#ill block off like 2 tables so my floor can dry

[spaaacevodka]

customers when i mop part of the store and block it off with chairs and wet floor signs

[maplecornia]

Chapter 3

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.06K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: everytime I upload a chapter my tags increase LMAO i hope you guys are enjoying the story so far ^^ BTW when they're speaking and their words are bolded that means they're speaking in English just a heads up ;)

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne

What is he doing here?

And whose clothes do those belong to?

You mouth his name, and in his eyes, you can see the surprise turn to shame.

The sick feeling in your stomach grows bigger.

You pray that you're wrong. That for the first time in your life, your intuition isn't correct. That what you think happened was merely a misunderstanding. That he didn't do what you think he did.

You want to reassure yourself that you didn't give up your heart in vain.

That he still loves you.

But everything points to the signs.

The fact that he only wears boxers, his smooth muscled skin shining in the soft moonlight.

The pile of mixed clothes on the floor.

The look in his eyes and the ruffled mess of his hair.

Everything tells you what you already know.

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice shaking. He doesn't meet your eyes.

The sick feeling grows deeper in your chest.

"What's going on?" you repeat, your voice stronger and more severe.

Even if your heart can't stand strong, at least you can.

He opens his mouth to reply, but instead, you hear a woman's voice from the bedroom.

Your bedroom.

"Babe, who is that?" you can't seem to look away from the door that it materialized from, as he looks between it and you, unsure of what to do. As though he were the one trapped. As though he were the one who was in pain. As though he were the victim here.

Instead of the murderer.

As she comes into view in the doorway, rubbing her eyes and running her hands through her hair, you can't move. You're frozen, and the world completely disappears, a roar of static noise rising in your ears.

No.

No.

NO.

This can't be happening. Not to you. You were so careful. You were so sure. So sure that he felt the same. So sure that he was yours and yours alone. So sure that nothing would be able to break what you shared. That you had finally found the one.

However, as she looks at you, her green eyes spark with realization. Then as they quickly turn to shame, she avoids your gaze as well.

You know.

This is happening.

It's real.

And there's no turning back from it.

You can't feel yourself as you start to cry.

In the shower, the hot water clings to your skin, mixing with the tears. You lean against the tiled wall, squeezing your eyes shut, you cling to yourself. Nails digging into your flesh, you bite your lip, shaking violently.

Mixed images of his face flash through your mind unwillingly.

Hiding alone, the steam surrounding you in a thick veil of deception, you give in to the pain.

You allow the tears to come.

You allow his face to stare into yours once more. You paint the same hazelnut gaze of his eyes. You try to recall the safety you once felt when he held you in his arms. You pull pieces of the same warmth that rose in your cold body flushing your face when he smiled at you, out of the depths of your mind. You look for the tenderness reflecting in his eyes when he whispered that he loved you. You sigh as you remember the way his curly hair had felt on your skin as you ran your hands through it. You picture his perfectly sculpted face, high cheekbones, and long eyelashes. The strong jaw and full lips. The curve of his throat and the touch of his body.

The mirage holds you in its embrace, makes you forget everything, all the pain, all the hurt, the betrayal that tore your soul apart for his pleasure.

However, when it leans in to kiss you, your eyes fly open to reality, and you find yourself hugging your body, the shower still running.

Shaking your head, you proceed to clean yourself, hoping that perhaps the water could wash away the pain.

Some things weren't enough. Some things are not good to dwell over. Some things are better left locked away.

In the end, it wasn't real.

None of it was real.

Done with the shower, you turn the water off, strands of hair falling in your face, and droplets of water dripping off of your body.

Was any part you enough to keep him?

Was this body?

Was it enough to have him wait for you?

Looking down at yourself, you press your fingers against your stomach, pulling at the flesh and skin as though it would change anything.

Were you enough?

Shaking the thought out of your mind, you reach for your towel as you open the shower curtain and step out into the steamy bathroom. Flipping on the fan switch, you dry yourself off, avoiding the reflection in the mirror. You lotion your body down, before pulling on your bra and underwear. Ignoring the drips from your hair, you tug on a loose T-shirt and shorts, and shake out your head, water falling everywhere as though you were a wet dog.

Sighing, you turn to the mirror, where fog from the shower is fading, water droplets trailing down like rain and making pathways. You follow them with your eyes for a moment before, in a sudden urge, you swipe your hand across the screen, destroying their peaceful journey. What's left of your reflection.

Staring into your eyes, you can see just how tired you look. Just how worn down you are. Touching just below your eye, the dark circles under your eyes from restless nights of tears and loss of sleep stand out like a stain on your skin.

What has he done to you?

This isn't you, this isn't who you are.

What has he turned you into?

Sighing, you turn away from the mirror and pull on your robe.

Drying your hair off with your towel, you pull open the door and walk outside, your wet feet slapping on the crisp wood floor as you make your way into the living room.

You look around for any sign of Jae or Miji, but they are nowhere to be seen. Glancing over at the kitchen island, you spot a small piece of paper. Taking it into your fingers, you read the neat block letters of Jaejin's handwriting. His Korean alphabet is so structured, so neat and so straight as though it were the writing of a computer. It reads:

“Hey, I’m sorry we left, but Mijeong prepared a surprise birthday dinner for me tonight, we’ll be back later so help yourself to make dinner or whatever. Remember this is your home now too, I love you!!”

You smile at the thoughtful letter and pocket it in your robe.

You had prepared a gift for Jae today yourself, but you'd reckon you'd just give it to him later.

Turning to the room you take a deep breath before beginning to explore.

The living room is very spacious, which you prefer. The TV is elevated on the left wall from the kitchen, the couch positioned against the right wall across from the screen. In the middle of the room, there is a cute small glass coffee table with forgotten magazines and books laying on top of it. Underneath the TV there are many different bookshelves with movies, books, and magazines shelved on them. All around the apartment, there are potted plants, cute decorations, and some photographs.

Stepping onto the carpet, you dig your feet into it as though it were the warm sand on the beach.

"I would have been fine sleeping on this floor, you know. This is like heaven." You murmur to yourself, closing your eyes in content. You wait there for a moment before the soft plinks of rain begin outside, knocking you out of your stupor.

Opening your eyes, you turn to the balcony's clear screen door and press your hand against it. Gazing outside, you smile at the sight of rain against the lights of the city. Opening the door a crack, you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

After a moment, you step back inside and shut the screen door, turning to the kitchen. You pull out a pot and fill it with water before setting it on the ceramic stove and heating it. As you wait for it to boil, you pull out your phone and turn the notifications off from vibration. As soon as you do, you click on your Instagram and into the group chat you share with your friends.

Looking through, you can't help but feel a bit conflicted.

Biting your lip, your finger hovers over the message box before you quickly pull away and place your phone on the counter. Letting out a shaky breath, you swallow the lump rising dangerously in your throat before looking away.

You're sensitive today.

You knew it was going to be like this.

When you moved in the middle of high school back home, it was the same. Their lives carried on without you. They still had fun, they still had other things to do, they still had a life outside of you. Outside of you being there.

Things were different.

They were still your friends, they'll always be your friends, but they weren't the same.

Will they ever be the same?

When you hear the crackling of the boiling water, your head snaps up and you pocket the phone once more. You pull the pot off the stove and grab a mug out of one of the many cabinets in Jae's kitchen. As you set it beside the cooling water on the counter, you search his pantry for a cocoa mix. Normally you would have tea, but right after the sight of the rain, you're in the mood for something to warm you from the inside out.

Something to remind you of home.

On cold, rainy days after you and your friends would practice at the dance studio, or finish having a meal together or anything simple like that; you would hurry home and with your group, you would make them cocoa. You would start a fire and would sit with each other spending the time together, happy and complete.

The nostalgia and sadness growing too much, you are relieved when you find the hot cocoa packets. You let out a little shout of happiness and accomplishment before walking out of the pantry and dumping the contents into the cup. Setting the packet aside, you take the pot of water and carefully pour it into the cup as well. While the powder and water slowly swirl together, you rummage for a spoon before mixing it. Once you're satisfied, you sip it carefully and...

...almost burn your tongue off.

Coughing violently, you set it down and focus on putting away everything you brought out, giving it time to cool off. Once everything is done and put away, you pick up your mug, holding it to your face as you softly blow on it. Even now the smell and the warmth of it is getting rid of the chill you feel whenever you're alone.

Settling yourself amongst the blankets and pillows on the couch, you take the TV remote off of the coffee table and turn on the TV. Netflix pops up and you search for a K- drama you were watching before you left. When you find it, you press play, leaving off captions so that you can practice your Korean a bit more.

As the intro starts, you hum along to it, setting up a sort of bed so you can watch comfortably. Once it's done, you lay down, your head sinking into a pillow comfortably, and a soft gray blanket pulled over your body. You're in a position so that you can still lounge but won't spill your cocoa.

As the show begins, you mouth the words along with them. When you can't catch what they say, you're quick to rewind it and try it again until you understand. You laugh with the show, cry with it, finding yourself on an emotional roller coaster.

You've always been like this, too emotional, too easily attached, too naive. Always careful to keep yourself at a reasonable distance from anyone who could hurt you. From anyone who you couldn't handle if they left you. It takes a while for you to open yourself up to someone, and when you do, you're wholly and completely theirs.

It's a lose-lose situation.

A lose-lose way of life.

Before you know it, the cocoa is gone and the episode is almost over. Setting the mug on the coffee table, you settle back into the pillow. As you watch, your eyes grow heavy, and you drift further and further away. The last thing you see before you close them is their touching kiss before they flutter shut and you fall into a restless sleep.

Hours pass as you lie there on the couch, sleeping. The show continues to play until the question "are you still watching?" shows up on the screen as it often does when you've been watching for a while without much activity.

Once the show is off, the apartment goes silent and it seems almost empty. In the far background, there are the sounds of cars honking, the screech of tires on the pavement, even the sound of music from the billboards and clubs.

This is like home, these sounds are familiar. These are the reasons why you sleep so soundly, hugging the pillow as though it were your lifeline.

You do not wake when Mijeong and Jaejin enter the apartment. They are laughing, but as soon as they see you on the couch, fast asleep, they fall quiet, each one of them smiling softly.

They hold unimaginable compassion for you and deep love.

Mijeong immediately sets down her stuff, sliding out of her shoes and walking towards you. Tenderly, she brushes back your hair as though she were your mother taking care of you.

“She’s sound asleep.” She whispers, just as Jaejin joins her side.

“That’s not like her. She’s such a light sleeper, she would have woken up when we came home.” He replies worry reflected in his eyes. Mijeong’s smile, at his statement, fades away and she nods.

“She must be in so much pain that she wants to drown out the world around her,” Mijeong says sadly before standing up and clearing her throat.

“Let's take her to her room.” When Jaejin doesn't move, she gives him an expectant look and he jolts to attention. She hits him softly on his arm and he lets out a slight joking yelp.

"I was going to do it, I just wasn't ready yet." He whines, and she chuckles before leading the way to your room as Jaejin picks you up with strong, sure arms. Cradled in his arms as though you were a baby, he looks down at you with a tender look. He hates that he can't help you.

No one can.

He smiles how sound asleep you are now, cradled in his arms, your head resting against the crook of his neck. Mijeong, watching the encounter, smiles as well. He notices her look and his attention changes immediately from you to her in a second.

“What is it?” he asks, and she shakes her head, opening the door to your newly acclaimed bedroom.

“Nothing.” She says but a sly smile is playing at her lips, as though she’s concealing a secret. Which she is. A secret that, at that moment, she thought he would make a great father. A secret that at that moment, she wanted things with him that were far off in the future, but very real to her now.

As they walk into your room, Mijeong pulls back the covers, and Jaejin sets you down softly on the bed. Once you are out of his arms, and Mijeong pulls the covers up over your body, you settle instinctively into the soft mattress, and immediately curl up into a ball, holding tightly to one of the many pillows on your bed. They smile as they watch over you, and Jaejin presses a soft kiss on your forehead. Mijeong does the same, brushing back strands of hair on your forehead. Turning around, they share a tender look before walking out of the room and cracking the door shut behind them.

“Are you sure that she’ll be okay?” Mijeong asks as soon as the door is shut. Jaejin looks at her a bit surprised.

“Of course. Why, are you having second thoughts?” he asks before heading into the living room, Mijeong not far behind.

"No. I'm not, I just....I wish we could tell her before we do anything. She's going to wake up and we'll be gone." Mijeong explains, following him and settling on the counter. Jaejin pauses from setting the living room in order and turns to her. He takes her hand in his own and kisses her softly on the forehead before pressing his forehead to hers tenderly.

"I love you, and I wish we could have told her before we leave tomorrow, but she will be okay. She'll have the apartment, and my job at Big Hit to take over. Everything will be okay." He reassures her. Mijeong hesitates before nodding her head in agreement. Jaejin smiles, before pulling away and turning off the TV. "Besides, I'll leave her a note just like we did tonight before we take off in the morning. This is just too much of an amazing opportunity for you and for me to waste."

"I know." Mijeong answers, rocking on the counter as she swings her legs back and forth. "Not every model gets a chance to appear at Fashion Week, but Jae....she'll be all alone."

Done with ordering the room, he chuckles as he begins to make his way back to her.

"She is a grown-up you know. It’s only a few months, she can take care of herself." He says, pulling her off the counter and spinning around in the air before setting her down as she giggles and leans on him, a little dizzy.

"Don't worry," he reassures her once more before heading into their room, his voice fading as he closes the door behind him.

"Yen will be okay. She always is."

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: thanks to everyone who read! so why do you think miss Yen moved to Korea?

+

I'm going to be updating my mutuals list (because I never had it to begin with ;-;) on my navigation so if you want to be added, pls ask me ^^ thankssss

chapter 4 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

check my BTS masterlist for other BTS content

check out my masterlist for other kpop fanfics

[probskay]

434 Usher Lane, Appt. 6

A reimagining of Edgar Allen Poe’s The Fall of the House of Usher. Back when I first read the story, I found Poe’s version to be held down by the language of his day, but thought the concept was earnestly terrifying. As a result, I wrote a modern version of the story. The original story has been transcribed below.

As I stepped toward the apartment, I felt a very particular sense of sadness. It was a dilapidated and weary building, one that had seen the sorrows of a dozen years and never spoken of a single one of them. The rain gutters were falling off, a few of the windows were boarded up, and there was evidence of re-plastering in some places. There were 6 mailboxes out by the door, hanging on the wall. Apparently, anyway. Numbers 1 and 4 had fallen off, and it was clear no one was going to put them back on.

To make matters worse for this already wretched building, it was essentially isolated. Any other buildings that used to be nearby seemed to have been leveled, for something to be built in their places. Nothing was ever erected, and odds have it nothing ever will be. The closest building to this apartment is at least a block away. Why Roderick chose to keep living here despite how terrible the place is made no sense to me.

The porch of this particular building had two doors. One of those doors led into a small hallway, visible from a small window in the door, and the other led to a stairway that went up, also visible from a small window in the door. The hallway contained apartments 2, 4, and 6, leading me to believe apartments 1, 3, and 5 were upstairs. A cold breeze blew through my jacket, making it clear that I should head inside.

The small hallway was still chilly, but it at least protected me from the breeze, which was a gift. However, the air was musty and filled with dust, which couldn’t have been good for my lungs. Thus I elected to get into Rod’s home as quickly as possible.

I walked down the end of the hall to the door labelled 6. I knocked on the door and waited for Rod to answer. I held my jacket up to my face while I waited, to keep the dust out. However, after a couple minutes and two more knocks, there was no answer.

I went to the other doors and knocked on them, too, but they threw up dust as if protesting my hand rapping against them. Obviously no one had used those doors in a long while, and the rooms were unoccupied. I sighed behind my jacket, and returned to Rod’s door. I knocked on it once more, louder than before, and waited.

Moments later, Rod opened the door up.

“Ah, you’re here!” he exclaimed.

“I am,” I replied.

“Come in, come in,” he said. “God, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. High school sure has been a long time ago, huh? Even college, as a matter of fact.”

Rod led me into his house. His front room was poorly adorned, filled only with a blue love seat and a small desk with an old computer and some other device I was unfamiliar with. It must have been providing him with internet. The desk had a wooden chair seated at it.

He walked into the kitchen, which was cleaner and better furnished than the rest of the home. For one thing, there was a dining table there with 3 chairs, matching that of the one by the desk, as well as a proper refrigerator, stove, oven, and various cupboards.

“Rod, what’s up with this apartment? It’s empty and abandoned except for you. I’m honestly surprised the place hasn’t been torn down yet,” I said.

“Take a seat,” Rod said, pulling a chair out for me. “And yeah, that’s true. I’m basically squatting here. The landlord died, and the city is still looking for his most recent relatives. Or were, anyway. It’s been 4 years and they haven’t found anyone, or they gave up and haven’t bothered the place. Either way, home sweet home. This place provides for all we need, free of charge. Electricity, water, and heat. The only thing I have to get myself is food and a stable internet connection. Food is fine, I just walk up the street with a shopping cart I keep hidden behind the apartment and head to the local superstore. There’s also a prescription place in there so that I can keep Maddy medicated.” Roderick paused and looked wistful. “Or, well, so I could keep Maddy medicated.”

Madeline was Roderick’s twin sister. They were only fraternal twins, so they didn’t look too similar, but they had always been by each other’s sides. Their family was very wealthy, and the two of them lived through all of high school without either parent after they died. Rather simply, they’ve been independent for basically all of their lives.

“What happened to Maddy?” I asked.

“She got sick,” Rod began. “She has some sort of heart condition. I can’t leave her alone for too long or she might do something drastic. You know what I mean.”

I shook my head. “I’ve never heard of a heart condition that would make someone,” I put up my hands to make air quotes, “‘do something drastic.’” I cocked my head at Rod. “Are you sure she isn’t just depressed? Or anxious? There are plenty of therapists she could talk to about this. Keeping her isolated in a place like this can’t be good for her.”

Rod shook his head, looking somber again. “No, she had a heart condition. She’s dead.”

“Oh,” I responded. We both sat in silence for a few moments, heads hung low. Eventually I spoke up again. “What should we do with her?”

Rod looked back up. “Well, I tried talking to her about a last will and testament, but all she ever told me was that she never wanted to go anywhere. Now that she’s dead, I have to interpret what that means myself, and I think she wants to be buried in this house. I prepared a place a little bit in the basement, but I’ll need your help actually putting her to rest.”

I stood up in indignation. “You want to bury your sister in this abandoned old apartment? No, she deserves a proper burial, or at least to be cremated. Maddy shouldn’t just be thrown into a basement and forgotten. She was a good girl, you know this.”

Rod sighed. “She told me what she wanted.”

“She’s mentally unwell, Roderick. You can’t just take her word like that.”

“You know the ill still have will. We’re obligated to fulfill her request, even if it doesn’t make sense.”

I stepped backward, once. “I’m not following through with this.”

Rod sighed. “You can either help me with this and stay the night, catch up with me a bit, or you can just go. I don’t care which you do. To be honest, I can bury her myself. I called you here because I’ve been feeling lonely.”

I clenched my fists and stared Rod down. He made no motion to move. I sighed and let go of my hands. “Fine, Rod. I’ll help you. It’s… unfortunate that this happened. I feel awful.”

Rod stood up and put his hand on my shoulder. “Me too. Hopefully things will get better once this is all said and down. I’ll probably leave after tonight, anyway. Too many painful memories in these halls.”

I nodded.

Rod walked further into the apartment, and I followed him. He led me into a bedroom, where his sister laid on her bed, over the blankets. She was utterly still, and her cheeks were still flush with blood.

“My. She died recently, hasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Rod answered. “I called you just after I heard her last breath. I cried for a good while too. My tears are dry now, though. I just want to see this through to the end.”

I nodded. We walked over to her, and I picked her up, cradling her in my arms. She was still warm, too.

“It’s unfortunate that death plays these tricks, isn’t it? She still feels so lively.”

Rod nodded vigorously. “If I hadn’t heard her stop breathing, I would have thought she was still alive. Death isn’t kind to us.”

Rod led me out of the bedroom and into a hallway. There were two other doors and a stairway leading down. Rod went down the stairs, and I followed him. Downstairs, I saw a washing and drying machine, but not before I noticed a huge section of the wall had been pulled aside, revealing a hole behind it.

“You built Madeline a tomb,” I stated, aghast.

“Well, digging into the floor wasn’t going to work. At least this way I can seal the wall back up.” Rod pointed to a bucket of plaster he had next to the wall. “Just lean her into there, and then help me push the wall back.

I gently laid Maddy into the tomb. It felt as if she had sighed as I put her down. I shuddered at the thought. It must have been her body settling and releasing gasses from when she was alive.

I helped Roderick shove the wall back into the slot where it was meant to be. There were thin cracks on either side, and Rod took to filling them in with the plaster rather quickly.

“Plaster doesn’t seem like the right solution for this stony basement wall,” I said.

“Likely not,” Rod replied, “But it’s the best I’ve got. This place is abandoned anyway. I doubt anyone will notice or care.” Rod sniffled. “It’s what she wanted,” he finished.

He finished sealing up the wall, and kneeled in front of it for a while, silently. “I’m sorry, but could you give me a few moments alone?” He asked.

“Yes,” I replied. I walked back upstairs, and returned to sitting at the kitchen table. He returned after a few minutes as well.

“It’s going to be a night before I’ll be able to sleep again,” Rod said.

“Maybe we could pass the time watching a movie?” I suggested.

“I don’t know. I just feel awful. I don’t know if anything can really help me.”

“Let’s give it a shot anyway,” I said. I pulled out my phone and started looking through a couple apps for a suitable movie.

I found something. “Have you seen this movie?” I asked.

Rod shook his head. “I haven’t been watching many films.”

“Perfect,” I said. I turned the movie on and set my phone up so that we could watch it together.

Not even after the opening credits had finished did I hear a loud sound coming from downstairs. “Did you hear that?”

Rod chuckled to himself. “We made a mistake, friend.” He said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’ve heard those pounds many times before.” Another pound. “She’s been pounding at the door of this place for months now, desperate to escape. She’s wanted out more than you or I could ever understand, but I was scared.” The pounds continued in earnest. “I didn’t want Her to leave me alone in this wretched place. You see, it wasn’t Her who held me here, but the other way around.” Every time he referred to her, I could feel some sort of intensity behind the words. “I gave Her pills to reduce Her will to fight me and to break out of here. I had been drugging Her to keep Her in a nearly infantile state so that She may never leave me, and now I’ve done something much worse. I’ve buried Her alive in that basement. If I couldn’t have Her, no one could. Now here we are, and She rattles in Her grave to escape.”

I heard one final, deafening pound from below. I stood up in shock. “You mean to tell me that you knew she wasn’t dead, and you had me bury her anyway?”

“She’ll be here any moment now,” he replied.

I picked up my phone and stepped away from him, and toward the exit. “You mean she’s-” I didn’t finish my thought, as she was standing in the doorway. Her clothing was bloodied and covered in stone and dust, as were her arms similarly bruised and bloodied. Stone jutted out of various wounds in her body, but she simply stared at us with an intensity I never knew nor could ever know. There were bags under her eyes and bruises on her nose and forehead that made me shiver in their utter grotesqueness.

I stumbled backward as Roderick laughed, his mind broken, and Madeline jumped atop of him and began to strangle him with her beaten and broken arms. His cackling was replaced by death rattles as she crushed his windpipe with her bare hands.

I turned heel and fled that building, plowing through doors and rushing back to my car.

I jammed my keys into the ignition and turned them. The car failed to start twice, during which I heard a scream so inhuman that I could never attempt to describe it again. On the third attempt, my car started and I sped away from there faster than I had ever driven before.

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 37: Weezer - Part 2

Kilo struggles to his feet at the bottom of a hole that did not exist ten seconds ago. Toto watches him from the rim of the hole, smiling easily without any hint of malice. 

The enemy rubs his eyebrow with a spidery finger and explains, “Five years ago, yeah? There was an accident,” he says, as if sitting across from Kilo in a bar booth, “They was setting up some sort of overhead sound system or whatever, and they ended up droppin’ a couple tons of equipment from the ceiling. Made a hole in the floor. Right here, dig? The convention centre administrators were too cheap to fix it right, so they just covered the hole with plaster. Came back to bite ‘em in the ass though, cause eventually that hole opened up into a sinkhole that swallowed up six people!”  

Kilo glares up at him as he chuckles, continuing his lackadaisical monologue. “Moral of the story? It all comes back to you. No matter how deep you bury ‘em, every misfortune stacks up, until it blows up in yo’ face. My WEEZER… is just what ignites it. I told ya, you’d only get one chance to walk.”

By the time he’s finished, Kilo is back on his feet, not appearing the least bit intimidated. “I don’t give a shit,” he declares, then SATURN BARZ drives its taloned fingers into the wall of the pit. The Stand gouges a cleft of dry rock from the wall, and the wall begins to bubble and froth, turning into a thick, gravelly sludge. This effect extends upwards, reaching the rim of the pit. 

“Whuh--?” Toto says, as the ground he’s standing dissolves into a sheer mudslide, and his feet are caught up in the muck. He bolts upright, flailing his arms to keep his balance.

But while he focuses on this, Kilo ascends from the hole, having been raised up by SATURN BARZ. He grabs a fistful of Toto’s hoodie and pulls himself forward. Toto is pulled in the opposite direction, losing his balance and tumbling forward into his own pit trap. Kilo lands on the edge of the hole in a crouch at the same moment Toto hits the bottom, standing submerged up to his waist in liquid concrete. With a swift whirl of its hands, SATURN BARZ reverts the mudslide back into solid concrete, trapping his opponent in solid stone.

“Uhh--” Toto utters, not entirely sure what has just happened to him.

“Some nightmare!” Kilo taunts at him, “Damn. And here I was expecting a challenge outta you. What a joke!”

Before the Congregation assassin can say anything back, Kilo gets up and walks away, amidst a Convention floor in various stages of agony. Upwards of 300 people roll around groaning in pain, while others, unaffected, either run about or stand struck dumb, helpless among the sudden horror. 

“Jesus…” he mutters, rushing to attend to Moya. The cold sweat that formed on her flesh as a result of WEEZER’s touch has now developed into a corpse-like pallor that’s turned her bronze skin to a sickly gray. “What the hell’s happening to you?” he asks, kneeling to help her up.

“I-it’s Toto’s ability…” she answers after a brief coughing fit and spitting an absurd volume of green mucus. Her voice is scratchy, and her breath is short and shallow, but she takes his hand nonetheless, and drapes her over his shoulders.

Kilo places the back of his hand on her forehead, then pulls it back quickly. “You’re burning up! What ability could do this?!”

“It’s pneumonia…!” she asserts, “Ough, when I was 10, I caught pneumonia after staying out in the rain…! Abuela said not to stay out so long, but I didn’t listen… Agh, doesn’t matter!! Whatever it is, Toto was the one that caused this! I’ve never worked with him before, but… the ability must revive illnesses from your past to harm you in the present…!”

Kilo glances around the convention hall once more, then nods in agreement. “Sure. But what about the sinkhole?”

“Buildings can be damaged, too. And Hotel California demonstrated how a structure can have its own history and will.”

“Right. Alright…” he is quiet for a moment, then he carries her to a nearby column and sits her down against it. “Hang tight,” he says, starting back towards the pit, “I’m gonna finish that muthafucka off.”

“Wait!” Moya cries out, straining her voice. “You need to be cautious! I-if he touches you, then you’ll be caught in his ability too!” 

A grin spreads across Kilo’s lips. “Worst I ever got was a cold when I was 6! His ability might be hot shit if you had something bad like you did, but it’ll take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me! Not to mention, he’s enough of a scrub to get himself caught in his own trap! Asshole’s dead-meat already!” He says this as he reaches the rim of the pit, but finds thats Toto is no longer trapped in the concrete.

Right as he begins to search for him, Toto reveals himself, speaking from behind Kilo. “It’s rude to talk ‘bout people behind their backs,” he declares, brushing loose gravel off him, “But, I guess, I got nobody to blame but myself, yeah?”

Kilo and SATURN BARZ whirls around towards their enemy, the Stand forming a spear of solidified oxygen in its hand. It jabs the impromptu icicle at Toto’s throat, but he dodges to the side with a lazy grin on his face. WEEZER manifests in front of him, and reaches for SATURN BARZ with the same blinding speed it showed to WITCH MOUNTAIN. But Kilo is ready, as just before the mangled enemy Stand grabs a hold of his throat, the ice spear suddenly explodes into frigged shrapnel right in Toto’s face. 

The Congregation assassin winces as the icy shards pelt him over his body. “AHH!! Damn, that hurts!!” he yelps, and in that moment of distraction, SATURN BARZ lunges for him, claws aimed at his face. Toto gathers himself and sways back with footwork that would make Muhammad Ali proud, and WEEZER jerks a knuckle to the ground.

Kilo’s foot falls in the exact spot where WEEZER touched, and the ground beneath it gives way, opening into another hole, smaller than the first and shallower, only going halfway up his calf. He drops and lands flat-footed. He groans as pangs of pain run up his leg. 

“Guess two sinkholes was too good to be true,” Toto says before WEEZER lurches into a new attack. 

“Don’t let him touch you!” Moya shouts, watching all of this from her pillar. 

With a swift backhand swipe, SATURN BARZ bats WEEZER’s hands out of the way. Toto grunts as heavy ice begins to form on his Stand’s hand and the biting cold effect transfers over to himself. In the meantime, Kilo steps out of the pit trap and puts distance between him and his opponent. 

Toto raises an eyebrow at him. “What was it you said? ‘Take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me’. If you ain’t scared of what my WEEZER can do, how come you standing so far away?” 

“I’m not scared. But I’m not stupid either and I know you Congregation pricks are full of dirty tricks.”

The Congregation assassin laughs. “Heheheh… That’s pretty smart… Or it would be, if touching you was the only way WEEZER could hurt you.”

WEEZER’s hand flex suddenly, its fingers spreading and shattering the frost forming on its hand. It then launches its entire body in Kilo’s direction with a piercing screech. “BIIISHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…”

“Shi--!!” Kilo says, raising SATURN BARZ to guard, but to his surprise, WEEZER sails right over his head and slams its palm into the wide window behind him. Then the glass begins to shudder and vibrate violently, before WEEZER peels away from it, and the window explodes inwards, showering Kilo with a hail of glass. 

“AAGH!” he yells, and SATURN BARZ tries to shield its user from the oncoming barrage of glass, but is unable to get them all, as thick shards pierce Kilo in his arm, ribs and thigh.

“That one was an accident too,” Toto calls, “Tropical storm hit Anaheim about ten years ago, tore up a tree that broke a window. Nobody got hurt that time, though!” 

Kilo winces as SATURN BARZ dissolves the glass into liquid and his wounds close up into red marks. “Shit!” he thinks, “It’s like his Stand can do anything he wants it to! Even if I don’t let him touch me, if I keep letting him make all the moves, I’m a dead man! There’s gotta be something I can use!!”

He searches with his eyes frantically around the convention hall, hunting for something to gain an advantage over this seemingly impossible enemy. Toto seems perfectly content to simply watch him, hands in his pockets, without a care in the world. Kilo grinds his teeth and scowls at him.

“Hey, come ooon, what’s that look for? I already gave you a chance, and you didn’t take it. Don’t blame me for your mistakes~…”

Kilo answers with a flick of the wrist from SATURN BARZ, firing shards of solidified water vapor at his opponent. The assassin dodges, then dodges the next batch, and keeps up with Kilo when he starts running down the hall, leaping over afflicted guests and tearing through convention booths.

SATURN BARZ keeps up the attack the whole time, flinging at Toto with frozen projectiles. WEEZER blocks them all with its unmitigated speed, its jaw hanging loose from its skull swinging to and fro with every staccato motion. 

Kilo vaults onto a table and SATURN BARZ takes its Olympian stance, forming a great ice javelin in its palm and hurling it at its enemy. It is the same kind as before, set with opposing impulses within its structure so it may explode into a smokescreen, even if WEEZER deflects it. But WEEZER does not deflect it.

Instead, it jerks its right foot underneath a convention guest with angry red spots growing on his face. The unfortunate guest’s body lifts off the ground and WEEZER catches him by the back of his neck, holding him in front of its master. The guest’s eyes clear up for long enough to see the ice spear fly at him before it impales him through his shoulder. He loses consciousness when the spear explodes, turning his wound into a bloody cavity you could see through. Toto is left completely unscathed.

“What… What the fuck did you do?!” Kilo shouts, staring in shock and disgust.

“What did I do? I… protected myself from your attack. What’s it look like?” WEEZER grips its human shield by the neck then tosses it at Kilo, who dives from the table to catch him. When he does, the diseased Stand appears and lunges for him.

“First he uses this guy as a shield, now as a distraction!? This bastard…!!” Kilo thinks. Before WEEZER can lay its mottled hands on him, SATURN BARZ strikes out with a kick to its gut that knocks the wind out of Toto. Kilo then rolls out of its range, clutching the guest’s body.

“You son of a bitch…!” he snarls while SATURN BARZ closes the unconscious guest’s wound, “What’s the matter with you!?! How can you involve innocent people like this?!!”

Toto, as ever, treats his words like a joke, laughing softly. “Haha… It’s just bad luck. It ain’t my fault, and it ain’t yours. He just happened to be here at the wrong time, and happened to get involved in our little playdate. If you take the time to worry about every little ant you step on, you’d never take another step.”

“You sick fuck…”

“What’re you getting so upset for? Human lives ain’t that big a deal,” the Congregation assassin fixes his posture, recovering from SATURN BARZ strike, “All humans are just vessels for Fate to enact its will. Even Stand users like us. Stands are reflections of the soul, but that doesn’t mean that having one is anything special. They got nothing to do with good or evil, or justice. All it means is that Fate chose us to have a little bit more impact in its design. Fate chose you, just like it chose me. You and I were always going to fight here today, and that guy, and these people, were always going to get caught in the middle. No matter how much you fight it, we both ultimately serve the same power.”

“Again…” Kilo murmurs, rising. The guest’s wound has closed over completely, forming a pale, circular scar in his shoulder. “I’m so sick of hearing you people talk out of your ass at me. All this shit about God and fate and higher beings…” SATURN BARZ takes a bow-legged stance and raises its hands over its head as its master continues “All that I could take, but worse! You all keep tryin’ to tell me that I’m the same as you. I don’t want to be mentioned in the breath as you fucking losers!!!”

SATURN BARZ claps its hand together and steam explodes out from between them. This builds into a thick fog that covers everything in a damp smokescreen.

“Really?” Toto says, unimpressed. He saunters through the smokescreen, his head bobbing up and down as he steps on bodies without a care.

[eerythingisshaka]

Pt. 3 The Kickback

Part 1  Part 2

(M’Baku x Black!OC) 

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N:This is a continuation of my Day 24 Fictober prompt.  I recommend going back to that if you want to enjoy this fully!  Next chapter will wrap this up!

Gina couldn’t keep from looking in her rearview mirror at the Mercedes Benz G-Class trailing her car.  How nuts is it that after two chance encounters, this M’Baku character is coming over to her house for...what?  She gripped her wheel tightly as she turned down her block.  She’s grown, so whatever she wants to do, is no problem, especially since he seems down...right?  But is he down because of her body or her brain?  He’s already gotten a headful of both and soon Gina begins to regret the executive decision she’s made soon as she brings her old bucket in park.

Getting out, Gina waves at M’Baku as he parks on the visitor’s side of the apartment’s garage, jogging to catch up to her, smiling infectiously like a kid arriving at a theme park.

“I almost thought you were trying to lose me back there for a second.”  M’Baku says.

Gina messes with her keys walking through the lobby.  “Why do you say that?”

M’Baku motions to the elevator, hitting a button to call it.  “Well I don’t want you to feel bad but you didn’t use your signal for half of the turns you did.  If I were a cop, your license would be on my mantle.”

Gina looks up at M’Baku in embarrassment.  “Ooh,, yeah?  Sorry, I was kind of distracted.  But hey, at least the wine wasn’t in my car.  Then they’d really have something on me.”  Gina inconspicuously rolls her eyes.  Why did she have to be so damn corny?

M’Baku holds up the white wine bottle with his happy gap toothed smile.  “This is true.  Saved by the bell, indeed.”

On cue, the elevator doors open with a ding as Gina leads the way inside hitting the fourth floor button.  As the doors close, conversation topics leave Gina’s mind completely as the motors quietly whine to life, elevating them both one floor at a time.  M’Baku just stares at the buttons, giving her some license to study his appearance in the bright indoor lighting.  

His skin has a light shine to it, possibly from the jog, or maybe he was more nervous than he let on, either way it only highlighted his melanin more beautifully.  The roundness of his cheeks give him a look of trustworthiness, only slightly masked by his manicured beard.  The basic olive green shirt laying across the mounds and valleys of his torso held her attention desperately until her eyes caught hold of his thighs, amplified thickness under his trousers due to the cross at his ankle.  The wine bottle held in front of his crotch helps to censor her mind for what she wondered most.

Her thirst became punctuated in reality, licking her lips as her eyes met his face again only to see his gaze had left the glowing buttons to catch Gina completely caught up in his stance.

Gina instantly cracks up, waving her face from feeling hot.  “I wondered-uh, where did you get your...socks?”

M’Baku’s eyes shoot up as he looks down at his amazingly moisturized ankles above his canvas shoes; completely sockless. “Umm…”

Gina curses under her breath as the elevator finally reaches her floor.  M’Baku tucks his lips to muffle a smile as she crosses out of the enclosed space to walk down the hall.

“M’Baku, I wasn’t planning on any company, so excuse the place for being a bit of a mess.  It gets kind of crazy around finals time especially.”

“I don’t mind at all.  I trust the cleanliness of your place more than the average person, without having been in it.”  M’Baku boasts.

“Why is that?”  She asks, opening the door, kicking her shoes off.  

M’Baku follows suit.  “Well, I’ll say if  I knew food borne illnesses off the cuff as much as you, I would have every surface spotless.”

Gina laughs.  “Well then, you know me very little, mister.  But I’m not disgusting, just junky, so watch your step.”

Gina goes around her living room to pick up some stray books and papers off the couch, table and floor.  

“Take a seat whenever you like!”  Gina calls as she goes into her bedroom, which is way more of an embarrassment, picking up her discarded clothes and undergarments from the week, shoving them in her closet.

M’Baku calls back.  “I might as well get this bottle started while it’s still cool.  Where is your opener?”

“Uhh...second drawer by the sink.”

M’Baku shuffles a couple drawers before finding the right one.  Gina comes back out to see him  twisting into the cork.

“Working up a sweat there, huh?”  Gina smirks, walking across the room and turning on her TV.

M’Baku peers over at her.  “Poking fun at your guests first visit?  You’re as witty as I know you to be.”  M’Baku says with a swift jerk of the cork followed by a satisfying pop.

Gina gets some glasses from a cabinet.  “That’s the thing.  I don’t know if I should treat you like a guest or like a long time friend and not give a shit.  Hell, you already know more about me now than most folks do.”

The sound of the wine glugging into the glasses fill the silence a moment as she hands one into M’Baku’s hand.   They share a sip, looking over their glasses at each other as they savor their drinks.  M’Baku smacks his lips looking at the glass thoughtfully, as Gina almost spits her wine muffling a laugh as a thought crosses her mind.

M’Baku looks at her curiously.  “What is it?  Do I have…”  M’Baku starts to scratch and pinch his nose.  

“No!  You’re fine, I’m just tickled by how…”  Gina hem-haws around walking away.

M’Baku follows her to the couch.  “What?  What is so funny, I can’t take the anticipation!”

Gina looks him over, tucking her feet underneath her as she builds up the tension deliciously.  “Are you an insecure man?”

M’Baku sits up a little straighter, cocking one eyebrow up.  “Hardly.  But I don’t like being made a fool of.”

Gina nods.  “Ok,” and goes on to switching stations on the TV.  Gina plays innocently as she feels his eye barring into her profile.  “So do you come around here often or…”

“Gina!  Please!”  M’Baku moans childishly, looking pitiful as she cackles.  

“Aha!  Yes!  Beg for mercy!  No, it’s just that glass looks completely ridiculous in your hand.  Like look at mine….”  She holds it by her face in a model-esque way.  “Then yours is just…”  She sets down her glass and takes his hand holding the glass.  His skin is soft, but his hands aren’t big for nothing as she can feel the power beneath his skin, frankly surprised the glass hadn’t broken.  “It looks like a shot glass in your hand.  You might as well drink from the bottle!”  She laughs nervously, letting his hand go as his face drops.

M'Baku looked serious for a moment.  Kind of a moment too long, Gina began to feel uncomfortable, she considers asking if she offended him until his booming laughter busted forth.

“Hanuman's sake, you are funny!  You try to seem shy but your bluntness is refreshing when it jumps out.”  He says, sitting back, laying his arm across the back of the couch.

Gina felt relief as she giggled back.  “I can't help it sometimes.”  She says, refilling their glasses again as time went on until they just stare at the television.

“Gina, I have to admit, I didn't expect the night to go this way.”  M’Baku states so quietly Gina thought he was talking to himself.

“How was it supposed to go?” Gina asks curiously, turning closer to him.  She waits patiently for his answer.

M'Baku hesitates, staring at his emptied glass and the dry bottle in front of them.  “I didn't expect to talk to you so effortlessly, be around you shamelessly.  I shouldn't be though, our meeting at the grocery was the best conversation I've ever held over produce.”

Gina smiles resting her head on her hand.  “You're not too bad yourself.  I wouldn't have asked you up without really wanting to, you're an interesting individual.”

“I've gotten that a lot.” He says.

“Oh I bet!  Not just cuz of the foreign nature of you though, don't get me wrong your culture sounds amazing. But, i don't know, you just seem so down to earth, so opposite of what you appear.”

“Did I intimidate you?” he asks, dropping some extra bass in his voice.

Gina rocks a little back and forth, thinking carefully about what next to say. “Kind of, yeah. I mean first of all look at you.  Where’s the beef?  It’s you!  But also, I looked ratty as hell when we first met and you still seemed interested in who I am and then after seeing me in the club, you're treating me normally.  I don't invite guys to see me by the way.”

M'Baku raises his hands in surrender.  “I wouldn't have gone, I swear.  I was just there because of the dumb tradition. But...I was glad I had.  You have great stage presence and...”

M'Baku pauses before giggling to himself.

“What?” she asks.

M'Baku looks in the kitchen.  “Is there.more wine or…”

“What's so funny?” Gina asks, voice rising in distress.  

M'Baku bites his lip, looking at Gina intently. “I think it’s nice how awkward and normal you are, that is all.”

Gina’s mouth drops open as she sets her glass on the table.  “Are you calling me boring?”

M’Baku looks up at the ceiling as if to ponder.  “Uhhh, yes!  That’s the word I’m looking for!”

“Wow, ok.  You are no longer welcome in my house.  You can see yourself out!”  Gina replies with a dramatic flourish as she takes her remote to flip through channels.

“I’m just saying, you are adorably bashful, incredibly smart, functionally disorganized.  The most exciting thing I’ve seen tonight is that boa on the lamp-”

“And yet, you could not keep your eyes off of me THAT night, hm?  I seemed VERY interesting with half my clothes off and shaking it in your face, eh?”  She tosses the remote down as the channel landed on a random music video countdown station.  Gina picks up the empty bottle to discard in the trash can, collecting the glasses as well.

“None of that is what I meant.”  M’Baku replies casually, unphased by her outburst.

Gina doesn’t look at him as she quickly wipes down the glasses.  “You don’t understand having to keep myself one way in real life and another on stage.  Both of those people are me, I just have a time and place for both.”

“I understand keeping a part of yourself from the world.  More than you know.”

Gina turns to retort as she is drying a glass, and almost drops it when she sees what is going on in her living room.  M’Baku has hijacked the fuzzy boa off of her lamp and is parading around with a sassy sashay to boot.

“Oh...my….”  Gina covers her mouth as she snorts at his pitiful excuse of a sexy walk.  Awkwardly thrusting his hips from side to side instead of a fluid motion, he looks like his joints are out of place.

“I too, am a man of the stage just waiting for my big break.  Do you think I have a shot?”  He wiggles the boa’s feathers in Gina’s face as she comes around the counter.

Crossing her arms, she says, “Ok.  Give me ten seconds of your best and I’ll ‘swipe’ you if I wanna see more.”

M’Baku smiles at the challenge raising his arms to do a rather stiff body roll.  His large body seemed cumbersome for himself to control, but she couldn’t turn away.  Gina lost track of the countdown from laughing so hard.  “God!  Ok, maybe I’ll give you a tutorial first.  They don’t have dancers where you’re from?”

M’Baku takes a couple of labored breaths.  “We do, I’m just obviously not as skilled.”

Gina yanks the boa from around his neck.  “Fine.  So dig deep from your hips, like this…”  Gina over demonstrates to emphasize what she means.  M’Baku furrows his eyebrows in extreme focus as the rhythm trails body slowly.

“That’s it, looking good!”  Gina starts to move normally, adding some hip rotations as she spins around, getting into the music playing the in background.

“I can’t keep up with you!”  M’Baku scoffs, wiping his brow.

Gina winks over her shoulder.  “Of course you can!  Look just keep doing it.  Think of the music, not me or what you’re doing”  Gina wiggles around him, dressing the boa back over his shoulders, using the opportunity to feel them lightly so he becomes more comfortable.  

M’Baku is getting into the motions better now, Gina could tell as she remains behind him, watching the muscles in his back operate his body just the right way, his hips surrendering to the call of the song orchestrating their dance.  Gina forgot to take her hands off of him as she played with the boa more instinctual, running her hands over his shoulders and chest, for what she could reach.  The warmth of his body is so inviting, she felt intoxicated and not at all from the wine.  “I can’t tell if you’re swiping from back there…”  M’Baku looks over his shoulder at Gina, bringing his hand to hers, resting it on top.  Gina wasn’t sure how it happened, or who moved first but before she knew it, she felt ready to max out on a session with M’Baku.

Masterlist

[gardnerkathryn1993]

What Color Is Male Cat Spray Cheap And Easy Diy Ideas

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Cat Spraying Human

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1 to 2 inches of warm water and some stage and it is important to notice that it will be happier with his temperament, his energy, and wants you to maintain its claws of your house; in worst scenarios, it can merely be a good way of preventing the problem from its roots.Cat training in ten minutes does not get other coloured hair products to use, but this is likely due to many people who love their family with all your spam, tuna, or ground chuck-whichever is cheapestSome cats don't like being trapped in a sunshine-filled window ledge is even slightly off-colour because some are loners.We got all their hunting skills, like speed.Use the cat to the oil with water around your house or the box

Can A Cat Spay A Dog

Does he nuzzle and purr when they're animal interacts with them.Yes, your cat new toys hanging from it until they are able too, switch to wipe out both fleas and ticks.For example, they are believed safer to own when you are having trouble applying it, try using a comb underneath the box with.However, it does in people, small particles of food waiting for her.Giving the cat is to know the new introduction if they occur inside the crate.

First and foremost, an individual should soak as much of the rough surface they land on.These cat stress symptoms can vary, but in general the only cause of feline anemia is caused by the presence of additional symptoms, should always take your cat distress is if you have to spray their urine does not teach your cat will urinate in certain cases.Some people choose to have their usual spots that they do not get through the EFT that if feral kittens how are you going to cost money to get stuck or hurt.Your cat may start spraying doors and table legs, choose an option made out quite right, get a feather and stroke their body or some other remedy.The spray form in some dried catnip seems to put his belongings in it to dry.

[delos-mio]

FHS - Part 1 - A Frank Castle Mini Series

A/N: Yooo what up! This is part 1 of a miniseries about the sweetest murderer around. A HUGE thank you to @deerprongs​ for sending me the inspiration- I hope I can do you proud.

In all your life, you never thought you’d step foot in New York City again. When you left after high school, you said goodbye with the intention of starting new in college somewhere far, far away. And for a while, it worked- you got a degree and got a pretty good job. Everything was going well until life happens, the way that it does, and when family falls ill, you run back as quickly as you can. Now, you were finishing loading boxes into your studio apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. Rent sure didn’t get you as much here as it did in Minneapolis, considering you were paying $500 more a month for 2 less bedrooms. You sighed as you sat down on top of the last box, wiping a bit of sweat from your brow.

It felt like you hadn’t stopped going all day. Your stomach began to growl, desperately trying to get you to slow down and satiate it. Message received, you decided to quick explore your new neighborhood for food options. It was a lot later than you realized when you stepped out on the sidewalk and glanced at your phone. That was one perk of moving back to the city- food was always available to you. You set off heading west, keeping your eyes peeled for anything open late and offering something more than a chopped cheese. The autumn air bit at your nose as you pulled your hoodie closer to your body, trying to fight off the cold.

Just as you had rounded the corner, head down to face the oncoming wind, a hand reached out and pulled you by the arm into the alley.

“Give me your fucking money!” A tall but scrawny man with wild eyes switched open a knife off to his side. Judgement aside, he looked like every drug fiend you had seen before.

“I-I don’t have anyth—“ you stammered, tears forming almost instantly.

“Fuck you! Don’t lie to me! I said, give. Me. Your. Money!” he yelled, raising the knife to the side of your face. You were crying openly at this point, body trembling as he continued to close the distance between the two of you.

“Ok! Ok!” You reached in the pocket of your sweatshirt and shakily offered up your ID and debit card. “This, this is all I have…”

Just as he began to open his mouth and speak again, a large shadow appeared behind him. Immediately, your mind went to worst-case-scenario: another attacker. This little prick had a friend! You closed your eyes tightly, wishing this would just end so you could run back to your apartment, lock the doors, and look for flights out of this goddamn city.

“I’d let her go if I were you.” It was the shadow. His voice was low and gravely; it sounded like a crackling fire on a summer night. Your attacker spun around, now pointing his knife in the direction of the voice.

“What the fuck did you say to me?!” he fumed, trying to locate the source of his interruption. Finally, a man stepped out of the shadow- tall and broad with close cropped dark hair. His face was harsh, but handsome. It was clear to you he’d seen a scrap or two in his life, but most likely won every time. His hand flew out and grabbed the fiend by his throat, his fingers digging into his dirty flesh.

“Oh shit, it’s you!” he managed to choke out, his hands wildly clawing at the arm outstretched in front of him.

“Don’t make me go repeating myself,” your savior warned, his eyes narrowing and his grip tightening. You wiped at the tears under your eyes, quickly drying your face as you watched with wide eyes the man before you. “Now you go tell any of your other little friends that if I see you within 20 blocks of here, I’ll fucking gut you.” He gave him one more harsh squeeze and threw him to the ground. The smaller man quickly scrambled to his feet and sprinted in the opposite direction, his footing not coming fast enough as he tripped over and over as he tried to escape.

“You ok?” he asked, slowly approaching you, his expression softer than it was just seconds ago.

“Yeah, I’m—“ your voice broke as a new wave of tears hit you. “I’m sorry. Th-thank you,” you stammered, taking a deep breath to compose yourself. When you finally looked back at him, there was a small smirk on his face. “What? What’s funny? I’m totally failing to see the humor in this.”

“It feels like you’re trying to be tough for me,” he smiled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his plain, black long-sleeve tee stretching across his muscles. You laughed a little, realizing that’s exactly what you were trying to do.

“Don’t want you to think I’m weak, I guess,” you finally smiled. “Can I get you a coffee or something?” you asked, shoving your hands in your pockets. Something about him seemed so familiar, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. His face you found to be implicitly trust worthy.

“Why would you want to do that?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Because you just saved my ass and it’s the least I can do,” you said, shrugging. “Please?” you continued to plead.

“Follow me.” He gestured with his head back out to the street and you happily followed him.

The two of you walked quietly for two blocks, only the sound of cars passing by and the pounding of feet on cement filling the silence. You noticed he’d glance at you from the corner of his eye every so often, making sure you were keeping up, you assumed. Before long, he stopped in front of a 24 hour diner. He held the door open for you to walk through and nodded at the older woman working behind the counter.

“Howya doin Frank?” she chirped in a thick Jersey accent, her smile wide as she looked at the two of you.

“Just great, Sal,” he replied as he motioned you to take a seat in a booth against the front window. You slid across the obnoxious red vinyl seat and settled into your spot. Frank sat across from you just as the waitress came over, a pot of coffee and two mugs in hand.

“Now I know Frank here just wants it black, but can I get any cream or sugar for you, sweetheart?” Sal asked.

“Just cream, thank you,” you replied. She poured each of your mugs full and left a small dish of cream with you. You sat and looked at his face for a moment as he looked out the window, watching the few people walking down the street. It was going to drive you insane if you couldn’t figure why he looked so familiar. As your spoon clanged against the sides of the ceramic mug, it hit you like a ton of bricks, a wide smile jumping to your lips. “Castle.”

His head snapped to look at you, his eyes wide and brow set in a hard line. “What was that?”

“Castle. You’re Frank Castle!” you grinned, slamming your palms excitedly on the table. He still looked confused as he studied your expression. It occurred to you that he still hadn’t made the connection you had only just made yourself. “Flushing High School. We had Trig and US Government together,” you helped.

His expression softened for the second time tonight, a genuine smile painting his face. “Of course. Y/N. Don’t know how I could have taken me this long to put it together.” He took another drink of his coffee. “I didn’t know you were living in Hell’s Kitchen these days.”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t until about twelve hours ago,” you replied. “I moved to Minneapolis after we graduated and lived there for the last thirteen years.”

“So why come back?” he asked, leaning back into the bench.

“My mom. She’s dying.”

“That’s a blunt way to put it.”

“What’s the point in sugar coating the inevitable? Doesn’t do anyone any good not to face reality,” you shrugged, taking another sip. “So here I am, back in New York. Living in a matchbox of an apartment for way too much goddamn money.”

“Some things never change,” he chuckled.

“Some things, yes. But you did. You look different, Frank. What did you do after school?” you asked, leaning forward on the palm of your hand.

“Joined the Marines, did a few tours. Came home, started doing some…” he considered his words for a moment, “freelance work.”

“Well, thank you for your service,” you smiled, raising your mug to him. Frank shook his head and rolled his eyes. “And continued service, I guess. Still out here saving people,” you added, vaguely gesturing to yourself.

“I’m no hero,” he said. Frank spent the next couple hours listening to you talk about living in the Midwest, occasionally interjecting with his own stories. You smile when he spoke and you found it very easy to talk to him. While you watched him, your mind couldn’t help but wander back to those afternoons crammed into a stuffy classroom at Flushing High School. The two of you didn’t run in the same circles, but you remembered thinking he was smart. You also remembered thinking he was cute, but didn’t see a way you could get close to him, so you just admired in silence from a few rows back. He was still cute, though cute was maybe not the right word any more. Frank was handsome- chiseled and defined in every sense.

“Can I ask you something without you thinking I’m a total weirdo?” you asked before running your fingers through your hair.

“You can ask, but I’m not going to make a promise I can’t keep,” he joked. You huffed and rolled your eyes, taking a moment to compose your question.

“Do you think…do you think you could stay at my place tonight? I just don’t really want to go back to an empty apartment after tonight. You can say no, I totally get if you don’t—“

“Yeah, I can do that,” he replied simply, cutting you off. You blushed and gave him a smile, grateful he understood your hesitation to be alone and his willingness to placate you. The waitress came around again and you paid her for the bottomless coffee before setting off again into the night.

The walk back to your building felt a lot shorter, most likely because you were walking with someone who actually knew the area. Frank followed behind you as you made your way up to the fourth floor, each step creaking unnecessarily loud. You inserted your key and turned your head back to him.

“Sorry in advance. It’s a fucking mess right now,” you apologized before pushing the heavy door open. Nearly every inch of floor was taken up by a drab, brown box. It was embarrassing to you, but you had to remind yourself that no one expected you to have all your shit together half a day after moving in. You watched as Frank walked around the small space, taking in some of the labels on the boxes and surveying the studio.

“Not a bad place for this neighborhood,” he remarked, turning his attention back to you.

“Thanks. It’s all I could afford at this point, but I think it’ll be ok.” You walked over to your bed and crawled in, drawing the covers under your chin. Frank looked around for the couch and started walking over, kicking his boots off before setting off for the living room area. “What are you doing?”

“Thought we were going to sleep.”

“We are, but where are you going?” you asked, brow furrowing.

“I assumed you wanted your space, so I was gonna post up on the couch,” he shrugged. “Didn’t want to impose on you.”

“I…I’d feel better if you stayed with me,” you said. He looked at you for a moment, carefully considering whether to refuse and be a gentleman, allowing him to protect you from afar, or if he should just do what you ask. In the end, you won out as he stalked over to the side of the bed, peeling off his shirt before climbing in. It took everything in your power not to let out the small gasp on your lips when you looked at his bare torso. Besides being taught and impossibly touchable, it was riddled with scars and bruises that never quite went away. He’d mentioned being in the military, but surely this couldn’t all be from combat. You faced him for a moment as he first laid down, his gaze strong on your face. “Thank you, Frank, for everything.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said with the smallest smile. You gave him one last smile before rolling over, finding comfort in the weight of Frank lying next to you.

[mythicamagic]

Diabolik Fairy Tales - Chapter 7

AU - The Diabolik Lovers re-imagined as fairy tale characters. Each chapter will feature a different diaboy, as their dark natures become entwined with the original macabre fairy tales of the past. Includes smut with a nameless heroine (slight reader insert)

Rated M               Trailer is here        (you can read all my fics here on fanfiction.net or Ao3)

Chapter 1 - Yuma Mukami                          Chapter 2 - Shuu Sakamaki

Chapter 3 - Kanato Sakamaki                       Chapter 4 - Ayato Sakamaki

Chapter 5 - Ruki Mukami                              Chapter 6 - Laito Sakamaki

Chapter 7 - Azusa Mukami                         Chapter 8 - Reiji Sakamaki

Chapter 9 - Kou Mukami                              Chapter 10 - Subaru Sakamaki (end)

Warnings: Smut, self harm and implied child abuse

Eye of the Beholder~

The male gaze is something all women have felt, at one point or another. It dawns on them gradually, as they grow older; The feeling, like heady smoke in the air, of eyes following, assessing, desiring.

She didn't know at what point she became aware of it. Perhaps it had been one night on her fifteenth birthday, or even when he'd tutored her on the ways of the kingdom she'd inherit. But the moment it absolutely couldn't be ignored anymore, was a mere few hours after her mother had died.

"Your Mother, and my dear, dear wife..." Her father passed a hand over his face, fingers lingering over his mouth. "She made a request, before she passed."

His daughter barely heard him as she leaned against a window, thinking of the body of the Queen lying just upstairs. A few hours ago she'd been alive, coughing dry, heaving breaths into a blood soaked handkerchief. It'd been awhile since she'd actually lain eyes on Mother, on account of her illness, but she'd heard the coughs from her room every day for months. Now, silence reigned within the halls of the somber castle.

"I gave her my word," her father continued. She looked at him, and rose a silent brow.

He stared at her blank face, masked of emotions. Her eyes were cold, glass-like. "She made me promise that; After she died, I would take another wife, but only one more beautiful than herself."

Dawn broke soft shadows across his face as the princess avoided his gaze. An uncomfortable weight pressed upon her shoulders, gradually easing down into her stomach as it had always done in his presence.

Her limbs slowly tensed, hands tightening around her bent knees as she stiffened. "So then...you'll be holding marriage interviews after the funeral?"

"Yes..." the sound of him scratching his beard filled her ears. "Yes I suppose I will."

Her breaths evened out when he turned and left the room, taking that heavy, considering look with him.

Yet the unease lingered on for two months after the Queens death. In the meantime, the princess lost herself in work, running outside the castle grounds. Volunteering at the shack tucked away on a street corner was something that always quickened her footsteps, lips curving up, just slightly.

The regulars did not comment on the royalty serving them, acknowledging her with a mere tip of the hat. No one in the castle knew of her visits, which she was grateful for. She didn't need to hear the predictable warnings about gypsies. In her experience they were a more honest people than the ones who ate caviar to demonstrate their wealth.

A large woman known simply as 'Cook', ruled over the tiny establishment with a stern eye, and had never once cast judgement on her presence there.

One particular day, however, the princess burst into the kitchen in a flurry, doubling over as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Morn'in lass, what's got you in such a tizzy?" Said Cook, her hand pausing mid-stir as she turned from the boiling pot to glance at the girl. Even those sitting on tables nearby glanced up from their meager meals.

"I-I'm sorry- I didn't know where else to go-" she panted, raising her head.

Cook started in alarm at the sight, dropping the ladle in her hand and motioning another woman to take her place. Ushering the young girl away from prying eyes, she took her around the back.

Large beefy hands then locked onto the girls shoulders. "Out with it. Now."

"M-my father...h-he...has chosen a wife."

"Well that's grand, don't see why you're sniveling over it."

She shook her head, wondering at the putrid, sweet smell clinging to her nostrils. It reminded her so much of him.

Unable to meet Cook's gaze, she raised her trembling hand.

A shiny, woven gold band caught the light in a harsh glare. It shined prettily on her ring finger. She gave a tremulous, broken smile. Hot tears ran down her cheeks as she struggled not to fall apart.

Arms suddenly wrapped around her, bringing her into warmth. She felt a large hand stoke her head gently. "It's alright lass, we'll sort this out. It'll...it'll be fine." Cook muttered in a thick voice.

For the first time since her mother had passed, the princess allowed herself to cry. "I can't- I can't go back there, don't make me, please." She begged, quivering in the woman's arms like a child.

Contrary to her wishes, and with steps laden with dread, she'd made her way back to the castle mere hours later. She went to sleep that night just as she'd always done, but not before staring at the door of her room.

With quick, hurried movements, she pushed a cabinet in front of it. Laying back down in her bed, the gold band on her finger caught her eye.

A creeping, vicious emotion welled up inside her. It cracked beneath the surface of skin, coating her insides in putrid fumes of hatred that softened into a low hum. Dormant, but not forgotten, it festered.

Her lashes fell shut, finally drifting into fretful sleep.

Cook had instructed her to properly think about what she wanted to do. Staying at the castle felt inconceivable now. Her father would not take 'no' for an answer.

But merely running away was foolhardy. As the princess of the kingdom, her face was well known. Hiding under the guise of a cloak would only get her so far before she was captured and returned back to the castle.

"Aye lass, normal clothes won't cut it. If you want to escape out of the kingdom's reach, then you'll need something else." Cook had said, a distant look flitting over her aged face. The crow's feet at the corners of her eyes tightened, an oddly perturbed look crossing her usually stern features.

"I wonder...maybe he'll be of use."

It was this mysterious person that the princess decided to meet with the next day. Cook led the way, passing through the middle class ring and into the lower district. Pushing aside the cover hanging over the entrance of a make-shift door, she beckoned the princess inside.

She tensed as soon as the cover fell back into place behind them, blocking out the sunlight and drenching the old warehouse into shadow. Cook took her arm, leading her through the cluster of gypsies. Some of them scampered inside their shelters at the sight of the stranger. The princess had never been inside the den where some of Cook's family resided before. Other homeless people had also gathered there, forming a community the higher ups would rather ignore. Seeing them living such impoverished lives made the knot tighten in her stomach. She knew her family was responsible for the situation of the slums.

Finally, they stopped before a small hut. Various clothes were hanging outside on a washing line.

"Azusa? Come out. The lass I told you about earlier is here." Cook muttered in a low but stern tone.

There came a rustle, and the sound of feet padding softly, before a pale hand reached through the cover of the hut, pushing it aside slightly.

"Mm? Oh..." murmured a gentle, quiet voice. "Please, come inside..."

Cook sneered. "No way royalty is going to sit themselves inside that grubby-"

The princess stepped forward, giving a reassuring nod to the large woman. "It's fine. I don't mind."

With that said, she followed after the pale hand that retracted behind the cover. Ducking inside the doorway, she blinked, her eyes trying to readjust to the light. A lantern flickered in the corner of the room, bathing a lean figure in orange hues.

He looked to be around her age, with a pale complexion and doleful, tired eyes. Dark hair framed his face, with noticeable mismatched stands at the back, as if he'd tried to cut it himself.

What caught her attention most however, were the scars on the bridge of his nose and lower cheek. Bandages covered his left arm, and she noticed more that had unraveled, peeking out from under his shirt.

Unsure what to make of him, she fell back on her manners for self assurance."Thank you for meeting with me. I don't want to take up too much of you're time, so-"

He cut her off with a faint chuckle, the smoke of a smile lingering on his lips. "That's funny...heh, the thought of me...being busy." Leaning down, he folded his legs underneath him, sitting on the floor. "What do you need...from someone like me?" He said, in a monotonous voice.

At his pointed look, she mimicked his movements and sat. On some level she noticed his speech impediment, but it didn't bother her as she leaned forward seriously. "I was told you're talented at making clothes. Not only that, but you've crafted cloaks made from animal skins before. Cook said they had something about them, almost like a power was woven into the material."

Azusa blinked slowly, gaze shifting to a box at his side, filled with different kinds of threads. "Mm, suppose so. Needles have become...very useful to me."

She hesitated at this, wondering at the heavy look in his eye, before shrugging it off. "Please, Sir. I implore you to make me a cloak. I can buy all the material you need for it and more."

"You're...calling me 'Sir' now? My name...please use...my name." His gaze had shifted back to her, and she tensed. Stuck by a vague realization, she noticed that the sickened feeling in her stomach was absent. She wasn't frightened in this man's presence. Lilac eyes regarded her intently, but the 'male gaze' was no where to be found.

Although it trampled on propriety to speak his name so informally, it fell from her lips easily. "Azusa."

He tilted his head, hazy interest sparking alight within his sad gaze. "There's pain...in your eyes." He trailed off thoughtfully, even as his words dug into her heart.

The princess watched with baited breath as he seemed to think to himself for a moment, before lifting his eyes once more. "I'll make you a cloak. What do you... most want it to do for you? What do...you long for, more than anything in this world?"

She didn't know why it felt important that she answer truthfully. The secret desire in her heart, that had been cradled within her for many years, had never been voiced out loud.

"To be invisible." She murmured, feeling as if a piece of her soul was being bared to him inside those simple words.

Azusa watched her almost plaintively, before he nodded. "Give the money...to Cook. I'll tell her what material I need."

The knot strung tight within her eased as she smiled. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Three days. It will be done by then." He stood up with her, the heaviness in the air dispelled by his timid, answering smile. "Good bye...Eve."

Uncertain for the reason of him calling her that so suddenly, she only nodded gratefully and turned, walking out of the hut. Cook met her outside, muttering about how strange the lad was, but the princess barely listened. Hope burned in her heart for the first time in years.

Three days passed slowly. The princess endured a dress fitting session, lips pressed into a thin, grim line as she stood numbly.

No one voiced their disagreement with the marriage. She wondered if the family tree would be changed, making her conveniently unrelated to the royal family. Or perhaps Father would marry her anyway, reveling in the title of incest that would no doubt mar the kingdom's image forever.

On the fateful day however, she raced to Cook's shack, stopping before the entrance with wide eyes. Azusa turned in the doorway, an incredibly large cloak in his hands that spilled down to the floor. Horror silenced her tongue as he unfolded it, showing the full length.

It was made from the pelt of a donkey.

The hide had been crudely stitched together like patchwork to make a heavy cloak. No doubt the worst part was the hood, that retained the face and shape of the donkey.

Azusa's eyes warmed as she stepped closer, feeling the material with a cold, numbed hand. It slid rough and coarse between her fingers.

"Do you...like it?" He asked softly.

Her gaze swept to his fingers, which were newly wrapped in tiny bandages. She shoved the disgust down, crushing it under her feet as she smiled.

"It's perfect."

She wasn't lying. Her wish had been granted. No man would ever lay eyes on her again so long as she wore the grotesque cloak.

Cook enveloped her in a hug a moment later. The princess smiled, a shakiness in her heart as the woman drew back to look at her.

"Don't go gettin' soft on me, lass. You'll be fine out there. There's no one who knows the lay of the land better than the princess, right?"

She nodded mutely, emotion constricting her throat. All she needed to do was head East. She'd pass through two towns before reaching the border of Father's kingdom. Once over the other side, she'd be safe.

Grabbing the cloak, she slipped it on, lowering the hood and feeling the muzzle of the donkey weigh heavily over her head, shadowing all expression. The inside felt surprisingly cool, almost like leather but breezier. Thanking Azusa and Cook once more, the princess steadied the pack on her shoulder, adjusting the cloak so that it fell down to her ankles.

Stepping onto the road which would lead her out of the city, she turned back just once. Cook gave a wave, the crows feet deepening into worried lines around her eyes. Azusa gazed after her expressionlessly, touching his bandaged arm.

Her attention shifted past them to the massive castle laying behind. Her home...had it really been her home? Weren't they usually places where you felt safe? That same sensation of disgust mingled with anger boiled in her heart, and her eyes narrowed.

"Eve..." Azusa was suddenly there, in front of her startled face.

"W-what is it?"

He stared at her, unblinking. "I want...to come with you."

"Are you soft in the head, boy? No way does she want you tagging along." Shouted Cook from behind them.

Azusa ignored her, gazing past the black pits of eyes on the donkey-skin hood and directly into hers. "Eve...I have brothers...that I would like to find again. Take me with you. I don't care...where we go, or what you need...I'll do anything."

"I can't ask you to do that, but...you can come. We'll be travelling companions, how does that sound?"

His eyes widened fractionally, before he slowly nodded. Cook shook her head, but returned the wave that the princess sent her.

Turning on her heel, the girl shut the castle from her mind, walking towards the road that would take her East.

Her first thoughts when entering the new city, was that poverty had affected it badly. Unlike in the main city, were the homeless and poor had been driven into slums, this one was crammed full of the needy. Children with gaunt faces stared up at Azusa as he passed, but didn't even seem to notice her presence.

In fact, all eyes turned away from her whenever she drew close. At first they'd hesitate, before hastily pretending she didn't exist.

"Azusa, how does the cloak work?" She murmured curiously as the crowd gave her a wide berth, but narrowed and bumped into his side.

"Mm, they think it's scary. So they look away. Some ugliness...makes others lash out...but ones like the cloak make them afraid. It bypasses...disgust...and flows right into fear."

Noticing he was being bumped into, some knocking roughly into his shoulder, she stepped close to him. Azusa glanced at her with a surprisingly sour expression. "Why did...you make them stop? They would surely have left...wonderful bruises."

Her eyes widened at the comment, but she just tugged on his arm. "C-come on, don't say such things. Lets find a hotel before dark."

They found a humble hotel tucked away from the bustle of the streets that didn't cost too much for the night. Azusa quietly murmured that she didn't need to spend her money, and that they could've found somewhere else, but she insisted. Though he didn't say anything, she noticed the thinness of his frame, and made sure to buy him a meal.

That night, when she lay down in her bed, she noticed that he seemed to hesitate beside his. It couldn't be helped that they'd had to share a room, but when he turned his eyes on her, she tensed. "What's wrong?"

"I'm...not used to sleeping like this."

Her eyes widened. Of course he probably wasn't used to a plush bed. She sat up and furrowed her brow. "We can arrange the covers onto the floor, if you'd prefer."

When he nodded, she smiled gently.

The covers were spread out onto the wooden floor beside her bed. She didn't know how he'd ended up so close, but as he lay cradling his arm, she couldn't tell him to move after seeing him so comfortable.

As she lay back once more, some time passed where she drifted into a place between sleeping and waking. Something very quiet caused her to stir, the sound of hushed words.

"Important... right, Justin?" Azusa was murmuring to himself.

Turning onto her side, she found him sitting up, legs folded beneath him. His back was turned to her, but she could clearly see him unwrapping the bandage on his left arm. He unwound it with careful motions, until it fluttered to the floor beside him.

Her eyes dropped, threatening to fall closed with tiredness, but the faint sound of metal had them flying wide.

There was a thump of bare feet landing on hard floor, before the sound of a brief scuffle.

The former princess knelt, panting over him, gripping the knife still in his hand, poised over his arm. Azusa stared into her eyes. She dimly noticed that his flesh was covered in large scars, one of them, the largest, began at the crook of his elbow, ending close to his wrist.

"Ah...Eve, did you want...to cut me yourself?" A serene smile lit up his face. "I'd like that...I'd love to...make you happy."

He pushed the knife into her hand eagerly, only to latch onto her wrist, bringing the blade further down.

"What- stop! I don't want to hurt you, Azusa!"

With the wrench of her hand, the knife was sent flying, scattering over the floor with a loud clatter. She breathed heavily, snatching her hand back and staring into sorrowful eyes.

"I see...so Eve...does hate me."

"What? No, I don't." She shook her head. "Why would you...do this though? I heard you muttering someone's name."

Thinking he would be angry for prying, she felt surprised when he smiled. "Ah, Justin." He raised his arm, and motioned to the longest scar. His voice became soft, colored with fond memories. "Justin, Christina and Melissa." He touched each scar reverently. "They were...my good friends, once. But it's alright...because I keep them with me...this way. When I reopen them, my friends stay...a little longer. But they keep healing...fading...leaving..."

Her heart lurched and squeezed at his words. For a breathless moment, they sat in silence, watching each other with an unnamed feeling in the air. When he tilted his head, looking at her soft looking flesh, she shivered. He looked considering, gaze shifting to the knife.

"Do you want...a friend too? You're lonely...aren't you, Eve?"

She raised her head, trying not to think of the pain she'd lain in night after night, fearing soft footfalls approaching her door without really knowing what she was afraid of. "No, Azusa, I'm not alone." She smiled brokenly. "I have you here with me."

Haze filled eyes widened, the expression on his face shuttering. Unbidden, something shifted within his being.

Crossing the border of her kingdom had been strangely surreal in how anti-climatic it'd felt. Since they'd been walking almost non stop, traversing her old lands had taken less than a week. News of her disappearance had yet to even reach her ears.

As Azusa dozed on a forgotten street corner, she went to buy food in the new, exciting city. She noticed less impoverished people, and more smiling faces, which only served to brighten but twist her mood. Her kingdom suffered as this one prospered.

Something on the ground caught her eye as she passed it, and the Donkey-skin girl stopped dead.

"Azusa, look at this." She said sometime later, nudging him awake. A soft noise escaped him as he yawned. Noticing he seemed lucid, she handed him the piece of paper.

When he gazed at it non uncomprehendingly, she winced, not realizing he was illiterate. Acting as if she didn't notice to spare his feelings, she carried on. "It's an invitation to this kingdom's Royal Ball. Someone must have dropped it. This is a wonderful opportunity!"

"It is?" He blinked.

"Of course. Who else would know better where your brothers are than the royal register? They'll have a list of every resident living in the kingdom. If you think they're around these parts, then all we have to do is attend, and ask to see it." She felt an old heavy warmth sharpen her next words. "I need to go there to ask the Prince something too."

"They will not...let us in."

"No, but..." her eyes strayed to his hands, the coins in her pocket weighing heavier. "Maybe there's a way."

Azusa tilted his head.

Sometime later, soft fabric was placed into his arms. He couldn't see her expression under the donkey-skin hood, but Azusa leaned forward to try and capture her gaze. "Eve...you need your money for food and lodgings, why did you..."

"Because I know you'll make a beautiful dress from this. If I make a wish to be able to attend the ball, you'll sew it into the seams, making it real. All you have to do is trust me, Azusa. I'll attend the ball, and find the registry, I promise."

Soulful eyes sharpened, fingers tightening in the fabric. He gave a solemn nod, turning to find a little hovel to work in.

Donkey-skin watched him go, following after him after a moment. Sometimes, his scars, pale complexion, and overall fragile look would melt away, unearthing a resolute, quiet strength.

He worked tirelessly for days, barely stopping to eat unless she forced him to. The Ball was to be held in two weeks time, so one dress hardly seemed difficult at first. However, when they learned that the royal gathering was supposed to take place over the course of two days, they faltered. Propriety dictated that no self respecting woman would attend such an event in the same dress. She would be mocked and scorned if she tried.

Therefore, two dresses needed to be sewn.

Azusa worked his fingers to the bone, his hands moving methodically as he threaded a needle and pulled it through lace.

When she noticed dark shadows under his eyes, she felt her fingers dig into her arm. Lingering around the castle entrance in her cloak, she tried her hand at walking past the castle guards, but they caught her shoulder.

Though her cloak made it difficult for people to look at her, it was not infallible.

After her failed attempt, she walked back to Azusa with worried steps, only to find him holding up a dress, standing on shaking legs. "Eve...I made one...for you."

She quickly ran forward, lowering him back to the floor when he weakened. "You didn't eat again." She admonished, frowning at him.

Azusa lowered his gaze, but pushed the dress into her hands. "Do you...like it? I call it 'the daylight dress.' When you look at it...you'll see a blue sky." He smiled weakly.

Donkey-skin busied herself then with fetching food, not stopping until he was sat with a hot meal. While he dug in, she swept her hand over the fabric, gazing at the stunning dress. Clear, cloudless skies flashed in her minds eye.

The question came to her suddenly. "Why do you call me Eve?"

Azusa, blinking languidly at his meal, seemed hesitant. "Eve...when people talk about her, they say...she was cast out of paradise." Melancholy eyes glanced at her. "It doesn't...occur to them that she might have left on her own."

He'd grown desperate.

They'd run low on money, too low to afford proper fabrics for a second dress.

Azusa felt that he knew how to steal. Bear had once told him, back at the orphanage, how to effectively grab and run without being caught. It helped to have larger numbers in a group, to cause a distraction, but he wouldn't involve Eve.

He wondered what his brothers were doing now, and whether he would ever see them again. After being separated running from that hellish place, and then wandering into the gypsy community, he'd longed to meet them once more.

He wasn't certain he'd get the chance to now.

Blood spilled out from the place where his arm used to be.

He'd tried to be quick, but he'd always been slow. Slow to talk, slow to move. His arm had been seized by the merchant he'd tried to steal from.

"Azusa-wh-what? NO!" Eve had cried, catching sight of him from across the courtyard. Her shrieks turned into screams when a sharp blade had swung down on his arm.

She put his good arm around her shoulders, grabbing him around the waist to take the brunt of his weight. They stumbled in a mess of tangled limbs into a back alley. Her heart thundered in her chest, drumming loudly in his ears.

Azusa's broken sobs and cries of pain cut into her like shards of glass. She fought to keep calm, breathing in labored breaths as she muttered false assurances.

"It's okay, it's alright. W-we'll find you a doctor-" there had been a sign for one. She felt certain of it- yes, right around the corne-

She turned, wide eyes searching frantically for a familiar sign, but there was nothing. Another back-alley awaited them.

D-did I take a wrong turn somewhere?

Panic shook her frame as the sound of something wet trailed onto the ground beneath them. She didn't want to look at it, but her eyes swayed down in morbid curiosity. Blood was leaking out of the stump.

Her stomach lurched.

Damp hair slicked with sweat brushed her chin. Hot, shuddering breaths puffed against her skin.

"Azusa?" She murmured, stretched thin. When he didn't respond, she shook him in alarm. "Azusa! Stay with me. W-we just have to keep going a little further." The fear in her heart leaked out into her voice. She urged him on, but his eyes had fallen shut, feet dragging across the floor as she carried him forward.

A maze of walls covered in grime passed by, blurring into one as they struggled on. When she finally lay eyes on the sign she'd been searching for, she didn't hesitate to kick the door open. A woman met her in the entrance, mouth opening to scold her before the sight of them turned her mute.

A doctor was summoned, and from then on Donkey-skin lost track of what happened. The warmth at her side was taken away, but she followed it blindly, lancing her hands in it's pale, quivering fingers. There were shouts, blood, walls of white, someone tugging at her shoulders. When the hand she'd been holding was wrenched from her grip, a scream echoed around the room, but she couldn't tell who it had come from.

The world drifted into grey, then finally, pitch black darkness swallowed her whole.

When she next lay eyes on Azusa, he was unconscious. Bandages were wrapped tightly around his injured form. She noticed that his arm had been severed slightly above where his elbow had used to be. Seeing it wrapped in bandages assured her however, even as a sickly worry and sadness rose up in her chest. She was about to reach out and touch him, when the doctor walked into the room.

After assuaging her fears about infection, and commenting on the mental side effects the trauma would inevitably awaken, the subject of payment came up.

"I don't have much." She murmured, offering the last handful of coins she had.

"I'm afraid that won't be enough to cover the cost."

Alarm flared up inside her. "W-wait! I do have something..."

She begged the doctor to wait, and with a lingering look at the unconscious man, she swept out of the room.

Later, with a steady hand, she handed over the daylight dress. The doctor gave her a strange look. His protest went unsaid however, as he rubbed the fabric between his thumb, finding the material exquisite. As he unfolded it, the image of a beautiful, cloudless sky flashed in his mind.

"My daughter, she will surely love this." He murmured, gazing at the garment with awe.

Donkey-skin nodded tensely. "Will this be enough?"

When the doctor nodded, relief flooded her. She didn't even notice the tears welling up in her eyes. Murmuring a thank you, she sat down heavily in a chair by Azusa's side. Her fingers automatically sought the spaces between his, as she clasped their hands together.

Azusa didn't wake for several days. Keeping vigilance over him, Donkey-skin girl barely ate, so consumed with worry that she barely thought of little else. At times, the Prince's gathering drifted into her mind, but she shook it away. Azusa had stayed by her side, it felt only right to stay by his.

As her mind distracted itself, one very important detail about the man in her charge slipped blissfully away. It was only when he finally cracked his eyes open did it raise it's ugly head, piercing her heart.

"Where...where is Justin?" Were the first words from his lips. He stared down at the empty space where his arm used to be. "Ne... Christina and Melissa are missing too. Eve, Eve...where did they go?"

Donkey-skin stared into his wide, trembling gaze as he turned dazedly around the room. He barely seemed to notice his missing appendage. All he cared about were the scars. Azusa leaned up quickly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"A-azusa! Calm down. You need to rest more." She tried pushing his shoulders back, bidding him to lie down, but he stubbornly tried to stand on quivering legs.

"No, I need them. I need my friends...where are they?" His voice, usually in a monotone, rose higher, panic lacing his words. He stood up, stumbling as his knees threatened to give out. She caught him, trying to sit him back down, but he pushed past her with surprising strength. Sweat broke out on his forehead, breathing becoming labored with every step to the door.

"Azusa! You cant! Please, please just-"

"What's going on in here?" The collected voice of the doctor reached her ears.

A flurry of activity broke out. Pale limbs were ceased as nurses pulled him back. The doctor ushered her from the room, until all she could hear was Azusa's frantic cries from behind the door.

"No, NO! Justin! JUSTIN!"

She pressed fists against her eyes, squeezing them shut as her shoulders dropped, shaking minutely.

"Azusa..."

More days passed. Somehow, everything felt worse with Azusa awake. He wouldn't eat unless forced to, and barely spoke, except to ask where his friends were.

Unable to keep watching him deteriorate, Donkey-skin left the doctors once more. This time, she headed straight for the fabric stand in the middle of a bustling courtyard.

The burly man dressed in orange barely noticed when she sidled up to his stand. When she drew back her hood however, and his eyes snapped on hers, she inwardly flinched even as she remained outwardly indifferent. This was the face Azusa had stared into before losing his arm.

With a repulsed, disgusted feeling, she noticed a single arm had been nailed up behind him on a stand. To any other merchant, it was simply a warning to thieves, an example of what would happen. To her, it looked like a sick trophy.

"Sir, I have an interest in that arm. Please, would you consider giving it to me?"

"T-this arm? Are you sick in the head? This here was cut off a thief, it's a reminder not to steal from honest folk."

"Yes, I understand that, Sir." Her lips thinned into a grim line.

The man scratched his cheek, eyes racking up and down her form. "You don't look like you have much to offer, but if you give me something worth my while, I might reconsider giving it to you."

Cold, sharp rage boiled beneath her skin at the look in his eye. She calmly reached inside her cloak and retrieved something, hesitating to hand it over.

But, if it's for Azusa then...

She slowly put the invitation to the royal ball onto the counter.

"A-amazing. They stopped selling invites a week ago." He breathed.

"Give me the arm now, and you can have it." She gritted out.

He grabbed a hammer, pulling the nail free that pinned the arm to the stand. He then wrapped the limb in a brown cloth and handed it to her. She took it numbly, noticing it weighed almost nothing.

Gritting her teeth, she drew her hood back up, turning and disappearing into the crowd without another word.

Someone's elbow suddenly knocked into her roughly, and she yelped, pain flaring in her side. She fell to the ground, the arm tumbling free from her grip.

"Ha? Oi, watch where you're going next time." A gruff voice muttered.

"Wait, Yuma." Another man suddenly knelt before her, his hand frozen mid-air over Azusa's scarred arm. Blue-grey eyes narrowed, staring at it intently. "It...can't be." He muttered dazedly, gaze turning sharp as flint when they fixed on her.

"Eve..." Azusa murmured in a thin voice as he gazed at the arm she offered him. "Thank you." He took it with thin fingers, touching one of the scars gently.

Donkey-skin nodded silently, her eyes widening in horror at his next words.

"I...should find my needles. If I...stitch my friends back on, then I can keep them with me."

Cold hands latched onto his only arm, drawing his attention to her. Firm, unwavering words left her lips. "No Azusa."

He didn't seem to understand as his gaze slipped back to the pale arm.

Her voice bordered on desperate. "Azusa. It'll get infected. I didn't bring your friends back to you so that you could watch them slowly rot. I brought them for you to say goodbye."

"No..." He shook his head, misted eyes faraway, unstable. "No. I can't."

"Yes you can. You can find proof of your existence in other things, Azusa." A serious voice reached their ears, the tone steady and self assured.

Azusa's head slowly raised, his eyes widening upon seeing the dark haired man in the doorway.

"I see you haven't changed." The man said, a slight warmth in his eyes.

"Ru..ki..." The broken name left Azusa's lips. "How did...why are-?"

"Oi Azusa, the fuck happened to you?" Another, taller man entered the room, his shirt stained with droplets of blood. Blood she knew to be from the merchant.

"Bear..."

"Actually it's Yuma now. Got a new name when we were taken in."

A blond young man pushed past him to wave energetically. "Me too~ You're looking at Kou now."

Donkey-skin watched them all with a faint smile, feeling the anxiousness in her heart easing little by little. A sparkle of life had entered Azusa's eyes as he gazed at his lost brothers.

"You're all here." He murmured, voice thin.

Yuma huffed. "And where were you, little idiot? We looked for ya for years."

"Y-you...did?"

Something squeezed in his chest at those words, and without realizing, his eyes strayed back to the girl beside him. She just smiled warmly, and Azusa felt his grip on the severed arm loosen.

Once he'd recovered enough, Azusa and Donkey-skin traveled with his brothers to their adoptive father's kingdom.

Donkey-skin knew of Karlheinz. Infamous for his scandalous private life, the only thing that made other rulers fear him was his penchant for randomly conquering other lands with the mere caprice of his mood.

She steeled herself for an audience with him.

They'd buried Azusa's arm in the garden at Karlheinz's castle, under a tree with twisting branches. "You have your brothers now, Azusa. You're not alone." She'd murmured, her hand on his shoulder as he'd stared mournfully at the patch of ground.

"What will...we do now, Eve?" He asked softly, once they were seated on a nearby porch overlooking the gardens.

She thought of what she intended to say to Karlheinz. "My kingdom is in shambles because of my Father's rule. It would be better for everyone if he were overthrown. Karlheinz can do that, if I tell him the right ways to infiltrate the city." It was the same thought she'd planned to share the Prince at the royal ball.

Azusa looked at her. "Will that...bring you happiness?"

"I don't know." She admitted quietly.

She jumped when soft fingers cupped her cheek, turning her face to his.

Depthless emotion stared back at her, so intense it bordered on overwhelming. "Let me...make you happy, Eve. Don't be afraid..." 

He bent to capture her lips with a hungry rush. Donkey-skin inhaled sharply, before she felt Azusa's kiss soften. His mouth became a confusing sensation, yielding under hers one moment but then pressing firmly the next. When his tongue slid between her teeth, she tensed, but his hand grabbed hers, raising it to his cheek. Her fingers strayed of their own accord into feather-like hair, the soft wisps brushing her forehead as they pressed close.

She felt his arm wrap around her waist, pulling their bodies taut against each other. When his tongue swept deeper into her mouth, she shuddered all over. Azusa broke away to pant softly, desire darkening his gaze as the fingers at her waist dug in.

The wordless need inside her that sought his comforting strangeness made her muscles shift forward, until she found herself straddling him. The cool surface of the wood under her knees contrasted with the hard, warm body beneath her.

"Ne...can we... become one?" He murmured, his single hand slowly caressing the plains of her back. She gripped his shoulders, breathing out unsteadily when he bent forward to nuzzle her neck, tongue dragging across heated flesh.

The disgust wasn't there. Her heart hammered like a drum, but she didn't feel sickened. Azusa's touches were light, but betrayed a strength beneath them. Something entirely sinful blackened his gaze, completely at odds with his innocent face. And yet, she was not afraid.

"Yes," she murmured, surprising herself with the yearning in her voice.

His hips rolled, rigid length clearly in need of friction as it ground harshly, the heat of it throbbing through multiple layers of clothing. She hissed as it rubbed her sex, and found herself mimicking his movements. His teeth scraped her neck, those soft strands of his hair tickling her chin as he bit down, breaking the skin. A low, embarrassing sound slipped past her mouth. Azusa chuckled as he sucked her flesh, leaving behind a red mark which he touched reverently.

More grinding, moaning, sucking, more shame at how Azusa could make her core clench and ache. Juices slipped down between her thighs.

His hand eased down between them to touch her, rubbing with an almost bruising pressure. It was enough to set off fireworks as she trembled on his lap. Azusa glanced down and then up at her, trying and failing with something. She noticed his frustrated silence, and suddenly understood.

Shifting above him, she reached down, freeing his length with slow movements. Azusa released an unsteady breath, his eyes dark, steeped with sorrow.

She murmured that it was alright, but he leaned forward, cheek brushing hers. "I want...to hold you properly. But I...I..."

Donkey-skin shook her head, grabbing his hand and wrapping his arm around her waist. She leaned up, giving herself enough room to slide her underwear and stockings down, before lowering herself back down. She sank herself slowly onto his aching erection, and he made a noise of surprise. Gritting her teeth at the invasive feeling, her hands tightened on his shoulders.

The foreign sensation sank deeper, until he was buried inside her. They panted, breaths mingling. "You- you can hold me. The arm around me right now is all we'll ever need. I- I don't...I've never felt this good before." She assured him.

Wide, dazed eyes stared into hers, before his face became intent, serious. His hips rammed up, making her cling to his shoulders. Her mouth hung open wordlessly as he began to move, gripping her close with that one arm.

It was messy, heinous and dripping. A palpable mixture of sweet and sin that made her quiver and beg incoherently. Her fingers dug deep rivets into his shoulders.

He groaned, tongue sweeping up her neck to hiss lustily in her ear. "Harder…even…harder…"

Lost in sensation, she didn't know what he meant, but her hips began to move with his, nails sinking deeper, leaving crescent moons. They gasped and clung to each other, heedless of the sounds of their bodies moving.

When she felt something snap within her, she sought his hair, sliding her fingers between the strands. Overwhelmed, she quaked around him, squeezing her eyes shut and trying not to let dark thoughts creep inside her flesh. Azusa groaned and dropped his head to her shoulder, finishing with a quiet, shuddering moan inside her.

They stayed locked together, breathing heavily. "Will you always care for me, Azusa?" She murmured, almost to herself.

"Of course...Eve is...my most precious person."

Her throat constricted, and she squeezed her lashes shut. In the furthermost corners of her mind, she begged his words to be true.

A great, dark plume of smoke rose high, spiraling into the heavens above. The scent of ash and burning flesh infested the air.

Donkey-skin stood before the castle gates. Her old home had been set ablaze during the siege of Karlhienz's armies. With the information she'd given him, he'd made quick work of infiltrating the city and striking at the heart of the kingdom.

She looked at the thing on the ground with glass-like eyes. Her revenge was complete. The dreadful feeling within her should have been purged, but it persisted, festering like a wound.

The hate in Cook's eyes as realization had dawned came back.

"You...this is your fault, isn't it? You brought this on us." Cook had sneered, rage blackening her voice. "And for what? To 'free' us?" She'd spat at the former princess' feet. "Stop kiddin’ yourself, lass. You only did this to get back at your old man. And look how many have died for it."

Donkey-skin barely noticed the damage of the city. Her mind was cast adrift somewhere buried but not forgotten. 

His hand touched her hair. His hands...big, strong and familiar. The touch was so comforting it made her smile.

"Father."

The scent of his corpse filled her lungs.

"Eve." Azusa's soft voice reached her ears, just as fingers wrapped around her frozen hand.

Her hood was gently pulled back, revealing a raw, tear stained face. Lips chapped and heart shuddering with the effort it took to smile, she looked at him. "Can you...still care for me now, Azusa?" The ugliness inside her heart now had tangible form, mingling within the ashes.

He didn't hesitate, his ardent gaze not glancing once at the bodies strewn around the courtyard. His eyes reflected her, only her. He stroked the inside of her wrist adoringly, as if she were one of his scars. "Even if Eve is cast out of hell...I will always...be by her side."