. But you were right. We've gone past that point and I was too stupid to realize it. I like you."

My mind was racing but I couldn't process a single word of what he just said. I kept looking at the people around us.

A lot of them looked this way for at least 2 seconds before minding their own business again. I even overheard someone asking if there was a drama shoot going on. They didn't care for the most part, but still...

"Okay, but do we have to do this here?" I asked bluntly.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm trying to prove a point here, Y/N. Just trust me."

I couldn't help but laugh. "This is ridiculous," I said, pressing my face against his chest.

“But you love it," he replied. I could feel his whole torso vibrate as he spoke.

His arm was on my back while his other hand held onto mine tightly. We were slow dancing in the middle of the airport to a music only we could hear. If someone told me yesterday that I would do this today, I would never have believed them.

My whole body was shaking. My knees felt weak. But somehow, the way he's holding me right now makes me feel less vulnerable, safe.

"You have tried my patience lately, but I'm not about to let us fail," he sang along.

I took a small step back to look at him. "Are you sure though?"

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Do you really like me or are you just saying that because of my big pathetic confession last night?" I asked.

Taeyong chuckled lightly. "Didn't you listen to a word I just said?"

"I'm sorry. I'm so distracted," I muttered. "But like, are you sure?"

"You tell me," he said, his voice almost a whisper, “You have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you every time you're this close to me.”

"I guess that's a yes." I smiled before closing the distance between us, planting my lips unto his. His hand that was previously holding mine went to my jaw, slowly caressing my cheek as he pulled me even closer. My arm went around his neck. It was soft, tender, sweet. For someone without much practice, he's a pretty good kisser. Better than I ever imagined.

We pulled away, breathless.

"I like you, too," I breathed. "Just to be clear."

Taeyong laughed.

As if on cue, they began announcing the boarding of my flight.

"Is that…?" he asked when the announcement ended.

I nodded. The amount of joy I felt a few seconds ago immediately evaporated at the thought of leaving.

"I'll walk you to your gate?"

I just nodded again. My chest feels heavier now than it did when I first got here. Why is it worse? 

I began walking, Taeyong falling into step right beside me. He quietly slipped his hand into mine. We have held hands before, but somehow, this felt different. Better and worse at the same time.

"What does this make us?" I asked.

"Us," he answered without thinking. "We'll figure out the labels later."

I nodded.

In front of us, I saw four of his friends walking towards our way. For a moment, I waited for Taeyong to pull his hand away from mine, take a step back, and avoid eye contact like he always does when they appear. But he didn't. Instead he held onto my hands tighter.

My heart melted, and I swear I wanted to cry so bad, but I’ve had too much public display of emotion for a day.

"What did we miss?" Doyoung asked as soon as he was within hearing range, looking at our hands intertwined.

"Nothing," Taeyong muttered. "I saw you brats watching us from afar even a while ago."

"Pfft, us?" Johnny frowned. "No."

"We're not," Jaehyun said.

"So are you two…?" Yuta pointed at me then at Taeyong then at me again.

We just smiled.

"I have to go," I said. "They've announced for my flight twice already. I'm gonna miss you guys, honestly. I hope you take a break from prison once in a while."

"We'll miss you too," Doyoung said.

"Stop calling it prison," Yuta grumbled.

"Can you guys give us a moment?" Taeyong asked.

"Sure," they all answered, but no one moved a muscle.

"Alone." Taeyong glared at them. "I'll just meet you at the gate."

"Right." They all scrambled but stopped walking after a few meters away.

Taeyong turned to me.

"Go with them," I said. "I don't think I can watch you watch me leave. You'll just make me cry."

"I knew you were gonna say that." He sighed. "Take care of yourself while you're there, okay? And always call me."

"What are you, my mom?"

He pouted slightly.

"Of course, I will," I said. "Take care of yourself, too. I won't be around to visit you."

"What are you, my mom?" he mocked, imitating ny tone.

I hit him lightly in the chest. "I'll kill you if you get injured."

"I know." He chuckled. "I'll miss you. I'm allowed to say it now right?"

Before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around his neck once again, burying my face at the crook of his neck.

Taeyong grunted in surprise, but wrapped his arms around my waist immediately. It was almost too perfect.

"I'll miss you too," I mumbled against his shirt.

They started announcing for my name specifically.

"Now, I really have to leave," I said as I let go. I started walking away, but Taeyong held onto my hand. "No goodbyes."

"None," he agreed, finally letting me go.

"See you in a year and a half?"

He shook his head. "I'll make sure to see you in less."

- 끝 -

prev | next

[the-quiet-winds]

Cathedrals in My Heart (part 2)

old foes have new faces. @ichlugebulletsandcornnuts and i worked hard. 

like, reblog, y’all know what’s up.

[part one]

[Part 2: The Bullets Catch in her Teeth]

they all make their way downstairs, where jane is staring forlornly at the front door which katherine just slammed. 

"jane," parr says quietly, bringing her out of her reverie, "we have something to discuss with you." 

jane looks at them, the four of them, all gravely serious. she brushes the invisible dust off her pants and shakes her head lightly, clearing her mind. "what can I do for you ladies?"

“I'm sure you’ve noticed that there’s been some... disturbances lately,” parr says, voice as calm and soft as she could make it. “with people’s property being damaged, and well...” she glances sideways at boleyn, who pulls out her phone.

“you should watch this,” she says, uncharacteristically serious. the video is loaded on the screen as jane takes it, and she frowns, pressing play.

the video was clipped from its original state. the nearly hour long video was chopped to thirty seconds, the thirty seconds of katherine opening the door and tearing the bible to shreds. "this was from last night, when I went to sermon," says aragon. "we don't know why she's doing this," says parr once the video concludes. she can't bring herself to meet jane's teary eyes. "but it's all her."

jane doesn’t do anything for a few seconds, just stares down at the phone with tears in her eyes. “I don’t-“ she begins, before choking on her words and stopping. she looks up at the others, absolute devastation in her features. “that’s not- she doesn’t-“ she falls silent again and grips the phone tightly. “what did I do wrong?” she finally asks.

parr puts both hands on her shoulders. "you've done nothing wrong, jane," she says firmly. "katherine just...doesn't always know how to deal with her feelings," parr chooses her words carefully. 

“that's why we showed you," cleves pipes in. "if anyone can get to the bottom of this, it's you seymour." 

jane rakes her nails down her cheek and her hand rests on the side of her neck. "you heard her when she left," she says very quietly, "she doesn't want me"

“no, of course she does!” boleyn bursts in, then continues slightly quieter when she realises how loud she was. “she loves you, jane. she’s just, like... lashing out for some reason.”

jane doesn’t look convinced and she looks back over at the door hopelessly.

"it's up to you, seymour," cleves says without malice or jest or anything resembling her typical voice. 

"she'll talk to you, you know she will." boleyn looks down to the floor. "especially when she gets back and realizes there was no dance class at all."

“wait...” jane says slowly. “that was you?” boleyn nods slowly and jane sighs. “oh, she’s not going to be happy when she gets home.” she puts her face in her hands and closes her eyes for a moment. “i’ll talk to her, or i’ll try at least. she’s angry with me right now, and I don’t know why, but I can’t...” her voice breaks slightly. “I can’t lose her.”

"you won't lose her, jane," aragon says fiercely. "we'll barricade all the doors so she has no way out if we have to." 

boleyn smirks and chuckles under her breath. "never stopped her before." she looks at jane's shocked and pale face. "not the time?"

“really not the time, boleyn,” cleves says, patting her on the back. boleyn shrugged apologetically.

“what we mean,” parr says, shooting boleyn a Look, “is that we’ll do everything we can to help.”

jane gives them a weak smile. “thank you, girls.”

it isn't all that much later when the car appears back in the driveway and katherine enters the house, raving and ranting about how she was "scammed" and how "they thought I was crazy". but no one is listening, because everyone is gone. the kitchen and living room are all completely empty. a voice, a very quiet voice, speaks up from behind her. "hello, kat."

she freezes for a moment, then turns around slowly. “I guess you’ll wanna gloat about being right,” she huffs, throwing her bag down onto the floor.

katherine looks in her in the eye with a steely gaze. jane looks timid and afraid. “well? is there something you wanted to say jane?” she pointedly and purposefully uses the woman’s first name.

jane looks like she’s going to speak for a second, then stops. katherine holds her gaze for another few moments before breaking it. “whatever,” she says dismissively, turning away.

she’s taken one step away when jane’s voice, heartbroken and trembling, asks “why are you doing this, kat?”

katherine freezes. she's conflicted. part of her wants to crumble to the floor and cry about jealousy and trauma and let jane pull her into those reassuring arms and tell her that she will chase all the demons away...but she doesn't. some other part of her, a darker, crueler part, cultivated from years of betrayal and abuse, wins out today. she straightens her spine and turns back towards jane, holding a cold and unwavering gaze. "doing what, exactly?"

jane sighs, trying her best not to give into her tears. “I know what you’ve been doing. to everyone’s things, I mean. the others showed me proof. and now, with the shouting, and the arguing, it’s all-“ she stops herself. “it’s not you, kat.”

katherine folds her arms. “well, maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

something inside of katherine's mind is screaming at her to let loose and just talk to jane, but her mouth won't cooperate. seeing jane like this, so upset and confused, it's like a tiny victory to her. ‘revenge is best served in turn,’ a tiny voice whispers in her head. "maybe you don't know me as well as you thought. maybe you saw some broken little girl who needed a parental figure and you thought that was you. well guess what jane, I don't. I don't need you." somehow, her voice doesn't waver or crack or shake at all. she pretends not to notice the painful clench in her throat or the angry tears threatening to well behind her eyes.

jane manages a single “kat-“ before the tears and the sobs make it too hard to speak. it’s a double edged sword to katherine: the part of her that just wants to sob with her and cling to her like a lost child is heartbroken, but the angry vengeful part of her is pleased that someone finally gets to share her pain. she doesn’t know what she was planning to say next, but she doesn’t get a chance to say it anyway. parr bursts into the room and katherine rolls her eyes. of course the others were listening in, because they were always sticking their noses where they didn’t belong. parr goes straight to jane and sees just how distraught she is, before turning her head to look at katherine and for a moment katherine is taken aback. parr looks furious. the angriest she’s ever seen her, and it makes her take a small step back.

“go to your room,” she hisses. katherine opens her mouth but parr doesn’t give her the chance to speak. “or the park, or anywhere, I don’t care. just stay away from her. you’ve done enough.”

katherine wants to scream. she wants to yell and cry and just let every strange and unfamiliar emotion in her body burst out but she can't. she squares her shoulders and clenches the keys in her fists. "fine." she makes for the door and opens it, before turning around one final time and glaring into parr and jane's backs. "it seems that no one wants me here anyway." with that, she closes the door behind her and pulls the car away from the house.

jane tries to pull away, to run after her, but parr holds her firm. “she’s not being rational, jane,” she says gently. “there was no way she was going to listen to you in that state. all she was going to do was hurt you more.”

“but-“ jane started. “-but where’s she going? I need to get her, I can’t let my girl be all alone like that!”

“she’ll be back,” parr says firmly, hoping with all her might that she herself was right. “she just needs time to cool off.”

the other three hovered uncertainly in the doorway. they’d clearly heard what had happened, and if the look on aragon’s face was anything to go by, they could tell it was serious.

“that little brat,” aragon hisses, gripping the doorway hard. “she needs someone to knock some sense into her.” boleyn, however, was looking at jane.

“is she gonna be okay?” she asks parr. parr closes her eyes briefly.

“I don’t know,” she mouths behind jane’s back. “I hope so.”

katherine is angry as she drives. even as aragon's (and jane's) voice echoes in her head about never driving mad, she can't help it. she doesn't know where she's going or what she's doing until she pulls over and parks the car in a random lot. she sits behind the wheel for a long time. her phone is buzzing incessantly, messages from cleves and boleyn and aragon patching through with angry words (though boleyn's seem slightly softer, more telling her about jane's condition) and it pulls at her heart. she's royally screwed up and she knows it. she slams her fists against the wheel before getting out of the car.

she starts walking. she doesn’t really care where she’s going, she just needs to be moving. it’s a particularly chilly afternoon and she shivers. she didn’t bother to grab a coat before she left, and she shoves her hands into her jeans pockets as best she can, but for some reason whoever designed them decided that tiny pockets were in style, and it’s a tight enough fit to get her phone in there. she wants more than ever to run home to jane but she knows that it’s too soon, that she’ll just make things worse by going back now. tonight, maybe, but not now. all her mind can think of is the horrible things she said to jane, not just then, but the night before, when she got the phone call in the first place, and the morning before she left. god, she really messed up.

she keeps walking until she hits lake. it's glassy and cold and very, very still. katherine sits by the water and stares at her reflection. her hair is messy and her face is red, but it's nothing compared to the turmoil inside of her head. she wants to throw something, anything. she can't find a rock or stick and before she can think it through fully, she chucks her cellphone as hard as she can and watches it fall into the lake with a soft plop. then she curls her knees into her chest and sobs her eyes out, sitting alone by the lakeside.

the self-conscious part of her knows she must look pathetic right now but she’s too emotionally exhausted to care. she thought it would feel good to finally give everyone a taste of her pain, and it had for a few moments, but then it made everything so much worse. she doesn’t care if anyone can see her, doesn’t care about anything except how she treated jane. jane, who cared for her, and katherine just threw it back in her face.

"hey, are you alright?" a voice calls from behind her. she turns and sees a man, tall and thin with neatly trimmed brown hair. he held a fishing rod and wore faded jeans and flannel. "I saw you from down the lake." he extended a hand to help her up. "my name is thomas. what's yours?"

she looks up, attempting to wipe the tears away with the back of her hand. she sees the hand he offered her and doesn’t take it. “i- I don’t think I should tell you my name. you’re a stranger, after all.” katherine gets to her feet herself, immediately on edge. she can’t help herself; she knows he probably doesn’t mean any harm, but men named thomas aren’t at the top of her list for people to befriend. she glances about quickly. there’s nobody else around, which worries her even more.

thomas casts the fishing rod aside, holding his hands out. "are you alright, lady?" he takes off his gloves and throws them on the ground. he takes a cautious step forward. "you can trust me."

katherine steps back immediately without even thinking. “please-“ she starts. “just- just don’t come any closer, please.” her blood pounds in her head and her breathing quickens, as she internally curses herself for throwing away her phone, how could she be so stupid?

thomas is still confused and holds his hands up in a surrender position. "do you live around here?" he asked well-meaningly. "do you want me to call someone for you?"

katherine can barely hear him, breathing so fast she’s almost hyperventilating. “leave me alone!” she chokes out. she tries to back away from him, tripping over in her haste and falling backwards.

“miss-“ thomas says, concerned, and reaches out towards her, but katherine sobs and scrambles back. her nails are digging into the dirt and her clothes are filthy but she doesn’t care about that, doesn’t care about anything except getting away. thomas isn’t just thomas right now, he’s both henrys and francis and another thomas, all looming in front of her, reaching out to her.

thomas is fed up with how this woman is reacting to his obvious attempts to help. he knows that he should back off and let her be, but some self-righteous part of him won't let him do that. he reaches down and hauls her back to her feet, keeping his hands on her shoulders to steady her. "lady, do I need to call someone?"

“get away from me!” katherine sobs, and with the full strength of her slim frame she shoves him hard. he stumbles slightly but recovers quickly enough to look at her incredulously.

“what is your problem?! I'm trying to help you!” thomas grabs her shoulders again and katherine struggles, trying to get away.

thomas holds her shoulders tightly, trying to get her to stop moving. she hopelessly and pitifully whacks at his chest, doing whatever she can to get him to let go of her. “lady, you’re obviously crazy and need help. just tell me who you are!” he says the last sentence slowly yet forcefully, sharply enunciating each word in hopes that they get through to the sobbing and thrashing woman

“what’s going on?” a voice cuts through, a female voice, and thomas turns to look. katherine stills her struggling and turns to see a concerned looking woman with her young child on her hip. thomas lets out a sigh of relief. “i’ve been trying to help this girl and she just keeps freaking out on me! she won’t tell me anything.”

the woman looks at thomas, gripping katherine’s shoulders, then to katherine herself, sobbing and covered in mud. she steps closer. “son,” she says slowly, “i’d recommend you take your hands off the girl this second or I will rip off your arm and beat you with it.” thomas roughly lets go, gathers his stuff, and moves on. katherine, meanwhile, dissolves into fresh sobs because she can remember jane saying that exact thing once before.

the woman approaches her slowly, eyes soft. “did he hurt you, sweetheart?” she says gently. katherine shakes her head once, tears still streaming down her face. the woman nods. “that’s good, sweetheart. thank you for telling me. now, do you want me to call someone for you to come and get you? any friends or family? you can talk to them yourself on my phone, is that okay?”

in a tiny voice that feels like it belongs to someone else, what’s ripped from katherine’s throat is a small whimper of “I want my mum”

the woman smiles softly and sets the child down as she reaches for her pocket. "let's call her, yeah? she can come get you." katherine shakes her head profusely. "I have our car," she mumbles out. the woman carefully puts a hand on the younger girl's back. "lets call her anyway. what's her number?" katherine lists it off automatically, and the woman starts the call. "hello? is this miss jane seymour?"

jane had exhausted herself crying over the past hour, and would have fallen asleep if it weren’t for the worry that katherine wasn’t home yet. the other queens had retreated to another room and were no doubt talking about what happened.

jane’s phone rings and she glances hopefully at the number. when it says an unknown number she sighs in disappointment, but she answers it anyway. when she hears her own name she frowns slightly. “yes, I'm jane. who’s calling?”

the woman sighs in relief at hearing a kind and concerned voice pick up the line. "my name is mary, and I am here with your daughter," she realizes she doesn't even know the girl's name. "katherine. I am here with katherine. we are at the lake."

“katherine?” jane asks, immediately rising from her chair although she’s not entirely sure why. “is she okay?”

“she’s... shaken up,” mary says, glancing at katherine. “she’s not hurt, but she’s rather upset.” she lowers her voice and turns away from katherine slightly. “there was a man holding her when I found her. he hadn’t done anything as far as I could tell, but he’s given her a scare for sure.”

jane's heart stops, only for a second, before she's able to speak again. "can...can I speak to her?" there's some shuffling on the other side of the line and suddenly she hears it. her girl's voice, barely above a whisper "mum."

katherine’s voice is wobbly and unsteady. “mum...can I come home? do...” she remembered that mary was there and amended what she wanted to say. “does everyone else still want me gone?”

“oh, sweetheart,” jane says, voice trembling. “of course you can come home. nobody wants you gone, I promise you.”

“but parr-“ katherine starts, but jane interrupts gently.

“-was worried about me. she doesn’t want you gone either. we’ve all been worried sick about you, sweetheart.”

katherine stifles her sobs as best as possible. “i’ll be home soon. I have to go.” the call ends and katherine folds back into herself to cry

mary looks at her kindly. “do you need any help getting home? I could drive you if you wanted me to.”

“I can do it,” katherine sniffles, “I just... need a moment.”

“then i’ll stay with you until you’re ready to go,” mary says firmly, and katherine again is reminded of jane in the way she speaks

katherine never though she would miss jane as much as she did in that exact moment. she wanted absolutely nothing more than to be in her warm and comforting embrace as she held her and told her everything would be alright. all she had to do was get home and that would be waiting for her. six miles away. only six miles between her and the thing she wants most. with that thought in mind, she puts her emotions aside and stands on shaky legs. “thank you, but I need to go home now.”

Mary doesn’t stop her, but she looks concerned. “are you sure you’re okay to go now? you still seem in shock.”

“i’ll be okay,” katherine insists. “I- thank you.” all she wants is to stumble back to the car and finally get back to her mum, to feel safe and warm in her arms again.

[michaelmyersmalewife]

LEVIATHAN | 11. Apotheosis | MASTERLIST

words: 6k+

A/N: you can probably guess why this chapter hurt my feelings

you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3

After what felt like forever, lights flickered back on and air began to blow through the sub's vents again.

Jodie's heart was hammering, and she was pretty sure she had hit her side against something, the space just below her ribs throbbing with pain. Gill was standing up from previously being in a crumpled pile on the floor. Serizawa helped Graham up to her feet.

"Damage report." the commander said as everyone got back on their feet.

"Fire in the torpedo room is out." one of the men said. "Atmosphere is stable. We're pretty banged up but we'll make it."

"Make it where?" Mark asked.

"Can't fix our position," one of the control techs said. "But inertial says we're six hundred miles from departure."

Running the numbers in her head, Jodie's brows scrunched together in confusion. No way this sub could make six hundred miles in little over an hour. And the lights had only been out for about 30 minutes since the vortex. Despite everyone else's confusion, Stanton was beaming.

"That's impossible, unless.." Graham thought out loud, grasping her chin.

"I knew it, man!" Stanton exclaimed. "That vortex was a tunnel into the hollow earth!"

Everyone shot him a pointed look. He waved them off.

"Y'know, subterranean tunnel system that connects the entire planet - doesn't matter, I knew I was right - I told you, Chen!" he rambled.

"Shut up, Rick." she said, putting a hand to her throbbing temple.

The Hollow Earth was an old theory, up there with the likes of the Flat Earth theory and whatnot. It had been entertained by scientists back in the 1600s thanks to a one Edmund Halley, but in a few centuries it faded to nothing but science fiction. That is, until Dr. Houston Brooks proposed an updated version of the theory back in the 70s. He had tried to test his theory on the Monarch expedition to Skull Island, but at this point everyone knew how that went. While he had managed to gather evidence of cave systems deeper than usual, it just wasn't enough to prove the larger theory.

Until now, if Stanton was right.

Had Mothra known about the vortex? Was it encoded in the minds of all titans? That debate would have to wait, however, as they still had a mission to get on with.

"One-second emergency blow forward." the commander said.

The sub lurched ahead, dipping down into a crevasse.

"Doctor?"

"Launch probes." Serizawa said.

Ahead of them, a trio of probes flitted through the water, their floodlights illuminating the pitch black abyss around them. In the control room, the feeds from the drones appeared. As the sub followed their lead, they approached strange, twisting shapes that were still too vague to make out through the murk. But even then, it was obvious they weren't natural.

"Lights on, cameras good, range one thousand yards." Stanton said as he pushed the drones farther along.

As the sub and its guides continued through the darkness, Jodie could see the occasional flicker of life dart away from the lights. But one shape loomed, the shape of a woman's face - pale and ghostly - suddenly appearing on the feed. Jodie flinched.

"Jesus," Stanton said in mild shock.

As the probe pulled back, widening the frame, they found it wasn't some waterlogged corpse or a mermaid. It was the figurehead of what looked like a centuries old galleon. And it wasn't alone.

Dozens of wrecks were visible in the searchlights, many piled on top of each other. What looked like an authentic Viking ship raised its dragon-shaped figurehead from the remains of galleys, cogs, and frigates. The rusted cylinder of a submarine, covered in barnacles, lay near the broken remnants of a warship that had probably last seen the surface during the first world war. And they had all been drawn here by the vortex, thrown into the mouth of the abyss. And they could very well be next, just another addition to this graveyard.

But as they pushed forward, Jodie found that analogy had taken an all too literal turn.

Among the wrecks were immense bones - ribs, arms, legs, skulls, bony plates with spikes and spines and anything in between. And beyond that was something else.

"Pan right." Serizawa said.

There was a light in the abyss, but not the artificial blueish green light from the sub and its probes, it was almost a soft orange glow that emitted a reddish fog. It wasn't coming from the surface, but boiling up from a trench. It was lava, pouring out of fissures in the earth and creating a sort of underwater stream, flowing across the seafloor through giant structures that were definitely not natural. Gill leaned closer to the feed, eyes shining with fascination.

Through the muck were dozens of crumbling statues the size of skyscrapers, and alongside them were temples and other smaller buildings - the ruins of a cyclopean city. Breathtaking colonnades reminded Jodie of Roman architecture, but in some places the structure seemed more Egyptian. And in others they were more ornate, like Southeast Asian temples. And illuminating it all was the stream of lava.

"Amazing.." Gill said with a grin on her face.

Passing countless monuments, Jodie could barely make out what might be hieroglyphics, bas-reliefs, and murals of strange creatures and much smaller humans.

"Looks Egyptian, Roman maybe?" Jodie said, coming up from behind Gill to observe the feeds.

Chen shook her head. "No, this is something else, this is much older." She looked closer through the dim lighting. "Can't say what exactly, but it almost looks Mesopotamian at least."

Much larger murals came into view, and now Jodie could recognize what she was talking about. The strange creatures on the earlier hieroglyphics were much clearer now, and they all depicted the same four figures - Godzilla, Mothra, Rodan and Kong. And beneath them, smaller figures were arranged in various forms of respect, service, or worship.

"You were right." Gill breathed, looking over at Chen. "The legends, the stories..all of it. They're all true." She began taking stills of the ancient carvings.

"They really were the first gods." Graham whispered.

This changes everything, she thought. Emma, Chen, Serizawa, they had all been right. Although Emma had royally screwed up and gotten unknowable amounts of people killed needlessly, the link between humans and titans was inescapable.

What caught her attention the most was that there was nothing in the human figures' poses that suggested fear or intimidation. Piety, maybe. But also cooperation. This was the coexistence they had always spoken of. This was the connection.

"After all this time," Gill said, looking at a particularly large mural, depicting Godzilla - in all his glory - defending a city from what looked like MUTOs. "He never forgot."

"But we did." Serizawa responded.

As they passed through the sunken city, the ruins began to tell another story. It was slowly becoming clear that the city hadn't been peacefully abandoned. Nearly everything around them had been scarred, scorched, or blasted to pieces. The sea bottom itself bore the scars of some ancient cataclysm that had undoubtedly sent the city asunder. The last mural was of a familiar three-headed dragon, the wall cracked beyond repair. Seeing Ghidorah depicted on something so ancient sent a chill down Jodie's spine.

And with the wreckage, the murals of man and monster ended - but not because the artists had finished their story, but because their work had been wrecked beyond recognition. Whatever harmony had once existed in this place had been drowned in a single day of misfortune much like the mythical Atlantis. Had this even existed above, Jodie thought. Or was this all one big cave, once filled with air? Either way, who - or what - brought about its downfall was beyond her understanding. It very well could have been a war between titans fought with the aid of humans. If so, given the amount of giant bones, the end result didn't seem to have gone very well for either side.

Except, perhaps, Godzilla's.

"If the stones could only speak, the stories they could tell us." Stanton mused.

"Amen to that." Gill said, continuing to take photos.

"Dr. Stanton, any sign of Gojira?" Serizawa asked.

"Yeah, the probes are picking up a radioactive blob just past past that ridge." he said, pointing to the thermal screen.

"Set a course."

_____

Elena and the others pushed through the woods as fast as they could.

She kept imagining the Controller behind her, gun in hand, that same shock the Regulator had shot her with that first day surging through her whole body. Or maybe this time she wouldn't be stunned. Would she even feel it? Would everything just stop? She was determined not to find out, and she was determined even more so not to let Madison find out either.

After nearly an hour, they finally came across a winding two-lane road with hundreds of cars packed bumper to bumper. Through the windows, she could see people staring at them as they walked in the opposite direction, puzzled but not making any attempt to stop them. She couldn't blame them.

It wasn't long before the road passed into a suburban area where they could no longer see the skyline. The Regulator slowed.

"I suppose I should let you take the reins."

Madison nodded.

She knew Boston like the back of her hand, but it was more than a little eerie seeing all the empty houses. Every now and then they would see a family still packing up. At one point some people in an SUV stopped and offered them a ride, but once they learned they were going into the city, they shook their heads and moved on.

Then the road joined a bigger one, all bodegas, malls, office complexes, and finally an interstate that was just as bad - if not worse - than the road outside the city. It was practically at a standstill, and the drivers were definitely not happy about it. Elena could feel a headache coming on from the constant stream of honking and screaming, but what bothered her most were the people too frustrated to wait, weaving through cars and abandoning theirs altogether. It was like swimming upstream, and the ORCA was heavy. She could only imagine how much the backpack must weigh for Madison. She was already more than tired, and they still had a long way to go until they reached the ballpark.

Every now and then they would take turns carrying the loads, stopping to rest or eat or drink. But never for more than a few minutes.

At least Elena felt a little safer now that they entered the downtown area. The evacuation had already kicked into high gear, sirens wailing near and far. Jets tore through the skies, helicopters and Ospreys filled with military and civilians alike taking off in the distance. The odds of the Controller and his men finding them were significantly lower now, and she could only hope that Emma had kept her word.

By the time they got within sight of Fenway, the crowd had turned, no longer flowing out of the city but within the park. It was one of the evacuation hubs, complete with aircraft lifting hoards of people lifted off every other ten minutes or so. It seemed to be going well. A little too well, perhaps, but a small part of Elena thought maybe there was a chance they could survive.

No. They would. She would see to that. And with the ORCA in their hands, those chances were looking just a little higher.

But with all of the people pouring into Fenway, it was going to be a little trickier than they anticipated. Finding no other way in, they merged into one of the lines where people were being herded into the stadium by cops and soldiers like a bunch of sheep. Every few minutes the loudspeakers above reminded them all to remain calm, that the ships would be departing every fifteen minutes or so. A few places ahead of the line, a little girl was clinging her to her father. She looked terrified, tears streaming down her face as she saw the bustling stadium around her. Madison made a funny face, and the girl cheered a little and turned away. A small, hardly noticeable smile appeared on Elena's face.

Just a moment later, Elena saw their chance. No one official was looking, and the line had gotten as far into the stadium as they could go without reaching the helicopter waiting ahead. The trio sprinted across the field until they reached a door that lead to the broadcasting booth at the top of the stadium. But after jiggling it, she found it locked. She slammed a fist against the door.

"Damn it," she cursed.

Wordlessly, the Regulator nudged her back. Lifting her leg farther than she thought a human could reach, she kicked down like a hammer. Almost as soon as her heel connected with the lock, the door splintered from the impact, swinging open.

"After you."

Madison raised her eyebrows, trying to hide an impressed grin. As they slipped inside, there were stairs that lead to the booth. They had reached the easy part. Despite the massive crowds outside, in there, it was deserted. Madison looked down at her hand as it slid up the railing.

She wondered what her dad was doing, if he was still okay. She remembered coming here a few times with him, just the two of them. Neither her mom or Andrew were big baseball fans. And she had never cared that much about it herself, but she liked the atmosphere, sharing it with someone she cared about.

Please be okay, she thought.

He will be fine, young Speaker, the warm voice echoed. Just worry about yourself

That was going to be hard to do. There was so much to worry about that she could barely begin to comprehend it. And above it all, she hoped her mom was okay too, that the Controller didn't take out their escape on her. She knew there was a good chance he might. She shook her head, not wanting to think about it.

It took them a little longer to find the booth than she would've liked, but eventually they came to the door. This time, it was unlocked. Inside was a large table surrounded by dozens of tv screens and other broadcasting equipment. From there, they had a bird's eye view of the evacuation through the giant glass windows ahead of them. For a moment, she hung there, watching the events unfold. Behind her, Elena and the Regulator placed the ORCA on one of the tables, and they got to work.

Opening up the ORCA, they began hooking up cables to the stadium's speaker system, turning up the volume as high as it could go.

Looking away from the window, she found that whoever was here had left a screen on. Madison listened as the anchor droned on.

"Massive storms and other disasters triggered by the titans have forced millions to flee major cities. And with D.C. hit hard by a category six hurricane that has left the capitol completely flooded, this is the single greatest disaster in human history."

The news footage showed pure pandemonium. Dozens of tornadoes and waterspouts churned through the air and sea, sucking in everything they touched up into a sickly yellow sky. Madison could make out buildings in the distance, but it soon became obvious that only the tops of those buildings were visible, while others were completely submerged altogether. The summit of the Washington monument and the dome of the capitol building looked like they had been dropped in the middle of a lake. And all the while, lightning struck all around the area in thin golden bolts.

"It looks like the sky's alive.." Madison thought out loud.

Looking up at the screen, Elena shivered. "That's because it is."

Another chain of lightning flashed in the bruised clouds, and for an instant she swore she could see Ghidorah's demonic shadow.

"The grim search continues as people around the world sift through the debris of leveled homes in the hope of finding missing loved ones. And though this sight is heartbreaking, it is in no way unique. Cities around the globe have fallen under the wake of what many are calling 'The Rise of the Titans'."

The Regulator cleared her throat as the ORCA beeped to life, its screens flipping open.

"Should be ready for broadcasting. You know how to work it, yes?"

Madison nodded. She scrolled through a handful of signatures until she finally found one that looked familiar. Pulling up the bioacoustic waveform on the ORCA's main screen, the words 'Alpha Frequency Found' appeared beneath it.

Without hesitation, she hit the button.

Turning to Elena, the Regulator hooked up the headset to the ORCA, handing it to her in the same motion. She took it in her hands, turning it over with a contemplative look on her face before steeling herself and placing it on her head.

"Are you sure about this?" the Regulator asked.

Slowly, Elena nodded, closing her eyes as she entered the headspace.

_____

The sub continued to drift through the ghostly city at a steady pace. They were headed toward something large, far larger than any of the other buildings. At first Jodie thought it was a dead end, but as they drew nearer, she saw that it was a massive sculpture carved into a natural stone face. It was a doorway of sorts, but not on a human scale. A titanic one. Carved on either side of the structure's base were two huge three-clawed feet.

Through the chthonic doorway, lava cascaded along a tunnel that rose in a series of large steps, eventually forming a larger fall that poured into the river beneath them. At the far end of the tunnel, a faint but familiar blue glow lined the entrance into..somewhere.

"I think we should stop." Stanton said.

"Why?" Serizawa asked.

"Because I still wanna have kids one day." he said, tapping the top right corner of his screen. The geiger counter built into the drones flashed a dangerous red warning. "Preferably without flippers."

"Full stop. Hover the ship." the commander said.

The drones continued on without them, disappearing down into the tunnel as they all continued to watch their feed.

"Things are getting steamy." Stanton said. "Probes aren't gonna last long, but I'm picking up the big guy's radioactive signature up ahead. It's weak, but it's there."

He had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when the feed from one of the probes ceased, quickly followed by another. The third pushed forward, and a moment later it finally entered the vast cavern.

"Okay, we got O2, CO2, and methane - looks like some sort of air pocket in there." Stanton said.

As the probe rose to the surface of the cavity, the red-orange glow became more intense. Illuminated by the falling lava, a vast temple complex was laid out before them. And although the video feed was already beginning to lose resolution from the radiation, they could see him clear as day. Godzilla, splayed out on the temple floor like a fallen deity in the heart of his own temple, lava breaching up from beneath him like ichor.

"Oh my god -" Mark breathed.

"- zilla." Stanton finished.

And with that the video cut out into nothing but static. "Aaand goodnight, Grace." Stanton let go of the probe's controls, leaning back into his chair.

"Pull up the last frame." Serizawa said.

He zoomed into the volcanic vents surrounding Godzilla. It stung Jodie's heart to see the still of the titanic lizard in such a state, a powerful being so beaten like that. Helpless.

"There," he said, pointing to the glow behind his scutes. "It's the source of the radiation."

"He's feeding. Regenerating." Graham mused.

"This is his home." Serizawa said.

The two shared a look of satisfaction. Serizawa turned away, taking his notebook out of his pocket and flipping through the pages while Graham continued to stare at the frame.

"That must be how he's been able to survive so long." Mark said. "Always adapting, evolving, it's incredible."

"Welp," Stanton said. "He doesn't really need our help, dude's got it covered, right? He just needs a nap."

"No," Chen interjected. "After San Francisco he was gone for nearly five years. After the Oxygen Destroyer, this process could take decades."

"We have to proceed as planned." Serizawa said firmly.

"Hang on," Stanton objected. "We're gonna launch a nuclear torpedo in order to revive a giant monster. That's not exactly like jump-starting a car."

"We have one more complication," the commander said. "Our weapons systems were damaged during the crash. We can't launch."

Jodie's heart sank. "Shouldn't you have mentioned this a little earlier?" she said.

The commander was at a loss for words.

"Can it be repaired?" Mark asked.

"I'm afraid not." he replied.

They had come all this way, followed Mothra, journeyed into the hollow earth and found Godzilla - all for nothing. But Graham wasn't discouraged.

"Could we attach one of the warheads to a probe? Set a timer so that it gives us enough time to clear the area before it detonates?" Graham said.

Stanton shook his head. "They wouldn't handle the weight. Besides, they'll barely make it past the cave entrance before the radiation eats it."

"Okay," Chen said, pacing. "So what if we go inside, set a timer, and detonate one of the warheads manually?"

"No way," Stanton said. "If the heat doesn't fry you the radiation will. It might be good for titans but walking in there would be like walking into Chernobyl."

The sub was silent. There were no other options, none that ended in either the death of Godzilla or the deaths of themselves. Jodie bit at a nail.

"I'll go." Serizawa said, breaking the silence.

Jodie almost thought she'd heard wrong.

"What the hell does that mean?" Mark asked incredulously.

"No, I'll go - Serizawa, you're too im -" Gill started before being quickly interrupted.

"What? No, what are you -?!" Jodie was silenced as Serizawa raised a hand.

He didn't speak, but his face said it all. He had skipped to the obvious conclusion: a life for a life. And he would be the one to take that leap. Once he made up his mind, there was almost no convincing him.

"There must be another way." Graham insisted.

"There's no time for a debate," he said. "I'll go."

_____

It's cute -

             - That you think whatever trick you pulled can stop us.

                                                                                 We'd applaud your efforts, -

- But we're busy

Elena's jaw tightened, trying to push through the voices in her mind.

Don't feel so down, Speaker.

                    When we're finished, we'll leave you alive last

                                                   So that you may see our wonders in full swing.

It's going to be beautiful.

"He still talking to you?" Madison asked, startling her out of her daze.

She nodded. "He doesn't know about the ORCA. Yet. But even then he's suspicious...he thinks whatever we're doing won't work." she bristled, rubbing her arms of the sudden chill. "Let's hope we can prove him wrong."

"Look." the Regulator said after a beat, pointing to the screen.

For the past ten or so minutes they had been anxiously watching the new stream in from around the world for any sign of change. Now, it seemed, that the tables were finally turning. Madison smiled.

"It does appear as if the attacks have ceased for the time being, with the creatures going from destructive to docile within minutes. Now, no one is sure how or why but this seems to be happening simultaneously around the world."

The titans in the news footage didn't seem docile so much as they did completely dazed, if not confused. Like they had just been dropped in the middle of a city with no prior knowledge of waking up to begin with. The two conflicting alpha frequencies were scrambling their massive brains, and unable to decide who to follow, they couldn't act out at all.

Take that, you bastard, she thought with a satisfied grin.

Somewhere at the front of her mind, Ghidorah laughed. Elena would've rolled her eyes if only his signature cackle wasn't so unsettling.

This is only a minor setback.

                      They are dull, weak. This was to be expected.

                                                                               But we will manage.

You just keep thinking that, asshole, she responded.

It's funny, really.

                Seeing you try so hard.

                                            It's amusing.

But also sad.

             You can't stop a storm, -

                                                  - how could you stop us?

Nearly growling from frustration, Elena's eyes screwed shut. Why? What could you possibly gain from all this? A dead kingdom with no subjects?

There was a long, weighty pause after that. It frightened her, but she would rather die than admit that to him.

If you're so confident, Speaker, -

                                                  - Then maybe we should pay you a visit.

                                                                                            It's only polite.

Shit, Elena buried a sneer, throwing the headset onto the table in frustration.

Those self-absorbed bastards couldn't be reasoned with, that much she was sure of. But even with the titans incapacitated, it still didn't seem to sway them. She knew it was all far from over, but if the ORCA confused the titans long enough, Monarch would have a chance to do their thing. That is, if they even had a plan to begin with. Madison seemed faithful in their endeavors, and that faith was becoming increasingly infectious.

Meanwhile, on the field below, the crowd had thinned out to almost nothing. Another handful of airlifts and the evacuation would be complete. If anyone noticed the odd pulses coming from the stadium speakers, no one had come to check it out. But they weren't going anywhere. They couldn't keep the ORCA out of their sight, not now.

And even if they could leave, they didn't have anywhere to go.

_____

Captain Ford Brody helped Serizawa into the dive suit.

He had already prepped the bomb beforehand, laughing dismally at the irony of the situation. But now, as he helped prepare the doctor for what was assuredly a suicide mission, there was no sign of humor in him.

It was all happening too fast, Jodie felt like she was slipping down a slope that was now nearly vertical. There had to be some another way, it was just no one could think of anything during such a time crunch. That had to be it.

"We've removed the warhead's lead shielding and inserted a mechanical timer, so it can function in the radiation." Brody explained.

"On first contact you'll start losing your long-range vision." he said, quietly. "After you surface your motor skills will start to fade, but I added a heliox mixture to your tank. It should help keep you stable longer."

Serizawa nodded with an unreadable expression as he took in the specifics of his impending demise. The captain was trying to be precise, clinical. Jodie could see the sadness in his eyes just below the surface of professionalism.

"Once you get inside, you'll have about six minutes," he said. "Before the radiation -" he stopped himself, taking in an unsteady breath.

Jodie could feel her eyes well up with tears. Nearly losing Godzilla was one thing, but losing Serizawa? It was too much. Everyone could feel it. He was part of the very foundations of Monarch, and most of their lives. He was their heart.

Brody sent him off with a quick hug.

"It was an honor, man." Stanton said, reaching out and shaking Serizawa's hand.

Chen grabbed Serizawa in a hug, gripping him like she didn't want to let go. But she did, her arms pulling back slowly. Gill and Jodie both went in for a hug, and as they pulled away with soft pats on their backs, she could hear Gill sniffle just a bit. Mark shook his hand.

"Thank you," Serizawa said. "All of you."

He walked over to Graham, who was standing near the back of the crowd. She was trying not to let it all spill out, Jodie could tell. But as Serizawa pulled his notebook from his pocket, handing it to her, she sucked in a sharp sob.

"I couldn't." she said.

A wistful smile appeared along his face. Insisting, she grasped his notes with trembling hands.

"He fought for us. Almost died for us. He's not only proof that coexistence is possible, he is the key to it." his smile started to fade, but his eyes still held that solemn determination. "Take care of them, Vivienne."

She was fully sobbing as she hugged him, wrapping her arms around him like he was the last person on earth. He reciprocated the embrace, closing his eyes.

"Sensei, aishiteimasu." she whispered.

With that, he turned the airlock, climbing into the small sub. Giving a nod, the doors sealed and the water began to rise. Jodie and the others could do nothing but watch as he entered the fiery tunnel.

_____

Serizawa tried to control his breathing as he entered the tunnel, trying to steady the heart that wanted to jump out of his chest.

It was getting hot. The bottom of the sea had been cold, even through the walls of the sub he came from, but the river of lava flowing down from above was warming the tunnel and sub he was in now. If it got any hotter, he might not even survive long enough for the radiation to kill him.

He had to keep a calm mind.

He thought of the others - his colleagues, his friends, Vivienne - leaving them behind hurt him more than they would ever realize. But if he didn't do this, in due time there wouldn't be any of them at all.

If he turned back now they could easily turn tail and find a shelter, survive until they could come up with some other plan. But he couldn't let Godzilla die. Once Ghidorah destroyed every other threat to him in the world above, he would surely turn his attention elsewhere. With Godzilla weak, it wouldn't take much effort to finish him off. Then it wouldn't matter how well hidden the remnants of humanity were. The dragon would root them out, use his subjects to raise even more destruction. And when he was finished, even the ones that managed to escape his hunts wouldn't survive. And then, perhaps, he would then turn on the titans that followed him as well.

Godzilla was their only chance.

As he entered the tunnel, he found himself becoming distracted by its sheer magnificence. It was hard to imagine how it might have been built, but given its size, it had clearly been made for Godzilla. He wondered how many people had entered this temple. Had Godzilla even been present to see them? Did he even care? At its threshold and up its steps, the architects had carved enclosures that each held statues within them. Each represented strange creatures. Although the style was a little different, he recognized them as Sumerian in origin. The figures were spirits of protection and guidance. Some said they represented the natural order. Whoever built this place seemed to have hoped it would provide the titan solitude, a place safe from the fighting and bloodshed on the surface.

Serizawa found them comforting, encouraging even. Although they couldn't protect him, he could use all the guidance they could offer.

Sweat was pouring from him now, the interior of the sub was unbearable but it wasn't enough to kill him. Not yet.

As he passed the last of the stone guardians, he knew he was past the point of no return. He could already feel his skin buzzing from the radiation, and he knew if he turned back now he would only spend the rest of his shortened life in pain. He had seen people succumb to radiation poisoning. It was no way to die.

As he approached the foot of the long stretch of steps in the temple, the light ahead grew brighter, almost like a sunrise. He was doing the right thing, he could feel it. But he was still human, and that part of him was terrified.

The sub broke the surface of the water at last, and as he surfaced it sparked and sputtered, dying at the shore of the cavern. As he climbed out, bones aching, he found himself surrounded by majesty. The drone's video had not done this place - the palace of a god - justice. Never in his life had he seen something quite like this, and he knew that not many people would. He allowed himself a moment, paralyzed with wonder, letting his eyes drink it all in before his sight would start to fail him. Looking at all of it surrounding him, Serizawa felt small. But in that single moment - the disorientation, the nausea, the pain - all of it disappeared, and his head was right.

He continued on, and as he walked he found that part of the cavern seemed to be natural, but the handprint of humanity was everywhere. Sacred carvings, glyph-covered monoliths, temples, statues - the prototype of civilization all laid out before him. It was fitting, this amalgamation of man and nature, as fitting as the relationship it signified between man and...

Godzilla lay upon a stone platform in the heart of the temple, at the top of a very long, very broad staircase. Rivers of molten lava sprayed up around him, some falling behind him in massive flows. The glow almost gave him an ethereal look.

Taking the first step on that staircase, Serizawa felt the presence of hallowed ground, that sense of being a part of something far bigger than you could comprehend. So many years of his life had been spent searching for him, from carrying on his father's work to finding his own place in the world. And over the years, he had come to understand more and more about Godzilla's irreplaceable purpose, and his own. A purpose he was fulfilling now. Looking up at the staircase, at the pulsing light that shrouded it in a ghostly veil, it felt like ascending to the afterlife.

And Serizawa found that he was no longer afraid to die.

Carrying the bomb in its case, he started up the stairs. He had only managed to take a handful of steps and already he was beginning to feel his limbs tremble, his vision blurring. Putting one foot in front of the other had become a herculean task. Feeling the darkness closing around his sight, the bomb feeling heavier in his arms, he took a deep breath. He had to keep a calm mind, and in the back of his mind, he remembered an old Babylonian poem.

Goodbye old friend. Your peaceful breath slows, Your eyes gaze upon your world. I offer to you My strength.

The lava splashed to the bottom of the cave, and in the encroaching distance Godzilla's scutes broke the flow of the light below.

Goodbye old friend. My hand reaches forth, Striving for divinity. I offer to you My love.

His breathing was getting heavier as the radiation permeated the suit. He stumbled for a moment, tripping over his own feet before getting back up.

Goodbye old friend. At the steps of your kingdom, We become one. I offer to you My life.

When he reached the summit, he did not realize it at first. But then his eyes focused, and he saw Godzilla only a few steps ahead of him. His lungs were burning, and the steam that wafted from the lava was suffocating. With a puff of air from the titan's nostrils, the steam cleared.

Serizawa knelt down, setting the case on the platform and opening the timer. With shaking fingers, he started it. Twenty seconds was all the time he needed.

Feeling around one of the suit's pockets, he took out his pocket watch, looking at it one last time, remembering his father. Suddenly, a vast groan of pain shook the chamber. Serizawa could hardly stand again, but he fought against the ache that covered his body. Using the last of his strength, he removed his helmet.

The air was thick and harsh with burnt stone and water vapor, it was nearly too much, but that was okay.

Up close, Godzilla's wounds were terrible, spanning almost his entire body. His dorsal spines were barely flickering with his signature blue light, but he would heal. And he would fight once again, bringing balance.

Serizawa could barely breathe now, as the slightest movement he took was agony. But looking at Godzilla, he felt some of that strength return. And the titan looked back. He couldn't feel himself move, but Godzilla's form was coming closer to him. Call it a hallucination, call it projecting - call it whatever you like - but as Serizawa came within inches of the titan, there was something intelligent in those eyes. Something so startlingly human. Recognition. Empathy. Heartache.

He stripped off one of his gloves, skin stinging from the contact, and laid a hand on Godzilla's scales.

"Saraba, tomo yo." Serizawa closed his eyes.

And then there was light.

[avintagekiss24]

A few days in Brooklyn.

Steve Rogers has taken over my life! I reblogged a prompt earlier today that was ‘salt and sweet’ and here you go, lol. Hope you like :) This isn’t CapKoye, so I didn’t tag anyone, but if you want to be tagged in all my Captain America stuff, just let me know! 

You’ve always been a daydreamer. You barely made it through high school, always doodling on your work, staring out the window with your chin in your palm and a strand of hair twirled around your finger. How could you not be though? You live in New York. Spiderman jumps from building to building saving old ladies from muggers. Captain America and The Winter Solider frequent the small hole in the wall bar just a block from where you live. You often see Iron Man streaking through the sky as he returns to the Stark Industries building. How is this world you live in not a fairy tale? How can you not dream?

 You met him once; the Captain. You work at this coffee shop called Brooklyn’s Finest in the middle of, you know, Brooklyn. It’s a hipster joint, certainly not a place where you’d ever dream of seeing Steve Rogers. You were behind the counter, chin in your palm, eyes plastered on the windows as you worked out a plot twist in your mind for your latest work of erotic fanfiction about him. You didn’t even realize he had walked up to the counter. He cleared his throat and you jumped in surprise, standing up straight and blinking your eyes toward him. You look away, starting to recite the greeting until you slam your eyes back toward him again. Your mouth drops open as your big brown eyes widen. He’s so… big. Tall. Wide shoulders. Huge chest. Biceps bulging. His eyes are big too. Blue-green. His dark eyelashes long and wispy. His hair as golden as the sun.

Stop staring! Fuck! You look away and begin to stutter as you feel your face begin to heat up. He chuckles a little as you fumble your way through asking his order, staring down at the POS system in front of you the entire time. That chuckle sent a chill right down your spine that you don’t think you’ll recover from.

 “Umm,” he hums lightly, his bright eyes scanning the handwritten chalk menu behind you, “I think I’ll just have a black.”

 You shoot your eyes up at him in surprise. Your brown skin is simply on fire as he cocks his eyebrow toward the ceiling, a confused smirk on his face. The coffee, you idiot! He meant he’ll take a black coffee not a black girlfriend! “A black coffee,” You mumble, “Right. Yeah. Um, that’ll be um, three twenty five.”

 He handed you the exact change, which you shoved into the cash register before you turned briskly on your heel to pour his cup. You slam your eyes shut trying to will your hand to stop shaking as you poured the hot, black liquid into the Styrofoam cup. You place the top over it with a soft click and move back in front of him, outstretching your hand. He wraps his fingers around the cup, his fingers caressing yours lightly, sending another jolt of electricity through your body. You swallow harshly before sending your eyes toward the counter.

 “Any s-s-sugar?” You stutter, “Sir?”

 He takes a sip of the tart nectar and shakes his head, “No thank you ma’am. This is perfect. Have a nice day.”

 You can’t even respond. You just nod stupidly and smile as he moves out of the shop. Perfect. Captain America said the coffee you made was perfect! You jump up and down a little, twisting your hips as your dance and squeal. Your day has been officially made. You gotta work this into your fanfic somehow.

 That was months ago now. You never saw him again after that. It’s another Brooklyn day. It’s starting to get cold. The leaves are burnt orange and yellow, but the sun is high in the sky. You pull your leather jacket around you and shove your hands in the pockets as Drake’s In my Feelings fills your ears. You keep your head low, eyes on the pavement before you as you make your way to work. The day is slow, it’s just you on duty with a small group of high school students in the corner, two young businessmen on lunch, and a few college kids tapping away on their laptops. You’re wiping down the counters, humming lightly when a blood curdling scream erupts your peaceful afternoon. You whip your head toward the noise, but don’t have time to react. Something or someone crashes through the windows and door, sending glass and tables and chairs through the air. You duck beneath the counter and cover your head, slamming your eyes closed at the sudden intrusion.

 You peak up over the counter a few seconds later, your chest heaving, your eyes wide as the scene develops before you. Aliens or robots or whatever the fuck they are, run through the streets. Loud pops sound as bullets whiz through the air. People run as fast as they can past the coffee shop, turning to keep their eyes on the threat. You turn toward the back of the shop, seeing a car door leaning up again the wall. The alien invader stands tall, shaking off it’s rough landing before running back out into the street, not even bothered by you or the other patrons. You forget your phone and your bag, rushing out onto the streets with everyone else. A loud explosion blasts on the corner, a building literally collapses in front of you, causing you to duck again, covering your ears.

 “Thor!”

 You hear the Asgardian Gods’ name being screamed and you whip to your left, just in time to see a bolt of lightning cracking through the sky. He lands with a thud so harsh, it rumbles the ground beneath your feet. A shadow distracts you, sending your eyes toward the sky as the young Spiderman slings from a light post, his body spinning and flipping effortlessly as he shoots his webs toward the enemy. You should run. You should hide. But, you can’t move. You’re frozen from fear and anxiety but also out of awe. You watch as the Black Widow and Hawkeye punch their way through the crowd, throwing alien bodies around like rag dolls. Falcon zips through the air with Iron Man and War Machine. This is incredible. Intensely frightening, but certainly incredible.

 “Ma’am! Go! Now! Run!”

 A police officer pushes you harshly, forcing your limbs out of their frozen state. He turns and fires his weapon as you begin to run in the opposite direction. A car flips through the air as explosions continue to sound around you and lands on its roof just in front of you, halting you in your tracks. You scream, covering your head with your hands. It’s one thing to write about events like this, but it’s another to be in the middle of it. You start to run again but your suddenly whisked off the ground, like you weigh nothing. Another scream escapes you as you’re carried higher and higher. You twist in the grip of your attacker and scream again as you realize that one of the earth invaders has you. He scurries up the side of the building like a cat up a tree; it’s claws breaking the bricks and making them crumble.

 You don’t know why it has you, why it picked you, but suddenly, some forty or fifty stories in the air,  it just lets you go. It’s drops you like a bad habit. Everything moves in slow motion as you reach out for something, anything to grab onto. Your hair flies around your face, your eyes wide, your mouth open as you scream and your body hurls through the air toward your certain death. You don’t see or hear Spiderman pointing toward you, calling for a certain six foot two, two hundred and forty-pound Brooklynite beneath you. The blond man whips his head toward his name being called and focuses his eyes on your falling body. He takes off in a sprint, jumping over bricks and fallen light poles, running up a parked SUV before launching himself toward you. He cuts through the air like a knife, twisting and flipping in style as he catches you in midair. You slam against his body as he cradles you in his arms, curling himself around you to take the brunt of your impending landing.

 You scream again when you finally hit the pavement, rolling and tumbling like a tumbleweed, his body still wrapped around yours. You somehow end up right side up, the blond man still holding you like a baby in his arms. You look up at him through your hair, hot air bursting through your lips and teeth as you expel it quickly. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulder and neck as you stare at your savior. Your brown eyes are big and watery as they search his.

 “Are you alright?” He asks softly through his own harsh breathing.

 You nod quickly and before you can stop yourself, you kiss him. You don’t even know where it came from. You always thought it was ridiculous when the girl kissed the hero in the movies after a near death experience, but here you are, smooching on Captain America after a death drop. He tastes of salt and sweet. An intoxicating mixture. You break away from his bloody lips with a smack and stare back at him as he stares at you.

 “Thank you.” You whisper breathlessly, still in shock and awe.

 He sets you down on your feet, pushing you into the lobby of a business building. He tells everyone to stay inside, to stay down, and cover their heads. That someone will be back for them once it’s safe. He makes eye contact with you again and holds it for a few seconds too long.  He nods slightly in your direction and takes off running back toward the fight. You and a few others rush toward the entrance, watching as he runs off, throwing his shield toward one of the aliens and throws himself into a somersault before scissor kicking two aliens in the face.

 “Holy shit.” One of the teenagers standing with you murmurs.

 Hours pass. The city is safe once again. The Avengers have cleared out, not wanting the cameras on them. Some kid with an iPhone caught your ordeal on camera and leaked it to the press. Channel three, four, five, eight and eleven surround you, their microphones in your face, shouting questions at you. The paramedics dab at you, clearing your cheek of blood and glass, but they can’t wipe the goofy smile off your lips. Your eyes sparkle as you stand in a dumbstruck haze of emotion.

 “Captain America saved my life.” You smile widely, letting out a breath as the cameras zoom in on you, “If you’re watching,” You start, staring right into one of the cameras, “Your next coffee is on me.”

 Months pass. You’re the local celebrity after having your face plastered all over CNN and other news outlets as the girl who kissed Captain America. People are even writing fanfics about you now. You’re back at work, Brooklyn’s Finest is back, better than ever with business booming once people found out you work here. You hand a coffee to a small girl and smile widely at her as she gushes over you and how pretty you are. Asking what it felt like to kiss the Captain America. You shrug, dropping your eyes as you relive the moment over for the ten millionth time in your head, “It’s everything you’d think it’d be.”

 The girl squeals in delight and moves out with her coffee, leaving you with your thoughts. You turn back toward your line and blink up at the tall man before you. You do a double take as your eyes connect with that familiar blue-green pair. He smirks back at you as all the air leaves your body.

 “I think you owe me a coffee.”

[deathbyseventeen]

Unknown to Us: C.2 A Million Nights Begin

Title: Unknown to Us || Halloween 2018 || Haunted House / Ghost Hunting AU  { Part 1: C.1 || C.2 - A Million Nights Begin || C.3 || C.4 || ……. }

Genre: Horror, Thriller, Romance, Angst

Member/s: Joshua x Reader1 ; Woozi x Reader2

Words: 1.611

Summary:

It all leads up to October. It always leads up to October.

‘Let’s go ghost hunting at Pact Mansion.’ You were never one to take up an opportunity to trespass on private property. But the puppy eyes of one of your best friends has never been something you’ve been able to resist. Now, you along with four men related by fraternity, are about to find out that some things…are just destiny.

A chorus of giggles traveled through Ledis Forrest accompanied by the crumbling of dead leaves. Through the foliage of the trees, slivers of moonlight traveled to illuminate the forest floor; and in those slivers the owners of the giggles could be seen momentarily, walking in pairs and pushing each to trespass even farther.

The animals of the forest, bright-eyed and alert, watched as they made their way through the forest, silently. It was their way to mourn.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Joshua whispered to you, bending down as he walked so that he could whisper it into your ears.

You and Joshua walked behind the rest of the group, Minghao, Wonwoo, and Seungkwan. It had only been a couple of hours before that Minghao had walked into Joshua’s room and told him that Wonwoo and Seungkwan wanted to help him with his ghost hunting plan, even if the rest of the Brotherhood had decided they weren’t going to.

At first, he had said no to him because he knew Seungcheol would be mad if he found out. But it had only taken word that you had agreed to go if he said yes to Minghao, to get him to agree. Then, at exactly 12:00 am, midnight, the four of them got up from their beds, dressed from head to toe in black, made a bundle under their bed covers to look like their bodies, and snuck out through the basement.

You, outside your own residency building, waited under a streetlamp with your arms crossed. The sweater you had put on had turned out to be too thin, but just as you were about to turn around and head back to your dorm to grab something warmer, Joshua pulled up in his car.

“I know.” You laughed, nudging him with your elbow, “I was so sure you’d say no to Minghao.”

“What? You didn’t want to come?” He said quickly, a rose-like blush spreading over his cheeks.

“No. No.” You whispered back hurriedly, “I did! I just...well it doesn’t seem like you to go against Seungcheol’s decisions.”

Joshua chuckled hesitantly and rubbed the nape of his neck sheepishly, “Well you never know.”

“Guys we’re here!!” Seungkwan screamed as they neared the clearing in which Pact Mansion rested.

In the amount of time you had spent talking with Joshua, somehow, you and he had managed to get so behind the rest of the group that you could barely just make out their figures. You smiled at Joshua and nodded for him to follow before taking off in a sprint.

You came into the clearing of the home almost tumbling over your own two feet. For a second, you thought you had felt someone push against your lower back and that was what had caused you to nearly trip. But, with Joshua’s footsteps getting louder and the other boys lingering on the porch of the house...you wrote it off as a moment of clumsiness.

“That...doesn’t look much like a mansion.” You said, head tilting as you studied the building.

Joshua coming to a stop next to you, nodded, “That’s ‘cause it wasn’t built with our concept modern architecture.”

“Josh!” Minghao called out from the porch, waving at him frantically to come over.

You followed Joshua up to the house, noting how the paint had blacked and chipped, and how the wood looked worn out. Under the new found weight that you all added, the house creaked oddly and caused everyone to freeze. You gulped. A creak as strong as that made you feel like the house was just waiting for someone or something for it to finally collapse.

“We’re gonna die in this house aren’t we,” Seungkwan said, chuckling sadly.  

“Not if we can’t get in.” Minghao shot back, giving Seungkwan a funny look. “The doors and windows all have padlocks and deadlocks on them. People really don’t want anyone coming in here.”

You glanced at the door and sure enough, there was a second door frame with a metal slab over the original door, connecting them and closing off the house with a large iron padlock.

“That… doesn’t look like something that can be picked easily.” You said, frowning.

“No worries,” Joshua smiled coyly, “I have deadbolt cutter in my backpack.”

“And I,” Wonwoo smirked, coming up from being Minghao who was peering into the house’s window, “know how to pick all types of locks.”

“I won’t even ask.” You shook your head amusedly and walked towards the window to give Joshua and Wonwoo space to work.

As they worked on prying open the door, you copied Minghao’s actions and cupped your hands around your eyes to peer into the house.  The windows, both inside and out, were coated in a weird, yellowing dust. It stained your hands for a moment before you started to rub your hands to get it off.

“Here.” Minghao said, pulling out a stack of handkerchiefs from his pocket, “I brought a lot since I thought the house might be infested with dust.”

“Thanks, Minghao.” You laughed and took one  from his stack, “I’ll make sure to use it wisely.”

When you turned back to the window, you cleaned inside the marks that your hands had created. Then you peered inside, and even though you couldn’t see entirely since the other side of the window was still coated in dust, you found yourself staring in awe at the furniture that seemed to have been placed there when the house was constructed.

Wood paneled walls, funky chairs, carpeted floors, of which the previous two seemed to have been brightly colored, could be seen just in the living room.

“Wow.” You said, still studying the interior. From the corner of your eyes, you noticed that there seemed to be a black lump on the love sofa. You felt your throat close up— no air came in nor out.

A sliver of it, long and thin, seemed to protrude from it, growing longer until it seemed to be reaching out towards you. Closer. Closer.

“Y/N—” You jumped. The owner of the voice and the hand that had just been placed on your shoulder— Joshua, as it turned out when you whipped around terrified, let out a breathy laugh, amused at your jumpiness. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You grimaced and let out a small laugh yourself.

“Well, we got the door open, so…” He grinned.

You shook your head happily, forgetting about what you had seen through the window, and followed him through the door.

The inside of the house, you noted, looked just as bad as the outside made it seem. All of the furniture was either covered in dust or had moth-created holes in them — and you were only in the main hallway, you could only imagine the rest of the house.

“I’m telling you. I don’t think it’s such a good idea for us to be here.”

“Why not? You haven’t given us one good reason why.”

“We’re trespassing.” Seungkwan hissed at Wonwoo as you walked into the living room.

“What’s going?” You asked, coming up to Minghao who was staring at the both of them.

“Seungkwan wants to leave.” Wonwoo groaned.

“Why?” You asked Seungkwan, looking at him inquisitively.

He floundered under your gaze and hesitated to tell you the truth. But soon he sighed and gave in. “I’m getting a bad vibe, like….like there’s something bad here.”

“The house is old and decaying. I’m sure it’s just because no one has been here in a while. It’s cold and  desolate, no one has been here to make it warm.” You laid a hand gently on his right shoulder. “But if you want to go home, it’s alright.”

“What? No!” Wonwoo interjected, ready to start arguing.

You turned to Wonwoo and glared at him with eyes you had no idea could pierce through people's souls and thoughts.

Wonwoo in return stopped and glared at you too, his teeth biting down against each other by the look of his squared jaw and thin frown.

“No. No. It’s okay—” Seungkwan began, shaking his head as he spoke and trying to fall into your gaze, “you’re probably right. It's just the house being colder than normal homes.”

“Speaking of homes…” Joshua jumped in and handed Seungkwan a camera.

“I think it’s time for ‘Shua to give us a little history lesson. Isn’t that right?” Minghao with a small camera already in his hands aimed it toward Joshua. A small green dot and white light emanated from it. It was recording.

The hunt was on.

“Right you are, Hao.” He answered with a goofy smile, shooting finger guns at the camera.

You stifled a laugh.

“We are in Pact Mansion,” he began, smiling widely, “A house not home for the owners of this house never got to live in it.”

A slamming door hushed you all. You gulped.

“Wasn’t that the front door?” Seungkwan asked, his voice coming out in a whisper.

“I think so,” Minghao answered him although he had twisted around to look at in the direction of the front door. After a couple of seconds, he shuddered and turned around again, this time to point the camera back at Joshua.

“You don’t think it was a—”

“Ghost? Ghosts don’t exist, Seungkwan. But they might after I tell Seungcheol that you guys went against fraternity vote.”

Jeonghan’s came slithering in from the hallway and into the room, they sat in before he himself was seen stepping into the room. There was an iciness in his stare that sent shivers down your spines and sent you reeling into the couch behind you.