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thesharktanksdriver · 1 year ago

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Determination! (Platonic)

Warning for this chapter: fisher tigers part is much more serious. It’s talks of slavery and while it isnt too graphic it does included a lot of mature themes. If that makes you uncomfortable please skip over it

You find that your dreams are very disjointed

Granted, you normally don’t dream at all

It’s typically just empty blackness as you fall into unconsciousness and then back into the waking world

But when you do have a dream every once in a blue moon

It’s…odd

Even for Dream standards you think their somewhat odd

The voices of those long past that you’d met cheering you on

Flashes of multicoloured sparks

The endless expanse of space as you stare at a star

It’s an old one, a dying one

Your not sure how you know that information yet you do

And you watch it die with sparkling eyes

It implodes on itself

Creating a massive explosion of light and energy that dispersed throughout the galaxy

Bright white light shattering into every colour imaginable into the void of space

The energy going in every corner of the universe

A supernova

Your not sure how you know that word but it comes into your mind

Perhaps it hasn’t even been invented yet because you know for a fact that knowledge on stars was vastly limited

Yet that doesn’t stop you from knowing knowledge you never knew before

You reach out towards the remnants of the dead star in a trance

The cheers of the dead yelling “stay determined!”

You open your mouth to eat the star shards

And then you wake up

How curious

Sun Pirates

In your time adrift at the endless sea you had come across many people of many races

Humans, odd winged people, mermaids, devil fruit users, marines and pirates

So it doesn’t come as a surprise when you come across a group of fishmen sailing the sea

They all look over deck at you with a mixture of expressions

Some worry, others pity and some with conflict

But as they all watch a Fishman with rose red skin, a tattoo of a sun on his chest and black hair tied back with a bandanna

He ushers them aside to look Down at you from what you assume to be his ship

“Hi! Do any of you know what part of the sea I’m in?. I think it’s the north blue? But I’m not sure. You’d think with the amount of time I’ve been afloat I’d be able to tell but-“

“Kid are you alone?!”

“Do you see anyone else on this ship?”

You don’t have much of a choice before your brought upon their ship

To their surprise though your not scared?

In fact you seem rather amused at the predicament your in

One that would usually leave normal people scared shitless

But it’s easy for the entire crew to tell your not a normal kid

Especially as you seem to find interest in what type of marine animals each member is

Even more so when you ask about how the capabilities/features of said marine animal

It’s…odd how knowledgeable you are despite your young age

And when they ask about it you just say “I know from experiences on the sea”

Like the fuck is that supposed to mean when your talking about the dangerous venom of the stonefish

They are worried

Like real worried

Some are still off put by the fact your a human but with how your talking the mixture of shock and concern overpower it

God they never thought they’d be fretting over a human but when you talk in visceral odd detail about how sharks occasionally eat people when desperate or confusing them for other prey

It’s a bit freaky

Doesn’t help that it’s oddly specific which makes it seem much more personal

And how you explain all these facts with a completely wide smile not noticing how their all horrified

Their captain Fisher tiger is especially worried when he questions you about how you ended up alone at sea in the first place

He keeps pressing you on the matter but always gets the same response of “I set out to sea and haven’t looked back” and “I’m not sure if my island exists anymore. It’s not like anyone would remember me, I’ve been gone for such a long time”

That implies so much and at the same time is very vague

This poor man is a few migraines away from bashing his head against a wall

But other than that and the worry he finds you to be an interesting kid

While watching you interact with his crew he notices that you treat them all as regular people

You don’t make snide comments nor do you go off of stereotypes to categorize them

Instead you see them as their own individual people

People who were owed respect no matter their race or appearance

And even when a few aren’t exactly the most friendly towards you your respect

Giving them space as you see their uncomfortable

For a kid your emotionally aware in a way that even most adults can’t compare

You can tell if someone has deep rooted trauma and don’t push the subject

Going out of your way not to bring up bad memories associated with humans if your presence did so

There were seemingly no bad feelings about it either

Just pure understanding in your eyes from possible personal experience

Even when he harbours hate for you it’s brushed off as seemingly nothing personal

When your not conversing your quietly helping around

Somehow knowing how to raise the sails and properly clean the deck

Never telling anyone of your deeds and just doing them to help out

It’s clear by how organic it is for you that your used to doing it

Yet your own …”ship” is something more akin to a poorly put together raft

Everything about you is odd

And for a long while he isn’t sure if that’s good or bad

Fisher is a man haunted by the actions inflicted upon him

A shared trauma among all his people from humans

He does not discriminate when rescuing slaves but he still has his own afflictions towards humans

The actions of them still on his skin and baring his soul

Yet he allows you on his ship despite it

Because he knows your a child

Someone who had not harmed him nor his people

Someone who’s innocent to the horrors of the world

To the harm done by your race

He grapples with his own hated for you because of something you cannot pick

He feels guilty and horrible for it

Yet the look in your eyes says that you understand him somehow

And that makes him feel worse

A child should not understand hatred from others

Let alone understand why he feels hatred towards them

And then also accept it with such empathy

it hurts

he's reminded of the guards who used to sneer at him for being who he was

you feel no sadness due to his gaze

only kindness as you do your best to avoid him

in some sense you understand why he gazes at you that way

you can't blame him, not when you yourself had been victim of the abuse of your own kind

looked down upon as dirt

seen as lesser

what hurts worse though is that you can't solely blame one group like he and some of his men can do

your human and your hurt by other humans

maybe it's worse in some aspects

it's why you give an understanding look in your eyes despite his occasional glare

Jinbe is perhaps the one you spend the most time with on the ship other than Hatchan

There is apprehension at first but what follows after a short period of time is kindness

Your just a kid

One not guilty for the crimes of others

He can’t blame someone’s actions on you

Especially when your nothing but respectful to them all despite their hesitation due to your race

He reminds you of a gentle giant which is fitting with what marine animal he’s acquainted to

Most times spent with him are ones where he listens to your words

Finding interest and intrigue in your stories and facts of the sea

It seems far fetched a child experienced all this but the look in your eyes says it’s true

The small mementos that hang on your form like hand woven bracelets, necklaces of shells and shark teeth, a coat befit for a captain hanging on your shoulders and bandana tied around your forehead to keep your hair tangled with pearls back

Their all signs that somehow your tales are true

As amazing and horrifying as they seem their true

And it leaves him feeling anxious

Your a good kid

Maybe one of the best he’s met so far and seeing the wear and tear on you hits him hard

You put up a smile and bare through whatever someone throws your way

Never once speaking back unless your standing up for someone besides yourself

It’s admirable but he sees how it has worn you down

Once upon a time he can imagine you smiling out of actual joy

And now it’s a mechanism for you to write off your pain

Your selfless to a fault

And on the sea people take advantage of that

But perhaps you already experienced that

And it leaves Jinbe’s stomach swirling with unease

He frets over you like a mother hen when you throw all regard for safety away and when you get something simple like a paper cut cause he knows either way you won’t care to tend to your own wounds

He honestly at the point wonders if this is what being a mother feels like

But he can’t contemplate that long cause Arlong is being a dick once again

Tension with him was high before but now Jinbe has half the mind to knock him square in the jaw if he kicks you again

And now he has half the mind to shake some sense into you when you walk it off

God he needs some sort of therapist cause he does not know how to help you beyond being protective and patching you up

It’s obvious that your hurt beyond repair on the inside

The times he’s found you just simply staring off towards the sea with a dead look in your eyes is a testament to that

A call of longing in long gone innocent eyes that still retain kindness despite it all

In those moments he just sits by your side and holds you

You grasp him like a lifeline

Something anchoring you down to reality as your mind makes you remember

He tells stories of fishmen island to distract you

He noticed though that when he tells of the promise to fishmen island from joyboy something in your eyes light up

Sparkles of light within them that dance but then fizzle away after a moment along with a shiver gliding down his back for some reason

He writes it off though

Just going back to his tales

It’s under yet another moon lit night you end up staring out at sea again

Memories of the past swirling in your mind like a hurricane

You can’t help it

Not after being reminded of one life you particularly didn’t like

You didn’t mean to overhear Fisher and Jinbe but it just happened

The captain of the crew talking about his time as a slave

The horror inflicted upon him at the hands of humans

You just keep staring out at the water

Burying yourself deeper into your subconscious trying to escape

But you can’t

Too distracted by the memories that you don’t even notice the two coming out the captains quarters to find you

Vacantly staring out at sea

Your staring out at the water

A deep empty stare

Darkness swirling in your irises

Occasionally you twitch, a jolt of imaginary pain burning your back once more

You sometimes still feel the pain of the brand that luckily now doesn’t haunt your skin

You hadn’t felt it in a long while until you realized after hearing him talk the tattoo of the sun on him was his brand covered up

It served as some sort of trigger

The memories came flooding back

The pain

The torture

The screams

The death

The rot

The overwhelming plea for death in a hell that became a limbo realm

Your hands trace the symbol on the wood lightly

Every couple of months (or maybe years? Your not sure) these thoughts and memories came up

It’s a normal cycle for you

Yet now they hit harder after seeing his tattoo

Cause it makes you think of them

Of the 3 sisters, the names of you never got as your mind makes the effort to forget what you experienced

Up until now you always had the worry of forgetting

You had been alive for a long time

so much so that your memories are inconsistent and blur together

Yet your time as a slave is something clear in your head that you wish erase

To wipe clean from your mind and bury

Yet you can’t will yourself to forget them

Because of those 3 girls you’d befriended over scraps of dry bread

Of the shared pain that was all understood from the four of you

Crying silently together while huddled in the dark

Cleaning one another’s bruises

The eldest girl of the bunch holding you one night when noticing your shivering form, the other two following in the action of huddling around you

A budding friendship formed from barely any words but silent understanding and conversations though looks

You can’t abandon their memory even if it’s attached to other ones you wished to bleach from your mind

It’s there staring into the darkened water you mutter 2 words that had been erased from your mind out of fear

“Celestial dragons”

The words are spat out like a curse yet your tone is full of emptiness

It’s something only someone affected by them could say in such a tone

Perhaps that’s why Fisher now looks at you with realization

“You…you were one too?”

“Yeah, it…I think it was a couple years back, I’m not sure though. The passage of time is hard for me to notice anymore, it all blurs together. Hell I can barely remember my life before the sea, I know I had parents and then they died but…I can’t remember their faces. Anyways, I was captured and sold, ended up in some dungeon.” For a moment you pause going over your memories as you pinch your chin in thought, the way you speak about it is nonchalant yet holds a lot of untold weight “it’s a blur of pain, I remember it specifically on my back. I try to limit how clear it is cause I don’t specifically like remembering it. There were these 3 girls though, sisters who all ended up in the same cell as me. We found kinship in our situation, I gave them the scraps of food I got since they needed it more than me.”

“Do you know what happened to them?” At hearing this you turn to Jinbe, a solemn expression crossing your face as an answer

“Not sure. I…like to hope that their ok, that they found their way back home” your tone is anything but hopeful, cracking with gloom that’s evident in your eyes “but hoping is all I can do. I wished for death when I was there, hoping they’d just finish me off so I could move on. At some point though I began to hope, those 3 girls needed someone there for them and I hoped I could remain just for them”

“Why’d you escape then?”

“I didn’t have choice.”

“What do you mean? That doesn’t really make sense”

They watch as an odd look forms in your eyes

They sparkle with unknown mystery

Something old and sentimental

Something ancient despite the young face you have

“Can you keep a secret?”

They look at one another for a moment

A silent conversation between the two

Jinbe is the one who nods first, your gaze then shifting to Fisher who takes a moment to look at you

He never noticed it till now but your eyes have something about them that…seems inhuman

For a second he swears he even sees stars sparkle in them

Great big shining stars that light the night sky’s and allow sailors to navigate the treacherous seas they love and call home

Stars that when he looks at reminds him of his freedom

Of not staring at the ceiling of a cage

Stars he wished to grasp at back in the days he wore shackles

Stars that for some reason now seemed to shine brighter, as if mirroring your resolve

He nods, watching a moment of vulnerability shine through eyes that look blank for a child

Eyes that have seen horrors

Eyes that had lost their twinkle of innocence yet still retain childlike charm in viewing the world

Eyes that sparkle of something ancient and old, residing in the depths of your irises like a great deity in the void of the night sky

“Have you heard about a star that never dies?” And so you begin your tale

By the time your done your tale they both sit there in silence

A deafening and choking silence that grips at you like the old collar of rusting steel or ball and chain that used to be attached to your leg

A sign of having your freedom weighed down

Locked away

You had once tried to break that leg but the girls stopped you

The eldest of them crying for you to stop

So you did

You watch them both stay in silence

And then see the tears line their eyes

And then they crumble like a cracked heart

Jinbe falling first as he grips you

Strong and battle-worn hands now soft and gentle

Afraid that you’d fade away

Afraid what would happen if he let go

It’s what you expected from him

But then You look to Fisher and find him in a similar state much to your surprise, if not he might be even worse than how Jinbe is handling what you told

Pure grief in his eyes

Regret

Pain

Solidarity

Familiarity

And most of all empathy

It pours out from him like his tears

Like a waterfall with never ending raging water crashing down onto the rocks

it’s loud and passionate

Covers up the internal screams of the past latching back onto him, into the lingering scars

Stinging Pain sinking back into those same spots like the angry gnashing claws of a beast

He’s hurting

But so are you

Your hurting together through shared experiences and ones he could never wish to experience

Jinbe holds you for a long while

Time melts away as do the phantom pains of those long past days

You hold him back

The soft material of his yukata pulling you in even further

Warmth

Comfort

Understanding

And your unspoken words of ‘thank you’ to his of ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry’

You let time melt away a little more as they find themselves once more

“Why did you tell us this?” Fisher asks this with tears still falling down his face. Jinbe holds you close, webbed hand behind your head as he pulls you closer. You hear the waves lapping at the boat and the beats of his heart, it thumps like a drum. Rhythmically helping your equally torn apart emotions.

“I heard you talking about your experience. I thought it’s fair that I do the same” it’s said in such a simple manner that it makes the two fishmen reel back in shock for the third time in a night. It’s said in such sincerity and innocence, as if that was something normal “an equal exchange,If you will”

The crew watch on in confusion the next morning at the expression of thinking Fisher has on his face

Along with the clear signs of crying that Jinbe and him hold

People push but neither say a word

They say it isn’t their story to tell as their eyes trail back to you sitting with Hatchan

Playing a game innocently

Obliviously

Like a regular kid

Most don’t push after their captains grim expression

The look in his eyes

Some keep their curiosity to a low lit flame yet don’t get anywhere on the account they can’t get you to spill anything and Jinbe doesn’t exactly like them being nosey

So it eventually fizzles out

Things back back to normal

You tell your tales

Show them games they’d never played

You in turn learn more about fishman and mermaid society

But then you leave just as abruptly as you appeared

It’s weird to say but at a diner with them all as shanties are sung you just randomly say that soon you’ll be leaving

And despite how most of them hate to admit it

They didn’t want you to go

Hatchan is comically crying as a few others stubbornly argue against it

That it’s dangerous and you could get yourself killed

They look to Fisher and Jinbe who had been more observant of you as of late (if that’s even more humanly possible for Jinbe)

But their met with a reaction none had thought would happen

They object

They say it’s your choice and they can’t shackle you here

The sea was your home

And so the decision for your leave was cemented

In the days leading up to it you spend time with most the crew

But they all notice that at night you and their captain look out to the sky at night

Silence conversations happening through mere looks

pure understanding

Just pure solemn understanding

None make comments on it if they see it

Don’t mention it and forget it ever happened out of respect for both parties

And when the time comes to leave they all watch (some crying even) while waving goodbye

You promise them you’d meet again

“You’ll all be at sea right? Then that means you’ll definitely see me again someday! Wait and see! Grasp your freedom strong and tight, never take it forgranted”

Fisher watches and waves as you drift off into the distance, he holds a gentle smile

He hopes he’d meet you again

Hopes that perhaps you’d somehow end up on fishman island and talk to his people

As much as he thought Otohime’s talks of humans and fishmen working together in harmony were a naive and impossible dream

Perhaps if there were more humans like you it could work

And maybe

Just maybe

It would help both sides see that in the end neither were that different from one another

In your words on the silent night before you left “we both bleed, we feel and in the end we both have the same fates don’t we?. At heart no matter if your fishman, mermaid, human or anything else we experience the same gifts of life. We are all equal in the fact we are born on this earth and die here, and with that comes the desire for freedom and the pursuit of happiness”

He and his crew still have a lot to grapple with on the road to change

But you helped them start the first steps in overcoming the hate for your kind

A young immortal human child who had seen horrors upon horrors

Inflicted by their own kind that they will never stop loving with all their heart

Because you believe that inherently almost every sentient creature is born with kindness in them. It’s the world that corrupts it

When they are asked to take a former slave girl back to her hometown he does not have any hesitation to do so

He hopes that this is the next step in overcoming his hatred

Mihawk

Mihawk thought he was going to have a nice and relaxing day

His morning had been going great, a nice glass of red wine before he trained, a good breakfast

And then when he went outside of his castle there he finds is a young child looking around confused

….god damn it

So yeah, you died and just randomly appeared on the island that houses the greatest swordsman currently in the world

Not exactly your first choice but it wasn’t the worse

Well wasn’t bad instil the swordsman himself shows up looking as confused as you were

Yeah seems like you have some explaining to do

And dying or running away wouldn’t exactly help with the endeavour either since he seems intent on an answer

So here you are

In a gothic mansion lead by Mihawk into a room as he calmly sits down and asks you to explain

Now

And so you do

Well…you do the best you can to explain your entire situation as he sits there with a blank expression

By the end he just sighs

To be honest he’s not sure if he believes it or not but he takes it as an answer for now

And after that you two form an odd friendship and routine as you spend your time on his island

To his pleasure your polite and not loud

Silently watching him train or go about his day

Along with that conversations with you are actually quite pleasant

Mihawk is a man of very few words

Only shanks is able to get him talking with the help of finely aged booze

Yet talking with you comes naturally as breathing the air around him

It’s intriguing

Especially as it seems your story isn’t a bluff for how personally and detailed your recounts of events are

Colour him impressed

you talk of Roger in a way that only Shanks could do

Describe the gods valley event with details only found in classified marine files

Not only that but your also a good storyteller

Telling such events in glorious ways that he can’t help but listen to the liquid gold that is your voice

The treasure trove of stories that flow out your mind

He must admit that he can’t help but sit on the edge of his seat

Wanting to hear more

In this time he comes to care for you

Your a child eternally

One in a cruel world that preys on the weak

While you may be strong mentally (god knows if you hadn’t then you would’ve gone insane) but physical your not

What doesn’t help is your total and utter lack of self awareness

God knows the amount of times he’d saved your ass from being killed by Humandrills

After awhile they seem to get the memo of leaving you alone but that still doesn’t stop you from almost dying in other ways

Almost walking off a cliff

Almost falling into a river

Almost getting hit by a piece of falling stone

He is now paranoid and trails you like a shadows or has you stick around him incase of yet another near death incident

God is this what being a dad feels like? Cause that’s how Mihawk feels at this point

He has half the mind to buy a child leash or something similar

Cause if you wander off one more time and almost die he’s gonna-

You make his stress levels go through the roof

Doesn’t help you completely brush of dying as no big deal

As if being eaten that one time isn’t traumatic as hell

He wonders if his position of warlord has some sort of health benefits cause he might look into therapy

Not that you think you need it though, you think your completely fine yet he begs to differ

You find it funny how stoic he is yet you can read him like a book

He shows his growing care through actions

Like making breakfast or decorating a spare room of his castle to something more suited to your taste

The unspoken offer of “if you need a place to stay your always welcome here” through these actions

A silent way of also prepping for you leaving

He knows that moment is coming

Especially as your small “boat” drifts ashore

He’s hardly call that a boat but nether the less it floats on water and you call it a boat

In your time preparing to leave he insists on at least teaching you the basics of using a sword

The proper positioning of your grip and stance

How to give a powerful slash

You pick up quickly, years of watching experienced swordsmen coming into play

He’s proud yet worry sows itself into his brow

Your a kind soul

One that has been put through untold hell and back

Even the strongest sword can bend and break if pressure is put on the perfect point

He doesn’t know what your breaking point will be but he’s worried

Cause inevitably it’s bound to happen

He at least has some peace of mind knowing he taught you how to fight

And when he sends you off he promises that when you next meet he’d have Sword fit for you

The castle feels more lonely without your small pitter patter of footsteps

The air is still when it should be filled with your stories of old

The garden takes more effort than he remembers when your not there to pull out the weeds

The Humandrills seem to miss your presence

It’s odd but you’d left such an impact in such a small amount of time

Mihawk wouldn’t have it any other way though

Hiriluk

Recently on the spring island you found yourself on there had been rumours of a thief going by

Normally this wouldn’t had caught your attention

But one day as you walk past an odd eccentric man with Snow White hair in a ridiculous manner with clearly stolen objects you can’t help but be intrigued

Especially as he shifts into an alleyway, leaning against the grimy wall with a hand over his heart

Coughs racking his entire form

Almost crumbling down as the subsequent spoils of his stealing fall as well

It’s then and there you become invested in this odd man

His story

So you decide to help him

For someone’s who’s a thief you’d thinks he’d be less enthusiastic about giving out his name

But your sorrily mistaken (in a good way) as the man introduces himself as Hiriluk

A master thief of the grand line

A plunderer of countless treasures and various tales

You nod along

Listening intently to his words as you help walk him to his hideout

The poor man is still shaken after his illness acting up again

Apparently as of late it’s been worse, so much so that he fears his days are now limited

But despite that he keeps a quite chipper attitude

Somehow finding enjoyment despite his circumstances

He’s…much like yourself in that sense

Finding joy even in the bleak conditions of your reality

It…is nice in some sense

To find someone a lot like yourself in mindset

Makes conversation much more interesting as you both talk of similar viewpoints

Much like you he is plagued with a curse that follows him everywhere he goes

From island to island

No matter the pace he canning escape his disease

A factor of his life that he must now deal with as he enjoys the time he has left

He’d given up on a cure by now

But…despite that you can’t help but research a bit to at least try

He appreciates the effort but solemnly admits that he’s tried everything

Hell, his island is known for their doctors and they couldn’t help him

He’s a lost cause like anyone with white lead disease

It’s a fact he accepts

And sadly you do so as well

Your stand only works for you

It’s entire purpose is for its user and not for anyone else

Not versatile or has any multiple uses

At least not that you knew of anyways

So on that factor you can’t do anything

So as you accept that fact you instead focus on spending time with the man

Listening to him get drunk and talk of someone named Kureha

An “old witch” with a stubborn edge and sharp tongue

But also has a kind heart

Someone who became a doctor for a reason, to help others as best she could even if she caused some chaos in the process

An odd one just like him (and you he adds with a smile) someone who didn’t fit in with the crowd

But maybe that was ok

Being different could very much be a curse for several reasons

Especially in a judgmental society that is maintained by the world government

But that otherness was also a blessing

Weirdness serving as a catalyst for so many wonderful things

For new ideas

For stubborn creativity that wouldn’t be snuffed out but instead burn bright

For brining together the people society looked down upon and giving them a chance to rise up

Your stay on the island is coming to a close but despite that Hiriluk doesn’t panic or seem depressed at the thought

Instead he finds happiness in the time still left

The conversations that have been spoken

The time he has left in this world being used for something truly nice

Not just stealing

Instead now truly engaging with life

The spring island your both on is now at its fullest bloom

The place was somewhat famous for how beautiful it was but neither of you had yet to see it

So the day before you go you asked if he’d like to go see it with you before you left

A last hurrah

One that would be spent watching the cherry blossoms in full bloom and have lunch

He agreed

The next morning is spent with him getting snacks of all kinds

Him packing them in a small basket as you lead him with the directions you got from locals

The two of you go up the hill overlooking the light pink trees in full bloom

His hand gripping yours as he goes still in shook

The sight is breath taking

Even the air from your lungs is seemingly sucked out at the sight of the trees in full bloom

The petals gently cascading down like snow around you

Getting stuck in your hair and pooling in his cupped hands

His eyes tear up and stare down at the pink petals

It’s breathtaking

And for the first time in a long while he feels ok

There was no blockage in his chest

Nor the looming grip of death on his shoulders

He felt cured

Like an average man that he always wanted to

The dream of his that died long ago in a doctors office when they said it was incurable

But now as he stares he feels hope

Something igniting in him in place of his Illness

These small fluttering petals had an impact on him just as you had

It cured him somehow

You showing him this magical sight cured him

And now he wanted to do that for others

He wanted to show the people of his bleak winter island this magnificent sight

To see pink instead of the white fluttering snow

To see trees not covered in snow that dampened their beauty

To feel the air escape their lungs

The lunch goes by quickly as does your leaving but both of you do so with a smile

He sets off with a new goal and you wish him luck

Telling him that you believe he’d somehow come up with a solution cause people like the two if you always did somehow

He smiles

When he returns back to his home island he sets out to be a doctor

To help cure others just as you had done with him

Some of The petals he collected that day kept in a small glass jar he kept as a souvenir and for testing

When Kureha calls him crazy he takes the words in pride

Recalling back on your time spent together

That odd little kid who had a spirit beyond their days

One who would humour his ramblings

Took him to that fateful place of blooming Sakura that would go on to change his life course forever

A parting gift in both an experience and in changing his life for the good

So he works on bringing that miracle to the winter island he lives on

Despite how impossible it seems he tries

And he tries and tries

And he keeps going despite how many times he is pushed down by yet another failure

You motivate him

The gift you gave him that he wants to share with others motivated him

His new student that in a lot of ways reminds him of you motivated him

Chopper sometimes still wonders why Hiriluk had taken him in

It lingers on the small reindeer’s mind

And it’s glaringly obvious what he’s thinking making the old “doctor” laugh

“Us weirdo’s have to stick together. I learned that from a friend of mine” as he says this the small blue nosed reindeer watches as the man pulls a framed photo off the wall. In it is him and a child with a large smile. “Hopefully one day you’ll meet them.”

“You…do you think they would accept me?”

Hiriluk let’s our a large laugh at that, clutching his sides as small tears line his eyes “if they hung around a old crazy coot like me then I’m sure they’d love you”

His young apprentice feels hope at his words

Sometimes silently staring at the picture with faint hope that one day he’d meet the doctor-….no his dad’s old friend

Perhaps in the future

But for now he had to help him find a cure

His sickness is getting worse and chopper doesn’t now if he could live with himself if he didn’t find a cure

His only lead as of now is some mushroom that can apparently cure anything

It’s a long shot but he has to try

He gazes as the photo once more

Hiriluk’s smiling face staring back along with your own

He’ll make sure Hiriluk will get to see you again

He promises it

With that the young reindeer sets off in the snow

Whenever you see the cascading petals of cherry blossoms you wonder how that odd doctor was doing

Brook

It was at reverse mountain that you had found yourself being picked up by a particular crew

The rumbar pirates had originated in the west blue

A musical band of jolly singing pirates with instruments of all kinds

All of which varied from different islands and cultures

Brough together in musical harmony

It’s amazing to you how music seems to come to them wordlessly

They play and magic is produced from their songs

So much so a baby whale follows them in their journey and is now waiting for them to return

A promise they intend to keep as the travel the sea like any good crew

Whilst the captain and crew are welcoming and friendly there’s one person in particular your drawn to

Brook is a fun and free soul

Constantly with a smile or chuckling out his odd but charming laugh

The musician teaches you piano as best he can

His hands guiding yours as the crew eagerly watch with bright smiles

Eventually as they sing and dance he has you play side by side with him

Placing his top hat in your head as they all call you “mini brook”

It’s fun

Especially as the giant of a man picks up his violin and lets you play alone

The two of you stringing together a melody that the others join in on

Dancing and singing with slurred speech and jumbled steps

Those nights feel like a haze in your mind

One with a rosy tinted filter overtop those memories

Of the songs sung

The dancing as the crew took turns showing you their groove

Taking your hands into their own and your feet atop theirs as they showed you to dance

But then the music began to die

Despite your many deaths you’d experienced and saw of pirates

This was one that was common yet still chilling

Illness

Honestly with how many ships you’d been on your surprised you’d never experienced a death like this

And it’s certainly one you’d never thought they’d have to suffer through

It starts off as one person

And then it spreads

Brook and the others keep you away from the sight

Telling you that they were just hungover

You don’t tell them you know hangovers don’t last several days

As others being to fall Brook keeps to at least trying to keep the facade of things are fine in front of you

Even as he has to take the place of their captain

He has a good facade

But you hear his sobs at night

For his fallen Crew and the fact it’s still spreading

And for you

By god is he worried for you

They’d all talked of the possibility of having you take your small shipped tied to their own and leave

But they all agree it’s too big of a risk

Their at the middle of the sea, it would be a death sentence if they let you go on your own

They can’t have that happen

Even if there’s still a chance here that you’ll die

There’s still the possibility that at least someone will spot their ship

That help can come and at least rescue you

So for now they have you stay

The symptoms come slowly

You feel more tired

Burning up

Laboured breath

Their all mortified as you one day pass out on deck

When you wake up your tucked into bed

Nearby someone sobs

You recognize his voice and blurred figure despite your senses being dulled

Small shaky hands reach for his

And he reciprocated the action repeating that he’s sorry

That he’s so sorry

That it’s his fault

That he was supposed to keep you safe

You say it isn’t his fault but it falls on deaf ears

He keeps crying even as he coughs

You keep saying it’s alright even as it feels harder to breath

Eventually even though everyone is dead or on the brink of dying they decide to do one last number

One last piece

Binks booze

You sit beside Brook having to lean against him for support as both his and your hands drift along the ivory keys

The songs plays full force

The few left playing the tune

Some cheerfully sing with smiles and dance withe one another

But they fall first

Dying with smiles despite it all

You sing in their place along with those who are left

The singing goes down by one as yet another falls down

Violin clattering to the floor

You sing louder in his place despite how your lungs burn and throat feels as if needles scrape against it

Another violinist goes down after this

Brook shakes beside you

He keeps up a smile

You do so as well but tears escape your eyes

A quartet

The cello goes down

A trio

His smile wavers and tears trail down his face now

He’s breaking

The final goes down now

It’s just you and Brook left, but you feel yourself getting weaker

The edges of your eyes have black dotes and every time you close them it’s harder to open them once more

A duet

You keep playing for his sake

He looks down at you sobbing silently as he continues to play

Their flag waves silently in the wind

“I’m not sure how longer I can play…do you think you can do a solo?”

Tearfully he nods

Playing as you sing

Continuing even after the lyrics stop flowing from your mouth and you slump down into his side

A solo

He cries

Eventually the piano comes to a close

Despite there being no skeleton of you to put with the rest of the memorial Brook doesn’t question it

The sight of Your body disappearing into golden light was just a trick of the mind all those years ago to help with the grief of him failing you

He knows he went insane a long time ago

He’s spent years alone at sea mulling over their deaths, of yours and the promise to Laboon

His mind is long gone as he wanders the old tattered ship that used to be filled with song

Despite it all he tries to put up a mask of being happy

But he never sings

Never plays music

He can’t deal with another solo

Can’t deal with that last performance

Sometimes he thinks of the songs they made

The one the crew made about you that surprisingly got popular

Based off the odd tales of stars you talked about

An undying one

He wonders if it still plays

You remember they made a song about you

It’s long forgotten to the many new sailors of the sea

But on occasion you hear it from old souls. Those who had traveled the seas for many years and had retained the songs and myths now forgotten to the new

The sound of it always makes you smile, but it is tinged with sadness as you do so

Whenever it is sung or Binks Booze you promised yourself you’d always join in

A promise to them, that kind musical crew all those years ago that suffered a horrible death from a bad stroke of luck

You carry their memory along with Laboon

Whenever you end up at reverse mountain you always sing the songs they once did to ease the whales heart ache

It can only do so much but Laboon at least stops jutting against the mountain momentarily

Wanting to one day reunite with those jolly sailors

You wish you could one day do the same

But for now you carry their memories

Their songs that house the remnants of their souls

Sometimes you swear you see their rotting ship

But you always wave it off as missing them

Of delusions of your mind as you stare out into the darkness of the sea

#platonic #one piece x reader #brook x reader #hiriluk x reader #mihawk x reader #dracule Mihawk x reader #Jinbe x reader #fisher tiger x reader

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tenderleavesbob · 4 months ago

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"Warriors," Twilight whispered. "Captain. Please. Open your eyes."

That was definitely Twilight's voice, but it sounded odd. Warriors couldn't quite place it.

He heard a pained whinny from somewhere. Was it Epona? Was she hurt?

"I bet you don't feel the greatest right now, but I need for you to open your eyes, Cap. It'll be okay. Everythin' will be okay."

Twilight used that tone when one of the boys was scared or hurt. Was everyone all right? What happened?

"You can do it, Cap. Open your pretty eyes now."

Warriors had no choice. He opened his eyes.

Everything was blurry at first. His head hurt. Hell, everything hurt. It felt like he had blown himself up again. Maybe he had. Impa always scolded him that he was too enthusiastic with the fire rod.

Wolfie slowly came into focus in front of him. Warriors squinted. Wolfie panted and his tail wagged like he was a dog and not a wolf. "There you are. I was getting worried."

Twilight's voice, clear as day. Except it was Wolfie, not Twilight. "What?" Warriors asked blankly. "How are you --"

"Warriors," Twilight started.

Between him and Wolfie, there was an odd shape. Warriors tried to touch it, and a hoof dug into the ground in front of him. Warriors tried again and this time two long, slender, distinctly non-Hylian legs moved in front of him.

"Easy, Wars," Twilight said, but Warriors was already scrambling to his feet. Or, at least, he was trying to scrambled to his feet. Nothing responded quite right, and it felt odd and disjointed. When he got his legs under him, he rocked like he was stepping on a boat. Wolfie leaped back, and Warriors heard that pained whinny again.

That noise was coming from him. That noise was coming from him.

Warriors reared and kicked his front legs in front of him. Like this, he could see them clearly. He could see the scars marring his left foreleg and how big his shadow was under him.

"I'm a horse!" Warriors shrieked. Wolfie flinched and his ears went flat.

"Ah," Twilight said, and Warriors immediately wanted him to shut up. "Actually... you're a unicorn."

Warriors's mind went blank. If Twilight said anything else, he couldn't hear it over the thunder of his own heart. It wasn't a conscious decision. When his front hooves hit the ground again, he bolted. Twilight howled but Warriors didn't stop. Warriors ran and ran, fast as the wind, faster than anything he could recall.

His hooves hit the familiar green grass of Hyrule Field, and Warriors sprinted like his life depended on it. Warriors had never run from anything before, but right then? He thought he would never be happier if he could just keep running forever.

Behind him, a wolf howled, and Warriors ran on.

#lu warriors #tl scribbles #lu twilight #uniwars

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fics-by-noworriesifnot · 1 month ago

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Chapter Eight: PART ONE: Requiem for the Half-Brained Do-Gooders Please mind the tags with this chapter. Ao3 link

“Are you sure?” Hermione said, looking up at Draco from the pensieve. Her grip was tight on the test tube containing her memory of the night Draco died.

Draco smirked. “Trying to back out already?” He said, arching a brow.

She turned back to the basin and gently poured her memory into the silvery liquid. As the contents began to swirl she caught sight of Crookshanks peering over her shoulder and before she could do anything, they were all pulled from the cool dark dungeons into a swirling cacophony of noise and light. “Oh! Crookshanks!” Hermione gasped as she, Draco and the cat swirled through disjointed fragments of Hermione’s memories. “Blasted menace.” Draco sighed.

When their feet connected with gravel, Hermione managed to catch Crookshanks in her arms with a soft ‘oof,’ and held him tightly to her chest. She breathed in his sun warmed hay smell as their surrounds slowly came into focus to reveal they’d landed on the grounds of Hogwarts, at the night of the battle. They squinted through the bright haze of the memory to see that the castle was crumbling, and crawling with acromantulas. Small fires crackled away while unidentified bodies lay motionless across the courtyard. Hermione exhaled sharply as they turned to see Harry being confronted by Lord Voldemort.

“Oh, Harry.” She breathed, her heart clenched at the sight of her scrawny friend facing the dark wizard, wandless but determined. She looked across at Draco who was watching, confusion playing on his face. “We were all so shocked to see Harry hadn’t died in the forest,” she explained, “no one noticed he was unarmed… except you.”

Dracos eyes narrowed as he watched the memory of himself pull away from the group of Death Eaters on Voldemort's periphery. “Potter!” His double shouted, tossing his wand to a perplexed Harry. “Voldemort turned his wand on you.” Hermione said softly, watching as the dark lord spun in place to point his wand at Draco. “TRAITOR!” He said, his pointed teeth exposed from his snarl. “Your family has failed me for the last time.” “And then…” Hermione said, her voice drowned out from Voldemort’s bellow. “AVADA KEDAVRA!” There was a flurry of movement, footsteps pounded across the courtyard. Green light erupted from Voldemort’s wand. “Your father jumped in front of the curse.” Hermione said, unable to look Draco in the eye as they watched Lucius Malfoy throw himself in front of the killing curse, shoving Draco aside. Lucius’ long hair and robes billowed out behind him, his face pulled into a defiant scowl as the green light barreled through his chest. “Father!” Draco cried, falling to his knees over Lucius’ crumpled form. “H-He didn’t suffer.” Hermione swallowed thickly and looked askance at the spectre of Draco Malfoy as he realised his father had died to protect him. His mouth was hanging open slightly, as he watched on in horror. Though he’d never had colour in his ghostly features, she could have sworn he’d grown paler.

“That’s when the final battle began.” Hermione said as green and red lights lit up the grounds. They watched as Harry and Voldemort’s spells collided. Neville sliced clean through Voldemort’s snake with the sword of Gryffindor. Hermione’s heart raced as she watched the memory of her and Ron being chased by an enormous spider. Draco was slumped over his father. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks as he clutched Lucius’ robes. He looked so small.

“Everything descended into chaos. Neville killed Nagini, Ron and I were cornered by an acromantula. And your Aunt… she was furious” Hermione said, as they watched Bellatrix Lestrange approach Draco’s hunched form, her body contorted with rage. “You idiot boy. Look what you’ve done.” Bellatrix spat, her movements were sporadic and rigid, like a wooden puppet. Nearby Hermione shrieked as she struggled against the acromantula, that held her down while it grappled with Ron. They watched as Hermione desperately reached for her wand that had fallen a few feet away, her fingers outstretched. “The spider had me pinned. I could only watch.” Hermione said breathlessly to Draco. Bellatrix's shrill voice pulled their attention back to the scene that was unfolding across the courtyard. “I raised you like you were my own son after your mother died, while your foolish father wasted his life away- and this is how you repay me?!” Bellatrix’s hand rested on her heaving chest as she looked down at Draco with disdain.

“It was bad enough that you interfered to save that pretty little Mudblood.” Bellatrix snarled, her fist clenched around her wand, then she paused, her head bent at an odd angle while her voice lilted dangerously. “But this… well, this is unforgivable.” “Ginny!” Hermione yelled as her friend approached to help her from where she was trapped under the spider. “Behind you, Malfoy’s in trouble!” “Oh, and you’re not?” Ginny snorted as the spider wrapped Ron up in its web. Bellatrix loomed further over Draco. “You have betrayed the dark lord and sullied the Black name.” She raised her wand which emitted angry sparks as she took a predatory step forward.

“Ginny freed us.” Hermione said as they watched Ginny blast the spider with a powerful Bombarda, then she and Ginny bolted in the direction where Bellatrix stood over Draco. “You are no blood of mine.” Bellatrix's voice was cold as Draco raised an arm to shield his face. “We tried to stop her.” Hermione’s voice came out as a whisper as she and Ginny scrambled across the grounds, firing spells at the witch. “But we were too late.” Her voice broke as their surroundings were bathed in green light.

#dramione #draco malfoy #dramione fanart #hp fanart #hermione x draco #hermione granger #fanart #hermione granger and the petulant poltergeist #dramione ghost story #ghost draco

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interlunium-opus · 1 year ago

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►DANCING WITH THE DEVIL #003 [Sunghoon.]

Previous Parts ‣ #001 | ‣ #002

Abstract: Juxtaposing the way your town was beginning to get a new lease on life after the authorities finally found the culprit behind your town's recent serial killings, your life was fraying at the edges instead as you still had to continue battling your inner demons on the daily – from nightly terrors to random flashes of visions – the latter of which, for mysterious reasons, seemed to only happen when you are face-to-face with Park Sunghoon, the bane of your existence. The more distraught you were over it all, the more convinced you were to get to the bottom of it, even if it means wreaking hell with the bane of your existence and waltzing with him in a game of his own making. You knew you were treading dangerous waters in doing so but you figured, if your days are numbered, then you'd rather go down fighting, dragging him down with you. But with the line between hate and love being thin, someone is bound to slip up soon, thereby threatening to ensnare the both of you deeper into the tangled web that Sunghoon had spun for you in the first place. ⌈ Do check out the previous parts here ‣ #001 | ‣ #002 ⌋

Warnings: blood; violence; injuries (some are self-inflicted); suggestiveness (some are forced); mentions of crimes (missing persons, murder, serial killings); manipulation; toxicity; trauma.

— i

“That’s a pretty heavy topic for a light read,” Jungwon who was trailing behind you, remarked, eyes fixated on the book you were holding, “that book is about Trauma right? I know you like reading but it’s deadline season so I doubt you’re picking this up for leisure reading. I don’t think it relates to any of your modules either. Is everything alright y/n?”

No, you thought to yourself, nothing is. Juxtaposing the way your town was beginning to get a new lease on life after the authorities finally found the culprit behind the serial killings, your life was fraying at the edges as you continue to battle your inner demons on the daily – from nightly terrors to random flashes of visions – the latter of which, for mysterious reasons, seemed to only happen when you are face-to-face with Park Sunghoon, the bane of your existence.

The more you ruminated about how your life has seemingly turned awry, the more perplexing it all becomes. In fact, if your life was a jigsaw puzzle, it would be the kind where none of the remaining puzzle pieces that have been left fit the gaps, which gives you either a distorted picture if you force it, or an incomplete picture, if you leave it be – none of which is ideal. Not when the gaps were having such a debilitating effect on your life from the dizzy spells, anaemia, visions, to nightly terrors.

Perplexingly, the more you pondered about each gap, the more it can be traced to Park Sunghoon. The most jarring of all in particular was the gaps in your memories of that evening when you last worked with Sunghoon – after which, everything seemed to take a weird turn, though not immediately. It was only in hindsight that you were able to see how the disjointed oddities seem to be cascading: the memory gaps; your sudden deteriorating health; Sunghoon’s sudden shift in behaviour; your nightly terrors; and your distorted visions. Taken together, you couldn’t help but quell the sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach that perhaps the ill-fitting puzzle pieces in your life weren’t natural at all – that they were purposefully tampered upon. That everything has been orchestrated. That you have been toyed around like a rat in a maze.

It even sometimes occurred to you that perhaps the said maze had been his in the first place – though you can never for the life of you figure out how and why would he go through such lengths.

Hence why you’ve been battling tooth and arms for the popular book in your hand. A book on trauma that perhaps could shed light as to why your mind has been going haywire; why your memories did not seem like they were yours; and why you feel so inexplicably haunted – as if you’re forgetting something, as if a danger is looming, as if Park Sunghoon is someone you should be wary of for more ominous reasons instead of just for his prowess at catching and breaking hearts.

“You know you can trust me right?” Jungwon murmured softly, bringing you back to reality. You felt him coming up behind you, his chest pressing against your back as he reached over towards the self-checkout machine, offering to help you instead since you had begun to space out. You edged away slightly, giving him some space – still not used to how excessively attentive and tactile Yang Jungwon has been as of late.

Now, Jungwon has indeed always been a chivalrous lad but his actions, gazes and touches back then were never excessive – it was always strictly and unmistakably cordial that there would be no room to overthink nor misunderstand the meaning of it. As of late however you couldn’t help but notice how every touch and gaze linger a tad bit too long that you couldn’t help but feel increasingly apprehensive of something bubbling underneath. It’s all in your head, you would try to convince yourself sometimes, feeling guilty of being so suspicious of someone that has offered nothing but constant help and comfort to you as of late.

“I know,” you softly muttered back, “I can’t trust myself though.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he smiled reassuringly, his voice ever so gentle and soft, “because I do.”

You smiled back almost automatically, eventually relenting especially under the weight of his compelling gaze. “Well, it’s nothing serious really. Just a recurring nightmare that’s debilitating,” you mumbled, carefully weighing each word so as not to overshare, “I would have just ignored it but I feel like its recurrence is starting to distort my perception. It didn’t help that the place, the man, the feeling, all felt familiar – as if it had been a memory that is replayed rather than just a dream conjured. Anyway, I uh, just wanted to check if they could mean something psychologically because I’ve read before that traumas can manifests itself in the form of nightmares too.”

“Like in PTSD sufferers?” he sympathized, “It's possible. You did after all underwent a near death experience in campus.”

“Yeah…” you murmured, slightly surprised to hear him reference the case you experienced in campus which you were sure only Heeseung knew of. But then again, you reassured yourself, Jungwon worked part-time as a guard so it’s possible that it’s something made known to them for safety measures. You then noticed his attention shifting away from your eyes towards you neck, brows knitting in recognition of something, “that mark, how did you-” his hand begin to reach up, ghosting over your neck when you guys were sorely interrupted by a booming, jovial voice.

“Good evening lovebirds, hope we��re not intruding.”

You two immediately snapped your head towards the direction of the voice, startled, as if you two had been walked into while doing something incriminating. It was Jake Sim, the Student Union’s Head of Sports, tugging on his sleeve to show you guys the Burgundy-coloured arm band he was wearing which signify that he was on patrol duty. Trailing behind him was, of course, Park Sunghoon.

“It’s 15 minutes until the start of the curfew,” Jake announced as he approached you both before turning his attention squarely towards you, “just want to make sure this lady right here won’t overstay.”

“I guess I must have a bounty over my head with the way you and your little gang are always up in my business,” you muttered flatly as you shot Sunghoon a brief accusatory glance, “I was just leaving.”

“Pretty sure your friend here," Jungwon suddenly spoke up, eyes flitting to Sunghoon, then back to Jake, "-isn't part of the Student Union. Surely you're not reprimanding someone but turning a blind eye to your own best friend ? that would be low of you Jake Sim."

You pressed your lips together to quell the amusement and satisfaction that was quickly blooming over your face. As expected from the poster boy of chivalry and valour in campus, you thought to yourself as you give Jungwon a brief look of admiration.

“Oh don’t worry, I was just leaving as well,” Sunghoon calmly replied though the brief tightening of his jaw seem to indicate that the comment didn’t miss the mark. Suddenly he turned to you, “since they both have to make the last sweep before curfew, it’s just us then. Shall we head out together?”

“I can head out alone just fine,” you replied him curtly and bid Jungwon a quick goodbye, before turning on your heel and exiting the main hall, taking the back corridor towards the back exit instead in hopes that you wouldn’t have to deal with Sunghoon anymore.

Except as you descended down the stairs, you could hear footsteps following you. You rolled your eyes and picked up your pace, knowing exactly who it was.

“Aren’t you walking too fast right now? Scared of the curfew or scared of me?” Sunghoon asked, the amusement in his voice audible. You ignored him, pushing past a series of glass doors that separated the corridors, hoping that one of them would have slammed him right in the face.

“You seem pretty chummy with that cat-eye lad,” he started again, “Do you have a thing for men who resemble animals or something? first your fox-looking guard dog then this cat-looking –“

“Park Sunghoon, get lost,” you hissed as you turned around abruptly, having had enough of him pestering you. To your surprise, despite the sound of his footsteps, he was actually just a few steps away from you which caught you off guard as he almost crashed onto you the moment you turned around. Not that it bothered him though for he just grinned slyly, satisfied to have incited a reaction from you.

“Aren’t you being too cold to me?” he raised his brows, waving a blue book in his hand – the book you had just loaned out and should have been safely tucked in your zipped backpack, “you actually dropped this and I was just trying to give it back to you.”

You furrowed your brows in a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment as you make a grab for the book, only for him to retract his hand back, “Oh? I thought you wanted me to get lost?”

“Give it back,” you demanded.

“Say it nicely,” he taunted, biting his lips to suppress the grin that was blooming across his lips.

You scoffed thinking how you should have known better. “Over my dead body,” you spat as you backed away, your patience thinning, “you know what? you can have it. I’d rather pay the penalty fee.”

With that you turned back and marched towards the exit door hoping that that would have offended him enough to leave you alone. Except this was Park Sunghoon we are talking about and if there is anything you can predict about him is that he will always act the opposite of what you expect and anticipate – like a true contrarian.

As you swung the door open, Sunghoon had caught up to you, and in just swift motions, he reached over and slammed the door back close – drawing parallels to the scene at the beginning of your nightmare when the door was shut close too as soon as you swung it open. Like a memory trigger, memories of your nightmare flooded in – filling you with a sense of confusion. You turned around, about to tell him off, only to be unnerved by how close he was, dwarfing over you in such a menacing way – again drawing parallels to your nightmare when you were backed up by a faceless man.

“For someone who is always running into dangerous situations, you sure still run your mouth freely y/n,” he chided threateningly in a low voice. Shivers went down your spine as your back pressed onto the cold glass behind you though you weren’t sure if it was the contact that made you shudder or was it the way Sunghoon loomed ominously before you with the dimmed lighting accentuating the steeliness of his expressions and the gravity of his commanding gaze.

You start to feel a lump in your throat, feeling your mind raking for memories that you weren’t even sure were there as if it was trying to warn you that something similar had unfolded beyond the realms of dreams before – of which didn’t end well. Still, always too brave for your own good, you refused to show any signs of fear as your stared back up into his increasingly paralyzing stare, almost as if challenging him.

In the midst of all the confusion, a dangerous and risky thought brewed in your mind. If Sunghoon really have anything to do with your hallucinations and even nightmares, you figured that you should be able to trigger it as per the previous cases when somehow being close to him seemed to have set it off. Thus, as if you two hadn’t been unnecessarily close in proximity already, you did the unthinkable as your hands reached up towards him, grabbing his collar and pulling him down towards you, catching the ever-so-inscrutable Park Sunghoon totally off-guard. His brows knitted in a mixture of confusion and alarm, his Adam’s apple bobbing – looking uncharacteristically unnerved, “what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, seething, as he gripped your wrist, his nails digging onto your skin painfully that you were sure it’d leave a mark.

A familiar sense of forebode soon rose from every small detail you see and every little sensation you felt: from the way he looked down murderously at you, to the way gripped your wrist, to the way the fabric of his shirt felt under your clutch. It was all starting to evoke that sickening feeling of déjà vu that is almost too heavy and ominous that it was paralyzing. Your visions begun to distort, transitioning rapidly between the Sunghoon that was right there with you in library, to Sunghoon standing in a dark, moon-lit room. From a glowering Sunghoon who looked like he was going to murder you to a Sunghoon who looked rather sultrily at you.

You gulped, mustering every strength and rationality in you not to crumble under it all. It’s just in your mind y/n, you tell yourself repeatedly as the visions rapidly transitioned, showing similar sequences as the ones you’ve had before. Except this time, as the Sunghoon from your visions lowered his face towards you, about to close the gap, you felt him dip lower, latching instead to your neck instead of your lips – mirroring your nightmares with the faceless man sinking his fangs onto your neck. When the man pulled back, you faced the exact same faceless man as the one in your dreams – the shadows concealing the rest of his face save for the sharp jawline, pale skin, plump lips, fangs, and blood-stained shirt.

Had this been your typical nightmare, this would have usually been the part where it all ended. But somehow this time, it went on, his face craning in such a way that the moonlight, which streamed through a nearby window, gradually illuminated the rest of his face: his nose, his eyes, hair. Your trepidation quickly combusted into that of horror as you realized now why the man’s features had always evoked such a strange feeling of familiarity.

It was Park Sunghoon’s.

“You…” you croaked, mind fraught in turmoil when the scene before you melted away, reverting back to Sunghoon at present in the library, who had just aggressively yanked your hands off of him. You noticed the subtle brief eyebrow twitch and clenching of jaw as he teetered back – almost as if he registered or realized something.

“Don’t play with fire y/n,” he glowered and suddenly the lights around the library started to flicker wildly and in the fraction of second when his face directly caught the light, you noticed how his dark brown eyes had unexplainably turned into a shade of amber though you couldn’t double take as the light completely went out after, his voice echoing in the dark, “—you’ll get burnt”.

When the lights switched back on after a few seconds, Sunghoon was gone – as if he had disapparated.

Suddenly whatever courage and strength you had from earlier dissipated and you crumbled onto the cold marble floor – legs weak, hearts wildly palpitating and mind completely stretched thin. Memories from that night when Sunghoon sank his teeth onto your neck started to flood back to you like burst dam, filling you with overwhelming emotions that you found yourself heaving and paralysed.

Twice in your life, you downplayed all the signs that had been there: from Sunghoon’s omnipresence around your life; the way events around your life seemingly gravitate towards him; the way his words always felt double-laced — it now all made sense. They were no coincidence — they were all him, everything was a web purely spun by him. The way he manipulated everything to his favour, from removing obstacles to tipping events, and then subsequently weaponised your own mind and memories against you to the point of insanity.

You remembered feeling very foolish back then in your last waking moments but now you just felt completely stupid for being strung around by Park Sunghoon again to the point of insanity.

What happened next was a total blur as you became so overwhelmed and numb from the rush of memories and realization: from having to process that vampires are not a stuff of fables; to Sunghoon being one; and to you being the one preyed upon. When you arrived home, you didn’t even bother to switch on the lights nor shower – just collapsing dejectedly and weakly onto your couch. Your train of thoughts soon melded into a disjointed mess as your body eased, lulling you into a sleeping state. It all then warped into something familiar — a large living living room, a figure following you from behind, door slamming shut just when you open it, you getting pinned against it — it was the same thing.

Except this time, everything was as clear as day – without any glitches and without any concealment – Park Sunghoon looming before you eyeing you as if you were meat. Everything then flooded back to you: you packing up to go home, him blocking you and forcing a kiss on you to the point your lips bled, then him stopping you from escaping, taunting you before sinking his fangs onto you. As you drift in and out of consciousness, you could see him sporting a triumphant grin, lips and collar morbidly smeared with blood – your blood – as he caressed your cheeks, rubbing the tears away as if he hadn’t been the one to have caused it in the first place.

“not so feisty now huh? y/n?” was the last thing you heard before it all went black.

Your eyes then fluttered open. You can feel your cheeks wet, apparently shedding a tear in your sleep just like in your nightmare. Unlike previous nights when you jolt awake in horror, sometimes even screaming, this time, you were calm – awash with a sense of clarity.

It has never been any random man. It has never been any normal nightmare.

It was Park Sunghoon all along.

And they weren’t nightmares, they were repressed memories.

You feel your fists clench in vehemence. You knew that your days now were probably numbered for there was no way he would let you off now that your memories have returned. Far from being scared however, you felt bolder, empowered by the desire to not let him have the upper hand. If I’m going down, you thought to yourself as your hand reached for the spot on your neck where the puncture mark had been, you’re going down with me Sunghoon.

— ii

“How many more bagged bloods is it going to take for you to realise that that is not hunger?” Jake jabbed, clicking his tongue dismissively at the way Sunghoon aggressively bite onto yet another bagged blood, finishing it in just seconds as if he hadn’t drunk for weeks. Jake shuddered when Sunghoon turned around, glowering, his eyes a luminous golden as he crumpled the empty bag, throwing it angrily across the room. Sunghoon has always been the calm one so to see him this agitated was alarming.

Sunghoon knew a drop of your blood could drive him off the rails but what he didn’t know was how you, in your entirety, could have the same effect. He felt dizzy again as he was reminded of when you had daringly, and foolishly he might add, pulled him earlier – the way your dark eyes, like whirlpool, was threatening to pull him deeper; the way your lips, parted and flushed, threatened to drew him close; the way you looked so small under him, making him go almost feral at the thought of completely engulfing you. Fuck, he cussed again internally as he slumped onto the bed, face buried in his hands, feeling the burn rising.

“It’s that toxic mix of obsession and lust that you hate the most,” Jake suggested, “swallow your pride tonight and prey on someone else both for fresh blood and for your other carnal desires – that’s how you’ll get through the burn. Nothing beats the satiation from a living person.”

In any other times, he would have already lunged at Jake but right now he was too overwhelmed to even glare at him. Begrudgingly he agreed to be dragged to another party tonight – much to the delight of Jay and Jake. Technically if what he felt was lust, he can just find other women from the hottest to the most skillful, to satiate that. If what he felt was hunger for fresh blood from a living human – that, too, he can find from another human. Whatever it takes, the world is essentially his oyster and tonight, he wasn’t going to restrain himself.

Thus unlike his usual untouchable and prickly self, Sunghoon was a different man tonight for when they arrived at a frat party in another university, his hands quickly found the hottest woman who was more than eager to get it on with him.

You’re nothing to me y/n, he thought to himself they sloppily made out in one of the empty bedrooms, his hands roaming frantically as his desire rise and fall with every touch and kisses, convincing him that it had indeed been just any normal lust. Except as the night deepened and things escalated further than he usually would allow, you still burned in the back of his mind. Burning ever brighter as if he had just tried to put down fire with fuel with him being the one at stake, completely engulfed in flames.

Now vampires don’t really get sick but with the way the burn within him was almost incapacitating, he might as well be breaking into a fever. A fever that is leaving him infuriatingly confused as to whether he wants to eliminate you or own you.

— iii

Your nightmares stopped since that evening. On one hand, you were grateful, finally having adequate and uninterrupted amount of sleep each night – something that has become a rarity to you that it was almost a luxury. On the other hand, you were slightly bummed. There were still some things you wanted to confirm, of which you could potentially do by revisiting your nightmares and yet now that you were seeking for it, it had completely vanished, leaving you with nothing but just dubious patchwork of memories of which was getting increasingly fragile and fleeting as days passed.

“It’s all red herring I tell you,” you hear Sunoo grumble from the other side of your door, occasionally knocking to ask you if you were ready, before continuing on with his ramblings and complaints, “there is no way a 23-year old drug addict did all that. I’ve been dabbling in Press work long enough to see a red herring when I see one. I bet you whoever is behind all these is powerful and influential to easily tamper with evidence and throw someone else under the bus like that.”

“I think so too,” you concurred though you stayed silent about your reasons. While you had been itching to tell Sunoo everything you knew and what had transpired between you and Sunghoon, you had no evidence whatsoever. Not yet, at least. Objectively too, though you now know that Sunghoon is no ordinary human, perhaps not one at all, you don’t have evidence that he is behind all the serial killings either. Sure the shoe fits but for all you know, there might have been many like him around town, operating solitarily or even colluding with one another to prey on humankind while covering each other’s back. In fact, the whole town might have just been rats in a maze for them.

There is also another reason as to why you have been keeping your mouth tightly sealed in this regard: to protect Sunoo himself. After what Heeseung and Sunghoon did to him, you were sure Sunoo harboured so much ill-feelings towards them that no amount of reason could ever talk some sense into him had he gotten a whiff of these information. In fact, you were certain that he would immediately run with it, printing the stories out without any care for the lack of evidence, let alone the grave implications of doing so. Hence, you’ve kept yourself silent about it, preferring to gather information and piece it all out alone for now.

“You can come in now, I’m done putting on my dress,” you said as you applied a burgundy shade of lipstick over your coral lips, dabbing on it to spread it evenly across. Noticing the way Sunoo seemed stupefied at the sight of you with jaws agape, you started to feel self-conscious, trying to pull the tulle sleeves of your off-the-shoulder sequinned black gown upwards, “Is it too much? too revealing? should I change to-“

“Oh quit it. More like too stunning,” Sunoo gushed overdramatically as he encircled you, “I can’t believe how adamant you were to miss the ball tonight. Look at you, you look absolutely jaw-dropping right now, as if you’re made for the ball.”

“You’re just saying that because I have begrudgingly agreed to come with you to the Winter Ball,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m all set now, let’s go – won’t want to be fashionably late, I’m not made for that kind of attention.”

“Even if you’re not fashionably late, you would end up commanding a lot of attention tonight anyway,” he winked as he helped you with your coat, placing it loosely over your exposed shoulders.

Ever since the culprit has been caught, life has finally returned to campus with the return of the long-awaited annual Winter Ball sealing the deal – serving like a celebration that the worse was finally over. As if the weather was also on the side of the event, it had begun to lightly snow that evening as well, covering the merrily-decorated compound of campus in the colour of purity as if symbolising a 'rebirth', making the whole scene before you seem so magical and otherworldy especially as everyone were dressed so formally with their tailored suits and classy gowns.

While you have never been interested in the Ball, you succumbed to the continuous pressures from Sunoo who never tire in pestering, whining and bribing you to attend it with him. You were actually adamant on standing your ground but after weeks of seeing him being all dejected and moody from having his investigation resources confiscated by Heeseung, you thought this would cheer him up. Thankfully, it really did – bringing the megawatt smile back to his face while adding extra spring to his steps.

When you two finally reached the Grand Hall with 45 minutes to spare before the start of the event, it was already brimming with life as students and staffs, all decked in their finest, mingled about – filling the air with a cacophony of sounds from chatters, laughters, whispers, and clinking of glasses – all of which floated above the soft classical music that is being played by a live Orchestra. Usually grim and sombre owing to its Gothic Architecture and monochromatic grandeur, the Grand Hall too was transformed into a majestic wonder tonight, looking like the epitome of opulence, magnificence and exclusivity, with all the ostentatious chandeliers; taper candles; hydrangea centrepieces; twinkling lights; and garlands.

Sunoo excitedly tug onto your hand, his eyes twinkling in delight, almost mirroring the fairy lights that adorned the columns and trees. You were never the type to enjoy social events like Balls nor were you ever a fan of being in a crowd, but after months of trepidation and despondency, the bustling crowd and noise was oddly comforting – like a sure sign that the worse is definitely over. In fact, as you two settled in, meeting and catching up with old friends and other coursemates, you were really beginning to take Sunoo’s words for it – that you’d have the time of your life tonight.

At least that was what you thought until about an hour and a half later when the crowd quietened down into gasps and whispers. From the reaction you'd have thought the Dean had walked into the Hall but it was none other than Sunghoon and his clique, having just arrived, decked in the finest suits from the most luxurious brands, effortlessly looking like the embodiment of wealth, class and charisma. Sunghoon himself was dressed regally in a black sleek and custom-tailored YSL suit with a distinct intricately-designed ruby-centred coat of arms pinned on his lapel. Sunghoon had always looked cold and intimidating but his partially slicked-back hair tonight, which fully exposed his thick brows, prominent brow bone and piercing gaze, was amplifying it all – lending a rather ethereal, otherworldly and untouchable quality to him.

“Such attention hogs,” Sunoo muttered disdainfully, “I was so sure they would decline the invitation again this year and yet here they are—”

“Is it too late to go back now?” you grumbled, grimacing at the way everyone clamour and gushed over them like sunflowers towards the sun – totally oblivious to the fact that there is a monster lurking amongst them. All of a sudden, as if he knew you were there and you had been staring, his eyes directly met yours in a chilling precision amidst all the distance and the crowd that stood between you two. You held his gaze, eventually scowling when he refused to look away and proceeding to give you the once-over with a smirk blooming across his lips.

“Ugh,” Sunoo groaned, turning you around, and shielding you away from Sunghoon’s prying eyes, “he’s so shameless – it’s almost as if he wants you right there and then.”

Yeah, want me dead, you thought to yourself.

Fortunately, as they always had a crowd clamouring over them, they were always so preoccupied and were always away from your line of sight so you were able to go about your evening unbothered, completely in your own world, joking and dancing with Sunoo as well as with some of your other coursemates – completely forgetting that Sunghoon was even around. Until that is, the lighting started to the dim, the Orchestral music started to gradually grow louder and the floor started to clear – signalling the start of the long-awaited Waltzing session. You watched in awe as some people begin to join others at the centre of the hall, each rhythmically and formulaically Waltzing to the classical music with their partners with so much ease and grace as if it’s something that anyone normally does in their pastime.

Just then you felt Sunoo tugging your hand with a sheepish grin that you knew only meant trouble. You mouthed a few protests, trying to retreat away but as you begin to feel the heat of people’s stares, you had no choice but to begrudgingly let yourself get dragged to the dance floor, not wanting to cause a fuss and attract more attention.

“You owe me big time Kim Sunoo,” you grumbled through gritted teeth as you watched other couples warily while Sunoo just confidently held your hand in his and wrapped a hand around your waist, guiding you carefully according to the melody of Tchaikovsky’s 'Serenade For Strings in C Major, Op.48 II', “come on, what’s a ball without proper dancing? You already look the part, might as well play the part. Trust me okay? now relax your shoulders and carefully, follow my steps, 1, 2, yes, now backwards, yes -”

That was how you ended up on the dance floor, waltzing through a series of classical music, and a series of different men because Sunoo cheekily did not tell you that partners change whenever the classical pieces change. As if that wasn’t awkward enough – you could feel someone’s burning stare on you throughout the dance: Park Sunghoon.

While his hands were always on the hottest women in campus and he was always so preoccupied, whether it is in conversations, chatters, or even whispers, his eyes never failed to meet yours in an uncanny precision whenever your eyes accidentally landed on him in the crowd. That is, if he hadn't already been staring at you in the first place like a vulture waiting for their prey to succumb to its death. At one point, you held his gaze, frowning to show your utter contempt – hoping that that would have given him the message and make him look away but with the way the corner of his lips tipped, that obviously had the opposite effect. In fact, at one time, his partner ended up turning around, proceeding to give you the stink eye as if you had been checking out Sunghoon in the first place. As if, you thought to yourself, grimacing.

“Evening beautiful.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, realising then that the piece had changed again and the man that was holding your hand had changed. “Jungwon!” you gasped, face melting into utter relief and glee. Your body relaxed almost immediately in his touch after all the stiffness you had to maintain from the bunch of strangers you had to shuffle through for the Waltz so far.

“Wouldn’t want to miss a dance with the most beautiful lady in the hall tonight,” he grinned cheekily as he wrapped his hand over your waist ever so gently, guiding you carefully and attentively through the slow melody. It was classic Yang Jungwon – comforting and dependable. Except tonight, contrasting his usual boy-next-door image, his slicked-back hair, which fully exposed his strong arched brows and sharp feline eyes, lent a much stronger charismatic and refined impression to his look and vibe which could lean towards unnerving, if not alluring, if he wasn’t smiling cheerily like he did right now.

“No shift tonight?” you asked.

“Unfortunately, I do in about 45 minutes since they are short-staffed due to the holiday season,” he pressed his lips into a thin line, “but doesn’t matter, now that I’ve danced with you, my evening is complete.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re the last person I’m dancing with as well,” you replied before almost stumbling as the music sped up, struggling to keep up. Always so gallant and dependable, he quickly held you steady, beaming reassuringly as he wheeled you away to a more spacious area, “I’ve got you, just follow these sequences- yep, there you go…”

“Sorry about that. I haven’t acclimatised myself to upbeat waltzing. Heck even waltzing in itself was some sort of an uphill struggle,” you smiled apologetically, eyes trained on your feet to make sure you won’t be stepping on him again before flitting back up into his eyes, “never even planned to come but Sunoo insisted.”

“Well, he deserves a medal for convincing you then and I am grateful that you did. You were the only one I was searching for in the crowd earlier.”

“You’re not already drunk are you? you are unusually flirty tonight,” you raised your brows quizzically before chuckling playfully, “this isn’t you – bring me back that innocent, anti-romantic, Jungwon.”

With a playful smirk he corrected, “first things first, old Jungwon is long gone. Secondly,” you feel his grip over your waist tighten and the grin slowly faltering as his gaze seemingly darkened, “I’m not that innocent.”

You chuckled lightly, thinking that he was just being playfully dismissive though you find your smile faltering as you notice the way his gaze shifted, the way his eyes flitted ever so briefly seemingly towards your lips and neck. “Is the mark on your neck gone?” he asked. It took you a while to process what he was referring to when you were reminded of that night in the library when he was going to ask something about it before getting interrupted by Jake. “Oh- that,” you mustered. For reasons unknown you somehow decided to lie, “yeah, it was just a small injury.”

He raised his brows, looking unconvinced, “it didn’t look like a normal injury to me? How did you get it?”

You have always known that Jungwon’s stare can be too intense sometimes especially since he had sharp feline eyes and strongly-arched brows but the way he stared down at you right now really unnerved you in a way that makes you feel cornered. “Not sure actually. Perhaps it was a bed bug from when I went to the rurals for volunteering last time,” you lied again, hoping that that could’ve been believable.

“Ah-“ his mouth hung, “those bloodsuckers.”

You could have swore he said the last word with extra, unnecessary, emphasis – as if he knew you were lying and he wanted you to know that. Thankfully, the piece was nearing its end so you didn't need to stare into those forceful and hypnotizing eyes any longer as you turned around, swaying in shadow position just like other dancers. His words and gaze however still lingered in your mind so distractingly that as you twirled you lost his hand for a brief moment though he recaptured it just in time as you spun back towards him. Except, the hands that had caught you was larger and you can see now, to your horror, it was not even Jungwon anymore. It was Sunghoon and the piece had already transitioned to a darker piece: the majestic ‘Swan Lake Op.20, Act II, No.10’ by Tchaikovsky.

“How did you—,“ you stuttered, caught completely off guard. You could have sworn Sunghoon was far away from you the last time you caught a glimpse of him – the distance of which would have been impossible for him to be your next dance partner.

“You’re not wrong,” he conceded, almost as if he could read your mind and was replying to your thoughts, “I had to break the social etiquette and leave my partner before the piece ended just so I can have the last dance with you before someone else snatches you away.”

You scoffed, really not having it. “well, I’m not one for rules either,” you snubbed, just about to pull away from him and break the etiquette by leaving the dance mid-way when you felt him interlacing his fingers with yours while his other hand that was just resting over your waist, slid higher, snaking across your back, seizing you in a vice-like grip, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You would just attract a lot of attention since half of those in the room are looking at us now. I know you hate attention.”

You looked around and true enough, almost everyone’s attention in the hall was on you both. You stared back up at Sunghoon, flummoxed, “you did this on purpose didn’t you? Wasn’t the previous piece supposed to have been the last dance?”

“Well, what I want, I get,” he asserted domineeringly, brows arched up smugly as he wheeled you away in an adept yet dizzying turn across the dance floor past other couples. Perplexingly, despite the pace and force at which he was leading you, you hadn’t stumbled even once – it was almost as if you had been put under a spell, a spell that enraptured you in a fixed pre-set rhythm with him.

“So you’re saying that dancing with me tonight is what you want?” you asked mockingly just to spite him.

“Wrong,” he tutted, “it’s you that I want.”

“Is that doublespeak for my blood?” you provoked. Seeing the way his brows made the slightest twitch and his gaze darkened made you feel almost triumphant. He lowered his face slightly, tilting it, and bringing his lips close to your ears, “don’t play with me darling,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ears, sending shivers down your spine, “I can conjure up your worst memories here right now. Maybe then you’ll learn not to run your mouth too liberally in public.”

You jerked your head away from him and stared back into his darkened gaze in defiance though the way your jaw tightened was enough to satisfy him for it was a sign that you were fraying no matter the tough front you put forward for him. “why haven’t you killed me yet?” you asked, point-blank.

“Well, killing you would mean letting you off easy,” he cooed, “you don’t deserve that.”

You chewed the inside of your lower lip, seething, wondering how much longer you could tolerate being so close to this vile man. Every second felt like decades and you have become increasingly hyperaware of the way he was holding you – with every part of your body that was touching his, searing. From his large hand that had snaked over your back; his fingers that were all interlaced with yours; and your body all locked with his — you were effectively being seized, like a prey. More infuriatingly is the way your heartbeat was picking up though you couldn’t tell if it was simply out fury for having to dance with the devil; apprehension over his next steps; or, as much as you hated, over how flustered he was making you feel.

Nevertheless, you weren’t one to admit defeat nor show any signs of vulnerability – especially not to him. So even if you felt like you were going to buckle under his intense gaze and cower away from his strong hold, you persistently powered through – feigning nonchalance as you stared back in those dark commanding eyes unflinchingly. You figured for someone so prideful, power-obsessed and controlling like him, who always have the upper hand and have people wrapped around his fingers, accusing him of having feelings for you and being obsessed with you would be the greatest insult which in turn would have triggered him to act rashly. Hence you decided to play along, taunting him mockingly with the aim of riling him to the point of slipping up, “Oh yeah? I do hope that that is indeed the case,” you muttered lowly, “— not because you’re catching feelings for me. That would have been such a low blow, falling for a mere mortal who feels nothing but vehemence towards you.”

Pressing his tongue against his cheek, he scoffed, lips curling agonisingly slow into a rather insidious grin. “Oh yeah?” he drawled, his hand sliding further, fingers curling over your side ribs with nails digging painfully into your skin like talons, “then why is your heart beating so fast? Are you scared of me?” he raised his brows smugly as he harshly pulled you closer up his body as if trying to assert his dominance and further grind your gears, “or are you attracted to me? Would be a low blow for you either way isn’t it?”

“Speak for yourself,” your hand had already travelled down his shoulder, resting on his chest, eyes boring into his, unyielding and challenging, “yours is matching mine. You should be careful Sunghoon, you might need more blood to keep that shrivelled heart pumping this fast.”

Just then the piece picked up, booming into the last chorus line as if trying to mirror the tension that was brewing and threatening to spill over between the two of you as you two obsess over one-upping the other, completely oblivious over the fact that sometimes, the line between hate and attraction are blurry. In fact, to many unassuming observers, it was very easy to mistake the both of you as being completely enamoured with one another especially with the proximity, hand placements, the locked gazes and the banters. But whose to say they were wrong when deep down the both of you couldn’t tell for certain either.

The music fortunately stopped just in time, preventing anything from escalating and as if utterly disgusted you immediately pried his hand off of your back, feeling his touch searing by the second. He wasn’t going to let you off easy though as he tugged onto your hand, causing you to slightly tip towards him, before bringing the hand close to his lips. You watched in horror as he pressed his lips onto the back of your hand planting a gentle kiss that caused shockwaves across the crowd. A devious smirk immediately tugged on that very lip, “you look beautiful tonight by the way. Ravishing. Would have told you that earlier if we weren’t constantly at each other’s throat.”

You yanked your hand back protectively, embarrassed and fuming. You hated how his every move are always so calculated with the intention delivering the biggest blow to you as if someone was keeping score. Sunoo emerged just in time from the crowd, hissing curses at Sunghoon as he wrapped a protective arm over you and took you away. “You okay?” he asked, lowering his face to meet yours. You plastered a smile, nodding, “I’m fine. He was just messing around.”

Just then, one of the staffs took over the podium, announcing that it was time for dinner, fortunately diverting everyone’s attention away from you towards the food and drinks that were being wheeled into the hall. “I should have kept a closer watch on you,” he said apologetically, “I didn’t know he was that determined to get to you. Kind of weird though. I mean after months of pretending you were nothing but a stranger?” Sunoo paused, eyeing you suspiciously, “you’re not… hiding anything from me are you?”

You shook your head, pretending to be unaffected and nonchalant, “None whatsoever. He’s just bitter that I beat him in the other essay. Classic Sunghoon.”

Thankfully, Sunoo didn’t press on further, readily buying into your lie. As he was busy eyeing the rich selections of food, you looked away, feeling your head spinning though you couldn’t tell if it was from the excessive socialising, dizzying waltzing, or maybe it was Sunghoon and the array of emotions he was capable of evoking from you all at the same time – fear, dread, anger, you name it. Eyes trained on the empty galleries decked out on the upper floors, you decided to slip away from Sunoo, who was busy socialising now, to find a momentary respite.

As you reached one of the galleries, which was decked in burgundy-gold colour palettes, you hunched over the wooden bannister, propping your elbow up and resting your chin in your palm, looking over blankly at the bustling crowd on the floors below. As if there was gravity pulling, your eyes ended up wandering towards Sunghoon, seated at the corner with his little clique, surrounded by other wealthy and popular kids as per usual.

You scowled as memories from earlier – from his taunts, flirtations, to his threatening remarks – flooded back in. If only people know what you are Sunghoon, you thought to yourself.

As you laboured over these thoughts, you soon found your mind treading dangerous waters, your other hand already slipping inside your purse, making a grab for something: an army swiss knife – something you had been carrying as of late for protection.

Your eyes flitted from the knife to Sunghoon, then back, thinking to yourself, theoretically, like sharks, the littlest drop of blood should be easily detected by him. You flipped the blade out as you gave Sunoo a quick text telling him to stay where he was and start filming the crowd if anything happens. A barrage of texts immediately came through from Sunoo but you ignored it as you slipped the phone back into your purse, eyes trained on Sunghoon as your resolve to cause havoc was strengthening by the second, if I’m lucky he would lose control right in front of everyone.

With no hesitation you slid the blade across a small section of your palm though in your haste, the cut went deeper than expected with blood quickly pooling and trailing down. You winced, feeling it sting as you looked back at Sunghoon who was still engrossed in a conversation with others. Then suddenly as if a switch had been turned in his head, he looked up straight at you in such a chilling precision as if he knew you were right there.

Startled and alarmed, you edged away from the railings, trying to escape his field of vision. The lights started to flicker then and you knew you got him. Heart hammering wildly against your chest with your fight and flight response kicking in, you quickly darted out of the gallery.

The lights had completely went out then, leaving the winding corridor illuminated ominously with a red glow from the emergency lights in the corner. You can hear the crowd below erupting in unrest. Just as you reached the staircase you saw a CCTV right in the corner and another risky thought brewed in your mind. You purposefully slowed down and as you anticipated, not a full second after, you feel someone’s heavy presence behind you though before you could turn around, you found yourself slammed to the nearest wall.

The corner of your lips lifted, forming a small triumphant grin at the sight of Sunghoon in front of you, “aren’t you too easy Park Sunghoon?” you mocked, gritting your teeth his hand grabbed your neck, threatening to choke you. It might look as if Sunghoon has all the upper hand right now but nothing could be far from the truth because if anyone knows anything about him, to be able to rile the calm, collected and calculative Sunghoon up to this point is a massive feat. After all, he was always the one who is a few steps ahead, the who orchestrates, the who puppeteers. But now, despite all his attempts, his efforts seemingly backfired with his eyes already lightening to Golden; fangs fully erupted; and breathing all labored, both out of anger and increasingly, hunger. “You must really have a death wish y/n,” he warned insidiously.

You would be lying if you said the sight of him glowering murderously at you with razor sharp teeth and glowing golden eyes did not terrify you but from the moment your memories had started to slowly return weeks ago, you knew your days were numbered and that realization struck something in you – turning you from the risk-averse and non-confrontational person you had always been, to someone who is more defiant and dauntless. After all, if you’re going to die – you might as well die fighting.

Hence why, instead of pleading for mercy, you were relentlessly trying to provoke him, “with an opportunity served on a golden platter like this,” you derided, smirking as you ran your bloody hand up his wrist that was on your neck, “you shouldn’t fumble again. It’s getting too embarrassing at this point. Aren't you supposed to be infallible?”

You could see the alarm in his face as he realised a second too late how you had effectively smeared your blood on his hand, which had by then seeped onto his cuffs. Just like how your blood slowly crept up his cuff, dying every fiber at the edge into a deep shade of red, he, too, was increasingly engulfed in a confusing mess of impulse and desires which was getting harder to fight. Juxtaposing his usual calculated movements and calm and controlled facial expressions, he was thrown into disarray now as he yanked your hand aggressively away, pinning it against the wall, only to have his senses and rationality struck harder, as your bloodied palm was now fully exposed, the blood of which was dripping down towards his own hand – the scent now becoming overbearing that he was seeing red.

“Or do you prefer to do it in alleys, leaving my bloodless, punctured, body to be the next cold case in town? Oh wait, it can’t be a cold case anymore since you’ve got someone else to throw all the blame to,” you goaded further, truly having no regard whatsoever for your own life, “poor guy. For all we know you might also be running a drug den – essentially a pool of black sheeps to tap onto should you need someone to throw under the bus.”

Almost snarling, you feel him tighten his grip over your wrist, his nails digging onto your skin, as he lunged towards you. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for what was to come. But instead of the prickle of pain on your neck that you expected to follow, you felt him crash his lips onto yours instead, aggressively devouring it like a man starved. Your eyes flew open, aghast, as you felt his hand crept up your back possessively, pulling your body flush against him with unyielding strength as if any space in between would have killed him. You yelped – the sounds of which he swallowed as he thrust his tongue inside your mouth and deepened the kiss so heatedly that you could almost taste the anger and bitterness in the way his lips ferociously and hungrily devour yours. You then felt your bottom lip getting tugged in between his teeth, the pain of which made you wince, before it sent you thrashing harder against him when you felt him nibble, lick and suck on it. Not that any of your efforts were fruitful for he was far stronger – completely unbothered and unyielding like a stone. In fact, the more you thrashed and protested, the more seemingly intoxicated and entranced he became as he completely pressed his body up against yours, effectively immobilising you against the wall.

Your mind was getting hazy from the lack of air and just when you thought you might pass out, he pulled back, staring down at you domineeringly with his penetrating and devilish golden eyes. “Who’s easy now?” he mocked in a show of dominance and power as his tongue sultrily licked his blood-smeared lips.

“You fucking psycho-“ you hissed breathlessly as you shoved him away with as much strength as you could muster.

“Next time you pull this kind of stunt-“ he warned, the colour of his eyes gradually darkening to his usual dark brown colour as the grin on his face faltered, “–actually, forget it. I’ll make sure that you won’t even have a next time.”

“Why don’t you put money where your mouth is,” you spat as your fists clench in fury, “or is your mouth too busy trying to chase mine?”

His brows shot up momentarily before he narrows his eyes menacingly at you. You were sure he was going to say or do something to you then when suddenly you hear Sunoo calling your name out repeatedly.

“y/n!”

You snapped your head towards the direction of the voice, seeing Sunoo appearing by the staircase, completely out of breath, hunched over the floor, as if he had just ran all the way up. When you turned back, Sunghoon was long gone with absolutely no signs of him nearby. You looked around haphazardly, checking each galleries, and looking over the bannisters, seeing absolutely no signs of him, as if he disapparated.

“y/n!”

Sunoo grabbed your hand, swivelling you harshly around to face him, “what is wrong with yo-“ he paused, gasping, eyes widening in alarm, “you’re bleeding!”

“oh right- it’s-“ you mumbled, snapping out of your thoughts, as you looked at your bloodied palm. Except instead of your hand, Sunoo dabbed his clean handkerchief againts the center of your lips instead. You edged your face away, surprised. When you reached and gently touched the stinging spot on your lips, true enough it was bleeding. You scoffed, reminded of Sunghoon’s bloody lips too, along with his mocking words “who’s easy now?” – realising only then what he had really meant as he had bitten your lips and sucked on it. That prick, you feel your shoulders dropping in defeat, your head splintering.

“Did you take a tumble or something?” Sunoo asked as he continued gently dabbing your bloody lips, “If I didn’t know any better I’d have thought you had been making out or something. Look at the state of your hair and your lips-“

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you grumbled defensively, snatching his handkerchief from him, trying your best to feign nonchalance as memories of Sunghoon liplocking you started replaying in your mind like a broken film, “I tumbled on the stairs earlier, it was too dark.”

“You’re acting weird, do you know that?,” Sunoo eyed you suspiciously, “Actually – you have been acting weird. What was that text earlier? Stay there? Camera on? What were you up to? But anyway thanks to your heads up, I caught something interesting.”

“Wait- you did?” you asked, hoping that perhaps Sunghoon could have been caught in his film. The way in which he suddenly appeared behind you was something no human could do – not in such speed, not when he was in the midst of a crowd and not in that dimmed lighting.

“Oh-“ you managed, evidently disappointed when you watched the clip in Sunoo’s phone. He filmed everywhere and everything except for the area where Sunghoon was initially at. The camera suddenly flipped to selfie mode, showing Sunoo looking confused as the lighting flickered, “Sunoo I didn’t tell you to film yourse-“

“Hey, exactly because I filmed this that I caught something odd,” he grumbled, fast-forwarding it to the time when Sunoo started swivelling around in the dark, “look at that man at the far corner near the statue,” you followed his finger, focusing on the guy who stood rooted there. It was grainy and blurry but you can see that his head snapped upwards as if he saw something alarming before suddenly he vanished just a few seconds the lighting went out.

“Wait, what-“ you grabbed Sunoo’s phone, rewinding it back and replaying it. There was no mistaking it, the guy definitely vanished into thin air. You first thought that it might have been Sunghoon but that would be impossible. After all before the lights shut off, he clearly was at the to other end of the hall, by the sofas – you saw that with your own eyes.

That was when the horrifying truth dawned on you, that your presumptions weren’t that far off — that there really was more than one like Sunghoon, not just in your town, but in your campus.

— iv

“It’s done,” Sunghoon muttered as he re-entered the dining hall of their loft. Jake turned to him, catching a glimpse of the man slumped near the sofa in the other room before the door completely closed behind Sunghoon, “he should remember nothing about tonight except just how wasted he was.”

“Good work Sunghoon,” Heeseung nodded as he massaged his temples and checked his phone for the umpteenth time for updates, “I’ve had the victims already sent to two different hospitals too. There should already be someone there ready for to do all the necessary cover-ups so the accident tonight shouldn’t cause too much ruckus with the elders.”

“Good thing I was making out just outside of the Grand Hall isn’t it? Otherwise someone else would have found the bodies,” Jay wiggled his brows, looking proud.

“Well for someone who was near the vicinity, it really is a wonder how far gone you were with the girl you were snogging with to have missed out a stray vampire feeding on two students nearby,” Jake scoffed, shaking his head dismissively as he nudged Sunghoon, beckoning him to agree with him. Sunghoon just gave him a cursory glance, looking every bit as disinterested and indifferent as ever as if he, too, wasn’t liplocking around the time it happened.

“What if this stray vampire is the one responsible for the chaos earlier?” Heeseung asked aloud, tapping the edge of his phone against the marble countertop, “did anyone have a good idea of what actually happened earlier? I was too busy buttering up the Board of Directors.”

Feigning ignorance, Sunghoon just casually shrug, despite knowing very well who had sparked the whole chaos earlier: you. Unlike what is popularly depicted in the media, vampires aren’t really like sharks but some do have a keen sense of smell when it comes to blood especially if it is the blood that they are very well familiar with. This is the case of you to Sunghoon who, having dawned it himself, could smell it when you had hurt yourself earlier. Though in hindsight he could now see how foolish and rash he had been to be easily baited like that. Not that he wanted to divulge all that to the rest though, especially not to Heeseung.

“Regardless of what happened in the Grand Hall, I think we have another one in our midst,” Sunghoon smoothly changed the subject, “I doubt it’s a pureblood though – we’d have sensed them otherwise and the way he or she just leaves the bitten body like that is too amateur and sloppy to be one of us.”

Heeseung nodded grimly, “that’s one heck of a skilled ‘unnatural’ then – to be able to evade us for so long.” ‘Unnatural’ is what they used to refer to human-turned-vampires. Not that the term is anymore less condescending than the non-Pure Bloods that some would refer them as.

“Leave that to me, I’ll try to find out more about it. Skilled or not, we are still much more superior and powerful than they are,” Sunghoon offered though his intentions in finding the culprit differed from the rest. Heeseung gave him a brief appreciative smile before retiring to the drawing room to answer a call.

“We’re done here right?” Sunghoon asked, turning to the other two, “let’s crash a party.”

Jay and Jake turned to each other in confusion but gladly complied nevertheless since they loved having fun and loved nothing more than roping the most reclusive one of them, Sunghoon, to get wild with them. The party that Jay took them to tonight wasn’t just any frat party either – it was some upscale party at the city – filled with the hottest and wealthiest people from the upper echelons of society including those of their own kind.

“Feeling the burn again?” Jake asked quietly as they entered the lofty mansion.

“Weirdly, no,” Sunghoon replied, surprised at his own answer. Jake’s words from weeks ago suddenly ringing hard in his ears, realizing now how it was you who had effectively quelled the burn that had plagued him tonight. Though he didn’t really know which one did it: the blood or the kiss since he did both tonight. Not that he wanted to ponder about it though. Tonight, he wanted a distraction.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for him to become preoccupied, getting roped into one of the empty bedrooms no sooner than 10 minutes being in the mansion. By the hottest woman in the party too, no less, who also happens to be of their kind. It was perfect – it should be. After all, she’s hot and someone of his own would understand and withstand his needs the most with no need of him to restrain himself like he would on mere mortals. He remembered finding her hot too as she seductively run up her red-lacquered nails up his chest, eagerly unbuttoning his shirt while her short red dress hiked up dangerously high as she straddled him. Her lips quickly molded with his and the whole thing quickly turned into a messy make-out session that quickly escalated. It was going so well.

Except not really.

Because instead of getting delirious and high in the throes of such heat, his mind was constantly straying away from the moment, finding its way back towards you. As if branded, you were etched in his mind and he hated that. He was supposed to be the one toying you and the one etched onto your mind to the point of insanity. Yet here he was, being the one who is gravely bothered and troubled in a game that he himself had spun.

He really thought he got it all under control but clearly, if anyone is losing control, it has been him. The signs had been there all along but classic Park Sunghoon just never wanted to deal with it and now look at the way it festered. He went from watching you as if you were an experiment to keeping such a close watch and tabs on you almost protectively and possessively, as if you were his in the first place.

Then there’s the jealousy that he felt whenever he sees you with either Sunoo or Jungwon. Initially he thought the feeling and desire to get rid of them was simply borne out of wanting to eliminate hurdles along the way and subsequently isolate you. That was indeed probably what it was initially, but slowly the desire becomes tainted with a more emotionally-driven interest – the desire to be them – the be the one receiving all the smiles, the gentle touches and spend an inordinate time with you. The next thing he knew, you have taken root in his mind, growing so entrenched as if you were the one spinning some sort of web in the first place, and not him. You end up haunting him not just in his waking moments, which was torturous enough considering how he doesn’t really sleep, but even in moments when he was in the midst of reaching his highs with other women.

Even now, as he flipped the lady over for another round, even as she was screaming his name loud – all he could see, hear and feel was you. The way you called his name, whether softly or bitterly; the plumpness of your lips; the warmth of your neck; the curvature of your waist; the way you fit perfectly in his embrace as if you were made for him. Fuck, he cussed to himself again. Deep down, he found himself desperately wishing that it was you he was touching, it was you who was holding onto him, it was you that was begging for him.

Buried within those lecherous thoughts however lay something more innocent. Something he doesn’t dare nor wish to ponder: how he wanted you to not detest him. How he wished that you had a fraction of positive feeling for him instead of just the vehemence that you always showed.

By the time he was done, he was already putting his clothes back on, foot already out the door. If problems can’t be solved, he thought to himself on his drive back home, pressing the pedal to dangerous speeds, I should eliminate it altogether.

Afterall, he reasoned further, I can’t yearn for something that isn’t there.

— v.

“The Head of Security bumped into me on the way and is now treating me to coffee so I’ll be a bit late but I’ve already authorised my credentials earlier so just go ahead and log into my PC with the log-in details I’ve shared,” Jungwon explained through the phone as you settled inside the staff room in the library, switching on the PC there while thanking him profusely for the umpteenth time, “thank you so much Jungwon. You know what, I owe you big time. I’ll treat you to a meal next time alright? Anything you want, just say it.”

It was just this morning when you asked him for a favour to view the CCTV in campus, hoping to get your hands on the evidence of whatever transpired last night before it gets wiped out. Always so benevolent and dependable, Jungwon agreed almost immediately without pestering you about the reasons even when getting himself authorised required him sneaking about and accessing the main system discreetly over at the main wing. While sometimes you do feel uncomfortable at just how far he is willing to go for you so selflessly, he has always had a reputation for being obliging and dependable so you always chalk your cynicism to irrational paranoia instead.

Being proficient in IT yourself, it didn’t take you long to figure out how to navigate the system once you’ve logged in, after which you began identifying the specific CCTV angles that could trace Sunghoon’s possible steps. “Got you,” you murmured to yourself, grinning triumphantly as you found him in CCTV #81, which was around the area where Sunghoon was lounging about just minutes before the whole chaos ensued. As you expected, at one point in time, unlike everyone else, Sunghoon’s head suddenly snapped upwards, right towards the area where you were and within seconds after the lights went out, he vanished.

You switched the angle to the other one – the CCTV near the staircase where you were at – which somehow ‘conveniently’ glitched just moments before he suddenly appeared behind you. You watched in anticipation as he roughly shoved you against the wall, expectations shot through the roof as you remembered purposefully riling him up right there and then because you wanted to incite the worse in him and get it filmed. It was risky but you thought, if it was the only way to get him to reveal more of the kind of monster he was, it would be worth it. Except, the more you watched, the more dismayed you were. With his back facing the CCTV, you were entirely engulfed by his figure – the angle of which was completely concealing the struggle that transpired between you two – making it look as if you two were heatedly making out in the dark instead.

You rewinded the clip again, trying to find an instance that could have implied otherwise. None, you thought to yourself, sinking in your seat in utter dejection as you realised none of it was usable – leaving you only with that clip of him vanishing but that could easily be taken as some sort of glitch as well.

Who’s easy now? You remembered him saying that again, realising now just how double-laced those words really were and calculated his actions were. The hall was indeed too public so he knew ravishing you right there and then could get him exposed. So he decided to do it under the guise of a kiss – the least suspicious yet the most vexing way to get back at you – essentially delivering a double-blow to you. Or triple rather, since he fumbled your plan with the CCTV as well, maybe he figured the angles out too. You scoffed, feeling defeated. At this rate, it did not feel like you were trying to beat him in his game but it felt more like you were waltzing with the devil to a tune that only he knows the beat of.

Just as your eyes scanned all the other CCTV angles cursorily, the angle near the back exit caught your attention. It had the same statue as the one Sunoo captured in his phone, near where a man was seen suddenly disappearing. You enlarged the clip, zeroing in on the guy which is probably the guy in question, who walked past the statue while trying to wear his coat, looking as if he was just about to exit through the double doors when suddenly he turned around, head snapping upwards towards the direction of where you should be, just a few seconds before the lights flickered and went off. Then to your horror, he too, like Sunghoon, vanished.

You gasped as you zoomed in the clip to identify who he was though the graininess and blurriness of the clip due to the distance and the night vision was making it almost impossible. It didn’t help that you could only see his face for some 5 seconds before he disappeared. Amidst the graininess however, his eyes had that eerie tapetum lucidum glow which is common among nocturnal predators – the same glow you remembered seeing in the maniac who had attacked you in the alleyway as well as in campus. In fact his eyes glowed so much that it was almost similar the reflective stripes he had on the shoulder of his jackets, which you swore you’ve seen somewhere.

“Sorry, I took too long. Did you managed to find the clip you were looking for?”

You jumped, startled, turning around to see Jungwon beaming softly at you as he took his cap off and unzipped his jacket.

“No worries. I was just trying to figure out how to make the resolution better-“ your voice trailed off as you watched Jungwon turned around to take his waterproof Security jacket off and hang it on a nearby coathanger. The stripes, you stared in apprehension as you recognised it to be the same with the man in the camera – two stripes on each shoulders, both reflective.

“Hey, Jungwon? Did you bring that jacket with you yesterday to the Ball?” you asked carefully as you rose up, alert. He hummed in affirmation, “yeah, I changed in campus so the jacket was all I had to protect me from the sudden snow – why?”

“Nothing,” you plastered a smile as you grabbed your phone from the table, raking your brains for excuses to leave the room, “Oh, it’s getting late. I should head back soon, someone is waiting for me.”

You noticed the way his grin faltered, as if noticing something amiss, “so soon?” he asked, craning his neck, trying to peek at the screen behind you, “is that yesterday? anything interesting?”

“Oh nothing, I just lost my money and wanted to see if someone had took it from my purse but apparently not. I guess I must have misplaced them-” you turned around abruptly, about to close the window which showed CCTV angle you had enlarged earlier when suddenly you felt his hand over yours on the mouse, stopping you from doing so. You swallowed thickly as you felt his chest pressing against your back, feeling trapped between him and the table.

“You sure about that? Because you’re obviously zooming on someone else,” he muttered in a low voice before whispering raspily against your ear, “I guess I should drop the façade now.”

You jerked away from him, horrified, as it dawned on you immediately how his whispering voice was similar to that of the man who had pushed you down the stairs in the South Wing. You teetered backwards in terror – now realising, with his back against the light, how he bears so much resemblance to the man: the tapered chin, the bony wide shoulders, and the thin-lipped murderous grin. You wasted no second then, turning around and running for the door but Jungwon was quicker as he slammed the door back shut just as you opened it, “too slow,” he whispered before you suddenly feel yourself getting yanked and flung to the side, pillowing against a stack of empty boxes at the corner.

You groaned as you mustered all your strength to sit up – not that it would have mattered though for he had climbed on top of you and straddled you in place within seconds, “It was fun while it lasted-“

You feel your heart sink as you watch his face contort almost effortlessly into a wicked expression as if that could have been his resting face. His gaze, which always somehow lent you some form of comfort, was now glazed with malice. His lips which always curved sweetly like a form of reassurance was now all twisted devilishly. You realised then just how trapped and silly you have been – essentially jumping out of the frying pan into the fire – thinking you were safe with Jungwon, only for him to be as much of a hazard as Sunghoon.

“You’re—” you croaked, feeling the dread and trepidation rising as you saw the way his canines fully erupt into razor-sharp fangs now, “what have I ever done to you? Why are you doing this?”

“Initially, you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time…” he drawled as he brought his hand up to your face, finger tracing your jawline agonisingly slowly, “then I found out about your relations with Sunghoon and the power I seemingly have over him whenever you’re with me –“

“What are you saying?! We’re not together—”

“Don’t play dumb,” he growled, the grin faltering, “if it weren’t for wanting you all to himself, I wouldn’t have been left nearly bloodless by an alley, only to be picked up by some other freaks like him and turned into one-“ he heaved an exasperated sigh, hands clenching in frustration, “—doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t turn back the time and I can’t really beat him so-“ he grabbed your collar, tugging it to reveal your neck, eyes glazed in what looked like hunger, “I’ll just hurt him where it hurts the most.”

You feel your heart quicken, hand discreetly slipping into your pocket, grasping the swiss army knife which you had decided to carry along at the last minute earlier. “You’re mistaken, I am nothing to him,” you jabbered, trying to distract him and find the right time to attack him, “he hates me and if you kill me, you’re just doing the dirty work for him.”

“Stop lying,” he chastised, his hand fisting your collar, “he was the one who saved you that time when I almost killed you and yesterday too – ah fuck, if he hadn’t caught up to you, I swear you’d be shreds.”

Sunghoon what? You thought to yourself, eyes shaky in utter disbelief and confusion but as your time was ticking, you had more urgent things to worry about. With the way Jungwon had been bitterly talking about Sunghoon so far, you figured you could use that against him so you lied, “then you should know that Sunghoon is the one I am supposed to be meeting and since I’m not there, he’s probably heading here – you’re going to be the one torn to shreds Jungwon.“

He chucked devilishly as he wrapped his hand over your neck, using his thumb to strain it sideward for a better angle, “well I’ve got to hurry then…” his expressions darkened, “Look at that—your mark is still there. I knew it looked familiar. Well, I should bite you over here too then – that would drive your Sunghoon completely off the rails to see his toy got permanently re-marked and killed in such a way-“

“no you wont-“ you hissed as you drove the swiss knife onto his upper arm with as much strength as you could muster, causing him to back up in pain, groaning and muttering expletives. You took the opportunity to kick him off, scrambling quickly back to your feet though the victory was short-lived as he lunged towards you, knocking you down again. “Playtime’s over,” he growled, dragging you back and yanking your shirt off your shoulders aggressively before dipping his head onto the crook of your neck, sending you thrashing harder under his weight as he lapped on a particular spot on your neck.

“Fuck you, get off me, get the fuck off me-“ you protested but his hands around your neck only tightened, constricting your airways and your screams, as you feel the tip of his fangs press onto your skin. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the worse. The next thing you knew however, the weight and pressure was lifted, and air rushed into your lungs so suddenly and rapidly, that you were reduced to a coughing mess. You could hear struggles and scuffles in the background followed by the sound of furniture toppling and glass breaking from the other end of the room.

Then silence.

Clambering back up to your feet, you stared in horror at the state of the room with files and furnitures toppled and a large broken window right at the corner, as if someone just ran through it, before you realise, as your eyes travelled down, legs peeking out from behind the shelves that concealed the area, seemingly motionless and covered in glass shards. Almost on auto-pilot, you hobbled towards the person – dread and trepidation rising at the thought that the person, who had saved you, might have been gravely hurt. Or worse, killed. Jungwon is after all a vampire with a body count.

As you rounded the corner, to your surprise, slumped against the wall on the floor, with shards of broken glass all over was Sunghoon – head thrown back, eyes shut, with a darkened patch on his shirt over the chest area. Realising how it was blood, you immediately flung towards him, any hatred you felt for him dissipating as panic seized you, “hey-“ you shook him, your hand almost recoiling at how cold he was to the touch, “Sunghoon, wake up- hey wake up-“

“I’m not dead yet,” you hear him mumble weakly, eyes opening to mere slits – the golden irises peeking through. You fell back in relief, exhaling sharply, “– that's a relief.”

He scoffed weakly, “you’re going to regret that and wished I was instead.”

“Shut up,” you reprimanded as you knelt beside him, dusting the shards of glass off of him as your eyes scanned around the room for something that could have stymie his bleeding. You grabbed a table cloth nearby, balling it, as you turned back to face him – alarmed at the way the patch had grown. "You're–" you pressed the cloth onto his chest, seeing it get rapidly soaked up, "– profusely bleeding. Aren't you supposed to be invincible?"

"I'm fine," he mustered but you weren't convinced at all and quickly you used your free hand to fish your phone out, about to dial the emergency services for help when you hear him groan weakly as he readjusted himself against the wall behind him, “no need to call for help- just go…”

“Go? Are you crazy?” you protested, scooting closer instead to apply more pressure, “what if you die?”

You watched in confusion as his hand slowly crept up your hand that was holding the cloth, his fingers lacing yours from the back of your hand, “I won’t die easily,” he muttered, bringing your hand close to your lips, as his eyes glowed brighter which you now understood like some sort of telltale sign of hunger or anger, “but you, y/n, will, if you stay any longer around me.”

You noticed then that there was blood dripping by the side of your palm to which Sunghoon suddenly licked. You flinched, not just from the action, but from the stinging pain, only realising then that you had unknowingly injured yourself, probably from the glass shards you were dusting off earlier, “do you see the predicament you are in right now y/n?”

You swallowed thickly, trying to look unaffected even as your heartbeat started picking up, “not until you get help Sunghoon. Just tell me who to call then if not emergency services—"

Suddenly he lunged towards you, toppling you over with ease, completely dwarfing you, “look, I think you’re mistaken,” he huffed, eyes flitting to your neck and you swore you could see murder in his eyes and it was all quickly engulfing you in a paralyzing sense of déjà vu to that evening when he bit you, “I didn’t save you out of some noble reason. I did it simply because you’re my meal and I won’t let anyone else ravish you.”

You breathing became increasingly laboured the longer you stared into his piercing eyes – almost as if he was doing something to your mind, conjuring the worst of memories, inciting the worst of emotions – as he prodded on, “Also, you’re my prey so no one else get to lay a hand on you even if that would have made my life easier.”

He suddenly backed up slightly, giving you enough space and chance to run away, “I love some cat and mouse game so I’d rather catch you when I’m at my best,” he brushed his hair back, brows raised threateningly, “so you better run now before I regain my full strength.”

You propped yourself back up groggily, eyes locking into his as if trying to probe the depth of his mind, as if not wanting to believe the sadistic things he has been sprouting, as if wanting to believe that he really had saved you for noble reasons and not for whatever possessive and obsessive bullshit he had been sprouting.

“I said... run!” he repeated, this time, more domineeringly and that somehow did it for you. As if a switch had been turned inside of you, your body assumed a life of its own, powering through self-preservation as you recoiled from him and made a run for the door. Everything after that was a blur — potentially distorted through a series of heightened fear, adrenaline, intense pain and disjointed confusion. All you could remember was running out of the library, out of the wing, out of the compound — not stopping once until your legs buckled from exhaustion by the side of a bus stop, landing hardly against the tarmac floor. The cut where he had licked now oozed even more blood, dripping onto the concrete floor – as if mirroring the way your mental state was fraying.

— vi.

You hardly left your home throughout Winter Break, coming up with all sorts of excuses not to join Sunoo in the library when it would have usually been the other way around – with you egging him to join you since exams were just around the corner. Eventually the new semester rolled in and fortunately or rather, miraculously, you have yet to bump into Sunghoon even now that you were entering your 2nd week. You could see his name in the registrar sometimes and even saw his clique but he was never around. The image of him bleeding out on the floor continuously burnt at the back of your mind – like guilt haunting you excruciatingly with every day he is absent, redirecting your mind quickly to the worst scenario possible.

But that isn’t possible, is it?

After all, he is a vampire – a being that is supposed to have superhuman powers and regenerative abilities that wouldn’t just die from what look like a stab wound on the chest. But then again, you would find yourself wondering sometimes much to your consternation, if that isn’t the case then where is he?

Jungwon, too, had disappeared. The official word is that he had moved abroad after being offered a prestigious scholarship though you doubt there is any truth in that. After what he did to Sunghoon, it is just possible that Sunghoon had him killed. Or worse, he could just be yet another pawn in Sunghoon’s grand scheme of things – used to torment you and then paint himself as the white knight.

“Hey, can I sit here?”

You hummed in affirmation though your affable smile faltered as you turned and looked at who it was – Jake Sim. You swallowed thickly, eyes wandering wildly for any signs of Sunghoon. Thankfully, it was just him. “You’re… alone?” you couldn’t help but ask. He nodded, sporting his usual radiant and infectious smile, “the rest aren’t joining this module – none of them are a fan of this much math.”

“Sunghoon too?” you asked before internally cussing at how loose-lipped you suddenly became, almost as your lips had begun to have a life of its own. Thankfully, Jake thought nothing of it, just shaking his head as he took out his iPad, looking over his notes, “nah, he is in this with me but he’s just a bit under the weather lately.”

You straightened up in your seat, suddenly wary as the image of him bleeding out replay again and again in your mind like a broken tape, “he’s… he’s not hurt is he?”

“Nah,” Jake reassured, beaming widely, “don’t worry about it.”

You opened your mouth, wanting to prod more out of guilt, but closed it immediately, realising how you shouldn’t worry for someone who should have been the enemy. Thankfully, the lecturer entered just in time, preventing you from engaging in anymore meaningless chatter with Jake.

Life continued on peacefully for another week and gradually you have started to loosen up – no longer jolting to every sound, no longer looking over your shoulder abruptly and no longer on a vigilant lookout for danger when you were in a crowd.

But troubles soon brew within your own circle.

“No, I’m serious, it’s legitimate!” Sunoo sighed exasperatedly, the frustration evident on his face and strained voice as he paced haphazardly in front of you and Ni-Ki, “I don’t know the exact connections they have to the cases, but they were wrought in it for sure.”

You handed back his file, which had now been filled with sightings report and pictures of Sunghoon and clique, trying to feign disinterest and nonchalance though your heart was drumming against your chest. “Sunoo, the culprit has been caught. There’s nothing we can do–” you looked away from him, shifting your attention back to your work as you feared that you might crack if you look any longer into Sunoo’s pleading eyes, “–unless you get more concrete evidence like I don’t know, them dragging a dead body or something.”

Ni-Ki nodded, leaning back against his seat unconcernedly, “yeah and come on this is Heeseung and his friends you’re suspecting – you need more than evidence to take them down.”

Sunoo scoffed, looking completely dejected and betrayed as he looked from Ni-Ki to you. You felt your heart sank when you met his eyes which was glinting with sadness and what looked like betrayal as he backed away, “Fine. I’ll just pursue this on my own then. Apparently two of my closest friends don’t have enough backbone to fight the status quo nor enough loyalty to support me.”

“Sunoo-“ you called out, hopping off your chair to go after him but Ni-Ki grabbed you by the wrist, stopping you, “he’s in an emotional doldrum right now and no amount of reason could get through that y/n. You might just get into a bigger fight with him if you continue.”

You sighed weakly, agreeing, looking forlornly at the swinging door that he had stormed off through – the guilt was gnawing inside of you. This would have been the perfect time to divulge what you knew about Sunghoon to Sunoo and perhaps devise a plan to get him now that you knew the truth about him and his potential weakness. But instead of doing just that, you lied to your own bestfriend and covered for the enemy for reasons you never dared to ponder about.

You tried to reassure yourself that night that this was just one of Sunoo's momentary outbursts – that he will come around, as he always does. He was after all one of the most non-egotistical and selfless person you have ever known – essentially the personification of sunshine. So it really boggled and worried you to see Sunoo adamantly still seething towards you and Ni-Ki even after a few days, ignoring you both very blatantly – especially you, as if you betrayed him.

But then again, had he known the truth you have been withholding, he wasn’t wrong. It would constitute a betrayal. Though you honestly don’t know who you were doing it for. You knew on one hand you were doing it to protect Sunoo. After all, he used to be a sickly kid whose condition can deteriorate rapidly even with the slightest ailment or injury. Hence knowing the kind of danger Sunghoon poses, you couldn’t help but be paternalistic over him. On the other hand, perhaps your boggling actions also stemmed from wanting to call it even with Sunghoon who has, after all, saved you numerous times. You understood very well that, as he asserted, he hadn’t saved you for noble reasons but still saving is saving, without his actions of which, you would have long been dead.

That evening however, as you were getting lulled into a sleeping state, your phone rang. You were going to just ignore it as it was midnight but with Sunoo on the caller ID, you immediately answered it, falling off the couch in panic, “Sunoo, I-“

“Hey calm down-,” he shushed you, “I told you I’ll get evidence.”

“What do you mean?” you asked warily, already getting an inkling that he was up to no good.

“Well, I’m loitering around in their hang-out place now and guess what? They have a secret door leading out to the basement-“

“Kim Sunoo!” you gasped, trying to reorient yourself as you were still groggy from the nap. You grabbed your coat, foot already at the door within seconds, fumbling with your keys, “you better step out of there now! What if they find you?”

“Well, they have no business having a whole ass secret basement in the first place. They should explain that to me first before anything,” he reasoned sassily, “also, don’t worry. My sources told me that they’re currently at a party in the neighbouring town so you know, this is place is free real estate right now.’

“Sunoo don’t-“ you sighed, stopping yourself, fearing that reprimanding him further will just make him distance himself again. “I’ll go with you then okay?” you lied, already shuffling past the hallways and out of your accommodation block, “Can you just get out of there now please? Wait for me in the courtyard or something. We’ll venture in together then. You said it yourself, I’m smart and two heads are better than one so–”

“Really?" he gasped. You can almost hear his signature smile from his tone as he cheerily agreed, "You’re the best- all right, I’ll go out now."

Except, after 15 minutes of waiting for him by the courtyard, he failed to show up nor pick up his calls, making you antsy. Fearing the worst, you headed to campus, marching towards the Wing where their hangout room was. You begrudgingly approached the huge door that lay at the end of the hallway, which was already ajar. The door, designed in a Gothic Architectural style, was imposing with huge columns on either side, gargoyles on top, intricate carvings on the arch and a golden wolf knocker by the center of the door, completing the grimness of it, as if blatantly warning of the danger that would befall the fools who dare to trespass. In fact, no one had actually been in the room except for the guys themselves so again, rumours are abound of what lay behind the massive door. But none of that mattered now – you needed to get to Sunoo, fast.

You held your breath as you push the door slightly, just enough to slip yourself in. You had to quell the gasp that automatically arose in you as you ventured further into the room – a massive, gothic architecture, common room that seemed more fitting for societies and clubs than just for some group of 4 rich kids to hang around in.

Despite the vaulted ceilings and tall windows, the room was grim and dark thanks to its monochromatic grey walls and furniture with the only splash of colour being from the curtains and rugs, of which were in hunter green; coat of arms, similar to what Sunghoon wore on his lapel during the Ball, of which featured a ruby gem in the centre; and an array of paintings – all of which had dark colour palettes and feature grim images that rhymes with death, despair, desolation, you name it.

You looked around frantically for any sign of door or staircase but all you see are windows, walls, arches and bookcases, wondering how in the world had Sunoo gotten to the basement. Reminded of the secret passage in the library, it occurred to you that perhaps the entrance is hidden.

As you looked around specifically for something out of place, your eyes couldn’t help but return to the tall bookcase in the corner. You approached it, eying every spot carefully and touching anything that looked remotely out of place before your eyes settled on a rather conspicuous book with navy blue spine and nothing but the symbol ' ; ' on it – an embossing that somehow bear resemblance to a bite mark. You tugged on it, wanting to see what kind of book it was when suddenly as you pulled it to a certain angle, the book case shifted, swinging halfway to reveal a winding staircase.

The staircase was anything but welcoming but you went down anyway with Sunoo in the forefront of your mind. Unlike the dark and sombre common room upstairs, the basement, still in gothic architecture was more brightly-lit but still barren and cold, resembling grimly more like a crypt. You looked around the maze-like crypt, firing off multiple texts to Sunoo to enquire on his whereabouts. Your ears soon perked up when you heard his notification sound softly echoing, seemingly coming from the other side. You followed the passage way, finding a door laying by the end as you round the bend, with muffled voices becoming increasingly audible as you get closer. You carefully positioned yourself behind the door, which was already ajar, holding your breath as you carefully tried to peak through the space. You hand immediately flew to your mouth, stifling the gasps that you almost let out, as you saw Sunoo laying unconscious on the floor.

“He should have heeded our warning—” you heard a familiar voice – the owner of which suddenly appearing into your field of vision, crouching down by Sunoo, inspecting the papers strewn next to his body. It was Heeseung. You gulped, positioning your phone in between the gaps carefully to record the scene in case anything happen. You listened to him continue to say something to someone else in the room, “—we’ve been delaying it too much. It’s time to get rid of him.”

You swallowed thickly, your hands shaking as you carefully edge your phone, trying to capture the other side of the room where the other man he was talking to were. Your breath suddenly hitched when you caught the man in your viewfinder – it was Sunghoon, whose attention suddenly then flitted from Sunoo to the door, as if detecting your presence. You immediately recoiled, holding your phone straight to your chest – fervently hoping that you hadn’t been caught.

“What is it?” you heard Heeseung asked, to which Sunghoon fortunately just shook his head to, “it’s nothing.”

Shit shit shit, you cussed in your head, the possibility of Heeseung also being a vampire now dawning in your mind – along with the rest of clique, Jake and Jay, who also frequents this room. It was only now, in hindsight, was it all falling well into place: the way some are part of the Student Union and therefore, Student Patrols; the way Heeseung was adamant in stopping Sunoo’s investigation; the way Heeseung warned you not to tell anyone of your attack in campus. Only now you realised that there was a reason why these lads were shrouded in so much secrecy and mystery in the first place – with an air that is difficult to place surrounding them, straddling somewhere between hypnotising allure and sinisterness.

You raked your brain for what to do next. Sunoo was lying unconscious in the hands of people who would be more than capable and ready to kill him. Yet if you barge in, you can’t save him either and the incriminating evidence you have as well as the knowledge of their true selves, would just die with you. Quickly you sent the video off to Ni-Ki along with a quick text on where you are, asking him to come quick, only to be hit by a notification that there were no service. Shit, you cussed again internally, deciding to hurry back to where you came from to get service, promising Sunoo in your head that you will definitely come back for him.

Except as you turned the bend, a figure materialised right before you. You gasped, teetering backwards. It was Sunghoon – his head tilted in such a condescending way, “Not sure if I should commend your bravery or foolishness for walking into the tiger’s den willingly like this.”

You were about to open your mouth to protest but found yourself shoved into a nearby room in a flash – a small reading room of some sort. “Stay back you psycho,” you hissed, backing away and maintaining the distance.

“Well you should have run when you could have. Should have snitched when you could have. Too late now is it?” he sneered, blocking the only exit in the room.

“Let Sunoo go,” you demanded, trying to mask the trepidation rising within. He scoffed disdainfully. He never actually planned to hurt Sunoo but he played along anyway, totally enjoying the power he has over you whenever Sunoo enters the equation, "he did trespass where he shouldn't have, you know."

"He didn't mean to. He's probably just curious like everybody else about what lies behind your lofty door," you tried to reason. He raised both brows, sarcastically feigning surprise and interest, "Oh? is that why we found some of our documents and a bunch of pictures in his bag? Just curiousity?"

"I'll get him to apologize," you offered, pleading almost, "or you know what, I'll apologize on behalf of him. I'll even get on my knees–"

"y/n, stop–" he rolled his eyes, "apologies and kneeling down may feed the egos and pride of humans but they mean nothing to my kind – not me at least and definitely not when it comes from a mere mortal."

"There is no such thing as free lunch," you blurted, stopping him as he was about to exit the room, "you quoted that aphorism to me remember? then I'll make you a deal in exchange of letting Sunoo go, unharmed."

He approached you at a glacial pace, the fireplace nearby casting his shadow ominously behind him, making him loom larger than usual, “and what could you ever offer that I possibly don’t and can’t have?”

“My blood.”

A quick twitch of the brow and slight tipping of the corner of his lips flashed almost imperceptibly across his inscrutable face, the interest and desire cracking through unwittingly. “Are you offering yourself as a bloodbag for him? How noble,” he scoffed, “and disgusting – what are you two, Romeo and Juliet?”

“Aren’t you being too mouthy for someone in need?”

“Back to you. I’m holding both you and your beloved Sunoo’s life in my hands and you’re still acting up?” he suddenly lunged towards you, shoving you against the cold wall. Though in the heat of emotions, he had failed to see that you had quickly grabbed the swiss army knife from the pocket of your jacket, flipped it open and now, just as his hands were wrapped around your neck, threatening to choke you, your knife was already pointing dangerously on his chest, threatening to re-puncture him where he was injured. His brows shot up, a grin of disbelief tugging on his lips – both amazed and vexed by your fast reflex and unrelenting defiance, “nice effort but that puny knife won’t do jackshit on me-“

His grin faltered as your expressions moulded into that of mocking delight, “sure about that?”

He looked down in a horrifying realisation that instead of puncturing him, you had turned the knife, grasping it by the blade instead, the blood now dripping onto his shoes, the scent of which was quickly engulfing his senses. When his eyes flitted back to yours, it was already golden and his canines were already elongating into full fangs. That was all you needed, “well, seems like I have the upper hand.”

He snarled, his hand tightening over your neck, like a snake constricting its prey before swallowing them whole, eyes narrowing murderously at you, “you know I can just kill you and drain the life out of you right?”

“Yes, but you never did. What's really stopping you?” you gritted your teeth, feeling the pressure suffocating you. Just when you felt the air almost knocked out of your lungs, he released you. You fell onto the hard ground, hunched up, violently grasping for air.

"Just because I haven't doesn't mean I won't. I like to saviour my meals," he crouched down in front of you. You stared back into his tantalizing stare through eyes that were still wet from your coughing fit, “your eyes are already glowing, I don't think you have the luxury for mind games right now. I meant what I said – leave Sunoo the fuck alone.”

The way you offered yourself was everything he had schemed for – even better than forcefully taking it away from you. After all, for someone rebellious and iconoclastic like you, giving yourself up like that is probably equivalent to stomping on your pride. This was exactly the kind that would feed his ego. At the same time, he also hated it. He hated how you were so willing to give yourself up just for that weakling Sunoo even when he wasn’t going to hurt him in the first place.

He wanted so bad to not yield in, to toy you further in the way that best butter up his inflated sense of self. But most of all, sillily, he wanted you to give in to him for him not for anyone else’s sake.

But you were right, he doesn’t have the luxury to hold on to his pride, not at the moment at least, when the scent of your blood was slowly engulfing his senses and tainting every bit of rationality he had left. It didn’t help that he hadn’t been feasting on live blood either which in turn slowed down the healing of his injuries – all of which just made your blood all the more enticing and irresistible. He grabbed your chin harshly, jerking your face upwards towards him, “Fine. I’ll take your offer but there would be no resisting and no excuses. If I want it, I’ll get it.”

You narrowed your eyes, grimacing at the thought, but you swallowed you pride, “only if you promise to get my consent first and not drain me lifeless.”

You know the fragility of words and promises but if there is anything you learnt from him is that he seemed to hold himself to such high dignified and noble standards that something as simple as breaking a promise would have been a blow to his pride. You thought too, perhaps it’s the chase that he was obsessed with – which you think would best be countered with perhaps, not outwitting and one-upping him, but rather, cutting the chase abruptly. If the chase is what drives him high, then your prickliness and defiance would just be feeding him – like an unending Waltz. Thus you figured that you needed to end his chase, even if your pride is on the line.

“You’re awfully demanding,” his hand slowly crept down your neck, his fingers wrapping over the back of it, “your blood is the same as everyone else’s don’t you know that? It’s highly substitutable.”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” you mocked.

“Fine,” he muttered resentfully, eyes already trained on a spot on your neck, about to launch forward to you when you stopped him, “not my neck,” you raised your hand towards him, “until you free Sunoo, you’re not getting it from where you want. That’s part of the deal remember? Consent?”

He scoffed. Sunghoon should have hated this. The way you’ve played him instead of the other way around but just like Jake said, so intricate had he weaved his webs for you, he couldn’t help but be ensnared in it as well. In fact, at this rate, it just seems like he’s the one getting ensnared deeper. Had you been just anyone else, he would have just lunged towards you, draining you in the vilest way he could. Unfortunately for him, you weren't just anyone else. You have become a someone. Someone who has struck a chord in him in ways that managed to stop himself from fully succumbing to his animalistic senses, to hold onto any last shred of rationality and sense even when it's hanging by a thread.

Begrudgingly, he silently complied, yanking your hand indiginantly, his fingers lacing over yours through the back of your hand like talons. Your shoulders tensed up as he brought your hand towards his lips, wincing when you felt his cold tongue brushing past the wound before he started sucking on it. You swallowed thickly at the sight, increasingly unnerved, as you watched him shut his eyes, his brows knitting in pleasure, his adam’s apple bobbing rapidly.

“That’s-“ you stuttered, starting to feel lightheaded after a few minutes, “that’s enough.”

His lids fluttered open, the golden irises peeking through almost ominously. He lifted his head slightly, a smirk already adorning his lips reflecting some sort of satisfaction and conceit, his tongue making a quick swipe over his blood-stained lips, “you think that was enough?”

The next thing you knew he had lunged towards you, toppling you down against the cold cement. With his large hand wrapped over the back of your neck, he titled your head awkwardly to the side as if readying your neck. You wedged an arm against him, trying to stop him from descending further, though with the crazed look in his eyes you wondered how long could you fend him for, “Park Sunghoon,” you protested, “you promised.”

He scoffed, prying your hand off of him easily, “ever heard of The Scorpion and The Frog fable?” he smirked, dipping his head onto the crook of your neck. You shuddered, feeling his hot breath against your skin, his lips ghosting just inches away. You feel his grip tightening and you squeezed your eyes shut, your hand clenching his shirt as if bracing yourself for the pain.

But the painful prick never came. Instead you feel his lips softly pressed over your skin before he started sucking on a particular spot in a gentler way, right over where your original bite mark was. “Gotcha,” he whispered and you jerked away from him, your fingers immediately feeling that spot – confused when you felt no puncture marks.

“Take that as a seal,” he backed up, eyes reverting to its normal colour.

It was only at home later you realised what he had meant when you saw the deep purple bruise on your neck – a harmless love bite – as his words repeated in your mind like some sort of siren song, “take that as a seal. A seal that you owe me. And when it fades – the original bite mark that remains underneath should remind you that I own you.”

— vii.

True to Sunghoon's words, Sunoo returned unharmed – having absolutely no recollection of venturing into Sunghoon’s lair and having little to no resolve any more in pursuing the case that he had been so obsessed about, something you were sure was also of Sunghoon’s doing.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was sparsely around. Months passed without him pestering you nor asking you for what you owe him – something you were grateful about. Perhaps, as you projected, all it took to extinguish his obsession with you was indeed to cut the chase because since then, he had stopped bothering you. Just as quick as the bruise on your neck faded, you figured, the deal would no longer matter to him. Eventually the bruise fade and seasons pass, leaving only the brown puncture marks on your neck which never fully disappeared, lingering now permanently like a birthmark.

As another semester rolled and ended, you soon approached graduation season. By then you were fully convinced that normalcy has indeed returned. Until, that is, you received a sudden text from Sunoo one night announcing that he was going to Sunghoon’s hang-out spot again. The panic that is reminiscent of that fateful night immediately engulfed you and when your calls returned unanswered and rejected, eventually, you hopped off bed and ran back to campus, bursting into Sunghoon’s lair.

The room felt so still and void with no sign of Sunoo so you figured that maybe he had ventured to the basement again so you made your way towards the bookshelf when someone broke the silence.

“Sunoo must really be your Achilles Heel,” Sunghoon appeared from the shadows before throwing a phone onto the couch near you. It was Sunoo’s phone.

“Where is he?” you demanded, “you promised me you wouldn’t-“

“And I didn’t,” he smirked, leaning against a column haughtily, “he’s safe and sound in his home. Just probably panicking over the fact that he can’t find his phone.”

“What?” you managed, still breathless from all the running, “So you tricked me?”

“How else can I get you to come to me,” he raised his brows, arms folded, “Anyway, I’ve held my part of the deal, it’s time for you to hold yours.”

You swallowed thickly. Of course you’d never back away from your promise, not when he has held his, but the way his voice dropped and his gaze darkened was unnerving you, making you feel as if you were walking up a guillotine for your head. “Of course,” you replied, feigning nonchalance, “you didn’t have to trick me with Sunoo, I’d have come to you either way. It’s a promise after all.”

“Oh really?” he walked up to you, his footsteps echoing ominously in the grim room as his eyes begin to lighten in colour – a transition you had seen countless times now but still managed to struck dread in you, “with the way your heart is racing, I doubt that y/n.”

You scoffed, “I ran all the way, of course it’s racing. I’m not you with your slow beating heart or dead heart – whatever it is.”

His brows shot up, slightly taken aback but amused nevertheless – your defiance and answer-backs have always been entertaining, even when it’s irksome, “glad you clarified, I would’ve mistaken it for you being flustered by me, if not intimidated.”

“Cut the chase Sunghoon,” you shot him down, offering your hand, “blood is blood right? it shouldn't matter where it comes from so can't you just make a tear here and take it from here instead of my neck?"

Eyes locked on yours, you can almost see a flicker of irritation in his golden eyes, as he trailed his hand up yours before he gripped it, yanking you close towards him while the other hand swiftly snaked around your back, enrapturing you with him. “are you trying to make discounts right now?” he glowered, his hold as string as iron, as he lowered his face down to yours, his breath hot on your ears, “your neck is where the prize is.”

You furrowed your brows, feeling the hair at the back of your neck stood up. “Fine,” you scowled, “then do it fast, I can’t stand being so close to you.”

“Doesn’t sound like my problem,” he smirked as he suddenly hoisted you up the piano so you’ll be near eye-level with him. "What are yo-" you complained, completely taken aback, your hands fisting his clothes.

“aren’t you going to bare your neck for me?” he eyed your button up, “or you want me to rip it open for you instead?”

“Fuck you,” you spat, begrudgingly unbuttoning your top buttons, staring back at those eyes which were growing luminous by the second as if reflecting the intensity of the hunger inside while his grin grew wider the more skin you exposed. His hand snaked further up your back as he dipped his head and bury it on the crook of your neck. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this," he muttered breathily against your neck as his other hand wrapped itself tightly over the back of your neck to tilt it slightly, already getting lulled by the warmth radiating from your body and your perfume which was deliciously and intoxicatingly blending with the scent of your blood. As his lips grazed your neck, he felt a spark of electricity – a hint of something more than just hunger.

You flinched when you suddenly felt his fangs puncture your skin – a prickle of pain which quickly diffuses as the weird feeling of haziness set in. Your breath hitched when you feel him bury himself deeper onto the crook of your neck, his nails digging onto your back as the taste of your blood engulfed all of his senses, igniting fire in his veins, setting it all ablaze. Feeling increasingly lulled, your hand automatically flew to his shoulders, holding onto him for support unwittingly.

Sunghoon could feel the hunger within him growing with every drop but perplexingly, the more he drank, the less satiating your blood became, and yet the hunger burns still – as if indicating that there was another hunger growing entrenched that needed sating and it wasn't blood. He pulled back slightly, confused, as he stared onto your neck – now freshly punctured, blood oozing down. You remembered feeling relief when he stopped as you really thought, at the rate at which he was frenzily feeding on you, he would have lost control.

The relief however was short-lived when you felt him plant what felt like a kiss on the spot. You furrowed your brows, utterly confused, only to be jolted back to reality when he did it again, now trailing kisses up your neck. You jerked your head away from him weakly, alarmed, only to be met by a gaze that was so searing and electric with desire – unnerving you more than his hunger-filled gaze ever had. "What are y-" you were going to ask but he never let you finished as he smashed his lips onto yours so hungrily, so urgently, so passionately – impatiently deepening the kiss with so much ferocity as if in a drunken stupor. Struggling to push him off, you leaned back slightly instead, just enough to wedge an arm against him to stop him from descending further while you extended your other hand behind you to prop yourself up against the piano lid. "Sunghoon, what are you doing?!" you demanded breathlessly.

"Isn't this a lesser evil than sucking your blood?" he muttered breathily, eyes completely glazed with lust. Suddenly you feel him grab the back of your thighs, pulling close towards him, causing you to lose your balance as he completely engulfed your frame, pushing you against the piano lid as he recaptured your lips in a fiery kiss. This time, more hungrily, more desperately, more aggressively – completely out of character for him – as if mirroring the unrelenting desire and yearning within, the repression of which was now overspilling uncontrollably. Crushing your body completely against his, he deepened the kiss further – almost urgently – parting your lips so adeptly and slipping his tongue into your mouth, causing you to protest harder though he easily pried your hand off of him, holding it with vice-like grip.

You eventually started to feel lightheaded, your strength quickly dissipating. As you floated in and out of your consciousness, you feel him trailing drunk and hungry kisses down your neck, then your collarbone, his hand tugging your cloths down your shoulders, his nails digging onto your skin possessively.

Then it all went to black.

— viii.

You jolted awake, sitting upright and panting as if you just had a really bad dream. Your hand instinctively reached for your neck and you felt some fresh puncture marks where the old mark used to be. That was when you knew, it wasn’t a dream at all. Well, at least I’m still alive, you were thinking to yourself before realising the unfamiliar bed you were sitting upright on and the unfamiliar black silk slip dress you were wearing. You stared up, aghast, only realising that the bane of your existence was seated on an armchair just opposite of bed, looking visibly amused.

You protectively gathered the blanket around you, trying to cover every inch of your exposed skin, “where am— why are you— what have you done to me?”

As if the circumstances you were in wasn’t questionable enough, the way he sloppily wore his ivory patterned silk shirt with the first few buttons unbuttoned in a way that partially exposed his chest, was further shoring it. It was just too casual and leisurely compared to the usual Sunghoon, who had always been neatly dressed to the nines.

“Oh darling,” he drawled as he rose up, walking at a glacial place towards the bed before resting his hands against the top of the footboard, “I’m offended you forgot about what we did. It was pretty wild. Sorry about your clothes though, couldn’t help but rip them to shreds in the heat of the mome-“

You threw a pillow at him, not even letting him finish, as you feel the heat rising up your cheeks, reminded of the way he had ferociously kissed you, the way his lips had trailed over your skin, and the way his hands roamed possessively over you. “Stop playing around,” you balked. He scoffed as he brushed his dishevelled hair back. You realised then that was the first time you’ve seen him with his hair down, since it was always slicked or parted in a way that revealed his forehead, and it was somehow making him look softer than usual – as if he could do no harm though the sly grin and the taunting gaze on his face begged to differ.

He grabbed something from a nearby table, offering it to you, "Stop with the scowling now, I was only joking. Here, take this – it’s a silk robe to cover you if you want. Unless you want to stay under that blanket all day.”

You snatched it begrudgingly from his hand as he continued, “you passed out. Apparently, your blood hasn’t recuperated yet so even my meagre consumption last night caused you to black out. I had a doctor and a nurse over last night to check and replenish you. You should consider taking iron pills and multivitamins you know – you’re borderline anaemic.”

“And whose fault was it in the first place?” you remarked sarcastically as you put on the black silk robe, “anyway, that should be enough signs for you to find a better bloodbag don’t you think? This one is a dud.”

“not in your lifetime,” he quipped.

You furrowed your brows, “well you certainly weren’t just drinking my blood last night.”

“Ah right –,” his brows shot up, a smug grin tugging the corner of his lips, “apparently I wasn’t just hungry for blood. Not when your lips were in such proximity. Also, like I said, wasn't it a lesser evil compared to blood? you won't risk dying."

“I’d rather die, you insufferable prick,” you spat, plastering the fakest and most sarcastic grin you could muster. Sunghoon just smiled bitterly at that. Perhaps eloquence was never his strong suit. Perhaps all the deaths he had to take care of and witnessed over the decades had hardened him. Perhaps his rather strict and disciplined upbringing had skewed his personality in such a way that emotions are to be relegated to the bottom, beneath all else. Whatever it was, he could never compel himself to say the utmost truth to you – disguising everything instead in the most vicious and selfish nonsense he could muster. Sometimes, it almost felt as if he was trying to convince himself, not just you, that it was all just primal desires and nothing more.

“Give me my clothes back,” you demanded, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“I’ve chucked it away – it’s all bloodied with some buttons ripped off. Hence, your current get-up—” he gestured, “don’t worry, a female housekeeper was the one who had helped you change but she misunderstood the context and put you into a rather seductive change of outfit. I’m not really complaining thou–” he trailed off, his eyes travelling down your body before you snapped him out of it, “my eyes are up here genius.”

“Sorry, it’s just a bit too distracting,” he cleared his throat, “— anyway, as I was saying, I had someone go and buy more change of clothes for you to change into. You would have to wait though, we’re currently far from the city centre.”

“Then lend me your clothes.”

“I don’t have any,” he replied instantaneously, “I just bought this mansion not too long ago so it's still pretty barren of my stuffs."

It was lie. A lie just so that he can make you stay longer – something out of character for him given how he never liked to linger around his partners. A lie that completely juxtaposed his belief that it was all just primal desires.

“I told you someone is coming with some new change of clothes. Just a few more minutes or hours of wait shouldn’t hurt. Unless you’re comfortable going out in that,” he cocked his head smugly as you eyed your get-up. It definitely was too revealing and probably too inappropriate for your standards as it looked more like a nightgown to be walking around in broad daylight in.

“As if it’s safe to stay here any longer than necessary with you,” you grumbled.

“Let’s just say if I wanted to do something bad to you, I would have already done it,” he muttered as a matter of factly, “you were, after all, passed out for more than 24 hours in a rather seductive dress.”

You glared at him, speechless now.

“Anyway, I’ll get you some food while waiting. You must be famished.”

Just primal desires, he repeated. As if he hadn’t personally tell his cook to make all the dishes that you liked, telling him in minute details how you liked your dish more on the salty side; how you didn't like broccolis and carrots; how you liked your steak medium rare – he knew it so well like the back of his hand. Just primal desires, he reassured himself. As if he hadn’t been selflessly nursing and caring for you all night, mind constantly occupied in worries and guilt for putting you in harm's way.

“I’m not hungry–" you retorted.

"You are. You passed out for more than 24 hours, you need to eat.”

“Well, I don’t want to. I want to go home,” you insisted, adamant.

Eyes locked onto you icily, he leaned down towards you, his hands resting against the mattress, on either side of your thighs, “look, we’re deep in the forest, away from the city. There are no public transport around here and little to no service, so your ticket out of this place is me and unless you eat, you’re not going anywhere.”

Just primal desires, he told himself again just as he spun the web further around you, getting increasingly lulled by the vision before him: you in his bed, in his mansion, away from the city. It was a perfect vision: just you and him, safely tucked away from all the noise, from everyone else. Just you for him.

“You can’t force me.”

“You want to try me?” he raised his brows tauntingly, “because I will carry you downstairs if you insists. I will spoonfeed you if I have to. Or better, I’ll just put the food in my mouth and pass it to you through-“

You shoved him away, vexed, as you rose up from the bed, “you’re such a domineering prick.”

“Only because you’re always so indomitable,” he quipped, looking satisfied even when he had just called you names. You begrudgingly followed him as he led you out of the room through a series of corridors, a grand staircase, past the living room and finally to the kitchen. Unlike his loft which was in modern architecture last time, this place was in Gothic Architecture, just like their hang-out room but with lots of painting, sculptures and books though no amount of adornment could offset the grimness of the place.

Over the dining table was a selection of mouth-watering food – the quality of which looked as if it came from a Michelin-starred restaurant. “I can’t eat these,” you muttered, arms folded, “how do I know you haven’t poisoned them? And how do I know if it isn’t human meat?”

“That’s a very uncivilised and savage take on us. We don’t eat human flesh,” he corrected.

“Still doesn’t root out poisoning,” you insisted, “if you want me to eat then cook something up for me now and let me watch. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy.”

“You’re very distrustful.”

“I’d be stupid not be after all you put me through,” you snapped.

“Fine,” he exhaled sharply as he moved to the kitchen. You took a seat by the island, watching his every moves like a hawk as he took ingredients out of the fridge and lay it all out in front of you, "happy now?" he asked, gesturing at the frozen chicken meat. He then proceeded to chop up some aromatics so adeptly, as if he had done this a million times, after setting a pot to boil.

"How you even know how to cook? you guys don’t really eat and even if you do I’m pretty sure you have a cook to do that for you, no?”

“We don’t derive any satisfaction from eating anything but consuming blood so yes, we don’t really eat. But we’ve lived alongside humans for so long, we’ve got to learn the trade somehow,” he proceeded to wash the chicken meat – cleaning it so adeptly and meticulously with salt, lemon and vinegar. You soon got distracted by the pictures that lined the walls in the dining room – some of which featured him and his clique in garbs from different eras though they looked the same physically – only slightly younger and shorter in a few pictures. You looked back at him, scrutinising him when his eyes flitted to you, "are you wondering how old I am?”

“No. Why would I be curious about you?”

“Around 120,” he smirked relishing in the way your eyes widened and the way you pressed your lips together to suppress a gasp, “that’s the equivalent of 20s in human age by the way.”

“Do you guys just stop ageing physically beyond a certain threshold or something?”

“I thought you said you weren’t interested,” he gibed as he began frying – the scent soon filling the air deliciously, making your mouth water, "We do. But physically, it kind of slows down once we enter our teen. Usually at a rate of 1 year for every 10 human years or something.”

Looking over his shoulders, he asked, “Anything else you’re interested about? I’ll entertain. I’d rather be interrogated than be glowered at. You’re starting bore holes on my back.”

You lifted both of your legs up on the stool, hugging your knees close to your chest as you pondered carefully. You had a lot of questions truth to be told but after insisting that you had nothing to be curious about when it comes to him – that would be embarrassing. That being said, one pertinent question continue to burn in the back of your mind and no amount of pride could quell the curiosity behind that. “Did you kill them?” you finally asked after bouts of hesitation.

He switched off the stove and turned around, placing the pan onto a mat on the island, his eyes meeting yours in that signature chilling precision, “you mean am I the actual town’s serial killer?” he stretched his hands against the marble island, brows raised expectantly, gaze locked onto yours, “what do you think?”

You stared back into his eyes, scanning his face for any microchange in expressions that could've served as a hint. "No," you answered.

“That’s surprising,” he leaned back, arms folded, “thought you think of me as the big bad wolf?”

“I used to think you might have something to do with it,” you muttered honestly, “but I no longer think it has to do with the killing. Probably more on the covering up.”

He turned his attention back to the stove, attending the sauce that he had already started cooking earlier, “You’re correct. I didn’t kill any of them.”

“Was it Jungwon?”

“He was responsible for a couple of them,” he muttered without looking at you, “but it was a combination of other stray vampires too – the ‘unnaturals’ we call them. They are human-turned vampires – which has been alarmingly on the rise in this town over the past few years. There aren’t really any good reason to turn human into vampires unless you’re psychotic because ‘unnaturals’ are hard to control as you need to keep them constantly guided, trained and supervised – without which they'd just run amok, turning into a bloodthirsty fiend that pose risks to both humans, and us alike, risking our exposure.”

“So you covered the murders?”

You could see him nodding briefly as he turned around, plating the food neatly onto a plate, “since we are the official pure bloods currently residing in this town – the council of elders sought our help both to maintain order and catch the culprit.”

“So you're doing something good in a sense?” you raised your brows, “but still, you did bite the head cheerleader and Jungwon.”

“And you, too,” he added nonchalantly as he placed the meal he had cooked up in front of you, “Well I never said I was a good guy in the first place. We still need blood to live – we usually could substitute it for animal blood or bagged blood but blood from a living human is different. It’s far superior in taste, satiety and nutrients if you will. So preying on human for blood was never really banned for us vampires but it has to be done responsibly. If accidents happen, we must also ensure that they are taken care of. Though it should be avoided because too many accidents would definitely reach the ears of the councils.”

“Hence why the head cheerleader, Jungwon and you,” he emphasized, “still lives. Though unfortunately Jungwon got picked up by another pure blood, that we didn't roamed around, as I left him unattended while he passed out. This might have been the same pure blood who had been stirring chaos around town too.”

“Then why is it that you keep coming back for me and not leave me alone like the cheerleader or Jungwon?” you asked boldly.

“Because you're so vexing,” he muttered back, deadpanned.

“Then you should’ve killed me the first time you had bitten onto me,” you shot back.

"You’re not wrong, that was indeed my biggest mistake".

Your blood definitely fitted his palate so well – something that was rare for someone so picky like him. But more than that, there was something about you that had completely dumbfounded him. He found that the more he drink your blood, the hungrier he became but instead of fully descending down the animalistic spiral as he usually would have, the more his consciousness re-emerged. This was the reason why he had always been able to stop himself from succumbing into a feeding frenzy with you. The hunger however would still be there, growing more entrenched by the second, burning him from within but the satiation of that apparently lied elsewhere: in your lips; in your skin; in your warmth – you.

Had he killed you in the first place, he could have saved himself all the troubles. He could have just ended it with fury and bitterness. But now he was in too deep.

“You had a couple of other chances too,” you continued prodding, “what’s stopping you?”

He sighed, swivelling your chair so you faced him, as he leaned down towards you, his hand on either side of you, “if something is delicious, it has to be savoured. That’s what I’m doing with you. It’s not often that someone comes along with blood that perfectly matches my picky palate.”

You scoffed, “then explain the kisses.”

“Well, the act of feeding is not really as innocent as the act of normal eating is it? Think about it,” he trailed his finger down your jawline, to your neck, “it’s my lips, on your neck. Then of course, there’s the proximity, the hands, the heat of our bodies – everything pretty much easily coalesce into lusts especially in the heat of delirium-“ his eyes begin to inadvertently flit from your eyes to your lips, the flicker of desire apparent.

Sure, he wasn’t lying but Sunghoon was no hormonal teenager who could easily be lulled with such desires and he knew it well. It takes a lot to incite something like that in him. But you don’t have to know that, he thought to himself.

You smacked his hand away. You didn’t expect him to say something sweet and mushy obviously but you would be lying if his words doesn’t sear. All the better, you tell yourself, reassuring that this way, you can stop feeling guilty or thankful to him beyond what is necessary. That you can just dampen any glimmer of thought that Sunghoon is different than what he present to be. “The deal was to offer my blood not to be your slvt,” you rolled your eyes as you swivelled your chair back towards the table, picking up the cutleries, "If I finish these, you’ll send me home immediately?”

He nodded, chin resting on his palm with his elbows propped against the table as he watched you, his lips curving unknowingly in such a gentle way as he watched you savour the food, your brows all knitted-up, your head nodding in satisfaction, “I take it that you like my cooking?”

“Only because I’m starving,” you grumbled, surprised at how hungry you actually were, finishing your meal faster than you usually would. You pushed the empty plates, staring back at him, “I’m full. Give me the clothes you promised me and send me home now.”

“Of course,” he gestured, fishing out his phone. Suddenly, an older man in dark suit and slicked-back hair entered the kitchen, carrying paper bags from luxurious brands. “They’re all yours, change into whichever you like. You can find me in the living room once you’re done.”

“These-“ you panicked, looking at the tags, each having more digits than you could ever afford, “I can’t accept all of them – they cost a fortune!”

“they cost nothing to me,” he shrugged, “treat it as a gift or something. You had, after all been, rather satisfactory.”

You scoffed, his choice of words always so offensive and searing. Begrudgingly you trudged up to the washroom, changing into the plainest one you could find out of the bunch – a simple ivory ruffle satin blouse from Hermes. You re-emerged from the washroom, dumping the bags in front of him, “I don’t want any of it. And this-“ you gestured to the blouse you were wearing, “I’ll repay you.”

“You’re always so stubborn, it’s just a token of appreciation,” he shrugged, rising up, guiding you through a series of corridors towards the main entrance.

“What we had was a deal,” you emphasized, “there is no need for any sort of appreciation there. It’s purely transactional.”

“You’re always so cold,” he muttered, opening the door of his G-Wagon for you, “and I’m insufferable – we’re perfect for each other.”

You glared at him as you entered his car, grabbing onto the door to close it before he could even close it for you.

If it was up to him, he wouldn't send you home at all. He would just continue to spin the web around you, keep you close with him, lock you inside with him. But he knew not to push buttons too far. He had plenty of time.

He had forever.

— ix.

Days turned to weeks then turned to months, and true to his words, Sunghoon really never let your deal nor you go. Being the insufferable prick he is however, he took to snatching you away out of the blue while you were in the campus corridors, into an empty class room, empty closet, empty toilet, dark and desolated library corners , you name it, just to feed on you in the most thrilling way.

“Blood tends to taste better when hearts race. How else can I do that than to take you by surprise?” he grinned slyly as he pushed you against the wall, completely unbothered that someone could have always walked in on you both. With eyes that had rapidly lightened to golden and canines erupting into full fangs, his hands would always be so swift and adept, already unbuttoning your top buttons or sometimes, tugging your shirt down your shoulders impatiently while the other hand seized your head like talons – as if he hadn’t already pinned you up against a surface with his massive frame.

While the prickle of pain that followed no longer made you jump nor flinch, you could never get used to the act of him sucking your blood through your neck. With fear and dread now subsiding, the intimacy of the act, like he had said before, was now too discernible to ignore: his soft lips on your neck, the way his hands and fingers roamed and gripped you, the way his head bob against the crook of your neck, the way his body was pressed up against you, and of course, the gaze as he pulled away – a gaze with smouldering intensity which never failed to make your heart race. It’s just transactional, you would tell yourself, you’re nothing but a bloodbag y/n, you reassured yourself.

Except you didn’t know how much longer you could tell yourself that especially after you bumped into Heeseung one day in one of the empty corridors. His eyes trained on the fresh puncture wounds on your neck, “I hope he’s not overdoing it.”

Your hand immediately flew to your neck, covering it – as if it was some sort of a hickey to be shameful about. You gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement before brushing past him though he grabbed your wrist mid-way with a grip that felt like iron – a stark contrast with the gentle and amiable image he was well-known for. But then again, you reminded yourself, he’s a vampire just like Sunghoon – it might all just be a façade.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he reassured, letting your hand go, “I just need a quick word.”

“Then be quick,” you relented, folding your arms defensively, maintaining a certain distance.

“I don’t how far you have gone with Sunghoon but let me tell you, you guys may be perfect for each other in a complementary way but,” he hesitated, “it could also coalesce perfectly into toxicity.”

"You've got it all wrong," you corrected, "we haven’t 'gone' anywhere. And we won’t. There is no way I would develop feelings for him and there is no way he would develop feelings for me when he could have anyone with the snap of a finger. Whatever we have, it’s completely transactional. So don’t worry about it.”

“It's you who I am worried for,” he sighed, eyes softening in such a way that conveyed genuine worry, “I can assure you that the fact that you went this far with him – breaking almost every guard he has and bending him in ways he had never allowed, meant something. I can’t speak for him but I’ve known him for decades to know a breach when there is one."

“That being said, obsession driven by attraction can be just as dangerous as contempt,” he continued as he fished out a crystal vial which was filled with dark red liquid, “it doesn’t matter if you like him back or not – if he wants you, he’ll make sure he’ll own you and the moment he feels like he’s losing you, his claws will just tighten.”

Suddenly he offered the vial towards you, “here's a chance for you to cut yourself from him.”

You eyed it suspiciously, "Is it poison? Are you asking me to poison him?”

“Don’t be silly. It’s kind of like a tranquiliser for us,” he beckoned you to take it, “it’s time for us to move away but he had been adamant in sticking around. I can’t let that happen but at the same time he’s too strong and too stubborn to listen,” he sighed, “so if you feel that there is any truth in what I have said, feed him this – however you see fit. It’s potent so just a drop is enough to incapacitate him momentarily. I’ll know when it works so I’ll quickly go to you when that happens and take him away."

You reluctantly took it from his hand, “and if I don’t?"

“Then I can’t save you anymore,” he mustered a weak smile.

"Why would you help me? He's your friend," you questioned.

"Exactly because he's my friend," he muttered despondently, "you both are poison to one another. Ive been through such tragedy once, I'm not letting him go through it."

You remembered tossing and turning that very night as Heeseung’s words replay in your mind incessantly like a broken record. Even when you’ve chucked the vial in the deepest corner of your drawer, under a bunch of other stuffs, you still can’t help but think of it.

Eventually, you rose up from your bed, reluctantly opening the drawer where the vial had been hidden away. Hugging your knees close to your chest, you held the vial in your hand up against night light.

Back then, you would have killed for this chance to rid of him. Yet now that the chance is right in your hand, you find yourself hesitating, thinking of reasons why you shouldn't instead.

— x.

Eventually you’ve reached the end of your academic year – all your hard work, labouring in the library and burning the midnight oil, culminated in distinctions. Not even waiting until graduation, you soon fell into another set of routine, from part-timing; volunteering to job-searching – already eager to start the next part of your life. This in turn had also limited the amount of times you bump into Sunghoon which was ideal, you thought, though he had now taken to appearing at your balcony at odd hours once or twice a month.

Like a loan shark, he just never missed asking for his due.

“Why can’t you drop by during day time or something?” you grumbled lethargically as you opened your balcony door at 3AM, "suddenly sensitive to sunlight are you?"

“You’re busy in the daytime,” he said as a matter-of-factly, closing the door behind him as if it was already a routine, “unless you want me to crash your part-time or volunteering places-“

“Okay, okay, I get it. Funny how capable you are of being considerate,” you sighed, gesturing him over, “let’s get it done with, it’s late.”

You don’t know if the new night routine was skewing your perception or if Heeseung’s words had started to sow seeds in your mind unwittingly but it was becoming alarmingly apparent to you how with every bite, everything felt less transactional from Sunghoon’s side. From the gentler touches; the possessive grasps; and the gaze that lingered longer – conveying more than the usual hunger within. Tonight, too, it felt all the more apparent as you flinched, suddenly feeling his cold tongue slid over your puncture wounds, catching the blood that trailed down.

“I told you not to do that,” you protested, edging your face slightly away from him, meeting his eyes that stared back with such smouldering intensity that it was making your heart flip.

“What if I want to?” he asked, face completely impassive, but gaze darkening by the second. You swallowed thickly as you stared back into those eyes while leaning back slowly, as if trying to probe the depth of his mind and test if there was any grain of truth to Heeseung’s words. He followed suit, face charging slowly towards you, as if chasing yours – his hands never leaving your waists and his gaze locking with yours yours in a gaze that was so electrifying.

You could have recoiled, you could have jerked away, you could have turned, you could have pushed him – but almost as if drawn by the gravity that seemingly existed between you and him, you just backed away slowly, eyes locked with his. You feel his hips pressing onto you as your back hit the countertop, giving you no more chance to back away. Face now only inches away from you with gaze that was so electric with desires, you can feel his breath hot against your lips and his body warm against yours – the warmth of which you didn’t expect from him, given how he was usually cold to the touch.

Again, you could have turned away. But you didn’t. Instead you let him draw nearer, his lips now ghosting over yours, his hand tracing the curvature of your spine, fingers folding protectively as it slid over the side of your ribs – the air crackling with electricity, with tension that is so palpable, it could have cut. If it was just primal desires on his side, he should have no problem breaking the tension by forcing a kiss on you – something he had done before. If it was just complete vehemence on your side, you should have shoved him away – something you had always done before too. But instead, you two just let yourselves bask in the moment of utter hesitance – just one move away from breaking the tension that warped the air and letting it all crumble.

His eyes flitted from your eyes to your lips, prompting you to do the same – the gaze from both of which was just oozing in repressed desires and bottled emotions. As if mirroring the restraint that was hanging by the last thread, his fingers had begun to dug painfully into your ribs and you had begun to tightly clench a fistful of his shirt.

You could see it then, in the depths of his searing gaze, that the flicker of desire, was catching flames. “No—” you weakly mustered, turning away just a fraction of seconds after he leaned in, evading the capture of his lips. You feel his breathing hot and laboured against your jaw, where he stayed rooted instead. You squeezed your eyes shut, disappointed at yourself for almost succumbing, "leave," was all you could managed as you pushed him weakly.

Perplexingly, and rather fortunately, he complied, weakly prying himself away from you though in such an agonisingly slow pace. “—now,” you insisted, daring to look back into his eyes – which was surprisingly gentle and pensive this time. You knew then, he was cracking.

You brushed past him, leaving your room, feeling nauseated as you wondered, if you had cracked too?

By the time you returned to your room, it was already empty though the tension from before still hung in the air, proceeding to haunt you for the remainder of the night over why and what could have been.

— xi.

Perhaps he had gotten bored of you. Perhaps the realisation that something was budding beyond normalcy was hitting his pride badly that he needed to step back. Perhaps, he had really moved abroad with Heeseung like what Heeseung had planned. Whatever it was, you hadn’t seen him since that evening – something you were of course, grateful for.

Sometimes, you feel his presence in the crowd and in the shadows as you go about your way, volunteering, working part-time, interviewing and so on – but he was never there. Just your imagination and skewed intuition. Tonight too as you attended the graduation after-party, you thought you saw his face in the midst of the crowd; his presence in the shadows; and his voice amidst the cacophony of noise. But again, you were wrong and you chalked it all up to exhaustion.

Eventually you slip away to the balcony, trying to find a momentary respite as your head had begun to splinter from all the socializing.

“Want me to take you away?”

You jumped, your train of thoughts came crashing.

Speak of the devil, you thought to yourself as you exhaled sharply, startled, at the sight of Sunghoon leaning against the door frame.

“You look bored,” he continued, letting himself in and closing the door behind him to shield you two away from any prying eyes, “of course you are, you hate crowds and you hate celebration”.

“You missed graduation,” was all you could muster.

“We’ve graduated countless of times so it means nothing to us,” he shrugged.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because you’re here,” he replied very quickly with no taunting smirk, unlike usual.

You sighed as you leaned back against the bannister, turning your head sideway and baring your neck, “don’t take too much, we’re in public.”

He scoffed, “that’s touching and all but I’m not a monster. You’re not just a bloodbag to me.”

You abruptly turned your head towards him, brows furrowed, "but I’m just supposed to be a blood bag to you.”

“that’s not for you to dictate.”

Suddenly, you heard a piercing scream from inside. You rushed towards the door, seeing the crowd clamouring over Nicholas who had been carried on a stretcher. Nicholas was the guy you had gotten close with over the past few weeks since you two had started interning together. You immediately rushed towards the door, about to re-enter the hall when Sunghoon stopped you, his grip over your wrist felt almost like iron, "he’s not dead yet. Just fainted.”

You looked at him in horror, “what do you mea- did you do this?”

“You probably didn’t realise it but he had underlying intentions towards you,” he muttered flatly, his grip unrelenting, “he spiked your drink.”

“He- what?” you stopped protesting, reminded of the way both Sunoo and even Ni-Ki had warned you against him, though you didn’t pay too much attention to it since he had always been so nice with you, “but that doesn’t- that doesn’t mean you have to take it in your hands and incapacitate him.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” he rolled his eyes, “I didn’t drink a lot. I just exert certain pressure on his hand and neck to make him pass out. After hurling a bunch of threats to him, that is.”

"You really need to be careful with who you interact with," he cautioned, "human are very easy. They catch feelings very easily."

It suddenly dawned on you horrifyingly that perhaps your intuition had been right. That it had always been him, in the crowd and in the shadows, always closely following and watching. Heeseung’s words begin to flood your mind.

"Obsession driven by attraction is just as dangerous as contempt". "It doesn’t matter if you like him back or not – if he wants you, he’ll make sure he’ll own you and the moment he feels like he’s losing you, his claws will just tighten".

"Euijoo, from my part-time job-" you asked, voice shaky as you were reminded of how he had suddenly submitted his resignation letter without bidding you goodbye just a day after he confessed to you, "was that your doing too?"

"You've always hated receiving confessions and the guilt in your face throughout the whole night was pretty telling of it," he quipped, "I was just doing you a favour no? I didn't bite him though. Just told him off and offer him money. You can still find him in the bookstore near the mall, alive and annoyingly cheery as usual."

You looked at him, completely aghast. Realizing the truth a tad bit too late. Of how you are completely entrapped within his claws with other people being wrought in it as well.

He scoffed, looking hurt, “Why are you staring at me like that? I was only looking out for you – in both instances,” he tugged onto your arm, pulling you into an embrace that gradually tightened in a way snake constricts its prey, "can’t you see? the length I go for you.”

You wanted to push him off but almost like a muscle memory, it gave up after a few attempts, unwittingly melting into his embrace in defeat as the guilt filled you and the dread hounded you.

“Let’s head home,” he murmured softly into your hair.

Obviously you wanted nothing to do with him anymore tonight but you knew him – you knew that look in his eyes, you knew that grip around your hand, so you just obliged, excusing yourself to the restroom for a bit to collect yourself. He nodded, giving you a brief smile, “don’t run away okay?”

It was such a harmless sentence delivered in the gentlest way and yet, you could feel the way it’s laced almost like a threat.

The ride back home was mostly silent, your mind racing with a billion thoughts. He walked you up to your door silently. As you turned your doorknob, you muttered, “I’m moving in a few days.”

“I heard,” he replied almost instantaneously, “you landed a job at one of the big-3 right?”

You turned around, mustering the courage, “what would happen to our deal?”

“What about it? I’ve secured the unit next to yours,” he replied so nonchalantly, “it would be as if nothing had changed.”

“you what? But how–" Your brows knit in dismay. Only Sunoo knew about you getting the job and moving so for Sunghoon to have not just known the news but have also secured the unit next to yours was filling you with so much terror.

“You know me, what I want, I get.”

Heeseung's words rang in your mind deafeningly again.

He furrowed his brows, “what? You didn’t expect the deal to just end like that did you?” He scoffed, taking steps towards you, his footsteps echoed ominously in the hallway, “it won’t. I won’t let it.”

“Sunghoon, back off-“ you warned as you backed away into your home, swiftly about to close the door on him but he was faster as he wedged his shoe in between, pushing the door open, letting himself in, "you won't ever escape me y/n, I own you – that permanent mark on your neck should serve as a constant reminder for you."

Sunghoon didn't know why he was all riled up – perhaps it's the look of terror in your eyes. After all he had done for you, all the patience and considerations he had also imparted to you – what he got back was instead a look of fear. And he thought you guys were making good progress over the past few months, despite some hiccups now and then.

“Sunghoon, I am not yours and I will never be so you have no righ-“

He tugged your hand, slamming you against the door, not letting you finish your sentence at all. You shuddered as you looked up into his eyes – the steeliness of which you hadn't seen in a while that you forgot just how intimidating and paralyzing it was.

“you said it yourself, it’s all primal desires," you protested, writhing under his grasps.

“Haven’t I shown you enough? Displayed enough patience, enough consideration and enough restraint? Are those not enough as indication?” he asked, the disappointment so evident in the strain of his voice and weight of his stare.

“It’s all just obsession, you’re mistaking it,” you argued.

He scoffed, his eyes suddenly golden, his hand cradling the back of your head, “why don’t we see who’s mistaking what?”

You wedged a hand, palming him by the chest, “Sunghoon-“ your eyes were almost pleading but he was already seeing red – blinded by obsession, clouded by anger – as he crushed your body against his, claiming your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue soon pried your lips apart, deepening his kiss so desperately and hungrily, in a way that you could feel all the emotions he had bottled and repressed for you – from the anger, the bitterness, the yearning and the longing. You tried to shove him away, knowing very well you were of no match against him – not when he was completely overtaken by his his desires and impulses.

Suddenly he pulled away, his eyes staring back at you in alarm. By the time he realized something was wrong, it was far too late, as he teetered backwards unwittingly, knocking vases and books over, before he collapsed to the floor, breathing becoming more laborued. His face soon contorted in to a mixture of fury and hurt as he stared back at you, “you-“

Your legs buckled under you as you stared weakly at him, your eyes somehow misty as you watched him struggle. When you used the washroom earlier, you had mixed the red liquid from the vial that Heeseung had given you, with your lipstick – remembering how he said it won’t have an effect on human and that that it was so potent on vampires that even a drop would've sufficed. You then proceeded to apply it on your lips, your gut feelings telling you that you might need it tonight. As your gut feelings had told you, you indeed needed it.

A dark figure suddenly materialised behind Sunghoon – it was Heeseung, looking forlornly at the way Sunghoon was all hunched up over the floor, coughing, feeling his strength dissipating by the second despite his efforts. He glowered with every muscle he had left in his face, at Heeseung who was holding him by his arm, then to you. Locked to your eyes, his gaze hardened, almost that with utter fury though his misty eyes conveyed otherwise. Heeseung gave you a brief appreciative nod, before he wrapped his cloak over Sunghoon, both vanishing into thin air within split seconds after.

You should be elated that the bane of your existence was now gone, probably for eternity, but a tear soon rolled down your cheeks. Though you couldn’t tell, nor do you want to, if it was simply out of guilt, sadness or regret.

A/N: Hello everyone! If you've reached here then thank you so much for presevering through this massive chapter (and I -oop 💀) I hope it has been an interesting ride and thank you for sticking by and showing so much interest for this series. This particular chapter went through massive overhaul multiple times lol but thank goodness Dark Blood came in just in time to give me a new burst of energy and motivation wheee If you saw my previous post and had been waiting for it, I apologise for the delay huhuu I got stuck in some parts 💀 Ps. If you enjoy this, shower it with some love by leaving me some comments on it hehe I dont bite 🙆🏻‍♀️

#enhypen vampire #enhypen imagines #enhypenwriters #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon imagines #park sunghoon #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon vampire #kpop imagines #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen sunghoon scenarios #kpop scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen x female reader #enhypen vampire au

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blindmagdalena · 5 months ago

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thoughts on ep 4?

ohhhh man this is gonna be really long and disjointed because i just finished the episode. i'm just gonna be focused on the homelander stuff here bc i feel like that's what we're all here for lol

the energy he brought to that whole situation gave me the most intense anxiety. i feel like not even he was entirely sure how all of that was going to go down, but as soon as he was there, all these memories that he had repressed started flooding to the surface. obviously his relationship with Ryan is causing a lot of his trauma to come to the forefront, and this is the culmination of that.

i think what caught me the most off guard was how run down the place looked. a concrete basement with shoddy computers and post-its everywhere. a bunch of techs. it was so small, and yet it's like homelander said. it was a lot bigger when he was a child.

it was their day job. it was his whole world.

that very first moment when Marty calls him John, and he corrects "Homelander," in that boyish voice, i almost burst into tears.

the moment where he's staring at the incinerator made me feel ill for him. i already knew what was coming, and it didn't disappoint.

"I had nightmares about that exact moment, and you can't even remember it."

i had chills throughout this entire scene. it was such a succinct way to lay out how dehumanized he was his entire life. that so many people stood by and were so desensitized to his torture. they tuned out his screams entirely and played little games to pass the time. all while he watched.

this time, when Marty calls him John, there's no quiver in his voice. "Homelander," he corrects firmly, smile tight and closed. direct eye contact, waiting for a challenge. but they won't. he knows no one will stop him. not just because they can't... but because they simply won't. they wouldn't save a child. why would they save Frank?

"You're sorry? Now?"

this whole scene is such an interesting parallel to his conversation with Vogelbaum in s1, where he asks, "You want forgiveness? Now?"

something he rightfully denied Vogelbaum. in this instance, however, we see Homelander enacting his vengeance and giving that forgiveness... but only once they're dead. only once they'd paid his price. once they've suffered as he did. I forgive you.

the only time anyone expresses remorse for what they've done to him is when they're faced with it. when the regret eats away at them not for the harm they caused, but the damage done to the world, or to their own safety.

immediately following that, we see him call Marty over and not just apologize, but very specifically he asks, "Can you forgive me?"

it's perfect foreshadowing for what he's about to do to him. can he forgive the same thing Homelander is about to?

the scene that follows is so profoundly uncomfortable i had a lot of trouble watching. the reality of Homelander's life and teenage years is something that we as a fandom have always been very cognizant of, but seeing it addressed so plainly on screen was both nightmarish and vindicating.

i remember being really squicked out by his comment regarding Ryan getting Zoe pregnant, but it makes total sense that raising Ryan is bringing a lot of his own childhood sexual trauma to the surface. there's SO MUCH to be addressed here that it could be it's own post. but what's great is when Homelander calls an end to it: it's the moment Marty says he's sorry.

"I forgive you, Marty."

this is all about Homelander accepting what happened to him. facing it and the people who were part of it head on.

speaking of...

BARBARA. i know she's public enemy #1 right now, and rightfully so, but i found her so profoundly interesting. did she know Homelander was there? she didn't seem surprised at all. why would she come without backup? how did they even contact her with everything shut down? i don't know, but whatever the case, i really got the impression she already knew what she was walking into. she made a real attempt to get Homelander away from the other scientists, but he wasn't going to be swayed. they were already doomed.

she antagonized him. They were just doing what I told them. It's not their fault. It's mine. Leave them alone.

it's very apparent to me that among his fractured personalities, she represents the kinder motherly one. she, like Stan Edgar and Vogelbaum, are elevated above the other scientists. she's a figure of authority and she spoke to him as such.

"They were scared."

"I was a child."

"They were scared!"

and he does recoil at that. we KNOW Homelander hates being feared. it was his trigger with Madelyn, it's what kept him from lasering that crowd, and it's a blatant, desperate lie when he says to Starlight, "...being feared is a-one okie doke by me."

"Everyone was terrified of you from your first breath."

she breaks his heart a hundred times in this scene. from the reveal that he killed his mother in the same way Vogelbaum told him his son did—the source of that lie?—to the statement that their greatest success was making him obedient by withholding love. by turning his heart into a pit of need.

a sharp juxtaposition to Vogelbaum's You're my greatest failure.

and then she says to him no matter what you do, you will always be human.

here's the thing about Homelander's humanity. he doesn't associate it with kindness or love. he associates humanity with all the worst things that have ever happened to him. cruelty. selfishness. betrayal. his entire life he's been used and abused by the people who were supposed to protect him.

of course he doesn't want to be human. doesn't want his SON to be human. look at what humans have done to him. they're vile, they're vicious, they're dirty.

in another life, that desire could have been his drive to be good. if he'd only had a single fucking example of it.

"I'm not human. And neither is my son. And I'm gonna raise him so that he knows it."

in other words, he'll raise his son the way they failed to raise him. Homelander wants desperately to raise his son with the love he never had. he just doesn't know how to.

ultimately, like Vogelbaum and Stan, Homelander can't bring himself to kill her. he tears apart the people she tried to save, and he leaves her to stew in her own fucking mess.

#sorry this is really long and it's basically just a messy play by play of all his lab scenes #i have a lot of thoughts i still need to process #it was a LOTTTT #also... so much fic i need to write...#darling anon #ask and you shall receive #homelander headcanons #homelander meta #homelander #the boys spoilers

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tmmyhug · 9 months ago

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ok here is a disjointed jumble of thoughts. it’s taken me a couple days to come to terms with the situation. but i will no longer be supporting wilbur. besides the numerous obvious hints shelby dropped, if it wasn’t him, she would have said something by now to prevent false accusations. believing it was wilbur is not baseless speculation as much as it is critical thinking about what shelby could and couldn’t say.

it’s not like i really watched him anymore in the first place so not much will change here. it still hurts a lot. i wish i could feel angry. instead im just incredibly sad. for shelby, for other abuse victims who thought they could trust him, for all of his fans who looked up to him.

remember that there is no way we could have known. anyone who says they would have/could tell has a moral superiority complex. there is no secret code to identifying who is a good vs bad person because there is no such thing as a solely “good” or “bad” person. we saw wilbur do lots of good things over the last few years. that’s we why we trusted him. that doesn’t negate the bad things he has also done.

tommy and phil’s reactions remain to be seen. if they do anything. i will probably still reblog fanart but it’ll be focused on smp characters and not ccs.

i also want to say: please don’t let this man ruin dsmp for you. the characters and story, especially from early on, are hugely important to people and if we have to rip them from the creators’ dead hands so be it. forget the authors. we made the fandom. we enabled the story. we made it good. our creativity, our passion, our love and excitement and joy were and are the core of what makes dsmp good. nothing can change that.

#vees train of thought #abuse

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years ago

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The Night We Met | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Would you like to be sad? Great!

This literally consumed me last night, I could not stop working on it.

Warnings: blood, reader injuries, anxiety / panic attack, guilt, hella angst

Bucky appeared behind you in the bathroom mirror, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. One moment, you were alone- and the next, his stormy eyes burned into yours. He moved so silently through the apartment you shared, his winter soldier training rendering his footsteps imperceptible. He stood stone still in the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, a large file-folder in hand. Something about him was off, sharply disjointed. His breath was erratic and labored. His jaw tense.

“Bucky, baby…” you turned to face him, abandoning your make up. “Is everything okay?”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He was angry- or maybe he was heartbroken. He wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that a violent swirling of unidentifiable, painful emotions tore through his chest time and time again. He almost couldn’t breathe.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He forced the words out. They were cold. Sharp. He didn’t elaborate or give context. Just stared at you, despondent. Gutted.

You quickly rose from your seat in front of the vanity, “Tell you what?” You took his free hand in yours, “What are you talking about?”

He extended the folder in your direction, motioning for you to take it. But you didn’t. You didn’t have to. An incident report number sat listed on the outside of the folder- you’d recognize that number anywhere.

The world around you seemed to spin ever faster as the silent moments passed. The file shook in your trembling hand, it’s massive pile of papers nearly falling to the floor. “I can- I can explain, Buck…” Your breath was sharp, shallow. “Just come here. Come sit with me, okay?” You tried your best to tug him toward the bed, but he resisted. He remained rooted in place- either unwilling or unable to move with you.

“Buck, I’m sorry- I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you. Ever. But I didn’t wanna upset you and…” Your voice wavered. Tears welled in your eyes. They made tracks down your cheeks, ruining your freshly applied foundation. “And I’m sorry. I should’ve been honest. I just didn’t know how to tell you. And then it was too late. I’d waited too long. And I didn’t-”

Bucky held up a hand, silencing you. “I don’t understand…” he said after a long, painfully silent moment. “You met me before you met me…” The shame was almost unbearable- he feared he might drown in it. “But you still wanted to be with me?”

You nodded.

“How? How- how did you overlook who I was?” His words came out frantic, panicked. “And why? It doesn’t- it doesn’t make any sense. I mean, I don’t know what happened-” He took the file from your hand and gave it another once over, “it says you redacted almost every detail- every detail of what I did. But here- right here…” He pointed to one of the only sentences not marked out with thick, black lines. “Look at that.”

You eyed the large, black, block letters, the letters you’d seen a hundred times before:

Agent 1209 suffered nearly fatal injuries.

J.B. Barnes AKA “the Winter Soldier” responsible.

He wasn’t mad- or maybe he was. But not for the reason you thought.

Tension weighed down the air around you. Bucky stared down at the words on the page, reading and rereading them until he thought he might be sick.

“Buck… can you talk to me?”

His voice came out quiet, strained. He struggled for air. But eventually he found the strength to utter one sentence, “I almost killed you.”

The file slipped from his hands. Papers floated to the floor and formed a pile at your feet, the thick, black lines staring up at you from the carpet. And then Bucky’s knees buckled. He sunk to the ground, creasing and crumpling the papers and their redacted words.

You met Bucky on the floor in an instant, taking his face in your hands. You knew him well enough by now to know what came next. And though you couldn’t stop the impending panic attack that loomed on the horizon, you could at least help him through it.

“Can you look at me, Buck? Can you focus on me?” You swept your thumbs over his cheeks slowly, gently, until he finally met your gaze. “Hey, that’s great. Now stay here with me, okay? Stay right here with me, baby.”

Bucky thought he might die. His heart punched against his rib cage, his blood roared in his ears. Dread and panic sat on his chest like cinderblocks, weighing him down. He couldn’t find it in him to make his lungs expand. Beads of sweat formed across his forehead; his mouth ran dry. This was it for him.

“You’re gonna breathe with me, Buck. Just like we always do.”

But he simply shook his head.

“Yes- yes, you can, baby. I know you can.”

And though it seemed impossible, Bucky kept tempo with you. He breathed when you told him to, exhaled on cue. You whispered praises and assurances between breaths. And finally, the color returned to his cheeks. His chest no longer burned from lack of oxygen. And the shaking in his hands slowed- it didn’t disappear completely, but this was a start.

“Okay, let’s talk,” you said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Come here- come sit with me.” With a gentle tug, you brought him closer. He matched your stance, his back resting against the bed. He kept a hand in yours, too scared to let go. But deep down, he knew he shouldn’t be allowed to touch you.

“Tell me what happened- please, tell me what I did…” he said. “I need to know.”

This couldn’t end well. You knew it. You knew he’d hear your story and immediately implode, collapsing in on himself like a dying star. It seemed like the epitome of a bad idea. A disaster waiting to happen.

“Please.”

But you owed him the truth.

“Okay, um…” You swore to take this story to your grave, to let it die with you. No one- especially not Bucky- needed to know what happened that night. But the desperation in his voice, the pleading in his eyes, won you over. “It was around the time of Project Insight. There was that fight on the bridge- the one with you, Steve, Nat and Sam.”

Bucky nodded.

“And Hill knew it was gonna get ugly at the Triskelion. Shit was about to hit the fan- she knew lives would be lost. And so, she sent some of us- agents who she knew for sure weren’t Hydra- to secure locations. I ended up in a house near the outside of the city.”

Bucky’s grip on your hand increased in pressure. He found himself on the edge of his seat, as though he were watching a stressful movie. Only, it wasn’t a movie. This was his life- your life. And he knew he was about to have his heart shattered. Irreparably so.

“I was there with a few other agents, people I’d worked with for a while. We’d only been there a few hours when I woke up to this… this sound.” The memory made you shudder. You shut your eyes and shook your head, forcing the images to dissipate. But the sound still reverberated inside your skull. “I went to go check it out and I found one of my fellow agents. She was um, she was on the ground. Her throat slit. She was still alive but making this- this gurgling sound. She was choking. Aspirating on her own blood.”

You wiped a stray tear from your cheek as you thought back on your coworker. Your fellow agent. Your friend. Alana. She was smart. Strong. Funny. You liked her, trusted her. And you watched her die.

“And I got caught up with her, you know? I couldn’t save her, but I couldn’t just leave her there. I couldn’t let her die alone. So, I sat with her until she stopped, um…” you cleared your throat. “Anyway, it was the right thing to do. But not the smart thing. Cause I was a sitting duck. I was an easy target. I should’ve made it my mission to find the others. I should’ve gotten out of the house. I should’ve called for backup or pulled my gun. But I didn’t.”

Bucky wanted to hide. He wanted to run away and never come back. He couldn’t believe he’d saddled you with such trauma. Such pain and anguish. When the two of you met, he fell for you instantly. He promised himself that he’d treat you with only love. Gentle hands and kind words. He’d never hurt you, never make you cry. He just didn’t realize he’d broken that promise before he even made it.

“But by the time I realized that I needed to move, it was too late.” You took pause. Reliving this memory wasn’t your favorite past time, but telling Bucky seemed like the very worst possible option. He was going to hate himself for this. He was going to spend the rest of his life punishing himself, self-flagellating until he died.

“Tell me,” he almost begged. “I need to know.”

You turned to him, eyes glassy with tears. “Why, Buck? Why do I have to tell you?” Your voice broke, “I know how you’re going to react. I know you’re gonna feel terrible. You’re gonna hate yourself and treat yourself like shit. Why do you want to know?”

“I have to.” His voice was even, firm. “I have to experience my own memories vicariously through other people- through the eyes of those I hurt. I have to feel what they felt… because I couldn’t feel anything.”

You brought a shaking hand to his face, cupping his cheek. He was so good. So sweet and thoughtful and kind. He didn’t deserve any of this.

“That’s why I have this file, doll. I have a lot of them. I need to know everything I did.”

You nodded. You could never know what his experience was like. You’d never understand how it felt to have decades of memories missing from your mind. Ripped from you. Erased. And though it seemed like a terrible idea to divulge the details of what happened that day, you obliged Bucky’s request.

You started slow, “I was sitting there with her, and something hit me in the head. It made me dizzy. And then there was a hand in my hair.”

Bucky grimaced.

“My hair was in this person’s fist, and I got dragged down the hall. I’m honestly surprised I don’t have a bald spot.” Bucky didn’t laugh at your joke. “Um, anyway, I didn’t feel my head hit the tile, but it did. Hard, apparently. The pain was delayed for some reason. It hit me a moment or two later. And then everything kind of went red? And I didn’t know what was going on. It took me kind of a long time to realize that I was bleeding- that I had blood in my eyes.”

Bucky rubbed a sleeve across his face, soaking up the tears that welled in his eyes.

“I fought back. The med team said I had a lot of defensive wounds.” You eyed the scars littering your hands and forearms. The scars you’d told Bucky resulted from cooking accidents, thorns, and cat scratches.

“And then I remember… I remember choking. I couldn’t breathe. Cause that um… that hand was around my neck. And there was a knife in my chest. My head was pounding, and my chest felt like it was on fire. This warm rush kind of coated my body- I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was blood. Everything was red still, but I remember these-” you didn’t want to say it. “These eyes. The bluest eyes I’d ever seen. And then I guess I blacked out.”

Bucky thought he might black out, too. Knowing that he’d treated you with such violence, such utter brutality ripped him to pieces. It carved through his flesh and bone, down into his very soul. He’d never forgive himself.

“I woke up, and I was still at the house. Still bleeding. One of my other agents was on the floor next to me- he was dead.” A burning sensation flared inside your nose as more tears formed. “But he always kept his phone on him- always. I had to rummage through his pockets to find it. It was weird- doing that to a, um, a dead person. A dead friend. But I used his phone it to call Hill. Next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital.”

Things fell silent and stayed that way for a long time. Bucky knew that if he broke down, you’d end up comforting him. And that simply wasn’t right. He didn’t deserve to be comforted, to have you treat him with kindness. Not after what he did to you.

But he couldn’t hold the emotion back any longer. It came at him with full force, throttling his insides. His hand shook in your grasp. His broken sobs filed the room. And though his voice was weak, you heard him muttering apologies.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, baby. I can’t- I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He nearly drowned in his remorse, in his guilt.

“Breathe, Buck. It’s okay…” you squeezed his hand and pressed kisses to his knuckles. “It’s all okay.”

The overwhelming urge to hold you eclipsed Bucky’s every thought. It was a deep-seeded need, a desperation. Feeling your warm body in his arms- your heartbeat, your breath fanning his skin- was all he needed. Holding you. Knowing that you were okay, that you were alive. It was the only cure for his heartbreak.

But he knew better. Who was he to hold you? To touch you with the same hands that once tried to end your life? It wasn’t right. He would’ve pulled his hand from yours if your grip weren’t so strong.

“Can you come here?” You gave his hand a small tug, “let me hold you for a while, okay?”

Bucky shook his head.

But you knew exactly what to say to get your way, “Please, baby? It would make me feel better.”

How could Bucky say no to that?

You laid down on the floor and pulled Bucky with you, positioning his body atop yours. His head rested on your chest, your arms curled around his body. And though you’d been the one to almost die by the Winter Soldier’s hand, it was Bucky who needed the comfort. Needed the love.

“You know I love you, right?” you asked as you held him tight. “You know that I trust you? That I’m not scared of you? I’ve never been scared- not of you.”

Bucky nodded. But tears still fell from his eyes, dampening your shirt.

“I trust you with my life, Buck. I love you- I’ll always love you. Nothing will ever change that.”

Bucky couldn’t comprehend your words. How could you love the person who killed your friends? The person who tried to kill you? The person who beat you, strangled you, stabbed you? It made no fucking sense- not to Bucky.

“Honestly, I’m just glad you’re not mad at me,” you said after a while. “I was really nervous there for a second- I thought I was gonna lose ya.” You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, finding comfort in the fact that Bucky wasn’t mad. That he still wanted you- even after you’d kept such a massive secret from him.

Bucky lifted his head. His desperate eyes met yours, “How could I- of course, I’m not mad at you.” After everything he’d done, you still worried that you were in the wrong. That you were the bad guy in this scenario. Bucky couldn’t understand it. “I’m just confused- I mean, why the hell aren’t you mad at me? Why- why do you trust me? Why are you even with me?”

Bucky’s words came out in a hurried scramble. And if you didn’t set him straight, he’d be lost yet again in a deep pit of despair. “Bucky, baby, that was one time. And it wasn’t your fault- you had no choice. You didn’t know what you were doing- you weren’t you.” It was simple to you. Straight-forward. Clear-cut. Obvious. “I could never hold a grudge against you for something you had no power over. ”

Bucky didn’t seem convinced.

“Plus, I went to therapy,” you laughed.

Bucky thought long and hard about what you said. God, you were so kind. So understanding. But he had stray thoughts. Questions. “But when we met again- after that- why were you so nice to me? Weren’t you nervous?”

You shrugged. “A little- but just because my subconscious was trying to protect me, you know? It was instinct- not something I felt. Just my nervous system trying to do its job.” Bucky’s eyes grew sad- sadder than before. “I knew I was okay, though,” you said, quelling his pain. “I knew you were safe. That you were a good person.”

He stared at you wide eyed, still in disbelief. You allowed him to be your friend. You spent every day with him, talking and laughing and bonding. You made his birthday special, you ensured he didn’t spend the holidays alone. And you immediately accepted when he asked you out.

“Thank you for giving me a second chance…”

“I didn’t see it as giving you a second chance- you didn’t need one. You didn’t need to redeem yourself,” you said. “I don’t hold it against you, Buck. I never have.”

He dragged his lips across the scar on your chest- the one you told him came from fighting Thanos’s army. “So, this… this is from me.” He ran his fingers over it a few times before running his hand down your arm. “And these,” he paused eyeing the myriad of scars littering your arms and hands, “these are from me, too.”

“They’re from that night, yes.”

Bucky took his time. He worked over your skin, treating each mark with care and attention. He kissed every scar and whispered his apologies. He was sorry for the pain he caused. The blood he spilled from you body. The nightmares he gave you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Buck. I was trying to protect you-”

“Don’t, baby. Don’t apologize,” he met your lips with his in a long, tender kiss. “I understand.”

You nodded.

“I’m sorry for what I did. I’m so sorry for hurting you.” He sighed, “never again.”

“You’re forgiven. You’ve been forgiven- for years, Buck.” You pressed a peck to his lips and shot him a smile, “Okay, now we’re both done apologizing. No more, or we’ll be here for the rest of time.”

Bucky laughed against your skin as he pressed another kiss to your scar. “Okay, deal. I love you.”

“I love you, Buck.”

The two of you laid there a bit longer, coming down from the pain and anxiety. You held him close; he littered your skin with kisses. You knew he’d live with the guilt forever. That he’d always keep your story in the back of his mind, allowing the pain to infect his psyche.

“And hey, just so you know,” you whispered, “I haven’t thought about that night once- not since we became friends.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve always seen you for who you are, Buck. Not who they made you out to be.”

Bucky felt his heart rate slow. His anxiety receded; his breathing evened out. And with you there by his side, he let go of the guilt. He let it slip through his fingers and fade away. He wasn’t going to let it take up valuable space in his soul, not when that space could be filled with your love.

———————————

Taglist: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo

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pikahlua · 4 months ago

Note

Not the same anon, but there was a thread on X summarizing problems with this chapter and how rushed it feels. I think these are pretty valid criticism if I am being honest. [link removed] I really love MHA and I want to enjoy this epilogue, but I really do feel like it is being rushed in some places.

I resubmitted this ask to remove the link. I'm not interested in sending critics flying at someone I disagree with.

The link you provided is for a criticism that is precisely the sort of commentary my blog exists to correct. Why are you guys judging the story based on a bad fan translation??? Is that really what the issue is here? If you're feeling like a chapter is rushed based on Rukasu's rushed summaries or my own disjointed, unnatural-sounding translations or the fan translations that just push along with awkward translations they clearly don't research that well, yeah, I bet it does seem pretty rushed.

Fan translation (left) vs official translation (right)

Some differences are stark and some subtle, but they all lead to totally different readings!

And as for this criticism:

And while I get what Horikoshi was trying to communicate here, the execution is just... Absolutely tone deaf

I don't understand how anyone could say something like they know what the author intended in good faith when they KNOW they're reading a fan translation.

Starting with the 1st page: now, I get Horikoshi is trying to this monologue more for the audience to highlight Uraraka's self sacrificial tendencies similar to Izuku in order to explain her behavior and showcase her flaws. [...] Because, in universe, Uraraka is breaking down with guilt and grief over someone she finally reached/understood sacrificing her life for her, something only SHE knows, and Izuku shows up, ignoring what's going on, and starts "explaining" her flaws and HIS feelings about it all. [...] Now, again, I understand that Hori is trying to communicate to the audience that Izuku has realized Uraraka's flaws and struggles and is deciding to become her support instead.

This reading completely ignores the fact that Ochako doesn't want to open up. Izuku is trying to convince her to! That's what's happening in this scene! He's not "ignoring" what happened with Toga--because he doesn't even know what happened! That's part of why Ochako is so upset!

I've explained before how the western fandom has a bad reading on these so-called self-sacrificial "flaws" Izuku and now ostensibly Ochako have. This is not the first time a character has realized they relied too much on another person's strength and let that person shoulder their burdens alone. All Might acknowledged the same thing with Katsuki after DvK2. I do not think what Izuku is doing here is "explaining her flaws and HIS feelings about it all." My reading of this scene is based on their conversation after she lost to Katsuki in the sports festival. He's saying the same stuff she said to him back to her. He's talking about HIS OWN flaws. He's saying "You are my hero, the way you've been since the beginning is heroic, I admire you, when you're hurting I'll protect you just like you protected me, I won't be a burden by relying on your strength to get you through and letting you handle your pain alone anymore, I'll pull my own weight and be here for you now that you need me, it will be easier to shoulder the pain together." That last part is coming from her UA speech, of course, and I don't know how it could be more relevant to addressing Ochako's pain. "Please open up to me, just like you encouraged me to do." That's what he's saying!

Now, the other criticism this person levies is that using Izuku as a vehicle of exposition is clunky. I don't disagree, but the thing is...this isn't new. This isn't unique to the ending. He's been like this really since chapter 1. I've criticized this before. This isn't a sudden change that makes the ending feel any more rushed than any other part of the story. To focus on this just feels like an attempt by the critic to FIND something to criticize.

I do think there is an emotional reaction at play in the fandom's general response here, but I'm not convinced that the criticism I've been reading actually gets to the heart of what's upsetting people. Something IS upsetting people. Is it BAD WRITING? I'm not sure. In some (not all) cases it seems to be a bad reaction to tragedy or anticlimax. I do also think there are people who have convinced themselves such and such will be addressed, that these two characters will talk about X, etc. etc. and they're panicking that there may not be any space allotted for that in the end, and that's why they feel things are being "rushed." I certainly have some criticisms I could levy at the ending, but I'd like to wait until the ending (the OFFICIAL ending) before I put them on the record.

The thing is, in the end, "what Horikoshi was trying to do" is entirely irrelevant to the final product. If all we do is just argue over what we each think Horikoshi was trying to do, we'll get no where. This was hammered into me in my education, that what an author intended is useless to literary analysis. When I find something in a story that doesn't make sense to me, I take a step back and try to figure out what reading does make it make sense. Sometimes I have to ask others their opinions to puzzle it out. I do appreciate that you sent me this criticism, but I am not yet convinced the fandom has truly identified any concrete issues with the actual writing of the ending as of now. I'm not saying the ending is perfect, just that the problems I see with the ending are very different from what the fandom so far keeps talking about.

#ask pika #anon ask #my hero academia manga spoilers #epilogue arc spoilers

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grunckle · 6 months ago

Text

Some disjointed thoughts on the Void Sea and the subconcious

I really just wanted to write something quickly on this, it’s not so much a theory as it is just a small analysis on the general mood of the ending, with a little contextualizing with in game dialogue.

So the subconscious is such a mysterious yet integral part to understanding the more spiritual/alien parts of Rain World. This isn’t a world in which the eldritch and unknowable lurk in the far reaches of space, but rather appear through our own minds and subconscious.

Echos appear in dream like sequences, where all other life except scavengers (in vanilla) fall asleep.

Karma flowers allow us to contact imagined worlds, other selves, dreams, and memories.

Eating a neuron of an iterator allows us to perceive voidspawn.

Our karma is raised through the mark of communication, which is linked to the brain in some way judging by Five Pebbles’s slideshow.

And, beyond that, plenty of cerebral/brainy imagery and concepts are present.

“Cabinet beasts” (the organ-like worms found in Memory Crypts) are likely some sort or mutated brain tissue, I talk about it more in this post.

Void worms also have a neural texture that covers their skin.

There’s the cut brain tree, which made it back in the game (though pretty unceremoniously) in Downpour.

And then of course there’s iterators, massive brains that are the last long-standing remnant of the benefactors’ civilization, and serve as the main driving forces of the game’s side plot.

I bring all this up just to show how cerebral and subconscious elements are pretty prevalent throughout the game, and it provides some context to my thoughts on the Void Sea.

That being said, I think the Void Sea acts as a collective unconscious, a place where the many worlds and selves of the subconscious coalesce into one, dream-like existence.

Echos appear in dream-like sequences, but are still experienced by nearby scavs. They even have different personalities and reactions to it, some being curious, while others are afraid.

Continuing on this, benefactors experienced the same dreams we do in Subterranean, shown through white pearl dialogue.

“Oh, interesting. This is a diary entry of a pre-Iterator era laborer during the construction of the subterranean transit system south of here. In it they describe restless nights filled with disturbing dreams, where millions glowing stars move menacingly in the distance”

These go towards the idea of the Void Sea and other void related phenomena existing as a sort of collective unconsciousness, experienced through hazy dreams and hallucinogenic plants by many.

But then there’s the “egg” sequence, where you swim in unison with others just like yourself. I think these are the “selves of other planes” mentioned by Moon in the Karma Flower dialogue, and I think that same dialogue is indicative on what the nature of the Void is. It’s detaching yourself from your carnal body and coming in contact with your own subconscious, and possibly the subconscious of others. Think of it like a big mind soup.

Anyway this really resonated with me because I distinctly remember the feeling I had the first time I went through Depths. As the caves around me started melting, it felt like I was descending deeper and deeper into a dream I couldn’t wake up from. That packed with the genuine horror of seeing the worms, and the dreamy ending, it really left a lasting impression.

Halfway through writing this, I realized it’s a bit longer than I was initially expecting, but I hope I managed to convey the general vibe I got.

#rain world lore #rain world #rain world spoilers #videocult

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artyandink · 3 months ago

Text

amoralism | thirteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, the Sucide Squad formation and it being a train wreck, a bit of family problems, angst, smut

STW: unprotected sex (do not do this at any circumstances), oral (f. receiving), betrayal!era Dean sex so it’s kinda like if Demon!Dean would do it which we all love, kind of angsty sex, rough sex, rather emotional

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Tears of Gold - Faouzia

catastrophism

You and Sam were hunched over a pile of papers and computer screens in his dimly lit living room. The room, usually a sanctuary, felt heavy with the weight of your mission. The hum of the computer and the rustling of papers were the only sounds breaking the silence as you scoured for any sign of Dean.

“We’ve got to find him before he goes underground completely,” Sam said, his voice strained but determined. His eyes darted across the screen, following the trail of data that might lead you to Dean. The pressure was mounting; it was evident in the lines etched deep into his face.

You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes glazed over as you flipped through a file with disjointed leads. The stress was palpable, and though you were trying to keep your focus, your thoughts kept wandering back to Dean—the betrayal, the manipulation, the overwhelming realization of it all. It was hard to shake the image of him as the mole, a shadow over every decision and interaction.

Sam glanced over at you, noting the weariness in your eyes and the tight grip you had on the edge of the table. “Hey,” he said gently, “are you okay? You seem...off.”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. “I’m fine,” you replied, though your voice was brittle and unconvincing. “We just need to keep going. We can’t stop now.”

Sam didn’t buy it. He knew you too well. “You’ve been pushing yourself really hard. Maybe we should take a break. It’s been nonstop since—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply, perhaps a little too sharply. “We don’t have time for breaks. Dean’s out there, and he’s a threat. We have to find him before he disappears.”

Sam’s expression hardened slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. “I understand that. But if you’re not in a good place, it’s going to make things harder. We need you at your best.”

You felt a surge of frustration, but underneath it, a deep current of fear and sadness. “I’m fine,” you insisted again, but this time your voice trembled.

Sam’s face softened, seeing through the façade you were desperately trying to maintain. “Look, if you’re struggling, it’s okay. We’re in this together. But you need to let yourself take a breath.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the pressure of it all was too much. You tried to hold back the tears, but they began to spill over uncontrollably. The stress, the worry, the betrayal—everything was crashing down on you, and you felt utterly defeated.

Sam stood up from his chair, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and empathy. “Hey,” he said gently, approaching you. “It’s okay to let it out. We’re going to get through this.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You slumped forward, your shoulders shaking with sobs as the tears flowed freely. It was as if all the stress and pain you’d been trying to contain had finally broken free. The sound of your crying filled the room, raw and unabashed.

Sam moved quickly to your side, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. The warmth of his hug was a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’re going to figure this out. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You clung to him, taking solace in the simple act of being held. His presence was grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in your mind. The tears kept coming, each one a release of pent-up emotion and stress. Sam held you firmly, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing rhythm.

As you began to regain some composure, you heard a gentle knock on the door. It creaked open, revealing Jess, rubbing her baby bump. She stepped in, concern etched on her face. “Sam? I heard... Are you guys okay? Do you need anything?”

Sam glanced up, his eyes apologetic. “Hey, Jess. We’re... we’re fine. Just had a bit of a moment.”

Jess looked between you and Sam, understanding dawning on her face. “Do you need something to eat or drink? Maybe just some time to relax?”

You pulled away slightly from Sam’s embrace, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Jess shook her head, her expression gentle. “Don’t apologize. Everyone needs a break sometimes. Here, let me get you something. It’s the least I can do.”

She left the room, her presence a calming one. You and Sam were left alone again, but the tension in the room had lessened. Sam’s gaze was soft, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay to take a step back. We’ll get through this together.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Thanks, Sam. I just...I didn’t realize how overwhelmed I was.”

“It’s understandable,” Sam said. “This whole situation is tough on everyone. But remember, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. Jess returned shortly with a tray of snacks and drinks, setting them down on the table. “Here you go,” she said with a warm smile. “Just some comfort food. It might not solve everything, but it can help.”

You managed a small, grateful smile as you took a sip of the tea Jess had brought. The simple act of kindness felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. Jess’s presence, combined with Sam’s unwavering support, helped you find a moment of calm amid the storm.

As you ate and drank, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the atmosphere easing as you all shared a brief respite from the intensity of the situation. Sam and Jess talked about their plans for the weekend, and you listened, allowing yourself to be momentarily distracted from the pressing worries.

You and Sam made your way through the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the FBI headquarters, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on you like a vice. The air was thick with the tension that had been building ever since Dean's betrayal came to light, and it was all you could do to keep moving forward. Sam walked beside you, his long strides purposeful, but there was a heaviness to his movements that you recognized all too well. He’d been carrying the burden of Dean’s actions just as much as you had, maybe even more.

As you approached the office of Director Bobby Singer, your stomach twisted in knots. Bobby wasn’t just your superior; he was practically family. He’d known Sam and Dean since they were kids, and he’d watched them grow into the men they were today. The thought of facing him, of telling him that you still had no solid leads on Dean’s whereabouts, made your chest tighten with guilt.

Sam paused in front of the heavy oak door, his hand hovering over the handle. He glanced at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of determination and dread. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the uncertainty gnawing at your insides. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a deep breath, Sam pushed open the door, and you both stepped into the office. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls lined with bookshelves crammed full of case files, old and new. The scent of leather and paper filled the air, a comforting reminder of the countless hours spent in this room, poring over case details with Bobby.

Behind the large, cluttered desk sat Director Bobby Singer. He was a grizzled man in his late fifties, his once-dark hair now streaked with gray, his blue eyes sharp and calculating. He looked up from the file he was reading, his gaze settling on the two of you with a mixture of weariness and concern. The lines on his face seemed deeper than you remembered, as if the weight of the world had finally begun to take its toll on him.

“Shut the door behind you,” Bobby said, his voice gravelly but not unkind. You did as he asked, the soft click of the door closing behind you punctuating the heavy silence that had settled over the room.

Bobby motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Sit,” he said simply, and you and Sam both sank into the worn leather chairs, the familiar creak of the old furniture grounding you in the moment.

For a long moment, Bobby just stared at the two of you, his eyes flicking back and forth as if searching for something. You could tell he was trying to gauge the situation, to read between the lines of what you weren’t saying. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m guessing you’re here to give me an update on Dean,” he said, his tone neutral but the underlying concern evident.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “We’ve been working every lead we’ve got, Bobby, but…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening with frustration.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “But you haven’t found him.”

It wasn’t a question, and the truth of it hung in the air like a lead weight.

You glanced at Sam, seeing the same frustration mirrored in his face. “We’ve been following every lead, Bobby,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s like he’s just… disappeared.”

Bobby’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, a pain that came from knowing just how far Dean had fallen. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to him.

“Dammit,” Bobby muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. He was silent for a moment, his mind clearly working through the implications of what you’d said. Finally, he looked back up at the two of you, his gaze sharp and focused.

“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice firm. “Every lead you’ve followed, every dead end. I need to know where we stand.”

You and Sam exchanged a quick glance before Sam nodded, leaning forward slightly as he began to recount the details of the investigation. “We started with his last known location,” Sam began, his voice steady despite the tension in his body. “After he escaped custody, we traced him to a safe house in Montana. But by the time we got there, he was already gone.”

Bobby nodded, listening intently, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “Any sign of where he went after that?”

Sam shook his head, his frustration evident. “Nothing concrete. We found some evidence that he’d been in contact with a few known associates—people we’ve had on our radar for a while. But none of them were willing to talk. It’s like they’re more afraid of Dean than they are of us.”

Bobby frowned, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his desk. “That’s not surprising. Dean’s always been good at getting people to do what he wants. But this… This is different. He’s not just working with them, he’s controlling them.”

You nodded, the weight of Bobby’s words settling heavily in your chest. “We think he’s been planning this for a long time,” you said quietly. “He’s always been one step ahead of us, like he knew what we were going to do before we did it.”

Bobby’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you were saying. “And you think he’s working alone?”

The question hung in the air, and you could see the doubt in Sam’s eyes as he considered how to respond. “We’re not sure,” Sam admitted finally. “We know he’s been in contact with some high-level operatives, but we haven’t been able to confirm if he’s officially aligned with any groups. It’s possible he’s acting independently.”

Bobby’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “If Dean’s gone rogue, that makes him even more dangerous. He knows our methods, our protocols. He can predict our every move.”

The room fell silent as the reality of the situation settled over you all. Dean wasn’t just another fugitive; he was one of your own, someone who knew the inner workings of the FBI better than anyone. And that made him a threat like no other.

Bobby leaned forward, his gaze piercing as he looked at you and Sam. “So what’s your plan? How do you intend to bring him in?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The truth was, you didn’t have a concrete plan. Every lead you’d followed had ended in a dead end, every attempt to track him down had been thwarted. And now, sitting here in Bobby’s office, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of hopelessness creeping in.

But before you could voice those doubts, Sam spoke up, his voice firm and resolute. “We’re going to keep looking,” he said, his jaw set in determination. “We’re not giving up, Bobby. We’ll find him. We have to.”

Bobby studied Sam for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, a reluctant sigh escaping him. “I know you will, Sam. But you need to be careful. Dean’s not the same person you grew up with. He’s changed. And I don’t just mean because of what he’s done. He’s… different.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how much Dean had changed. How much of the man you’d known and loved was still in there, and how much had been lost to whatever darkness had taken hold of him.

“We’ll be careful,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “But we need to bring him in, Bobby. Before he does something we can’t undo.”

Bobby’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of the familiar warmth returning to his eyes. “I know you will,” he said, his voice gentle. “Just… don’t let this consume you. Either of you. Dean’s made his choices, and now you have to make yours.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder that this wasn’t just about finding Dean; it was about protecting yourselves, about not losing sight of who you were in the process. And that was something you both needed to remember, no matter how difficult it might be.

The room fell silent again, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you. You could feel Sam’s tension beside you, his fists clenched in his lap as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but you weren’t sure what to say. How could you comfort him when you felt just as lost as he did?

Bobby seemed to sense the tension between you, and he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his graying hair. “Look, I know this is hard. It’s hard for all of us. But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance, even if you weren’t entirely sure you believed it. “Thank you, Bobby,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bobby waved off your thanks, his expression softening as he looked at you and Sam. “You’re family,” he said simply. “We take care of our own.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that you’d find Dean and make things right. But as you left Bobby’s office, the reality of the situation settled over you once more.

Dean was out there, a threat to everyone you cared about, and you had no idea where to start looking next. All you could do was keep searching, keep fighting, and hope that somehow, you’d find a way to bring him back before it was too late.

The night had settled into an eerie silence, the kind that left you hyper-aware of every creak and groan of your house. Your bedroom was dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls. You’d been sitting on the edge of your bed for what felt like hours, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The revelation that Dean was the mole had shattered something inside you, leaving you feeling lost and hollow. You’d tried to focus on finding him, on stopping him, but every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his face—the smirk that used to make your heart race, now twisted into something dangerous, something you didn’t recognize.

You knew you should be doing something—anything—but instead, you sat there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. Your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, the stress of the past few days catching up with you. How had it come to this? Dean, of all people, betraying you, betraying Sam, betraying everything you thought he stood for. You wanted to hate him, but the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Despite everything, you missed him. You missed the way he used to look at you, the way he could make you feel safe and alive all at once. But now, all of that felt like a distant memory, tainted by the knowledge of what he’d done.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door creak open. It wasn’t until you felt a presence in the room—familiar, yet unsettling—that you realized you weren’t alone. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you whipped around, eyes widening in disbelief as you saw him standing there, just inside the doorway.

“Dean…” The word came out as a whisper, a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite place.

He looked different. The Dean you knew was always intense, but this—this was something else. His green eyes were hard, almost cold, and there was a darkness in them that made your blood run cold. He was dressed in his usual jeans and leather jacket, but there was an edge to him now, a dangerous confidence that had always been there, but was now fully unleashed.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand up from the bed, though your legs felt like they might give out at any moment. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, your voice stronger than you felt. “How did you even get in?”

Dean just stared at you for a long moment, his gaze piercing, before he finally spoke. “You left the window unlocked.” His voice was low, rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. There was something different in his tone—an almost predatory calm that both terrified and thrilled you.

You took a step back, instinctively putting some distance between you. “You need to leave, Dean. Right now. You—” The words caught in your throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A slow, humorless smile spread across his face as he took a step forward, closing the gap you’d tried to create. “I shouldn’t be here?” he echoed, his voice dripping with irony. “I think you know that’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The term of endearment used to make you feel warm, cared for. Now, it felt like a weapon, a reminder of what he used to be and what he’d become. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “Dean, please… We can talk about this, but not here. Not like this.”

His smile faltered slightly, a flash of something—anger? hurt?—flickering across his face before it was gone, replaced by that cold, hard mask. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. “You and Sam think you can just hunt me down, lock me up? You really think I’d let that happen?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the stark reality of what he was saying, what he was willing to do, finally sinking in. “I don’t want to lock you up,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I just want to understand why, Dean. Why are you doing this? Why did you betray us?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of the old Dean, the man you loved, behind those cold eyes. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, replaced by something darker, more resolute.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you shot back, your desperation starting to bleed through. “I deserve to know, Dean. After everything we’ve been through, I deserve to know why.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, and for a moment you thought he might actually tell you, that he might break down the wall he’d built around himself. But then his expression hardened, and he took another step toward you, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Enough with the questions,” he growled, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re not here to understand. You’re here because you can’t stay away.”

The accusation stung because deep down, you knew there was some truth to it. Despite everything, despite knowing what he’d done, you couldn’t stop wanting him. It was like a sickness, an addiction you couldn’t shake.

“No,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “I’m here because I wanted to make you see reason. To remind you of who you are.”

Dean’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a grip that was firm but not painful. It was enough to make your heart race, enough to make you acutely aware of how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to.

“Who I am?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. “I know exactly who I am. And I think you do too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You can try to resist all you want, but we both know how this ends.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you. The feel of his breath against your skin, the heat of his body so close to yours, it was all too much. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him.

“Dean, please…” The words came out as a whisper, but you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. For him to stop? For him to keep going? You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you were lost, caught between wanting him and knowing you shouldn’t.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His other hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was surprisingly tender, considering the darkness in his eyes. The touch made you shiver, your resolve crumbling even further.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of the man you used to know. “Why are you doing this?” you asked again, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why, Dean?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw something break in his expression, something that looked like guilt or regret. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cold, steely resolve.

“Because this is who I am now,” he said, his voice rough, almost resigned. “And you’re either with me or against me.”

The words hit you like a blow, the finality of them making your heart ache. You wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to come back to you, but you knew it was useless. This was who he was now, and nothing you said would change that.

But even as you thought that, even as you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into him, from letting him pull you closer until your bodies were pressed together. The feel of him against you, the heat and strength of him, it was intoxicating, and you hated yourself for wanting it, for needing it.

“Dean…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He didn’t say anything, just tightened his grip on you, his hand sliding from your face down to your neck, his fingers curling around the back of your head as he tilted your face up to his. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you, and despite everything, you wanted him to. You wanted to lose yourself in him, to forget everything for just a little while.

But instead, he just stared down at you, his gaze intense, almost searching. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

The words hung in the air between you, a lifeline you weren’t sure you were strong enough to take. You knew you should tell him to stop, that you should tell him to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t. The truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to leave. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you still wanted him.

You didn’t say anything, and after a moment, Dean’s expression hardened. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, almost to himself.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle or tender like the kisses you used to share. This was different. This was rough, demanding, almost desperate. It was like he was trying to claim you, to remind you who was in control. And maybe that was what you needed—maybe that was why you didn’t push him away.

You kissed him back, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him closer, giving in to the need that had been gnawing at you since the moment he walked into the room. It was wrong, you knew that, but in that moment, you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way he made you feel, the way he could make you forget everything else.

Dean’s hands moved to your waist, his grip firm as he pushed you back toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding in your chest as the back of your legs hit the mattress. He broke the kiss just long enough to push you down onto the bed, following you down, his body pressing you into the mattress as he claimed your lips again.

It was all happening so fast, and yet it felt like time had slowed down, every touch, every kiss searing itself into your memory. You knew this was a mistake, that you should stop him, but you couldn’t. You were too far gone, too lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. You’d been craving this, needing it, and now that it was happening, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it.

Dean’s hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, sliding under your shirt to touch your bare skin. You gasped at the feel of his rough hands against your skin, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. It was like you were on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

“Dean…” His name slipped from your lips, a plea, a confession. You didn’t even know what you were asking for anymore. All you knew was that you needed him, that you couldn’t let him go.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer, needing more, needing all of him. It was like a fever, a need so intense it consumed you, and you couldn’t think of anything else but him.

Dean’s hand slid up your thigh, pushing your shirt higher as he went. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. It was too much, and yet not enough. You needed more, and he knew it. He could sense it in the way you moved beneath him, in the way you clung to him.

“Is this what you want?” Dean’s voice was rough, almost mocking as he pulled back just enough to look down at you. His eyes were dark, filled with a dangerous intensity that both thrilled and terrified you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in short gasps. You should say no. You should tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you found yourself nodding, your body betraying you once again.

A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of heat as he kissed his way down your chest, your stomach.

You were trembling now, your body alight with need and anticipation. Every touch, every kiss was like a brand, searing itself into your skin, your soul. You were losing yourself in him, in the feel of him, and you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to find your way back.

Dean’s hands were rough, his touch possessive as he moved over you, his lips finding every sensitive spot, his hands leaving marks that would bruise by morning. You gasped, moaned, begged for more, even as your mind screamed at you to stop, to remember who he was, what he’d done.

But it was too late. You were too far gone, too lost in the haze of desire and need. This was Dean, and despite everything, despite the betrayal, despite the lies, you couldn’t stop wanting him. You couldn’t stop loving him.

And so you gave in, letting him take you, letting him claim you, even though you knew it was wrong, even though you knew it would destroy you.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking harshly as he threw your legs over his shoulders, taking it between his teeth for a moment before tracing his name with his tongue. Dean’s fingers came in to break you further, delving into your soaked pussy as he lapped up everything you had to offer until his lips and chin were glistening, but didn’t stop even then.

You didn’t know how long it lasted—minutes, hours, it all blurred together in a haze of heat and need. All you knew was that when it was over, when the storm had passed, you were left trembling, broken, your heart shattered into a million pieces as you came hard and fast, not given time to think or speak.

Dean was still there, his weight heavy on top of you, his breath ragged against your neck when he quickly pounced back up, whipping off his jeans and boxers, his leather jacket and shirt and entering you with one quick snap of his hips. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, strong and steady, a reminder that this wasn’t a dream anymore, that this was real.

You didn’t want it to be real. He’d leave again.

But he removed that thought from your head, pinning your hands above your head, thrusting so hard you’d probably feel it for a week. “So good, baby girl.” Dean growled against your neck, chuckling. “So desperate for me to fuck you raw. I’ll explain everything, I promise.” You couldn’t think, speak, not when he was stripping you of everything in that moment.

Breaking you down and building you back up again as something broken - like him - until he came and you did too a few sloppy thrusts later, Dean’s hard, unrecognisable body collapsing on top of yours like it used to,

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence in the room deafening. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. All you could do was lie there, trying to catch your breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Finally, Dean pulled away, rolling off you and onto his back. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you. He just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sight of him. He looked so different now, so distant. The man you loved was still there, somewhere beneath the surface, but he was buried deep, hidden behind layers of anger and pain.

“Dean…” You didn’t know what you were going to say, didn’t know if there was anything left to say. But before you could finish, he cut you off.

“Don’t.” His voice was rough, cold, and it made you flinch. “Just… don’t.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, the finality of them making your chest tighten. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to be saved.

And that hurt more than anything.

The following morning, you arrived at the FBI headquarters with an uneasy sense of anticipation. The memory of Dean's sudden reappearance in your life, his rough demeanor, and the fraught, emotional aftermath of that encounter left you feeling on edge. Your nerves were still raw, and the uncertainty of the situation made every step feel heavy, every sound magnified.

You and Sam headed straight to Bobby Singer’s office, where you knew you would receive an update on the ongoing investigation. The sense of urgency was palpable, and Sam’s expression was set in determined lines as he opened the door to Bobby’s office.

Bobby was already there, sitting behind his desk with a stack of files neatly arranged before him. His face was etched with concern, and the usual warmth of his expression was tempered by the seriousness of the situation. As you and Sam entered, Bobby glanced up, his gaze sweeping over you with a hint of the resolve he always carried.

“Morning,” Bobby said, his voice carrying the weariness of long hours spent working on a high-stakes case. “I’ve called a meeting. We’re going to need to think outside the box on this one.”

You exchanged a quick look with Sam, both of you wondering what Bobby had in mind. The weight of Dean’s betrayal had pushed you to the edge, and it seemed like the solution would involve something unconventional.

Bobby stood up, his demeanor taking on a more theatrical edge. “We’ve got a team coming together, one that’s going to work outside of the usual Bureau protocols. You’ll see what I mean.”

With a wave of his hand, Bobby began the introductions. It felt like the opening scene of a high-stakes action movie, each name and face meant to signal something important. You stood there, watching and waiting, as Bobby began.

“First up,” Bobby said, his voice taking on a dramatic tone, “we’ve got someone who’s not just a tech genius but also a force to be reckoned with. She’s the one who can hack through the toughest security systems and has a knack for getting things done. Ladies and gentlemen, Charlie Bradbury.”

The door to Bobby’s office opened with a flourish, and in walked Charlie Bradbury. She was a petite woman with an energetic presence, her short red hair styled into a messy bob that seemed to fit her vibrant personality. Her attire was a bit unconventional for an FBI meeting—a graphic tee layered under a plaid shirt, and jeans with sneakers. She gave a quick wave and a bright smile, her enthusiasm evident as she took her place in the room.

“Next,” Bobby continued, “we have Garth Fitzgerald IV. He’s got the smarts, the charm, and a level of resourcefulness that’s hard to match. Garth, why don’t you come on in?”

The door opened again, and Garth Fitzgerald IV strolled in. Garth had an easygoing manner about him, his long brown hair pulled into a casual ponytail. He wore a casual blazer over a graphic tee, and his demeanor was relaxed, almost too relaxed for the gravity of the situation. His bright blue eyes twinkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief, making it clear he was someone who could be counted on in a pinch.

“Now for someone with a bit more of a no-nonsense attitude,” Bobby said. “John Winchester, a Navy SEAL and Bureau veteran. He’s seen it all and survived it all. Let’s see him now.”

John Winchester entered the room with a solid, no-nonsense presence. He was tall and muscular, his uniform impeccably pressed, his hair cut short and neatly styled. His eyes were sharp and alert, constantly scanning the room with a practiced gaze. His stance was rigid, and there was an intensity about him that spoke of years spent in high-stress situations. Despite the seriousness, there was a quiet respect in his posture, indicating that he was here to get results.

“Dad.” Sam said almost breathlessly, getting a curt nod from John.

“Son.” He replied quietly.

“Coming up next,” Bobby said, with a hint of pride, “Agent Jack Kline. Young, but don’t let that fool you. He’s driven, sharp, and has a personal stake in this mission.”

The door swung open to reveal Jack Kline. Jack was in his mid-twenties, his youthful face marked by a determination that belied his age. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back with a bit too much gel. There was an earnestness about him, a fire in his eyes that suggested he was ready to prove himself. He gave a quick nod as he took his place, his posture straight and attentive.

“Rufus Turner is up next,” Bobby said, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “He’s a personal friend of mine, a man who’s been around the block and knows his way through the worst of situations.”

Rufus Turner ambled in with a relaxed air. He was an older man with a grizzled beard and a weathered face that told tales of a long life lived on the edge. His attire was practical and comfortable—a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and worn jeans. Despite his casual look, there was an air of quiet competence about him. He moved with the ease of someone who knew exactly how to handle himself in any situation.

“And finally,” Bobby said, with a hint of ceremony, “we have MI6 agent Mick Davies. Don’t let his British charm fool you. He’s a seasoned operative with a knack for strategy and an uncanny ability to get results.”

Mick Davies walked in with a smooth confidence. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his British accent evident as he gave a polite nod to everyone in the room. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his demeanor was polished and controlled, suggesting a refined sense of discipline and professionalism. He glanced around the room with a keen eye, taking in the group with an air of detached interest.

“Why did that feel too much like a movie?” Sam pointed out, extremely confused.

“Get with the times, idjit.” Bobby replied with a grimace.

You, Sam, and Bobby walked down the corridor toward the large conference room where the newly assembled team, unofficially dubbed the “suicide squad” by Bobby, was set to have its first meeting. The mood was a mix of trepidation and reluctant optimism. Each step you took echoed with the weight of the task ahead. You glanced at Sam, who looked as tense as you felt. He caught your eye and offered a small, reassuring smile.

“Ready for this?” Sam asked, his voice carrying a note of humor despite the underlying seriousness.

You shrugged, trying to mask your nervousness with a grin. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bobby led the way, his demeanor a blend of determined authority and barely concealed exasperation. “Let’s just hope this motley crew can get their act together. We need results, and we need them fast.”

As you entered the conference room, the scene that greeted you was anything but what you had expected. The room, designed for high-stakes meetings and serious discussions, was currently a battleground of personalities. Papers were scattered across the large table, coffee cups and half-eaten snacks littered the surface, and a low murmur of voices competed with the sound of shuffling papers and the occasional burst of laughter.

Charlie was already there, surrounded by a mountain of tech gadgets and open laptops. She was energetically typing away on her keyboard, her eyes darting from one screen to another with frenetic energy. “Just give me a sec, I’m almost through with this encryption!” she called out without looking up.

Garth was sprawled comfortably in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table. He was engrossed in a large comic book, occasionally glancing up with a mischievous grin. “Hey, what’s up? Got any cool new cases for us?” he asked cheerfully, waving his comic book around.

John, standing at the window, was peering out with a focused intensity. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his posture rigid. He barely acknowledged the newcomers, his attention fixed on something only he seemed to see. His frown deepened as he muttered, “We better make sure our perimeter is secure. Can’t be too careful.”

Agent Kline, with his loosely tailored suit and too-gelled hair, was seated at the far end of the table, his gaze darting nervously between his notes and the door. He looked as if he was bracing himself for an incoming storm. “Is this where the briefing starts?” he asked, his accent tinged with a hint of nervous politeness.

Rufus Turner, the weathered veteran, was sitting back in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand. He was wearing a bemused expression as he watched the chaos unfold. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Looks like we got ourselves a real circus here.”

Mick was the last to arrive, his sharp suit and neatly combed hair making him stand out even more in the already chaotic room. He entered with a smooth, confident stride, giving everyone a polite nod before taking a seat. “Morning, everyone. I trust we’re all ready to tackle the matter at hand?” he said, his British accent crisp and precise.

Bobby took a deep breath, his face a mask of restrained frustration. “Alright, everyone, let’s get this show on the road. We have a lot to cover, and we need to get organized.”

Charlie, still engrossed in her work, muttered, “Just a minute, Bobby. I’m almost through with decrypting this file. We’re going to need it.”

Garth looked up from his comic book with a raised eyebrow. “Decrypting? Sounds like a real party. How about we get some snacks and make this meeting more fun?”

John, still fixated on the window, grunted in agreement. “We don’t have time for snacks. We need to focus.”

Jack shifted in his seat, trying to catch Bobby’s attention. “Director Singer, if we could have a clear agenda, it might help streamline things.”

Rufus snorted into his coffee. “Streamline things? We haven’t even started, and it’s already a mess.”

Mick, attempting to bring some semblance of order, cleared his throat. “Perhaps a more structured approach would be beneficial. Let’s lay out our objectives clearly.”

Bobby’s patience was visibly wearing thin. He tapped the table with his knuckles, trying to regain control of the meeting. “Alright, everyone, listen up. We’ve got a lot of talent in this room, but we need to focus. The situation is critical, and we can’t afford any more delays. We need to find Dean and resolve this crisis.”

Charlie finally looked up from her screens, her face alight with excitement. “Got it! I’ve got some preliminary data here. We can start by narrowing down his recent contacts.”

Garth folded his comic book with a flourish and sat up straight. “Alright, let’s get to it then. I’m ready for action.”

John let out a huff and moved away from the window. “Fine, but we better not waste time. We need to be meticulous.”

Jack adjusted his suit and glanced at his notes. “I’ll handle the documentation and ensure everything is properly logged. Efficiency is key.”

Rufus shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Well, this oughta be interesting.”

Mick straightened in his chair, his demeanor all business. “Let’s proceed with a detailed strategy. We need to ensure that all angles are covered.”

As the team began to settle into their roles, the chaos seemed to simmer down a bit, replaced by a more focused, if still somewhat disorganized, energy. You and Sam exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the irony of the situation. The team was indeed a collection of diverse and conflicting personalities, but maybe, just maybe, that was what would make them effective.

Sam leaned closer and whispered, “Do you think this is going to work?”

You shrugged, a wry smile playing on your lips. “They said so much nonsense in five minutes that I’m not quite sure.”

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spinchip · 6 months ago

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Bloat

(Warnings: disrespectful discussion of self harm/suicide by a side character. murder. Lots of death.)

They're here about a series of murders. Nya doesn't know why they dragged the ninja out to this nothing town with its stone castle and still water lake, with its missing persons and their empty spaces. The ninja aren't detectives, even if Zane likes to pretend. With twelve people missing, Zane keeps his fedora at home and approaches this delicately. Nya wishes he'd put on that stupid hat.

She's also not sure why she keeps slipping up and saying murder when it's really just missing persons, officially. Eight men, four women, varying ages. All different kinds of backgrounds vanished without a trace.

The ocean mourned each dead fish, every shrimp swallowed alive, but it didn't interfere. Nya struggles to find the point to this. Everyone is somber and cold in the rainy afternoon fog. Jay tries and fails to speak to her several times, slinking away with his tail between his legs each time. She could have been nicer, less blunt, when she ended things. The river does not apologize to the stone it shaves to dust. Her thoughts still feel disjointed and off. The lake's surface is so serene it's mirrored, reflecting gray clouds and dark nights.

The first two victims were teenage boys who snuck out to buy cigarettes. They were supposed to meet a mutual friend but failed to show up. The living boy is distraught, a mess, consumed by guilt and grief and fear for his friends. Kai takes Nya by the upper arm and hauls her away from the group when she says something uncouth, insensitive, cruel. The ocean had no use for manners.

She dreams of drowning in a bathtub, but she doesn't struggle. She simply sinks under cold water, closes her eyes, and-

She wakes up vomiting brackish water over the edge of her bed and doesn't tell anyone.

The seventh victim is hardly considered a victim at all. She'd tried to kill herself three weeks before she went missing, and the rude cop with the badly trimmed beard scoffs at her inclusion in the list. Probably snuck off to the woods, he sneers, finished slitting up her wrists. Nothing to do with these other cases, just lumped in there to do it.

But her mother said she'd changed her mind. What is the significance in wanting to live when death will come for you regardless? She thinks about that girl the most, and hopes she found peace.

Nya feels more aligned with the blood under her skin than the rest of her body. Flow. Liquid. It rushes through her veins like whitewater rapids.

She dreams of inky blackness, encased by water. She wakes up vomiting water again, but Zane is sitting by her bedside with a bucket and paper towel. His eyes are cold despite how he tries to hide it. They're always cold, now.

Bad dream? He asks, reserved. It's a trap but she doesn't know how.

Go back to bed She says instead, rolling over and ignoring him for the rest of the night. He doesn't leave. She doesn't fall back asleep.

Cole gets her to eat even when bread and eggs taste like salt water and seaweed. She hates the taste of the water from the tap. The lake is covered by a thin layer of mist and it smells old and stagnant. Settled water, too much of it.

Charles, the older man who tends to the castle grounds, tells her it's a man-made lake. Put together by the previous lord and lady of the land, dug out by workers paid pennies. He worked on it when he was just a boy. He doesn't say much, and he doesn't do much around the castle. Old and feeble, his mind has gone spoiled. He looks at Nya like she's inhuman.

The last victim was the lord's son, Albert. He's the only one whose name they learn immediately, the police placing his file on top of all of the others and ranking him at priority number one. It's time to do something now that the lord's son is missing.

He'll have my head, Lord Vonnet will, if I don't return his son safely The lord's royal guard dabs his sweaty forehead with a damp towel.

You poor bastard, Nya says before she can think, get your affairs in order.

Lloyd is the one to drag her out of the room looking mortified. Zane follows him out and they exchange a handful of quiet words that Nya can't hear behind the raging waves crashing in her ears. Zane takes her out to the lake.

They are all dead he says simply.

Since before we even set foot in town she confirms.

They are in the lake.

She closes her eyes and sees still, black water. At the very bottom.

The wind blows a sour smell off the surface of the lake. It might have been beautiful, once. When it was fresh and the water was clear and blue. Before it was filled with rot.

I do not know who did it he confesses I keep having bad dreams.

I dream I'm drowning she offers.

I dream I am throwing bodies in the lake he gives back.

She stares at the horizon I feel nothing. Isn't that awful.

He shrugs the ocean does not care to investigate every whale fall.

Interesting choice of words. Whale fall. There are no fish in this lake, it's all man-made she looks at him with dull eyes you think something is eating

When I toss them in the lake i Am certain they will never be found

You're not bothered by this either

He shrugs again, an entirely human act for a man whose eyes are so detached, an Emperor does not care to investigate the death of every subject

She stands and ties her hair into a bun, I'll draw them up, can you make them float?

She doesn't bother waiting for an answer, sinking her awareness down down down to the bottom of the lake. She focuses on the vaguely human shaped masses in the water, cupping them and hauling them to the surface where she lets them go and returns to the bottom. She's so powerful now she doesn't need to step foot into the water to raise up the bodies. She begins to find cow and deer carcasses alongside men and women. She finds bones. She finds old jewelry and clothes.

Finally, she finds the animal.

It was given the name stronsay by the whales and sea lions up north, where these things are typically found. Giant sea serpents, rare in the ocean- non-existent in freshwater lakes. Especially never found in man-made ones like this, too barren to support life. It was juvenile, small, and had not yet shed its baby skin. It was not thriving in this fresh water, but it would have lived until it was too big to move in this thing.

Zanes frozen the bodies of the dead and dragged them ashore.

The lord's son is one of the dead, his body in a poor state. When the rest of the ninja and the police come, after they thaw out his body, they find a leather-bound journal where he talks about the pet he hatched from an egg he found in the cold waters on his last holiday. He wrote extensively about how hungry it was, and exactly how he fed it.

He couldn’t keep up with its appetite, Nya says, staring down at his wet, bloated body.

Icarus Zane mutters at her side.

What will become of the beast? The mustaches policeman asks.

We shall slaughter it! The Lady of the land wails, And stick its head on a pike!

It will be safely and humanely relocated Nya corrects her cooly, Do not allow anyone near the lake before it is moved. Unless you don't like them.

Nya Kai warns.

Later, while Lloyd oversees the beasts removal and the others are likewise occupied, Zane asks do you think we are like them?

Dead?

Changed forever. Call it rot, putrefaction, trauma- altered and, ultimately, lost He murmurs.

I would prefer to just be dead she says without thinking, a thrum of shock at the admission the first tangible emotion she's had in days. She remembers the seventh victim. She'd changed her mind.

Zane grins and it's all teeth, a baring of bone.

Where does that leave us, if we are changed? She looks away, staring out at the lake.

Alone He says simply.

We have each other, don’t we? You understand me. I understand you.

We do He looks at her and she looks at him.

The kiss tastes like saltwater and blood. She kisses him again.

#ninjago #zane julien #nya ninjago #spinchip fic #death #suicide #self harm #braincellshipping #this was a really experimental piece sorray

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slavicviking · 1 year ago

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Long Jump, Huge Leap

wc: 5k | Pre-Season 3 steddie

[Ao3]

Whoever said Eddie Munson doesn’t like sports is wrong.

One can dislike a candy bar, a type of soda, a likewise mundane thing that comes down to preferences. No, no. What Eddie Munson feels towards sports cannot be condensed into such a simple term. His body itself outright refuses to take part in any sport activity – sweat immediately pooling at his pits and back and ass, legs acting disjointed, arms too long and too weak to do anything of significance, except for maybe making a fool of himself. With that particular element of his P.E. experience helps his mouth which, funnily enough, is the only part of Eddie that runs quicker than anyone, especially its owner, can catch up. Not that the rest of his group feels exceptionally impressed with the skill presented.

Hawkins High doesn’t need a furry mascot for laugh-inducing entertainment when it has Eddie Munson.

“Munson, you’re in Hagan’s team.”

“Oh, for fuck’s-“

“Do not fret, little ol’ Thomas, I sincerely vouch to not dare touch the balls you play with-“

And as the usual song and dance goes, the ball is thrust directly into his stomach.

Several bruises left on his body and ego later Eddie decides it’s simply not worth it, he skips P.E. entirely – avoids it as if it were the ninth circle of Hell. It may as well be, he thinks. Uncle Wayne seems persistent to convince Eddie to try again but after a long and, frankly tiring, conversation the subject is dropped.

Until now.

Eddie stretches out his legs in front of him, the uncomfortable plastic chair digging into his spine and reshaping his already barely-there ass into a flat tire. It’s psychological warfare, it must be, because how else can one explain furniture that defies its primary function so well. Principal Higgins knew well what she did when she chose them to be placed in front of her office. Her own personal little torture chamber.

“The Principal is ready to see you now, Mr. Munson,” the secretary, a pretty blonde in her twenties, tries to smile at him but all that comes out as a result is a grimace stretched thin over her face. It dims further when Eddie stands up making the most noise he possibly could have with the chair sliding across the parquet.

“Sorry,” he says because he is actually sorry. For all his bold persona and jumping on tables, he hates the idea of bothering someone who absolutely does not deserve it. The secretary is nice, he can say that with confidence he’s gained over sitting in that damned red plastic chair too many times to bother counting. He also knows he can be a lot when seated in it – constantly twitching and shifting, mind all too self-aware of the pre-attached uncoordinated body.

Principal Higgins doesn’t look pleased to see him but when does she ever? Eddie personally believes they see each other often enough to be on first-name basis, or at least have this unspoken camaraderie between each other. He thinks the name Margaret would fit her. Tiffany? The only obstacle of their everlasting friendship he can think of is the boundless hatred she has for him. And he has for her.

“Mr. Munson, I’m glad you could join us,” she says, voice syrupy-sweet, so much so it clogs Eddie’s ears for a moment. She has a maroon sweater on today and Eddie thinks it complements the stark bags under her eyes very well. A white blouse ironed to the bone peeks out from underneath it, sleeves rolled up. It’s then that he notices Coach Collins sitting in the chair usually reserved for the culprit’s legal guardian. This is not a usual part of their – Higgins’ and Eddie’s – routine and so it throws him out of the loop a little.

“Please sit,” Higgins points to the only empty seat in her office. Eddie is glad, for what’s it worth, that the chairs here are leagues better than whatever monstrosity his ass still feels the imprint of awaits in the waiting room.

“It wasn’t me,” Eddie says what he always does as he sits down. The Principal doesn’t look any more or less impressed with the line than usual, only letting out a silent sigh.

“Mr. Munson, your attendance ratio in Mr. Collins’ class is abhorrent.”

Ah. Rough and straight to the point, just the way he likes it.

“I might have missed… a couple of days,” Eddie admits, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. His eyes roam the intricate designs on the carpet. Surprisingly enough they look exactly the same as the last time he’s seen them.

“More like a whole semester, son,” Coach finally decides to take part in this excruciating exchange.

“Normally that amount of missed classes is enough to fail the grade but Mr. Collins was considerate enough to offer you a deal,” Higgins pointedly stares Eddie down as if wanting to force him to slide down to his knees and thank the Coach for the opportunity. As if ‘Mr. Collins’ didn’t turn his head at all the harassment Eddie has faced in his class to begin with.

“Uh-huh.”

“Sport’s Day is coming up. We’d like you to join us this year, Mr. Munson,” she adds, implying she very much would not like him to be there at all but some predestined script requires it. “I believe some teamwork could do you good.”

Yes. Because being stuck with the school’s entire jock population on the football field is somehow better than ten or so of them in a P.E. class. He’s going to die, for sure .

The thing is, he knows they are giving him an excellent out. Sport’s Day is sort-of mandatory, though he’s only attended it once himself. It’s a big event for the school that, in theory, is a great opportunity to let a bit loose and get to know each other. Except, as it often is, a certain part of the Hawkins High population deems themselves as better than others and what should be all fun and games turns puckingly nerve-wracking if you dare to not be pristinely perfect and screw up. Eddie had one attempt in 1982 and hasn’t stick in a foot or arm onto school grounds that day ever since.

“Right,” he says in the end, voice a little strangled. They both clearly take it as him agreeing and, well, he doesn’t really have a choice, does he? Unless he wants to repeat Senior Year again.

He doesn’t.

He really, really doesn’t.

So one full day of excruciating pain it is.

-&-

It’s hot as fucking balls.

The event hasn’t started yet but Eddie can already feel the sweat pooling all over his body. Students stand in small groups all around the yard and it takes him a long while before he spots the Corroded Coffin.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Eddie Munson?”

“Yeah, yeah, yack it up,” he rolls his eyes at Jeff, eyes scanning the area for a semi-hidden smoking spot and finding none. It’s too risky, anyway. He lifts the hem of his shirt to fan himself. “Not like I had a choice.”

They all know about the quote unquote ‘olive branch’ handed out to him by the school but he can feel they’re surprised he decided to follow through with the spectacle anyway.

A long queue forms in the middle of the court, Coach Collins and Jenkins right at the top of it all along with Principle Higgins, each with a jar filled with differently colored strips of material in their hands. Even with no say in the matter, Eddie feels his hand sweating the closer he gets to the harbinger of his doom. Soon enough he will know who is going to make his life hell the next ten or so hours.

“Team yellow,” Collins tells him and gives him the appropriately colored ribbon. Eddie does a apathetic ‘woohoo’ with it before sliding off the side where his new team members reside. He ties the material loosely around his neck because he lives to disrupt the norm. Because fuck Collins.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to go there, dude,” Hawkins’ personal eye-candy, Steve Harrington, tells him upon arrival. Even in this horrid damp weather he keeps smiling for some unknown reason, no strand of hair out of place. He has his basketball uniform on – a simple gray shirt and, oh God, tiny shorts that expose those legs- Eddie snaps his head up so fast he’s surprised it hasn’t cracked and rolled off yet. Perhaps that would be the more merciful solution. A yellow ribbon is residing around Harrington’s sun-kissed bicep.

Great.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a great fan of rules,” he bites, hoping Harrington will just leave him be.

“I know. It’s your whole shtick.” So. That’s a no. Harrington shrugs.

“But sometimes rules are there for a reason,” he says and hooks his finger under the ribbon around Eddie’s neck to tug at it lightly. “To, like, not die.”

However eloquently phrased, Eddie begrudgingly admits – to himself, in his head, never out loud – that there might be a good point hidden somewhere underneath all that hair spray. He wonders if it were Hagan in Harrington’s place would there be a more hands-on approach to this warning. With Eddie being left strangled.

Quite possibly.

He’s not going to test that theory.

“Whatever his majesty wants,” Eddie says as he dutifully unties the yellow ribbon from his neck. And because he never knows when to shut up, he adds, “You don’t have to pretend to be nice, dude. I know me being in your team, like, disrupts your mojo, or whatever.”

Harrington is noticeably not smiling anymore. He doesn’t cross his arms though it looks like he really wants to. There’s a pinch between his eyebrows. It should not be attractive but, alas, Eddie is but a weak man.

“It’s supposed to be fun, man.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Eddie ends up mumbling, feeling out of energy all of a sudden. The queue of students doesn’t seem to be getting any shorter, not that it matters much because all his friends have been scattered throughout all the other teams. He moves to sit on the grass at the edge of their little Yellow group, legs spread out in front of him. The grass is dry under his palms as he leans back, and he wishes he could light an inconspicuous smoke. Even more so when a body slams into him.

“Jesus Christ, what the f-“

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” a girl yelps. “I was trying to tie my shoe but I have, like, no coordination so I kind of fell over you? I didn’t mean to do that, I’m so sorry. Balancing on one leg is so much harder than it looks. Like, honestly, how do cheerleaders even do that thing where they-“

“Whoa, hey, it’s fine,” Eddie jumps in before the girl – Robin Buckley, turns out – faints from lack of air. A yellow ribbon hangs limply off her wrist. Maybe it makes him a bad person but there is a sense of relief knowing he will not be the only ‘uncoordinated’ one on the team. Harrington is going to have an aneurysm for sure.

Robin blinks down at him, lips pulling down in a frown. “Oh, it’s you.”

Okay? Mean.

“Yes?” Whatever imaginary comradery Eddie hoped for seems off the table all of a sudden. Well, that’s a bummer. “Why the long face? Not happy to see a fellow nerd on the team?”

“You stepped on my sandwich last week.”

Ah. Well. That would do it, he supposes. The lunch break speeches… they sometimes get a little intense. Eddie gets a little intense, is what the rest of the Hellfire Club would probably say. Eddie’s shoes have been known to slam face – sole? – first into the best of what the Hawkins High cafeteria had to offer; which is not saying much, to be completely honest.

“My humble apologies,” he tries a little bow and hopes it comes off sincere. Buckley looks less than convinced. Tough crowd, what can he say?

“Alrighty, I think that’s all of us,” Harrington’s overly cheery voice thunders somewhere from above him and Eddie, like a moth drawn to a flame, has no other option but to look up. With his hands power-posed strategically onto his sinfully slim waist and the sun positioned perfectly behind him, Steve Harrington seems to have taken it upon himself to alter Eddie’s brain chemistry, braincells leaving left and right, leaking right through his ears, never to be seen again.

“You’re drooling,” Robin’s monotone informs him from his right and he promptly slams his mouth shut, even though he knows the claim is wildly exaggerated. Buckley may be the best or the worst person he’s ever met – he desperately needs to befriend her.

“First up is the relay-race. We need four people. Anyone up?”

Harrington is met with painful silence and that does dim the cheery smile a little bit. Eddie wonders if that is where the famous King Steve comes out of the hiding, all scary sharp teeth and disregard of basic human decency. He himself stills, for once not wanting to draw any attention to himself, feeling like a student who doesn’t know the correct answer which, not to brag, if you asked Higgins or any other teacher in Hawkins High, is something Eddie excels in. Curiosity, though, is a fickle thing and he’s fallen victim to it more times than he can count, and so when the uncomfortable silence drowns on, Eddie can’t help but take a look around to meet the Team Yellow, so to speak.

Fred Benson peers at him from his thick glasses. A group of scared freshman cower together. There’s a couple of band kids other than Robin Buckley who forgone glaring at the back of Eddie’s head in order to chew on her lip nervously and stare at the ground. Not a jock in sight.

Steve Harrington couldn’t have landed a worse team if he tried. Surprisingly he doesn’t look like he’s about to piss himself over it. Huh.

“Alright, well. I volunteer myself then,” he raises his hand. “That leaves three. Hm? Come on, it’s gonna be fun!”

Eddie can’t help it. He snorts. It’s loud and ugly.

“Well, I guess we have another volunteer,” Harrington preens and Eddie has to see who is idiotic enough to- It’s him, isn’t it? Harrington pulled out the classic teacher move and Eddie fell right into the trap.

“You do not want that, Harrington,” he tells him, trying his best not to show how much the intense eye contact from the jock affects him. It does not. It affects him even less when Steve juts out his bottom lip and tilts his head to the side like a goddamn Golden Retriever.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to lose?”

“It’s not about winning, it’s about teamwork,” Harrington trudges on stubbornly, sounding eerily sincere even while basically quoting every fake-cheery pamphlet in existence. It doesn’t matter how much Eddie tries to convince him it’s a bad idea – a terrible, awful, horrible idea – he doesn’t budge an inch like the stubborn asshole that he is.

“I’ll go last,” he informs Eddie and the other two unfortunate ‘volunteers’ once they reach the track.

“Hey, Harrington,” cuts a familiar voice and there’s Hagan suddenly all up Harrington’s business. “Ready to lose?”

To his credit, all Steve does is raise one eyebrow. “Did Hargrove tell you to come here, or what?”

Eddie appreciates balls on a man, literally and metaphorically, so this cheery but assertive combo is doing things to him that he is not proud of. There is a reason he avoided Steve Harrington for most of high school, and it wasn’t only because of the King Steve jock persona. Eddie may not have a good taste in men but he does have eyes.

“Whatever, man,” Hagan finishes off their little pissing contest in the meantime, strutting right back to Billy, both arms adored by blue ribbons. Harrington’s nostrils flare with each breath before he closes his eyes for a second.

Eddie isn’t known to make wise choices. One would argue bad decisions run in his blood, screwing things up his very own a generational pattern.

“Uh, you okay, man?”

Harrington’s eyes snap open. Eddie should have never opened his mouth. With Harrington’s intense eyes on him, he feels like Icarus, flying too close to the sun. Steve smiles. Eddie is going to crush and burn any minute now.

“Yeah, sorry,” he keeps his voice light but there’s underlying tension that hasn’t been there before. His eyes appear almost glazed over when he looks over to Billy Hargrove. Eddie’s gut-instinct wants to pin the strange interaction on some jock-code that he is simply not familiar with but that’s not all there is to it. Eddie has fallen victim to the rumor mill many a time during his prolonged high school career and so he tries not to lean into them too much, even when the juicy news of a fight between the former and new king of Hawkins High broke out. One look at Harrington now and he knows, deep down, the impressive shiner on Steve’s face last fall has truthfully been Hargrove’s doing.

Doesn’t matter, really, because Harrington, emanating a true father-at-vacation energy, claps his hands together with too much enthusiasm. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

Getting the show on the road, so to speak, is Abby, a freshman, who does not at all look very confident. Eddie cannot, for a fact, tell if the time passes too fast or too slow as the whistle toots and Abby is on the go, then Nigel, and then-

Eddie leans forward, bends his knees. Suddenly there’s a weight in his hand. Someone is screaming for him to ‘ go, go, go’ !

And Eddie does what he does best. He runs.

By the halfway point, his lungs are on fire, his legs feel like jello. His hair flies out of his bun and he can barely see but, he muses, he might as well try and actually finish something for once. And it’s not because Steve Harrington happens to be waiting on the other side. But maybe that’s a bonus. Who can tell?

The second his hand touches Harrington’s and passes on the stick, his legs give out from underneath him and he falls on his ass with a deeply unsatisfying thunk .

“Nice job, Munson,” says a blurry hand with a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” he says, or tries to, though it comes out slurred. A big swing of water helps.

“You okay?” Robin leans over him before taking a whiff of L’eau d’Eddie and promptly taking an out.

“Aw, I knew you cared, Buckley.”

“I just don’t want you to hurl all over my shoes,” she simply says.

Somehow they are not last. Eddie doesn’t know whether he helped at all or is it simply the power of Steve Harrington’s godlike legs that did all the heavy-lifting, but they finish off in second place, right after Hagan.

Eddie would never admit it out loud, not under threats of death, but it was…kind of fun. Satisfying.

“Eddie, you were amazing!” Harrington runs up to him, sweat pooling over his forehead and neck and Eddie has to stop himself from offering to lick it off.

“Hu-?”

“You never mentioned you’re this fast!”

“Because I’m not? Have you hit your head on the way here, or-?”

Something weird happens with Harrington’s face for a split second but it’s so quick Eddie doesn’t have the time to properly analyze it before he’s smiling again.

“Not this time, no,” he forces a chuckle. “But you had fun, right?”

Eddie sighs, flops down on the ground to make it extra dramatic. Eyes closed, he reaches out with his hand to make a tiny gap between his index finger and thumb. “Maybe a little.”

A small laugh rings above him, this time genuine, and he hates how he can feel a lazy grin tug at his lips.

Eddie misses at least one round while he lays on the grass. It’s a blissful fifteen-thirty-forty minutes and he revels in it with every whiff of a colder breeze but by minute forty-two the ground doesn’t seem nearly as comfortable as it used to right after the race. The sun assaults his eyes the moment he opens them and he swiftly sits up, trying to shake off loose twigs and dry grass that have gotten entangled with his hair.

Team Yellow has seen better days. While Eddie lounged in the grass they have become a mass of sweat and red heat-swollen cheeks. Whatever disciplines he’s missed, he is glad he has. They are not last on the leaderboard, though – by what miracle, he cannot figure out.

“Eddie!” Steve Harrington, of course, has been spared the same treatment as his team. Hair slightly whipped by the wind and rosy cheeks, he looks as though he just about stepped out of a salon. A tattered yellow-white-blue volleyball sits against his hip. “Just the guy I was looking for. You willing to give it a try?”

Eddie is not.

Not under any normal-adjacent circumstances anyway but Harrington is, consciously or not, giving him his best rendition of puppy eyes. That and Eddie can feel a heated gaze located on the back of his head coming coach’s way. No matter how tempting, he cannot afford to screw this up.

So, in the driest monotone he can muster, Eddie says, “Been waitin’ for that my whole life.”

“Cool,” is all Harrington says before his achingly warm fingers wrap themselves around Eddie’s wrist and tug him towards the court. Buckley is already standing by the net, sending Eddie a miniscule smile of encouragement when he settles on her left, Harrington just behind him.

“Was worried you were a goner by now,” Gareth calls from the other side of the net, a green ribbon tied to his wrist.

“Nah, you know me, Gare-bear,” he flexes his non-existent biceps. “I'm prime material for the next super athlete.”

Someone – Harrington – chokes and coughs behind him. Eddie refuses to look, contribute to the hot and sticky flush of embarrassment that settles over his organs like slime. He has a reputation to uphold, though, so when Gareth raises his eyebrow, silently asking if he is okay – in this team, with King Steve, here and now – Eddie simply rolls his eyes and conspicuously whispers ‘Little Miss Primadonna’, their little nickname for King Steve back in the day.

He doesn’t like how instead of feeling lighter he just feels sick afterwards.

A resounding whistle starts the first set.

Eddie has forgotten how violent and competitive volleyball can get. He jumps away every time the ball comes anywhere near him, Harrington’s sweaty body miraculously appearing right there and then to save the day. It’s maybe the first time today that he can see blips of annoyance on the jock’s face but then as soon as it appears it smooths out and Steve graces him with yet another smile.

“You don’t have to be afraid of the ball,” Harrington off-handedly tells him in-between sets.

“Yeah, well, you tend to start feeling a little bit wary about it after you’ve been hit in the face a few times,” Eddie can’t help but bite back. Harrington looks sad all of a sudden, as though his friends haven’t been the ones to attempt their best at making Eddie’s face concave. He can’t help but yelp when a hairy mass – Steve’s arm – settles over his back and shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” Harrington teases but there’s a sincere note in his voice. “I won’t let any balls come near you.”

Harrington – blessed, innocent, Harrington – is thankfully too straight to realize the innuendo he accidentally made but Eddie is most definitely not, face red as he mumbles under his breath ‘I mean, some balls are fine.”

Thankfully he does not hear that either.

Steve keeps his promise with surprising accuracy; no volleyball flies anywhere near Eddie and Harrington is always close by. Which should not bring as much comfort to him as it does. Especially considering Eddie still is unable to figure out why – why is Harrington this nice? Why does he care about Eddie at all? Part of him worries it’s all an act, a grand performance by one King Steve, with a grand finale that promises pain and humiliation right at the crescendo.

Nothing happens.

Well, they lose. Spectacularly. One game, then another, then a third one.

Amid this disaster and despite them being the singularly least athletic team possible, Steve Harrington remains an encouraging and patient captain. Not once does he yell or complain when the majority of the team scrambles away from the ball instead of towards it. Surprising, when Harrington has spent years under the wing of Coach Daniels as the Hawkins High very own basketball team captain.

“You’re good at this,” Eddie thinks out loud, promptly pursing his lips because he did not mean to actually say it. It is in particularly bad self-preservation taste to give a jock more ammo.

“I promised,” is all Steve says with a wink. And for a second, a blink-and-you-miss-it, his eyes go up and down along Eddie’s body, and- But that’s impossible. Harrington is not- He wouldn’t have-

It’s a preposterous cherry on the wild-buck cake he’s been offered today. There must have been a ball hurled his way at one point or another, punching him into another dimension that is similar enough yet decidedly feels a little bit off at every step. He’s rooted in his spot like the idiot that he is. What finally breaks him from the self-induced coma is what caused it in the first place - his ears catch the melodic tune of a Harrington laugh and, just like that, from feet above the ground he falls back to Earth, popping like a balloon with a gun.

For all Buckley piss-poor attempts at appearing done with it all, she sure looks chummy with Steve Harrington all of a sudden, and he does with her as well. It was foolish, stupidly childish, to assume the jock’s attention was for Eddie and Eddie alone.

Harrington pulling out his patented charm with Buckley the same way he did a second ago with Eddie feels like a light stab in his chest. What twists it is them looking Eddie’s way, red cheeks and mirth in their eyes, and letting out a short but audible laugh.

“I’m telling you, dingus.”

“God, shut up,” but Harrington laughs as he says it, even when he elbows Robin right in the boob.

Dead-set on keeping his eyes on the ground, Eddie tries to move past them. He doesn’t get far.

“Hey, Eddie, I’m trying to convince Robin to go for tug of war,” Harrington tells him for some fucking reason.

“No way, dingus.”

“She’s stronger than she looks,” he adds, poking Buckley in the bicep-less arm. “From carrying that tuba around.”

“Trumpet.”

I haul up the amp at every Corroded Coffin show, Eddie wants to say – would that impress you?

He’s pathetic. He’s fallen from the high pedestal he self-appointed himself at – above the bullshit popularity contest and suffocating do’s and don’ts of small-town’s high school lore – right at the feet of the walking and breathing representation of everything he resents about how the world works, and-

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbles.

A good smoke is exactly what Eddie needs right now. Fill his being with nothing but puffs of smoke. Students and teachers and even some parents roam around the school grounds but his trusty spot behind the gym is free of the intruders. Two cigarettes in, he refuses to feel sorry for himself any longer.

He’s not going to dwell on something that was a pipe dream to begin with. Not too long anyway. Whatever. He’s fine.

He is .

Steve seems wary of him when he gets back but he brushes it off as well as he can and gets in line behind Fred Benson instead. It’s long jump time.

“Robin’s pretty cool, right?” comes a voice behind him. Eddie yelps.

“Jesus Christ, warn a guy.”

Steve has the audacity to look a little sheepish, hand going to scratch at the back of his neck. “Sorry, man.”

Silence.

“Turns out we have some things in common,” he says, then. And stares. For a long time.

“Okay?”

What does he want Eddie to say? You have my blessing? Congrats?

Steve looks slightly discouraged from continuing his ventures but seems willing to trudge on, for whatever reason. “Maybe-“

“Munson, you’re up!”

Oh, thank God .

Eddie may not be the fastest or the strongest but he has years of avoiding bullies under his belt. That is to say, if he wants to avoid someone, he will find a way to become, well, not invisible, but unreachable at the least. It does not help that at this point he understands Harrington’s newfound obsession with him even less. Maybe for a second Eddie could have thought that – well, that doesn’t matter.

By hour eight and with only one event left, Eddie feels pretty confident he’s going to survive the whole thing after all and not even be on the losing team somehow. That is until Coach Jenkins announces the farewell match.

“Dodgeball! Yellow against blue,” and whistles loud and clear, no room for complaints.

It all goes surprisingly well until it doesn’t. Until there’s a ball flying his way. Until he faceplants into next week.

Of course it’s Steve Harrington who insists on patching him up in the nurse’s office. “I’m the captain,” he says before anyone else can offer. Not that they were people scrambling to do so, really.

“I’m sorry,” Harrington adds when an icepack settles on the side of Eddie’s head once they arrive.

“What for? ‘Far as I can tell it wasn’t you who threw that,” Eddie narrows his eyes. “Right?”

“No, of course not, Eddie, I would never-“ Steve stops himself and Eddie wants so badly to point out that he ‘would ever’, in fact he ‘did ever’, but that would be a lie. King Steve never stooped as law as the likes of Tommy Hagan or other low-esteem high school bullies. King Steve was always above it all, too high and mighty to bother with mundane shit such as head shooting a nerd with a basketball in P.E. or offering a swirlie. Doesn’t make it right, doesn’t make him any less of an asshole for standing by and watching it happen.

But Harrington hasn’t been King Steve for a while now, has he?

It’s morally questionable. It’s confusing.

Eddie thinks he might be having a concussion.

“I promised,” Steve says instead, and Eddie is really even more convinced a visit to the ER is going to be necessary because- “That I wouldn’t let any ball come near you.”

Ah.

A strange oath to so stubbornly hang onto all things considered.

While Eddie struggles to find an appropriate response Steve decides to take it upon himself to start cleaning the scraped knee with a feather-light touch and precision that comes as a surprise. A minute stretches into five, into ten, as he works, clearing his throat at the end.

“I’ve been told that I’ve been,” he makes quotation marks in the air. “acting like a weirdo.”

“Ah. Well. Who am I to disagree with the King?” Eddie juts out his bottom lip and Steve snorts. Clamps a hand to his mouth, embarrassed, though a glint in his eyes betrays him.

“What’s so funny, Harrington?”

“Nothing. Just – I really do have a type,” Steve shrugs.

“Women that are probably too good for you?”

“Mmm, that, too, but also,” he grabs one of the loose strands that have escaped Eddie’s bun and twirls it between his fingers. Heat rushes to his ears fast and warm and he can barely make out what Steve says next. But he does and- “Cute pout. Curly hair. Beautiful brown eyes. Super smart.”

Eddie swallows. “Steve.”

“Not ‘Harrington’ anymore?”

“If this is a joke-“

“It’s not,” Steve’s hand quickly links and tugs at his. “I promise it’s not.”

“I’m a little lost, dude, not gonna lie.”

“The whole day, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. You’re… pretty, so pretty. And Robin insisted that you like me, too,” Steve slows down, disentangles his hands from Eddie’s. “But – did I misread this? I- Don’t leave me hanging like that, man.”

Eddie can see the growing panic in Steve’s eyes, desperation in his voice. He can’t help it, his mind comes to a shattering halt.

“Wait, hold on, I- You’re being serious?” Steve nods. “Okay, shit. I-uh. Fuck.”

“This was a bad idea, wasn't it?” Steve fists his hand in his hair, making a mess of it and oh, Eddie cannot allow that, not unless he’s the one that- “I’m so sorry, Eddie-“

One hand on a grey shirt, one with rings getting tangled in-between strands of puffy hair, two pair of lips collide for just a split second. Only a quick pause follows before they are reunited again, and again, and-

“Does that mean,” Steve asks, breathless, between peppering kisses. “that you’ll go out with me?”

“Keep the kisses coming and you have yourself a deal.”

Steve leans away and smirks. Eddie can’t help the little embarrassing whine that leaves his lips. “We stopped. Why did we stop?”

“Told you it’s all about teamwork.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #platonic stobin

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