#her living mirror to the past. except it's all going wrong. everyone else is living in another story without her.

[terrorpenned]

[skzdarlings]

bodyguard: the first guard | part six | chan/reader

masterlist.

(part one of the previous story.)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | tba

( read on AO3 )

A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh’s daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: the usual general content guide warnings for this stories including violence and abuse. explicit sexual content in this chapter: dom!chan, sub!reader, kinky play-fighting in a sexual scenario, hitting, smacking, chasing, pinned down, choking, taunting dirty talk, very rough play overall. content warnings: this chapter is very, very INTENSE on the violence front. graphic depictions of drowning, both voluntary and forced. explicit description of torture both physical and psychological, violence, fighting, drowning, choking, explosions.

chapter word count: 20,500 words.

enjoy <3

-

B E F O R E

Everything goes wrong. 

Felix should have known better than to rely on the enemy.  He is dependable in no regard except self preservation and even that only extends insofar as the most cowardly course of action. 

It was supposed to be a fight.  Felix did everything the way he was supposed to, everything according to plan, the way a proper soldier does.   Felix always follows through.  Felix always completes his mission. 

He played both sides.  He worked Miroh into a frenzy, suspicious of betrayals transpiring right under his nose in his own house.  He made the enemy think he stood a chance attacking Miroh, that he could knock him right off the playing board and claim all his assets in one fell swoop. 

Felix forgot the enemy was such a coward.  He was supposed to storm in here with an army, the way that Miroh does.  They were supposed to find Miroh’s regiment in chaos, everyone turned against each other thanks to his subterfuge and instigation. 

Miroh and his daughter are at each other’s throats.  The other soldiers take sides.  What should be a unified front in a run-of-the-mill acquisition mission turns into a self-sabotage as Miroh’s own team starts fighting each other. 

Miroh fights his daughter.  Felix knows, despite everything, there is a part of her that still loves, fears, or respects her father.  She doesn’t fight like she should.

Chris, however, does.  When Miroh knocks his daughter down, Chris attacks him.  Felix doesn’t worry because he knows Chris can win the fight and, besides, they are going to be rescued soon.  At that moment, everything is going according to plan.  Whether Miroh lives or dies is irrelevant.  Whether Felix lives or dies is irrelevant.  This is about Chris.  And Miroh doesn’t stand a chance against Chris, not with the full force of his fury unleashed like this.

 Miroh’s daughter just watches, stunned by how fast everything happened. 

She looks around like she expects to find answers in this dilapidated warehouse.   Her eyes land on Felix who has been standing to the side since the fight began.  Her eyes narrow as she looks at him, really looks at him, seeing what no one else sees. 

He swallows and braces his body for a fight.  She is a mirror of him as she stands, taking the exact same fighting stance.

“You told him I botched the operation,” she says.  “Why, Felix?”

“Because you did,” he answers simply. 

“I thought you were friends with Chan,” she says.  “Why would you compromise us like this?”

“Because I’m friends with Chan,” he answers with that same even steadiness, a calm that he absolutely does not feel inside.  But he is good with faces, blinking with innocence.  He tries to compel her to look away, to forget about him, that he is too young or too stupid or too innocent to really comprehend what’s happening.

She doesn’t fall for it.  She sees right through the mask and glares at him. 

He anticipates her swing, catching her punch when she hurls it at him.  They scrape back and forth but they are perfectly, frustratingly, evenly matched. 

“Why are you doing this?” she asks.  “Felix, it didn’t have to be this way.  I could’ve helped you.  I’m on your side.” 

“I can’t afford sides,” he says, shaking his head rapidly.  “I need to get out of here.  Chris needs to get out of here.  If you care about him—”

“You don’t know the first thing about that,” she snaps. 

She comes at him with even more fury.  Felix fights but his attention splits, glancing back at Miroh and Chris.  Miroh is calling for back-up on one of his devices, but he never stops fighting.  Miroh is a soldier, first and foremost.  Whatever else Felix thinks of him, that much is true and always has been.  Miroh is not scared of fight.  Miroh will jump right into the fray. Miroh will get his hands dirty. 

The enemy is not like that. 

It was supposed to be a fight.  He was supposed to storm in here with a contingency and fight the only broken house of Miroh.  In the chaos of that confrontation, Felix was going to escape with Chris.

But the enemy never shows his face.  He plants a bomb.  He detonates it at a distance. 

The warehouse is blown to pieces.  Half those fighting soldiers die on the spot and Felix is blasted backwards.  It renders him unconsciousness, though he doesn’t know how long he’s out.  Not long, he thinks, when he wakes to sunlight pouring in through a gap, ripped in the warehouse wall.  It was almost dawn when the fight began.  A new day is starting. 

He pushes himself upright.  He is covered in dust and gravel.  He coughs and sputters, getting on his hands and knees and crawling through debris and rubble.  He moves towards the light.  When he does, he sees Miroh’s daughter.  She is not far away, but she is trapped underneath something.  Pieces of the wall blew forward and there is a concrete block laying across her body.  She is alive somehow, tucked into a divot in the floorboards, but she is trapped. 

Felix, panicked, frantic, guilty, looks around for Chan as he stumbles towards her. 

He never reaches her.  Someone grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him backwards.  He sprawls onto his back.  A shadow blocks the sunlight.  It’s one of the enemy’s bodyguards. 

“The boss says you did a good job,” the man says.  More of the enemy’s men are infiltrating the place.  They don’t fight or pay any attention to the bodies.  They go right for the promised merchandise. 

Felix still can’t see Chris.  Miroh’s daughter is still trapped.  Everyone else is dead. 

“I – I—” Felix starts, but dust is cloying in his throat and he just ends up coughing.  He is dizzy, his ears ringing horribly.  The world shifts in a kaleidoscope of vomit-inducing colours as someone drags him to his feet. 

“Come on,” the man says.  “The boss wants to see you.  He says he has a job.” 

It is the last thing Felix hears before the sunlight is on his face, overwhelming him, and he passes out in the heat. 

-

P R E S E N T   D A Y

“Don’t kill him.” 

Those are your first words to Chan.  You know him by the way  his body braces itself after the shock has worn off.   Chan may not be the inhuman soldier you mistakenly believed, but he might be something even more dangerous.  Where his raw emotions meet his long-engrained instincts and deadly capabilities, fatality will ensue.  

You cannot afford that reaction.  You are here to save Changbin.  Changbin was taken because he defected, because he moved against Miroh, because he decided that you were more important than maintaining structure and keeping orders.  Changbin turning, you changing, Miroh falling: it all started the night the enemy died.  It all started because of something that began even longer ago. 

This all started with Felix. 

“I thought he was already dead,” Chan says.  His voice sounds steady but you see the tension in his form.  He is wracked with adrenaline.

“Me too,” you say. 

“Oh, you’re talking?” Felix says, looking at you. 

You suppose he saw the reports of your death. He must have been just as surprised to see you behind the mask.  Lack of expectation made him blind to recognition.

This is likely why he has not recognized Chan yet.  The fact Chan is still wearing the mask does not help, his face mostly covered, disguise foolproof to an unsuspecting witness - even despite the heated slash of his unmistakable eyes boring into Felix. 

But It has been many years.   And Felix thinks Chan is dead. 

With that thought, you say, “I guess we’re both ghosts.” 

Felix looks at Chan only briefly, seeing nothing but a soldier in a familiar uniform.  He gives your regulation combat gear a similar once-over.    His brow furrows as he scrutinizes you. 

You almost forgot this kid had such a sweet face.  Freckled and wide-eyed, you can see why so many people underestimated him time and time again.

Lee Felix is everything Miroh wanted to achieve with his program.  Maybe it is not surprising that the collapse of two major antagonists circle back to him. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

He meets your gaze. 

“The same as you, I think.”  He hesitates, then continues, “I’ve been following reports.  When I saw what was happening, I looked for the closest base and just…  I decided to help things along.” 

Despite how innocently he explains himself, you do not question his capabilities.  You will not make the same mistake as so many others and underestimate him.   You know what Felix is capable of doing.  His only flaw is too much time away from Miroh’s operation, thus a lack of understanding for its inner workings.  He cannot do what you and Chan can do, but it is the closest anyone could come.   

That is not your question. 

“Why would you care?” you ask.  Somehow, Felix escaped from everything.  He might as well be a real ghost for all that his reappearance in this fight is incomprehensible. 

“Because.”  His defensiveness softens just a little as his mind goes somewhere else, far away from the violent chrome prison of Miroh.   “Because,” he says, gentler, “I want to find a place to… to rest.  To be home.  And I can’t do that, knowing what’s still out there.  I need to help fix it.”  He looks you over again, but it is different than his earlier judgemental regard.  Still scrutinizing, but thoughtful, as he tilts his head and really considers you.  “What I helped make,” he says.  “I don’t think I can go really home until I do something about it.” 

In the space of a breath, Chan draws a handgun.  He is so fast that you don’t even see where it was holstered. 

“Why do you think you should have any of that?” Chan says, punctuating with a threatening downward push of the gun.  “Give me one reason not to shoot you.  Seriously.  Just one.”  By his venomous tone, it is obvious no reason will be good enough.

You put a hand on his shoulder.   He tries to shrug it off but you hold firm. 

“Hold your fire,” you say, maintaining your cool outwardly despite the panic inside.

During the exchange between you and Chan, Felix gets one hand free.  He bites the tip of his glove and yanks it off with his teeth. 

Chan is quick to react, seizing him by the wrist like he expects Felix to attack him with one hand.  Chan is fixated with such a single-minded determination that he does not see what you see, what Felix was actually trying to show you.

A ring around his marriage finger, simple and unadorned.  

After a suspended beat of silence, Chan looks down.  He sees the ring too.  Most of his face is covered but you see the flicker of pain in his eyes, something like a slash across his brow.  He reels back as if a bomb detonated.  Instinct puts the gun back into his palm, the barrel at his adversary, but it shakes just short of imperceptibly.  You are not sure if the uncharacteristic tremor is inner conflict or pure rage.    

“This is my one reason,” Felix says calmly.  “This is my reason for everything.”

Even though you still don’t have all the answers, seeing that ring turns the world right-side up.  Of course Felix turned on the enemy, not out of ambition or cruelty, but love.  The thread of it runs through every action committed in the last few months, something you could not see despite its prevalence beneath the surface of your life.  None of this is happening because of the rivalry of two greedy monsters and the chaos they sowed.  It’s happening because of everything that somehow thrived in spite of it. 

So much makes sense now, looking at him, at that ring.  You think of the security footage being scrubbed after everyone died.  Felix was always good with computers and he probably worked well with the enemy’s high tech systems – certainly well enough to wipe them entirely.   It gave him time to run off with the other half of that wedding band.  You suspect the enemy’s daughter wears the other ring. 

Chan is staring at that ring like he wants to burn it, like he wants to cut the whole hand right off. 

Tentative, testing, you ask, “Did you kill them?”  

Felix ignores Chan.  He looks at you, his brow furrowing with confusion. 

“Who? Miroh’s agents?” he asks.  “Most of them are already running off and—”

“Not them, not here, not tonight,” you say.  “The enemy.  His men.  His daughter.  Did you kill them to get away to do – whatever it is you’re doing?”

He swallows.  Your suspicions are confirmed when you see the flicker of anxiety in his eyes.  It is obvious to you that he is lying when he says, “Yes, I killed them.  The enemy.  His family.  His men.  They’re all dead.”

“Not all of them,” Chan says.   His frustration returns and he digs the gun at Felix.    “I’m looking at one.”   

“Stop it,” you say sharply.  “I need him to answer me.”   

Felix is understandably stressed with an unknown hostile threatening him.  He overlaps with you, snapping, “Seriously, mate, I’m co-operating, what more do you want?” 

“I want to kill him,” Chan says with an exhale.  Though he is looking at Felix, you feel like he is seeing so much more than the moment as it unfolds.  The amount of emotion in his voice is uncharacteristic for him on a job.  He is  compromised by years of pent-up feelings, bursting inside him.  “I want to blow his fucking brains across this warehouse,” Chan says, putting the barrel right in Felix’s face.

He is so fast and deliberate.  You are worried he will act before you can even think to prevent it. Panicked instinct makes you blurt, “Chan! Stop it!”   

At the same time, Felix grabs the gun and uses the element of surprise to overpower Chan, just enough to safely yank the gun to the side.

Either the shouting or the grabbing triggers Chan’s finger because the gun goes off.  It fires directly at the ground and kicks back so violently that it skitters across the floor like an animal.  

The piercing howl of the gun leaves a ringing silence in the aftermath. 

The reverberation of Chan’s name seems deliver the fatal blow, landing with far more violence. 

Felix is breathing hard, adrenaline coursing from the attempted shot.  He stares at nothing particular, just catching his breath – chasing and catching, then stalling, stopping.  He holds it.    

He slowly turns his gaze onto Chan.  He looks at him like he is seeing him for the first time, eyes meeting the dark line of anger that stare above the mask. 

Felix’s entire face smooths out, softens, with recognition. 

“Chris,” he says, not much louder than a breath, somehow as piercing as the gunshot. 

Chan responds by choking him, a big gloved hand snapping out and seizing his neck, so fast and powerful it is a wonder he does not snap it on impact. 

“Don’t say my name,” Chan says, “you backstabbing—”

You drop onto your knees, grabbing Chan by the arm.   He doesn’t relent even a little.  You know you can’t budge him with anything but words, so you say, “Chan.  Stop.  I’m serious.  Please.” 

With an exhale, Chan loosens his grip, just enough for Felix to cough.  

Felix’s eyes are watery, his voice strained when he says, “Changbin told me you were dead.  I thought the enemy—”

“The enemy?” Chan asks.  “You mean your employer?  Your ally?  What enemy?  Aren’t we your enemy, Felix?” 

“No,” you answer firmly, interrupting a dazed Felix.  “Miroh was his enemy,” you say.  “Just like Miroh was our enemy.  Now let him go.” 

Chan clearly does not want to obey.  Release comes in increments, just a slack of the hand before he finally huffs and withdraws.  He swings back and stands.  He does not look down again, staring forward like a soldier in formation.

Felix rolls onto his side in a wheezing fit.  Chan must have hit him at a sensitive juncture – likely on purpose – because it takes him several gasping attempts to breathe again. 

When his shoulders stop heaving, you grab him, not violently like Chan but nonetheless aggressive.  It is enough to get his attention, his watery eyes turning up to you.   

He looks so young.  You and Chan are only a few years older.  Do you look that young?  You certainly don’t feel it, burdened with lifetimes, known and unknown. 

Then again, his eyes seem to show a similar burden within.  The band on his finger tells a story beyond what you know of the runaway soldier. 

“You have questions,” you say.  “So do I.  Maybe together we can both finally get some answers.” 

Felix looks over his shoulder.  Chan does not look down to meet his eye.  After a moment of staring without reciprocation, Felix nods curtly and looks at you. 

Felix holds out his hand to shake.  He winces in pain as he digs out his voice. 

“Agreed.” 

-

You need to get away from the facility.  It has been undermined but not shutdown.  You would not have targeted such a big base and you’re the true key to bringing down most of these operations.   Your classification was high so you can navigate with ease despite the removal of your logins and security clearance.  Chan’s classification was just as high if not higher, though very different.  Together, there are results.

Your attacks are carefully and meticulously planned breakdowns, accounting for every bone in the finger of the hand throwing a punch.  Felix’s attack was more like throwing an emotional swing at an adversary when their head is turned.  It is something that seems like a good idea until the head swings back around. 

You retreat.  

The tension between Felix and Chan is palpable.  You ran many jobs against the enemy and, even a distance, you knew Felix to retain a professional demeanour.  Around Chan, he becomes a little kid again.  You almost see your own reflection in Felix as you also become someone else around Chan. 

That includes a streak of newfound empathy.  You would usually disregard feelings, especially on a job, but that is not so easy anymore. 

You stop Chan outside the car, gripping his bicep while Felix climbs in the backseat. 

“You need to relax,” you say.

Chan has not removed the mask yet.  You can only imagine the intensity of his expression without it. Even with half his face hidden, his expression is burning.  That heat touches you, a twining flicker of a flame.  It is brief but it scorches somewhere deep as he looks at you with all that fire. 

The heat is doused with his ice cold voice. “Felix is the reason this happened,” he says.   

You come back to yourself, blinking to clarity.  You furrow your brow.

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“This.  All of this,” he hisses.  You can hear his heavy breathing muffled in the mask.  “He sold you out to Miroh. He’s the reason—” 

His voice cracks.  A memory of him flickers through your mind, cast over him like a projection, those desperate eyes and that muted cry.  You glance back at Felix who is waiting patiently in the car.  His face is downturned, dark hair falling over his eyes.  He twists the ring around and around his finger.  When he looks up, that projection flickers over him too, an image of him in his teenage years, with round cheeks and shaggy hair, staring with the intensity of someone who has already seen too much.  He does not look apologetic and he does not look happy; he is just there. 

You blink back to the present, looking down at the dirt beneath your feet, feeling the nighttime breeze on your face. 

Truthfully, this revelation does not come as a shock.  Your deduction was made in the rolling tension, looking between them, recalling the timeline of events.  Even if Felix was not outright responsible, you suspected he was implicated on some level.  It is the only way to explain Chan’s strong feelings for his betrayal.    

Maybe it should fill you with a similarly righteous fury, but it does not. Maybe it’s because you don’t know what you lost. Maybe it’s because you can only picture an indifference in Felix.   Maybe it’s because of that ring on his finger, of everything that has happened recently.  You are not suffering the same visceral hatred as Chan, lost in his past. 

Now, Felix is alive, having escaped the clutches of the enemy, a man like Miroh, doing it for someone he cares about.  Now, he has willingly returned to right his wrongs, whatever he perceives them to be. 

Now, you cannot find it in your heart to hate him.  So much of that is because of the complicated man in front of you.  Chan has worked his way past your barriers in a few short days that feel like lifetimes.  It has given you a heart to follow.   

You wish things were easier, but wishing will not manifest another reality.  You can only touch him like a person, one to one, heart to heart, hold his angry gaze until it softens just a bit, and say, “I know.”

He exhales.  A lot of that anger tangles up with his grief.

“We were kids,” you continue before he can interject.  “We all made difficult decisions in impossible circumstances that not even a reasonable adult could navigate.   He wouldn’t have traded one enemy for another if it was truly self-serving.”    

This still does not register with any significance to Chan.  His eyes are slitted and angry. 

 “I don’t blame him for what happened,” you say in a firmer voice.  “And I don’t blame you.”

That hits him and it hits him hard.  His body braces and his eyes widen, jolting like he was electrocuted.    

“If you can’t trust him,” you say, tone gentler, “then trust me.”

Chan does not answer, only exhales again, dramatically with a droop of his shoulders.  He opens the passenger door and gets in.  Felix stares at him but Chan stares ahead.  The mask stays on. 

You take a breath to steady yourself then take the driver’s seat.  You set your destination further out of town, tucked away in some farmland you passed on your travels. 

When you leave the district, Felix gets alert.  His eyes are big in your rearview mirror as the highway lights flash golden over him.  You recall last seeing him at a distance, his hair a golden blonde, returned now to a natural darkness.  You think about how much you have changed in days and wonder how much he changed in years.  It makes you sympathetic to those wide eyes and the anxious twisting of his ring. 

“I don’t want to leave too far from town,” he says, meeting your gaze in the rearview mirror. 

“You’ll go wherever we take you,” Chan says. 

“I have to get home,” Felix replies. 

“It’s dangerous to be running missions on your own,” you say before a fight begins.  “Don’t you think?”

“I knew I could handle myself,” Felix says.  “And they were just… they were right there.  I couldn’t do nothing.  Not when—”  He looks at Chan and his voice drops even lower, like it hurts to speak.  “You blame me,” Felix says.  He sounds resigned already, like he expected this all along, that even as a ghost Chan would despise him.  “I’m the reason they captured you,” Felix says.  “Because I failed.  All these years, I tried – I waited – I –“

“Don’t talk to me,” Chan says.  “If it was up to me, you’d be dead.” 

Felix just nods. 

“So you’ve gone civilian for real?” you ask, steering the conversation.  “You think that’s where you belong?”

It’s not an empty question.  You do not have time to consider what will happen after you rescue Changbin and take down the operation, but a civilian life has not crossed your mind.  Fighting back-to-back with Chan makes you feel like your life’s purpose is realized, especially now that it is in the employ of your own heart and not Miroh’s greed.  You cannot fathom the life course that Felix, of all people, has chosen. 

“I know exactly where I belong,” he says.  “I belong with her.” 

Chan turns his head, just a bit, clearly listening.  It makes Felix speak even more earnestly, incapable of lying under that attention. 

“When I – when I was kid,” Felix says.  “I – I guess I sorta idolized anyone I could.  I was – broken.  I needed something whole to hold.” 

Chan turns away and Felix looks down, down at his ring like it is telling a story to him. 

“It wasn’t like that with her,” Felix says.  “She, uh, she actually hated me.”  He laughs, the sound of genuine humour piercing through the tension in the car like a lightning bolt.   “She was, uh, she was – she was broken too, I guess.  We were different, but… we were the same.   I never made her an idol like that.  She was – she was just a girl.”  He looks out the dark window.  His voice is a little lower.  “It became love anyway,” he says.  “I – I never wanted that before.”  He looks towards Chan again, a more frantic edge returned to his voice as he says, “If I knew then, what I know now, about everything, about – about how to be a person, I – I would have done things differently.” 

There is a long moment of silence.  The car hums and the highway lights roll over and over. 

Chan finally says, “It’s too late for that now.”  

It is undoubtedly not the reply that Felix wants to hear, but it is a reply, and that is enough to make Felix release a held breath. 

When you reach your destination, tucked away from the chaotic world, Chan promptly leaves.  Felix steps out of the car but doesn’t follow, taking the hint as Chan stalks towards a distant treeline and melts into the darkness with a practiced ease. 

Felix turns as you approach.

“What happened after I left?”  he asks.  He looks over his shoulder but Chan is either gone or impossible to see.  “From the outside I couldn’t – I didn’t know – all I could do was – wait and—”

You let him stutter for a minute, to see what words will he find.  You are surprised when he looks between you and the trees and makes a gesture.

“Are you and him…?” he asks. 

Internally, you are surprised and it makes your heart skip.  Externally, you maintain a stoic demeanour. 

Blinking, you ask, “Why?”

That seems to answer the question without answering.  Felix nods, a repeated bobbing of the head.  He swallows before speaking again. 

“I – I want to know that he’s okay,” he says. 

That might fracture your stoic regard.

“Was it for him?” you ask.

“I thought I could save him,” he says, and laughs without humour.  “I was stupid about it.” 

“It’s not stupid to want to save a friend,” you say, that stoicism undoubtedly splintered.  You sigh. “You just have to understand that Chan has been through something that we can’t really understand.  I know Changbin told you he was dead.  That wasn’t entirely wrong.” 

“It was that bad?” Felix asks.  He doesn’t wait for an answer, shaking his head.  He runs his fingers through his hair, movements jittery and anxious.  “Of course it was.”  He is then struck with a flicker of awareness.  He looks at you very directly, tilts his head at a questioning, curious angle.  “Where is Changbin?” he asks, looking upset in a different way, marked with anger. 

You recall the mission with Changbin and the enemy’s daughter.  At the time, everything was an attempt to draw the enemy away from a rare offensive strike as he tried to move in on Miroh’s territory.  You were behind the scenes of it, sending Changbin after the daughter, luring away the enemy and also luring Felix back to Miroh.  It might have worked if Felix was not determined to rescue the girl.  He slipped through Miroh’s fingers a second time. 

At the time, you were confused like everyone else.  Felix’s motivations were befuddling at the very best.  No one knew why he left.  Now you know he left for Chan, no doubt striking a dangerous deal with the enemy to rescue him, a foolish bargain that would have seen like a life preserver to a drowning little boy.   You are certain that after a time, Felix would have been smart enough to realize it.  So the only thing more perplexing than why he left, is why he stayed. 

The ring on his finger answers that question.

“Does she know you’re out here?” you ask.

The question captures his full attention, forgetting his previous query.  He stares back at you.  He looks like a predatory creature with his hackles raised, bristled and stiff and alert. 

“Yes,” he finally says.  “She didn’t like it.  But yes.”

“Smart girl,” you say.  “Makes sense… considering who her father was.”  

As fast as Chan pulled that gun, Felix is in your space, every inch on guard. 

“Leave her alone,” he says, all that boyishness gone in a flash.   Though you do not doubt his honesty in some ways, you know Felix is good with faces.  Under his mask is a soldier, bodyguard, and now it seems lover, and you are not which will be more dangerous. 

You raise your hand in surrender.   

“You want to know what happened to Chris,” you say, placating.  “Miroh took him.  That man—” You also look towards the treeline, seeing nothing in the pitch.  “That man is someone different now.”

Felix looks there too.  You think the sadness in his face is genuine. 

“What happened to the enemy?” you ask.  The events of that night have haunted you.  It is the reason you are here today.  “Did you take him out on your own?”

“No,” Felix says, slowly facing you again.  “No.  It was no one important to the enemy.”

You stare at him with obvious disapproval for such a vague answer. 

“It wasn’t an enemy,” he clarifies.  “It was a friend.  Her friend.  He came back for her as soon as he could and he helped us get away.  He was just a civilian.  Not a soldier, not an enemy.  He just did it for a friend.” 

You fall silent as you recall the dream where a weight is lifted off your chest, where you can breathe after so long caged, of Changbin peering down at you with all that concern. 

“Why’d you turn against your father?” Felix asks. 

Heart thumping, you say,  “For a friend.”   

Some of the tension leaves him, his stiff posture slackening.  His face is flush with recognition. 

“You don’t know where Changbin is, do you?” he asks.  “That’s why you’re out here.” 

The heaviness of his tone makes you pause.  You let yourself linger in a momentary what-if, if you learned all this sooner and did something to help all of you, but that thought leads nowhere helpful.  It has happened.  Like Felix, you cannot change the choices you made when you did not know better, when you were surviving in impossible circumstances.  You are doing something now.  

You let your honest emotion show when you say, “I think he was waiting.”

“For what?”  

For me, you think.  “For things to change,” you say.  “And now they have.”

“Now they have,” Felix echoes. 

You think you understand him.  Not like Chan, not like Changbin.  You look at Felix and see someone still struggling with himself, lost and grappling for answers.  He is quiet under the immensity of the night sky, the range of feelings inside him just as vast.

“I’m looking for him,” you say.  “All this – it’s because of him.  He gave himself up to save me.  I’m going to get him back.  I’m going to bring an end to all of this.  It will never happen to anyone again.” 

Felix straightens, once more on guard, but he is not antagonistic.  He is on your side of the fight and you believe he finally sees that. 

“Do you know anything about him?  Anything at all?” you ask.  Felix got a better look at the military base before it went to ground.  Maybe his perspective will offer some insight beyond what you gleaned from the research facilities.  “I don’t know where my father put him,” you say.  “But I know he’s out there.  I know he’s still in Miroh’s web.”

“What makes you think he’s still alive?” Felix asks, brow furrowed. 

“What made you think Chan was alive?” you retort. 

“Okay,” Felix says, chastened. “I did release some prisoners at the base, but Changbin wasn’t there.  I would’ve recognized him this time.”  His earlier anger towards Changbin seems to dissipate.  He regards you with eyes that look more than a little guilty.  “I thought he died with the others, you know,” Felix says.  “I didn’t – I thought this whole time—”

“Trust me,” you say, with a humourless laugh. “You don’t need to tell me about the past confusing you.” 

Felix takes the empathy at face value, nodding.  He idly adjusts a hip holster while talking, gaze elsewhere, moving through his recollection. 

“I only really talked to one of the prisoners, yeah,” Felix says.  “They were all in bad shape but he wasn’t thinking clearly.  When I got them out, he thought I was there for him.  He thought he was being sent back somewhere ‘worse.’”  

“Worse?” you say, with a drop in your gut.  You have firsthand knowledge of the kind of torture that Miroh is willing to enact on its allies, never mind its enemies, so you can only begin to imagine.  It may lead you to Changbin after all, now that he is classified as a turned asset and enemy to Miroh.  “Worse how?” 

“I don’t really know,” Felix says.  “He just said he didn’t wanna go back to the white room.  It didn’t mean anything to me.  Does it to you?”

It shouldn’t mean anything.  White room is a vague description that could describe any plain interior at any site.  It sounds like the empty ramblings of a traumatized prisoner, disjointed thoughts that could describe any facility on any base. 

And yet –

When Felix says those words, in that context, that way, with all that uncertainty and pain in his eyes – you see a flash in the back of your mind.  You let yourself drift towards it.  It is not screaming cold like other memories, memories that send you hurtling through the dark.  It’s quiet.  Empty.  You see an impossibly bright white room.  There are no windows or doors, at least none that you can perceive.  It’s the opposite of the Cell, of those tunnels, of that well.  It’s not endless black.  It’s a shock of white. 

It’s nothing.  How can nothing feel like something?

“Do you know it?” Felix asks.

You shake your head, the brightness dimming as the real world and the dark night settle around you. 

“No,” you say.  The little twinge behind your eyes starts to pound.  “Maybe.” 

There is a beat of silence between you, enough confessions made to the dark to satisfy for now.  It has been a long night. 

Felix sighs, his long exhale feathering the hair over his forehead.  He turns to the trees, looks across the farmland, then up at the too big sky. 

“He doesn’t want to see me,” Felix says. 

There is a bone deep sadness to Felix, all in his eyes and the slump of his shoulders.  And that is just what he is letting you see.

“It’s complicated,” you say in lieu of anything more comforting. 

You understand that Chan blames Felix for what happened in the past.  At the same time, you don’t think that is where Chan’s problem truly lies.  You remember his words at the motel; not wishing you were someone else, but wishing he was.   He can accept you have changed, but he cannot accept that he has too.  Whether it was against his will, to survive, to keep you alive, he had to become someone else.  It must make him as alien to himself as your elusive past is to you presently. 

You have all made mistakes in desperation.  And now Felix is here, the past gone, a ring on his finger and a future ahead.  Chan does not have that.  He wants to be the boy who did no wrong and protected everyone.  But through his mistakes, your mistakes, Felix’s mistakes, he can’t be anymore.  He hasn’t been for a long time. 

Felix gets to go home because it’s ahead.  Chan can’t do that because it’s behind him.  Maybe he does hate Felix for the part he played, but you know he hates himself and his own circumstances more.  

“Can you – can you –”  Felix stammers.  “Can you just – tell him please – that I’m sorry for how it went down.”

“He knows, Felix,” you say, believing it honestly.   You have come to know Chan.  You believe that beneath all the pain and resentment, he knows it all comes down to Miroh. 

Felix nods.  He lingers in that thought for a moment, casting his eyes towards the sky.   His shoulders fall. 

“This isn’t over yet, is it,” he says, more an observation than question. 

“Not quite,” you say. 

“If you—”  Felix looks at you again, dark eyes earnest.  “If you need help...  Find me.  Seriously.  I want this to be over for good.”

You accept his proffered hand and shake.  When you try to withdraw, he holds on. 

“I’m sorry to you too,” he says.  “I don’t know what happened after I left, but…” 

You wish it was as easy as blaming Felix.  If this was about one foolish boy and one childish mistake, then everything would be so easy to fix.  But you know better.  You squeeze his hand and nod, reflecting his emotions like a mirror. 

“I know who my enemies are,” you say. 

He nods and finally drops your hand.  Another moment passes, the night breeze blowing between you, then Felix says it is time for him to go. 

“I know where we are,” he says, looking across the deserted farmland.  His eyes settle on some distant fields, sloping into a distant wood.  He looks at you again and nods.  “I think it’s for the best I get myself back.  Good luck.”

He has only taken a few steps when you ask, “How will I find you again?”

He looks at you.  For a second, there is a flicker of a friendly soul, life in his eyes as they crinkle with a smile. 

“Hmm, if you are who I think you are,” he says, “you’ll figure it out.” 

You take that as a confirmation of trust if nothing else, that he turns his back and walks away without fear you will pursue him with any reactive violence.   When he has crossed over the border of the property, disappearing down a path, you turn the opposite way to where Chan vanished.  With a sigh, you seek him out. 

Of course the impossible man chose the absolute creepiest part of the property to sequester himself.  It is difficult to see, even for you, as you pick up your feet to avoid tripping over spindly roots.  You realize the overgrown trees are a former orchard, though the fruit is long since rotted, the thick branches bare. 

“Chan,” you say, an edge to your voice.  “Chan, he’s gone.”   

Something cracks behind you.  You turn, mouth open with a remark that flitters into breath because he isn’t there.  Not even a moonlit silhouette interrupts the darkness. 

You turn back around and almost jump right out of your skin.  Chan is standing there, stanced like he has been waiting for hours.  You thump him on the shoulder, cursing. 

“Sorry,” he says, more automatic than sincere.   

He is still wearing the mask, still braced with so much tension.  You are standing close, close enough that if you were a target he would already have a hand around your neck.  You think of the number of people over the years, subject to that exact moment; the number of times he would have stood there, just like this, appearing out of the shadows and striking.

You think of how he got there.  You think of why he stayed. 

“Are we going?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.  That exact expression was the first one he really gave you, the first hint he was more than Miroh’s soldier. 

Maybe you have a heart now, or something like it, but it is still woefully inadequate when it comes to function.  You do not know how to express the mess of feelings inside you.  There is no instant healing for the years suffered between you, but you wish you could make him understand that you are not afraid, that you mean it when you say you choose this Bang Chan, not in spite of everything but because of it. 

“He wanted to save you,” you say.  Before he can form a retort, you continue, “I know you didn’t ask him to save you. You didn’t ask him to make any bargains.  But he wanted to do it, not unlike what you did for me.” 

“That’s different,” he says quickly.  It sounds almost like a huff, like a punch in the gut. 

“I know how it feels, to be both you and Felix,” you say.  “To not like or understand yourself.  Do you think I don’t understand?  Do you think I’m scared of you in the mask?”

His shoulders lower and he looks at you, lifetimes of emotion in his eyes. 

“I don’t think you’re scared of anything,” he says.  “You never have been.  That’s what terrifies me.” 

“Chan—”

“I can’t lose you again,” he says, walking right up to you, an inch from your face, yet so propelled by adrenaline that he seems unaware of his own proximity and desperation.  “I can’t,” he says.  “Seeing Felix, it – it freaked me out, okay?  It put me back there again. For years, I –  I felt like if I could – if I could get back at him – for betraying my friendship – it would somehow undo it – it would be like it didn’t happen – I don’t—” 

He seems to remember his mask all at once, abruptly reaching up to rip it off.  His arm swings down to his side, mask loose in his fingers.  The sudden reveal of his whole face makes your breath catch, as if you haven’t been staring at him for days, as if he hasn’t engrained himself in your consciousness like he never left. 

You stare at each other, hardly any space between you.  His voice is heavy, his shoulders slumped, like gravity is pulling him straight down past the earth, like it’s a fight just to stand there. 

“I don’t want those things to have happened to us,” he finally says. 

“I know,” you whisper back.    

“I’m so scared of fucking this up,” he says, with a hiccup of a laugh, arms hanging limp in a helpless slouch.  “So fucking scared something is going to happen.  If not Felix, then – then anything – then—”

You place a hand on his chest, palm above his racing heart.  His breath catches, adrenaline still coursing. 

“Well.”  You smirk and it feels more natural than a smile.  It helps you dig your honest feelings out of your chest, buried so deep, sifting through your fingers like sand until you seize your beating heart and feel it come to life.  “We might be a couple of disasters,” you say, “but we’re here, together, in spite of it all.  We’ll figure it out eventually.” 

You trail your hand down his chest, past his side, fingers loosely tracing the top of the mask.  You hold his gaze the entire time. 

“You found me once, didn’t you?” you say.   “I trust you to do it again.”

“I didn’t,” he says, laughter walking the edge of a cry.  “I should have.  But you were the one who spoke to me in that van.  You were the one who asked for help. You were the one that found me. I didn’t do anything but follow.”    

“Is it too much to ask you to continue to do that?” you ask.  “At least a little longer?”

He leans towards you, almost like he is falling, that gravitational pull leading straight to you. 

“Always,” he says.  “I go wherever you go, remember?” 

He said that before, that first night when he comforted you.  He says it now with a laugh, though it comes up like it pains him, an ache in his chest.   

You think he might have sworn that promise a long time ago.   

“I want you,” you say firmly.  “Not the little boy you were, not just Miroh’s creation, but all of this, all of you.  I want your anger and I want your fear. I want the only guard who could fight me in that ring.  I want the only agent who was able to chase me down.”  You hold his gaze even when the intensity makes you sweat, uncharacteristically nervous with a twist in your gut that is so much more than lust or camaraderie.  “I need the only person I could have ever asked for help.” 

He exhales through his nose, then smiles a weak smile. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, shakes his head, laughs dryly.  His exhale is shaky.  “Because… honestly, baby…”  The pet name rolls thoughtlessly off his tongue, natural in his honesty.  He looks at you without any masks, eyes soft where they meet yours, jaw clenched with some baser instinct.  “Because I – I’m really fucking angry.”

“Good,” you say.  “So am I.”

You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way Chan does.  Your father saw a soldier, your subordinates saw a commander, Felix saw a complicated ally, and Changbin saw a lost friend.  When Chan looks at you, it feels like he sees all of you at once, every layer down to the bone, and that should be terrifying.  That much exposure should make a soldier run for cover, layer on every piece of armour you can get your shaking hands on. 

For some reason, he looks at you, and you just want to strip that armour off, piece by careful piece, and see what you will find in the reflection of his gaze. 

You think he feels the same.  It’s all you want, and it’s all so much, and you let yourself feel every tingling reverberation of that passion before you step away. 

“Come on,” you say.  “This fight is far from over.” 

You anticipate his next move but your breath catches anyway. 

Chan pulls you back, straight into his arms.  The mask hits the ground with a clatter as he grabs you by the neck, a gloved hand cupped carefully around your jaw.   He drags you into him and kisses you even more deeply than that last teasing kiss.  This kiss does not merely say, I don’t want to be your friend.  It does not merely say, I want to be more.  

It says, I want to be everything. 

And he hands everything over, and you take it, and you give everything back with your hand buried in his hair and your mouth open against his.

With a thousand more questions to ask and a mission to complete, but with information and honesty and hope – the fight ahead does not seem so daunting. 

-

You look at Chan in the passenger seat.  He is sprawled out, stripped down to a compression shirt that is far less bulky than the protective combat layers.  It should make him appear smaller, but his presence continues to fill every space he occupies.    Even where he does not literally touch, you feel him. 

He idly turns the mask over in his hands.  His eyes are ahead, over the dashboard, focussed on some distant point.  He has sweat through some of his hair product so his dark hair falls to frame his face a little more.   He pushes some of it back and you have to remind yourself to look at the road and not his hands, the corded veins when he flexes and moves his fingers, or his lips when he takes in a breath, or his thighs when he slouches and lets his knee fall against the console. 

Failing your mission because of a car accident would be a little preposterous, so you clear your throat and look ahead.  You feel him glance at you, but you refrain from looking back. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask, using the excuse of concentration to avoid eye contact. 

“Yeah?”

“Promise to tell the truth?”

“You know I will,” he replies.  

He knows the question will not be too serious.  You agreed to discuss the mission parameters when settled at the new hotel.  You explained that Felix gave you information but it needs dissection.

So he must expect the halfway teasing lilt when you ask, “Is there a part of you – even a small part –that feels, hmm, a little shallow satisfaction that you wound up with Miroh’s daughter on your side despite everything he tried?” 

Your phrasing is a little convoluted but he sees right through it, brow quirking up. 

“Uh-huh…  Is that what you’re really asking me?” He looks dramatically contemplative as he throws your teasing back at you. “Or did you mean – Do I feel like I got back at the bad guy by fucking his little girl?” 

“I’m not little,” is your flustered retort. 

His laugh is a breathy snort.  You feel him look at you again.  When he does not elaborate, you surrender to your desire and glance his way. 

His tongue is poking into his cheek, his eyes narrowed but not with frustration, just a combination of scrutiny and amusement at whatever he finds. 

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing.”  He sits back again, leans his head on the headrest, smirking to himself.  “It’s just… that’s not the first you’ve asked me that question.  Why are you asking me now?”

“Why did I ask you then?” you blurt.  You are asking him now because you are trying to goad him into opening up on some of those darker or angrier feelings.  Was it for a similar reason you asked before?  It gives you a sudden tether to that past version of you, still a stranger, but maybe not so different. 

“Then,” he says.  He loses some of that jovial edge, looking a little more serious as he falls into recollection.  He rubs the back of his neck. 

“You can tell me,” you say when he lingers on his thought, words so clearly perched on the tip of his tongue.  “Really.” 

You are expecting any number of dramatics.  You are not expecting him to giggle. 

“You fell for me first,” he says. 

“No, I didn’t,” you reply automatically.  You have no idea if it is true or not, but you instinctively balk at the suggestion.  Even though your intimacy with Chan feels so unique, no doubt propelled by that complicated history, you still only know yourself as someone pragmatic and distant.  You cannot picture yourself at any age stumbling head-over-heels for some boy, even one with dimples like that. 

“Ohh no, you definitely did,” he says.  “Sorry, but you were allll over me—”

You thump him on the chest.  It’s a good solid thwack in the middle of his giggles. 

“Hey, hey!” he says.  “You asked.”

“You’re lying.”

“Now, now, come on.  I wouldn’t do that.”

 “I regret asking.” 

“It can’t be that hard to believe,” he says, tapping his chin with exaggerated pensiveness.  “I thiiiink… and correct me if I’m wrong… but I’m preeetty sure it was you who came onto me this time around too…” 

“That – I –” You laugh at your own stammer, so startled that you can’t help but break. 

He giggles some more, a tittering heeheehee that seems very incongruous in his black uniform with a combat mask on his knee.

When the laughter softens, he sighs a little.  He looks at that mask, absently runs his thumb along the frame. 

“It was a fair question, at the time,” he says.  “I think you knew how I felt.  How at first it wasn’t – it wasn’t really serious for me.  Not like that.  I was a bit distracted with, you know, life sucking.” 

“Fair enough,” you say, snorting in amusement at describing the child soldiership special-ops program as simply life sucking.  Diluting the power and dramatics is oddly cathartic, the laughter leaving a pleasant warmth in your chest.   It makes you brave enough to ask, “What changed?”

He looks at you, maybe gauging your wellbeing.  You both know the reconfiguration reports warn that too much sudden recollection can trigger a breakdown.  But there is a separation here, the girl in your past just a story on his tongue, even if you do like the way he says her name. 

“Uh, actually, it was seeing you with Changbin,” he finally says.  His posture gets defensive with his vulnerability, an arm slung across his chest. He idly scratches his shoulder while he talks.  “You were friends.  Really friends.  I didn’t – I didn’t really know how you managed to be friends, to be honest.   I never – I mean.” 

He huffs like he is frustrated with his own inarticulateness.  You wait, eyes on the road, taking some of the pressure off.  He eventually sighs. 

“The first program,” he says.  “All those kids – I only knew them for a bit, then they were all gone.  It was just me.  Then they brought in the next group.  I think a part of me was always waiting for the day something would happen to them too.  How can you really learn to care about people if you know everyone is just gonna be taken away from you?” 

He picks up the mask again.  He looks at it while speaking. 

“The other part of me wanted to care,” he says.  “Really fucking badly.  I don’t know what it was, though.  The trauma, my reputation, something about me, but I—”  He puts the mask down, looks out over the dashboard.  “Even before I put this on, before I made that deal with Miroh – I didn’t really belong.  People respected me, kinda, I guess, or were scared of me.  Yeah, lots of people have been scared of me.  And maybe it was actually easy to become that guy, maybe it was in me all the time.  Because even back then, it was like I always separate from everyone else.  I still am.  It’s like – it’s like there’s just this glass wall around me.  Sometimes there’d be moments, people, like with Felix for a while, where they’d look at me and I’d look right through it and forget it was there.  Then the light would hit the glass and I’d remember I was different.  Separate.  Alone.” 

He pauses but it doesn’t feel like he is waiting for an interjection.  Truthfully, you don’t know what to say. 

“You and Changbin,” he says, punctuating by smacking the mask against his thigh.  “You guys were different, yeah.  Didn’t matter what they tried to do you.  You stuck together.  You – you had it just as bad as me because you were Miroh’s daughter but you never let it – never let him – never let any of them tell you who you are.  And I just remember one day, I was looking at you.  Really looking.  You were with Changbin and you were patching him up after a fight.  You were both beat to hell and back but you were laughing together and I – I just thought—”

His voice gets softer, like the words are too fragile to speak. 

“I thought,” he says, “I would give anything to have you look at me like that too.” 

His words leave a stunned silence in their wake.  He eventually tries to deflect the tension with a laugh, smiling  at you, but with a smile that does not reach his eyes. 

After the words have washed over you and after the jumbled mess of confusion that is your consciousness sifting through it, you say, “Glass coffin.”

“Excuse me?” he asks. 

“Sorry.”  You shake your head.  “Just – that’s how I’ve felt.  Buried alive in a glass coffin.  Not myself, not who I was a month ago, not the girl I can’t remember.  What you said made me think of it.  I – I understand you.  I’ve been—”  Your breath catches unexpectedly.  “I’ve been very alone for a long time.  I – I don’t think I noticed, somehow.  Not until Changbin was gone. Not until you were here.” 

The car gets a little darker as you leave the highway, streams of endless light replaced with the occasional streetlamp.  The darkness makes the honesty flow a little easier.

“Is that weird?” you ask, your own voice soft and unfamiliar to your ears.  “For it to hurt more after it already happened?”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” he says.  “Then again, I’m just as insane as you are.”

You almost choke on your laughter, so abrupt in the midst of seriousness.  He laughs too. 

“That’s true,” you tease.  “Why the hell am I asking you?” 

“Because you’re insane, remember?”  He makes a tsk sound, shaking his head, all playful.  “Wow, now she’s forgetting things that happened just a minute ago.” 

“You’re awful,” you say, but laugh nonetheless. 

“Seriously, though,” he says.  “I get it.  I get you.”   

There is a beat of silence as the conversation settles around you.  You breathe a little lighter.

Then Chan says, “Also, yeah, it is kinda hot to bang the boss’s daughter.”

“Bang Chan.”   You smack his chest again, a little harder, but he just giggles like a naughty schoolboy and swats your hand away.   “Seriously?”  Your voice breaks as you try and fail to restrain laughter.  “That comment?  After all that?” 

“Hey, don’t ask questions you don’t want answered, ya know?” 

“Bang the boss’s daughter,” you grumble with faux-irritation.  “You and Felix have that in common, you know.”

“Fucking you?!  Jesus, what the hell did I miss when I walked away?”  He looks at his bare wrist as if checking a watch.  “You weren’t there long.  He’s a bit quick off the mark, eh?”

You thump his stupid chest again while he chokes on his maniacal laughter. 

“Going after the boss’s daughter,” you clarify.

That breaks some of his giggles, face twisting up with his surprise.  His mouth opens and closes as he looks for words, mind going a mile a minute while he computes this revelation.  He finally says, “Wait… what?” 

“The ring on his finger?”

“Yeah but – the enemy’s daughter?  Felix?  And after giving me a hard time for going after you and oh my god, serves him fucking right, I really am going to kill that little—”

His threats sound a little more light-hearted, at least you think.  It is tinged with some truthfulness, but at least it’s all out in the open this time. 

“I’m trying to imagine that story,” you say, steering the conversation to the side.  “I can’t imagine us in that scenario.  I don’t think I would’ve been waltzing around with a mopey bodyguard in any world.”

“I wouldn’t be mopey.”  He amends, “I wouldn’t be that mopey.”  Then he thinks about it a moment longer, eyes on the road but mind farther away.  “Yeah, you’re too much of a fighter,” he says.  “I would’ve had my hands full trying to keep you on the sidelines.” 

“You wouldn’t have stood a chance.” 

You are teasing him but he does not retaliate.  He nods with utmost seriousness.    

“You’re right,” he says.  “I mean, look at everything they did to you, and you still chose to be you.  I think no matter what world we were in, you would find your way back into the fight, and I would follow you.” 

You know he fully believes every word or he would not say it.  You can’t find a decent answer.  You doubt there is one. 

“It kinda freaks me out,” you say.  You strum your fingers because your hands are getting clammy on the wheel. 

“Freaks you out?” Chan asks, looking at your hands then your face. 

“I’ve always been very… restrained.  At least as far as I can remember.  I don’t let people in.  With you—”  You look at each other across the car.  “It’s like I don’t have to try to let you in.  You’re already there.”  You look back at the road, releasing a shuddering breath.  “It makes it easy to feel things I usually wouldn’t, or to do things I usually wouldn’t do.” 

You think about that first clumsy kiss, how badly the need consumed you when you never cared about kissing before.  You think about everything you are feeling right now, looking at him, sprawled in the passenger seat. 

“I’m not used to trusting people this way,” you say. 

He puts a hand on your knee.  It is a comforting touch.

“It’s not quite a joke that I’m a little insane,” you continue.  “I’m in pieces up there.  I know that.  I also know that when we’re together, it feels—”

You cut yourself off.  There is no word to describe it. 

“Yeah,” he says anyway.  “It does.  I know.” 

The conversation reaches its soft conclusion just in time.  You have reached your destination. 

This city is a veritable concrete jungle.  You can only go so far off the beaten path, so this place is more of a hotel than a motel.  The building is configured in a towering horseshoe, wrapping around the small parking lot where you and Chan sit in a quiet car.   You stare up at the building, most windows dark with the late hour.  You have some time before dawn. 

“Are you tired?” you ask. 

His hand is still on your leg.  You sit very straight when it moves, gliding inward, curving around your inner thigh.  His gaze rests there until you look at him, then his eyes flick up to yours.  He holds the eye contact as his pinky brushes the fly of your uniform pants. 

“No,” he says.  “I’m not tired.  The opposite, really.” 

“Still feel like a fight?” you ask, voice a little breathier. 

“Maybe,” he says, dimple appearing with his smile.  “What did you have in mind?” 

-

You slam Chan onto his back in the middle of the training mat.  

The hotel has a small gym, though it is closed after hours.  The building has minimal security and no one on patrol.  It is easy enough to rework the security camera so it plays a loop of a previous ten-minute interval, making the room look empty to anyone who deigns to double-check.  It is on the underground level, below all the rooms, so it won’t wake anyone up.

Daylight is hours away.  You have plenty of time to tire out that relentless adrenaline.   

“Not bad,” Chan says, letting his head drop back.  He laughs which is not the usual response from an opponent on their back.  Of course, he is not a usual opponent and he never has been.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, grinning at you with far too much cheek.  Teasingly patronizing, he says, “Ya get in a little more practice, buddy, and you’ll almost be as good as me.” 

You shove him down again.  He goes without a fight, just a little oof, giggling as he lands on his back again.  You move from straddling his legs to hovering above his abdomen, knees planted on either side of him. 

“You’re holding back,” you say. 

“Yeah, ‘course I am,” he answers simply. 

There is a little tussle between your hands as he tries to grab your waist and you shoo at him.  He gets past in the end, gripping your hips and moving you like you are weightless.  Even your clenching muscles do little to stop him, a startled breath spilling out of your lips as he moves you a little lower.  Now his hips are between your thighs and it is easy for him to bring your body down while he rolls up. 

You are in your compression shirts and bulky combat pants.  It means his hands feel hot on your waist, the touch immediate through the thin material, but there is a substantial layer between your lower halves. 

You still feel him, half-hard since you dragged him out of the car with a sparkle in your eye.  You both know where this is heading, speaking in that silent conversation you mastered in just a few short days.  He just needs to smile a particular smile and something inside you sparks. 

You lean forward, planting your palms on the floor.   It puts a slope in your spine, his hands feeling the curve of your hips as his playful gaze darkens, shadowed in the concentration of his brow.  You bring yourself down just enough to touch, the material of your pants crinkling where you press together, but nonetheless feeling him against you as you slowly drag your body along his. 

“What if…” you say, your gazes locked, “I don’t hold back?”  

His eyes roam your face.  He puts his tongue in his cheek, looking thoughtful with the quirk of his eyebrow.   After a thoroughly studious moment, he meets your gaze again. 

“You’d be at a disadvantage,” he says.  “I’ve seen you fight without holding back.  I know all your tricks.” 

“What?  In the ring?” you ask.  “I wasn’t at full strength then.” 

“No,” he says, voice a little lower.  “Before that.  We’ve fought before.  I promise, you came at me with everything.” 

You can tell from his face that the memory is not so pleasant.   No, not at all.  Yet he is very preoccupied with the pleasure around him right now, the tantalizing taste of it, your body in his hands, your face so close to his.  You keep looking at his mouth and he keeps looking at yours. 

“Everything,” you say.  “I see.”  Your brush your nose against his and it is so sickeningly sweet that it shocks him more than a smack.  His eyes get wide and you get the upper hand, grabbing his wrists and pinning them beside his head.   “And did I win that fight?” you ask. 

His hips rear up.  With a sharp buck, he moves you, gets his hands free.  In a spin too fast to compute, and a flail of muscles you can’t hope to overpower, you end up on your back. 

Chan pins you down, hips still between your thighs, both your wrists clasped in one of his hands.   He pushes them above your head and holds them there, then he swoops down so his mouth floats just above yours. 

“What do you think?” he asks. 

“I think,” you say, remarkably coherent considering the proximity of his mouth, “that last time we truly fought, we probably didn’t have a choice.”  You wrap your legs around his waist and he lets go of your wrists.  You put your hands on his shoulders.  “This time, we do.  And this time—”  You snap up, knocking heads, startling him.  “I’m asking you not to hold back.” 

In his surprised distraction, you roll out from under him then spring to your feet. 

“This time, you have a choice,” you finish. 

He turns onto his back, sitting with one knee curled up to his chest, the other leg stretched in front of him.  It is a casual pose, looking to all the world like a normal young man for just a second as he sits and lounges and considers you. 

Then he stands.  He holds your gaze captive in his own, his eyes a slash of heated determination. 

“You sure that’s what you want?” he asks. 

“You know it is,” you say without hesitation.  “How many times do I have to tell you?” 

“All right,” he says, lip quirking into a half-smirk before he wipes his face to a stern neutrality.  “Let’s fight.”  

You circle each other, measuring, walking the perimeter of the square mat. 

“Don’t underestimate me,” you taunt.  “Believe me, bigger men have tried.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, shrugging one shoulder in a casual stretch.  “I watched you shoot your daddy off a roof.  It would be stupid to think like him, no?” 

You are not expecting him to take the bait so unflinchingly.  It makes your heart skip beats, adrenaline already spiking before the fight has even begun.   

Chan still looks nonchalant, like he is waiting for a conversation rather than an altercation. 

He is like you.  A part of him is always braced for a fight.  It’s never really over.  You can’t control it.

You can control this.   You can hand yourself over, willingly, safely, and for the first time he can let this scene play out the way he wants. 

He strikes first, anticipating you are too smart to make the first move.  His primary feints are predictable, the initial throws little more than empty threats.  He is not holding back on defense, effortlessly dodging your retaliation, but his offense is still restrained. 

You get him behind the knee.  Your arms lock and you swing around, footwork frantic in its quick shuffle across the mat.  You manage to get your hands around his neck as you sweep a leg out from under him.  He barely stops his descent, twisted at an awkward angle. 

“I told you,” you say, panting, your breath fluttering through his hair.  “I’m not scared of you.” 

“You should be,” he says. 

He pulls himself out of the vulnerable position with a degree of strength that only the First Guard could possess.  He turns you with a single-handed yank, then his whole arm is around your neck and your back is trapped against his front.   He drops onto his knees and takes you with him, letting you struggle to no avail in his one-armed hold.  His other hand comes up to your face with an almost tenderness, fingers brushing your forehead, knuckles sweeping your cheek. 

“But I know you’re not,” he says.  “You’re as crazy as me, right?”

He pushes forward, lays down with you pinned under him.  His arm is still around your neck, bicep at your throat, his hips rocking into yours with blatant suggestion.

His lips brush your ear.  It makes every part of you get tight with anticipation, even your eyes squeezing closed, your throat cloying, breath catching.

“You’re not like most people anymore,” he asks.  “Daddy’s girl prefers a monster, doesn’t she?”

His free hand works its way between your body and the mat, tugging at your pants with more dexterity than his brute strength would suggest.   He gets the waistband low on your hips, gets the zipper all the way down, and fits his hand inside.  

Your hips buck instinctively, at first away, then giving into his palm when he grinds it against you through your underthings. 

“Hmmph,” he says, a bit of a laugh, finding you wet through the fabric.  “That was easy, huh?” 

You do have a strategy, despite what he thinks, hoping to lure him into letting his guard down when he shifts focus. 

Unfortunately, that is easier said than done.  You are used to disregarding your body’s cries, but that is when it screams in pain.  As it turns out, pleasure is harder to ignore.  

When he touches you, even with a barrier in the way, it is like something primal speaks to something raw and needy inside you.  You see stars, either from his grip, the tightly pinned position, or the way it doesn’t even matter there is fabric between you and his fingers because it is so wet that it feels like he is touching you directly – and it feels so good that you want to bury your face in the mat and forget about everything else. 

“You’re not seriously trying to make me come,” you say, voice rough if not still taunting.  “How is that a plan?” 

“That’s not the plan,” he says, but he doesn’t stop rubbing torturous circles, doesn’t do anything when you shudder under him.  “The plan is to fuck you, right here, right now.”  He presses his hips into yours, makes sure you can feel the weight of his promise. “And I’m not stopping until all these little noises turn into you finally begging for my mercy.” 

“Oh,” you gasp, thoughtlessly, not thinking straight on the cusp of an orgasm. “Fuck.” 

“Say that one more time?”  he says.  “What do you want me to do?”

He kisses the back of your neck.  It’s worth a thousand words. 

“Fuck,” you say, though it comes out like a squeak.  All that pleasure crests with his kiss, chaste and short as it is.  You throb against his fingers, that aching desire lingering even after he takes his hand back. 

You just barely seize control of your faculties when he lets go, leaving you sprawled facedown so he can kneel behind you.  He has your pants worked partway down your backside when you manage to throw an elbow back.  True to your words, you don’t hold back, winding him long enough to work yourself free. 

You don’t get far.  You are back on your feet for only seconds before he is on you.  He lets you get a few jabs in, then his hand is around your throat and he is walking you backwards into the wall. 

Even so, he holds up a hand, cupping your head so it doesn’t hit the wall with any force. 

“You wanted to fight,” he says, keeping that grip on your throat as he turns you around, your palms and cheeks to the wall.  He drops his other hand, working your pants the rest of the way down your thighs.  “You lost,” he says.  “Now be a good girl, bend over and take it.  I know you can.” 

It is hard to think when he starts fucking you.  Your mind often drifted during sex, even good sex, thinking about the next act or even what you would be doing later.  Despite your life being even more complicated now, you can’t think about anything else when he is inside you. 

You can’t do anything about your mind, but your body is a different story, as it seems to open for him in a way you did not know was possible.  You don’t think anyone else ever held your throat so right, ever kept such a secure hold, ever felt so good draped over you while finding somewhere inside you that made your whole body sing. 

“Chan,” you whisper, voice already shot. 

“Mm,” is his grunt of a reply. 

His pants are unzipped, slung slow, but not as low as yours so the material is rough against your bare skin.  You feel hot.  I is a relief when his hands start to gather your tight shirt and lift. 

You let him, though it means he pulls out for a second, getting his balance as you adjust. 

You take the opportunity and get away, even though you are more than half-naked with your upper layers removed and your pants partially down.  You yank them back up, panting as you cross the room.

He laughs, tugging up his own pants again.  His tongue is basically hanging out of his mouth, but he is not short of breath.  He runs his hands through his hair as he crosses the mat, every inch of him confident and determined. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks. 

His swings are taunting, you realize, faking when he is going to grab you, making it impossible to tell when he will. 

“You think you can get away that easy?” he asks.

It breaks the scene a little, or maybe makes it better, but you smile just a bit.  It is genuine, but it doesn’t distract him for long.   You get one good punch before he is dragging you both to the ground again.  He puts you on your back with a breathless shove, straddles your waist and grips both your hands in one of his. 

“Ah-uh-uh,” he says, grabbing your jaw with the other hand.  It stops your squirming, his thumb circling your lips.  He taps your cheek with the suggestion of a slap, just enough your heart kicks faster even while everything else gets softer.  “That’s better,” he says.  “Very good.  I got you.  Who needs a daddy like that when you got me?”

“Jesus,” you say, with a small helpless laugh.  “I don’t think we have time to unpack all that.” 

He laughs too.  He halts himself by jabbing his tongue into his cheek while he shakes his head at you. 

“Oh, I’m just getting started,” he says.  It feels like his hands are everywhere, waking every nerve as he skims your waist and front.  He cups the curve of your chest, tormenting you, far too swiftly pushing all your most sensitive buttons.

You are squirming again, bucking under him while he moves his mouth over you, lips and teeth and tongue, marking his path.  He goes lower, then flips you in a quick manoeuvre, your clothes just as quickly lowered.  His mouth is on you from behind, then his fingers, so much of his hand, up on knee behind you with his arm flexing in each downward thrust. 

“You’re not even trying,” he says.  “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

You make a sound, halfway between a grunt and a moan.  Resisting him is not easy but it has nothing to do with his strength and everything to do with your resolve.  You want his hands and mouth and everything else, want to lay there like that while he takes you apart and puts you back together again.  You want to remove all your armour. 

He gets you off with his hand, works you open so thoroughly that when he lets go, you are left clenching and trembling with need for more.   He gets the rest of your clothes off, takes a second to remove his shirt.  In that second, you get on shaking legs. 

You already know you won’t get far.  Even when you throw your head back, knocking into his, you expect him to recalibrate faster.  He is behind you, shirtless and hot and hungry, his pants low, every muscle throbbing and aching with the same exertion as yours. 

“Not so fast,” he says.

He turns you to face him and picks you up like it’s nothing.  He lines you up with the precision of an unfaltering marksman and gets back inside you by bringing your body down onto his cock.  The swiftness and ungiving strength is a surprise in itself, a yelp squeaking its way past your lips as he fucks you in his arms, in the air, using nothing else for support.  

With no other leverage, you can only cling to him, just him, filling the space of this room with everything he is, filling all those empty places inside you and making you feel fully satisfied for the first time that you can remember. 

He gets on his knees after a bit, not so much from tired muscles as sheer desire, wanting you in a better position so he can really fuck you.  On your back then side then front, his arm across your shoulder blades as he holds you down and drives into you with all those pent-up feelings. 

His hand is on the nape of your neck when he comes, not pressing or squeezing, just holding you there.  He doesn’t hold back in the pursuit of pleasure, lets himself feel it all, makes a sound you want to always remember as he drapes himself over your back. 

The world is quiet in the comedown, just the sound of heavy breathing.  A little laughter when he kisses your neck.

You are not sure if your aches and pains are from the earlier confrontation or from that exchange, and that makes everything hurt less, subsumed in the memory of something better, those bad feelings strangled by the good. 

You get back to the room and shower.   You keep your hands off each other long enough to get clean, but no longer than that.  When you are back in the bed, supposedly to sleep, he is back on top of you and you are pulling him into you.  It’s different than downstairs, but also the same, you and him, whatever that means or will mean.   He says your name while he fucks you, slower and so deliberate with every breath and bite and kiss. 

He lets you roll him over, put him on his back, lets you sit on top of him and take control for precious moments.  He doesn’t last long like that, staring up at you, bare face screwed up with pleasure and desire.  His lips form the shape of your name even when he can’t find his voice anymore. 

“Please,” he finally speaks again.  You’re not sure what he’s really begging for, but you give him what you have and it must be enough for now.  

He sits upright before he comes, wraps his arms all the way around you and holds you tight while rocking up into you. 

“Please,” he says again, eyes closed, leaning his face into your hands when you run your fingers through his hair.  He is already sweating again, his face hot under your hands. You hold the back of his neck, keep him pressed against you, his face against your shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” you say on an exhale.  “I got you.”

A shiver moves down his spine.  He rears up hard, digs his fingers into you with a possessive need, and comes with your name on his lips. 

-

It is tempting to sleep through the day, but every second of every minute is imperative.  As each day passes, there are less hours until Changbin is potentially relocated or put through experimental testing far more grueling than what has so far been described.   An overslept morning could be the difference between finding your friend or not.

Despite a lingering soreness – not all of it strictly unpleasant – you climb out of bed to dress for the day.  Chan stirs when you do, like always, though he allows himself a moment of uncharacteristic lethargy.  He groans when you open the curtains and the sunlight slashes across his sleepy, squinting eyes. 

“Rise and shine,” you say.  “We have a lot of reading to do.”

The heavy research element of strategizing is hardly ever glamourized the way a good right cross can be.  That is probably fair.  It is far less exciting to sit around a table for hours, a pot of coffee between you, skimming line after line.  

“I want to go back over everything from before,” you say, to a bleary-eyed Chan who has only had a few sips of coffee and still looks like he has one foot in slumber.  He really looks so different when scrubbed clean, face so soft and open.  His curly hair is a bit of a mop, a messy tendril falling over his forehead as he leans down to look at some text.  His flannel is buttoned askew and you have to resist reaching out and fixing it. 

“Are we looking for something in particular?” he asks.  “You said Felix mentioned a prisoner.”

“Mm,” you say, already diving into research.  Some of it is physical paperwork that you pilfered but most of it is stored on your stolen tablets.   You rifle through papers and scroll at the same time. 

“And what is that?” he prompts.  He shoves a coffee cup at you for good measure. 

You sit straighter to take a sip. 

“Right,” you say.  “I just have this feeling in my gut.  I’ve had it since last night.  Really unsettled and uneasy.  It doesn’t feel like general anxiety or anticipation, not like bracing for a fight.  It feels like – it feels like it does when I remember things, small things, in confusing fragments.” 

He straightens at that.  You have not told him much about the dreams.  He knows that you have nightmares, obviously, as he is the one tending to you when you inevitably wake from them.  You have not spoken the details aloud, though.  Some of those images are horrendous.  Speaking them makes it tangible in a whole new horrifying way.  To compound it, articulating the jumbled fragments conjured by your subconscious is a trying endeavour, to say the very fucking least. 

“Just…”  You take a breath, shake your head.  “Just look for any mentions of a white room.”

“A white room?” he repeats.  “That might be a little vague, don’t you think?  Lots of labs and rooms are white and kinda sterile?”

You are not entirely sure if the picture in your head is a true memory or a fabrication, perhaps one exacerbated by some similar but buried recollection.  You just know that picture is vivid, terrifyingly evocative.  You can see it so clearly.  That room is beyond sterile; it is washed completely white.  It is a bone scraped clean.  Not a scrap of humanity clings to the surface. 

Your perspective revolves around the room.  You are in the middle of it.  No windows, no visible doors.  No way in or out.  It feels like absolutely nothing came before it, and nothing more could come after it.  It is the opposite the Cell which was a pitch black torture room.  Confined, endless in its depth.  This is huge and blinding white brightness.  It makes the dark feel like a comfort.   

You slip so far into that white expanse, you forget where you are.  For a second, you are there, like you never left.  It’s all you see.

“Whoa, whoa—” Chan’s voice yanks you firmly back to reality. 

You realize only then that you are tearing up, one lone tear escaping down your cheek.  You have no idea why you would be crying.  The pain does not come from somewhere you can pinpoint.  It’s a hollow ache, like an echo of someone else’s pain. 

Chan is poised to stand, tense where he sits across the table.  He looks at you with justified concern.

You wipe your tear quickly, shake your head and take command of your body again.  You sit straighter, shuffle some papers and clear your throat.

“The white room,” you say.  “Or any white room that stands out as peculiar.  Felix said a prisoner was there, presumably semi-recently because he was still shaken from it.  He described it as worse – worse than the holding cell at the military base.  It makes me think it could be something worth looking into.  If it’s worse than the usual holding cells, and if it required so much clearance that neither of us have heard of it, then it might be somewhere that Miroh held higher risk enemy prisoners.  Changbin fits that description.” 

Chan releases a breath of his own. 

“It’s a good enough lead for me,” he says.  “Better than the big fat nothing otherwise.” 

Though his words are confident, he still looks at you warily.  You don’t completely blame him.  You would be equally startled if he began crying for no seeming reason. 

“It’s fine,” you say, as reassuringly as possible. 

“You were crying,” he says, tone a bit dry.  

“I just…”  You shake your head.  “I just don’t want to make this about me right this second.  This is about Changbin.  It has to be about him.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, putting his hands up in surrender.  “White room.  Research.  Changbin.  Got it.” 

You get to work with minimal interruption after that, stopping only to get some food then continue. 

Before, you were looking for descriptions that fit Seo Changbin specifically.  Prisoner transport, asset delivery, any movement between bases and facilities.  Now you are just looking for a room, anything that matches the description.  From there, you analyze its recent activity to see if it fits the timeline. 

One mention seems to fit the bill.  The description of the white room is vague but the closest match so far.  The recent incident also matches the story that Felix gave you. It describes a prisoner who was recently held, some low level gangster who ran jobs for Miroh but tried to sell information to some competitors and was subsequently brought to heel.  Records show he was recently relocated.  He was removed from the white room because a higher priority asset needed storing.

The timeline works.  Changbin would be a priority above anything or anyone else, a unique soldier and the biggest danger to the operation.  It makes sense he would be a held in a bunker so secret that not even two top clearance agents like you and Chan would know about it. 

This went all the way up to Miroh. 

 “Definitely the best lead we’ve had in a while,” Chan says, scanning the document in front of him.  “Explains why there’s no trace of him at the places that would usually make sense.” 

“Yeah,” you say, an edge of frustration to your tone.  “The only problem is where the fuck is this place.” 

You can picture it in your mind, but it is just a blank room.  It could be in any building in any city. 

Even though you have tracked and traced every mention of this elusive room, its precise location has not been disclosed or even hinted in any document.  Its vague existence is referenced here and there, and even then only in the most classified briefings.  Wherever the intel is hiding, it’s even higher classification.  The kind of thing that Miroh would have overseen personally, like the First Guard’s operations. 

“This secret could’ve died with my father,” you say.   You picture his broken body in a heap at the base of a building with his name on it.  You picture Changbin in a similar heap and it makes your stomach turn. 

“There’s people keeping these logs,” Chan reasons.  “They’re clearly still working.  If we can figure out who they are, then maybe—”

“And how long is that gonna take without my father’s clearance?” you ask, letting that frustration burst out of you.  It feels like he is back, like he never really left, your father lurking around every corner and putting obstacles in your path.  Every step forward, he yanks you back.

You thought you ran off his map but maybe you have been confined in a single room this entire time. 

“We’re back to square one,” you say.  “He is the only one who had all the answers.” 

“It’s still a good start,” Chan says, trying to sound more comforting than argumentative. 

“What if we don’t get the information in time?” you ask.  “Or spend all this time chasing it and it isn’t even the right place?  Or it is the right place but he isn’t in it at all.  And then he gets moved anyway and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Chan says for the second time today.   

It has grown marginally easier to temper your most volatile emotions, corralling them like you would an animal.  It is still uncomfortable, this out of control feeling, watching that animal ran rampant with no clue how to truly tame it for good.  It is unpredictable at the best of times. 

“All right,” Chan says.

He goes to the sink at the little kitchenette while you prop your aching head in your hand.  He pours some water into a glass and brings it to you.  He kneels down, pats your knee consolingly while handing you the water. 

You take the glass, cool in your palm.  Your waking thoughts and half-reminiscences float in a swirling vision in the blaring expanse of your mind. 

You put the drink down. 

You have been skirting the edges of one report.  Since learning the reconfiguration was about you and not Chan, you have not really touched the files.  In some ways, you hardly need to revise them, as the evocative images are still so clear.  Some of that might be your own memories, peeling off the walls of your mind in broken scraps. 

You have not returned to the file.  Not until now.

You do what you should done when the instinct first struck.   There is a connection between you and this room and there is no use denying it.  Maybe you can use it for something good instead of just more hurt.

Chan looks at you with continued concern, still on one knee in front of you.  You skim the reconfiguration report, looking for the description of a white room, ignoring everything else. 

Unsurprisingly, you find it.  It is such an innocuous description, noted in the footnotes.  You would have skipped right past it when reading the first time.  It is the kind of thing anyone would skip over if they were not looking for it. 

It appears you were brought to the white room – which they call the downtime room – after the major reconfiguration tactics were administered.  It was used as a resting place, or a holding cell, or something.  Somewhere quiet and empty where you were left to rot, consciousness no doubt seeping out of your ears. 

You would have already been out of your mind.  The transport route would not have registered to you.

So you would be willing to bet they did not try to obfuscate or hide it from you.  Not in that state. 

“Maybe we do know someone,” you say, “who knows where the room is.” 

You look down at Chan, his eyes still full of concern.  It is shadowed with the crease of his brow, obvious confusion taking over his face. 

“Who?” he asks. 

Your heart is racing, and maybe breaking, because you don’t want to see that face filled with pain again.

“Me,” you say. 

It takes a second to land.  He blinks at you then shakes his head, smiles like he is laughing at himself for misunderstanding.  He looks up at you, hopefully.

“What do you mean?” he asks.  “You think you know where it is?” 

“In a way,” you say.  You glance at the text, finding it hard to hold his gaze.  “They brought me there when it was over.  According to the reconfiguration notes, I’ve been there a few times over the years, during the sessions where they, uh, fixed me again.” 

You try to laugh but nothing is funny anymore.  Chan slowly stands and your gaze lifts to him.  He doesn’t look away from you for a second. 

“I don’t really follow,” he says, but you think he does. 

“I think it’s in my buried memories,” you clarify, once and for all.  “If I can access them, maybe I can find out for sure.  Maybe we can find the room.  Maybe we can find Changbin.” 

“Okaaay…”  He finally turns away.  He paces a little, crosses the kitchenette.  He rakes his fingers through his messy hair.  “Okay,” he says again, does a little jump and shakes out his limbs like he is warming himself up for something intense.  He looks at you, finally.  “Um, look, not that I don’t want you to get your memories back, I mean – sure.  Great.  You know?  But, uh, how exactly do you intend to do that?” 

That is the crux of it.  That is why your stomach is turning over itself, your heart splitting.  That is why Chan is looking at you like that, braced for the absolute worst even though you haven’t said any of it out loud. 

“The report says that too much recollection at once can trigger a breakdown,” you start.

“Okay,” he interrupts.  “Breakdowns are not good, though.  You know that, right?  Like, I don’t have to explain how you having a massive breakdown would be a very bad thing?”

“Maybe,” you say.  “Maybe not.”

“M-maybe not?” he repeats, eyes wide.  He comes back to the table and sits down.  He grabs your hand that is loosely resting over the report.  “Baby,” he says.  “I told you before, hurting yourself won’t save him.”

“This is not the same thing,” you say, shaking your head.  You let him squeeze your hand again, a silent pleading in that mute conversation you exchange with your eyes. 

 You try to smile.  It still doesn’t come easily.  You wonder if it ever really did. 

“In my dreams, there’s a lot of cold water,” you say.  “I feel like I’m lost in a current, getting thrown every which way.  I see flashes of memories.  They don’t feel like me anymore, but I’m in the middle of them, like if I just reach out my hand I can grab them and put them back inside me.” 

You look at that cold glass of water.  You extract your hand from Chan’s grip and gently wrap your fingers around the glass.   

“I get them sometimes even when I’m not sleeping,” you continue.  “I know it’s all in there.  And I know it all started because of Changbin.  He smashed through that glass, Chan, and now it’s all pouring out and taking me with it.  I can’t just swim back and seal myself inside again.  Maybe the way out is through.” 

“What exactly do you want to do?” he asks. 

“I want to put my mind back there,” you say.  “I want to feel everything I have been running from.  All the bad.  All the anger.  All the fear.  I don’t know if it will work.  Maybe nothing will happen and I won’t remember a thing.  Maybe it will get worse and I’ll forget even more.”  He winces at that, his shoulders dropping.  You let go of the glass and touch him.  “But there’s a difference this time,” you say.  “I’m doing this by choice.  I’m doing this with you.   I trust you with everything that I am.”

“And what exactly,” he says even slower, “do you want me to do?”

“I can’t exactly drown myself,” you say. 

He gets quickly to his feet and turns away, rubbing his face.  You stand as well, your chair scraping across the hotel room floor. 

“Drown,” Chan says, seemingly talking to the air because he doesn’t look at you.  “Drown,” he repeats.  “You want me to – you want me to drown you.  Drown you?”

He spins around to face you, expression contorted with horror, hurt, and anger. 

“How can you—” he says.  “How can I—”

You step around the table and approach him slowly.  He doesn’t balk or push you away, though he is breathing heavily.  His skin is warm, even through his flannel when you lay a hand on his chest.  You guide him a little closer. 

“Like last night,” you say.  “It’s different, Chan.  It’s you.  It’s me.” 

“This is insane,” he says.  “What if it doesn’t work, like you said?  What if you get worse?  What if—”

“I’m not leaving him behind,” you say.  You picture Changbin on that roof, clasping your hand.  That scarred palm is resting on Chan now.  You turn it over and look at it, his eyes straying there too.  “I don’t know what happened before,” you say.  “I don’t know what will happen in the future.  But right now, my friend is sitting somewhere and he thinks he’s alone.  But he’s not.  I’m not.  You’re not.”  Your voice gets shaky.  Those tears come back, pouring from somewhere buried inside you, cold and rough as it comes out of you.  “This is my choice,” you say.  “I want to do this.  I’m not scared.” 

“I know,” he says.  He releases a breath and drops forward.  He wraps his arms around you and presses his forehead to yours.  “That’s why you terrify me.” 

You laugh through your tears, wrapping your arms around him too. 

“I’m insane,” you say.  “Might as well use it to our advantage.” 

“You’re lucky I’m insane too,” he says. 

He speaks with a lighter voice.  When you withdraw, his face screws up with sadness and he pulls you back. 

“Just – a little longer,” he says, cupping the back of your head and putting it on his shoulder.  You can’t see his face like that and you think that’s the point, knowing he’s crying just by the way his chest rises and falls.  “Just – just a second,” he says.  “Please.”

Oh, maybe that was his pleading last night.  Just a little longer. 

“Okay,” you say.  You hug him tightly.  The back of his stolen shirt crinkles in your hands.  You have nothing to your name, but you have each other, and you hold on tight for as long as you possibly can.    

-

You get ice from the hotel machine, bucket after bucket dumped in the bathtub.  Chan starts running cold water while you strip down to your underclothes and a t-shirt.  You sit on the bed, listening to the water in the other room, closing your eyes and fighting to recall all those fragments.  They are all sharp to the touch, jagged edges, truly like shattered glass.  If you touch the memory at the wrong angle, it makes you bleed with an agonizing pain. 

Your hands are already shaking.  You put them between your knees, trying to steady to them.  You look at the sunlight coming through the window.  You remind yourself this is not like those dank, dark rooms.  This is not Miroh.  Everything has changed. 

The water stops running.  Chan appears in the main room again.  He looks as wan and sick as you feel, but he nods resolutely, sharp as a salute. 

“Ready when you are,” he says. 

You stand and follow him into the bathroom.  The tub is filled to the brim with ice cold water.   It looks nothing like that dark and dirty well in the facility, but a chill moves down your spine nonetheless.  You see that well, remember peering down in the darkness.  It looked like it never ended.  You can see the bottom of the tub through the ice. 

Just like last night, you told Chan, reminding him of every chase and fight between you.  You put yourself very literally in his hands, just like you are doing now.  It was a recreation of real danger, just like now.  But it was safe, and you were fine, just like now, just like you will be. 

He drags the footstool from the chair in the main room, places it beside the tub.  He sits there, one hand swirling around in the water to get used to it.  You can see him shiver. 

You stand over him, looking down at the water, at his hand moving around and around.  He looks up at you. 

“You don’t have to do this,” he says. 

“I know,” you say.  You reach down and touch the water too.  It is so cold that it burns.  You are built to withstand extremities, so this will not have the same lasting damage that it would on a regular person, but that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt the same way. 

You straighten.  Your fingers tingle, dripping cold. 

“I’m going to try and fight you,” you remind him.  “It’s just instinct.  You have to keep me down there, take me right to the edge, as far as you possibly can, then bring me back up.   You have the timer ready?” 

He is going to push you to the limit, again and again, replicating the drowning torture in a hope it will tap into the part of your brain that correlates those memories with that feeling.  He is to do it within a certain timeframe or until you pass out, whichever happens first.  After that, you will take a few hours to recuperate.  If it doesn’t work, you will try one more time later tonight.  After that, you have to consider it a failure because he isn’t doing it a third time.  You agreed.    

He nods a bit too emphatically now, clearly wracked with nerves.  He stripped down to a sleeveless shirt so you wouldn’t be grabbing the flannel sleeve when you inevitably start to fight back.  It will be the body’s response to attempted drowning.  It’s why you can’t do this to yourself.  It’s why no one else could possibly do it to you, because you would overpower them. 

Besides, there is no one you trust like Chan.  You put a hand on his shoulder and remind him of that fact. 

“I trust you,” you say.  “Whatever happens—”

“Don’t say goodbye to me,” he says, his eyes lowered, gaze far away. 

He doesn’t raise his voice.  He doesn’t have to.  You are utterly rapt, looking down at him, at where he wanders deep into his thoughts.  He pulls himself out eventually and lifts his head, gazes up at you. 

“You said goodbye once before,” he says.  “You’re not doing it again.  You’re going to come back to me, okay?  In – in any condition.”  He sucks in several jagged breaths as he visibly tears up, words escaping on a gasping stutter.  “I – I – I don’t care if you never get better, yeah?” he says.  “I don’t care if we’re messy and dealing with this for the rest of our lives.  Just come back to me, okay?  Just – just promise you’ll come back.”  

You pull him against you, let him bury his face against your middle while he breathes hard.  He holds you for another long moment then composes himself, surfacing with a deep, heaving breath.   He shakes his head then nods towards the tub. 

“All right,” he says.  “I got you.  Always.” 

“I know,” you say.  You touch his face, tilt it up to look at you.  “Thank you, Chan.  Chris.  Everyone you are.  For everything you’ve done.” 

“You know, you’re actually the only one who refused to call me Chris,” he says, laughing through his tears.  “I think you just did it to annoy me.”

“I am pretty annoying,” you say, gesturing the tub. 

“Definitely not the time for jokes,” he says, but laughs a little anyway. 

You pat his cheek, give him one last watery smile, then you step into the tub. 

Even that first descent is a mind-numbing shock.  Inch by inch you submerse yourself, feeling like you are sinking into a tub filled with all those sharp, jagged edges of glass.   You look down, panicking for half a second because the water is swirling red and pink.  It makes no sense but you must be literally bleeding.

Then the image splinters and you realize you are not bleeding, not now.  You are remembering a different motel tub – your blood swirling in a pool at your feet moments before Chan walked in and scooped you up, carrying you to safety.

He is still here now.  He says your name.  He says, “Easy.  You’re okay.  You’re safe, all right?” 

You nod, closing your eyes.  You listen to his voice.  Maybe it is the sound, or maybe the physical pain, but a rush of tears are already rising to your eyes.  They stab as ferociously, pouring down your face.  It feels so hot compared to the water of the tub, almost like a stream of blood. 

“It’s okay,” Chan is saying.  “I’m going to grab you now, okay?” 

You nod, eyes still screwed shut.  His hand comes around your neck, just a gentle grip at first, letting you get used to it.  You have felt that touch a few times now.  It sends a familiar spark of heat shooting through you.  You remember your name on his gasping lips, remember his mouth open on yours.  You remember that dream of a kiss, warmer, hotter, more loving than anything you had ever encountered before.  Your first real kiss.  You see it for a moment, see him, younger, looking at you with hopeful anticipation as your eyes flutter open. 

“Chan,” you say. 

“It’s me,” he says, tightening his grip on your neck.  “I got you.  I’m right here.  I’ll count you in, then it’s up to you.  But I have you, all right?  You’re safe.” 

Your eyes are closed, but you still see him, young and smiling softly.  His hand is on your face, warm where your tears fall. 

“Three,” he says.  “Two.  One.” 

-

It crashes over your head, a torrent of freezing water.  You scream in the darkness, flailing desperately, but the well is narrow and you only succeed in bruising yourself when you try to splay your limbs out. 

The darkness is not a void, not pure pitch, but cast with a pearly, luminescent sheen.  It starts to swirl into a dizzying mess the longer you are down there.  Then it starts to fade, true darkness creeping in at the corners. 

You are yanked out abruptly.  There is light, hot and sickly yellow, burning on your ice cold skin. 

“Stop,” Chan is saying, crying, a blubbering mess that makes him sounds ten years younger.  He is already young.  He’s barely past eighteen.  “Please,” he says.  “This is my fault, don’t—”

You open your eyes to look at him.  It feels like peeling skin off iced metal, your eyelids fighting every inch of the way.  But you manage, barely, looking at him through the water dripping off your forehead.  

He is prostrate on the floor, completely horizontal, a short chain around his neck clipped to a hook on the ground.  He can’t even turn his head.  He can only stare ahead at you, staring back at him.   

There is something around your neck too.  It keeps you in a strangled state even though you are out of the water.  The vice tightens when you aren’t floating, so you don’t really get a proper breath of air.  In fact, you’re not sure if it’s worse in or out of the water.   

You don’t have much time to think about it, because you are plunged back in, the sound of his shouting disappearing in the blurring whirl of bubbling water. 

You are yanked back out, and you are grown, in a hotel bathtub, gasping and clawing at the feeling around your neck.  You get a breath, only just, then you are back underwater. 

You see Chan again, grown, in that hotel gym last night.  You feel him, hot and heavy, holding you tight against his body.  You roll out from under him, jump to your feet.  He laughs and smiles, you smile back, and you run at each other.  You raise your fist to throw a punch you know he can deflect—

Except he doesn’t.  The punch lands and it lands hard.  He falls onto his back and there is no training mat to soften the impact.  He smashes down onto a concrete floor and you just watch.  There is a sickening crack, and it objectively grosses you out, watching him cry out in pain.  But you don’t feel anything, do you?  No.  You just know you have to fight him.  You just know he is everything that is causing you pain.  You hate him, you hate him, you hate him.  He’s the reason you’re here.  He’s the reason everything feels like ice. 

“Stop,” he says, pushing himself up despite the blood slipping down his face.  It isn’t the first hit.  You’ve already broken his nose.  You’re not sure if his face is red because of you or because he won’t stop crying, as if this isn’t all his fault.  “You don’t want to do this,” he says.  “You don’t want to hurt me.  You don’t, you can’t—”

You run at him again and he finally defends himself.  He doesn’t attack, but he blocks shot after shot, letting you move around the fighting space.  It looks like a cage, or a prison.  Someone is watching on the other side.

“With a daddy like that—” Chan teases, and you laugh on the hotel mat.

You don’t land on a mat.  You land on the floor when Chan sweeps too hard and knocks you down.  He panics, immediately drops down beside you to check that you are all right.  You slam your fist between his eyes. 

“She’ll kill you if I ask,” your father says, circling the iron bars, watching Chan as he backs up like he is watching a wild animal.  You might as well be, running on pure instinct, watching with predatory eyes as he backs right up to the bars. 

Your father stands behind him. 

“You will, won’t you?” Miroh asks you.  “If I put you on a mission right now.  You’d do exactly what I say.  You’d even hurt him.” 

“This isn’t you,” Chan says, ignoring him, looking at you, though nothing is gazing back.  He says your name and it might as well be a made-up word for all that it is meaningless. 

You’re Miroh’s daughter.  Nothing else matters. 

“I’d fight back if I were you,” Miroh says, patting Chan on the head before simply striding away.  Over his shoulder, he says, “It’s you or her.  The choice is yours.” 

You run straight at Chan.  His eyes get wide and he throws his hand out to stop you. 

It catches you around the neck and you are drawn out of the water.  Hot yellow lights, hotel gold, then back under again. 

You are swinging back, throwing a punch, but you’re not fighting Chan.  It’s someone in a mask, his face fully covered.  You push and kick and punch, going around and around in circles, a perfect match like you were built exactly the same way by exactly the same person. 

Felix takes off the mask and disappears over the balcony railing.  You chase him and he swings back up, kicking off your mask.  It clatters across the metal walkway.  You tackle him and you both fall off the balcony edge. 

You land on your back.  Felix is on top of you, reeling back his arm.  You dodge the punch, rolling out from under him.  You are both younger, both in the black uniform of Miroh. 

“Why are you doing this?” you ask.  “Felix, it didn’t have to be this way.  I could’ve helped you.  I’m on your side.” 

“I can’t afford sides,” he says, shaking his head rapidly.  “I need to get out of here.  Chris needs to get out of here.  If you care about him—”

“You don’t know the first thing about that,” you snap. 

Your emotions make you clumsy.  Felix easily catches your flying fist and twists it around.  Your whole body follows, then the ground is rushing up to meet you. 

There is blackness all around you, whether your eyes are opened or closed.  You jump when a hand reaches through the dark.  You reach out too, trace your fingers over a familiar brow, down a cheek, his jaw, his neck.

“Chan?” you say. 

“I’m here,” he says, wiping your tears, comforting you.  “I’m always here.  I’ve got you.  It’s okay.” 

Then his hand is gone.  His face disappears.  You swing your hand through the shadows and scream his name but he isn’t there anymore. 

You’re completely alone in the darkness.

An earth-shattering eruption shudders all around you, blowing through the black with a burst of grey fog.  When it settles, you are in a warehouse, the wooden ceiling partially obliterated from the explosion.  You are trapped under rubble, only alive because you managed to fall in a slight dip so the concrete block across your body is not fully crushing you.

It will, though.  You can’t breathe.  Your chest is being compressed and you are dizzy, your ears ringing, and you can’t hope to budge the concrete block at this vantage.  Even though you are stronger than other normal eighteen year olds, you are not fully superhuman.  Maybe Chan could move it, but Chan is gone.  Your father’s men grabbed him.  That was the last thing you saw before the explosion. 

Maybe he’s getting away, you think.  Maybe they’re all getting away. 

Even while dreaming it, you know it isn’t true.  It was stupid to think you could take on your father.  The inevitable reckoning found you.  It’s all over.  You didn’t save anyone.  Not even yourself.  You’re going to die like you lived, trapped under the rubble of your father’s fortune, all alone in quiet pain. 

“Hey!”

You hear a voice at a distance.  It only just barely pierces the ringing in your ears so you aren’t sure how close it really is. 

“It’s me,” the voice says.  “I’m coming!”   

You can’t keep your eyes open.  You can’t breathe like this and your body is getting colder and colder.  You feel a presence even though you can’t see who it is, your eyes too heavy, the block on your chest heavier and heavier still.

“Wake up,” says the voice.  “Hey, wake up.  Please.  Please wake up.”

It feels almost impossible, like pushing that weight off your chest, but you peel your eyes open slowly.  There is dust in your eyes and in the air, the grey smoke of the explosion still puffing around you.  Your eyes water to clear the worst of it. 

Through the dust, smoke, and tears, you see Changbin, all his sharp, young features, swallowed up in his black uniform.  The blast must have shot some debris his way because he’s bleeding, a thin streak of blood on his forehead, a line of red spilling down his cheek. 

He ignores it completely, leaning down, tapping your cheek some more. 

“It’s me,” he says.  “Hold on.  Keep your eyes open.  Don’t go.  I promise I’ll get you out.” 

“Changbin,” you croak.  You watch as he sits back, frantically measuring the concrete block with his darting eyes.  When he grabs a corner, you rapidly shake your head.  “Stop,” you say.  “Stop, you can’t move it.” 

“I can,” he says.  He tries to laugh, somehow manages to joke at a time like this and says, “I’m the strongest and best looking one here, princess.  Don’t insult me.” 

“Changbin, it’s too heavy,” you say.  The force of it is bearing down on you more and more, all your father’s greedy hopes shoving you further and further into the ground. 

It’s going to kill you.  It was always going to kill you. 

But it doesn’t have to kill him.

“Changbin, go,” you say.

He is leaning against the block, lining up like he intends to shove the whole thing with his shoulder.  His head whips down to look at you, his face twisted up with disgust.

“No,” he says firmly. 

“Changbin,” you say just as firmly, because the block doesn’t budge.  It was never going to budge.  “Changbin, look.”  You nod towards a light where the explosion ripped through the wall, where the enemy’s men came pouring in and ran right past you.  “You can go,” you say.  “For good.  It’s a way out.  They’ll just think you’re dead.  They’ll leave you behind, that’s the rule, that’s what they do.  You can get away.  Just leave me.  It’s fine.  This is your only chance. Go.  Go now.”

He pauses for a second.  He looks over his shoulder at where Miroh’s men are still scrambling, then he looks towards that light.  He knows you’re right.  He knows that if he gets up now and runs, they won’t catch him.  They’ll leave him for dead.  He can get away once and for all.

He stares towards that light for a long moment.  Then he looks down at you.  He changes position, wraps an arm over the block and puts his weight against the side. 

“No,” he says again.  “I’m not leaving here without you.” 

He pushes the block.  It scrapes the ground, pushes you a little deeper.  For a second, it hurts so much worse, then he gets his shoulder under it and takes the brunt of the weight.  With another grunting heave, he straightens out and shoves it off you completely.  It makes a horrible screeching sound as it moves across the floor, but you’re free. 

You can breathe all at once, sucking in a huge lungful of air.  Changbin leans over you, gathers you up into his arms and pulls you into a sitting position. 

“You’re so stupid,” you say, choking on a sob.  “I hate you.”   

“I know,” he says, wiping the tears and dust off your face.  “Love you too.” 

“Stand back, soldier,” one of your father’s men appears, stepping out of the smoke like a monster.   He multiplies, more of your father’s back-up arriving one by one.  They circle you and Changbin. 

You nod at your friend.  There is no winning this fight.  Not today.  Not like this. 

Relenting, Changbin steps back.  One of the men grab him and push him to the side, redirecting him away.  He is promptly forgotten in his supposed insignificance. The rest of them keep a circle around you.

Your father crosses through that circle.  He looks down at you.  You remember seeing emotion in his eyes, once, enough that he could be furious, enough that he could be hateful.  Now there is nothing.  He looks at you like he would look at a pebble in his shoe.  Disappointing but mostly inconvenient. 

“Take her,” he says. 

Someone grabs you by the neck.  You are pulled to your feet, faster, higher.  You get a glimpse of Chan behind your father, face beaten bloody, limp body held up by another guard. 

“Chan!”  You try and move towards him but the grip on your neck tightens. 

You can’t scream in the circle of that vice.   Whatever sound you want to make disappears in the ice as you are plunged back under water.  You open your eyes in the cold, look through the darkness until there is light, until everything is whiteness all around you.  No windows, no doors.  Beyond sterile.  Cold.  Empty.  Nothing before or after.    

Then you are pulled back up.  You realize the white walls were the sides of the hotel bathtub.  You suck in a desperate, shuddering gasp of a breath.  It goes right down to the depth of your lungs, pulls you up from the inside out. 

Chan says your name. 

You open your eyes and see hotel bathtub faucet.  Chan’s hands are on your arms rather than your neck as he hoists you out of the water.  Like that first night, he bundles you in a towel.  He says your name again, touches the side of your cold and clammy face. 

It takes you a minute to find his face, his real face, living and warm and right now.   

He stares down at you with his familiar dark eyes, breathing hard like he was the one exerting himself. 

“You were right,” you say in a hoarse voice.  Despite everything, a laugh bursts out of you.  It hurts, it hurts like burning ice, but then it feels so much better. 

“About what?” he asks. 

“I did always call you Chan,” you say. 

Then you collapse in his arms, your eyes closing.  A torrent of memories come flooding back. 

[agoodfictitle-shadowban]

Sweet Summer | Pt. 2

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader

Summary: The Xavier Institude is being renovated for the summer. With nowhere else to go, your best friends Billy and Tommy offer you to stay with them and their mom. But what happens when feelings start to spark between the two of you?

Word Count: 6.3k

Warnings: Underage Drinking, Smut (Minors do not interact), Age Gap (20yo reader, 37yo Wanda)

Tags: mutant!Reader (shadow manipulation), different timeline, everyone is alive (except Pietro, sorry Pietro), no Sokovia Accords, no Thanos, Wanda was young when she joined the Avengers, retired Natasha, top!Reader, bottom!Wanda, but they switch a bit, Vision is a bit of an asshole, divorced!Wanda, mainly cutesy, bit of angst tho

A/n: i'm bad at smut but i hope you still enjoy it

"What was I thinking?" Wanda bemoaned, face in her hands. She was sitting in the living room of her best friend Natasha, complaining to her a few days later. The retired redhead was listening with a neutral expression, drinking her morning coffee. "She's Billy and Tommy's best friend! She's twenty!"

Natasha sipped on her coffee some more. "Truly I wonder," she deadpanned.

"You're not helping!" Wanda was at the edge of a breakdown after what happened, and disappeared to work the past few days in order to avoid you. But no matter what she did, her thoughts brought her back to you, to your smile, your voice, your kind words. She wanted to know more about you, in every way, her body mesmerized by your presence and her mind enthralled by your words.

"I know, but I doubt there is much I could do to help," she said patiently. She put down her cup of coffee and rested her hands on the tabletop flatly. "From what you tell me, you really like her. Which isn't a crime as far as I'm concerned."

"But what about–"

"Doesn't really matter, does it? You deserve happiness, and your boys would agree. So what if it's with Y/n?"

"It would feel wrong." She finally dared to look in her friend's eyes. There was no judgment there, but it was still hard to do.

"Or really right, considering how attracted to her you are. Do you want my honest opinion?"

"Go ahead," she said with suspicion in her eyes.

"I think you're afraid because you were her age when you started dating Vision, so you think it's gonna end the same way. With her thinking it was all a mistake, and you sad and lonely. Well, more than you are today."

"Geez, thanks Natasha," she said with as much sarcasm she could manage.

"Let me finish," she ordered and Wanda reluctantly complied. "Your fear is understandable, but also stupid. She's not you, and you're not Vision. And if you have a shot at happiness, you should take it."

Wanda didn't know what to say at this point. Luckily, Maria entered the apartment after her morning run. She kissed Natasha and the conversation changed direction as Wanda wanted to keep her relation to you a secret for now. But the words from her best friend kept coming back to her throughout the day.

*

The night of the party finally arrived, and with it the pressure to find a proper attire. You had figured out what you wanted to wear, but you also wanted a jacket to go with it. Sadly you were rather limited, and you had to go take a shower before one of the twins stole the washroom from you to finish prepping. When you came back out, clothes already on, there was a bag on your bed with a piece of paper. It read "Thank you for the discussion the other night". Inside the bag was the leather jacket from the store you went to the other day. You were speechless, mouth hanging open. Wanda had been avoiding you the past few days so you absolutely didn't expect anything from her, trying to move on from whatever feelings you had, but this… How she knew about it, you had no idea, but you weren't complaining.

You immediately tried it on, looking at yourself in the mirror. It fit perfectly. You turned around to peek at the back and jumped like a scared cat when you saw Wanda standing in the doorway, almost toppling over the mirror. She helped keep you standing with her powers and slowly released you.

"I didn't mean to scare you. Are you alright?" She asked with concern in her voice. She looked incredible at this instant, as she always did, with her doe eyes focused on you. She was wearing dark gray sweatpants, and a signature red hoodie with her hair in a low, kind of messy, ponytail.

"Yeah, I think so." You looked yourself over and then up at her. "Thank you. For catching me. And for the jacket."

"I saw the way you looked at it in the store," she said with a small, conniving smile. Then she looked away, playing with the hem of her sleeves and biting her lower lip as if looking for some courage. "Could we maybe talk?"

"I…" Should you? Probably not, but at the same time, your heart wanted nothing more than to talk to her. You pinched your lips. No. No matter how good she looked, and how mesmerizing her shyness was, it was a bad idea. But you had to let her down gently. "Maybe we–"

"Y/n! Are you ready?" A very excited Tommy appeared behind his mom in a blur, and you let out a sigh. The young man had been like that the whole day, starting in the late morning. "Billy is waiting on us."

Wanda hid her disappointment, but not enough for you to miss it. You quickly redirected your attention to your friend and grabbed whatever was needed. "I'm ready."

At least it would give you some time to think of something to tell Wanda. You followed Tommy who gave a hug to the witch and left to get to the car. Before you disappeared through the door, you couldn't help but get one more look at her.

The party was what you'd expect it would be. There was a ton of alcohol, some games going on, loud music, and half the people were enjoying the pool or talking in groups. The first thing you did with the twins was grab some drinks - alcohol for you and Tommy, soft for Billy who was driving you back - and join a group. Within the group there were some people you knew and some you didn't but it quickly dissolved into smaller groups. You ended up talking with a newly met Kate Bishop and Yelena Belova, who were both living in New York and came here to visit family. Kate was actually going to join Columbia this year just like you - except she was a few years ahead of you. You got along really well as you exchanged more. You ended up talking about what majors and minors you were going to attend, before Yelena let out a "Boriiiiing" and you changed the subject to something else. It quickly devolved into a knife throwing contest between the three of you that Yelena won.

Everything was going swimmingly - you played Kate in a beer pong game that you lost, enjoyed some time in the pool with her and some other people. But despite the fun, you couldn't help but think of Wanda. You would see her in a smile, or in the green of a leaf, in the inflection of a word, the smell of someone, the warmth from the alcohol, the curve of a waist, and so many more places. It was a curse, one you rried to forget with alcohol.

As for the twins, Tommy at this point was nowhere to be found, which meant he probably was with a girl, and Billy was playing video games with some people who were more relaxed now that it was starting to be late. 

As you were drying on the side of the pool, head buzzing nicely with intoxication, you eavesdropped on a nearby conversation.

"Now, see, Enhanced Individuals totally need to be controlled in some way. By the governments or something," a girl said, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at that.

"What are you on about?" Someone asked. "They might be freaks but they're no more dangerous than someone with a rifle."

"No, no, no! Like, think about it, they're the only ones who can become super-villains, so if we can track them or something, they can't be dangerous anymore."

Holding your drink in one hand, you stood up and splashed it in the face of the girl and his friend. She screamed bloody murder, and he just looked flabbergasted.

"Assholes," you spat.

"What is wrong with you?!" The guy finally asked while everyone was watching before finally going back to partying. You put back your clothes on; you didn't feel like partying anymore. 

"Are you okay?" Kate asked as you stumbled because of the alcohol. "Hey, easy there. Let me help you."

"I want to go home," you mumbled with darkened eyes.

"Okay, let's find your friends." You shook your head at that and took a few steps forward.

"No, they're having fun. I can like… walk home or something."

"Walk ho– okay, no, you're definitely too drunk for that. I'll drive you, let me just get my stuff while you let your friends know."

You didn't really have time to protest. Looking around, you decided to simply do what she told you and you went to find Billy, knowing Tommy was likely busy. Your knees hit the couch where he was sitting and you got his attention.

"Hey man, I'm going home. Kate is driving me."

"Are you okay?" He frowned with concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Yeah. I'll just see you tomorrow." You gave him a pat on the shoulder and he agreed to let you go. You went back to Kate who had put on a light jacket. You put your own on quickly, before you followed Kate to her car.

During the time it took to arrive back at the house, the silence in the car had stretched out. You were still drunk and yet you still felt uncomfortable. At least there was some music to help with the lack of conversation and how fidgety Kate was. Finally, when you arrived, she pulled in front of the pathway leading up to the house.

"You have my number, if you need anything…" she started.

"I'll text you," you finished. You offered her a smile and just as you were about to leave the car, she leaned in and kissed you briefly. Usually, you would have jumped on the occasion. Kate was a beautiful and clever woman. But this wasn't usually. So you didn't return it, didn't even react to it really, just looked blankly at her, and it seemed to be enough to get a message across.

"Oh, wow. I'm sorry, I thought, I don't know–"

"Don't. Let's just forget about it," you told her mercifully, finally exiting the car.

You were quick to make your way back to the door, stumbling a little on the way, and when you finally pushed it, you were confronted with a waiting Wanda. She was still wearing the same clothes as earlier, but this time her jaw was locked, her brow knitted on her forehead, and she had her arms crossed. The apparent hostility confused you and you slowly closed the door behind you, the faint sound of Kate's departing car the only noise in the house. You could hear a pin drop when that was gone.

"You had fun I see," she attacked first, leaving you eager to defend yourself, the alcohol leaving you susceptible to your emotions

"Yes, clearly, that's why I'm back early," you said sarcastically. There was something different about her right now, in the way she acted, the way she looked at you. She retreated her head in her shoulders, as if she was getting ready to be hit with something.

"Well, why are you here early?" Her eyes were sharp, but yours were just as much despite the alcohol in your veins. What happened for her to act like that suddenly? Then it hit you. You quickly regretted your returned aggressivity when it dawned on you. She was hurt. Her bravado was just a way to hide it. You had to find a way to diffuse the situation, but your idle mind had trouble processing everything.

"There was a bunch of assholes and just… listen, it doesn't really matter." She soften slightly at that, but she was still in her defensive position. You took a step towards her and she took a step back.

"It matters to me. What you do, how you feel, who you kiss… It all matters to me," she confessed, suddenly avoiding your gaze. "So if you've just been playing around, I need to know." And that's when you put the puzzle together. She must have seen Kate kiss you. Must have come to the window when she heard the car and seen everything without any context or clues about how you felt. You ran your hand through your hair.

"Wanda, I…" You took the time to look at her. Truly look at her. She was so vulnerable right now, you felt like you had her in the palm of your hand. You knew you technically had no reason to justify yourself, but your gut were turning at the idea of leaving her in this state.

"You don't need to say anything, you made it pretty clear how you felt," she marched on, still looking away, as you didn't know what to say. Your heart revolted at the idea that she could even think you didn't like her. You took a step forward. "You must be weirded out." Another step. Your mind was reeling, reminding you why this was such a bad idea, but you could barely hear it over the sounds of the blood hammering away in your ears. "I'd understand if–"

You reached for her face with both hands and kissed her. It was a short lived rush, but it felt so right. It completely derailed Wanda's train of thought, even now that the kiss was over, and for a second she tried to reattach the wagons.

"If… I'd understand…" She tilted her head to the side and tried to read you without going into your thoughts, her brows furrowing. "What am I understanding?"

You chuckled, and she joined, both of you leaning forward to join your foreheads. Slowly, your thumb rubbed her rosy cheek.

"You're understanding that I like you, a lot."

Wanda bit her lip, hesitation on her face. She was clearly still thinking about what happened in the car. And if she needed to ask about it, you certainly knew how to appease her fears.

"What about the girl in the car?" She finally bit the bullet and asked, her hands finding your shoulders to play with your jacket nervously.

"It was all her, I never wanted that kiss. But I sure want this one," and you kissed her lips once again, briefly, "and this one," and one more. You took your time for this one, tasting her cherry lips against yours. It already felt amazing, but feeling her reciprocate the kiss made it heavenly. Tentatively, you bit her lower lip and pressed the tip of your tongue against it in a clear message to ask for more. She opened the way and you slipped your tongue against hers, starting to play alongside her as the warmth of the kiss traveled down your body to your core. Slowly, the kiss got more heated, your breath unraveling and your heart beating faster and faster. At this point you were certain she was able to feel it against her palms. You pushed her against the wall and moved one hand to her waist to bring her closer to you, your pinky playing with the hem of her hoodie. The heat was unraveling you and you wanted nothing more than to follow it but gently Wanda interrupted the kiss. Her pupils were wide open and traced the contours of your face and of your lips before they finally focused on your eyes.

"Wait, wait. We're in the middle of the hallway, we can't just do that here." Well, you could, but it certainly would be risky. You smirked.

"Averse to a little adventure?" You teased her. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, leaving the embrace of yours. You noticed how red she was right before she turned her back on you. When she finally looked at you again only her cheeks remained pink.

"Averse to having my sons walk in on me with their best friend." You pursed your lips. Of course she had a point, and you nodded. You closed the small distance between you too and took her hands in yours.

"Okay. Why don't we take this somewhere more private then?" You offered her a grin, then moved your eyebrows up and down. It managed to make her laugh, but she shook her head.

"As tempting as it is, it's too risky right now."

As if to prove her right, you heard a car pulling in the driveway. You pouted, but still agreed with her. You already broke your own words by kissing Wanda, there was no need for Tommy and Billy to find out about it.

"Alright but we're gonna have to make it up at some point," you negotiated and she gave you a shy smile. You vaguely wondered when was the last time Wanda actually got to be intimate and if that was part of why she interrupted the upcoming activity.

She took a step back when the twins came through the door and you looked at them. You immediately noticed Tommy's bruised hand and you frowned.

"What did you do?" You asked, taking a closer look at it while Wanda's eyes opened big and she took his hand in her to examine it.

"Might have punched some assholes," he admitted with a proud grin. "When I came back downstairs I heard what happened and why you left, and that guy was mouthing off about you, so I gave him a lesson."

"You didn't have to…" you started, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Wanda brought him to the kitchen where she kept a first aid kit, everyone trailing behind. She grabbed the instant cold pack and twisted it so it would start cooling, then she applied it on his fist after putting it in a towel.

"Thanks mom," he said, still smiling. She frowned and assumed her mom posture, putting her hands on her hips.

"Don't thank me, you're still grounded for a week."

Tommy cringed at that, but he didn't protest, moving to a dining room chair to sit down.

"Alright, now that this is resolved, I'm going to bed," Billy yawned.

"You're abandoning me like that?" A very dramatic Tommy asked.

"Yeah, cause I told you not to fight this guy, and I'm tired. Plus you have mom and Y/n taking care of you, you'll be fine."

Billy left, and you sat next to Tommy. He was lucky nothing was broken, and even luckier he only got grounded by his mom. You bumped shoulders with him.

"Next time, remember I can defend myself," you told him.

"Is that how people say thank you now?" He rolled his eyes and you laughed lightly. You knew you shouldn't encourage him, but he did deserve it.

"Thank you."

He beamed at you, just as Wanda was walking back in. She hugged her son sideways and kissed the top of his head.

"Time for you to go to bed," she ordered and without much complaints the young man gave a kiss on the cheek of his mother and went upstairs. The witch sat down where her son had been moments ago and leaned against you, resting her head on your shoulder. You mimicked her and rested your head on top of hers, your hand finding hers to take.

"What a day," you expressed with a sigh.

"What a day," she returned to you. "But mostly a good one, I hope?"

You grinned and leaned down to give her a kiss. "A great one." You kissed her some more, lingering on the taste of her lips, on your breath mingling together, and on her body pressed against yours.

"We should also get some sleep," she ended up murmuring to you after a few minutes. For the first time since you arrived home, you finally felt the weight of the day on you.

"But what if I want to enjoy your company longer?"

She rolled her eyes but her sweet smile contradicted the faux exasperation. It made you laugh silently.

"I'll still be there tomorrow. Now come on, off to bed we go."

With that, she stood up and helped you do the same, an occasion you took to steal another few kisses before she came back to her senses and led you up the stairs. You exchanged some more kisses in front of her bedroom as discreetly as possible before you finally said your goodbyes for the night.

*

The next two weeks were more of the same. With Tommy and Billy always around, you barely had any time alone with Wanda. You would sneak around at night, enjoying the balcony or one or the other's bedroom to make out. It felt like you were back at the Institute where you had to be discreet with your various girlfriends to not get caught by the teachers, which felt weird to do behind the backs of the twins who had often helped you at the time - the same way you would help them sneak around. The situation was rather complicated because of that, but you made do, and if it meant being able to be with Wanda, you would take it. Even if you knew the situation was unsustainable in the long term. For now you were enjoying reading on the lounge chair for your upcoming university year. Billy was doing the same thing next to you, and Tommy was swimming in the pool so fast that you were surprised he didn't hit his head on something. More surprising, you could hear Wanda singing from the kitchen - she was cooking and refused any help despite you trying to offer it.

"Mom seems really happy lately," Billy commented offhandedly, getting his brother's attention in the process.

"Yeah," he breathed loudly as he stopped swimming, "it's kind of creepy."

Billy snorted at that and you shook your head in amusement. He put his book back and took his phone which was vibrating in his hand.

"I don't know, I like her being happy. Dad is calling, give me a second."

"Okay momma's boy. Tell him I say hi." Tommy disappeared back in the water, and you put your nose back into your book, trying not to spy on the conversation.

Quickly, Billy disappeared inside. You frowned a bit and wondered what was happening. An answer came five minutes later when he came back and sat down on the edge of the lounge chair to look at you guiltily.

"I'm sorry Y/n, my dad won't be able to take you with us. Apparently he wants us to meet his new girlfriend's kids and there won't be enough space."

"Oh," you blinked a few times, unsure of what to say right now.

"Mom says you'll talk together about what you want to do for that month." He put his hand on your shoulder. You processed the information. What were you supposed to do? All that you knew was that there was no more singing coming from the kitchen.

Later that evening, after you had all enjoyed a delicious fresh dish prepared by Wanda, you found her on the balcony. You approached her from behind and put your hands on the railing on each side of her. Delicatly, you kissed her shoulder, then her cheek, and she leaned right against you. You embraced her and swayed a few times before you settled.

"I hate when Vision springs things like this on me." Her hands settled on your arms. "It's only two days until his turn with Tommy and Billy and he couldn't bother informing me before? What if I had something already organized, a trip, or a mission? Then I would have been in a conundrum."

"I don't have to stay here you know?" You wouldn't be happy about it but you could. She turned around, a frown on her face.

"That's not what I meant, detka. I'm annoyed at his selfishness, but also… I'm happy at the idea of the both of us having alone time."

She kissed you briefly and you couldn't help a smile. You felt better upon hearing her saying she wanted you there.

"So, does that mean I'm staying?" You still asked to make sure.

"If you want to," she confirmed with a smile of her own. You caressed her cheek and placed some hair on the side of her face. The setting sun was hitting her and illuminating her features, creating a halo around her with the way her hair caught the rays on its strands, and a fire in your heart from the green of her eyes so lovingly looking at you.

"I want to," you answered with no doubt.

She jumped at you, her arms around your neck, and you spinned together before you put her down with a laugh. The upcoming month promised to be interesting.

*

"Are you sure you don't want us to stay?" Tommy asked with his sunglasses on his head. He had told you multiple times already that he was ready to protest his dad's decision by staying with you for the month to come, and you knew Billy would follow along with that decision. "We don't want to leave you alone."

"Yes, just enjoy your time with your dad. I'll be okay here. And I'm not alone, Wanda is here." You knew they wouldn't understand why you were unbothered by being with Wanda alone, and you somehow felt bad about it too. Keeping a secret from your best friends was hard but you knew it was better that way for now.

"Okay, but if you change your mind, we can always come back."

"Thank you, I appreciate it. Now go, your dad is waiting."

Tommy nodded and his sunglasses fell on his nose. He adjusted them, and with a side hug from him and Billy, you said your goodbyes, Wanda getting hugs from the both of them too. It was only for a month, but you knew you were going to miss them. Though for now, you had other things in mind.

"What do you want to do now?" You asked with a smirk once Vision's car was gone. Wanda put her hands on your shoulders, amused, and pushed you into the living room.

"Well, now I can do whatever I want," she seductively suggested as she kissed your jawline, going up to your ear. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt her breath. "So why don't we… take a trip?"

You tilted your head in order to be able to look at her. She smirked at first, then tried to look innocent.

"A trip where?" You asked, your curiosity piqued, but also aware that you had no money to go anywhere, and no passport. "Cause it'll have to be to the gas station."

"I was thinking more… Paris?" She suggested as she bit her lip. The idea of going on a trip with her was incredibly tempting. Waking up together, visiting museums, going to restaurants, walking at night around the city. It would be a dream come true. But once again… "I'd pay for everything."

Oh. That would… wait, no, still no passport. And you couldn't in good conscience let her pay for everything.

"I can't let you do that."

"Of course you can. You'll just have to invite me on a trip when you're accomplished with your own money." She shrugs like it was nothing, not talking about the fact you wouldn't be able to pay for anything for a few years at least. So you looked for another excuse, which presented itself.

"I don't have a passport," you said with disappointment.

"Don't worry about it, I can get one for you by tomorrow." She smiled tenderly and put her hand on your cheek while you thought about it. You kissed her palm and nodded in the end.

"Okay, let's do this."

Looked like you were going to Paris.

*

The same day at night, while you were watching a movie cuddled up together, you heard a knock on the door. Wanda had told you that your passport would be ready by tomorrow, but you didn't expect someone to actually show up at your door the very same night. You put your arm away from her shoulders so she could stand up, and you followed her curiously to the door. You expected a random agent or someone like that to bring it to you, but when she opened the door your eyebrows went up on your forehead.

"Nat!" Wanda exclaimed, visibly as surprised as you were. The redhead showed the passport to the both of you by holding it up in her hand. "I didn't expect you to bring it in person."

"What can I say, I wanted to meet your new girlfriend."

The both of you immediately blushed; you never really talked about relationship status, so having it qualified like that was new territory for you. You and Wanda exchanged a look and Natasha immediately caught on to it. She raised a very amused eyebrow and took a step inside the house. She held out the passport to you and you took it out of reflex.

"So you're Y/n, hm? You're less impressive than I imagined. Maybe we should train together someday."

"Please don't," Wanda said as she started to push Natasha out of the house. When she was out and the door was closed, you finally blinked yourself back to life.

"Thank you for the passport," you muttered to yourself before you turned to Wanda, confusion on your features. "What was that?"

The witch pinched her lips. "That was my best friend, who has been very bored since she retired."

There was a beat of silence while you processed all that just happened. In the end, there was only one thing that really mattered to you after all that. You grabbed Wanda's hand and brought it to your lips, looking at her above it.

"Sooo, are we girlfriends?" You asked with a small smirk but a blush on your cheeks nonetheless.

"Yes. Yes we are," she confirmed with a smile and a blush of her own. You kissed her hand and took her in your arms to kiss her lips this time.

"Sounds perfect." She kissed you again and you took the time to enjoy it. 

You went back to the movie, and then you prepared yourself for bed. You went for a short and some t-shirt before you stopped in front of the open door to Wanda's room to say goodnight. You had never taken the time to really look inside out of respect for her, but you couldn't help yourself this time. There were some crystals and books on the shelves, a guitar on the wall, a few masquerade masks above the bed, and pictures of her family here and there. She was in front of a massive but low bed with dark purple bed sheets, wearing something similar to you, with her hair flowing around her pretty face.

"I came to say good night," you said, getting her attention. She turned around and your heart skipped a beat seeing her like that. You wanted to stay with her longer, but you had a big day tomorrow of preparing and going to the airport, and you never shared a room so far. You didn't want to overstep.

"You can come in," she offered and you took it, walking one step forward inside the room. It smelled like her and you immediately felt like she was all around you, relaxing your shoulders when her eyes fell on yours. A small, timid smile graced her lips when she approached you, grabbed your shirt and gave you a chaste kiss. "Stay for the night?"

The offer took you by surprise. You never slept in the same bed before, mainly because it was too dangerous with the boys under the same roof, but also in respect to her boundaries. You also didn't want to look desperate by asking.

You nodded, mouth agape at her proposition.

"Gladly," you finally answered and she clinged onto you. You quickly let your arms fall into place around her. After what felt like an ideal forever, you both went under the covers of the bed, staying far apart at first until you decided to take her hand and bring her closer to you.

"It's been a long time since I had anyone in my bed," she confided in you. You hummed, letting her go where she needed with her train of thought. "I… I've never been with a woman. I've always known I was bi, but I never had the opportunity. I hope you're not disappointed."

"Why would I be disappointed?" You asked in confusion, and she shrugged, not daring to look you in the eyes. You gently grabbed her chin and had her look at you. "For me, you're perfect, Wanda."

The emotions in her eyes were giving them a glint, and a few tears rolled down her cheeks. You rubbed the tears away with an understanding smile, and kissed her forehead before she kissed your lips hungrily. She straddled you with no warning, igniting something in you, making you grab her hips to stabilize her against you long enough to reverse your positions. Without any thoughts, you grind your hips against her core and a moan escaped her. It immediately made you realize what you were doing and you broke the ongoing kiss.

"I'm sorry, I–"

"No, it's okay," she told you, one hand finding purchase behind your neck. "Don't stop now."

Your mouth dried, your heart rate went straight to heaven, and a fire spread inside of you like wildfire. And so you did what you were told.

Your kiss got deep and fierce, leaving your lips bruised, and you pushed against her again, feeling how warm the inside of her legs was. She moaned in your mouth, and that made you smile. You took the opportunity to kiss her jawline and her neck, feeling her pulse against your lips before you traced a line with your tongue. It made her all breathy, even more so when your teeth scraped her skin and finally settled on her pulse point where you started to mark her.

Meanwhile one of your hands moved to her stomach under her shirt, tracing up her abdomen and tracing down, going around her navel, before going up again. Then you pushed her up towards you to start taking off her shirt, an effort that didn't go ignored when she helped you take it off. Once done, you took the time to admire her; her shoulders were slender, giving way to her collarbones, then her round breast with their perky, pink nipples, and her abdomen which bore the marks of motherhood.

"Yours now," she breathed heavily, pushing you upright to take off your shirt. He hand steadied when she started to reveal your body and with it the scars of your mistreatment. They were faded and hardly visible if you didn't know what to look for from afar, so it was the first time she noticed them. With your shirt out of the way, you wanted to get back to worshiping her body, but you waited for her as she traced the lighter scars on your skin. It gave you goosebumps. But slowly you took her hand, and gave her a reassuring smile.

"It's nothing," you whispered before kissing her hungrily. The passion quickly returned and it was like there had been no interruption.

You kissed her collarbone, and quickly found your way to her right breast. Her nipple was just waiting for you, all hard and tender, and you took it in your mouth to play with it. Her moans encouraged you to slip your hand on top of her crotch. Even through her pajama shorts you were able to feel how wet she was. You massaged her through the fabric, making her back arch in search for more friction. You were quick to give it to her after your hand went under her shorts, touching her hairs and flesh, cupping her to give her more purchase against your hand. While doing this, you dipped two fingers between her folds to coat them in her wetness, playing with her entrance at the same time. You moved your thumb over her clit and formed small circles over the bundle of nerves. The answer was immediate, her hands dug into your hair and gripped them strongly. She brought you back up for a hungry kiss and you happily kissed back. Her hands moved from your hair to your back, just as you pressed two fingers inside her, and the pain of her fingernails digging into your skin was the best reward you could wish for.

"God, you're so wet," you said against her lips, not moving inside of her.

"Pl-please…" she pleaded. You hummed, a small smirk on your lips to see her all pretty like that, begging for you, her cheeks red from the pleasure. "More… please."

You gave her a kiss and started moving your fingers inside of her. Her moans were a litany, a song you could listen to for hours on end. You went faster, but still took your time, slowing down from time to time to have her plead for more only to pick up the pace again and add a finger. She finally came, gushing on your hand and you slowed down for good.

"That… that felt good," she said, still breathing hard, and there was a spark in your eyes.

"Felt? Who said it was over?"

And before she had the chance to say anything, your face was between her legs and she was moaning again.

You pleasured her multiple times, until she tapped out for good on her fifth orgasm. Your face was damp with her fluids and your fingers had wrinkled, but it felt good to pleasure her so much. Despite how tired she was after all that, she insisted on taking care of you too. She explored your body with the same reverence you did hers, and you guided her to your own orgasm.

Bone tired, you took a quick shower together before going back to bed naked and falling asleep in each other's arms.

[slowlysoluminary]

after that wack-tastic piece of media i figured we could all!! use a break!!!!!!! so!!!!!!

(more) doodles below the cut. and some commentary! Hurray!

^^ Post game is interesting. Most of the timeloop is about figuring the deal with the memories, some of it is about sif comng to terms with the king, and the very very end of it is about everyone regaining their memories.

so i say it again post game is REALLY interesting!!! because everyone, collectively, is trying to balance their old memories and their new memories. everyone except siffrin. who is not 1:1 old siffrin but is the closest to it, considering how much loop's been through.

loop??? becomes corporeal at some point in the end.

it's very bittersweet! i think! the whole of the party does an "i want to remember!!!" sequence, fighting with their own minds to fill the gaping holes they'd always ignored.

-- loop, after realizing the extent to which they're familiar with the party, had tried desperately to get the party to remember them throughout the loops. in hopes that something would change. they never remembered.

at the same time, siffrin is talking to the king - they're fighting with eachother physically and verbally, desperately trying to get the other understand. resetfrin is not the siffrin the king hated so earnestly, not the siffrin he tried to snuff out.

over the course of many conversations with the king, siffrin caught on. the king is the major lore dump here and is who causes most of the narrative development because i say so !!!!!!!!!!!!

actually. about post game. do you know why their designs are like that

resetfrin hated the lack of autonomy he had over their own body so they decided to. cut their hair. it's a bit curlier now that there's not a lot weighing it down

they decided not to keep the star stuff the king gave them. yada yada character development or whatever.

they gave their cloak to loop!! who is. siffrin again. physically at least. both siffrins are siffrin but with clear differences! like hair length and hair texture! and ohhhhhhhh no what do you mean the universe gave them the wrong body?? what?????? how cruel!!! how blasphemous!!!!!!!

loop hated the idea of keeping her hair darkless (mirror pronouns for loop btw!!! remember that!!!). it reminded them of what it was like to be ghostloop. which they hated!!! but they couldn't have their hair be lightless because that was resetfrin's new thing, so... they just. kept dying the bottom parts of it lightless. it's a compromise

how does the party distinguish the two siffrins, name-wise? uhhhhhh. ask me that question later. idk.

if.... if i have pre-game planned out. and post-game planned out.

then the inly thing I don't have planned out is the ACTUAL time loop bit

it's quite daunting because? that's like the entire point of the original game? it feels like i hve to live up to so much and like fhe loops have to have such a packed, coherent story

though, to be fair, most of what I'm writing will just be. the time loop bit. so i guess I'm figuring it out as i go

anyway, actually talking about the two sketches above, ghostloop is for SIFFRIN'S EYES ONLY!!! she can hit things but things can't hit her and all that.

after figuring out, through past loops, that the King can't see them, they realized siffrin was their only connection to the physical world. The Last Piece Left of them, physically and metaphorically. the whole time they longed for something else to acknowledge their existence. acknowledge theyre real

they also realize they can do Fuckery

the king has a Sixth Sense for loop's Fuckery,,, flipping him The Bird resulted in a rather quick death for Siffrin. whoops!!!!!

this au is. more closely revolved around gloop than i thought. don't worry!! i have a lot of gloop content planned! but. but you need to understand the pain of resetfrin and the king. the misery snd desperation fhe king felt about his country. siffrin pleading with the king, countlessly, hoping to see some SEMBLANCE of the man he once knew. you need to know the missing pieces the party finds, a hollow feeling settling itself around their hearts. you need to know so bad.

so you'll get gloop content! i am a big fan of the little guy myself, really. but !!! this au is not ONLY about them, believe it or not! hehe. haha. giggles. ok ill stop

[shares-a-vest]

For @batboysxprompts 'Bat to the Bone' Steddie Flash Event

Expanding on THIS drawing I did ages ago (don't look at it, it is the first digital thing I've ever drawn and I did the pixel thingy wrong). I really only have three different ideas turning like a rotisserie in my head.

"Aw, come on, Steve, they are so cute!" Robin chimes as she scratches a small, fluffy bat behind the ear with sickly affection.

She is sitting on the floor by the coffee table, hand-feeding the thing from an upturned ziplock bag of mixed nuts and dried fruit, the pile spreading every time she goes to it. Meanwhile, Nancy spins around, watching as three more critters circle her, chirping away in unison and periodically dipping to rest delicately on her hand like she's a goddamn woodland-dwelling Disney princess.

"Why don't you like them?" Nancy adds, like she hasn't made this argument each time Steve has complained about the flying nightmares over the past two months.

He folds his arms, watching on from the archway into the living room.

But he doesn't stay standing in dramatic defiance for long because he is soon moving to slap away one bat coming for his arm, the one that always goes straight for a nibble on his biceps.

He can't tell any of them apart physically, even though everyone else can. Including the girls who have a rotation of names for the dozen or so bats that Eddie has "doing his bidding" or sends out "for protection" or whatever other excuse he has for them living in Steve's house 24/7.

At least they had enough sense to stay up in amongst the exposed wood beams when his parents were home a few weeks back.

"What the - "

Steve babbles incoherently as another (which Dustin so unhelpfully named Bat Steve due to his predilection for hair) comes swooping, landing directly in his hair. He knows better than to remove him because Bat Steve will hold on for dear life and tangle himself up to nest there.

He ignores him - as best he can ignore a literal bat brushing away at his hair like he's combing it - to continue, "So what happened at work today was perfectly fine, then? How are we supposed to explain that to Keith?"

"Just tell him a pigeon flew in through the door with a customer when the door opened and pooped everywhere," Nancy shrugs, ever the one to come up with a lie on the fly.

Robin clicks her fingers in agreement and points a finger at Nancy, "That's a good one."

Steve rolls his eyes, "Yeah a pigeon shitting red berries everywhere makes a whole lotta sense!"

He swats away Bicep Chomper again as Robin offers up more berries.

"Here you go," she coos, leaning in close.

"Maybe you should stop feeding them!" he snaps, turning heel into the entryway so he can use the hall mirror and figure out how to detangle Bat Steve.

Three others follow along, hovering around him in a flapping halo as he looks in the mirror.

"God damn it!"

He gesticulates wildly at his reflection, huffing and whining at the sight of a red smear on the collar of his predominantly white polo. He turns to look over his shoulder and, sure enough, there are more drip marks down the back of his work vest too.

"I need Eddie to wake up so he can take them while I shower," he whines, speaking more to himself than the girls who are now cooing in baby-talk to the bats still in the living room.

He is about to continue extracting Bat Steve when a laugh drifts down the staircase.

The bats go flying upwards. Except for Bat Steve, who merely attempts to do so but gets a claw caught up in a lock of Steve's fringe, giving an eye-watering tug as he goes. Steve grabs him and yanks him clean out, along with a few precious stands. At this rate, Bat Steve is going to send Human Steve bald.

"Come to your Vampir Master," Eddie commands in his Dungeon Master voice as he throws his arms wide.

He cackles when they each land along his right arm.

Steve rolls his eyes at the supposed Master. A joke everyone around him, all being nerds, ran into the ground. It honestly wasn't that funny anyway, considering the only real differences between Eddie before and after coming back from the Upside Down as a vampire are 1) no sunlight, 2) drinking blood, and 3) a bunch of unruly bats flapping about.

He opens his mouth to start up the laundry list of complaints he had been reciting since the bats pooped their way through his place of employment just after lunchtime. But Eddie smirks at him and winks.

Okay so maybe Steve enjoys the whole Master-Vampire boyfriend thing on occasion. He shakes his head. It just cannot be right now...

Eddie bounces down the stairs, lowering his arm and Bat Steve comes straight back.

"Eds, tell them to stop!" Steve dry sobs, sounding utterly childish as Eddie descends the stairs.

Showing Eddie-level dramatics wasn't exactly the game plan here but, with Bat Steve burrowing back into his hair, he can't help it.

His hair!

"Come here, Cordelia," Eddie coos, gently lifting Cordelia out of his hair.

But the relief is short-lived because now Steve can feel a critter crawling up his back to rest on his left shoulder. Oh no.

The others are very annoying and, in Cordelia's case, painful. And overall yeah, being followed around constantly by your vampire boyfriend's bat squadron is potentially life-ruining considering the carpet in Family Video is now covered in bat poop stains.

But this one (aka, Bitey) bites.

He points to his shoulder where he can hear Bitey chirping away, readying itself to attack, "At least stop this one!"

"Samwise, come with me, darling," Eddie instructs, reaching forward and flattening his palm.

Bitey (there's no way Steve is calling him anything other than that for now) retreats behind his neck, hiding. He does this a lot, the little shit.

"Sam," Eddie warns sternly.

The bat inches forward, clearly reluctant as Eddie plucks him off Steve's shoulder, a claw catching on the fabric of his polo. Eddie raises his hand so Bitey is at eye level.

"Stop biting. Only I get to bite Steve."

[thenotsosecretdiaryofbiyu]

2024年7月30日--- MONKEY 壽山

Today most of us went to 壽山 during our free morning to go hiking and see some monkeys! Only thing is, I woke up at like 7 AM, with only two hours of sleep because of the movie I went to with some of the others last night smhhhh.

Eli told us all it would be a beginner’s route, except he was super wrong. I handled it fine because I like to hike and my stamina is pretty strong, but some of the others didn’t, and I felt bad for them. At one point it was literally us going straight up vertically and CLIMBING ROCKS. I brought my tote bag with me, which was a massive mistake, but I still managed so it was fine. Thankfully, there was a water station part way up the mountain because all of us underestimated how much we would need to make the trip.

Also it’s no joke, I have a huge phobia of going DOWN stairs. I can go up them just fine, and I even prefer it A LOT over going down them. If I get too scared, my vision starts blurring and I start shaking. Thankfully, Brooke was right in front of me, so I just kept my eyes on her heels and followed her down. Except, apparently, Eli, Iris, Brooke, and I’s pace was super fast, so we lost everyone else lol. We ended up leaving the mountain and catching the train, and getting to the hotel a half hour before the rest of them LOL. I immediately showered and then went to OK Mart (the most ok-est mart) to grab myself some snackies.

Our first real activity of the day was going to the Kaohsiung Museum of Fine Arts! Except because I was tired from sleep deprivation and exhausted from the hike, I was NOT in the right headspace to view some of that trippy stuff. The top floor was dedicated to the artist Chuang Ming-chi’s four exhibitions, and the most trippy one was the “Run! Be Happy” exhibit. It had these distorted, colorful humanoid figures hanging from the ceiling and they honestly reminded me of some horror animes and mangas I’ve watched and read in the past. Thankfully Amy agreed that most of his work was unsettling, so we left pretty quickly. It was all super cool, and he’s definitely talented, it’s just I would definitely need more sleep before going back to that museum to properly appreciate his work. But on one of the lower floors, there was this super cute painting of some fishies! There was also this creepy goat statue that I really liked too lol.

After that we went to the Alien Art Centre, and that was almost just as trippy. There was a room that everyone collectively agreed was NOT fun to be in; there was a video of a woman clucking, and a metronome inside a shirt pocket. Super unsettling. There was a whole floor dedicated to minimalism, and that wasn’t for me, BUT there was a super pretty jewelry room! The colors were fun and I liked the mirrors built into every piece! They were trippy, but in a good way! I really wanted this one pink ring that was for sale, but with a price point of $1600+ USD, no way LOL.

After that we were done with our activities for the day, I went home and napped, and then we went out to get ourselves some pizza! My pizza didn’t have sauce though? Only cheese??? So that was strange, probably won’t order that one again. But Amy’s veggie pizza was good, and that might be the move next time.

Academic Reflection

It’s distressing and also interesting to learn about the buildings with disturbing pasts that were repurposed into museums and other things. The Alien Art Centre used to be the Kin-Ma Military Hostel. It was the place that soldiers would live temporarily while they waited to be shipped off to the front lines at Kinmen and Matsu islands. Those are the islands between Taiwan and China, located in the Taiwan Strait. According to Peter, you can see China from them. That’s scary to me, like actually scary. I can’t imagine how the soldiers felt looking at the mainland, wondering if and when they would have to fight. Being in the military sounds so scary, just not knowing where you’ll be sent or if you’ll be able to come back. There was a room in the museum dedicated to the soldiers who stayed there as well. It was filled with poems about the physical and emotional hardships they endured, and everything was beautifully displayed.

After doing some research about the cold war between the PRC (China) and the ROC (Taiwan), I learned that the PRC bombed the islands that the ROC controlled twice, and that the US played a significant part in the conflict. The cold war happened after Chiang Kai-shek and the Guomindang fled to Taiwan and apparently, the island groups closest to the PRC’s Fujian Province (Matsu and Quemoy) were viewed as advantageous for a potential attack from the ROC to reclaim the PRC. Because of that, a large part of the conflict revolved around who could have the islands. The USA was involved because of its part in trying to stop communism from spreading (and at the time the US was also involved in the Korean War happening between North and South Korea at the same time). The conflict can basically be described as a lot of back and forth between the PRC and the ROC, with the US stepping in to assist the ROC and promise to protect. Of course, the cold war eventually ended and the ROC still has possession of its islands (I do not believe they lost any of them). According to the Taiwan Employment Gold Card Office website, Taiwan has 165 auxiliary islands! That’s something I had no idea about, and I plan to look into more when I get the chance!

#Iwantametalgoat,howrichdoIhavetobetobuyone?

[dzthenerd490]

Tales: GATE Part 6

Thankfully the drive wasn't bad at all, everyone ended up taking turns driving the MGDB-4 "bulldogs" and those that weren't were handling the directions or just talking. Right now, it was Kaneki who was mapping out the directions. He was using a Foundation Computer Screen Pad that showed all the land mapped out by the long-distance Foundation drones. Kaneki was simply drawing out the best routes and sending a live feed to Itami's helmet as he drove. Itami still wasn't used to having a computer screen on the visor of his helmet. It showed him so much information while also giving him a clear view of what was in front of him, though it did help to think of it as a videogame. 

While Kaneki kept reviewing the map, he noticed Lelei looking over his shoulder, he then helped her to understand how he was reading it and how it worked. Though when concerning the Computer Screen Pad in general, he tried to explain that too, but Lelei didn't get it so as anything other than magic; so, he just went with that. MTF High Commander Yōsai, who was in the front alongside Xio, noticed Kaneki and Lelei talking and smiled at the sight. 

"Ah, it always feels good to watch Youngsters fall in love, ey Kaito?" Yōsai looked at the rearview mirror to confirm and sure enough he got Kaito's attention. They were speaking in japanese hence why Kaneki blushed, but Lelei was left in confusion.

"Hm, though it seems you got lucky and found someone yourself, I heard she's your age yeah?"

"Shut up Hoshi, your high position doesn't mean you can be arrogant."

"Hmph, would have been your position if you hadn't screwed up 70 years ago."

"Tch, a hundred years later and still a brat." Yōsai chuckled while Kaito just grunted in annoyance. Itami and his group who accidentally listened were shocked to hear them throw around such high numbers of age such as 70 and 100 as if it was no big deal. Even Xio who could understand everything, was surprised to hear that Kaito was possibly as old as MTF High Commander Yōsai. Especially Rory who was seemingly teasing Tuka about something in their native language. Kaito noticed this and after hearing what they were saying he looked at them in shock. Rory then smiled at Kaito and Tuka looked at him while blushing in embarrassment, Kato quickly looked the other way also blushing in embarrassment. 

Itami noticed this and felt jealous for not knowing what they were talking about, it was clearly a lively conversation and he wanted details. Itami then turned to Kaneki and saw how he was wearing one of those translation collars. He was currently using it to switch between the native language and Japanese to both talk to Lelei and teach her some more Japanese on the side. 

"Hey Sasaki-san?"

"Hm? What is it Itami-san?"

"Any chance I could get a translation collar?"

"Oh, sorry, tech like that is restricted for Level 2 Clearance Personnel and above."

"Wah? Wait what Level Clearance am I?"

"Uh... well you're in MTF Sigma-66 so it's hard to say. But you're definitely lower than Level 1 Clearance... which essentially means you're banned from all gear except for what we give you." Itami was shocked to hear this but just sighed as he knew there was nothing else he could do. 

"Woah hey, what the hell?" Xio then stopped the vehicle, in front of the road it could be seen that their eventual destination had black smoke. 

"Shit, Kaneki and Lelei, you're going to want to see this!" Kaneki and Lelei moved forward to get a better look, Kaneki used his binoculars to see what was happening though even when heavily enhancing the view he just saw smoke. He then gave them to Lelei in hopes she would understand better, though he had to help her use them as she wore them in reverse. 

"Hm... it's not the season for bush fires, some people must have set up a fire but it's too big?" Suddenly Rory stepped forward past them and smiled at the sight of the smoke.

"Rory? What's wrong?"

"The stench of blood. A battle has taken place here." Xio and Yōsai looked at one another and then to Lelei with concern.

"Lelei? Do you think it's a mistake to come here?" Lelei looked to Xio, then to MTF High Commander Yōsai, then to Kaneki. She was sure that so long as they were here everything would be fine. Besides, if they left now then things wouldn't go according to her plan to finally repay the SCP Foundation for all the good they did for her and the others. 

"We'll be fine, with Rory here, they won't dare attack us. We just need to show we mean no harm." MTF High Commander Yōsai shrugged while Captain Xio just sighed and started driving again.

"I'm trusting my men with your decision, Lelei. Don't let me down, okay?" Lelei felt a pain in her heart after hearing that, but she was sure this would work out in the end. 

***

They made it to the gates, though the entrance was anything but friendly. The gates were closed, the baristas were aimed right at them, and a man at the gates demanded to know who they were. 

"Uh Lelei I'm going to have to insist we try somewhere else."

"Please wait Xio, this town is our best option, at least allow me to go up there and talk to them." 

"I can't allow that!" Lelei and Xio turned to Yōsai who quickly joined in on the conversation. 

"Sorry Lelei but you're essential to the mission. Second of all you are considered a VIP within the G Class personnel. To allow you to enter danger is punishable by death within the Foundation or worse demotion to D Class. Though regardless of rankings I can't risk your lives for any reason, please let us think of another option."

"But Commander, if I, a native of this world, don't tell them that we mean them no harm then what else can we do? You all are not native here so they will naturally assume they are your enemies only I can break this misunderstanding."

"Hey hold it Lelei!" Soon Tuka bumped into the conversation.

"Why are you so adamant on us doing trading in this city? You realize these people saved us, right? If they think it's trouble here, then let's just leave and find another one."

"But it has to be this one, the SCP Foundation wants to have secret ties with the empire. There's no better place to start here. All I have to do is speak on their behalf and the Empire will learn not to harm the SCP Foundation anymore."

"... Ugh, fine. But I'm coming too!"

"No, you are not!" MTF High Commander Yōsai was now getting visibly angry at the two of them which shook Tuka and possibly Lelei thought it was hard to tell as her expression did change. 

"There is no way in hell I am allowing two Class G civilians, especially VIPs like yourselves, to face possible hostiles!"

"You don't need to worry Yōsai, I'll be going with them!" Rory then happily sat up thinking it would reassure Yōsai.

"SIT DOWN RORY!" Instead, to her shock, he was red with anger. Rory normally took orders from no one, but Rory found Yōsai, as a fellow immortal, interesting so she decided to listen. MTF High Commander Yōsai groaned with disappointment, but then looked to Xio as she placed her hand on his shoulder. 

"High Commander, with all due respect, they are right. We should let the locals do the talking; it is the whole point of Operation Blind Spot."

"... ugh... damn it, alright fine, but I'm coming with you! Captain Zapata you're with me, you too Trooper Itami! On the double!" Itami was shocked at first but felt it was right for him to go as he thought it would be cruel to leave Yōsai to be the sole protector of the girls, so he got out of the vehicle with everyone else. He also decided to be extra manly by going in the front to take any potential arrows, though most of his courage came from the fact that his armor was bulletproof. Though with all the notifications blinking on his visor and not knowing how to control them he quickly took off his helmet which greatly annoyed Yōsai.

"Itami, what are you doing? Get back here." 

"Ah, don't worry Sir- I mean High Commander! Ahem, I'm just making sure to be the human shield."

"Itami don't be an idiot, also put your damn helmet on!"

"Don't worry Sir, I think I can actually see better without it."

"Itami, I'm serious! You never know when something might-" Suddenly the door swung open, and Princess Pina came out. She swung the door open so fast that Itami was hit on the face and fell down to the ground flat instantly. 

"Hit you on the head..."

"I'M GLAD YOU ALL CAME! ESPECIALLY YOU RORY THE REAPER! PLEASE SAVE US WITH YOUR... Your... divine... power... What's wrong, why are you all so quiet?"

"Uh, ma'am, as much as I would love to talk to your superiors, can you please get off of my subordinate?" Pina looked down and saw that she was standing on Itami's unconscious body, more specifically on his crotch. She quickly started panicking as she knew that any negotiations, she had quickly broken down by her unintentionally attacking the enemy. 

"Don't start dancing on him you moron, just get off of him!"

"Uh Captain? What's exactly going on over there?" As Xio got the transmission from Kaneki, she looked back to the others. Pina was sweating with fear as Rory and Tuka were tending to Itami. Meanwhile Lelei and Yōsai were watching the chaos though Yōsai seemed to be struggling to hold back his laughter. 

"Uh... yeah just give us a minute or a two... hundred."

***

After things finally calmed down Pina properly apologized for accidentally hitting Itami in the face. Though to their shock Pina revealed herself to be the princess of the very empire they were trying to connect to through the shadows. Technically this is not a part of Operation: Blind Spot but Yōsai in particular saw this as an opportunity. After explaining the situation to them Yōsai realized how they could take advantage to ensure the operation was a success. Yōsai told Princess Pina that they were a mercenary group that had managed to employ all sorts of talent from around the world hence why they had Rory, Tuka, Lelei and were in possession of strange looking weapons. Pina didn't buy it but pretended she did. First, she couldn't begin to think of what the truth was; second, she was really desperate for outside help. 

Thus, the two groups decided to work together in exchange for certain rewards that would be discussed later. Pina didn't like the sound of that last part so all she could do was mentally pray that they wouldn't ask for her enslavement or the city of Italica. Pina requested that Yōsai and Xio have their troops positioned at the South Gate, Xio then ordered Itami to relay this information and have everyone meet them at the Gate. 

It didn't take long for them to get the MGDB-4's on the outside of the gate and have their turrets set to defensive mode. Meanwhile everyone was stationed on the edges of the gates looking out in the distance or taking their time getting ready. This wasn't in their mission at all, but things rarely go according to plan within this world, so everyone was kinda used to it at this point. So instead of complaining everyone just decided to help the princess in her plan to defend the town. Gaining favors from the empire was part of the operation anyways, and it did feel good to see the people of Italica's morals raise knowing they were getting help. 

"Hey! We got scouts out in the distance." Xio looked to where one of her troopers were pointing in the distance, after using her binoculars she saw there were three men on horseback. 

"I got them Captain, just say the word." One of her snipers got out his rifle, she knew he could headshot all three of them instantly but...

"Nah, let them go. For all we know they have Thaumaturgic abilities, or perhaps more free magic-based abilities like Lelei. Even if that's not the case they could still be encouraged to get specialized shields or armor that are thick enough to stop bullets."

"Think you're giving them too much credit, boss."

"Hey, don't give me that crap! One of the ways you survive in the Foundation is that you prepare for everything, even the impossible." The Trooper sighed but did as Xio ordered, Itami noticed this and looked to his men who seemed a little too relaxed. 

"Hey! Take what Captain Zapata said to heart! In unknown territory anything is possible. So don't slack off!" The Sigma-66 units nodded and continued preparing their guns and other defensive weapons but now with more enthusiasm. 

"Thank you Itami."

"Of course, boss."

"How are things going?" High Commander Yōsai had just walked up from the stare to their level on the wall. 

"Going a little too well sir, we could get attacked right now and the turrets could do most of the work for us so everyone's taking it easy."

"Ha, that's assuming these hostiles don't have pet dragons or have mages like Lelei among them."

"I said something similar to the men earlier so they picked up the pace a little, Itami helped with that."

"I see, good work you two, if this battle goes well then with favors owed by the princess of the Empire, Operation Blind Spot will go more smoothly than expected."

"That's assuming it will go well." Kuwahara walked up to the three of them and bowed to Xio and Yōsai. 

"What's on your mind Trooper Kuwahara?"

"High Commander with all due respect I have to express some concerns."

"Feel free to tell me, at the Foundation we consider those who cast aside such concerns as fools."

"Thank you, High Commander. I am concerned about the bad state Italica is in, their defenses too. They put a barricade behind the gate as a twofold system. They know the gate will give out and are just looking to buy time. That's also why they have torches everywhere to ensure that when one gate falls the others can rush in and help. Which is going to be required since there's only about 5000 people in this town so-"

"Trooper Kuwahara. I don't mean to be rude but get to the point."

"... Why are we only stationed at this Gate? And why on the gate when we're rifle men. It's almost like-"

"We're bait? Yeah, pretty much."

"Ah, you knew!"

"Yup, her plan is to trick the enemy into thinking with our low numbers compared to the other gates that we're weak and can't defend. So, they'll come charging in and will have to be dealt with us. It's a very savage strategy to implement, especially on your newly formed allies, she's a princess of the Empire alright."

"Hmph, I don't disapprove since we are helping the people by doing this but why go with it High Commander?"

"You can just call me Yōsai, and its mainly to test the strength of this world. Granted the Foundation has already gone through two battles with the forces of this world but according to our sources they didn't all belong to the Empire. So, we need to assess all the strength of all potential enemies that exist within this world."

"Hm... awfully aggressive Yōsai. Don't you think so?"

"Yes, but it's the most effective way to get results as fast as possible. Within the Foundation, you find that results matter more than how they are obtained, or at least that's how the O5 sees it, faceless bastards." Both Kuwahara and Itami felt the disappointment in Yōsai's voice, neither of them wanted to press further. 

"Hm. noble, but very foolish." Everyone then turned to Rory who was looking over the edge of the wall with Lelei and Tuka behind her. 

"I mean its noble of you to want to risk yourself to protect the innocent people of Italica but it's foolish to be following the princess after knowing she's just using you as bait. So, what's the reason for listening to her?"

"We don't really get any better options Rory."

"You do, just kill the princess and declare Italica new territory of the SCP Foundation."

"We're not conquerors Rory, we already have land in this world we don't need more."

"So, you're really just doing it to help the princess?"

"Pretty much." Rory just sighed as she shrugged in confusion. Yōsai smiled at her but then noticed Itami still not wearing his helmet and started getting annoyed again.

"Itami for god's sake put your damn helmet on!"

"Uh, sorry sir but wearing it for too long hurts my head. All the blinking lights are messing with my vision."

"You were supposed to activate the regulation mode on it before putting it on. Didn't you bother reading the manual?"

"There's a manual?" Yōsai sighed in disappointment while Xio slapped him across the head. She then proceeded to show him how to activate the regulation mode on his helmet while he hastily tried to follow what she was saying. Rory walked up to Itami and held his helmet for him so that he could follow Xio's instructions more carefully. 

"Hm, if our motives sound too pure then just know that we're doing this because we want the princess to owe us a favor or two afterwards."

"Oh? and what would those favors lead to?"

"Hm... well I guess it's okay to tell. We want the princess to be one of our inside voices within the Empire to be able to control it without having any physical influence." Rory looked up at Xio with a face slightly changed with shock, she didn't like the sound of that but still wanted to hear Xio out.

"Why would you want that?"

"To make sure the Empire forgets the Foundation exists."

"Why?"

"In our world, the anomalous isn't supposed to exist. Dragons and magic also exist in our world, but no one knows they do." Itami looked at Xio in shock which grabbed both Xio and Rory's attention.

"See? The SCP Foundation is dedicated to ensuring that common people don't have to worry about the horrors that reside in the shadows. We mainly work to ensure they don't even know they exist in the first place. It should be no different for this world, though there's one thing regarding the anomalous we must always keep from the public. It's that the Foundation is technically an anomaly as well. So, in this world as well, we will be sure to make the Foundation nothing more than a nightmare to the empire that will be forgotten in a week or so. Though in reality we'll just be in the darkness watching everything through unseen eyes."

"Hm... falsehood and deceit will contaminate your soul."

"You disapprove?"

"Very much so. Emroy is the god of war; he doesn't condemn killing of people. However, your motivations are essential. Those who kill without honesty as to why, are to be damned."

"Hmph, everyone in the Foundation is already damned to hell, we just accepted that as part of the job. We die in the dark so you can live in the light." Rory felt a strange power form those words, it was almost like the same energy given when a soul's flower through her after death though not as powerful.

"... Are you sure the Foundation worships no gods?"

"None whatsoever, why?" Rory just smiled as she just found something extremely interesting about the Foundation. 

"Hm, pay it no mind, now then back to topic, you did say you plan to achieve this unholy act of secrecy by winning this battle?"

"We're not entirely sure yet, but if these marauders turn out to be just as easy to kill as all the other enemies we've faced then yeah. The princess will have to think twice before saying no to us." Finally, Itami got the Helmet on regulation mode, so he put it back on, finally his visor was clear of useless notifications and info. He then stood up to join in on the conversation.

"Ah, so showing her that it's better to be friends than enemies, that's the message we want to convey to the princess, right?"

"... essentially yeah." Rory's smile returned and started twirling around while raising her arms in the air. 

"Haha! How very interesting! Complete terror! To strike complete and utter terror into the very being of that princess! She and those who join her will always fear the darkness you reside in and fear upsetting the SCP Foundation for she knows that if she dares disobey, you will drag her to the deepest domain of Hardy!"

"Ah! Rory, I don't really think that's what Xio meant, right Captain?"

"Actually, Rory was more on the mark than you were Itami." Itami lost his colors as he was frozen in shock, meanwhile Rory faced Xio and raised her dress slightly to bow with grace. 

"I take back what I said, as Emroy is the lord of darkness, I'm sure it will please him that your organization is so willing to use his domain to reside and grow in power. As one of Emroy's Apostles I will be sure to assist you in establishing your veil of darkness. Feel free to reside in all the darkness in the world and control the light from within."

"Hm, we prefer to call it the veil of normalcy, though some others call it the veil over the anomalous world, but I guess that has a nice ring to it as well." Rory laughed at that but nodded in agreement Xio then extended his hand and Rory took it and shook. It seemed that Rory was going to be an ally to the Foundation much longer than expected. 

***

Later that night, the units under Xio and Itami had turned on night vision on their visors to be on the lookout for enemies. But no one was coming, in fact, the whole field in front of them was completely barren. 

"What the heck? where did they all go?"

"Did they give up?"

"Nah, they're probably trying to get more resources or bigger weapons, I bet they're planning on coming tomorrow night."

"Hm... something about this doesn't feel right."

"Captain! Over at the east gate!" Xio and the others looked to where one of her troopers were pointing and sure enough the east gate lit its enemy torches.

"Shit, come on everyone we're moving out."

"Wha- but Captain! We haven't received any orders from the princess!" Xio then glared at Itami in disappointment, actually scaring him. 

"Itami, do you honestly think that the princess has time to send us a message? Right now, she's probably hoping we'll make it there in time which we won't if you keep wasting time."

"But Captain-" Itami raised his hands to keep Kurokawa from speaking and nodded to Xio. Everyone then got off the wall and ran to the east gate as fast as possible. Thankfully there was one MGDB-4 still on the inside of Italica so Xio, Itami, Yōsai, Lelei, Tuka, Rory, Kaneki, and Kaito all rode on it while everyone else kept running. However, as they were getting closer to the battlefield Rory started moaning and twitching around. 

"Uh, Rory? What are you doing?"

"She can't help it, she's an Apostle of Emroy so naturally when people die in battle their souls flow through her while ascending to the afterlife. As she feels their energy flow through her it gives her strength but also... pleasure apparently." Rory then moaned loudly again making everyone in the car blush in embarrassment. Itami seemed to mutter something to which Xio slapped him hard on the head, he still felt it despite the helmet being bulletproof. Once they were very close Rory suddenly busted out of the MGDB-4 heavily damaging the roof and the turret. 

"Rory! You little-! Augh! Xio goes after her!" Xio smiled and jumped out of the hole in the roof, spun in the air, and landed perfectly on the ground. She looked up to see Rory charging into the battle and swinging her axe around slaughtering tens of the marauders at once. Xio was surprised someone as short as Rory could handle such a large weapon but more importantly, she shouldn't fall behind. She ran beyond the barricade and into the marauders, as soon as they surrounded her, she unleashed her hidden blades. In mere seconds she slashed the vital points of their body parts in between their armor with great speed and precision. Even when she missed and hit the armor her hidden blades were strong enough to pierce the armor meaning none of them were lucky enough to survive her wrath. In 5 seconds, all the marauders around her fell to the ground so she ran to the group to kill more. 

Kaneki got out of the MGDB-4 first and started firing at the marauders that got over the barricades. The number of marauders attempting this quickly grew out of fear of Rory and Xio who were slaughtering hundreds. Lelei noticed this and helped but not the way Kaneki expected as she blasted an explosive fireball at them all, killing most of them but also destroying the barricade. Though it technically didn't matter as now the rest were too afraid to try to go that way now.

The other marauders that weren't trying to hopelessly fight Rory or Xio ran to the other Italica soldiers using each other to get over the pikes and traps in the barricades. Those that actually managed to get over were trying to ambush the Italica soldiers but were suddenly decapitated. Even Rory and Xio were shocked by this they weren't anywhere close to the marauders and whoever did it was so fast they couldn't be seen.

"Haha, it's been a while since I've been in a battle as wild as this one. Though I think this is the first battle I actually enjoyed attending." Everyone then turned to the outside of the barricades where the Italica soldiers were and saw Yōsai standing with a bloody Katana which he quickly swung the blood off of. Princess Pina was next to him who seemed dazed, it was obvious he was extremely fast in not only killing the marauders but also dragged Pina there.

Itami and Kaito were still by the MGDB-4 and were sniping down any remaining marauders. Tuka was helping and surprisingly able to keep up with them as her enchanted arrows were able to fly quickly and follow her targets ensuring that, like them, she didn't miss once. Itami was expecting this battle to go on for a while but to his shock it ended extremely quickly. In a mere 30 minutes most of the marauders were dead and those left surrendered out of overwhelming fear.

Though that was just the marauders on the ground those still outside of Italica were unaware of what happened and planned on flooding in to ambush them. Then there were those that were those on the wall firing arrows or throwing knives at them. Itami quickly tried to protect Tuka, but Kaito beat him to the punch and hid her behind the MGDB-4. Kaneki used his own body to cover Lelei, which got him hit by all the arrows. Xio actually did the same with Rory, and so did Yōsai with Pina, actually making her blush as a result. 

Though unsurprisingly the arrows did nothing to any of them as their armor was already bullet proof. Though Itami wasn't convinced hence why he panicked despite the arrows bouncing off his armor. Itami and the marauders on the gate were shocked by this thought for the marauders their problems had only begun. 

Kuribayashi was the first of the others to get there, she quickly started punching through them or hitting them with the butt of her rifle. They tried hitting her with arrows or stabbing her with their swords but it all either bounced off or broke without leaving so much as a scratch on her armor. As soon as Kuribayashi noticed this she smiled and continued to rampage through the marauders. With her bulletproof armor and near indestructible gun she was unstoppable and could rampage as much as she wanted. MTF High Commander Yōsai let go of Pina and as he did, he saw Kuribayashi taking down the marauders on the wall all by herself.

"Huh, and here I thought she was a whining brat that only ever complained. Perhaps I've been a little too harsh on her." Suddenly a SFH-2 ″Raven" flew by with its incredible speed, Yōsai knew what this meant and quickly picked up Pina to her shock.

"Ah! They arrived just in time! Apologizes your majesty, but you're going to want to see this!" Yōsai then used his incredible speed to rush towards the wall, up the stairs, and onto the ledge. Finally, he let Princess Pina down where she was still a little dizzy. When her vision finally cleared, she saw on the outside of Italica walls an army of hundreds of marauders. However, they weren't focused on getting inside the city anymore, instead they were focused on Raven. Princess Pina looked at it as well and was shocked to see such a creature if that's what it even was.

"Is... Is that a Wyvern?"

"Hahaha, no, something much worse." Suddenly three objects dropped from the Raven and it flew away as its job was done. The three objects revealed themselves to be three red giants. They all had crimson red armor and stood taller than any man in she knew or will know. They looked a little similar yet were completely different from one another.

One was skinny looking and had what looked to be a cat tail and cat ears. Another had a kakugasa, with his armor greatly resembling samurai armor and with a hilt that looked abnormally large to be for a single blade. The last one looked more like a large robotic angel with large mechanical bird wings on its back. 

"What... what are those things?!"

"They are Mobile Task Force Alpha-1 "Red Right Hand", courtesy of the Foundation." Pina looked to Yōsai in shock, she knew Yōsai was holding back information about the nature of the Foundation, but she wasn't expecting it to be anywhere near to this degree. Suddenly the three stood up and in response the leader of the marauders ordered everyone to attack them. The Cat Alpha-1 unit was the first to attack, she unleashed her claws and sliced through the marauders, easily ripping them apart. The Samurai Alpha-1 unit grabbed a large Katana hilt and placed it on his hilt after he pulled it out. The hilt was attached to a large katana shaped superheated chainsaw. He quickly slashed through as many marauders as he could, quickly cutting all who were unfortunately in his path, leaving nothing but pieces of burnt corpses. Then the last one unleashed his wings and flew into the air. he flew towards the marauders farthest away and started shooting at them with his assault rifle arm bracelets. As for those he didn't hit, he flew just low enough to allow his wings to slice through them at high speed. 

One of the marauders had tears in their eyes as they quickly lost all hope, they fell to their knees and begged for mercy as they could do nothing else. The Cat Alpha-1 unit noticed this and simply walked past him and slaughtered other marauders. The few survivors were able to notice this and quickly fell to the ground in surrender hoping their comrades would do the same while they could. After about 5 minutes the battle was finally over and of the hundreds of marauders from before, now there were only about thirty, all on the ground in surrender. 

"Monsters... All three of them hold a unique terror. Like the legendary ancient dragons." Pina was so shocked she forgot about Yōsai who heard what she said and was now in deep thought because of it. 

"Hm, that actually makes me wonder, Xio and Itami's squads together were able to hold back the Fire Dragon. I wonder if a single Alpha-1 unit could take them down." Princess Pina again looked to Yōsai in shock, but she then looked back to the Alpha-1 units which were seemingly stationary. I knew they weren't mercenaries, she thought to herself, if I had to guess they're probably an empire and most likely... the same one that conquered Alnus Hill. We can't make enemies out of them; I'll have to beg them to forgive the empire for its previous two attacks as well as the assault of the alliance. I might have to bow my head, but... Suddenly the Cat Alpha-1 unit stared at Pina spooking her, to which Yōsai laughed.

"Haha! It looks like Neko might like you!"

"Neko?"

"She's a member of the Japanese Division of Alpha-1. Probably the strongest might I add."

"Division?! As in there's more than one group of Alpha-1 units! More than three?!"

"More than three? This is just a squad, your majesty, we have at least a hundred Alpha-1 units. Though of course that's just Alpha-1 we have nearly thousands of different Mobile Task Forces all filled with either tens or thousands of units." Pina then froze in shock which actually concerned Yōsai. Oops... perhaps I said too much, he thought, but then again if she's going to be one of our inside people for the Empire then it might be good to let her know as much as she can. 

***

With the battle over Princess Pina and her court of Italica met with the Foundation at the capital of the city. There MTF High Commander Yōsai along with Captain Xio, Itami, and a few others form Xio's unit and Sigma-66. Though Kaneki, Kaito, Rory, Lelei, and Tuka weren't there as they were instead currently trading the wyvern scales with a local merchant. Pina was filled with dread as she knew they had no power to demand anything from the Foundation but still as a princess of the Empire she had to at least try to establish some dominance here. Now was no longer a battle of weapons and blood, now was a battle of words and wits.

"Ahem, first off on behalf of the Empire we'd like to thank the Mercenary group known as the Ess-Cee-Pee Foundation for saving Italica, surely songs and stories will be told of your exploits for generations." Yōsai and Xio looked at one another, though neither of them was afraid as soon the misunderstanding would be cleared. 

"But first things first, let us discuss the spoils of war, first off I understand as the victors all weapons and resources obtained are yours, however we would like to request possession of the prisoners."

"Actually, it's perfectly fine if you take the marauders' stuff as well as imprison them, though we would like to request possession of at least 5 of them for intel gathering. Besides that, do whatever you want with them." Pina was confused that they would only request five prisoners, but she shook it out of her head for now. Itami and his group were shocked at how Yōsai was willing to let the empire just do what they wanted to war with poisoners.

"Actually, Princess Pina, there's something more pressing we need to discuss." Pina gulped in fear as she really didn't like the sound of that at all. 

"As you said people will most likely begin talking about the Foundation and the amazing things it can accomplish, however we can't allow that." Everyone on Pina's side tensed up as this almost sounded like a declaration of war. 

"Please be at ease, I can hear your heart beating in fear. Actually, it might bring more confusion if I keep talking about it, so how about we just show you the contract." Yōsai turned to Kaneki who walked up to Hamilton, one of Pina's knights, and handed her a Foundation Computer Screen Pad. She was confused on how it worked and tried to understand it which almost led her to breaking it, so Kaneki had to quickly take it back. Instead, he just stood in front of Pina and held it up for her to read. 

***

Document of Agreement: SCP Foundation and Saderan Empire

- The Foundation is allowed to take any 5 Captives form this battle. Their property, rights, and treatment are now under the jurisdiction of the Foundation and the Empire has no right to interject lest this contract be void. 

- The City of Italica is to be recognized as a Trading Port for the Foundation allowing Foundation staff to enter and leave without restriction. Class G Personnel who enter are to be treated as VIP's and never harmed by Imperial forces. 

- Blood samples are to be regularly taken from civilians. The purpose being to understand if Amnestic treatment will have any negative effects besides memory loss. 

- The Empire is to remain silent of all Foundation activity and actively assist the Foundation in ensuring that the public never knows the Foundation exists. 

- Failure to meet any of the agreements above will lead to the termination of the Imperial family and the swift replacement with a new emperor. This time, one more loyal to the Foundation and its dedication to the remaining in the shadows. 

Please write your signature here

X________________________________

***

Pina was wide eyed in shock; she could barely understand what most of it was saying but the parts she did understand nearly gave her a heart attack. This was not the worst-case scenario she was expecting but she could definitely tell it wasn't better. From what she could understand, she was being asked to essentially erase everything that happened today from history yet still allow the Foundation to come and go as they please. Furthermore, if she didn't do this, they wouldn't hesitate to wipe out the imperial family and replace them with puppets for the Foundation. At this point Pina thought that Italica being bled dry of its treasures, being turned into Foundation territory, or heck many the enslavement of herself and the people of Italica was a mercy compared to this. 

Still, she knew she couldn't say no; if she ever tried to, there was nothing to stop those monsters in red armor from destroying everything she held dear. She saw what they were capable of killing an entire army in mere moments and with such violent efficiency. Pina swallowed her pride and raised her pen but then Kaneki quickly panicked and raised the pad away from her. After carefully explaining, Pina just pressed her finger on the signature line and with her fingerprint the agreement was set. 

***

With the agreement set; Pina, her escorts, and the other representatives of Italica waved the Foundation goodbye as they left the city. Everyone was cheering though Pina and her closest escorts like Hamilton and Grey knew the truth. Even if they wore no collars, even if they were not bound by chains, even if they won the spoils of the war; as of this moment, they were slaves of the Foundation. Pina was still a princess of the Empire but now she was going to have to do whatever the Foundation told her to, meaning she might have to directly challenge her father the emperor. 

"Princess? What should we do?"

"Hm, gather the people and ensure no one speaks of what happened today, tell them it's an imperial order, bribe them, anything."

"Princess there no way we can-"

"You think I don't know that?! Of course, it's an impossible task but we must try! If we don't the Empire will be doomed! You saw how efficient a few soldiers in black were not to mention... those monsters in red. with just one they could wipe out the Empire within a week. No, possibly in less time." Grey and Hamilton looked at Pina in fear, she noticed this and managed to calm down because of it. 

"You're afraid? Good! Consider that the motivation you need to get this task done! As of this moment the Foundation that claimed Alnus Hill doesn't exist! In fact, Alnus Hill doesn't exist either! It never did! I don't know how I'll get the rest of the Imperial court to comply without revealing the Foundation, but I will get it done if it's the last thing I do!" Suddenly gun shots could be heard in the distance. Pina was confused and got Grey's telescope and looked out only to see Foundation soldiers fighting against her Rose Order of Knights. 

"... oh gods... we're all going to die."

.

Part 7

Part 5

.

Tales: Gate

[bbyheedeungie]

Fluttering Machinery | Robot! Sunghoon AU

Genre: Fluff, mild angst

Pairings: Robot! Sunghoon x Reader

Warnings: Character death, little suggestive content

Synopsis: Sunghoon was a humanoid built by your father, with the sole purpose of taking care of you once he passes away. But it seems like taking care of you came with discovering emotions that wasn't necessary for cooking, cleaning, and keeping you safe. What is this warm fuzzy feeling that resonates deep inside Sunghoon's mechanism?

It's been months. 6 dreadful months since your father has passed away. The doctors have warned you that he didn't have much time left, but that didn't make the goodbyes hurt any less.

You were 4 years old when your mom left you and your father for another guy. A more successful guy. Your father was bright, with an insatiable hunger for discovery and invention. But his field of work didn't always bring food to the table. And so on most days you had to, well, compromise.

But you loved your father so much, and still do. Although you didn't grow up to be a scientist like him, you knew the basics on automation and robotics. You were 11 years old when you first saw it, the humanoid that he worked on for years came to life before your own very eyes.

He had no skin nor face that made him look human yet. Just a chunk of metal with a head, arms and legs that moved mechanically. Nevertheless, you will never forget the joy and pride in your fathers' face as he watched his creation. The humanoid was a work in progress and you knew one day he's going to change the world. Unbeknownst to you, he was going to change your world.

And now here you are, years into the present as you stood infront of the humanoid who had his eyes shut. Yep, he's a he now. He is Humanoid SH-1282. Your father made him for the purpose of serving the community, to help people. But when he discovered his illness, he started making alterations to his design. He made SH-1282 to serve as the perfect companion, but only to you.

He filled the humanoid's hard drive with everything that he'll need to help you and take care of you. He input cooking, cleaning, and even martial arts. You sighed, remembering your father's last words.

"I'm gonna leave him in your care now, err leave you in his care or whatever. Take good care of each other okay? I love you both so much."

You were such a crybaby, holding on to your father's arm as the nurses were ushering you to wait outside because the doctors are about to perform surgery.

"You'll be okay." Your father mouthed as he smiled knowingly in content.

You reach for the humanoid's neck to find the power button, finally deciding to activate him after holding it off for months.

You held your breath as his eyes open, immediately scanning his surroundings. His eyes land on you, a smile forms on his lips.

"Hi, I'm SH-1282. It's nice to finally meet you, Y/N." He said naturally, offering his hand. If you didn't know any better, you would think he was a normal boy.

You let out a shaky breath as you accept his hand. He frowns, it seems like he is studying your facial expression and posture.

"You seem like you are in distress. Are you alright?" He asks in concern.

"Yeah, I am." You reply weakly.

"Will a hug improve your mood?" He asks. He was programmed to know about the benefits of physical intimacy, but he was also programmed to know consent and so he will not do anything unless you want to.

You contemplated, biting your lip.

"No, thank you." He simply nods, stepping out of his charging port.

"Will you show me around the house?" He asks and you nod.

"Damn this feels so awkward." You think to yourself.

"So here's the living room." You say as SH-1282 takes a good look around the area, his eyes falling to the dirty coffee table with tons of papers stacked messily. The couch looked greasy, with breadcrumbs stuck to the sides of the couch cushions. He scrunches his nose, involuntarily adding a new emotion to his database: disgust.

And as you led him to the kitchen, this emotion intensifies as he sees the containers of Chinese takeouts and cup ramen littered around the counter. He walks to the fridge and finds it empty except for a carton of milk that you put into your cereal for breakfast.

This awakens another emotion for the humanoid, frustration. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he contemplates on what to do with the mess, aka you.

"This won't do. You have been living unhealthily which may reduce your chances of living a long life."

You scoff, "Excuse me?" He gives you a dead stare, an eyebrow raised.

"No, excuse me while I clean up all this. I'll leave you to your own devices, thank you for showing me around today." He says sassily as he goes to find where you hide your cleaning utensils. You stood there dumbfounded.

"Unbelievable." But you let him be anyway. He wasn't wrong, you've been a total mess this past few months but that was all because of the grief. You basically had no family now.

And so for the rest of the day, you lock yourself in your room and do homework. About 5pm, you hear a soft knock at your door.

"Hello, it's me. Can you spare me a minute? I have something to ask of you." You inwardly groan, not really wanting to face the humanoid.

"Can you accompany me to get groceries? I swear this will only happen one time. It is only because I am not yet accustomed to my location. But after I mentally note the directions, you won't have to come with me next time." He didn't really want to bother you, but he knew that going out by himself and getting lost will be much more bothersome for you.

"Sure thing, just let me change into— oh no, you have no other clothes. It's kinda chilly outside today." You mentally facepalm yourself. Why didn't I go shopping for men clothes first before activating him?

"That is fine, I am immune to any temperature." He says as-a-matter-of-fact. You roll your eyes.

"I know that but people will probably get suspicious to see a man walking around in a shirt and jeans when everybody else has coats on. We need you to fit in as much as possible."

You search for your father's old coat that you refused to throw away even months after he's passed.

"Sorry dad, but he kinda needs this right now." And so you dress the humanoid in your oversized university sweatshirt (which surprisingly fits him perfectly) and your father's old coat.

"How do I look? Will I fit in now?" He asks as he scans his appearance in the mirror.

"You look—" absolutely breathtaking. You had every urge to slap yourself. Your father really didn't play around when he made the humanoid's face. He could pass up as an idol. And the cute little mole on his nose was a good addition to his features that made him even more realistic.

"Great. People won't suspect a thing."

The two of you head out. Contrary to your expectations that he would marvel at everything he sees outside, he just casually looks around. You ride the bus together, and the humanoid processes everything that you do, noting how everything works.

What caught you by surprise though, is how he immediately stands up in instinct to let an old lady sit down in his place. He sure was programmed with manners and chivalry. You smiled at the thought.

You made your way inside the grocery store, only intended to grab a basket but the humanoid insisted on a push cart.

"We have so much to buy, I've taken a mental note of everything we'll need." You simply roll your eyes and let him push the cart around as you wandered behind him. You look around as he reads the nutritional facts of every single thing he sees.

"This is definitely going to take a while." You muttered.

"Y/N? Is that you?" A voice squealed. You hissed and attempted to turn away, pretending you didn't see her. The humanoid saw how you reacted and swiftly rushed to your side in a protective stance. The stranger eyes the humanoid, her eyes sparkling at the sight of such a gorgeous man.

"Why hello there. Y/N you didn't tell me you've been busy with your boyfriend, we haven't hung out in a while." Both of your eyes widened at the misunderstanding.

"Oh, no he's not— we aren't—" You tried to explain but she just laughed out loud.

"Look how flustered you are. You know what, it's okay. But we have a lot of catching up to do!" She said, squishing your cheeks in a playful manner.

"So what's your name, handsome stranger?" She asks, turning to the confused humanoid.

"I'm S—"

"Sunghoon! His name is Sunghoon." You blurted out. Sunghoon was the name of your childhood crush when you were like 7 but that'll have to do. Unfortunately, it seems that the humanoid got even more confused.

"I am Y/N's—"

"Neighbor. He lives next door to my apartment. I was just showing him around because he just recently moved into the city." You say quickly. She can't know that you're living with a guy. Even if said guy wasn't human.

"Awww how sweet of you to go shopping with your neighbor." She said, winking at you. She's definitely not convinced.

"I'm Yeonmi, Y/N's friend." She introduced, offering her hand to Sunghoon. He took her hand reluctantly.

"You mean my super obnoxious friend." You roll your eyes.

"Shut up, you love me." She teased. Admittedly, you've been avoiding her for months now. Ever since your father passed, it was as if you didn't want to deal with anyone anymore, with the fear of being left behind again. So you shut everyone out. You know it was a very selfish move and must've made everyone worry, but you have yet to figure out how to fix things back to how it is.

You said your goodbyes not without a long, tight hug from Yeonmi and Sunghoon noticed from his scanners how your vitals greatly improved from it. This made him feel another new emotion: relief. He was very thankful for your friend who made you feel better.

You continue venturing down the aisle of food, and you find the humanoid smiling to himself. He notices your attention on him and he shakes his head, as if shrugging his thoughts off.

"What?" You asked.

"You gave me a name. Although I'm unsure if it is necessary, thank you." He says genuinely as he smiles at you, your heart skipping a beat.

"You're welcome, Sunghoon." You smiled back.

He picked up lots of fruits and vegetables, with you whining the whole time. Your whines unlocked another emotion of his; annoyance.

"No wonder her father thought she is in need of taking care of, she acts like a child." He concludes, running his fingers through his hair as he lets you get an ice cream of your choice. Oddly, seeing a bright smile on your face as you show him what flavor you got seems to put him at ease.

The two of you got home at dawn, with quickly stacking up the groceries into the cabinets and fridge, with you slumping down on the now squeaky clean couch.

It had been quite a long day and you found yourself dozing off. You woke up from the light tap on your shoulder, eyes fixating on Sunghoon with your apron wrapped around his torso.

"I could get used to this." You thought, admiring how adorable the humanoid looked but quickly pushing the thoughts away.

"Sorry to wake you, it's time for dinner." He announces and you lazily nodded, not before yawning and stretching your arms.

"Uhh, what is this?" You asked, eyeing your plate.

"It's your dinner." He says nonchalantly, expecting you to start eating. Your face shows utter disgust at the plate of vegetables.

"Please don't make me eat that." You begged. Sunghoon rolls his eyes; a trait he adapted from spending just a day with you.

"Don't be dramatic, vegetables are good for you." He states, taking the plate from you and attempting to feed you.

"Come on, say ah." He says playfully. After realizing how much you acted like a child, he researched on how to take care of children and downloaded it into his database. You scrunch your nose, leaning away from the food and shooting him a glare.

"Sunghoon, I'm not a kid." You deadpanned.

"Oh, but you won't get your ice cream if you don't eat this." He says, pouting at you teasingly. He's really good at this. With a sigh, you open wide and allow him to feed you.

"Yep, definitely a kid." He thinks to himself as he smiles in satisfaction, another emotion unlocked.

That night, you decided to move his charging port (with his help) from the lab into the spare room of the apartment.

"You know, I'm completely okay with staying at the lab." He reasoned but you quickly hush him.

"Nope. That is no way to treat a person. You deserve your own room, okay? A room that you can fill with your own stuff and decorate with your own preferences. End of discussion." You sassed as you fix his charging port into place. Sunghoon blinked at you, unable to express how grateful he is of how kind you are to him.

"She wants to treat me like a real human being." He thinks, his mechanical heart overwhelmed with gratitude.

Days went on with a routine, with him cleaning all day and you attending online classes. There were occasional bumps in the road, with you getting annoyed with how much of a neat freak he is and him getting irritated with how lazy you are at taking care of yourself. You've also taught him how to watch tv, deciding not to let him use the internet yet because he might gain too much unnecessary information online.

And so on a saturday night, you sat together on the couch as you watched figure skating competitions. Sunghoon was at complete awe the whole time, studying how the skaters moved through the ice.

"I want to skate too." He states absentmindedly, attention still on the television. You smiled, thinking how it was the first time he actually said he wanted something.

"Then let's do it, let's go skating tomorrow." You say, his head immediately shot to you.

"What, really?" Sunghoon asks in disbelief, his eyes widening.

"Yes, really. Although I'm warning you, I don't know how to skate." You laughed, with him chuckling as well.

"Then we'll learn together." He promises.

What a total lie that is. He didn't need to learn, as you watched him move swiftly against the ice, the wind in his hair as he circled around, his focused eyes twinkling in the fairy lights. He looked ethereal. You could have sworn there were tears there as you cheered him on like a proud momma. Ah, they grew up so fast.

People at the park also stopped to watch Sunghoon, whispering about how talented the young man is. His eyes caught yours, and you weren't sure if you were seeing things but you thought you saw him send you a wink and smile.

"The TV been teaching him things." You muttered, blushing but not from the cold. Sunghoon skates towards you, pulling you with him. You're eyes widened in fear.

"N-no Sunghoon I can't—" but he was already leading you through the ice, eyes never leaving yours.

"You can." He whispers, taking you by the waist as he spun you around. You giddily laughed as you threw your arms out, savouring the chilly air. You didn't even notice the people watching and cooing at you as some joined in as well.

That night, Sunghoon felt something he never felt before, and you in a long time. You felt happy.

"Say aaaah~" Sunghoon said as he fed you chicken soup. You caught a cold from skating yesterday and now you're wrapped in a super cozy blanket with Sunghoon worrying about you.

"You know I can feed myself right?" You said, swallowing the food.

"I know, but I just feel responsible because I was the one who wanted to skate. You got sick because of me, and that kinda defeats my purpose because I'm supposed to be keeping you healthy." He rambled. You roll your eyes at him.

"Colds are normal, okay? Besides, I haven't had that much fun in a while. Thank you for that, Sunghoon." You say, reaching up to tussle his hair playfully. He froze, cogs in his mind unable to process as something inside him stirred, but in a pleasant way.

--

"So you dance while rubbing your body on a stranger?" Sunghoon questions, but he's not sure if he wants to know the answer. Tonight, you wore a simple black dress that teasingly showed a little bit of cleavage and a decent length of fabric that hugged tightly around your upper thighs but had a daringly high slit. Sunghoon approves and disapproves at the same time.

"Yeah, it's kinda like that. But don't worry, I won't be doing that. I'll just stay by the bar the whole time." You reassured as you struggled to put on your strappy heels. Sunghoon kneels down infront of you and helps you clasp the straps around your ankles, handling it very delicately. Your heart thumps as he looks up at you.

"Are you sure you don't want me to accompany you?" He asks for the fifth time as he follows you around the house like a puppy. You sigh, actually considering it. Although it was supposed to be a girl's night according to Yeonmi, you thought maybe having Sunghoon tag along wouldn't do harm.

But it did. It did harm to you, alright. And you wanted to harm those girls who kept on grinding their asses onto Sunghoon as slow, sexy music played. You were fuming, regretting dressing Sunghoon in such fashion that screamed big D energy. Why am I being so possessive? But then again, Sunghoon does look uncomfortable. I should go save him. Yeah, I'll do that.

"Hold my drink." You tell Yeonmi as you made your way to Sunghoon.

"You go girl! Get your man!" Yeonmi cheered drunkly.

Your train of thoughts were blurred by the alcohol as you struggled to walk straight. You had only one clear thought in mind: Sunghoon. I need to get to Sunghoon.

Sunghoon stood uncomfortably, eyeing the girls who rubbed their bossoms and derriere all over him. Is this supposed to be fun? He thinks innocently. He sees you walking towards him, swaying your hips side by side as you strode towards him like a predator.

Girls hovering around him going unnoticed as you were the only one he could see.

Stunning, beautiful. He thought.

"Hey handsome, care to dance?" You asked, pulling him to you before he could even answer. The girls spat at you, telling you to 'get in line' but you just shot them a smug look.

"Sorry ladies." Sunghoon apologized, but his smile told otherwise as he let you pull him away from them.

"You don't know how badly I wanted to get away from—" He froze in his spot as you wrap your arms around his neck, inching closer than ever before. You felt bold, but maybe that was just the alcohol in your system. And as you started moving your body against Sunghoon, you knew it wasn't just you who felt the heat. His large palms go down south, resting on your swaying hips as both of you moved to the sultry rhythm.

His mechanism was going nuts, threatening to malfunction as his sensors detected your very close proximity to him. Whatever you were playing, it was dangerous. But Sunghoon couldn't help but to want more, to desire more.

"Y/N." He whispers, and you look up at him with half lidded eyes. And damn did he find you so sexy right there, under the strobe lights. No girl in the club could ever compare.

"Home?" You suggested.

"Home." He agrees.

As you got in the cab, you immediately find yourself half straddling Sunghoon's lap as you attempt to kiss him. Luckily, Sunghoon can think clearer now and concludes that a drunk Y/N is a very horny Y/N. And though the thought that it was only the alcohol that made you want him made him feel sad, he knew it was wrong to demand such things from you.

And so with your futile attempts to get into his pants, he gently lays your head on his shoulder and hugs you to keep you still. But even that couldn't stop you from squirming to get away from his hold, trying to get some action. He chuckles as he held your hand tightly in his to prevent it from landing into his crotch.

"Now now, you have to stay put. I won't be taking advantage of your state." He scolds gently. And by the time the cab had stopped in front of the building of your apartment, you were fast asleep in Sunghoon's arms.

Times like these were when Sunghoon is glad he was made of aluminum. He scooped you up in his arms like a pillow as he walked up to your apartment. You snuggled up into his chest, looking so innocent as you soaked up his warmth. Sunghoon cooed about how adorable you are, talking to you in your sleep.

He placed you delicately on your bed, contemplating whether to change your clothes or not. He decided not to, noting how your privacy is important to you. You're too drunk and asleep to give him permission right now anyway. He took off your heels and wiped your makeup off very gently, and tucked you in properly.

Long minutes pass as he studies your face, stroking your hair softly as the corners of his mouth lift up unconsciously. He really loves taking care of you. He loves you.

This realization hits him like a truck of overwhelming emotions, but it all makes sense to him now.

"I love you, Y/N." He whispers, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead before retiring to his own room.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition. 

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.

[chichiraion]

Phos and Variegatus

You know, I'm still bummed we never saw more of Variegatus even tho I can understand why and I'm not expecting them to play a larger role now as it wouldn't make sense, but still I think she had potential and it was an interesting mirror and throwback to earlier/young Phos.

Not only Variegatus is shown to be quite naive and childish as it's probably a younger admirabilis than Acuelatus and Ventricosus but also it's presumably of a greenish color, closer to that of Og Phos.

At the same time we are shown she's called "childish" by her people, it's constantly told she doesn't have what's required to be the next ruler and it's definitely behind her predecessors in terms of performance which leads her to want to prove herself (Exact reason why she ventures to the land in the first place) which kinda reminds us of when Phos decided to go into the sea.

By this point we're also told Variegatus had lost her shell, remind you of something? Phos losing their legs of course.

She's also cheerful and forgetful and she wants to go to the moon to rescue those trapped in the moon, she's inexperienced and even with all that, despite her inexperience with the world around her she went to the land when everyone else feared it because of the tales passed down from generation to generation [This is like the 5th gen after Ventricosus]. This all is kind-of a throwback to the journey Phos did until being able to communicate with the Lunrians except that with far less heavy personal traumas and more into the self-esteem issue.

In part I'm sure this was done to showcase how much Phos has changed as Variegatus is a far cry from what Phos was once, it's like seeing a phantasm of the past but at the same time had they passed some more time together I'm sure something interesting might've come out, kinda like when Phos passed time with Antarct and found a role model [That then went incredibly wrong].

Sadly we will never see her again as Admirabilis can live up to 100 years, so they're probably around their 7th or 8th generation by now which I hope will meet Phos again as they do have an interesting perspective to offer out of the drama between the gems and the lunarians.

[viacursecasting]

The Masked Knight.

{ A Lansoni Scenario }

Grand chandeliers illuminated the extravagant ballroom, casting a warm glow upon guests donned in regal attire and ornate masks to frame their faces. It was a joyous celebration—rightly so, for the Knight of the Wind had just saved Camelot from the fatal clutches of the royal wizard. Laughter was lively. Music played with gusto. Yet despite the jubilant atmosphere...

Sonic's sigh was burdened with the weight of his leaden heart.

He almost regretted defeating Merlina, for it meant that he now felt imprisoned in the castle walls, forced to attend these gatherings for his subjects until he could figure out a way home.

As he watched his people mingle and dance the night away, he slumped back in his bejeweled throne, twirling his decorative golden mask on his finger. Though it complemented his crown, wearing it felt too restrictive, especially since he was already clad in a one-shoulder cape.

A knighted cat on the sidelines whispered to her armored comrade. "Gawain, do you think the king appears disinterested?"

"Does he?" The red echidna lifted his visor, letting out a gasp upon seeing the downcast king. "This is unacceptable! We must call in the entertainers!"

He signaled the castle aides, who immediately ushered attendees off the floor to make way for the performers.

First up was a band, but their tune did not brighten the hero's mood.

Next was a jester, but he was unable to lift the hedgehog's spirits.

Then came jugglers, mimes, comedians, and more. But one by one, they were all met with similar results.

Though Sonic gave a courteous applause after each performance, he did so absent-mindedly, staring out the arched windows for a glimpse of the evening sky, longing for the taste of freedom the wind carried.

Gawain thrust his ironclad fist into a wall out of frustration, leaving a crater. He hissed to the row of entertainers backstage. "If the next subject fails to bring joy to our king, you will all be banished!"

They cowered, the pressure too much to bear. Lest they bring that fate to the group, no one dared to step forward.

Except for one man.

He donned a mask as white as the moon, a cloak as black as the night. Glints of silver from his armor shined like the stars, his stride as confident as his tone:

"I promise that I will make my king smile."

Gawain narrowed his eyes suspiciously, letting the mysterious figure walk toward the king as Percival looked on with curiosity like the feline she was.

The masked stranger offered his palm to the hero. "May I have this dance?"

Sonic flushed. "I-I'm not sure my feet are good at anything other than running."

"It's alright," the guest reassured. "Just follow my lead."

Sonic glanced over his own shoulders, as if to make sure this person was truly referring to him, before taking his hand.

As the duo made their way to the center of the ballroom, Gawain threatened the orchestra who, after a few off-key notes, promptly began playing a melody that mirrored a camellia—soft, fleeting, yet beautiful.

The gentleman straightened his posture like a soldier at attention, slipping a hand around the hero's waist. Sonic blushed profusely as their chests nearly touched, close enough that he picked up a subtle scent of a woody, crisp cologne.

The stranger glided like a shadow across the marble floor, guiding the hedgehog as swiftly as a breeze. Never letting go, not even for a moment, he coaxed the hero into stepping, twirling, and dipping, making it look as effortless as the swing of a sword. Weightless, the pair utilized as much space as the hall had to offer, captivating every onlooker they brushed past, akin to a feather's touch.

Impressed, Sonic tried to peer through the slits in his partner's mask. "Who are you?"

The gentleman faltered, recovering in an instant. He seemed to reflect for a moment before stating, "An admirer."

An... admirer?

As Sonic pondered the newcomer's identity, he realized with a sinking feeling that it didn't really matter...

The one he truly wanted to be with was back home.

With capes billowing dreamily, they continued their waltz as violins, harps, and cellos were in perfect harmony. Sonic did his best to follow the rhythm, though he had to admit he kept getting distracted by the foreigner's well-defined muzzle, by his broad shoulders, by his graceful moves.

Although everyone was watching, Sonic felt more and more at ease, as if they were the last two beings in the kingdom. The chorus swelled, as did his heart.

Perhaps, if ever so briefly, this was home...

The hero was so lost in thought that he stumbled for a second, tripping over his own shoes, but his partner's firm embrace kept him steady.

"Sorry," Sonic chuckled nervously. "It seems like my greatest foe is coordinated footwork."

As the song came to a close, the stranger gave an amused huff. "What shall it be? Will you abandon your sword and flee?"

Sonic stiffened, blushing to his ears as he recognized the quote. "L-Lance!?"

The knight lifted his mask like a visor, revealing stunning rubies that gleamed with concern upon seeing that startled expression.

"Apologies, my king," Lancelot confessed, clutching the hero's gauntlet as if readying to kiss it. "Were you expecting someone else?"

When Sonic read that crimson gaze, full of loyalty, of devotion, of love, he found himself smiling for the first time that night.

"Yes, but"—Sonic tightened his grip, cherishing this moment to the fullest in the time they had—"I'm glad I was wrong."

[hotporridgepot]

Been There

I didn't expect the first Ghosts fic I wrote to be from Julian's perspective, but this idea struck me and I can't stop thinking about it!

I've always imagined Julian to be the first one to properly talk to the Captain about his sexuality, and this is how I think that conversation would go.

It was one of Alison's "talks" that finally did it.

All it took was a sharp hairpin turn in the conversation, a misplaced comment from Kitty and bam, there it was. Button House's worst-kept secret was sent spinning across the circular space between their group therapy chairs. Julian's suddenly reminded, as the Captain evacuates the room in what looks like shock, of a news report he'd heard when he was a kid. It was of an unexploded bomb they dug up by a church. Everyone in the area had known it was there for a while, but to actually see it out in the open was something else.

Alison looks upset. Guilty, even. She keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs and pulling her cardigan over her hands.

"I thought he was okay," she mumbles, staring at the empty space on the wall Cap floated through. "He seemed to - last time we had a talk, he seemed like he wanted to -"

"Oh it's my fault, Alison," Kitty wails, thumping her hands down on her skirts as though she's smacking herself. "I was the one who asked about everyone's favourite beau. I shouldn't have fussed so much, I'm so sorry, it's just-"

"Kitty, it's fine!" Alison holds up her hands. "It's not your fault, it's just...complicated."

Julian watches as the conversation trickles down its many paths again. "My cousin's cousin was gay," Pat's saying to a bewildered Mary. Fanny's muttering about how she had no idea, Robin couldn't seem to care less, and Humphrey's still on the other side of the room asking for a rundown on what happened.

"Do you think he's alright?" Alison says.

Julian shrugs. "Damned if I know."

But the thing is, Julian does know. And the answer is most definitely no.

It might be a bit of an absurd conversation for the rest of the ghosts, but he's different. He comes from the time of - of gaydars, of Canal Street, of "metrosexual" plastered across the front of the Daily Mirror. Of Elton. Freddie. George. Coming out was a thing when he died. To pick up the vibe from someone simply wasn't done in Robin's time, nor Mary's. Nor even Pat's, really.

"I should probably go and see where he is," Julian says, feigning nonchalance.

No one responds. Alison's already on the other side of the room, complaining to Mike about "ghost stuff". Julian thumbs toward the back wall.

"Anyone wanna - no? Just me? Alright."

It doesn't take long to find the Captain. Whenever he's in any kind of sulk he always migrates to the window in the television room, staring at the gate outside like he's expecting someone to walk through it.

Now that he's here, Julian's not sure what to say. Best to try and get on Cap's level, really. Some more personal experience sharing. Alison would be proud.

"I've been there, you know," Julian says. It makes the Captain jump, a hand clutched to his chest before he turns back around and ignores Julian. "A couple of times, actually."

Cap sighs. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"New Year's Eve, 1971," Julian goes on, sauntering into the room. He's good at this, he decides. "That was the first time. We were absolutely spangled on a fat bottle of Haig, started playing strip poker and before you know it, my second moon landing was -"

"Blast it, Julian, this isn't about sex!"

The Cap's outburst stops Julian short. He backs up, wincing a bit as the Captain turns to face him. Julian's never seen any of them except for Kitty and Thomas cry, but he reckons that this is the stoic army equivalent. There's a deep, grey heaviness in the Captain's eyes, like something's been keeping him awake for a century.

It hits Julian, with a wave of shame and embarrassment he's very much not used to, how the older ghosts must see him. While he'd definitely be on the way to retirement were he still alive, he's a baby to the likes of Fanny and the Captain. A thoughtless, boisterous, fraternity-going thrillseeker. Shit-brained Bullingdon boy.

He isn't that, though. Not anymore. He's lived past that. He's died past that.

His own escapades might have been the wrong place to start. He realises now there are much more valuable things he could be saying; now, Julian suddenly remembers the other side of it all. Because he also comes from the time of Section 28. The AIDS crisis. Newspapers talking about a "gay gene". Newspapers spitting what Julian knew even then to be pure lie and vitriol.

He knows it's a big deal that the Captain just blurted it out in what looked like a fit of adrenaline that came and went against his will. To think of all those years, every second of Cap's life and afterlife built upon this cornerstone of a secret...it tugs at something in Julian's chest. It - well, it's a rotten thing.

Cautiously, Julian steps forward until he's sat opposite the Captain on the windowsill. He mumbles a "sorry" and clears his throat.

"Gets talked about these days, you know," Julian tries. "Like that wedding that came here, remember? It's a...thing."

A lame end to the sentence, but hey ho. It is a thing now.

Then the Captain clears his own throat. "I know it's a thing," he says pompously, "but it doesn't quite feel like my thing, if you catch my drift."

Julian frowns. "Wait, so you're not gay?"

"No, of course I - see, even that word! 'Gay'. It meant something completely different in my lifetime," the Captain says, fiddling with the buttons on his coat maniacally as though he wants them to fall off. "I feel so terribly out of touch for having kept it all inside for so long, that I can't possibly reduce it to the inconsequence people make of it today. I don't quite know how to navigate any of it. If it's even worth navigating, now that there's nothing I can do with the information."

Julian nods. It's making so much sense now. Poor sod.

"We all went in different directions after uni," Julian goes on. "Well, to some extent. One of the lads I romped about with is -"

The Captain pinches the bridge of his nose. "Julian, I said this wasn't about -"

"No, no, listen! I was going to say, one of the lads is married to a man now. Another one decided it wasn't for him and never did it again."

Cap's listening now. "...And as for you?"

Julian shrugs. "S'not something I thought about much when I wasn't up to the eyeballs in booze, but I suppose I'm - oh, I'd say 90 percent for women, 10 percent for men." Cautiously, he leans forward. "See? People still talk about that, too. Working out how you feel and all that malarkey. There's not really one way to about it, if I'm honest. There's never been one way about it."

The Captain's face softens, some of the heaviness in his eyes melting away.

"It doesn't matter who knows what, mate. Just give yourself some time."

"I've got plenty of that," Cap chuckles.

The sun's high in the sky now, beating feverishly hot through the window.

"You up for a bit of volley on the green? Humphrey's been begging us to play."

The Captain looks out the window at the grass, then back to the gate. "Not now, thank you. I'll watch from up here."

"Suit yourself." Julian gets up to go, something blooming in his chest he hasn't felt since he was alive. It's been a while since he truly helped someone, he thinks, and he's proud of it. Proud of them both.

"I'm all ears whenever you want to rant for a bit," he calls back as he leaves the room. "Remember, I've been there."

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Five // Wanda Maximoff

chapter four | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter six

author’s note: dying of cramps but didn’t wanna leave y’all hanging, so enjoy! x

Taking Wanda to Blackpool was something I couldn't stop thinking about for the past three days.

I kept telling myself that I had to remain calm, not make her feel uncomfortable with my obvious attraction to her, and to give her the best day out considering she'd never been before. It wasn't anything more than a girl spending time with her soon-to-be sister-in-law, and I had to keep reminding myself that whenever I'd feel a stir of desire in my chest at the thought her pretty smile or intoxicating gaze.

My family were thrilled when they heard of my plans with Wanda. My parents were glad I was actually making an effort to get on with her, whilst my brother was excited I was becoming 'best friends', as he put it, with his fiancé. That one stung a little, the guilt pricking my insides, but I convinced myself that that was exactly what I was doing. It wasn't wrong if I didn't think of Wanda in any way but what she was. Right?

The weekend came around quickly enough, and on Saturday morning, I met with Wanda at the train station where she waiting for me with an enthusiastic smile.

"I brought my watercolours and sketchbook so I can paint what's there," she explained as we boarded the train. "I also bought a lot of pencils in case some snap. I'm gonna draw everything I see so I don't forget a single thing."

We slid into our seats and I smiled with admiration as she continued to ramble about all of the things she wanted to do today. She looked so lively when she spoke, her hands moving about frantically to express her excitement, and her lips permanently etched into a smile when she wittered on. I didn't mean to stare, but God, she looked beautiful.

"Thank you again for doing this," she finished, head turning to mine.

Now, I'd read and written many clichés of someone falling for someone else, particularly the moment they knew they were too far gone. It was hard to believe if they were true depictions of liking someone, but I liked reading and writing them.

It was now that I learnt that they were no exaggeration, for when she looked my way with a beaming smile and glowing green eyes, I knew it was too late. There was no going back for my attraction to Wanda.

"No need to thank me," I spoke slowly, surprised I could speak at all since she'd knocked the breath from my lungs. "I'm glad you're excited."

The journey was a few hours long and we made conversation the whole way. It was the longest I'd spent alone with her since meeting her and I was intrigued by everything she had to say, hanging onto every word with all of my attention. If that wasn't enough, her accent only made everything she said sound so much better. She was naturally soft-spoken, but syllables rolled off her tongue in a silky, raspy way with her accent entwined in her words. I loved it.

At one point, the topic of our families came up and I felt like my brother came up in almost every conversation I'd had with anyone who discussed family, so I took this as my opportunity to get to know hers instead.

"What's it like to have a twin?" I asked, leaning on my elbow as I watched her attentively.

She mirrored my action playfully, though answered my question. "It's just like having a normal sibling, except they're way more annoying."

I smiled, imaging just how annoying Pietro could be as a sibling.

"I love Pietro, but he's very frustrating at times," she spoke with a hint of endearment. "He constantly throws it in my face that's he's older than me by twelve minutes. As if that makes a difference."

A chuckle flew from my lips as she pouted at her own words.

"But he's also my best friend," she said with a sigh, like that fact was irritating in itself. "He knows me better than anyone and he's the easiest person for me to talk to. I don't have to hide anything from him." She paused, glancing upwards in thought. "Well, almost anything."

Pursing my lips, I wondered what she meant as she mumbled the last part, but didn't question it. Everyone was entitled to their secrets.

"So, you and your family moved to England when you were kids, right?" I tried to recall what my parents had told me of them. "From Sokovia."

"Yes, we were about..." She scrunched up her nose as she tried to remember. "Eight years old, I think?"

"Wow, that's young," I realised.

She hummed in agreement, smile fading as her eyes fell to her hands. "Yeah... I don't remember much, but there was a lot of unrest at the time. A war. It was dangerous for everyone and my parents were lucky to get us out when they did."

I frowned, knowing some of this already, but it was sadder to hear when it was coming from Wanda herself.

"Our extended family didn't make it out," she continued to explain, voice quieter. "I didn't know them much, my parents' siblings, so it's not that sad for me. Pietro, too. But it's strange to think, you know? Especially when all of your family are around with this wedding and–" She sighed, shaking her head and looking to me with an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring the mood down."

I straightened up, reassuring her instantly. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. It's okay. I... I didn't know any of that. I'm glad you told me."

She nodded, though the regret was still present in her gaze.

"I'm sorry all of that happened," I expressed honestly, not looking away. "But I'm glad you're here, if it makes a difference. You– your family are good people."

A small, appreciative smile graced her lips. "Thank you."

I shrugged, trying to brush it off so she wouldn't notice the heat rising up my neck. "It's nothing... so Sokovia. You speak Russian and English. That's pretty bloody cool."

She laughed wholeheartedly and any hint of sadness disappeared from her face, reassuring me completely. I didn't like to see her sad, especially when there was nothing I could do to make her feel better that I knew of.

"I promise to teach you some Russian today," she said with amusement. "A few words, just to diversify your vocabulary."

"Gee, thanks."

Another laugh escaped her and I chewed on my lip to contain my grin. I could get used to that sound.

—

When we reached Blackpool, Wanda was radiating with excitement. We couldn't make it two steps anywhere before she whipped out her sketchbook and began to sketch. She wasn't kidding when she said she was going to capture everything she saw.

I was patient, since the reason we came was for her, and watched as she worked. It was cute, seeing her concentrate and trying to stop dancing around with excitement every time I showed her something new.

We walked along the promenade and dipped in and out of the shops, looking at the gifts and clothes they sold. We bought a few things to commemorate the trip, but then Wanda was quick to drag me back outside so she could sketch the view of the beach from where we were stood. The grin on her face was convincing enough for me to let her drag me wherever she wanted. She looked so happy and I didn't care about anything else.

Eventually, around lunchtime, we headed to a café to have a break from all the excitement. Or rather, a break from running around. For Wanda, it was a better opportunity to sit still and sketch some more.

"So, you're drinking what, Y/N?" she asked, not looking up from her sketches as she worked.

I looked at my tea and lowered the cup. "Er, tea?"

"In Russian," she instructed.

"Oh." I cleared my throat, remembering what she taught me earlier. "Chay."

"And what's in the chay?" she asked, lifting her eyes to meet mine patiently. "The milk?"

"Moloko," I remembered, and the proud smile on her face reassured me I was correct. My shoulders relaxed as I returned her smile. "Thanks."

"You're a natural," she assured me, before looking back to her sketchbook. "I only taught you the words. You remembered it yourself. And before you know it, ty budesh' govorit' polnymi predlozheniyami na russkom."

My mouth opened with confusion, not knowing what she said. She seemed to realise as she chuckled at my expression.

"Never mind, milaya (darling)," she said with humoured eyes, before resuming her sketching.

I breathed out, taking another sip of my tea before grabbing a fork to dig into my pasta. As I chewed, I watched Wanda move her pencil effortlessly, creating lines that somehow resulted in a perfect drawing of the horizon.

"Do you only draw and paint landscapes?" I asked curiously.

"I can do portraits, too," she answered with a nod, glancing at me. "But they're never as good."

I gave her a knowing look. "I doubt that."

She merely smiled in response, eyes meeting mine for a moment, before shaking her head with amusement and looking back to her sketches. I chuckled, leaving her to it as I enjoyed my lunch and read the newspaper.

It was nice to just sit and enjoy each other's company as we did our own thing. I'd occasionally glance up to see Wanda focused on her drawing and smile, allowing myself to appreciate the sight, before looking back down to the paper and enjoying my pasta.

By the time I finished my food, as had Wanda, she straightened up and tore a page from her sketchbook. The noise pulled me from my reading and I looked up to see her holding the paper towards me.

I quirked a brow, but she simply shook the paper, signalling for me to take it. With confusion, I took it and became speechless when I saw what she'd drawn. It was me reading the paper, the exact view she must have had from being sat opposite me. It looked exactly like me, probably better since I knew I didn't look that good, and I was amazed at her talent all over again.

"You did this just now?" I asked with disbelief, looking up at her.

She shrugged and distracted herself with her pencil. "Yeah, it's not much. It's not my specialty."

I scoffed. "You're kidding. Wanda, this is amazing!"

Bashful smile on her lips, she glanced up at me. "Maybe it's the best portrait I've done. But I think that's down to my subject."

Even when she was embarrassed, she was still capable of turning the tables on me, leaving me a flustered mess. It was like her superpower. A very annoyingly cute superpower.

"That's what you look like y'know," she continued, nodding to the paper in my hand. "When you're focused on reading. You chew your lip with thought. And you get this little crease–" she pointed between her brows with a laugh, "–right here, and you seem to forget that anything else exists."

A sweet smile spread on her face as she tilted her head, watching me with intimidating eyes, very much aware of the effect her words had on me.

"You're very observant," I said, trying not to stutter, her gaze making me nervous. "Perfect skill for an artist."

She hummed in agreement, though didn't look away. "Mere artistic observation, right?"

My heart was hammering in her chest the longer she stared, especially when her words dawned on me. I'd said the exact same thing after she confronted me about picking her ring. I wondered if she could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

Just like the first time I saw her, I was at a loss for words and couldn't look away. She was compelling, beautiful and remarkable all at once.

—

"Nebo," I said, hoping it was the correct word for 'sky' in Russian, as Wanda had taught me.

She grinned. "Yes! And horizon?"

I pulled a face as I thought carefully. "Er...gorizont?"

"The student is soon to become the master," she said, and I rolled my eyes, knowing that was anything but the truth. I appreciated her encouragement though.

"Okay, before we head to the beach, we have to buy some rock," I told her, leading her to the stall on the promenade. "I got it last time and it's so good."

She furrowed her brows. "What's that?"

I smiled at her expression. "It's a sweet. Kind of like boiled sugar that's formed into a stick of, well, rock."

She didn't seem convinced. "If you say it's good, I trust you, I guess..."

I laughed, grabbing her hand and tugging her to the stall. "You'll love it."

After getting two sticks of rock for Wanda and I, we began to walk to the sand. I glanced at the brunette, wanting to see her reaction. She eyed the hard candy before attempting to bite it, a small piece breaking off at the top. Crunching on it, she scrunched her nose up.

"It's hard," she noted, swallowing the piece. "Tasty, though."

"It's better if you suck on it, love," I let her know with a hidden smile. "Tastes much better."

She did as I said, beginning to suck on the top, and seemed to enjoy it more. Giving me a thumbs up as she sucked it, I couldn't help but laugh again. She looked adorable, so I left her to it and did the same as we walked along the sand and towards the benches in the distance.

Like a child experiencing something for the first time, she began to point excitedly at Blackpool Tower and the ferris wheel in the distance and I just kept nodding along, letting her get excited because it made my heart skip a beat every time she flashed me a smile.

When we reached the benches, I was glad that today wasn't a busy day. It wasn't exactly tourist season, so the beach was scarce of anyone but residents of the town. And even then, our side of the beach was pretty empty, giving us first dibs on a bench that wasn't broken or uncomfortable.

Settling on it, Wanda pulled her legs up and sat cross-legged so she could lean on them and pull out her watercolours. I sat beside her and leaned back, inhaling the salty air and exhaling peacefully. I never had much reason to visit here apart from when my parents took my brother and I on the occasional trip, but it was nice to appreciate the sound of the ocean washing over the sand and the seagulls squawking in the sky. A big difference compared to back home.

Another silence formed between us as she painted the water ahead, and I couldn't help but glance her way, watching her pucker her lips with concentration. All she'd wanted was this and I was glad I could finally give it to her.

So she wouldn't notice, I looked away and stared out at the blue expanse of ocean before me. I should have been appreciating its beauty, but all I could think about was how it was no contest to the girl sat beside me.

"I'm really glad you brought me here today," she said out of the blue after a while, "but I wouldn't have said yes if I'd known you would be bored."

I looked to her and saw she was still preoccupied by her painting. "I'm not bored. We came here so you could see the water and find some new subjects to paint. And that's exactly what we're doing."

She sighed, looking up at me with a questioning glance.

Smiling reassuringly, I said, "I like the quiet. And I like watching you work. You look happy. It's good to see."

She tensed her jaw, stifling a smile, but her eyes said it all. She was grateful. Of course, her eyes were also very easy to get lost in, even if she didn't mean for me to. And right now, under the sun, I found myself drowning in pools of blue.

"What are you thinking?" she asked quietly, a hint of a smile on her face.

Stupidly, I felt compelled to tell her the truth. "I'm thinking about how you have really pretty eyes."

Attempting to make me flustered yet again, her favourite hobby by now I was guessing, she raised a brow teasingly. "Oh, really?"

It didn't bother me this time though, as I maintained eye contact and felt my heart swelling with adoration. "Yes. It's like you hold all the elements in a single gaze."

Her smile faded and that's when I realised what I'd said, my heart dropping to my stomach in an instant. Swallowing hard, I looked away and shook my head. An apology was waiting on the tip of my tongue when she spoke with realisation.

"It was you."

I glanced her way nervously. "What was?"

She was staring like her mind was working something out and I was the missing piece. "The letter that Y/B/N gave me last week. He wrote the exact same thing. What you just said."

My brows knitted together with confusion, then it hit me. The love letter Y/B/N wrote. The one he assured me was for his own eyes. He'd given it to her. And I'd just gone and said the exact thing he'd written on it, no doubt passing it off as is his own words.

"Th–that wasn't me," I got out, shaking my head slowly. "I didn't even know he gave you a letter, Wanda."

She continued to watch me, eyes squinting with scepticism. I swallowed hard under her gaze, trying to think of how I could come back from this. But apparently I didn't have to, because she suddenly leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine.

My mind was foggy when her fingers rested behind my neck, tugging me closer. I closed my eyes, melting at her touch, and began to kiss her back, moving my lips against hers. She was slow and gentle with me, her lips as soft as they looked and sending the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. I could have kissed her forever and been content, but my brain finally caught up to my actions and I reluctantly pulled away, stunned.

Glancing around to make sure nobody saw us – there was literally nobody here – I caught my breath and looked back to Wanda. Her eyes were drawn to my lips before they flickered to meet mine, darkened with desire.

"Why did you do that?" was all I could think to ask, and I was acutely aware of her fingers still grasping my neck, the skin burning where her tips grazed.

She licked her swollen lips, expression softening. "I think I've been falling for the wrong Y/L/N."

My lips pressed together, missing the feeling of hers against them. Never in a million years did I expect her to say something like that. I thought she'd been teasing me this whole time, but now, maybe there was truth to her actions.

"Did you really mean what you said?" she asked apprehensively.

"What?"

She swallowed. "What you said about my eyes. Did you mean it?"

Well, she'd kissed me, so there was no going back now.

I nodded, noticing the hesitance in her eyes. "Yes... you're beautiful, Wanda."

She didn't say anything and the silence was deafening. I almost wanted to run back home and pretend this never happened, but that was the cowardly side of me. The other side, the disbelieving side, wanted to stay here with her and keep living in this little bubble we'd created.

"Can I kiss you again?" she finally spoke, eyes flickering between mine for confirmation.

Not trusting myself to speak, I nodded slowly, and she didn't waste another second as she leaned in once again. This time, I wasn't so surprised, so I kissed her back quickly, trying not to think about how wrong this was. How I'd been taught that this was wrong. Because I refused to believe this was wrong, that it was a sin, when it felt so damn right.

Wanda felt right.

—

When I got home later that afternoon, I couldn't stop myself from smiling.

Wanda was all that was on my mind. Everything about her was floating around up there – the contagiousness of her smile, the brightness of her eyes, the taste of her lips. When I left this morning, I wasn't expecting to return with– well, I wasn't sure what we were, but we'd decided to give whatever this was a go.

Of course, she was still engaged to my brother, but I tried not to think about that. She made me happy and maybe in a different lifetime we could have been together, but this was the wrong lifetime which meant I'd have to make some wrong decisions, this possibly being one of them.

The guilt was still present, but the adoration I had for Wanda overpowered it. The fact that she actually liked me back was too thrilling for me to even concern myself with the lack of future this relationship would have. I just wanted to enjoy what we had whilst we had it, even if it meant being together in secret.

"So, how did your trip go?" my mum asked me when I returned, looking up from her knitting.

I stifled my grin the best I could. "It was fun. Wanda loved the seaside."

My mother seemed pleased as she smiled my way. "Y/N, that's great. You know, I'm really proud of you for making an effort with her. It means a lot to everyone."

"Mhm."

"She's going to be your sister-in-law after all," she continued knowingly, "so it's good you're spending time with her. Maybe you could do it more."

I hummed in agreement, my heart fluttering at the possibility of spending more time with Wanda. "Yeah, that could be good."

"Go on upstairs, you must be tired from the travelling," she said after a moment, noticing my distant headspace. "I'm glad you had fun today."

Wanda's smile appeared in my mind again, her lips ghosting my own. I sighed contently.

"Me, too."

[darling-i-read-it]

Ghost

Karl Heisenberg x reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: angst, death, execution, blugering heads in, smut (not to detailed)

Author’s Note: I really ended up liking this one! I hope you enjoy it as well love. I too would simply haunt the hell out of this village.

Requested: by anon, hiii!!! could u possibly do a 2 part karl heisenberg x fem!reader where Y/N used to be the young bride to be yet soon had made the rounds of having an illicit affair with the older and sarcastic bastard that was heisenberg. after being caught, she was executed and now haunts the village and heisenberg is the only one that manages to truly see her when she's haunting and there could be an explicit part but yea! thanks

Summary: the request

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

Many Years Before 2021

You didn’t really want to get married. You had been raised to believe that it was something you did so that you could live and if you didn’t you would be poor and die soon. It wasn’t the best philosophy but hey, it was what you had.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, touching your collarbones lightly as your gaze followed the dress.

“You look wonderful,” Celeste, your best friend whispered. She had been married a couple of years before you. She didn’t enjoy it. She didn’t like her husband. You imagined you wouldn’t like yours. You had met the groom to be a couple of times and he was decent enough to be a husband but you didn’t love him, that was for sure. There were so few options in the village.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” you asked, brushing your dress down.

“No, no. You look amazing.”

You nodded a bit and had to look away from yourself. You couldn’t see yourself as a bride. You didn’t want to be a bride. Well maybe one day. But not to him.

David walked into the room and looked at you. He didn’t have a reaction. He just smiled a bit, kind of annoyingly, and moved to grab a book from behind you.

“Doesn’t she look amazing David?” Celeste asked, gesturing to you. You felt kind of awkward standing there as he looked you up and down. You didn’t know what to do with your hands.

“She looks nice,” he said. You deflated a little bit but tried not to show it on your face. Celeste made it very obvious though that that was not what you tell your future wife to be. “I’ll be back for dinner at 5.” He turned and left.

You sat down on the bed, putting your head in your hands.

“I need to go for a walk,” you muttered. “Get me out of this dress Celeste.” ====

You had to make dinner but for the moment you were ignoring your responsibilities. The village, though small, still always had something new to find. You walked on the outskirts, ignoring the people as they went past and just looking around.

You walked past the castle, trying not to look up at it. For some reason you were convinced that someone would come and snatch you away if you looked too hard. You walked past it and ended up at the outer edges of town, on one of the trails.

It started to rain and you hadn’t brought a jacket. Yet you didn’t turn back. You stayed on the path that you were on, never having gone this far before. Maybe part of you was hoping it would lead you out of town completely.

“What are you doing all the way out here kitten?” A voice spoke, making you jump. You looked around, searching for the alluring playful male voice. From behind a tree a man emerged. He was wearing a long coat and hat, his hair stringy. He took off the glasses he was wearing to see you better.

“Who are you? I don’t recognize you,” you said, not sure what else to say at first. You knew everyone in town. Everyone knew everyone.

He put his hand out.

“Karl Heisenberg. Who are you? A local yeah?”

“Yes.” You shook his hand. “Y/N.” He let go of your hand and his touch trailed up to your ear, where he felt the pearl earrings you had tried on for the wedding earlier. He looked down at the ring on your finger.

“Where's your husband?” he questioned.

“I don’t have a husband,” you said, much too harshly. You shook your head a bit. “Not yet anyway.” He nodded, leaning against the tree he had just emerged from.

“It’s dangerous out here, don’t they tell you?”

“Who knows anymore? No one ever leaves,” you said. He nodded, surprised at your candor. “Except you. Or are you not from the village?”

“You have a lot of questions don’t you?” “Can you blame me? You’re the first new person I’ve met in years.” He chuckled a bit and nodded.

“I guess I can understand that.” He gestured to the ring.

“What’s the fiance like?”

“You have a lot of questions about my love life Karl.” You crossed your arms annoyed. Karl nodded a bit again.

“I like you.” The way he said it, drawled out a bit and honestly, made your stomach flutter. You panicked for a second. What was that?

“I don’t like my fiance much. But he has a lot of livestock,” you admitted. “It will help my family.” Your voice sounded ashamed as you said that.

“A girl like you can’t marry for love?”

“There’s no one that I love,” you admitted.

Karl thought about it for a second, looking at you up and down. He had met a couple of people from the village but they were usually too scared of him to stay long, or he killed them for an experiment type thing. But he liked you right off the bat.

“Would you like to see somewhere other than the village?” You thought about it for a moment. He was a strange man who you just met outside of your home. He could hurt you. Or he could help you live your life.

“I would.”

====

Karl took you to his factory. He showed you around, told you a bit about the other Lords but not much. You knew Mother Miranda obviously and he expressed his hatred for her. He was interesting and he made you laugh and feel things.

You snuck away why David went to work and went and saw Karl. He showed you more of his inventions. And he liked to hang out with you. He got lonely, not that he would ever admit it.

You sat with him one afternoon, looking at the village from the factory. It was very very faint but it was there.

“I stole this from my sister,” he said quietly, handing you a lipstick. You took it from him, holding it and twisting it to see the colors.

“For me?”

“No, it’s for me. Yes it’s for you,” he said laughing. You chuckled. You put it on your lips, rubbing it together.

“What do you think?”

“You look great.” He was leaning on the ground, holding himself up with his elbow. You were both looking out a window to nature and the village.

“Thank you very much.” You smiled sheepishly and looked down. Your eyes flashed back to him and he had moved closer to you. You hadn’t even noticed. You leaned down and kissed him.

That.

That was what it was supposed to feel like when you kissed someone.

He sat up, putting his hand on the back of your head and pushing your lips further onto his. You breathed him, you felt him as he put you on his lap.

He liked that the village was in view while he held you to him, as each layer of clothing was shredded. As he felt himself move inside of you, he knew that your fiance was in view no matter how strong. Karl felt your body shake in his hands and knew that he loved you. You loved him, you whispered to him when you were both finished.

He took off your wedding ring with his own fingers. He would make you his own one day, he swore it.

====

“What are you looking at?” Celeste asked. You snapped out of it. Your eyes had wandered in the direction of Karl’s factory, though you couldn’t really see it from there. You looked back at her.

“Lost in thought I suppose.”

“What’s that smile?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“That smile?” You shook your head.

“This is my regular smile, don’t worry about it.” Celeste looked at you for a moment longer, puzzled.

“Are you and David getting along better?” she asked. She glanced down at your bare ring finger. It had been bothering her all day.

“I suppose.”

“Where’s your ring?” The two of you were walking to the market to get some things for the week. You looked down at your finger like you hadn’t noticed it was gone.

“Must have dropped it.”

“You say that like it’s not a big deal!” she whispered, grabbing your arm. “What is going on with you? You’re gone all measures of the afternoon, you lose your ring, you have this dazed look on your face all the time-”

“Nothing is wrong with me Celeste.” You yanked your arm away. “Drop it.” She composed herself, shaking her head.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it. It’s going to get you killed.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

=====

“Look at this one,” Karl said, shoving a fun new invention in your face. You took it from him and laughed a bit.

“What does this one do?” you asked him.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. You laughed, tossing it back to him. Sometimes he just put things together and then found out what they did. It worked for him, that was for sure but someday he was bound to get hurt, you were convinced.

“I have to go back to the village. It’s almost dinner time.” You stood up, brushing your clothes off from the grime of the factory.

“You know you don’t have to go back.”

“Yes I do. Otherwise they’ll think I’ve died.”

“Is that so bad?” he weigned. He grabbed your hand but you didn’t let him hold it. You gestured to the door.

“I will see you tomorrow.”

“Your weddings tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow night. I’ll still see you.” You turned and opened the door. He wanted to call for you to come back but he was too prideful for that. He let you go down the hill with the promise that he would see you tomorrow.

The walk back was as swift as it always was. You were practically bouncing. Your mind wasn’t on your wedding, it seemed so miniscule to you now. When you stepped back into your house the ghost of a smile was still on your face.

At the sight of David at the table, the smile faded very quickly.

“David?”

“Where have you been?” Celeste was standing behind him, her arms crossed, face hard. You looked between the two of them.

“I just went for a walk,” you said but it sounded weak.

“Where have you been?” David asked again.

“You go out up to that factory every single day. You come back...with this,” Celeste said, gesturing to the mark on your neck you hadn't even noticed was there.

“I didn’t give it to you.” David said.

“Hey now,” you said, shaking your head. “I burnt myself, that’s all.”

“Do you know what happens to women who have affairs?” David asked, standing up. He grabbed your arm and held it tightly. “They don’t get married.” He threw your arm down and your eyes went wide.

“No. No no, you can’t....”

====

When you didn’t come back the next day, Karl went down to the village. He just narrowly caught the end of the execution. He didn't even think they did that anymore, let alone to you.

He found your fiance and smashed him with his hammer until David was nothing but dust.

You managed to catch the end of that death.

“Karl! Karl what are you-” You rushed up to him and grabbed his arm, only for it to go straight through him. You gasped, eyes wide. Karl turned around but he was the only one who did.

“Y/N?” He went to grab your cheek and went right through you. He shivered.

“What are you looking at, old man?!” Celeste screamed, kneeling beside David's dead body. Karl turned around and realized quickly that no one else could see you. He wasn’t sure how or why or what had happened but you were dead and he could still see you.

He smashed David's head in once more.

====

2021

“There’s someone in the village,” you said. Karl looked over at you, confused.

“Yeah, there’s always people in the village kitten.” You shook your head, eyebrows furrowed and confused.

“No, everyones been killed or hiding in their houses. There's an outsider out there,” you told him. He took a step to his window and looked down at the village, now torn and broken. You were standing beside him but he hadn’t been able to actually touch you since you had died. You floated around the village, haunting people here and there when they caught a glimpse of you, staying around Karl when he went from place to place. He was the only person to talk to you.

“Ethan Winters?”

“I think so. Granted, I can’t say I’ve ever seen him before. Should you tell Mother Miranda?”

“You’ve known me long enough to know I don’t tell Mother Miranda anything I don’t have to.” You crossed your arm.

“I guess you’re right about that. Want me to go back down and check to see where he is?” you asked. Karl nodded.

“There’s a meeting soon. I imagine it will be about him. Be back soon.”

You nodded and started to go back to the village.

“Don’t go too far,” he called. You waved him away.

“You either.”

[mediocre-writerr]

don’t let me let you go [katherine pierce]

katherine pierce x fem reader

requested: Hi! Sorry, can I request a Katherine Pierce x Fem!Reader?

Maybe where reader is a powerful being, well since demons are real in that universe, maybe a fallen angel? Or something along those lines, and they met along somewhere where Kat was still on the run, so they like hooked up but Kat promises that they'll meet again soon and makes the reader promise that they should be safe as well?

And then years later they accidentally meet up at a party, started dating and Kat is actually soft when it comes to reader. Elena and the gang barge into Katherine and Reader doing something fluffy because they were actually hunting down Katherine since they think that Reader is her next victim or whatever.

Thank you in advance!

*not my gif*

So you left.

Katerina Petrova was how you knew her. Still know her at least, she hasn’t really left your mind since then.

And that was back in 1764.

You could feel what she was. She wasn’t human and her compelling tricks made no match for you. She was arrogant like most vampires were, but she slipped past all your defenses and fell in love with her, no matter how “wrong” it was back then.

“Lady Katerina Petrova, this is Lady Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the owner of the great estate. Her family actually passed recently in a terrible sunken ship, somehow Y/N survived.” one of your noblemen introduced the two of you, after you sensed she was a vampire.

She eyed you carefully and you just smiled at her. Before whispering a ‘thank you’ to the man. The two of you embarked into a formal conversation until you were the only ones left in the room.

“So what are you?” she asked, bluntly.

You chuckled softly, intrigued by the beautiful brunette, “You don’t skip the niceties now do you?” you asked.

“Niceties aren’t my thing,” she shrugged.

“Neither are they mine.”

You were snapped out of your vivid memory when Stefan waved his hand in front of you. You shook your head and he just laughed at you.

“I think they’re here.” he whispered. You and the rest of the gang were at Mystic Falls Grill waiting for Caroline to come back to introduce you to someone who has been blackmailing and torturing them for a couple years now.

You recently moved to Mystic Falls and Stefan felt how different you were compared to everyone else. So he confronted you just like every other supernatural you’ve met in the past how many years.

From there he introduced you to the rest of the gang: annoyingly arrogant, yet good looking brother Damon, pretty blonde Caroline, supernatural hunter, yet working with supernatural beings Alaric, selfless, doesnt get enough credit witch Bonnie, and lastly, the one who looked like a split image of the one who got away Elena.

They thought you’d be a great asset to them, seeing how you can see how/when someone dies and how any supernatural being can be killed. Just one of the perks of being a fallen angel. You reluctantly agreed to help them and they want to know your take on how to kill this person named Katherine Pierce.

You lifted up your head to see her. It wasn’t Elena, you knew that for a fact. Because Elena has been here the entire time. Her hair was in looser curls nowadays and her wardrobe certainly changed as well. But it suit her, the confident bold woman you knew, wearing a black leather jacket and jeans.

Her eyes landed on yours and she remained her natural composed self, “Katherine, this is Y/N Y/L/N, she just recently moved to Mystic Falls.”

“So what are you?” she asked, bluntly.

You chuckled softly, your first conversation popping back in your brain, “You don’t skip the niceties now do you?”

“Niceties aren’t my thing.” and you could tell she’s fighting back a smile of her own.

“Neither are they mine.”

After the rest of the day of Katherine picking fights with everyone, but you. You excused yourself to the bathroom while they were pressing Katherine for what she really wants here.

Memories flashed into your kind again causing you to become lost in thought as you washed your hands.

“Goodnight Katerina. Sleep well.” you said, formally at her doorway. You were about to turn back around when she called out after you.

“Y/N, come in please,” she said.

You smiled to yourself softly, as you made your way into her room. You closed the door behind you as you sat next to her on the foot of her bed.

“Do you mind helping me take this off? The zipper’s stuck and I suppose my arms don’t reach that far back,” she suggested.

She looked at you with pleading eyes and you nodded softly. Slowly, unzipping her zipper and you did what you thought you’d never do in your life. Be bold.

You kissed the bare skin that became exposed on her back. She turned her head to look back at you and you could see the lust filling her eyes. She stood up and you followed her movement as the dress fell to the floor like a puddle.

And that’s when she turned you around, repeating the same actions you took. The only thing left on the two of you were the corsets. She cupped your cheeks ever so slightly.

“Are you sure about this?” this was probably the first time you’ve ever seen her gently and soft-spoken, “You’re a very beautiful girl Y/N, many more suitors are worthy of your love. Much more better suitors with their name and money.”

You pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, savoring in the way she tastes. The way her lips were so soft against yours, “What I’ve learned in my entire lifetime on this Earth and being a fallen angel is that falling in love with someone is falling in love with their soul. Not their money or their name, their soul.”

Yet another comforting kiss was pressed to her lips, “And I never found that. Until you, Katerina.”

You thought you were alone as you watched your hands when you could feel a presence behind you. In the mirror you could see her leaning her back against a bathroom stall.

“It’s been a while,” she spoke up and you nodded.

“A few thousand years, give or take.” you joked and she chuckled along with you.

She took a step closer to you, tucking the hair to behind your ears. You mirrored her images, following a step forward. The two of you only a breath apart.

“You kept your promise?” she asked you, moving her hands to cup your cheek. As if she was trying to memorize every little feature. From the way your eyes lit up at the sight of her or the way you were melting under her touch.

It was the morning after you and Katerina expressed your feelings for one another. In a more untraditional, intimate kind of way.

She was singing you a soft song in another language, which you’re assuming is Bulgarian. And the usual confident girl was playing with your hair, looking at your beautiful sleeping figure. She didn’t want to wake you up, but she was unsure if any of the workers were looking for you.

Then there was the fact that she had to go. She didn’t want to leave you, but earlier that night her insight told her Klaus was coming. She had to get as far away as she possibly could. So she pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered up, smiling at the girl in front of you. But then ultimately frowning when you saw the same frown on her face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

“I must go Y/N. I’ve done things, things people don’t like. And they’re coming after me, so we must part ways. For my safety and yours.” she said and you look at her with eyebrows furrowed, “I promise you Y/N, the only I want right now is to lay here with you. Compel all these people and live our immortal lives, but I need to go.”

“Katerina, no,” your voice barely above a whisper.

She kissed your forehead, then your cheeks, the top of your nose, and finally your lips, “I promise you, I’ll find you one day. We’ll be together. But you need to promise me to stay safe. I would like you to be alive and well and waiting for me when I return.”

You didn’t know where this path would lead you. Every other path looked so certain, but this one was blurry. Yet, you nodded, “I promise, I’ll wait forever for you.”

“I did. I’d wait forever for you Katerina.”

She wrapped your arms around you and you did the same, holding the slightly taller girl closer to you. Relishing in the feeling of her touch, something you haven’t felt in thousands of years.

She swayed the two of you back and forth, “How about we go to the place I’m staying at?”

“Right now?” youvasked and she just hummed in response, “Let’s go.”

It probably wasn’t the best idea for you to not answer your phone when you left or to give them a heads up that you were heading home. But the gang became worried when you didn’t come back from the bathroom and Katherine disappeared as well.

But you were fine. You were just in a state of bliss. The way the two of you were just cuddled up in bed. Your head resting on her chest as she just held you, playing with the soft strands of your hair.

You began to fall asleep as she sang you the same Bulgarian song she once sang. Your eyes closed as you focused on her heartbeat and soothing voice.

Until someone came barging in through the door. Your eyes shot back open and the gang was standing there waiting to fight. Except for Bonnie who was shocked at what she was witnessing

Katherine groaned, “Can you all just go away? She’s not in any harm, I swear.”

“Wait. How do you know each other?” Alaric asked.

You knew she would handle this so you just continued to keep lying in the spot without saying a word, “We’ve met before, long before the two of you.” she pointed at the two brother.

“So are you two a thing?” Caroline asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

And you finally spoke up, “Yeah. We promised to wait for each other until we could actually meet again.”

“But she’s an actual bitch!” Damon exclaimed.

“Maybe in your eyes, Damon. But Katerina has a strong beautiful soul who has lost many things. I’m very willing to give all my love to her.” you told them.

All of them looked skeptic like she just compelled you. Until Bonnie finally spoke up, “Whatever you do Y/N, we’ll respect your decisions,” she said and you smiled at her gratefully.

Stefan took a few steps closer, “You hurt her in any way, I will not hesitate to stake you in the heart myself.”

Katerina didn’t say anything. All she did was stare right back at Stefan, “Can you guys please go now? You’re making the room smell like some weird stench.” The gang left much to Damon’s hesitation, “Now where were we?”

You got comfortable again in her strong embrace. She smiled at you softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, as she returned to sing the Bulgarian song.

“I love you, my Katerina.” you mumbled, lazily as your eyes fell close.

So you missed the wide smile that formed onto her face and the way her whole eyes were lit up. She hugged you back, tighter than ever, “And I love you, my beautiful soul.”

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 21

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 21 - This Venerable One Will Tell You a Story (Part 3)

Yao Qianjin had quite a temperament. When she got back, she didn't even think about eating and went straight to pestering her father to inquire about Chen Bohuan. Although Chen Bohuan was already married, it was done behind closed doors. Who knew about it? Even when their marriage had been arranged, the town never knew about their relationship.

So Yao Qianjin learned that the eldest Chen son "wasn't married yet."

The county magistrate made several inquiries and found that Xiao Chen was capable, gentle-tempered, and his familial situation was good, so he sent someone to talk to the Chen family about the marriage.

Mr. Chen was filled with regret. They politely told the county magistrate they would think about it first. They closed the door and the two old people immediately started to quarrel.

Mr. Chen said: "Look what you've done! The poor scholar died early and his daughter should have mourned him for three years. If you hadn't been in such a hurry for them to get married, our son wouldn't have to regret it now! Look at what happened!"

Madam Chen was also anxious: "You're blaming me? Weren't you the one who wanted to arrange the marriage in the first place? Now there's a better option: the daughter of the county magistrate! Can. . . can Luo Xianxian compare to that?"

The two elders closed the door and quarrelled until they were red in the face. At the end of the quarrel, they were exhausted and panting across the table from each other.

Mr. Chen asked: "What should we do? Should we call back the magistrate?"

Madam Chen said: ". . . We can't do that. Our family is relying on Yao Qianjin's money."

Mr. Chen said angrily: "Then will the daughter of the Yao family be a concubine? Will she? Our son already has somebody, how can we add another? Look at how in love they are!"

". . ." Madam Chen didn't say anything for a while. Her eyes suddenly lit up, and she murmured, "If you think about Luo Xianxian and our son, except for our family, no one knows about them. . ."

After a few moments of silence, Mr. Chen was shocked when he suddenly understood his wife's intentions.

He was trembling, half from panic, half from anger.

"You - you mean. . ."

"If no one knows about it, it doesn't count as a real marriage." Madam Chen said. "Let's try to find a way to get rid of her. We can do whatever it takes. All the surrounding villages think he's unmarried. Do you remember how she stole oranges from us as a child? As long as we all stick to that story, no one would believe her word over ours!"

Mr. Chen strode to the door, confirmed that the door was closed tightly, and hurriedly rushed over. The two people who had been arguing like two chickens in a cockfight were nestled together again, quietly lowering their voices, and discussed.

Mr. Chen said: "This method of you, I'm afraid it won't work."

"What's wrong?"

"Our son won't agree. He's had a crush on Luo Xianxian his whole life. Why would he agree to drive her away for someone else?"

Madam Chen thought for a while. She patted her husband's hand and said, "Don't worry, I'll take care of it."

After a while, Madam Chen suddenly became seriously ill. It was a strange illness. The doctor couldn't explain the reason, but she just would have fits all day and talked nonsense, saying she was possessed by a ghost.

Mr. Chen was terrified so he asked a Daoist priest to come. He carried a whisk on his back and said that there was something negative in the Chen family directed at Madam Chen. If it wasn't resolved, Madam Chen wouldn't make it to the new year.

Chen Bohuan, who was the most filial, anxiously asked: "What attacked my mother?"

The Daoist priest pretended to be mysterious and hesitated for a while. He said it was a "beauty who couldn't see the light of day."

Everyone in the room froze. The Chen family's sons all turned to look at Luo Xianxian standing on the side.

Luo Xianxian also froze.

She has been told many times when she was a child that her life is cursed. She brought tragedy with her. As soon as she was born, she killed her mother, then her brother, and later her father.

Now, she was being accused again, saying that she was going to kill her mother-in-law.

The Chen family was petrified. The sons took turns telling her to leave the Chen family. Besides, no one outside the family knew that she was married and had an innocent reputation. They would give her some money and let her find another good family.

Luo Xianxian was anxious and afraid. She was really worried that she was killing Madam Chen and she couldn't control her tears.

Chen Bohuan was heartbroken. As he watched his mother grow weaker, he was caught between a rock and a hard place. He didn't want to leave Luo Xianxian, but he couldn't bear to watch his mother suffer. She had lost so much weight in such a short amount of time.

The brothers of the Chen family quit trying to be civil. One day, while their elder brother was away, they sought out their sister-in-law. Luo Xianxian was mixing butterfly fragrant powder in the greenhouse. They rushed up and knocked over her utensils. The fragrant powder fell on her. The pungent aroma seemed to instantly seep into her bones and she couldn't wash it off.

The brothers surrounded her and talked about the most important duties, such as "a woman's virtue", how a wife and daughter should be humble, parents should be respected but Luo Xianxian was very tough. Although timid, she was very stubborn. She cried and said she didn't want to leave, begging them to think of another way.

The second son of the Chen family was impatient so he went up and slapped her. He said: "You're going to kill our mother, you cursed bitch. If there was another way, would your father have died? Would your mother have died? Would your brother be dead or alive?"

As soon as he beat her, the rest of them rushed up, punching and kicking Luo Xianxian, shouting things like "get out", "vermin" and "quick fuck".

These sons had the same idea as their mother. In fact, they had known about their mother's idea for a long time. At this time, taking advantage of their elder brother's absence, they worked together to expel Luo Xianxian from the house. They threatened that if she dared to come back, they would beat her every day. She didn't have a family anyways. If she was beaten to death, no one would care.

It was a snowy night. Luo Xianxian was thrown into the snow covered in bruises and one of the embroidered shoes on her feet had fallen off.

She slowly crawled forward, a muffled choked sob escaping her lips, like the low howl of a dying cub.

It was late at night. Few people would be outside on such a snowy day. She crawled through the vast world, not knowing where she was going, not knowing where else she could go.

The Chen brothers were right.

She had no family; no father, no brother. No one to stand up for her, no one to take her in.

There was nowhere she could go in this white, awe-inspiring world.

Her bones were weak, and she was wearing thin clothes when she was thrown out, so her legs and feet quickly became numb and useless.

Crawling all the way to the outskirts of the city, she came to the earth temple where the Master of Ceremonies Ghost was enshrined. She curled up in the temple to hide from the snow. Her lips were blue and frozen, and her heart felt even colder.

Looking up at the clay statue with gorgeous red makeup, she couldn't stop the tears rolling down her face. It made her think of the rules of the Lower Cultivation World, and how a married couple should have a master of ceremonies to witness it.

At that time, all she had was a red flower hairpin, a beautiful smile and Chen Bohuan kneeling next to her.

Was this closed-door marriage all a big dream? That day, the beauty in the brass mirror was picturesque. Was it just a greedy joy that she had concocted deep in her mind?

She knelt in front of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost, dragging her increasingly heavier and cold body. She bowed three times, crying and laughing.

"Married as husband and wife. No doubt about their love. Rejoice. . . in this. . . tonight. . ."

She started to feel dizzy and her vision was getting blurry.

A thin layer of moonlight seemed to sprinkle in front of her eyes. In the small courtyard from her past, she cried and said: "I didn't steal. I didn't steal. I didn't steal the oranges."

However, three men make a tiger* and everyone was terrified. No one would believe her side of the story.

*(T/N: 三人成虎 - means that the more someone repeats something absurd, the more likely people are to believe it)

To this day, she knew that even if she ran up to every person she saw and screamed that she was Chen Bohuan's wife, no one would believe her. She was still the same little girl as back then, stuck behind the mud wall with no one to share her grievances with.

Nothing had changed.

But there was still that person, looking over the wall, holding a white steamed bun, stuffed into her palm, saying: "If you're hungry, eat a steamed bun to curb your hunger."

Now. . . that person. . . where was he. . .

When he came back and couldn't find her, would he be worried, or would he secretly breathe a sigh of relief because his mother would be safe from her?

Luo Xianxian curled up in the earth temple, eyes dripping with gradually drying tears, and whispered: "Madam Master of Ceremonies, I want to be with him. I'm his wife. . . When we came to the temple, we didn't have a master of ceremonies with us. You're a Master of Ceremonies Ghost. You can't control the living, but I. . . You're the only one I can talk to. . . and I can tell you. . ."

She whimpered in a broken voice, the last sound coming out of her throat: "I didn't lie. . ."

I didn't lie.

The heavy snow was silent, and the long night was quiet.

The next day, the townspeople who passed by the earth temple on the outskirts of the city found Luo Xianxian's cold body.

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