#my brain keeps trying to file it away as a waking-world memory instead of a dream-world one

[semiotomatics]

slept like 15 hours, which is great, but also (seemingly) spent that entire time having one long, incredibly vivid nightmare, which is. not so great

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed. 

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions. 

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this. 

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the  other side of the bed across from you. 

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot. 

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented. 

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.  

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off. 

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.  

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside. 

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same.  Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

 “I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all. 

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection. 

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list! 

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore​, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat​, @yutasnabi​

[imkylotrash]

Meet Me In The Hallway (5)

Pairing: Sky x reader

Summary: You confront Stella asking her to let Sky go one last time but she refuses, leaving you with no other option. You have to tell him the truth yourself. 

Tagging: @bitchwhytho @music-of-melody @grey-girl @intoanothermind @artsyle​ @kaii-ya​

Series Masterlist

A/N The secret is something I made up entirely to add to the drama and is in no way part of the actual series. 

You wake up sweating. Sky has completely engulfed you with his body and adding the duvet in the summer time is just asking to get a heatstroke. Carefully, you untangle yourself needing a glass of water in order for you to cool down. When you return, you notice he’s awake. 

“I thought you might have left,” he said holding out his arms for you to come back and join him again but something stops you. There’s still a massive secret between the two of you and you’re worried it might tear him from you. 

“I needed some water,” you smile but you don’t return to bed. You know if you get back into his arms your resolve will fade away and you won’t talk to Stella today but you need it to stop. Either she backs off or you’ll tell Sky yourself. 

“I have to go do something today. But I’m hoping it’ll make things better,” you say probably confusing him more than explaining. But you’re hoping he won’t have to know what happens today even though your brain tells you that your hope is feeble. Once you’ve changed and promised Sky that you’ll return soon, you head out to find Stella. It’s not hard to find the princess of Solaria but it is hard to get her attention. She’s making a point out of ignoring you instead talking about right up until you grab hold of her wrist letting just a little ice freeze her skin. 

“What the hell?” she yelps forcefully ripping her arm out of your grasp. Her skin has gone pale where you held on but you know it’ll only take minutes for her to get warm again. 

“I need to talk to you.” At least she excuses herself from the group of fairies following you to a more private setting.

“What do you want?” she asks inspecting her nails to appear unbothered but you know your little magic trick back there rattled her. She’s not used to other fairies standing up to her having lived on the respect for her title as princess for a long time. 

“I want you to forget what that file said about me and let me be with Sky. You gave it your best shot but it didn’t work. Let him go. Please.” You’re ready to do some begging and grovelling to make her comply but you quickly realise that it’s futile. 

“I’m sorry, you don’t really have any leverage here. And you certainly don’t get to decide when it’s over between me and Sky.” She has that sickly smile plastered on her face that you have no doubt her mother made her perfect when she was a child.

“But Sky gets to decide that. He doesn’t want you. Why are you trying so hard to stay with someone who doesn’t want you back?” You know this isn’t the best approach but you feel like you’re going insane even having this conversation. You can’t force someone to love you no matter how much you love them.

“Sky doesn’t know what he wan-”

“He wants me!” you yell not even caring who hears you at this point. You know there’s no going back from this. She’s going to tell the school about your parents and all you can do is make sure you tell Sky first. 

“Careful, Y/N. I already blinded one girl.” Her hands glow with light orbs but you’re not worried. One flick of your wrist and her hands will be too frozen to even perform magic. Defensive magic at its best and Stella knows that too. 

“You know what? I don’t care. You want to tell the school? Go ahead.” You turn your back to her and walk away. All the way to your room fairies point fingers and whisper all because you’re a changeling and you imagine it’ll be much worse tomorrow. Sky is right where you left him though this time he’s freshly showered. 

“Did you do the mysterious thing?” he asks you with a smile closing the book he’d been reading while waiting for you to return. You’re not sure how to start this but you pray he won’t be disgusted by you when you’re done. 

“I need to tell you something,” you whisper and he turns serious instantly. You walk over to sit on the edge of the bed without so much as look in his direction. You’re not sure you’ll be able to look at him at all once you start talking. 

“My parents gave me up. That’s how I became a changeling but the reason they gave me up is because they decided that the fairy magic wasn’t enough. They turned into witches. Dark, evil witches.” You take a deep breath to steady yourself thankful that Sky stays quiet until you’re done. Because admitting to your parents being witches isn’t the worst thing you’ll have to admit to. 

“When I say evil, I mean really evil. They started a coven so they could go to war against Solaria. We read about it last year, remember? The Great Fall. That was my parents. They killed a lot of good people that day,” you say finally looking over at Sky. You search his face for any sign that could indicate how he feels but he keeps his face blank like a canvas. 

“How long have you known?” You have to stop yourself from laughing because you’ve just told him that your parents gave you up in order to take over the Otherworld as witches and do horrible things to fairies from all the realms but he’s concerned with how long you’ve known?

“A couple of years now. Dowling helped me do the research when she found me.” You wish you could read his mind and figure out what he’s thinking. Is he scared? Does he want to run away? 

“My father was killed in battle but my mother was captured. She’s still alive as far as I know trapped in a maximum-security prison in Solaria. They say she’s gone completely insane.” You’re terribly ashamed of the family you come from. If you could’ve gone through life without anyone knowing where you came from, you would’ve been fine with that. You don’t want people to know because you wish you didn’t know yourself. 

“So, you’ve known this about yourself for years but you never told me? Not after we said I love you? Not after I bared my soul and shared my deepest thoughts and memories? You were just keeping that piece of information to yourself?” Now he looks angry but you’re not sure what he’s actually angry about. You’re about to say something but he isn’t done. 

“Did you not trust me? Maybe you didn’t think to bother because this thing between us wouldn’t survive anyway.” 

“No! That’s not why I didn’t tell you,” you exclaim confused as to how he even came to that conclusion. Does he not understand the kind of shame that comes with something like that? His father died a hero, he’s never had to deal with these kinds of emotions. 

“Then why didn’t you? You could’ve trusted me. I would never tell anyone.” That’s when you realise that he’s not angry, he’s hurt. Hurt that the one person in the world he thought kept no secrets was keeping a massive secret from him. 

“Stella found out and threatened to tell the entire school starting with you. And so I tried to hide it and stay away but I couldn’t. I had to tell you so that you heard it from me and not her.” He’s quiet for a second processing what you just told him.

“So, the only reason you’re telling me this now is because Stella found out? You would’ve lived your entire life not telling me and feel fine about that?” He’s looking at you like you’re a stranger and you can’t blame him. He’s right. He’s been nothing but honest with you admitting every thought he’s ever had and here you are hiding a huge part of your history. The worst part is that you can’t even argue against what he’s saying because you can’t in good conscience say that you would’ve told him if Stella hadn’t forced your hand. 

“I need some air.” He gets up and grabs his jacket before heading for the door. 

“Sky, please stay. Let’s talk about this,” you plead hoping he’ll turn around and tell you everything is going to be okay. 

“If I stay, I’m going to say things I regret.” 

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers Part 8 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.7k

tw: dark content (self-harm)

masterlist

a/n: By no means do I condone self-harm or want to glorify it in the light of this chapter. As a person who struggled with physical self-harm in her early teens, I know the destructive nature of this type of activity. However, as my characters are not perfect and complicated, I see this particular mode of action as something she would try to do in order to alleviate her pain and confusion. If you have questions or concerns, my inbox is always open to having a discussion about it.

If you so wish, you may skip this chapter altogether. There will be a recap on the next one if you choose to skip for your mental health. Take care of yourselves and see you soon. (ALSO, I know I promised smut but I gotta give y'all a raincheck this go-round. SORRY PLS DON'T KILL ME)

You're on your forty-seventh file of scandals, coverups, and secret dossiers that you finally feel it. The fabric of your identity begins to unravel right before your eyes.

Everything you've known is a lie.

The CSB has covered up so many things. So many lives lost. So many people forced to flee. So many families ripped apart--

An email makes its way over to the server, and you open it, the words across the screen coming from Suguru.

I know it's late, but send over Yu Haibara's files when you can.

You hit the reply button and begin to type out: "You mean the boy you killed?" but you stop yourself, deleting the words rapidly. Instead, you attach the files and send them over, not even bothering to look at them. You can't do it. Not another file could be stored away in the annals of your brain.

Nothing is as it seems anymore. The lies... they pile up in your mind, flooding the spaces where you used to hold what you thought was true, what you thought was real. Now, they're overflowing out of your brain and into your heart and soul, plaguing you like the nightmares that face you down night after night, more like demons that lurk in the corners of your mind than full file cabinets.

You always wake up in a tangle of sheets and sweat, one of your various enemies' faces hovering over you right before you stare down the barrel of a gun and --

You stumble out of the chair, eyes wet with tears, and go to the sink in the bathroom to wash your face. After you splash water on your skin, you look up at your reflection, anger rolling through you at the way you look. Weak.

You're fucking weak.

The voice in your head that usually told you that you were doing okay, that you had it all under control, is now turning on you, spitting nasty words that stick in between the synapses of your brain a muddy your rational thoughts.

The voices rise to a fever pitch, and you suddenly see red, the entirety of the world descending into blood-colored madness. The shattering of the glass mirror only becomes a reality when you're standing above the sink, chest heaving as your thoughts silence one by one, like shutting off lights in a house.

But only one stays behind as a shard of the mirror clinks into the sink.

Escape.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

You could get rid of the feelings here. You could get rid of the thoughts. You could escape. Why hadn't you thought about this before?

"Do it."

Your fingers grip the jagged shard of glass carefully, and before you can stop yourself, you drag it across the inside of your wrist, end to end, leaving behind a red line of blood that immediately blooms. Crimson dots drop into the sink, and you stare at the color, mesmerized by the way the blood runs down your arm and into the porcelain bowl. But there's no relief.

No sense of freedom.

Maybe you didn't do it hard enough?

Maybe you didn't--

The door to your room slams open, and you turn your head just as Suguru comes rushing into the bathroom. The shard of glass is still in your hand, as well as the blood running down your arm, and Suguru catches this immediately.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you turn to him, shard extended.

"Don't come any closer."

"Y/n," he calmly whispers. "You don't look so good."

"I wonder why that is," you reply, and Suguru stares back at you, hands raised in surrender.

"What're you doing?"

"What does it look like, Suguru?" you state in a trance. Your bullet wound begins to throb dully, but you ignore it, just like you're ignoring the blood dripping onto the tile flooring.

"Y/n, let's think about this."

"I don't want to think anymore!" The shrill scream is loud enough to make Suguru flinch, and you softly repeat, "I don't want to think anymore," over and over again as tears run down your face.

"I know," Suguru whispers. "I know. Will you let me help you?" You hiccup and drop the piece of glass to the floor, dissolving in a heap of tears and moans. You feel hands pulling you up from the floor and into strong arms, your head being cradled against a broad chest you've felt before. "Go ahead," Suguru encourages you. "Cry it out."

He carries you to another room in the building in silence, laying you on a firm bed and disappearing as you heave painful sobs into the sheets.

"Everything... hurts..." you gasp, and when Suguru reappears with a white bundle of cloth, a bandage roll, and some water, he nods.

"We're going to make it better, don't worry." He takes your injured arm and carefully wipes away the blood, examing the cut slowly. "Doesn't need stitches, thankfully." He turns to open the water bottle and hands it to you, silently telling you to drink while he bandages your wrist.

You drink the water greedily then lean back on the headboard, eyes closing down as Suguru works diligently on your wound. And then you remember the first time he did this for you and the mistake you made in your pridefulness.

"Thank you," you murmur, and Suguru looks up at your face, finally seeing some form of clarity cross your tear-streaked cheeks.

"You're welcome," he replies tenderly. "I have to keep you safe, remember? I promised you that I would." You don't answer him, but he finishes at that exact moment anyways, standing and placing the remnants of the bandage roll on the nightstand. The wound is now covered up completely, with no sign of blood seeping through the cotton and staining the white cloth dark red.

You watch as Suguru crawls into the bed beside you, sighing deeply as he runs his fingers through his locks. "Should I stay awake with you or do you want to try to sleep?"

"Sleep," you answer - albeit not confidently - and the black-eyed man obliges, pulling the thin sheet over you.

"I'll be right here," he affirms, but you reach out your uninjured arm and touch his hand. He instantly turns his palm up to let you grab his fingers, and you pull him closer to you in the king-sized bed.

"Hold me." A second passes with no movement, and Suguru whispers,

"Are you sure?" You nod, and he wordlessly scoots closer, wrapping an arm around you as you nestle into his side with your bandaged hand resting on his chest. His fingers rub a soft pattern up and down your skin, soothing you to the brink of sleep. "I've got you. We'll deal with everything else in the morning," Suguru murmurs as you slip off into a dreamless - and nightmare-less - sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

Morning comes and goes.

Midday arrives, and you awaken from your terrorless sleep still encased in Suguru's grasp. Your eyes flick up to his face, which is peaceful in the midday light streaming in from the windows. The Leader of the Fallen Sun District is asleep and dead to the world around him, but the sound of his breathing lets you know he's on the brink of waking up.

Part of you doesn't want him to. You want to lay there without any responsibilities to him, without any concern, or further harm to either one of you. Maybe if you continued to sleep, all of this would become a distant memory. All of this would go away, and you could go back to living in ignorance.

But Suguru's stirring makes you stiffen, and you feel his arms tighten around you before sliding away.

"You're awake."

"Yeah," you whisper, and he sits up, pulling his knees to his chest.

"We need to talk about last night." You sit up as well, staring at the edge of the bed blankly. "Why didn't you tell someone about your declining mental health?"

"I didn't realize it until it was too late," you admit, looking at the bandage on your wrist. "But I won't be doing that again."

"Doesn't matter," Suguru interjects, looking over at you. You choose to avoid his gaze and stare at your feet, inhaling deeply. "I have to have someone watch you now. I want you to be safe, and now I'm not sure if I can ensure that without some oversight on my part."

"No," you exhale quickly, looking over at him in fear. "I'm better now, I promise."

"I'll have someone move a few of your things over here. That way I can keep an eye on you, just in case." Suguru continues, standing from his position on the bed. "I won't bother you. But I made a promise to you, and I'm going to keep it at all costs." He turns back to you, stating, "Today we'll take a day off and go into the town. I've been wanting to show you around for a while anyway."

You conclude the argument is over when he places a kiss on your temple, then walks into his bathroom, shutting the door and leaving you on the bed alone.

_____________________________________________________________

A car picks both of you up from the building, and when you slide into the backseat, Suguru points to the expanse in the distance.

"Take us to the marketplace." The driver nods, scars running up and down his pale face and his blue eyes looking up at you in the rearview mirror. Does this man even know that he's sitting next to the leader of the Fallen Sun district? Or is Kenjaku a faceless man, hiding behind walls of ones and zeroes?

The scenes that pass by you look identical to those of the city you know and love. There are children playing on the sidewalks, people carrying groceries, life carrying on as if the majority of their names aren't on some rejected list of people who defected from their previous society. Suguru notices your awe at the way things are, and looks over at you, smiling brightly.

"You'd be surprised what you can build from ashes, y/n."

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23 @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on @sammytamaki @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling

[bluewhale52]

RED (M)

Things you need to know about this fic:

1. Hobi is tied up during sex 2. This piece is inspired by a prompt I saw on @creativepromptsforwriting: “Can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?” “Babe, I’m a demon. What do you expect me to do?” (Submitted by: welcome-tothe-mystery-shack)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x female reader

WC: 6.4k

Rating: Explicit. NO MINORS ALLOWED!

Genre: idol!au, fantasy!au, supernatural!au, estabished relationship,

Warning: one of the characters is a demon, mention of Hobi’s red suit (yes, THAT one), oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, kinda rough sex but not that crazy rough, slight choking, for once Hoseok is not the dom.

A/N : thank you to the lovely @illneverrecover who really boosted my confidence and enjoyed the story when I wasn’t even sure about it!

Taglist: @gee-nee​

Just over two years ago, Hoseok met you in an upscale club.He remembers the moment he saw you as if it was only yesterday. He remembers seeing you all by yourself at the bar in the VIP section, your finger circling the mouth of your martini glass lazily. He remembers the blood red dress you wore- how it was so conservative that it covered you up completely, but it hugged you in all the right places. He remembers the way you looked at him- as if you were hungry for him- and it still sends shivers down his spine to this day. 

You approached him that night- nothing unusual for him, men and women flock to him because of his idol status- and he was instantly enraptured. The piercing gaze you gave him rendered him immobile. The swaying of your hips hypnotized him completely that he forgot where he was. And somehow, SOMEHOW, he found his members all gone- to the bar, to the dance floor, to the restroom, who knew. Then you sat yourself next to him, your long fingers trailed from his shoulder down to his thigh. Your mouth whispered such filthy things in his ears and he thought he was going to come in his pants.

Hoseok agreed too easily at your invitation to go back to your place. He had never gone to anyone’s home for a hookup- it was simply too dangerous- but he did not even think twice when you invited him. There was something about how you drew out his desires, almost as if you were feeding off them to satiate your carnal hunger. Though the night was a blur to him, he remembers the lustful, searing passion he had with you. He also remembers waking Jimin up when he returned to the dorm in the early morning, begging him to help cover up all the marks you had left on his neck and collarbones; he was too embarrassed to face the stylists later that day. 

That one night hook-up turned into several nights, and ignoring Namjoon’s warning, Hoseok continued to see you whenever he was in Seoul. Before he knew it, he started developing feelings for you, and he gathered his courage to ask you out on a proper date.

He could see the shock in your face when he asked, but you eventually agreed on one condition. He had told you he was going to New Zealand for Bon Voyage, and you dared him to do a bungee jump there. If he did it, he got himself a date with you. 

And a date was won, for he faced his fears and took the plunge. You both agreed to have your first date in your apartment, a place you both were comfortable in and also for privacy obviously. Dinner was delicious, conversation flew effortlessly, and Hoseok’s feelings grew even stronger. 

He confessed to you as he was pinning you down on your sofa, kissing you hungrily and passionately. You pushed him away, looking worried and confused.

“Babe, are you all right?” He stroked your hair. “I’m sorry that came out of nowhere, I just wanted to let you know, I really want us to pursue this.” 

His heart dropped when you looked away. Then in a small whisper, you replied to him.

“Hoseok, I’m a demon.”

Hoseok stared at you for a few seconds before bursting out laughing. He looked at you once his laughter had subsided, then laughed again, albeit a little more unsurely at the sight of your serious expression.

“Wait, no, there’s no such thing.” He paused. “Right?”

“I really am a demon, Hoseok.”

He eyed you skeptically, figuring out which way your joke was going to. 

“Seeing is believing, right?” You snapped your finger and produced a red flame on your palm. 

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “How.. how did you do that? That’s such a cool magic trick!”

However, he gulped audibly when your facial expression fell. Anyone would be excited to show off a cool magic trick, but you looked… dejected? 

“Hoseok,” you said softly. “You trust me, don’t you? You know that you’re safe, as long as you’re with me.”

“O...kay….” he chuckled nervously.

You stood up and took a deep breath. The apartment turned pitch dark, and your body was bathed in red flame, providing the only source of light. Your eyes turned red, staring him down as your mouth turned into a wicked smile. Hoseok sat frozen on the sofa, fear paralyzing him, finally realizing this was indeed no mere magic trick. Then you raised your arms, and luminous green shadows appeared behind you, ugly and vicious. You leaned down toward Hoseok, and he immediately tried to back away. With a gesture of your hand, two streaks of green slithered around his body, holding him in place. 

“Trust me, Hoseok.” you whispered, then you placed your palm over his heart, and to his horor, you drew out a thin black smoke out of his chest. You then twirled it around your long finger. “This is fear,” you explained, “I pulled this out of you, just a little bit, not all, because I… well I like it when you’re a scaredy cat.”

The green shadows were growling, hungry. “They like negative emotions. Fear, jealousy, greed, they feed on them.”  You blew the black smoke towards the shadows behind you. The green shadows screeched and fought to gobble up the smoke in no time, then you sent them back to the dark abyss with a soft chant. The light came back on, and the flame around your body disappeared. 

You turned to look at Hoseok, once everything was back to normal. He was patalyzed still- eyes unblinking, ears ringing, heart beating fast and brain malfunctioning over what he had just witnessed. 

“You… you’re..” he finally snapped out of his shock, “you’re a demon.”

You nodded and kneeled before him. “I am, Hoseok. And I think I have feelings for you too.”

Hoseok gasped. Then it all went black. 

Hoseok finally came to, and he found himself in your bed, tucked underneath your blanket. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes and his head. He tried to recall what happened before he fainted, but he was distracted by the sounds from  outside your bedroom.

Hoseok gingerly got out of bed and walked out, still rubbing his head. Then he found you in the living room with... Yoongi?

“Hyung?”

Yoongi gave him a silent wave as a way of greeting.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok sat down on the sofa. He noticed you were keeping your distance from him. “What’s going on?”

“Hoseok,” you called his name gently, “do you remember what happened?”

Hoseok tilted his head, trying to recall. He remembered having dinner with you, kissing you, and then…. Hoseok recoiled at the memory of red flame and green shadows. You winced at his reactions.

“Hoseok, please calm down, don’t faint on me again.” You pleaded. 

Hoseok snapped his head towards Yoongi. “Hyung?”

“She told me what happened, Seok-ah, down to the scary bits that knocked you out.”

Hoseok found your eyes again. “So, it’s true then, you’re really a demon?”

“Yeah…” you shrugged your shoulders. “Technically a succubus, but I prefer being called a demon.”

“How… what... “ Hundreds of questions ran through his mind. He looked back at Yoongi for help, and he was shocked to see how unaffected Yoongi looked. “Hyung, did you know all this while? And, why are you here? How can you be so calm?” Hoseok gasped. “Wait, are YOU a demon too?”

“Weirder things have happened.” Yoongi answered nonchalantly.

“Did she show you all the flames and shadows? And they didn’t bother you?”

Yoongi shook his head. “She said I’d be safe, so no, it didn’t bother me much. A bit scary, yes, but I was okay.”

Hoseok stared at Yoongi in amazement, confused at how he was taking the news so easily. So instead, Hoseok stood up to pace back and forth, trying to gather his thoughts. “Okay. So you’re a demon, technically a succubus…”

You nodded.

“... so, did you ever suck my soul? Or tried to? Do I still have a soul?”

You wrung your hands. “I never did, well, I mean, when I first saw you in that club, yeah I wanted your soul so badly because I could smell its purity. You were so tempting. And I did take you home planning to suck it out of you, but I couldn’t do it. Not that night and any nights after.”

Hoseok looked  at you, hearing what you said but not fully comprehending it. He looked at Yoongi for help, but his friend simply shrugged again. “I admit this is a lot to take in, but, she hasn’t hurt you so far.”

“Okay, so you don’t want my soul.” You shook your head. “And what about my members? Do you want their souls?”

“No, of course not! If I wanted theirs, I’d have slept with every single one of them. And I didn’t. Nor do I ever plan to. I just… I just want to be with you.”

Hoseok swallowed hard at your confession. Despite everything that had been revealed to him, he still wanted to be with you too. But he had so many questions yet to be answered. “So, you’ve sucked other people’s souls before?” 

“Well yeah, that’s my job. I have a monthly quota to meet.”

“A quota? What do you mean, a quota?” Hoseok asked, his curiosity peaked. 

“Do you honestly think I’m in this world, just for fun? If I want to keep this amazing apartment, and the amazing fashion labels I have in my wardrobe, I have to work for it.”

“How does it work?” Hoseok asked. “You just go around seducing humans, then suck their souls and... file your report?”

“Basically, yes. But, I don’t do all that seducing anymore, not after I met you.” Hoseok’s eyebrows rose. “I don’t want to have sex with anyone else. So I had to find other ways to keep my job performance up.”

“So what do you do now?” It was Yoongi who spoke.

“Well, I don’t like being called a succubus because, honestly I’m much more than that. Since I don’t partake in any.... activities… anymore, now I’m more like a wicked cupid, if that makes sense?”

Hoseok pinched his nose. “It doesn’t; explain to me? To us?”

You took a deep breath. “Basically, I play matchmaker to cheaters. For example, I set  up a man cheating on his wife with a woman cheating on her husband. I do that a lot these days. It’s boring, and their souls are already corrupted, so they’re not valued as much as purer souls.” you pouted. “It’s a lot more work but it’s the only way to keep myself just for you.”

“So you just make people have sex with each other?” Hoseok asked.

“Yeah, I have to watch them do it,” you made a disgusted face. “It’s easiest to suck their souls out in the moments when they lose control, you know?”  

“So… you watch them?” Hoseok was embarrassed that he was more intrigued than disturbed. 

“Yes....” You narrowed your eyes at him, “... do you... want to watch too?”

Hoseok blushed at your question. “No, no, I don’t, of course not!” He paused for a second. “But, if I wanted to... I could?”

“OKAY!” Yoongi piped up before neither Hoseok nor you spoke. “So the gist of this conversation is that you” Yoongi pointed at you, “are a demon who doesn’t do all the demonic things anymore so that you can build a relationship with him. Correct?“  

You answered Yoongi with a nod, and Hoseok felt a squeeze around his heart; he felt happy that you were willing to make changes to be with him. His brain, however, kept sounding the alarm, screaming at him to step out of this abnormality. 

Hoseok excused himself, and then dragged Yoongi to your bathroom. 

“Hyung, this is crazy, right? I’m crazy that I still want to be with her right?” 

“Honestly, Hobi. If you want to be with her, be with her. If she wanted you soulless, or dead, she’d have done it a long time ago. You were so into her before finding out her true-self. And so far, I think she’s been upfront, as honest as she could.”

“You’re right,” Hoseok paced in the small space. “I do like her, a lot. And I don’t feel… threatened? Or scared? Like it’s a shock, but I’m surprisingly okay with all this.”

“Good, then. So you guys just need to work it out. Maybe ask her what her weakness is, you know? Every demon has that one weakness, right? It’ll be like an exchange of trust. You trust her not to take your soul, and she trusts you not to annihilate her.”

“Hyung, that can’t be healthy, to hold each other at gunpoint.” Hoseok chuckled nervously, but made a mental note to bring it up to you. “Hang on, why did she call you here?”

“I’m the most sensible of the seven of us.” Yoongi answered confidently. “Would you rather Jin Hyung be here screaming his heart out?”

Hoseok waved Yoongi off. “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks for being here, Hyung.”

Yoongi opened the door. “I’m leaving now, You guys talk it out, okay?”

Hoseok stayed with you that night, asked you all the questions needed to be asked, and when the sun rose, you became his girlfriend.

“Hobi Hyung!” Jimin bellows from the door. “Noona is here!”

You follow him inside the apartment. Once you and Hoseok became official, he was only too excited to introduce you to his members. Your real identity is still a secret however, except to Yoongi. 

You linger in the kitchen, waiting for your boyfriend. “So, where are you guys going today?” Jimin asks.

“Just dinner, at that Japanese place he went to a few weeks ago. Then maybe some night shopping” 

“You know,” Jimin rubs his chin, “I don’t understand how Hyung does it. Whenever he’s out with you, no one, and I mean, no one is able to spot him.”

You shrug. “He disguises himself well behind his mask and hat.”

“Yeah right,” Jimin snickers as Hoseok comes out of his room. “You’re telling me no one recognises him in THAT? That screams J-Hope of BTS, Noona.”

You look over to where Jimin is pointing. Hoseok is wearing a bright blue jacket with a large FILA across the back. His beanie is maroon red, and his pants are moss green with colourful accessories and pins. His signature little bag is slung across his chest; today he has chosen yellow with rainbow flowers. He will probably wear his orange sneakers to complete the look.  

“Then I guess we’re just lucky, Chim.” You beam at Hoseok as he comes nearer. You are lucky indeed. 

“Ready?” He asks after giving you a kiss. You nod. “Don’t wait up for us, Jimin.”

Jimin eyes you playfully. “Not planning too, Hyung. Have fun!”

You and Hoseok walk hand-in-hand leaving his apartment and down to the parking lot. Once inside his car, he asks. “What were you talking about with Jimin, babe?”

“Oh you know,” you fasten your seatbelt. “He wonders why no one recognises you whenever we venture outside.”

Hoseok chuckles as he starts the engine. “Well, the last time anyone tried to take photos of us, their phones burst in flame and you sent them to have an orgy in a dingy bar.”

You cackle. “That was fun. And it helped me meet my target. I should do that again sometime soon.”

“Well, can we go on one date without you causing someone trauma?" Hoseok asks.

"Babe, I'm a demon. What do you expect me to do?" You retort. “If they don’t bother you, I won’t do anything to them, you know that.”

“I never thought I’d have a guardian demon.” Hoseok laughs heartily. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

You shoot him a sweet smile. “But you know, I do miss torturing a human. I miss their cries, their patheticness. How they promise me the world if only I would give them release. I miss that power.”

“Well,” your boyfriend clears his throat. “You can torture me. Like not that painful kind of torture. But you can make me cry and beg.”

You snap your head towards him. It takes all the power within you to tame the ferocious desires suddenly bubbling in you. “You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course, I want to make you happy.” He reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Just… don’t suck my soul.”

“Of course not. I would never.”

“Okay then. Should we just head to your place now?” Hoseok switches lanes, getting ready to make a u-turn.

“Yeah, fuck dinner. Let’s go home now.”

Hoseok thinks he has died and gone to heaven- or maybe, hell?- when you come out of your walk in wardrobe. You have put on the sexiest, the most tantalizing lingerie he has ever seen, and it has the same colour as his red suit, the one he wore in his concert that sent Army all over the world crazy. 

The teddy hugs your body in all the right places; the deep v-neck shows off your cleavage, the lace covering your breasts is cut so delicately, and hangs on a little string to keep everything together. Below the lace, however, is all see through. He can see your belly button, and the mark of Hell just below it. His eyes move further down, and he gulps. He could see your bare sex, already weeping.  The teddy is high cut too, baring your hips and making your legs look even longer. And when you turn, that sorry excuse of a fabric disappears between your ass cheeks only to reappear at your lower back, going up into a series of intricate web on your back. 

Then Hoseok looks at what you have in your hand. A red silk rope. He looks back up to you. You give him a wicked smile.

“What are you waiting for? Get undressed for me, Daddy.” You instruct him.

He immediately takes his clothes off, and you stop him before he removes his boxers. “Those are for me to take off.” You slyly tease, earning a grin from him.

“Get on the bed.” Hoseok obediently does as you ask. “Hands up.” You grab his wrists, and you bind them to the bed posts with your silk rope, tightly enough that he winces slightly. You then straddle him, raking your nails up and down his lean, hard torso. He writhes underneath you. You slide further down so that you rest directly above his now hard cock.

“Oh God,” Hoseok gasps as he feels your wetness through his boxers. You tut in disapproval, and lean down to nip and suck on his chest harshly.

“We don’t say that word in this house, Daddy. You should’ve known better.” You chastise him. You gently rub the purple mark you have just left on his chest. You lay our palm flat against his nipples, rubbing the stiff peaks.

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he pants, “I won’t say it again.”

You bend down so your face hovers over Hoseok’s. You rub your nose against his, then your lips ghost over his mouth and along his jaw. You smile when you hear him whimper. 

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“I do, baby. I love you. Kiss me, please?”

You kiss him passionately,  the last act of intimacy before you start playing with him. You roll your hips, and you feel his body jerks slightly. You hold him down, as your mouth swallows his moans and your dripping core rubs against his hardness.

You sit back up, your hands back onto his chest, and your hips continue to roll. You watch him squirm underneath you. His hands are balled in tight fists, his arms flexing, showing the sinewy muscles. You trail a finger from the inside of his elbow, down the biceps, and to his shoulder and collarbone.

“You’re so fucking hot, Jung Hoseok. Remember that night we met? Once I got you here, I didn’t even want your soul anymore, I just wanted you to fuck me senseless.”

Your finger goes further down along his pec, and circles around his hard nipple. You flick it gently and Hoseok closes his eyes as he suppresses a moan. You raise your finger to his lips, prodding them open.  

“Suck.”

Hoseok envelops your digit immediately, pressing his tongue flat against it. His head starts bobbing, sucking your finger until he is drooling. You raise yourself up to your knees, and Hoseok groans at the loss of your wetness on his boxers. But then he moans around your finger as you slither up towards his chest. Your sex, covered in the most ridiculously see through material, is right in front of him. He can see clearly how you have soaked the fabric, your pussy lips swollen and ready for him to feast on. He looks up at you, eyes pleading. He is desperate for your taste.

You return his stare, and tilting your head, you pull your finger out of his mouth. Then you run it from the bottom of your neck, down to the valley between your breasts, and further south it goes. Hoseok whines at the wet trail of his saliva down your teddy, and when your finger slides over your covered pussy, he lets out a loud moan.

“Hmmm, what is it, Daddy?” You slide your finger back and forth, his saliva all but replaced by your own juices. “Do you want a taste?”

“Yes, yes please.” Hoseok can’t believe how whiny he sounds. He has never been on anyone’s mercy before. 

You pull the lingerie over your cunt aside, and you watch Hoseok’s eyes widen even more as you slip your wet finger inside you. He jerks forward, only to be held back by the restraints around his wrists. 

“Oh please… please…” he implores, “let me taste you please.”

You continue to finger yourself, ignoring his pleas. You push in another finger, and then another, throwing your head back at the stretch. He strains further against his restraints; his desperation could probably power him enough to rip the ropes off. 

The squelching sounds your fingers make are so loud in his ears.  “Please, please, baby, fuck let me taste you.” He beseeches you. “Please.”

You look down at your lover. You love how needy he is being for you. “Why Daddy? You’re not enjoying the show I’m putting on for you?”

He licks his lips and swallows hard. “I love it baby, I can smell you from here. I just want a taste, please let Daddy have a taste?”

Chuckling, you grab his hair, jerking his head back. Then you pull your fingers out and wipe them on his lips. He pokes his tongue out to desperately lick at the honey smeared around his mouth. You then shove your fingers in, and he immediately sucks on your digits, licking them clean. He closes his eyes and groans at the taste of you. You continue to rut yourself on his chest.

“Taste good, Daddy?” You stroke his hair. He nods meekly. “Do you want more?”

He mumbles his answer around your fingers. “Yes, yes please baby girl.”

You pull your fingers out, now drenched with his saliva. You raise yourself up and shuffle further up so that you’re right above his head. Your teddy is still pushed to the side, and you rub your fingers over your wet slit. 

“Shit baby, let me go, let me finger you, hmm?” 

“Shut up and enjoy the show.”  You plunge your fingers in again, and Hoseok’s moans at the sight drowns out yours. You start to fuck yourself, with your lover underneath watching you, praising you and encouraging you to cum. Just before you reach your peak however, you stop, and you remove your fingers. Wiping them on his mouth, he greedily laps at them again, savoring every drop of your taste you are offering him.

“Such a good Daddy,” you pur, “I haven’t cummed yet, do you want to make me cum with your tongue?”

Hoseok nods zealously. He shifts his body further so that he lies fully on his back, his head flat on your pillows. You can feel his hot breaths on your sex, ready to devour you. You lower yourself to his mouth, and his tongue immediately darts out at your opening, collecting all your leaking juices.  

“That’s right Daddy, drink me up.” You rock your hips above him, enjoying his wet organ exploring you. You reach down and pull back the skin above your pussy, revealing your throbbing clit. He moans and clamps his mouth over your nub. He alternates between sucking and flicking it, determined to bring you to orgasm. 

“Daddy, that feels so good,” you encourage him, grabbing a fistful of his hair again. “Make me cum with your tongue. Make me feel good, Daddy.”

Hoseok goes into overdrive. His body is tense, vibrating, he is focusing all his might to get you to your climax. And finally he is rewarded. He feels your core drip more as your thighs shake, and then you curse loudly, sending the lights in your room flickering. 

Once your heart beat returns to normal, you lie down next to him. Turning his head to face you, you kiss him slowly, savoring your taste on his lips. “Such a good Daddy,” you praise him, “making me cum so good.”

Hoseok beams at your praise. “Untie me, baby girl. I can make you feel even better.”

You tsk at him. “I want to make you suffer more.” Hoseok mewls. You pat his head and look at his bound hands. “Are your wrists hurting?”

He whines louder, mixed with laughter. “I just want to touch you. Please.”

“I like you tied up like this,” you trail your fingers up and down his chest. “I like having you helpless and completely under my control.”

Hoseok shudders all over. He has never felt this desperate before. He just wants to touch you, to pin you down and please you over and over. If only he could get out of the damn restraints. 

You can see the desperation in his eyes, and you decide to reward him. You pull down the straps of the teddy off your shoulders, and you smile sinfully as you peel the lace off your breasts, presenting them for his viewing pleasure, but definitely not for touching. Hoseok bites down on his lower lip. You lean over his torso, to reach your bedside table. In doing so, your breasts brush his chin, and he instantly mouths at whatever flesh he can reach, making you giggle.

You dig around the drawer of your bedside table, angling your chest to Hoseok’s mouth so that he can finally capture a nipple. Placing the perky tip between his teeth, he bites down on it to elicit a yelp out of you, before blowing at it and flicking it with his tongue. After grabbing an item from the drawer, you sit back up, and he cries as your nipple leaves his mouth. 

“See what I have Daddy.” You show him the item in your hand; it is a small bullet vibrator. You turn it on. The soft whirring fills Hoseok’s ears. 

“I didn't know you have toys.”

“Oh, I do.” You shuffle down to his crotch, “I just never need it when I’m with you. You always please me so well. But I think we can have a bit of fun tonight, hmm?”

You place the vibrator on his lower abdomen, just above his boxers. Then you peel the teddy off your body, slowly, giving him a striptease. Once naked, you bring the lingerie to his mouth, and he obediently sucks whatever arousal you have leaked onto the fabric. Satisfied, you then move back down and grab the waistband of his underwear, and you turn to look back at him. His eyes are closed, jaw clenching as the little tremors from the toy run through his body. You pull his boxers down slowly, and his red angry cock pops out and flops over the vibrator, making him groan aloud.

You take the vibrator and run it up and down his length, as you lean down to lick the precum off his tip. His body jerks violently, his hands pulling hard against the ropes. 

“Don’t break my bed posts.” You warn him, tapping the vibrator on his cock. “I’ll be very upset.”

“I can buy you a new one.” His breathing is erratic. “Shit, that feels so fucking good.”

“Hmm, does it? How about here?” You move the vibrator to his balls. He screams at once. You laugh mockingly at him. “Oh Daddy, did I almost make you cum?” Hoseok curses. 

You press the vibrator back on the base of his cock. “How much do you want to fuck me?”

“So so bad, please. Let me fuck you. Let me feel you on my cock. Please.”

“Will you give your soul to me, for exchange of a fuck?” You tease him.

Hoseok whimpers. “Take everything of me, I’m all yours.”

“Tsk tsk,” you tut. “Did you forget who I am, Daddy? You should never say that to a demon.”

“Not fair, not fair.” Hoseok is breathless. You move the vibrator closer to his balls again, and he sobs. “Ah, I want to cum in your cunt, please. Please.”

“You don’t want my mouth, Daddy?” You give his length a fat lick, while pressing the toy harder onto his testicles. His cock twitches and his body jerks. You see the muscles of his thighs tightening. “You’re not allowed to cum yet, Daddy!”

“I’m fucking trying not to!” Hoseok bellows. 

You laugh heartily. “All those times you edged me, this is payback.” You lick the head of his cock, and give it little sucks. He thrashes his head on the pillow.

“Please, please…” he begs again.

“Please what, Daddy?” You are stroking and licking his shaft lazily. 

“Suck me or ride me… fuck I don’t care! I just want to be in you, anywhere, please!”

You hum against his length as you move the vibrator to his inner thigh. His legs shake and he lets out a very loud, frustrated moan. You decide that you have teased him enough. Moreover, your sex is sopping wet and throbbing, completely ready for his cock.

Putting the vibrator aside, you straddle him. You both moan as your soaking center meets his hard length. You rock your hips back and fro, coating the whole of his length with your juices. You press down harder on him, sandwiching his cock between the lips of your pussy and his own abdomen. 

“Can you feel how wet I am, Daddy? You’re making me so wet.”

Hoseok is unable to reply. You see him biting his lip and closing his eyes so tightly, as if the action would help him stop from climaxing early. You reach down and grab his cock, all slippery and lubricated now. You position the head of his cock at your entrance, then you slowly sink onto him. You stop halfway however, and order him to open his eyes to look at you.

Holding his gaze, you slam your hips down until he fully impales you. He hisses loudly as your tightness envelops him. “So tight, ah fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight.”

You roll your hips as your inner walls continue to squeeze him, almost daring him to come. Then, getting your knees in position, you start riding him. You reach out for your vibrator and turn it back on. You pull back the skin over your clit, and you press the little device on your bud as you continue to bounce on Hoseok’s cock.

Hoseok curses- the feeling of your cunt contracting around his cock and the pulses from the toy is pushing him closer and closer to the edge. He is not sure if he can hold out much longer. You see his face scrunching up, a tell-tale sign that he is close. So you toss the vibrator aside and lean down towards him. Your hips falter a bit, their rhythm slowing down at the new position. 

You can hear how wet you are riding his cock. The sounds fill your ears, and combined with the smell of sex in the air, you start to get dizzy. The man underneath you is spewing filth and praises at the same time, heating your body further. Licking your lips, you close your hand around his neck, gently. His eyes widen, but he does not protest. You tighten your grip, and he sucks in a breath audibly. Your thumb grazes his adam apple, before you move up to his pulse point. Your mouth instantly waters at how fast it is pulsating; suddenly, the hunger for his pure soul is getting stronger within you.

Hoseok sees your eyes flash red for a moment, and he calls out your name. “Stay with me,” he whispers. “Baby. I trust you. Stay with me.”

His sweet voice brings you back, and you let go of his neck. Your breath is erratic now, and your hips pause. You shake your head to clear the red haze out of your mind. You look down at your boyfriend, and amidst the lust and the desperation, there is love oozing out for you. You take a deep breath, then placing your hands on his solid chest, you murmur, “Hoseok... Daddy, make me cum.”

Hoseok snaps at your request. He twists his wrists to grip the rope that binds him, and he plants his feet firmly on the bed. Then like a man possessed, he starts jackhammering up into you. You keep your body still above him, giving your body to him fully. You arch your back as his cock continues to bruise your hole, enjoying the sensation as he spears you over and over at a maddening pace. The pressure quickly builds in your core, your pussy clamping down on his member.

Hoseok’s hair is matted on his forehead. Sweat has broken all over his body, his muscles tensing as he feels you getting closer to your climax. He is nearing his peak too, and he wants to free fall with you.  “Baby… baby, please… can I cum?” 

“Yes, yes, Daddy, fill me with your cum.”

Hoseok snaps his hips faster, and he does not slow down when you finally climax. As the powerful orgasm sweeps through you, you let out a deafening shriek, and red flames engulf your body while your room is enveloped in an unearthly green glow with the shadows emerging, eager to be freed to feed on the lust that fills the air. Hoseok gasps at the sight, but he continues fucking you through your orgasm, until, at long last, he cums in your pussy, shooting his seeds deep into you as he screams your name.

You are brought back at the sound of your name. The fire immediately dies out, the green glow in your room subsides and the shadows disappear as you come down from your high. You can feel Hoseok’s cock throbbing inside you, his cum leaking out from your hole. Stilling your breathing, you reach for his bound hands to free them. His hands collapse onto the bed, his whole body now limp.

You take his hands, concerned in your face as you rub and kiss his wrists, all red from the restraints. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

Hoseok shakes his head, his eyes closed. His whole body is shiny and slick with sweat. “Fuck, that was out of this world.” He manages to say. His chest heaving up and down.

You smile wholeheartedly with relief and bend down to kiss him. “Let me run you a bath, hmm? I’ll give you a nice massage.”

Hoseok opens his eyes. “OK. It’s the least you can do, for almost eating me up alive.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve never cummed so hard before. I totally lost it.”

A tired but proud smile adorns his face. “You should tie me up more often then, you know, to practice your self-control.”

“I can’t agree more.” You kiss him again and again, apologizing between kisses and professing your love to him. The way his lips are melting against yours and how his tongue licks your mouth is stirring your desire again, but you know he will be too out of it. So reluctantly, you remove yourself and head to the bathroom to prepare the bath you have promised.

An hour later, you and Hoseok lie in bed, naked and fresh from your bath together. He spoons you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body. You fall asleep quickly, comfortable and secure in his embrace. When you stir awake at dawn however, those same arms are spreading and pinning your legs down, as his mouth is latched on your pussy.

“Hoseok...” you hoarsely call out his name. You look down to find his eyes staring back at you from between your legs. 

“Ah, Daddy, that feels good.. .” You sigh contentedly, surrendering yourself to your lover. He eats you out lazily, until he brings you to an orgasm, nothing as earth shattering as before, but delicious nonetheless. Hoseok then climbs up your body and kneels before you. You eagerly suck him until he pulls back, and then he flips you to get you on your hands and knees. He kisses your neck softly as he pushes himself into you.

“Why do you feel so fucking good?” He moans against your neck, enjoying the way your walls close around him. “What power have you got over me, baby girl?”

You gasp as he slowly pulls out before slamming back in. He threads his fingers in your hair and he pulls it to turn your head sideways so he can kiss you as he drags his cock in and out of you, rubbing that sweet spot inside. He keeps his rhythm slow but with purpose, and before long, you both climax together, then collapsing onto the bed.

The sun breaks into your bedroom as you relax in bed, basking in your post-orgasm haze. Hoseok remains on top of you, his heart beating out of his chest against your back. You wriggle to turn around so you can wrap your arms around him, protesting when he is trying to move, telling him that you love the feel of his weight on top of you. 

You stroke his hair, and you feel your chest tightens as he nuzzles your neck.

“Hoseok, thank you for staying with me.” You surprise yourself as you hear your voice breaks. “I know it has not been easy at all.”

Hoseok leans up and looks lovingly at you, his thumb wiping a tear that has escaped your eye. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, baby. Demon or not, you’re mine and I’m yours.”

Happy birthday Hobi 💜

Published 18022021

[wyofabdoms]

Undercover I Do - Chapter 13

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: While on an undercover assignment posing as a married couple, you are attacked and nearly assaulted. Upon waking, all you remember about Javier Peña is what you remembering seeing from two photographs of the two of you posing as the happily married couple. As you struggle to regain your memories, Javi struggles with his own feelings for you.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Implied cheating, swearing, destruction of government property, fluff, angst, mild reference and description of physical & sexual assault.

Word Count: 5048

Notes: The aftermath of you finding the file in Javi's office.

We've reached the end. I didn't expect this story to end this way; I really expected it to have a lot more smut...but! it got the ending it told me it wanted!

Let me know if you find any crazy mistakes. Feedback and comments greatly appreciated.

Be well!

Read on Ao3

Gif not mine, created by bestintheparsec

You had always hated it when people said stupid shit like “all the pieces just fell into place.” Pieces don’t FALL into place. Pieces of pie don’t fall, they’re served. Puzzle pieces don’t fall, they’re carefully assessed and placed into a precise spot just for that specific piece. That saying had never made any sense to you and had always made you crazy.

But now suddenly, every inch that had been hidden in the dark from you was illuminated, highlighted. Everything seemed all at once so bright and overwhelming; one moment you had no recollection of anything written about in the report in your hands. The next moment, CLICK. The light had been turned on and everything was there again.

Everything made more sense now. Why everyone had seemed so on edge whenever they had spoken with you the last few weeks, everyone seeming to measure their words carefully. Why you hadn’t been able to jog any memories loose at all about your nuptials and marriage (or in fact any relationship at all) with Javier. Why you had felt so off-balance in your own apartment.

Why Javier had refused to sleep with you.

None of it was real. You felt the blood drain from your face as you remembered the parts that came next in Javi’s report before you read them, the memories coming faster than the words on the page, now.

The pieces falling into place.

The icy spear of fear that had sliced your chest when the first sicario had come up behind the two of you the night you’d been discovered and pistol whipped Javi, knocking him to the floor. The punches and scratches and lewd, terrible threats Ortiz’s cronies had rained down on you in the hours that you were separated from him. How you had never felt more relieved than when you’d been thrown into a room with your bloodied and bruised partner, saying his name over and over, so grateful that he wasn’t dead that you could barely draw breath. You had laid on the far side of the bedroom from him, tugging against your restraints, listening in the dark as he had murmured things to you and you had whispered back: plans of escape or to fight back and then, eventually, as it became clear that neither option was very likely, comforting words.

Your brain is moving faster now and more and more memories burn bright in front of you, each one shoving and fighting to be seen.

Ortiz had arrived then. Your brain flashed with the sour image of him leering over you, his meaty hands groping and fisting handfuls of your body, the sickly stench of his overpriced cologne poisoning your nostrils, making you gag. You felt his evil hand between your legs, searching, digging...but before he’d found purchase the noises had started. You remembered clearly now. You had blocked it out, the memory of that despicable man forcing himself on you.

At just that moment, you had heard the door open behind you. You’d looked up, trying to hold back the wave of memories that was suddenly crashing around you. You saw your partner standing in the doorway of his demolished office and were sure you’d said something to him. But the memory of Ortiz and what he had tried to do to you had sent your body shaking uncontrollably and you felt yourself crumpling inwards as more memories shoved their way through.

You remembered the blinding flash of light behind your eyes and then you remembered the heavy weight of your body being cradled in someone’s steady arms and you remembered hearing Javier’s voice coming from what seemed like a great distance. He’d been begging you for something. When you had managed to get your eyes open you’d seen him next to you in the ambulance. Your partner. You’d felt him squeeze your hand and assure you that he was there. He was your partner. He would always be there for you.

Just like now. He flew to your side, ripping his jacket off and wrapping it around you as you dissolved into a shivering puddle in the middle of his office. You were also distantly aware of Dixon’s voice shouting for someone to call your doctor, her commanding voice booming as she asked what the hell had happened. You heard the familiar voices of Van Ness and Fiestl murmuring, but Javier’s attention was on you. You heard him murmuring to you softly, carefully taking the file from your hands and telling you to breathe, that he was here, that it was going to be ok.

You had every reason in the world to not believe a word he said, to hate him right now. But all you could do was close your eyes as the tremors overtook you, all you could do was lean into him….

All you could do was trust him.

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Hours later, Javi sat on the edge of his seat in Dixon’s office. Also in the room was your partner’s doctor, the psychologist she had been seeing the last few weeks, and a representative from the Ambassador’s office. Javier’s nerves were frayed, his muscles tensed, ready to make a move in an instant. Dixon had been interviewing her for close to two solid hours.

He had only been half aware of the line of questioning his boss had been asking you; his focus had been entirely on his partner from the moment he’d found her reading the case file in his office. He had not left her side since she’d looked up at him and said his name. Dixon had arrived on scene moments later and had immediately sprung into action, calling for a full immediate medical inspection. Physically, she was fine. But as the doctor and then the psychologist and now Dixon had asked more questions, it was clear that mentally she appeared to be fully recovered as well, albeit slightly shaken by the abrupt and jarring reappearance of her missing memories.

While Dixon continued to assess her agent’s recollection about recent events, Javi kept his gaze leveled on his partner’s profile. He refused to look away from her. If she started to wobble he wanted to be able to catch her. If she started to shake again, he wanted to be able to step forward and cover her shoulders with his jacket. But his brave partner...his strong, smart, beautiful, brave partner...had moved through the questions with her usual detached grace and stoicism. She had not once looked at him since the moment she’d said his name in his office.

He had shared space with his partner for long enough to be familiar with her body language when she was pissed.

And right now, she was more pissed than he had maybe ever seen her.

He knew she was pissed at him. That was fair. He could also detect a fair amount of anger directed toward their boss even after Dixon had explained why they had made the decisions they had in recent days. The doctor had thrown in his own two cents and as they continued to talk, he felt some of her anger temper towards them. It had flared again when Dixon had explained that they had begun paperwork to send her home; Javi’s heart had started pounding and his hand had grasped the arm of his chair in a death grip. But both his worry and your anger lifted when it became clear that, with the full recovery of her memory, she would be free to continue working as an agent in Columbia, after a full physical and mental assessment had been made and signed off on.

Though her anger had waned towards Dixon, he knew it was a bad sign that his partner was refusing to look at him. When speaking of events in which he was involved, she only referred to him as “Agent Peña” and she had never directed a question at him, instead asking through Dixon for clarification on details: the pretending, the make believe married life, the intricacies of the scheme they had concocted to keep her in her fictitious world of memories. She had been very careful to not ask too many revealing questions...Javi recognized her restraint in what she revealed in her inquiries. He knew what she was attempting to deduce: how far had Dixon instructed him to take the “acting like you're married until her memory comes back”? Her response to anything he said was chilly, to put it lightly and Dixon soon picked up on the cold front, too.

“All right,” the older woman said, leaning forward on her desk and letting out a weary sigh. “I think it’s safe to say,” she gestured toward the Ambassador’s representative, “that no one is going to be sent home today.” The representative nodded in agreement. Dixon rose along with the young man in a suit and directed him and the doctors towards the door. “I’d like to speak to my agent alone if we all feel comfortable with moving forward?” Javi kept his eyes on his partner’s face, her own eyes intentionally avoiding him, instead drilling holes into the American flag hanging behind Dixon’s desk. He willed her to look at him, silently screamed for her to look at him. If she would just look at him, if he could just catch her eyes, just for a moment, he would know. He could see her. She’d be able to see him. She’d be able to SEE how he felt about all of this. He just needed her to LOOK at him.

“Agent Peña…” His silent pleas were interrupted by Dixon, standing next to the open door of her office, holding it wide and clearly waiting for him to get up and leave. He swallowed hard, and started to open his mouth to protest. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say but he couldn’t leave her. He was her partner. What if she needed him?

“Agent Dixon?” His partner’s voice was heavy in the sudden silence of the office. It was edged in steel, cold like ice and dripping with anger. “Perhaps you could see to it that Agent Peña gets his shit out of my apartment before I get home…” Eyes still on the wall in front of her, she let the words land in the space between them. Addressed to Dixon, they served as a slap across his face and he felt as though he’d been shoved in the gut, all of the air leaving his lungs at once.

“Ah. Yes, well….Agent Peña?” Without a word, Javi stood and stalked out of the office, slamming the door behind him.

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“You’ve been right about him this whole time,” you say to Dixon after the woman settles back behind her desk. “He’s only ever been after one thing. I should have listened to you. He’s like every other man in the world: only thinks with their dick.”

Dixon steeples her fingers under her chin and studies you for a moment, concern lacing her forehead.

“Tell me more.”

You’re taken aback by this response. Dixon has always been the first to serve up cautionary tales of fraternization with colleagues, has always been able to sense when your restraint against your partner was failing and give you a pep talk to reinforce your will to withstand his flirtations. This was an unusually softer response.

“He just…” You stop, not quite sure what you want to say. You take a deep breath and look at your boss. “We can’t be partners after this.” Dixon starts at your words, sitting up straight.

“That’s…” The older woman studies you for a moment before asking carefully, “Why not?”

You scoff in disbelief.

“How can you expect me to work with him now? To ever trust him again?” When Dixon says nothing, you push on. “He lied to me! He lied SO WELL...I never would have thought he was that good of a liar.” Dixon still doesn’t speak and you rise from your chair and start to pace. “He had me feeling so sure. Sooooo…..so, certain. He worked me REALLY good, Dixon, I gotta tell ya. ‘Sure, I’ll pretend she’s my wife! Maybe THEN I can get in her pants!’ He didn’t even have to work at it! Just let me keep thinking we were married and that we were SUPPOSED to….” you stop yourself from growling out the word “fuck” in front of your boss. You continue, your voice softer now, disbelieving. “He was SUCH a good liar, Dixon. He had me believe-”

“What? That you were married?” The older woman cut you off. “You can’t put that all on him. He was ordered to do that.” You were confused by her sudden defense of him and you stopped your pacing to stare at her. The older woman sat back in her chair and appraised you for a moment before continuing. “Peña debriefed with me every day. Shared probably more than he wanted to about what was happening. I’ll admit, yes, I was initially a little worried about the arrangement. But based on everything he told me, I never thought…” a flash of concern crossed her eyes and she looked at you hard. “I only ever got his side of the story, of course. So, let me just make sure we’re clear, that I’m understanding you correctly: Are you telling me that Peña took advantage of you in this situation?” She waited.

You sat back down heavily in your chair, considering what she was asking you, thinking back over every interaction you had had with Javi since you’d come home from the hospital. Your first day back when he’d found you sobbing in your closet and gently tucked you in bed to rest. The awkward run in after your shower, when he had intentionally turned away from you. The walks around the neighborhood everyday, through the markets, the mundane routines of cooking a meal or watching tv together, reading reports or the paper. His reliable presence sleeping on your couch every night until that thunderstorm when you had been struck by nightmares (now you knew they were memories) and how he had held you so tightly and securely as you’d cried, then how he’d held you in his arms every night following as you drifted off to sleep. You were distantly aware that Dixon was still talking and you tuned back in.

“...because if that’s the case I will ruin him. He will never work again, not if I have anything to say about it. If he lied to me about the situation…”

“No.” You stop her rant, holding up a hand. “It...it wasn’t like that, Dixon. He didn’t. He didn’t take advantage of me. That’s not what I’m saying. It’s just... It wasn’t…."

Wasn’t...what?

It wasn’t real?

Was that why you were so upset? Yes, the sudden return of your memories of a traumatic event had shaken you, but why were you so upset with Javier Peña? He had done what he’d been ordered to do: pretend to be your husband.

You thought back to those most charged and intimate moments between the two of you. From the get-go after your hospital release, he’d been careful not to touch you until you had made it clear it was ok. He hadn’t said a word when he’d seen you in your towel. And, now that you were reflecting on it, all of the intimate moments had been initiated by you. The shower, the early mornings lying next to him in bed, the heavy making out on the couch.

Your mind suddenly reeled to the conversations you had had with him: about your wedding, when you’d asked about wanting kids, the book of poetry you’d found with the pictures in his office. The drunken argument you’d had with him the night before.

“I promise you: It’s all gonna make sense when things are back to how they were….I haven’t lied to you once this whole time. Not once...please, please know I’m doing this because...because I love you.”

Is that why you felt like you could cry at the thought of you facing your partner ever again? Because a small cracked part inside of you had felt complete at the idea of being married to Javier Peña? And now, that had ended up not being true. As your anger and fear from the initial shock of your recovered memories fell away, you were now just left with an aching sadness that something that had felt so real and so right… had actually ended up being nothing at all.

It had felt so real. So true. You had believed him. About all of it.

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Javier stared at the ceiling of his apartment, watching the shadows crawl inch by inch towards morning. He had been laying here on his couch for hours, trying to decide if he should give up on sleep and go into work or if he should march downstairs and bang on her door and demand that she talk to him.

He heaved another heavy sigh and threw his arm across his eyes, begging whatever higher power might be listening to put him out of his misery and let him sleep away this nightmare situation for just a little while.

He thought the soft knocking on his door was his imagination at first. Then he heard it again and he bolted upright. His stomach clenched when he saw her through the peephole and he threw the door open, forgetting about his disheveled state of appearance until she swept an appraising eye up and down: shirtless, barefoot, jeans wrinkled and baggy, belt unbuckled hair sticking up in every direction and eyes red-rimmed from smoke and sleeplessness.

“Hey,” He croaked, his voice betraying the relaxed demeanor he hoped to convey. He was so surprised that she was standing in front of him that he forgot to invite her in, and after several moments of saying nothing, she breezed past him through the partially opened door, forcing him to step backwards out of her way and nearly falling over a box of his things that he’d dropped inside the door after hauling it back upstairs.

She hovered in his hallway for a moment or two, staring into the shadows of his apartment, then turned to face him. She held up a wadded ball of something: one of his shirts. The pink one that she’d always given him so much grief about but that he’d found her clutching in the closet that first day back from the hospital. She tossed the shirt into one of the overfilled boxes behind him and then crossed her arms over her chest. The hallway was dark and, like the rest of his apartment, he couldn’t see her face clearly; he moved to turn on a light but her voice stopped him before he made it to the light switch.

“Was any of it real?”

He didn’t ask her to clarify or ask what she meant. He knew what she meant and to pretend otherwise would have only insulted her and made her angrier with him.

“Yes.” It was all he could trust himself to say.

“Which parts?”

She had him. This was the chance he had been afraid he would never get this morning, when he’d been terrified of losing her. She was giving him this moment, this chance to tell her the truth. To tell her how he felt.

But he was a coward. He felt those cowardly claws reach up from inside of him and pull his resolve and courage back down beneath the darkness of himself, of his self-loathing and the hatred he had for who he had become. His gaze flicked away from her, he put a hand on his hip and ran his other through his hair nonchalantly and he shrugged.

“I dunno, it was just…” She took an aggressive step forward into his personal space, causing him to straighten and jolt at her sudden closeness.

“Which parts?” She asked again, more forcefully this time. Her eyes glittered in the shadows and he could see them searching his face, and he found it was easier to look at her here, in the half darkness. He felt a small shred of courage still burning deep within himself and he dove towards it.

“I...I didn’t lie to you. I never told you a lie. Not once. I made sure….I made sure I didn’t ever actually speak a lie to you.” He saw her roll her eyes and he pressed forward while he still had the will to speak. “I know, I know. Omission and all of that. I know. And you’re right. But I didn’t lie to you. And I’m sorry for…” he took a deep breath. He knew this part was important. He needed to get it right. “I’m sorry about the way I...made you feel. About...ya know,” he waved his hand in the space between the two of them. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like I didn’t want to be with you. I know that hurt you. That’s not…” He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I didn’t want you to hate me when this was all over. I…” He felt his stomach turn watery. “I wanted to…” He looked at her then, his eyes burning into hers for a moment. “I wanted to.” He said again, making sure she knew what he meant. “But I knew you’d never forgive when you got your memory back if I let that happen. And, I’m sorry...this morning...I know it was too close...I just thought…”

When she pressed her warm lips to his, he almost fell backwards over the boxes again, but he was in an instant grateful that she had stopped any further words from stammering out of his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her in part to steady himself but also to pull her the final small distance into him. When she pulled her lips away, he didn’t let go of her and she didn’t make an attempt to move away from the warm embrace of his arms.

“You told me there wasn’t anyone else.” Her warm eyes looked up at him, her lips hovering mere centimeters from his.

“There isn’t.”

“I saw you this morning...with her.” Javi let his forehead fall against hers and he sighed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...I didn’t want for that to happen. I was...I don’t want to sound like a pervert or anything but...I was still thinking about you when she showed up and…” He stopped talking, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could say to excuse himself. “I’m sorry.” He repeated it more softly this time, leaving an opening at the end of the two little words; allowing room for her to take control of what happened next.

They stood like that for several long moments in the dark, her hands linked around his neck, his arms firmly snaked around her waist, palms flat on her back, foreheads resting together, sharing one another’s breath. Then, ever so softly and so timidly he almost didn’t recognize it as her voice, could barely hear her:

“Did you mean it?”

Again he knew better than to act like he didn’t know what she was talking about. He nodded his head against her, holding his breath. She pulled back to look him in directly in the eyes, asking him more loudly this time, seeking the words.

“Did you?”

He had to say it. If he didn’t he would lose her forever, he knew it for certain. She would leave his apartment and never look back.

“Yes.” He had never found a single word so difficult to say. He saw a flash of frustration in her eyes.

“Javi…”

“I love you.”

There.

There it was.

The truth. That was real.

He panicked in the moments that came after, feeling every instinct inside of him screaming to run away. But her gaze and her soft breath on his face and the way her hands softly danced through the short hairs on the back of his neck kept him rooted in place.

Her lips lifted in a small smile.

“Yeah?” she breathed. He couldn’t help but return a small smile.

“Yeah.”

He wasn’t sure if she pulled him to her or if she leaned into him, but her lips were on his again, this time her tongue seeking entrance which he gladly and desperately granted. He pulled her tighter against him, letting a soft moan escape from deep inside him as their tongues tasted each other hungrily. He had never thought something could feel as good as the sensation of her fingers in his hair, tugging gently.

He took his cue from her and when her lips left his and began to travel along his jaw, around his ear, down his neck, he began to let his hands roam her around her hips, kneading handfuls of her backside in his grip. She pressed her full weight into him as he grasped her and the backs of his legs knocked into the boxes again on the floor behind him; he stumbled and they both nearly went crashing to the floor. Instead they did a sharp half-lean, half-fall into the hallway wall, both of them laughing like teenagers but still refusing to break their kiss. Eventually, Javi pulled away with great effort and steadied them both before sliding his hands along the backs of her thighs and patting, signaling her to hop and wrap her arms around his waist, which she happily did. He was surprised to feel a broad smile plastered over his face as he began to walk her towards his front door, peppering kisses along her neck and nibbling her ear.

“Wait!” She pulled away from his lips, looking at him quizzically at the sound of the door opening behind her. “Where the hell are we going?” He grinned up at her sweetly.

“Your apartment. Your bed is way fucking better than mine.” She threw her head back and laughed and he felt his own rumbling leave his own chest and bubble out of his mouth as he watched her face transform with delight amidst the moonlight and soft shadows. God she was so beautiful. She leaned down and kissed him again, fiercely.

He had to stop for a moment, leaning against the wall, the sheer force of her passion bleeding through her kiss into his soul and causing him to lose control of his very sense of self. He felt for a moment like he was floating and was unsure he would be able to support both of them. Then he felt her hands tangle in his hair again and it grounded him, brought his thoughts swimming back through the swirling haze of desire he felt for her. He dropped her to her feet, abruptly and she began to protest, but then squealed with surprise and delight when he immediately leaned into her and chucked her over one shoulder, both of them laughing as he tore down the stairs to her apartment.

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Much later, after they had explored and tasted and taken one another several times over, Javi lay tangled in the sweaty bed sheets, perfectly content to live out the remainder of his life with his head nestled comfortable on her soft belly, his eyes drooping and sleepy from sex and utter contentment.

He listened to the sound of her steady breathing and revelled in the gentle rise and fall of his own head as air filled her body and then left it again gently, raising his head slowly and releasing it back down with each breath she took. It reminded him of when he was a boy, going fishing with his dad on the lake in the cold early mornings when the waters were just waking up; the waves lapping the side of the boat and creating a steady up...down...up...down... The memory was peaceful and relaxing, just as this moment with her was now. He would throw himself into the ocean that was her for the rest of his life if she would have him, he thought.

He felt her hand move across her stomach and touch the top of his head. He glanced up at her and saw her gazing back at him with her own set of sleepy eyes. He stared at her for a long while, wanted to say something, wanted to say just the right thing....the perfect thing. The romantic thing.

But then he didn’t have to.

She carefully weaved her fingers through his hair, gave him a small smile, released a soft contented sigh, and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep, smile still dancing across her lips. He smiled, too and turned his face to press a soft kiss into her middle, just between her breasts, above where he could feel her heart beating steadily. Then he returned his head to his original spot and allowed himself to be lulled to sleep by the rhythm and motion of her breath.

Before he slipped down into the soft haze of sleep, his gaze fell upon the delicate white petals edged in pink of plumeria.

They were standing in a vase of water on the table next to the bed. She had put them there at some point after he had brought them to her as a peace offering...was that only the night before? He had felt like he had lived two lifetimes with her these last 24 hours. When they had reached her apartment, time had slowed as they had discovered one another; each time he had spilled himself inside of her or she had cried his name as she came apart around him he had whispered to her once more:

“I love you.”

He had never felt anything like it before, being with her, saying those words. It was passionate and sexy and powerful.

It was real.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking in the scent of her, the scent of them, mingled with the soft scent of the flowers that stood watch over them as they slept.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12

[kitkat1003]

Everything is Blue

Chapter 1:  His pills, his hands, his jeans

MK just wants everyone in his life to be safe and happy, to never leave him.  He'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

And, luckily for him, the voice in his head has the perfect plan to make that happen.

(Or, the author contemplates how slow the possession was for DBK in episode 10 and considers how MK would fall)

Ao3 link

This is a 13k monolith of a first chapter, but I'm very proud of how it turned out!  I threw it together in 4 days with the help of my beta reader @imnotcameraready on tumblr, famous for the Chivalry is Dead sanders sides au.  Give it a read, it's on Ao3 and tumbr!  It even has a sequel!  Seriously, she’s a great writer and edited this thing in like 2-3 hrs after I threw it at her.  A godsend.

Anyway, happy reading!

When MK knocks the canisters off of DBK’s back, he thinks that’s the end of it.  He wasn’t exactly given the rundown on how the cannisters worked, nor does he know why whatever was in them caused DBK to go crazy, but at the very least he only had to fight the one guy instead of the entire family. It was weird to fight with Red Son and Princess Iron Fan (shouldn't she be Queen, at this point?  She's married to Demon Bull King, after all. Do they not have the paperwork?) but not unwelcome. He wishes they could be on the same side all of the time.

Because he was raised on stories of Monkey King’s adventures, which frequently discuss the Demon Bull Family, and he’s always thought they were interesting in those stories.  He thinks Princess Iron Fan is super cool, even though she’s scary and actively wants him dead.  Red Son is...well, he wasn’t what MK expected, but that isn’t exactly a bad thing.  If anything, MK thought he’d be older.  He doesn’t understand how demon aging works.

Tangents aside, he watches them disappear in a gust of wind and groans, flopping forward as he bemoans the fact that they left again, when he’d just beat them.  Well, he hadn’t actually fought all three of them, this time.  DBK had fought more people than he had.

He jumps as the cave begins to crumble from all the damage that it took from the fight, scrambling to find a way out, when—

A New Vessel?

A voice curls into his ear, a soft whisper.

Young.  Powerful.  Weak.  Freedom.

He looks down, and he sees a white light sink into his skin.  Cold seeps into his every pore, bone, and nerve, his muscles tensing as the temperature drops.  His teeth chatter, and when he lets out a startled breath he sees white air drift in front of his face.  The warmth of his powers—his Monkey King powers—is smothered, and soon all MK feels is the cold that keeps him in place, rooting him to the spot.  It’s a miracle he’s even standing.  

What is this?  

What’s happening?

His eyes dart to the cannisters.  The empty canisters.  There was something in there, earlier, right? Where did it go?  

Is this?  Wher e it w  e n    t?  

Wha t   i  s  . .   .  ?

It’s hard to think.  His thoughts are newly cracked ice upon a lake, pieces crashing slowly against each other and fracturing further, splintering into nothingness.

New Vessel.  Rest.

His eyes slide shut, out of his control, as his consciousness, like everything else, is smothered by the chill.

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He wakes up on the shoulder of the Monkey Mech, as the last rays of sun are streaking across the steadily darkening sky, like a lighthouse beam against the dark sea.  He sits up, staring far into the horizon, as confusion pulls him out of the just woken up daze.  How did he get here?

“MK?” He jumps, startled, and turns to realize that Mei is right next to him, a concerned smile on her face.  He stares at her, trying to figure out why she’s here, how she got here.  Then again, he doesn’t even  know how he got here.  He feels dizzy just trying to remember. 

“You alright, kid?” Pigsy’s voice comes from his other side, and he forces himself not to jump, turning to look at his boss.  Tang and Sandy are there too, and Sandy waves while Tang smiles in greeting mid slurp, bowl of noodles in hand.

“What happened?” he’s missing time.  He defeated DBK, and then...then nothing.  There’s a feeling of coldness, at the thought, but the memories don’t come.

“I found you on the ground after the Bull Clones all sort of fell apart. I figured you passed out after trouncing DBK, so I picked you up and got you out of there.” Mei doesn’t seem concerned, but MK is, just a little.  He’s never passed out after using his powers; rather, using them often results in him getting an energy boost.  He thinks back on it, trying to remember any time this has happened before.  Macaque comes to mind but even then he wasn’t tired once his powers returned.

His ruminating on the ordeal is cut off by a bowl of noodles being shoved unceremoniously into his hands.  He blinks down at it, and then turns to Pigsy  

“Here, kid.  Eat. You look pale, and skinny as ever.  Can’t have my employee lookin’ half starved.” He smiles at Pigsy’s attempt to hide his soft side, picking up his chopsticks with a grin.

He eats, and the loud conversations of what they’d just accomplished arrests MK’s attention so that the questions about DBK, the cannisters, the voice that he swears he can hear in the back of his mind, fall away like sand in an hourglass, time never able to be reclaimed.

The sun finally vanishes and stars dot the sky like sequins on a gown.  MK curls in on himself, hunched over the bowl a little, missing the sun's rays and the finished soup’s warmth.

He shivers, but there’s no breeze.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The bonus of living in such a technologically advanced age is that city reconstruction is pretty fast. Hospitals are rebuilt first, people are brought in en masse. MK spends his time volunteering there, because noodle shops are low on the list of things to be rebuilt and he needs to be useful.

MK tries not to be too guilty about the wreckage, though most of it had occurred because he was late to stop DBK. He'd been kept at Flower Fruit Mountain for a few weeks because Monkey King was worried after the incident with Macaque. Wanted to be sure MK's training ethic wasn't too messed up, wanted to be certain Macaque hadn't left any lasting effects or impressions.

It was a punishment, MK knows, for being a two timing student and for making Monkey King have to deal with a demon enemy when he’s made it clear that he’s retired. Doesn't matter that they only ever trained in the morning and early afternoon, then spent the rest of the day hanging out. MK has watched Monkey King: The Animated Series fifty-three times now, most recently with Monkey King during the duration of his solitary confinement at Flower Fruit Mountain. They'd both piped up with commentary, MK about the production and animation, and Monkey King about the inaccuracies that MK filed away for his sketchbook.

But even so, it was a punishment for MK’s failings. Why else would Monkey King keep MK close, keep him away from his family and friends, keep MK away from the outside world?

It takes two and a half weeks after the battle with DBK for MK to go back to work delivering noodles. He'll sometimes buy extra and drop it off at a random hospital nearby, for the medical staff. They're overworked because of him, because he was away for so long.

He has to be better next time. He doesn't know when DBK will be back, doesn’t know how to sense him. Is he able to do that? Can he learn to sense when his enemies are nearby? That would solve a lot of problems, near rid him of worry. Maybe Monkey King knows?

That thought has him swinging by Flower Fruit Mountain on the weekend, with a promise to Pigsy to be home before midnight.  MK is an adult only by age, after all; Pigsy still treats him like the 16 year old he found half dead outside his shop.

When he steps onto the mountain’s sand, though, he feels unwelcome.

The mystic energy that had beckoned him in the first time he’d arrived has shut its doors, like a silent way of saying 

Leave. 

Not a single monkey comes to greet him, but he can see their eyes, hidden in the trees. They regard him with suspicion. He frowns at them in confusion.

He hears a hiss in the back of his head and winces at the ensuing headache, stepping forward in hopes of pushing past the pain. Every step he takes makes the pounding in his head louder and more painful, and MK closes his eyes and focuses, reaching for the well of power he knows he has, the power that makes the staff feel lighter than air. 

It’s like sticking his hand through a well of ice, and his wrist is paralyzed by the time his fingers brush that warmth, the light curling around his palm.  Gold sparkles in his vision, and the unwelcome air starts to recede, as if the island recognizes him again.  He heads in deeper, and lets out a breath as the headache ceases.

He doesn’t have to head in too deep, because Monkey King comes through the waterfall in a rare moment of MK’s mentor leaving the inner sanctum of the mountain.  The waterfall itself moves like a curtain out of Monkey King’s way and the sight has MK focusing on that rather than the expression on Monkey King’s face, until he looks up.  

Monkey King’s eyes are sharp, darting around, an expression MK only recognizes from the suspicion and distrust Monkey King gave Macaque.  MK fidgets beneath that gaze, though it isn’t directed at him, uncomfortable.  He hasn’t done anything wrong, has he?  He wracks his brain for any new missteps, but finds very little.  Still, his anxiety skyrockets by the second. 

The look vanishes, though not completely, when Monkey King’s eyes catch on the sight of MK.

“Hey bud!  Impromptu visit?” Monkey King greets.

MK tries not to shy away from the air of suspicion that colors Monkey King’s tone.  Is MK really that untrustworthy? He did mess up badly by trusting Macaque, and Monkey King is right to distrust him.  He bites his lip and tries to ignore the swell of guilt that sets like a stone in his stomach at the memory.

“Yeah, just-uh-just wanted to train, y’know?  Don’t know when DBK is coming back.” He shrugs, and Monkey King nods, only half listening.

He still looks on edge. “Cool.  You uh...you bring anyone with you?” 

Now that’s concerning. MK scrambles to find a supposed intruder, hands gripping his staff tight in preparation for battle. “No?  Unless-Oh no, is there someone here?  Is it a demon guy?”  What if he led a bad guy here?  What if he messed up again?

He jumps as a monkey lands on his head, picking through MK’s hair in typical grooming fashion, and then Monkey King laughs, loud and almost relieved.  MK turns back around to face him.

“Nah, must be my nerves.  Maybe DBK left something on you, messed with my senses.” Monkey King waves a hand, nonchalant, and MK perks up in ease at the reminder.

“Oh!  That’s actually why I’m here!” He takes careful steps forward, trying not to jostle the monkey on his head.  “I was thinking-I didn’t know DBK was in the city and destroying stuff, and a lot of people got hurt.  But!  If I could sense him, like you can, I could stop him quicker!  Right?” He’s bouncing on his toes, nervous and excited all at once, and Monkey King smiles down at him fondly.  

“Sure, why not?  If you’re up for some meditation, that is,” Monkey King turns, waving at MK to follow. 

The monkey on MK’s head hops away, and MK sprints after his mentor with a wide grin.  “Totally!  I’m, like, the best at meditation.  I’m like a meditation wizard!”

Monkey King laughs all the way to the training grounds.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Training actually is easier than he expects.  MK blusters a lot, but he isn’t dumb or unaware of his limits.  Sitting still isn’t his strong suit, so sitting still while not being able to talk, tap, fidget, or do anything else other than think is basically torture.

But, when he gets into the meditative position with Monkey King, something clicks.  A cool blanket settles on his shoulders, eases out the desire to move.  It’s so easy to be still, and quiet.

Frozen.

“You weren’t kidding,” Monkey King tells him, and MK grins a little, face warmed by the praise.  “Now, when you’re like this, you have to let every other sound and feeling fade out.  Nothing else matters but the energies around you.  Mine’s pretty easy to see cause, yknow,” 

MK can practically see Monkey King scratching his chin and grinning with barely hidden pride.  “I’m a pretty powerful guy.  DBK would be similar, he’s got a pretty loud aura too.  Now, just try it, kay?”

MK nods, and takes a deep breath.  The sounds around him-bugs, monkeys jumping around and talking to one another, the wind, the ever present sound of something in his head—those all start to fade away.

Wait, what was that last one?

He lets them all go, and then forgets the feeling of the cold, the grass, the fabric touching his skin.  Nothing exists except his own mind, and then.

He gets to see the bright light that is Monkey King.  Golden and red and royal in its feel, it’s near blinding.  He has to blink a few times to get used to its light.

“Woah,” he murmurs, and Monkey King opens one eye, before blinking both in surprise.

“Woah, already?  You sure you haven’t done this before?” Monkey King crosses his arms over his chest, almost offended, and MK is reminded of how betrayed Monkey King looked when MK had shown off the skills he’d learned from Macaque.

“Nope!  Maybe defeating DBK gave me a confidence boost?”  He shrugs, and then stands, looking around.  Monkey King’s expression sits in the back of his mind, and MK bites his lip.  “Did I, uh, did I do something wrong?  I didn’t…,” he trials off, worried.

“Maybe,” Monkey King mumbles in response to his first reply, mostly to himself.  “Oh-no, no, you’re fine, bud.  I think I’m just a little paranoid,” he laughs it off.  MK is too busy glancing back towards town to process Monkey King’s pensive expression.

“I can see Mei!  She’s...very green.  Did she always have a dragon?” It’s curled around her, like a protective barrier, snarling and poised to strike.

Monkey King chuckles. “You’ve got yourself some powerful friends, kid.  Not surprising.  Like knows like, even when they don’t know what like is.” He puts a hand on MK’s shoulder, and then starts.  “You’re freezing.  It’s not that cold, is it?”

MK blinks a few times, and everything comes back, the colors and sounds and feelings of the world returning to normal.  Monkey King keeps looking at him, as if MK is a puzzle he’s yet to solve.

“I don’t know, maybe?  I’ve been feeling a bit chilly, lately.  Maybe I’m coming down with something?” He’s been a bit stressed out, between Macaque and DBK and the reconstruction, and he’s heard stress can cause illnesses.

Monkey King sighs, after a moment, and scratches his head.

“I think I’m becoming an adult,” he says, like it’s a crime, and he shrugs again.  “You’re probably fine.  Just, take it easy the next few days, alright?  Practice meditating at home, or when you’re on the job.  When you’re as good as me, you can turn it on whenever you need to,” Monkey King puffs up with pride, and his tail swings back and forth leisurely.  MK watches his tail more than he listens to what Monkey King is saying.

“Okay.  Anything else for today?” It’s only been an hour or two, they have plenty of time.  

Monkey King deliberates.  Then, he grins, stepping back to position for MK’s inevitable first attack. “Tell you what.  We’ll spar for a bit, and then you can bring up that new show you kept ranting about a few weeks ago.  Kay?” 

MK’s eyes sparkle.

“Heck yeah!”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK’s muscles aren’t sore when he gets home.  He actually lasted a couple minutes sparring this time around, and Monkey King had rewarded him with peach chips and an arm around MK’s shoulder as he eagerly pulled up the show he had dove into during his free time on the TV.

Pigsy sent him upstairs with a bowl of noodles and a stern reminder to sleep early so he wouldn’t be late for work. He finishes the noodles in record time and, once he has showered and put on his warmest pajamas, pulls out all of the blankets he can find.  He just wants to be warm, just a little, even though it doesn’t make sense that he’s feeling this cold.  He’s not tired, he doesn’t feel achy, his sinuses are clogged—none of the other symptoms of being sick are popping up, so why is he so cold?!

He’s practically buried in blankets by the time he feels comfortable enough to rest.  For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t dream.

Things go back to normal, somewhat.  There’s a niggling something in the back of his head, and there’s guilt and the ever present chill that has MK wearing long sleeved shirts, but otherwise MK falls back into his typical routine, which is nice.  He missed his friends, between Macaque and DBK and training.  It’s good to see them again.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first time he starts hearing the voice in his head, he’s getting yelled at by Pigsy.

It doesn’t happen as often, anymore.  MK is scatterbrained, but he genuinely tries to do his best at work.  Sometimes, he gets mixed up, because he’s only one kid and he’s never been good at focusing, no matter how hard he tries.  It’s hard for his stressed out and ADHD ridden brain to remember whose order is whose, especially when it’s the dinner rush and he’s running behind.

Today was a particularly bad day.  He’d accidentally given a customer an order with peanut oil in it, when they had an order specifically without peanuts due to their severe allergy.  Pigsy had gotten a very angry phone call, and he passed that rage at MK, rightfully so. 

MK can only apologize so much, so eventually he quiets and lets Pigsy let off steam.  Luckily the customer hadn’t tried to sue, but MK knows the review Pigsy likely got was scathing.  He deserves a bit of a tongue lashing for that, he thinks.

It was an honest mistake.  Cruel, to yell at one so young.  Why is he so mean?

The voice in the back of his head, new and different, nearly makes MK jump.  Pigsy notices the change in MK’s expression and mistakes it for fear, and that gets him to quiet down.  He dismisses MK with a sigh and a wave of his hand, and MK heads upstairs, feeling guilty and confused.

 That voice….it didn’t sound like him, did it?  When he tries to recall the sound, it mirrors his internal voice, but in the moment it seemed different.

 It’s probably nothing.  After all, if something was wrong with him, wouldn’t someone else have noticed by now? Wouldn’t he have noticed by now?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The voice keeps popping up at random intervals, random moments.  When Mei gets annoyed at his ramblings.  When Tang pushes him away when he’s begging for a story, because Tang is busy eating.  When Pigsy yells at him for being late for work, for messing up.  When Sandy awkwardly pushes him to leave because MK can’t take a hint, some days.  When Monkey King looks at him with something akin to disappointment, exasperation.

They’re tired of you.  They want you gone.  They’re plotting against you.  They’re going to betray you!

And, see, that would bother MK if he didn’t already know that.  He knows people don’t like him, find him annoying.  He knows he pushes too much, messes up a lot, misses social cues.  He knows that he’s not a good enough successor.  And that just makes him want to do better.  

As for the whole betrayal thing, plotting against him, it makes sense.  He isn’t offended or anything if they are, in fact he’d be more surprised if they weren’t, you know?  He’s the Monkey King’s successor.  He has all of the powers, has all of the strength and invincibility, with a caveat or two, but he’s also still just a teenager.  If they aren’t worried that he could go rogue, mess up and decide to be selfish, then that’s stupidity on their part.  Trusting him with anything is never a good idea, so knowing that, should he mess up, his family will be able to enact swift justice is a comfort rather than a worry.

And yeah, it’s a bit embarrassing, knowing just how annoying and useless he can be.  He flinches more often at their glares, gets quieter.  He doesn’t want to make them mad at him, he doesn’t want to lose them because he isn’t good enough.  He just needs to focus, be better, help out more often.  If he does that, hopefully they won’t leave.

The voice, after a few months or so, had backed off for a week.  He’d felt a weight lift from his shoulders, and smiling was easier.  Pigsy had seemingly relaxed at his good mood, and Mei seemed cheerier when they’d gone out to the arcades.  He hadn’t realized he’d been worrying them.  

Are you so sure they’ll stay?

A single phrase that pulls the rug out beneath MK’s feet.  He knows he isn’t good enough, but everyone knows that he at least tries, right?  That should endear them to him enough for him to prove he’s worth their time, right?  He can be good enough, he can do better, he just needs time!

Not fast enough.  They’ll get tired of you, and then they’ll leave.

The cold feeling in his chest feels so much heavier, as he panics in his room.  He’s supposed to be asleep, but the blankets don’t do much anymore.  He’s losing feeling in his fingers.  He keeps fumbling with things, even the staff, and everyone is getting annoyed at him.  And he’s so tired, all the time, and yet it’s so hard to sleep.  He doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, but he knows that whatever it is, it’s going to ruin the equilibrium he has between being a failure and being good enough to keep around.

What happens when he loses it all?

You can be better.

Can he?

Wouldn’t everyone love you if they were safe?

Well, he can imagine not having to worry about DBK would make them far less stressed out.  If he can do that, then maybe they won’t get so easily annoyed at him.  He knows stress can make people snappy, and there’s a lot to be stressed about, like the economy and death by demons.

You can make them safe.

How?  

Listen to me. 

And MK knows it’s weird to make a pact with your own mind, but he thinks he’s pretty good at following directions, so he nods, and doesn’t sleep at all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The plan isn’t an easy one, and MK doesn’t know if he really wants to follow it.  The words turn over and over in his head. He doesn’t know if they’re right or not.

Maybe it would be better, if he wasn’t so nice.  He beats the bad guys, sure, but he isn’t that violent with them.  They try to kill him, but it’s never personal.  He’s the successor to Monkey King, it just makes sense that they’d go after him.  He’s not upset, really!

Even though the calabash has him looking over his shoulder.  They have earthquakes a lot, they live near a ring of active volcanoes, and each one puts him on edge, expecting a lie to turn his whole world apart. And the spider lady tried to eat his friends, tried to kill him.  And Macaque nearly hurt Monkey King because MK let him get close.  And DBK and Princess Iron Fan won’t stop, not until they get revenge or something.

Red Son is...he’s MK’s age.  And MK has noticed just how much DBK and Princess Iron Fan belittle Red Son, and he’s their son.  It’s too familiar for MK’s liking, and it makes the desire to bring Red Son to justice lessen.  Maybe, if he got Red Son’s parents out of the way…

You could have anything you wanted.

All MK wants is for his friends and family to be happy.

This is how you’ll do it.

MK doesn’t give in.  Not yet.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

MK considers it when he goes over to see Sandy, one afternoon.  They’re just doing some leisurely painting practice, nothing like painting the whole boat.  After the whole clones thing, Sandy had learned that he should probably figure out which color he wants to stick with in the long run before asking for help in such a task.  So, he asks MK to come over and brainstorm.  You know, sketch out some ideas, test paint samples on different areas of the boat, see how it looks in light and dark.

MK also helps with the many litter boxes around the ship, as well as top up the water and food bowls all around.  He gets appreciative nuzzles from the myriad cats around the barge, so it isn’t so bad.  Then, he and Sandy will have tea, and Sandy will listen to MK ramble on about anything and everything until either Monkey King or Pigsy or Mei calls him to go do something (he gave Monkey King his number.  Occasionally he will get an incomprehensible text.  He’s pretty sure Monkey King has a Nokia phone).

Today, when they’re having tea, MK considers.

“Hey, Sandy?” He starts, more hesitant than when he’s ever asked the man a question before. 

Sandy notices, and MK sees him soften his pose even more, looking warm and welcoming. “Yeah, MK?”

“Do you think I’m too soft on villains?”

Because he beats them, but he always lets them leave, lets them escape.  They get to heal, recoup, and come back stronger every time, and people get hurt.  MK doesn’t want to be the type to attack first, to never ask questions, but at this point there aren’t too many questions to ask.

“You’ve got a good heart, MK.  You don’t have it in ya to go at ‘em too hard,” MK clenches his fist, his other hand gentle against the teacup lest he break it.  He did that a few times when he first got his powers, unused to the extra strength.

“That kinda doesn’t answer my question,” MK tries not to say it through gritted teeth.  He can feel his tea getting frigid, and bites back the burst of white air that would make Sandy ask questions.

He wouldn’t know how to answer questions about that, which is why he can’t deal with them.  That’s the reason.

He’s saying you’re weak.

MK hides a grimace, and lets his heart ache silently.  He sips the tea.  It’s ice cold.

“What brought this on?” Sandy asks, instead of answering the question, which grates on MK’s nerves more than it should.

“I let DBK get too powerful,” he says.  “He destroyed the city again, and people got hurt.  If I’d just got rid of him before, those people would be okay.”

Sandy sighs, taking a sip of his tea.  A cat hops into MK’s lap, curling up, but after a few frigid moments hops away.  Apparently MK is too cold for its liking.  He tries not to get offended by that, but the hot well of shame and longing persists. At least the feeling is warm.

“MK, you’re still learning.  Mistakes are bound to happen.  Those who got hurt will get better, and the city is rebuilt better than ever!  You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders.  And,” Sandy looks away, and suddenly he looks a lot older than MK thinks he is.  “Honestly, being too harsh to make an enemy stop can feel good in the moment, but it does more harm than good, especially to the person who does the fighting.”

And MK leaves it at that, but thinks he doesn’t mind if it harms him, if it keeps everyone else safe.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

“Another story!” MK begs, spinning on the barstool.  Pigsy always tells him not to, something about wearing down the seat joint, but at the same time Pigsy never really stops MK when he does it either, because MK only does it when he’s very excited and hyper.

Tang finishes his bowl of noodles with a chuckle, pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose in a practiced motion that MK is oh so familiar with.  MK taps the front of his sketchbook with his pencil impatiently.

“Alright, alright.  Tell you what, I’ll tell you the story of the Baigujing, or White Bone Spirit,” Tang’s voice falls into storyteller mode, and MK is immediately entranced.  Pigsy, from the kitchen, slams down a pan and groans.

“Not that one, Tang.  I hate that one, you know that,” MK turns to his boss and is surprised to see an embarrassed flush on his cheeks.  What in this story would Pigsy have to be embarrassed about?

“Hey, MK wants to know all the Monkey King stories.  I’m not going to rob him of knowledge,” Tang argues back.  He leans close to MK and whispers “Pigsy couldn’t sleep for a week after I told him this one.”

“That is not true!” Pigsy barks, indignant, and MK laughs.

Tang chuckles to himself, and Pigsy turns back to his work with a grumble.  Right now is a lull in business, right after the lunch rush and before early dinners get called in, so MK is taking his break and Pigsy isn’t too upset by it.  It’s just enough time for a story.

“Okay.  The Baigujing was a shapeshifting demon, who saw Monkey King and his group of traveling companions as they passed by.  Her eyes caught on the human monk, Tang Sanzang,” MK perks up.

“Hey, that’s like your name!” he points out, and both Tang and Pigsy look startled.  Tang coughs, awkward.

“Yes-well-uh, it’s a family name,” he amends quickly.  MK tilts his head to the side.  “Anyway, she decided she wanted to taste the monk’s flesh.  So, she disguised herself as a little girl, coming up to the group and offering them poisoned fruits.  Because she was so powerful, only Monkey King could sense her treachery, and he hit her with his staff, seemingly killing her.”

MK gasps, doesn’t understand the fury that builds behind his eyes.

Tang glances at him, for a moment, and then jumps.

“MK?  You okay?” He asks, and MK blinks.

“What-yeah!  What happened next?” Tang looks him over, gaze catching on MK’s eyes, before he sighs and continues.

“The Monkey King’s companions were shocked and appalled.  They thought he had killed an innocent girl!  He tried to explain, but they didn’t believe him.  The Monk buried the girl, who turned back into the spirit.  She tried again, once as the supposed mother of the little girl, and then the grandfather.  Monkey King managed to show her as a skeleton spirit during their last encounter, clearing his name, but then his companion, Bajie, told Sanzang that Monkey King made it up.  Thus, Monkey King was abandoned, at least until the Monk was captured by a demon Wujing and Baijie couldn’t defeat, and Bajie had to apologize to bring him back,” Tang finishes, and MK’s face settles into a pout.

“Bajie’s a jerk!” He crosses his arms.

“He apologized,” Pigsy mumbles, from his place in the kitchen, where he slices scallions violently.  “More than once.  Not that it matters.” 

“Monkey King didn’t exactly endear himself to his peers,” Tang amends.  “Perhaps if he had been less full of himself at the time, they all could have gotten along better.  But, all four grew to be better people by the end of their journey.”

MK finishes a sketch of the scenes Tang had described with a flourish, and he tilts his head to one side.  “Kind of rude to just attack the lady, though, couldn’t he have tried to talk it out?” He doesn’t know why he feels the need to defend the demon, but she doesn’t seem too bad.  

Tang makes a face.

“She wanted to eat a person, MK,” he says, and MK makes a face that mirror’s Tang’s expression.

“Right.  Eugh, gross.  Anyway, thanks Mr. Tang!” he hops off the barstool and puts back on his collared shirt, making sure his headband doesn’t slip down.  “Any orders, Pigsy?”

Pigsy jerks his thumb to the few on the counter.  MK picks them up, and continues on to work, the story sitting in the back of his mind.  He stumbles a bit while walking.  He doesn’t feel the key in his hand, his fingers numbed over time.  He should be concerned, but everything else seems fine.

He kind of wishes he could have met the Baigujing.  She doesn’t seem too bad, besides the people eating.  Maybe they could have worked it out.

Who does Sun Wukong think he is, deciding to serve justice anyway he sees fit?

MK frowns and buttons up his shirt.  His chest feels like ice.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s so, so tired.

MK looks at himself in the mirror when he wakes up and his skin looks paler, his lips a little blue.  He has bags under his eyes that vanish by the time he leaves the bathroom, a bottle of concealer and a tube of lipstick on the bathroom sink that he doesn’t remember buying.

His memory’s been growing spottier, too, missing minutes, hours.  Mei talks to him about a high score he beat at the arcade and he nods along, no clue what she’s talking about but not wanting to worry her.  He hasn’t gone to see Sandy in what feels like years, but gets a text from him thanking MK for taking care of the cats one afternoon.  There are sketches in his sketchbook he doesn’t remember drawing, from stories Tang told him that he can’t remember hearing.

He’s lost feeling in his hands and feet.  He’s dropped enough bowls of soup for Pigsy to go from mad to worried, and he shoves MK off to Flower Fruit Mountain because it’s warmer there, and MK always looks cold.  

He stumbles when he hits sand, nearly bowls over with how much the island rejects him, how much it wants him not to be there.  This is supposed to be a safe place, but the sand feels like needles and the wind slices at his face.  Monkey King comes rushing out like a bat out of hell, teeth bared, but he sees MK, kneeling on the beach, and runs over.

“You okay, bud?  You look…,” he doesn’t say awful, but MK knows he’s thinking it.  MK looks awful, feels awful, is awful.  And the solution to that is right there, waiting for him, but he doesn’t want to take it because he’s a coward.  The voice in his head gave him an ironclad idea, a perfect plan, and he’s been ignoring it because he’s scared.

Weak little vessel.

The hiss in his ear makes him wince, and he trembles as Monkey King helps him up.

“Tired,” he manages, leaning against Monkey King because he hardly has the strength to stand.  

“I can see that.” The try at levity has MK chuckling, but Monkey King is soft and warm and all MK wants to do is suck that warmth into himself, so he can stop being cold for one second.  “Why don’t we head to my place and watch something.  There’s always my show, right?”

MK nods, blinking slowly, and Monkey King takes a step forward.  Suddenly, they’re at Monkey King’s house.  When did they get there?  Why are they here again?

He’s set on the couch.

“There’s something off about your aura, kid.  Touch anything mystic or weird back at home?” Monkey King runs his fingers through MK’s hair, and MK leans into the touch.  Warm.  Safe.  

He shakes his head, a full minute after the question is asked.  Monkey King hums in thought.

“How do you even see auras?” MK mumbles, words slurring a bit as he talks.  “Teach me?”

Monkey King’s hand stills, and MK whines a little, prompting his mentor to continue the motions.

“I already have, bud,” Monkey King whispers, more to himself than to MK.  MK blinks in confusion.  He doesn’t remember that.

Rest, Vessel.

The voice whispers so sweetly in his ear.  It’s nice, sometimes.  Mean other times.  MK wonders if that’s his fault.  Is he so bad that even his own head is mad at him?  How can he be better?  He’s trying so hard.

The TV is turned on.  MK doesn’t register the sound, but the light makes him turn his head away.  Monkey King turns down the brightness with his remote.  Another monkey rests on top of MK for a moment, before jumping off.  It shivers at the temperature of MK’s jacket, his skin, and moves over to Monkey King’s shoulder.

MK rests his head on Monkey King’s lap, and closes his eyes.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up in a dream.  He stands on ice.  Each step he takes is careful, lest he slip, and even still he stumbles and fumbles.  He can see something in the distance.

“Hello?” he calls out, but the person doesn’t answer.  The closer he gets, the more he can make them out.  “Mei?”

It is her, but then her head drops, straight off of her neck.

“NO!” MK screams, running to her, and he stumbles and falls.  His knees hit ice and they burn with the chill that sinks through his pants.  He slides to her body, cradling it and her head as if he could put her back together with hope.

He turns, looking for a reason for this, and when he looks up, all of the adults in his life are standing around him, their faces covered in shadow.  Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Monkey King—they’re all looking down on him.

“Look what you let happen,” Pigsy growls out.

“She’s dead,” Tang continues.

“You didn’t save her,” Sandy drones on.

“You let her die,” Monkey King spits.

“No…” MK breathes, and the tears build in his eyes and down his cheeks, freezing on his face.  It burns.

You have a choice, vessel.

The figures of his friends vanish into mist, and MK curls his arms around himself.  He misses the contact.  He hates to be alone.

A woman wreathed in white kneels down in front of him.  It hurts to look at her, and MK averts his gaze until she tilts up his chin so he can look nowhere else.  Her face is ice cold, yet inviting.  He can’t look away from her eyes.

Don’t you want them to stay?  Don’t you want them to be safe?

MK nods, quickly.  Of course that’s what he wants.  More than anything, he wants that love, that adoration.  He wants his family to be safe, to never leave.

You know what to do.

It feels like ice is creeping up his skin, encasing him in frigidity.  She holds out his hand, and he can do nothing else but take it.  The cold reaches its peak, and suddenly it’s warm.  It burns, and yet the warmth is inviting, a relief after months of being so, so cold and confused and tired.  He is past the point of cold, of freezing, of sub zero.  He is warm.  He is ready.  

He is hers.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He wakes up well rested, and the cold that had settled into him still feels like the burn that is a welcome respite from before.  Monkey King is still asleep, and MK leaves him there, leaving the house and walking slowly out of the inner mountain.  

He leaves footprints of ice where he steps.  The monkeys watch, from the trees, trembling as their eyes gaze upon something inhuman, sitting in MK’s skin.  MK has never felt better.  He knows what to do now.  He knows how to make things right.

The staff in his hands feels heavier, for a moment, but MK grips it tight and bends it to his will.  He pogos out of the island with ease, letting the wind whip his hair back.

He hasn’t blinked in a while.  He forgot he had to.  He blinks because the wind makes his eyes sting, and touches the ground with a gentleness he didn’t know he could master.

He lets his eyes glow gold, searching.  He remembers, now, how to look at auras.  He remembers a lot of things now.  It’s like the pressing weight of being weak for the sake of niceties has vanished, and now he is sharp and ready.

The only question is which of his enemies does he go after first?  He needs to get all of them, keep them secure.  It’s the only way the town, the city, will be safe.

The small fry first.  We’ll work our way up to the demon king.

Right, that makes sense.  MK grins to himself.  It’s so nice to have someone constantly helping, constantly making sure he’s doing the right thing.  He’s useless on his own, but give him a direction and he’ll follow it to the letter.

He can see gold and silver, in the distance.  He forgets their names, at first, but their auras jog his memory.  Yin and Jin.

They put him in the calabash.  They weren’t good at it, but they were good enough.  They’re demons.  Dangerous.  He needs to make sure they don’t hurt anyone else.  

He heads to their home, not in a hurry.  There’s no rush to the inevitable.  Is this what self confidence is?  The feeling of knowing you can do it, that you will do it, that no one can stop you?  It feels very gratifying.  He lets the glow in his eyes vanish, because he doesn’t want to startle everyone around him.  

His phone buzzes.  A text from Pigsy, demanding to know where he is.  He responds with ‘Dealing with Monkie Kid stuff.  Be back soon!’ and a string of emojis that Pigsy will find incomprehensible, before continuing on his trek.

He reaches the door, and hears a conversation.

“So, our plan has three steps.  That’s an improvement,” Yin seems to be pacing, from what MK can hear.

“Step one, capture the monkie kid,” Jin pipes up, and MK fights back a laugh.  “Step two, take the staff from him.” 

As if they could.  MK almost has to admire their tenacity.

“Step three, take over the world!” Yin finishes, and MK takes that as his cue to step in.

He knocks in the door.  Polite.  He still has manners, after all.

“Huh?  Jin, did you order out for dinner again?” Yin barks out.

“We don’t have the money for that!” Is the response.

“Hasn’t stopped you before,” Yin grumbles, moving to the door.

Here they come!

MK counts the steps Yin takes to the door, itching with anticipation.

“Hello?” Yin opens the door, and then jumps in surprise.

“Hi!” MK waves, and taps his staff on the ground.

There’s a thunk; not a thud of a body, but a thunk of a block of ice.  MK pats the statue with a fond look.  He’ll chip away the extra pieces later.  This is his first attempt, it’s normal for it to be less precise.  He can get better at it with practice.  Jin turns, from his place at the desk, and his eyes widen when he sees his brother, frozen on the floor.

“Yin—what did you do?” Red eyes glow dangerously, and MK wonders if they would be more ferocious if he threatened one over the other.  Jin gets up, teeth bared.

“This,” MK replies, tapping his staff on the ground.

Jin takes a step forward and freezes in place. Or, is frozen, MK supposes.  He looks at the brothers, safely imprisoned, and wonders.  Where is he going to put them?  There’s not enough room here for all of his enemies to be placed.  What’s a good place to set everything up?

The cave?  The old villain hideout?  

That’s perfect!  After all, it would be the funniest form of irony, right?  Turning a villain hideout to his base for his world saving plan.  Gosh, he’s so smart.  Because this is him, all him.  He finally is smart enough to know what to do.  He has to clear out the cave, first.  It’s not far away, hidden beneath the sewers.  There’s a path to it from the area where the staff used to lie.

He sets Yin and Jin next to each other, considering their poses.  He thinks they look a little off, but he can fix that, right?  He can fix anything, given enough time.  That’s what all this is, fixing the problem of demons who’ve escaped because of DBK’s release.  He nods to himself, and heads off.  He has rocks to clear out, he has a cave to excavate.

But, he promised Pigsy that he’d be back soon.  That stops him short.  He can’t skip work!

This will make him far happier in the long run.

Still, what’s a few hours of work to make Pigsy happy now?  He shakes off the one track mind and puts his staff away.  The ice won’t melt fast (or at all) and he’s got time.  The flash of cold he gets in response to that thought doesn’t inspire comfort, and he second guesses himself a few times, but he heads to the shop anyway.

“Hey Pigsy!” he waves, and Pigsy glances at him and jerks a thumb over to the pile of orders on the counter.  “On it!” 

MK swoops them up and sets them all on the delivery cart.  Pigsy glances at him again, and then freezes.

“MK?” he asks.

MK turns, blinking a few times.  “Yeah?” he responds, and Pigsy peers at him, almost suspicious.

MK tilts his head to the side in confusion.  A part of him is glad that he has concealer on, because they don’t have the time to chat about MK’s new skin tone, not with all these orders.  He watches Pigsy shiver, muttering something about the A/C acting up, before Pigsy shakes himself off and sets his hands on his hips.

“I thought-your eyes-nevermind.  Get those orders out!” Pigsy barks, and MK stands at attention, giving Pigsy a salute.

“On it!” He promises, sliding out of the shop and hopping onto the delivery cart.

It only takes an hour, which is much faster than he usually is, but focus comes easy when he’s driven.  The faster he gets this done they faster he gets to get back to his real work.  The work that will make things better for everyone.

Right. Of course.

His shift ends when the store closes, and he’s gone before Pigsy can say anything about his work ethic or ask where MK has been or is going.  He rushes to the construction site, dives below, rushing past the decaying plants where there once were flowers and a growing tree.  Without Monkey King’s staff, there’s nothing making sure the plants live.  MK frowns at the sight but stays focused on the task at hand.

Aim.  The staff can be as large as a mountain if it needs to be.  Crush what’s in your way.

He nods to himself, breaking through the rubble that has blocked off the tunnel.  The ground shakes, the whole underground rumbles with power, and he hopes he’s not keeping anyone up.  Then again, it’s not too bad if it’s just for a night, considering how many nights later he’s going to keep quiet.  Everyone will be able to rest easy once he’s done.  

He huffs a breath, and it comes out white.  He should be concerned, but honestly it looks cool.  He remembers to blink, because his eyes are starting to burn.  He doesn’t know why he keeps forgetting.

He makes his way to the cavern, and uses ice to keep the ceiling up.  Pillars rise, frost fills the spaces between rocks that would have cracked and splintered eventually.  The floor remains untouched, save for when he fills in the cracks that could trip someone up.

He doesn’t remember when he got these ice powers.  They seem new?  Why hasn’t he used them before?  How come Monkey King never told him about them?

Monkey King’s always had ice powers.

Has he?  MK isn’t so sure about that.

You’re his successor, not a carbon copy.  It makes sense you would have different powers than him.

Right.  MK nods to himself.  Now, time to get Yin and Jin!  Carrying them is going to be a challenge.

It takes him an hour to get them both there, and another half hour to figure out where to put them.  He has to consider DBK’s size.  Wait, does he have to go and get the spider demon lady?  He shivers at the thought, a deep well of terror sinking in his gut.  Even as self assured as he is now, spiders still terrify him.

I can take care of that.

Really?

Yes.  But first, rest.

Right.  He needs to head back to his house.  Pigsy will be worried if he doesn’t come home soon.  He heads out of the construction site, skipping all the way home.

He barely sleeps.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The week is certainly a busy one.  MK spends any time not with his friends searching, and he spends far less time with his friends, nowadays.  The spider demon isn’t easy to find.  He does manage to get some small fry lesser demons he hadn’t met before and now never will.  He doesn’t need to meet people who will inevitably try to kill him and those around him.  Far better to prevent the attack than deal with the aftermath thereof.

His collection of ice sculptures is growing.  MK likes to spend time chipping away at the blocks to them more polished.  It’s like sketching, in a way, or cleaning up a sketch.  It also gives him an opportunity to practice a more precise use of his ice powers.  He can make a mean ice chisel now, and he’s learned how to force the limbs of those frozen into the position he likes.  Yin and Jin stand on top of each other, like they did in their introduction.  The expressions on their faces aren’t what he likes, but he can cover it with frost and it’s like it was never there.

He meets up with Mei, one afternoon.

“Hey, MK!” She barrels into him, and immediately jumps back.

He reaches out, missing the contact, but she shakes out a shiver.  “Dang, you’re cold!” She slugs him on the shoulder, and he laughs.

“I feel fine.  Maybe you’re just being dramatic,” he shoots back, and she laughs with him, before her eyes glance at his face and she freezes.  “What?”

“Your eyes,” she murmurs, all joking replaced with concern.  He tilts his head to a side in confusion.  “They’re blue?” She adds.

“Oh!” he says, and the words that come out of his mouth don’t sound like him at all.  He doesn’t think he thought of them, and he doesn’t feel his lips move but the sound comes out anyway.  “I’m trying out some contacts.  Do you like them?” He bats his eyelashes at her, all in jest.

Her confusion melts into a smile. “I like your regular eye color better,” She admits.  “But those look cool!”  

She grabs him by his wrist, using his jacket as a buffer, and drags him to an arcade.  Every machine he touches sticks a little, the joystick and button a tad frozen by his touch, and he doesn’t win a match by any means, but he doesn’t mind.  Every time Mei leans close to him it feels like a victory.  Even though he feels warm, at least a sort of freezer burn warmth, the people around him have pulled away.  He’s too cold for them.  

He needs contact.  

Someone trips Mei as they’re running around the arcade.  Her nose bleeds, and MK feels his hackles rising.  Someone hurt his friend.  A demon?  A scan of the area reveals no such thing.  Just a mean person.  He can hear them snickering as they walk away.

Mei is more important than MK’s anger, so he takes her outside and finds some tissues, cleans her up.  He takes her out to her favorite restaurant (not Pigsy’s, though they’ll never tell him that) and they end the night with a race around town.  Her bike is an electric green streak, and he’ll never catch up, but he gives it his all before they finish outside his place.

“See ya later!” Mei still sounds a bit stuffed up from the nosebleed, and MK waves until she’s out of sight.  When she disappears, his expression shutters, anger against her unrecognizable assailant returning in a flash.

He’s been getting rid of demons, but that’s not enough!  Mei still got hurt, because people are unpredictable.  He heads to his room and paces.  How can he fix it, how can he make it better?

Maybe more than demons should be frozen.

MK stops in his tracks.  Now, there’s an idea.  But to freeze them forever, that seems like too much.

Not forever.  Just until they know how to behave.  Think of it as a pause button.

It would be nice if things just stopped for a moment.  Then he could have all the time in the world to fix it.  Once he gets the demons out of the way, he can do that.  Then, once everyone learns to behave, they can come out.  However long that takes.

He can be patient, for his friends.  This is all for them, after all.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A day after that, and he’s found the Spider Demon’s lair.  Every step he takes inside makes him shake, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to take her.  He’s so nervous, so scared.

I can help, remember?  Just take a deep breath.

He takes a deep breath.

Close your eyes.

He closes his eyes.  

He doesn’t open them, but they open anyway.  Everything is washed in a soft layer of white, like frost, and his body moves but he doesn’t tell it to.  The fear he felt is muted, and he settles into the comfort of its absence.  He asked for this, right?

The spider demon—she wanted to be a Queen, right?  MK hadn’t been really paying attention when she went on her rant, too petrified to listen—skitters out, and when she locks eyes with him, she smiles.

“Aww, is the little monkie boy back to play?” She giggles, and MK’s body throws the staff at her.  She ducks with a yelp, and scrambles back.  “Ooo, we’re rough, now?  Seems you’re not so scared anymore,” She purrs, but he can hear the nervousness in her voice as the staff comes back to his hand.

“Iͥ ʷgͣˢoᶰtͤ ͮoͤvͬeˢrͨ ͣiͬtͤᵈ.” The sound comes out of his mouth, and it doesn’t sound much like MK at all.  Huh.  His body takes a step forward, and ice spreads out from beneath his foot.  “Tͭuͧrͬᶰnˢs ͦoͧuͭtʸ,ͦ ͧyˢoͪuͦ'ͧˡrͩe ͪnͣoͮtͤ ᵇtͤhͤᶰeʷ ͦsͬcͬaͥrͤiͩesͣᵇtͦ ͧdͭemͫoͤn ͥoͫuᶠtͬ ͤtͤhere.” 

The Spider Queen’s expression shifts, and she tries to run, but MK’s legs are faster. He watches himself move, jumping over stones and cliffs and any obstacle.  The webs she tries to trap him in freeze, and he slides across them as if his feet were skates.

Eventually, he corners her.  MK watches his body close in, and suddenly he’s back in control, staring her down.  Satisfaction crawls up his back, a cold grin splitting his face in two.

“ʷWͪhͦˢoˢ'ͨsͣ ͬsͤcͩaᶰrͦʷed now?” He grins, and she screams.

Ice, it turns out, is a great muffler.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Finding DBK’s hiding place is harder.  MK locates it just outside the city limits, in an abandoned scrapyard.  The perfect place to get parts for new bull clones and other random things Red Son can come up with.

He decides to go on the weekend, but as he prepares the night before Monkey King makes an appearance in his room.

“Hey, bud,” MK jumps at his arrival.

He must have been hiding as a bug or something, like when MK first found the staff.

“Monkey King!” He grins at his arrival, hopping up.  “What’s the occasion?  Is there something new you wanted to teach me?  Is there a demon we have to fight?”  We, not as in MK and Monkey King, but MK and himself.  Because he’s not one, not really, and that’s fun!  He hates being alone, after all.

“No, no,” Monkey King chuckles, overly fond.  Right, MK hasn’t been to Flower Fruit Mountain for a week.  “It’s just-you left pretty early, and, uh, you didn’t say anything about our next training sesh, you know?  And, uhh, pretty sure you shouldn’t be slacking off on that.”

The half hearted scolding aside, MK almost thinks that Monkey King missed him.  But that’s ridiculous.

“Well, you were sleeping when I got up, and I had to go to work,” The lie slips easily off of his tongue.  “I didn’t want to wake you, so I left!  Um, we’re busy tomorrow, but Sunday works for training, if that’s cool?” He rocks back and forth on his feet, ever excited.

“We’re?  Who’s cooler than me to hang out with?” Monkey King reaches out to ruffle his hair, and MK can feel the shiver that jolts through the monkey’s body at the touch.  Monkey King doesn’t comment on it, though.

“I promised Mei we’d hang out.  It’s been a busy week at the shop, so I haven’t been able to party with her,” He doesn’t know where these lies are coming from.

Sometimes he talks and it’s not him at all.  He should be concerned, but honestly he doesn’t mind if his other self takes the reigns.  He fumbles over his words way too often to be annoyed that someone is smoothing him out.

Polished like an ice sculpture; MK thinks he could be beautiful if he was like that.

“Alright, fine.  You and your friend can….do whatever it is kids do these days.  Am I an adult—oh my god I’m an adult,” Monkey King flops back onto his nimbus cloud with a groan while MK giggles.  

“Anyway, get some rest, bud.  You look tired,” is the last thing Monkey King says to him.

“On it!” MK salutes, and Monkey King floats through the window and then rockets off.  The papers in MK’s room all swirl from the blowback, and MK grabs one of the sketches that floats back down.

He doesn’t remember the last time he asked Tang for a story. The last time he sketched anything else at all.  But, a hero doesn’t need hobbies so trivial.

He plans.  Plans for how the city is going to look like, when he’s finished with it all.  He doesn’t need to write down the steps to get there, he has his head voice for that, but the city.  How it will look, when he’s done.  He has to figure it out, draw it out, and pin it to the wall so he can look at it every morning and evening and remember why he’s doing this.  So he sketches.  Pins the piece to the wall.  

Squints.  He doesn’t like it.  

Back to the drawing board.

His wall is covered by the time the sun rises, and MK still isn’t satisfied.  But there is no time to waste.  So, he picks up the outfit that feels all the more new—blue isn’t a color he expected to like, but blue is cold is safe is good is the burning warmth he needs, so he leaves the orange jacket and red headband hanging off of his desk chair.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he can barely tell the difference!

He is gone before Pigsy comes up with breakfast, before Pigsy calls for Tang to look at the mess MK left behind, enough drawings of the same thing for anyone to get the picture.  He is gone before Pigsy and Tang investigate, speak in hushed tones, and call for Sandy, Mei, and eventually Monkey King.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Getting to the outskirts of town is the easy part.  Infiltrating DBK’s base is a bit harder.  It’s not heavily fortified, but MK thinks that’s more because he has never tried to infiltrate such a place.  He doesn’t really attack first, he just protects.  But that’s not good enough anymore, clearly.  He can’t just be protective, he needs to be proactive.

He slides past the guards, freezes them for good measure.  After all, they’re going to be made useless once he takes their leader down, so it’s not as if he’s wasting anything.  There’s also always the chance they get wise, and MK doesn’t want his entrance ruined.

The inner sanctum of the base looks more like a house, made large to accommodate DBK’s figure.  There are pictures on the wall, from painted portraits to black and white to color photos.  MK supposes that the Demon Bull Family has been around long enough to have portraits taken in all sorts of mediums.  He wonders if they have statues, a shrine?  He bites back a giggle at the thought.

The booming sound of cloven footsteps alerts MK to DBK’s arrival, though by the sounds of two voices approaching, Princess Iron Fan must be with him.

“Red Son has been pulling away from us,” the gravel in DBK’s voice is soft, somehow.  MK listens in with interest.  What is it they are doing to their son now?

“You tried to kill him.  He can’t help but take it personally,” is Princess Iron Fan’s reply.  “He barely knows you, and he’s young.  He’ll grow out of it,” she waves a hand, unconcerned.

MK glares at them.  The temperature in the hallway drops, until Princess Iron Fan shivers.

“Darling, I thought this house had a heating function?” Princess Iron fan curls her arms around herself, and DBK picks her up and sets her on his shoulder, suddenly on guard.

“It does, the boy made it so,” he growls, sniffing around for intruders.  MK decides to let himself be known.

“Hi!” he says as he pops out from around the corner.

“Noodle boy?” Princess Iron Fan questions.

“Little Thief,” DBK growls.

“Actually, I go by MK,” he corrects cheerily.  “But, anyway, could you hold still?  This will be harder if you move,” He twirls his staff casually.  DBK growls, and Princess Iron Fan places a hand on the side of his face to silence him.

“MK,” Princess Iron Fan starts, with a forced air of politeness.  “We are in your debt for helping save my husband.  However, if you attack us, we will have no choice but to fight back, and we will not be kind.”

She grins, self assured, and continues  “And you know what happened the last time you tried to fight me.”

Fire.  Volcanoes.  She had tried to kill him and, more importantly, she had made his friends cry.  But things have changed, haven’t they?

MK giggles.  The sound echoes, and the hallway gets colder.  Frost crawls over the walls, and MK looks up with eyes that glow.

“Aͣcͨtͭuͧaͣˡlˡlʸy,ͥ Iͭ ͪtͥᶰhᵏiʸnͦkͧ ˢyͪoͦuͧˡ'ͩllͬ ͧᶰfiͥᶠnʸdͦ ͧmᵏeᶰ ͦʷtʷoͪ ͣbͭˢeᵍ ͦhͦaͩrᶠdͦeͬrʸ ͦtͧo ᶰbͦeͭatͭ ͪtͣhͭaʸnͦ ͧbeͨfͣᶰorͤˢeͨᵃᵖᵉ,” He jumps up with a smile, and sprints forward.

Something dawns on her face, and Princess Iron Fan stands.

“Darling, we need to run,” She says, quickly, but MK jumps and bounces off of the walls and is eye to eye with her before she can explain.

She doesn’t even have time to grab her fan.

DBK jumps back as the block of ice slides off his shoulder and he roars.

“Father?!” MK hears Red Son’s voice from afar and ignores that for now.

“I will tear you to pieces you ingrate!” DBK shouts, and MK laughs.

“ʸYͦoͧu ͨcͦoͧˡuͩᶰlͭdnͤ'ͮtͤᶰ ˢeͭvͦᵖenͫ ͤbʷeͪaͤᶰt ͥmʷeͣˢ wͥᶰhʸeͦnͧ ͬI ͪwͤaͣsͩnʸ'ͦtͧ ᶠtͦrͦˡying!” he shouts back, dodging a blow that sinks DBK’s fist in the wall.

The frost slides from the wall to DBK’s arm, gluing him there.  He fires the gun on his other arm, and MK dodges. 

“Nͥiͩcͥeͦ ͭshot!” He dances around the room.

DBK takes a step in the wrong direction, and slips on the ice cube that is his wife, dropping to the ground.  MK wastes no time, and DBK’s roar is silenced abruptly.

Finally.

Finally.

“Noodle Boy!  What on earth are you doing?!” Red Son looks rather steamed, if the smoke coming off of him is any indication.

“Hi, Red Son!  I was just taking care of your parents,” MK gestures to the popsicles on the floor.  Red Son stares, face a mixture of confusion and horror, and MK barrels toward him.  “Now they can’t be mean to you anymore.  You can make fun inventions and not have to be a mean guy all the time!” Honestly, if anything, Red Son should be thanking MK, but MK doesn’t do this for thanks.  He takes a few hairs and blows on them, and his clones start to work on moving the new additions to his cave.

“You—” Red Son is at a loss for words before landing on “Give me back my parents!”

See, MK was worried about that.  He would likely have responded the same, when he first left his parents.

“But I worked hard to get them out of the way!” MK pouts.  “But, I get it.  You don’t understand.  You just need to ᵍcͤoͭolͦ ͧdͭowͦᶠn,ͦ ͧoͬkʷaͣʸy?” MK reaches out, places a hand on Red Son’s shoulder before he can be stopped, and Red Son is going to freeze too, when—

Red Son explodes, and MK burns.

It’s not enough to melt the ice, no, but MK is thrown back against the wall, eyes wide.

The chill in his bones vanishes with a screech, and all he can hear is screaming.  For a moment, something rises within him.  

This is wrong.

He shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t be.

He isn’t a bad person, he isn’t cruel. He wouldn’t do this.  

He needs to stop, he needs to—

And then the flames vanish, and so does Red Son, and the cold slips back into place with brutal efficiency.  MK blinks, tries to remember where he is.  Right, DBK and Princess Iron Fan.  He got them!  Great.

His clones have been destroyed in the blaze, so he makes some new ones, and heads back to base.  

A shame he couldn’t get Red Son to understand, but they all will soon enough.

Good job, vessel.

MK feels warm.  It burns.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He’s deliberating back at his hideout about where his newest statues should go when he hears a sharp gasp from behind him.  He turns, and Mei is looking at him with something that looks like horror, but that can’t be right.  Why would she be horrified by something so beautiful?

“MK?” she starts, cautiously.  “What…happened to you?  You look really bad, why are you wearing blue?”

“I like the color!” he asserts.  “And I’m fine!”

She purses her lips, and then tries again.

“Um...MK.  What is this?” She points to the frozen menagerie behind him.

MK does not pout, even though he feels like he should.

“You ruined the surprise,” he grumbles, arms crossed over his chest.  “I stopped all the bad guys!  See?” he gestures to them.  “Now they can’t hurt anyone.”

There’s a pause, before Mei can catch up, where MK asks, “Hey, do you think people would want to put them in a museum?” He taps his chin with his index finger, deliberating.

“How did you...does Monkey King have powers like this?” she tries, a third time.

“No, I don’t,” MK jumps at the sound of Monkey King’s voice.  Monkey King floats down on his cloud, hopping off and looking at MK with an air of suspicion.  “Kid, how are you doing this?  Why are you doing this?”

“‘Cause they hurt you guys,” MK has been itching for a chance to explain, to get someone to understand.  “And the-my head voice gave me the idea.  Once these guys are all gone, everyone can be safe, and no one will leave!”

“Head voice?” Pigsy comes from behind a pillar.  “MK, what are you talking about?”

“You know, the voice in your head that sounds like you?” He explains.  “It-it told me how to do it.  And I’m not a carbon copy of Monkey King, it makes sense that I’d have a few new powers, you know?”

“No,” Tang appears, from somewhere.

When did all of his friends get here?  He can see Sandy, Mo in tow on his shoulder, peeking in. 

“You shouldn’t have any deviations.  Maybe your transformations would be different, but to go so far as to have ice powers?” Tang pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, and his glasses flash.  “That shouldn’t be possible, given Monkey King’s power set.”

“What’s going on, kid?” Sandy’s voice is very soft, as he approaches, just like when they were on the boat.  

“Nothing!” MK’s voice is cheery as ever.  “I’m just fixing things, okay?  I think you need to ˢcͪhͧiͭllͧᵖ ʷoͧʲuͥᶰtᵍ,” he reaches forward, and Sandy and Mo are ice.

Mei screams.

“What?” MK looks on, bewildered, as his friends stare at him in horror.  “He’ll be fine!  It doesn’t hurt.  I’ve been freezing for ages!  It gets warm after a while.”

His eyes glow, and Tang pales.

“Baigujing,” he breathes, and MK turns to him.

“What about her?” he asks, and Tang puts a hand to his mouth, biting his lip and glancing between the rest of the group and MK, unsure.

“Bud,” Monkey King takes a few cautious steps toward MK, as if MK were a cornered animal.  His feet slip a little on the ice, but not enough to stop his careful approach.  His tail is poised and very still, not so much as a twitch from it.  “I think you’re feeling a bit...um, scrambled right now.  Why don’t you hand me the staff, and we can talk about this?” He gives MK a soft smile, but MK frowns.

If he takes the staff you can’t finish your work! Does he think you don’t deserve it anymore?

“But I need it,” he responds, simple and to the point.  “It’s mine.”  Right?  Because Monkey King gave it to him.  Gifts can’t be taken back, right?  MK’s still worthy, right?

Monkey King takes a deep breath, like he’s biting back a retort.

“Preeeeetty sure I let you borrow it.  ‘S called ‘Monkey King’s Staff’ for a reason, bud.  C’mon.” 

Another step forward.  MK grips the staff tighter.  

“MK, please,” Tang calls from his other side.

Don’t let him take it!

“We need you to let go!” Mei’s voice hits his ears.

They’re all lying to you!  

“Kid-I-c’mon, just let ‘em have it and we can go home,” Pigsy’s voice breaks, and MK feels like he’s going to break with it.

Is he even going to let you keep your home?!

Monkey King is close enough that MK can feel the heat of his power emanating off of him, of the great Sun Wukong.  His paws are soft and somehow even warmer than his power as he curls them around MK’s grip on the staff.

They don’t understand! They’re going to abandon you!

“That’s it, easy does it,” Relief colors Monkey King’s tone, and he smiles at MK as if MK were the sun.  It’s too soft to be true.  “Just hand it over, and we’ll make sure everything’s okay, alright?”

He starts to tug, pulling the staff out of MK’s grip ever so gently, and MK flinches as the voice rings loud in his ear.

YOU NEED IT DON’T LET HIM TAKE IT FROM YOU HE’LL RUIN EVERYTHING—

“It’s MͫIͥᶰNͤE!” MK shouts, and he slams the side of it into Monkey King’s stomach and launches his mentor across the room.

Monkey King crashes into the wall, groaning as he pushes away the falling rubble.  MK’s eyes are wild.  

“It’s mine, and you can’t have it!  I need it!” Ice crawls over his right hand, cementing his grip.  

Tang sees it, takes a step back, and turns to the two horrified bystanders.

“Run!” he shouts, and Mei bolts.  Pigsy stares, motioning for Tang to run, but Tang is too close to MK to do anything.

“What’d you do that for?” MK frowns, lowering a hand onto Tang’s shoulder.  Pigsy makes a choked sound.

“Go!  Bajie, get out of here!” Tang shouts, far more desperate than MK expected.  Why is everyone so terrified?  This is just a misunderstanding.

“Okay, tͭiͦmͦeˡ ͣoͭuͤt ͭfͦorͬ ͧᶰyˢoͣᶰuᶻᵃᶰᵍ,” MK pats Tang’s shoulder once, and Tang is rooted to the spot.  MK freezes him slower, because Tang isn’t strong, merely smart.  And if he does it slow, then he doesn’t have to chisel away the extra later.

Mei comes roaring in on her bike, and she picks up Pigsy by the back of his chef’s coat, throws him on the back of her bike, and zooms off.

“Tang!” Pigsy screams, but his voice gets farther and farther away.

“What’s wrong?” MK is so confused.  He looks to Monkey King, who is just sitting there on his cloud, horrified.

“Sun Wukong,” Tang says, voice hard.  The ice is up to his chest.  “Get out of here.  Bajie is going to be a wreck after this.”

“Can you make sense!” MK throws his hands up, tired of being ignored, talked over, walked over.  “Or at least ˢsͪtͧoͭp ͧᵖtalking!” And Tang goes silent, frozen.

MK turns back to Monkey King, and finds that his mentor has vanished.

Well, that won’t do.

After them!

MK jumps onto a disk of ice and slides across stone, feet still as the ice barrels over any obstacle, leading him past the dead sliver of a great mountain and up onto the streets.  Mei just has made her way to ground level, aided up by Monkey King, and MK zeroes in on them.

They pass by cars, and MK ignores the blaring horns as he slides over city streets.  The ice trailing behind him makes cars swerve out of control, but he needs to get to his friends.  They have to understand.  This is all for them!

The ice shoots forward, and he gets closer and closer, until Mei’s back wheel hits frost and the back of the bike jerks one way, the front the other.  The bike slips onto its side with immediacy, and Pigsy and Mei go sprawling as Mei’s bike falls apart, skidding across the ice.

Oh no.

“Mei!” he runs to her side.  

She groans, her bike suit torn.  He doesn’t even think about Pigsy at the moment, too worried about his best friend to think of the other person he hurt.  Plus, Pigsy’s a full grown adult, and MK has never seen Pigsy hurt like Mei is, so it doesn’t even register that Pigsy could be as injured as she is.  Her left arm has a large patch of skin that’s been burnt off by the road, and her legs are bleeding from various places.  Thankfully, she was wearing a helmet, so MK doesn’t have to worry about something so serious.  

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.  Are you alright?  Where does it hurt?  I’m sorry!”

Some ice might help with the pain.

Right, right, icing the wound always helps.  He goes to make some, the power swirling in his hand, when a horn from a car blares, making him wince.  

Gosh, humans.  They’re so annoying!  If they could just stay out of the way, because he needs to fix this, that’d be great.

Remember the pause button?

It seems very inviting.  MK nods.  

Right.  A pause button.

“Just a sec, Mei,” he leaves her groaning on the ground, turning to face the city.

He slams his staff into the ground.

Ice shoots out in a wild dash.  It crawls over and into everything.  Cars, buildings, people—everything freezes.  He hears some screams, and watches people try and run for the hills, but the cold is faster. It billows down the streets, kicking up a white haze that is almost impossible to see through, that the pedestrians tripping on ice and solidifying get lost in, but it’s a snowy sheen that MK sees through perfectly. He can see the polished figures of buildings, glistening beneath their ice, the little mounds that must be people beneath the thick layer of ice. 

It’s all so pristine. So perfect.

Finally.

Finally.

MK is glad for the quiet.  With him and himself in his head, it’s hard to deal with outside noise. He just needed a moment of calm, to get to the task at hand.

The task at hand...Mei!

“Mei, are you—” he stops.  Mei and Pigsy aren’t there.  

His eyes search for them, and he can see Monkey King hurriedly pulling them up onto his cloud.  “Wait!”

Monkey King looks at him, and MK’s face is pleading.  He just wants to do right.  Why don’t they understand?  Once he fixes it all, everyone will be happy.  Can’t they wait?

“Sorry, bud,” Monkey King says.  

MK doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for. A rush of panic tries to grip his brain, something that was once so familiar, something that was once so him, but it disappears in MK’s desperation to act.

The cloud zooms off. He throws a hand out, running after it.

“NO!”

This is just like his dream.  At the edge of the city, a wall of ice rises.  It sparkles in the light of the setting sun, and MK raises it higher, and higher, as Monkey King and Mei and Pigsy and everyone he cares about most gets farther and farther away.

Monkey King punches through the ice, and they disappear into the horizon.

MK drops to his knees. They land hard on the frozen ground.

“You said they wouldn’t leave,” he whimpers out, crying because it hurts and he doesn’t know exactly why.

It’s more than just regular pain.  Something warm and different and yet familiar stings.  Something knows this isn’t right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!  If this was the right thing to do, why would everyone leave?

“I have to stop!” The words are forced out of his mouth.  

MK doesn’t know when the words are him and when the words are something else.  He doesn’t know who he is.  What’s right?  What’s wrong?  How can he tell?  

He’s just been listening to his own head, but his own head is arguing with itself.  

He slams his free fist into his temple, to try and make things settle.

Chains drag him to the ground, leaving him stuck.

You are doing everything just right.

The voice is soft in one ear, but on the other side MK hears No! On repeat.  No, this isn’t right.  You froze good people.  Innocent people!  You froze Tang and Sandy!  You made Pigsy cry!  You hurt Mei!

They don’t understand yet.  Monkey King is notoriously stubborn.  He isn’t ready for his successor to pass him yet.  All you have to do is wait for them to come back.  And they will.

It’s harder and harder to hear the argument against this.  

The voice sounds so self assured.  The warmth that doesn’t burn gets weaker and weaker, like a fire out of kindling.  

He wheezes, and tears turn to snowflakes on his skin.  He chokes on his own breath.  It comes out white and fogs his vision, but he can’t find it in himself to care.  

Everyone’s gone.  

He’s alone.  

This can’t be right.

It is.  You just haven’t done enough yet.

That, MK understands.  The need to do more, be more.  It makes far more sense that he hasn’t done enough, than anything else.

“They’ll come back?” He asks, and his voice sounds so loud in the quiet.  He feels a hand brush his hair back.  He leans into the touch, but it’s gone.

Of course.  

MK stands.  The chains vanish, and he smiles.

“Okay then!  Let’s get to work!”  

He hasn’t let go of the staff in ages.  He doesn’t think he can.  He turns to the mess he’d made in his rush job, the frozen city’s statue.  He has to fix that, it’s unsightly!  Mei and Pigsy and Monkey King won’t like a mess.

As he plans, as he hopes, he feels a smile in the back of his head.  It feels like a snowball to his skull, chilling and yet a comfort, somehow.

Wonderful work, Vessel.  We’re going to do great things together.

[star-spangledstud]

MIND GAMES - TWO

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve suggests dinner with the team. You find out you hate lying. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, anxiety 

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :)

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

A hail of half-empty wine glasses, trail mix and playing cards fly around the room when the coffee table they were stood on is flipped upside down. Your back hits the carpet with a dull thud, followed soon after by the back of your head. You wince loudly, hand reaching immediately for the base of your skull to relieve the throbbing pain that will no doubt leave you with a menacing headache for days to come.

The men in black, whose faces are nothing but a swirl of flesh tones in your peripheral, grab you by each ankle while you try to recover from your fall. They shout in a foreign language as glass shatters somewhere in one of the other rooms. Then, the sound of open gunfire and the scent of smoke and gunpowder pervade the air. You’re screaming, kicking your feet and flailing your arms wildly while they drag you along the floor, but the sound of your voice is drowned out by the shouting and the guns.

Glass and trailmix accumulate in your hair when they drag you across the room, and small pieces cut the back of your arms and legs. You’re crying, you can tell because your cheeks are warm and wet, and the tears flowing from your eyes mix with the blood of your dead family as they run down the length of your face.

The good thing is you know you’re having a bad dream, but the problem is that you’ve seen this scene unfold so many times that you’re not sure whether the memory of what happened is real or not. 

You’ve seen the scene play out well over one hundred times in your sleep. Red liquid flies through the air in slow motion, your assailants shove their weapons in your face, you try to run away but feel nailed to the ground. You’ve experienced it so many times, and have attempted to change what happens in so many instances. Still, whatever you do, the ending is always the same.

The faces of the men responsible for the murder of your family are blurry, not because you hit your head so hard you can’t see straight, but because you don’t remember what they look like. Their features are warped beyond recognition, and no matter how hard you try to focus on the words spilling from their mouths, you can’t identify any of what they’re saying. It almost sounds like you’re underwater.

In the dream, you try to remember where you are, but your immediate surroundings change every time. Sometimes the coffee table is glass, sometimes it’s wood. The wallpaper shows a different pattern each time you look at it, and the dead bodies scattered all around the room have the same undefined features as your assailants. The only thing that remains the same is the feeling of absolute hopelessness and terror as they drag you away to an unmarked aeroplane that takes you somewhere in Eastern Europe. 

Poland, maybe. You can’t remember, even though you came to spend the next seven years of your life there.

Nearly every one of these dreams is the same. It’s just you, watching scenes of your life unfold through a thick curtain of smoke that hides the most distinct, essential details. A large, gaping black hole has been punched through the part of your brain responsible for the production of memories. No matter how hard you try to fill in the blank spaces, it proves to be absolutely impossible. 

Whatever HYDRA did to erase your memories, it worked.

It’s hard to think straight when you wake up in the middle of the night, images of the dream you just had still playing before your eyes. You hoped that getting further away from the people that created those dreadful memories would allow the pictures to go away. Yet, as you sit up straight in bed, chest heaving up and down in rapid motions, you know they followed you even here, like a thundercloud continuously looming over you.

As your first week in the compound comes to a close, you find yourself slowly getting settled into your new home. With Steve practically following you around every chance he gets, the two of you take the time exploring the entire building from top to bottom. He shows you the library, the garage, the gym and the lab, and promises to take you to the theatre the next time the team hosts a movie night. 

You don’t tell him you haven’t seen a single movie in years, but the words are on the tip of your tongue while he rattles on about 21st century flicks he was forced to watch and ended up really loving.

When the two of you walk along the corridors of the compound, it’s mostly him who talks while you do the listening. You don’t mind it. It gives you time to think. While he speaks, you find yourself trying to dissect the inside of his mind. Still, no matter how hard you listen, all that comes up is silence. It’s odd not to be distracted by a second voice in your head. You’re not used to the simplicity of not having to focus on what’s coming from the other person’s mouth instead of what’s coming from their thoughts.

Each day that passes, Steve introduces you to a new member of the team. The first person you come across is Sam Wilson, who you find running on the treadmill two days after your arrival. He immediately takes a liking to you, and you end up chatting for nearly an hour straight. His thoughts are almost deafening, but his sense of humour makes up for his internal volume.

By the time Saturday rolls around, you find yourself able to chat comfortably with everyone you’ve met so far. Even Tony Stark, who appears at first to be quite wary of your presence despite giving you a place to stay, engages in conversation with you over a cup of black coffee. It’s relatively easy to befriend people when you can see straight through them, especially when they aren’t aware of your abilities.

Still, it’s odd how easily all of them have accepted you into their little bubble.

“Are you okay?”

Unease blooms in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’ve been quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, and your palms instantly begin to sweat.

“Yeah,” you quickly conjure up a smile, “just thinking.”

“About what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I feel like this is all very weird.”

Sam raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You guys don’t even really know me,” you remind him, “and you’re giving me shelter. I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around all of this.”

“We’ve read your file,” Steve bites his lower lip, “letting you in was a collective decision, made by all of us.”

Sam nods in agreement, arms crossed tight over his chest. 

Wondering what exactly is written in this so-called file, you chuckle dryly, “no offence guys, but I think that file might be missing a few important details.”

Steve blushes, “a lot of it was blacked out. Look, maybe we should all come together tonight, have dinner or something. You can tell us more about yourself if you want.”

“Yeah,” Sam exclaims, “good idea, cap.” 

Your heart picks up, pushing your pulse while you slowly nod your head, “sure.”

“Great,” Steve steps towards his own room and places his palm on the fingerprint scanner, “we’ll let everybody know.”

Sam turns around and heads for his own room. You quickly disappear into the safety of your bedroom and slam the door shut a little too hard in the process.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself, “fuck!”

You are not looking forward to this.

“What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Asgard?!” 

Thor’s voice booms over the sound of clinking cutlery and laughter. You slowly lift your shoulders before taking a large sip of water, allowing the cold beverage to relieve the tension in the back of your throat. 

It’s hard to keep all the buzzing internal monologues in the back of your mind, and it takes a moment for you to center yourself before you can answer Thor’s burning question. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I just never had a chance to read up on Norse mythology. Please forgive me. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place.” 

It is beautiful, Thor pouts, I miss it. 

“I’m sure you miss it very much,” you add quickly, to which he smiles sadly. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Tony smirks, “he has a big ego and a tiny brain.”

You nearly choke on your water when he winks in your direction. You roll your shoulders to rid yourself of the tension building in your muscles and prepare yourself for the direction the conversation is headed next. 

“So, Y/N,” Tony continues, “how do you know Fury?” 

Of course you knew he was going to ask this. He’s been thinking about it for the last fifteen minutes. Still, heat rises to your cheeks when you place your glass down, and you push a few stray strands of hair from your face and tuck them behind your ear. Your heart is pounding now, but in a room full of enhanced people, including some of the world’s best spies, you know better than to allow yourself to freak out.

Steve, who’s seated right next to you, shifts in his seat. The action, albeit hardly noticeable, startles you anyway, and your eyes fly in his direction out of reflex. You think he looks nice, dressed in a cream colored sweater with his hair swooped to one side, and in a fit of insanity, you’re tempted to compliment him and ignore Tony all together. 

“I don’t actually,” you say slowly, “My mom did, before she passed away. They knew each other before SHIELD was even a thing, when they were still young.” 

“So how’d you get his number?” Clint questions. 

“My mom gave it to me be before she died, told me to call it if I ever needed help.” 

“What’d you need help for?” he continues. 

“Clint, that’s enough-” Steve says before you can answer. 

“No, it’s okay,” you gently touch his arm, “my family got caught up with the wrong people a long time ago. Since the death of my mother tensions have only gotten worse. Fury offered me a place to stay while I wait for things to settle down.”

“What kind of people?” Natasha asks while she lays her fork down. 

“I think Fury can tell you more about that than I can,” you take a bite of your potatoes, “my mom did her best to shelter me.”

Your gaze flies back and forth between Natasha and Steve, and you begin to pray that she out of everyone at this table believes your story. You’re hyper aware of every move you make, and the tension in the air is almost too much for you to bear.

The crease between Steve’s brows and his hunched shoulders make you more uncomfortable. You read the room to make sure they believe you, before picking up your glass and taking another sip of water. Slowly, the conversation dies down, and you’re left with shallow breathing and red cheeks by the time Tony and Sam begin a discussion about a video game they were playing last night. 

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice is soft in your ear. The unmistakable hint of concern is evident in its tone when it breaks through your thoughts, and you quickly nod as to not alarm him any further.

When you walk back to your room later that evening,  you can’t ignore the painful twist in your stomach. Your hands are tightened into fists by the time you enter your dorm, and the need to swallow away the lump in your throat is nearly overbearing. You could never tell them you used to work for HYDRA, not in a million years. They would cast you out immediately, send your ass to the curb or lock you away in a federal prison for the rest of your life before they’d let you get away with it.

You didn’t think lying to people you hardly know could hurt this much. 

NEXT CHAPTER.

Taglist:

@foxyjwls007​ @littlegasps​ @hurricane-abigail​ @idk123906​

[xmalereader]

Agent Whiskey X Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Summary: A new agents comes into the statements, but he’s no ordinary guy. He used to work for the kingsmen of japan before being transferred to work in the states with the others, but this guy is a whole different story and a ver complicated past.

Warnings: Slight gore, language, whiskey being a cerious little shit, flirting, advanced tech, Japanese, slight angst.

-

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His eyes twitch in irritation, blinking softly he shakes his head as he tries to shake away the dizziness. Blinking again he looks around to see a few screen pop up, giving him information about his conditions. After years of having these eyes he was still getting used to them, the techniology was advanced—way too advanced. But yet again, Japan was always ahead of its time.

He’s been living in japan under a secret organization that saved his life at a very young age. He was twenty-one when he lost his eyes, he had gotten himself into some trouble with some very bad people which ended things in a bloody fight, getting mixed up with the wrong people all because of some money that he needed for himself, he was a homeless guy who was doing whatever he could to survive—even if it meant stealing.

That night he thought it was a good idea to steal some money from a small Gang that lived down his street but in the end he ends up losing his eyes. He remembers clearly that night as they stabbed his eyes out, causing him to go blind and to bleed out. He thought he was going to die in the dark alley all alone.

He thought that he had officially died that night, only to wake up in darkness, not being able to see anything but he was able to hear the sound of mumbling in a foreign language. That same day he was taken in by the leader of a small secret service that helped assist the government in activities that they coulnd’t handle. He was given new eyes that opporated like a computer, giving him the ability to see everything and everyone, with just one glance he could easily get a persons identity information. He was one of their secret weapons and it took him years to master the tech before he could officially become a member of the secret service.

That all happened ten years ago; now as a secret agent he was being sent off to the states to work alongside the statemens. He’s heard about the many different organizations that were around the world and how they were all clsoe allies. Y/n was still getting used to the idea of having allies around the place, the last time he trusted someone he almost ended up dead.

So, he had soem trust issues.

He arrived at the states not to long ago since he was sitting in his hotel room, trying to gather his thoughts and make sure that his eyes were functioning well before he leaves his room to meet up with these new people of his. He wasn’t one for socializing, he liked keeping himself closed and far away from new people but, today he was going to have to change his standers a little bit and speak to these people in order to work with them.

He arrives at the statesmen building in less than a few minutes, taking the elevator up to the top floor he begins to fidget in his spot, slowly growing nervous as the floor number gets higher.

“Fuzakeru no o yameru.”

Stop fidgeting

He tells himself as he hears the elevator come to a stop and the doors sliding open, suddenly being greeted by a young women in glasses. “Welcome Agent Hiro, I hope you didn’t get lost on the way.” She says with a small smile. Y/n smiles back in return. “I found my way around just fine.” He answers back, noticing a surprised look on her face. “Your English sounds amazing!”

He blushes a little and chuckles nervously. “I was actually born in the states before I moved to Japan.” He explains, earning a nod in return as she clears her throat. “Right, anyway—I’m agent Ginger, I control the systems and help around with the tech.”

“So, you’re mainly in charge of everything?” He asks with a raised brow, giving her a small smile.

Ginger chuckles. “No, but I would like to be in the field one of these days.” Y/n hums while nodding. “Don’t worry, you’ll get their soon.” He reassures her, with a small pat to the back as the two enter the main hall where the rest of the agents sat on a long table, wearing glasses to be able to see the rest of the agents that were working around the world.

“Gentlemen meet Agent Hiro, he’ll be working with us for the next couple of days.” Said ginger as she introduces him to the rest of the team. Y/n gives a small nod at the others, properly looking at them as he scans them, bringing up there files and any other information about them.

“I’m Champagne and these are Agent Whiskey and Tequila—you already met ginger.” Said the older man who sat at the end of the table, his accent heavy as Y/n gives the other agents a nod. “Im sure you already know who I am—but again, I’m Agent Hiro and I’m coming from kingsmen in japan.” He says to the others, standing in front of the chair since he was too damn tired to even sit since he’s been sitting all day.

“We’ve heard a lot about you.” He hears Agent whiskey says as he grins at him, leaning forward with his arms crossed over his chest, he was eyeing y/n carefully and chuckles. “They told us you wer special.”

“Did they tell you why?”

Whiskey shrugs, “They just said that you were special and probably one of their most important Agents.” He added, leaning back on his chair as they all wait for an explanation. Y/n bites his lip and sighs in defeat, instead of explaining himself he decides to show them.

Standing up straight he glances to his left to see a file being pulled up about Agent whiskey, giving him all of the information that he needed.

“Agent Whiskey, also known as Jack Daniels—“ He scoffs at the name, of course he would be named after an alcoholic beverage. “You were born in Kentucky, 1970 and you are a fourty year old man who became an agent a couple of years ago because of your high school sweetheart—“ he frowns at the deceased named. “Your wife was pregnant and died in an accident, causing you to join the statesman in order to help those who need helping.” He continues to read out loud, giving whiskey his whole background without blinking.

“How do you know all that?” Tequila asks this time.

“He must’ve read about us before coming here.” Said Whiskey.

“Actually, our files aren’t meant to be shared unless necessary. We usually have it all locked away since it can easily get into the hands of an enemy and that’s something that we don’t want to deal with.” Said Ginger as she adjusts her glasses, looking over to Y/n. “So, how did you know all of that?”

Y/n points over to the screen tv, showing an image of ginger. He turns around to face the others, an image of them showing up too.

“Your eyes.” Ginger whispers out, finally putting the pieces together. “Are you wearing some kind of special contract lens?” She asks, eager to know about this technology. Y/n chuckels and shakes his head. “Its my actually eyes.”

“Wait, so your eyes are like—what? Tech?”

“Yep.”

Everyone stares at him in shock, not believing him. “How is that possible?” Ginger approaches Y/n and looks into his eyes not finding anything unordinary about them. “They look so real.” She whispers.

“Ginger he’s getting uncomfortable.” Said whiskey, causing her to pull away and apologize quietly. “These eyes of yours, how do they work?” He adds, cocking his head to the side. “My eyes are like a computer, I can bring up anything of anyone. I actually scanned you guys when I entered the room, adding your names into my files in case I ever need to bring it up for something.” He shrugs but continues explaining. “I can hack into systems with just a single thought and can also show people my perspective—“ he points to the screen. “just like I showed you awhile ago.”

Tequila plays with his empty cup, raising a hand he asks a question. “These eyes of yours, can they be hacked into?”

“No, its impossible since a chip is technically installed into my brain but it can damage my memories if not used properly. Also, before I was left into the field I was trained on how to use them first and there were times when I lost my temper that my own leader had to shut me down, meaning that I would loose my eye sight for a short period of time.”

“That sounds cruel.” It was whiskey this time. “It may sound cruel but that’s how I learned, I managed to go through with it and was suddenly given the freedom to do as I liked. It took them awhile to trust me with this tech, believe me I didn’t even trust myself with it.” He said, sighing through his nose.

The rest of the agents were taking in the explanation, wanting got make sure that they were ready for anything but of course y/n wasn’t one to easily go rouge and even if he did his own team could easily track him down and bring him back home where his own leader could give him a lesson for trying to do something ruthless, but that’ll never happen, why run away when he already had a home and a family to go to?

“Thank you for explaining, Agent Hiro. At least we now have a hint of what you can do.” Said champagne as he pours hismelf a drink. “Since you will be staying here for the next couple of days, its best that you get to know your partner.”

“Partner?” Y/n questions.

“Yes, you and Agent Whiskey will be working together during missions, so try not to kill each other.” The older man chuckles out as he sits back in his chair.

“Kuso.”

Fuck

He had no problem with having a partner, hell he had three back at his own base! But having to work with Agent Whiskey gave him a worked vibe, already knowing that the two won’t get along at all. “I’ll try not to.” He mutters out as they are dismissed by Champagne. The room slowly clears out, Y/n walks out into the hallway and looks around, wanting to explore the area and get to know it better in case he is ever needed anywhere else.

“Agent Hiro.”

Y/n looks over his shoulder to see whiskey approaching him with a grin on a face, he didn’t like that look. “Tell me more about yourself, darling.” He glares at whiskey and rolls his eyes. “ Theirs nothing interesting about me.” He blurts out and begins to walk forward, looking up and down as he scans a few rooms. “See now that isn’t fair, you got to know alot about me which only makes it fair if I knew a little bit about you.” Sighing in defeat he asks. “What do you want to know?”

“What happened to your eyes?”

Y/n’s body goes stiff as he frowns. “Anything but that.” He growls out, trying to hold back his anger. He didn’t like telling people about his past and especially about his own eyes and how he lost them, it was a memory that he didn’t want to remember.

Whiskey raised his hands in defense, backing up a bit. “easy, ill ask something a little less personal.” Y/n narrows his eyes at him but simply nods, continuing down the hall where he finds the lab room and with ginger sitting in front of her computer screen, typing away.

“Agent Ginger.” He kindly says, gaining the women’s attention as she spins in her chair to face him. “Agent Hiro, What brings you here?”

“Just exploring the place, want to get to know it better in case I am needed in a different room.” He explains, approaching a cabinet full of jars. “Okay, how about you living in japan, what’s that like?” Y/n mentally groans as he rolls his eyes. “I can see that whiskey is being annoying as ever—“

“Hey!”

“—has he started his flirting already?” She asks.

“Yes, is that a normal thing that he does?” Y/n asks as the two agents ignore whiskey who was standing in the same room as them. “He does it all the time, you’ll get used to it.” She spins back to face her computer.

Y/n hums. “To answer your question Whiskey, Japan is my number one home. Even though I was born in the states I would prefer the craziness back in japan.” He turns around to see whiskey sitting on top of an exam table, smirking at him. He opens his mouth to ask something else but is interrupt by y/n groaning, clutching the side of his head as his vision begins to crack up. “Hiro?” He hears the agents faint voices as he tries to focus on repairing his vision.

This wasn’t the first time that his eyes have functioned this way, he just has to get used to the feeling of finally being free. It takes him awhile to repair the situation before holding a hand up to the other agents, “I’m okay just a small malfunction.” He blinks a couple of times as he gains his vision back, a screen appearing in front of him as it reboots the system.

“Does this happen often?” Whiskey asks as he helps y/n sit down on a chair. “Sometimes, I’m still getting used to the fact of having my freedom.” He rubs his temples with a groan. “Freedom?” He looks up at whiskey and sighs. “The one in charge of the tech—kind of like ginger, was the one who controlled my eyesight. They gave me the ability to not only see but to do other things that were considered impossible.” Ginger hands him a cup of water as he thanks her softly and takes a small sip. “You were technically there little Guinea pig.”

He shakes his head no, setting his cup down in the table. “It was there first time using this technology and they wanted to keep me safe in case anything were to happen to me, I wasn’t a prisoner and I surely wasn’t treated differently.” He shot back, giving whiskey a glare.

He didn’t take kindly to people who spoke bad about his own family that saved his life and had given him a home.

“I was given my own freedom five years ago, but I’m still adjusting to the feeling so it’s strange for me to control it on my own.” He looks down and rubs his eyes, letting out a deep breath as he feels whiskey shift in his spot.

His hands were on his hips as he eyes y/n up and down.

Y/n lifts his head up and straightened up. “I’m used to the malfunctions, once I return I’ll have Misun check them out.” He stands up from the chair and stumbles a little, whiskey reaches out to help him but he quickly holds a hand out to stop him. “I’m fine.” He hissed out as he holds himself against the table.

“You a really tough partner.” Whiskey says.

“And your annoying.” Y/n barks back but that only get him a laugh from whiskey. “Looks like me and you are going to have a lot of fun together.” He adds.

Y/n groans and whines. “Ie ni kaeritai.”

I want to go home.

—

“I’ve scanned everyone in the lobby, I have the information we need so we’re good to go.” Y/n says through his ear piece as he walks around the lobby, giving people friendly smiles as he passes by.

“Did you get our guy?” He hears whiskey says through the ear piece as he sat on the other side of the lobby, pretending to read a book as he glanced up every once an awhile to spy on their guy.

Y/n sits at a bad, acting natural as the bartender hands him a drink. “Yes but I’m having difficulties with his files—“

“What you mean?”

“What I mean is that his files are locked, can’t see them unless they are unlocked.”

He hears whiskey sigh. “Can’t you unlock it?”

“Nōtarin,” Dumbass. “It’s not easy to hack into something like this, it’ll take me time and that’s something we don’t have so will have to make due with little information that we have about him.” He mutters out, sliding out of his seat as he leaves the bar and begins to make his way upstairs where a second lobby was located.

“Fuck.” Whiskey slams his book shut and sets it on the table, heading towards y/n’s direction. The two meet up on the second floor, with y/n leaning back on a wall with crossed arms. “Now what?”

Whiskey walks towards the balcony, looking downstairs he spots their guy. “How long does the hacking take?” He was still staring down at their guy as y/n pushes hismelf off the wall and walks over to stand next to whiskey. “A couple of hours, give or take. Unless you want me to send this information to ginger?”

“No, we are to handle this alone without gingers help.”

Y/n leans against the rail as he too looks below them. “We either wait until tomorrow to get him or we do it all now.” He mumbles out, turning his head to the side to look at whiskey, waiting for his confirmation since he was the one in charge of this mission.

Whiskey is silent, giving hismelf time to think. “We do it now. We need all the information we can get before we continue on.” Y/n nods in agreement as he walks towards the stairs. “Where are you going?”

“To finish the job, so you stay here and be a pretty little cowboy and let me handle the rest.” He sends him a wink while walking down the stairs and back down to the first floor, he could feel whiskeys eyes on him as he makes his way over to gang. Acting casually he noticed a waiter walking towards him, holding a tray of drinks. As he passes by, y/n is able to snatch a drink, walking over to the gang leader he pretend to trip over his own footing, causing the drink to slip from his hands and to land all over the man, causing their target to stand up in surprise and anger.

“Nantekotta, gomen'nasai!” Oh my god I am so sorry!

He rambles out in Japanese, grabbing something napkins as he tries to pat down the man but only got shouted at. The man tried to shove him away but he stands his ground, continuing on with his rambling, as the two are distracted he is able to snatch his room keycard from his pocket. Smirking to hismelf he steps away from the man and bows in apology before making his way back upstairs.

“What was that?!” Whiskey nearly shouts out, getting ready to throw a fit until y/n pulls out the keycard to show whiskey. Giving him a smirk, “told you I could handle it.” Whiskey snatches the keycard from him. “Come on.”

Y/n follows whiskey towards the elevator. “Is that graditued?” He teases while whiskey ignores him and scoffs, the two entering the elevator as they head up the sixth floor where the room was located at, it didn’t take them long to locate the room. Unlocking it and entering inside they quietly looked around.

“We should hurry before he finds out that his card key is missing.” Said y/n.

“Right, you check the main rooms and I’ll do the living room. See if you can find anything important about this guy.” Whiskey instructs as the two head into separate directions.

Y/n enters the bedroom and scans it, not finding anything in the closet or under the bed, huffing in annoyance he looks over to the cabinets where he picks up a safe, hidden behind some clothes.

He walks over to the cabinets and moves the clothes to the side where he sees the large safe sitting on the corner. He scans the buttons, seeing light fingerprints he smirks and types in the code. Hearing the safe click open he pulls it open to see a case inside, “Whiskey, come check this out.” He calls out as he pops open the case to reveal many different documents and plans.

Whiskey enters the room to see the case open and full of documents. “Looks like our little friend here is planning something pretty important.” He says as he takes some blueprints.

“I’ll scan everything and send it to ginger, see if she knows what any of this could mean.” He flips through various pages as his eyes scan everything, downloading all of the information that he can before a second screen pops up to show him the security footage.

“Shit we have to go.” Y/n stuffs the documents back inside the case as whiskey helps him out, putting the case back inside the safe and closing it up, he makes sure to put the clothes back in its usual spot. “Lets go.” The two rush out of there and head towards the elevators, the two were alone as they feel the elevator moving down.

Y/n checks the camera every once in awhile, he noticed them approaching the second floor where their target was waiting for the elevator. Thinking of a quick idea he grabs whiskeys arm. “Kiss me”.

“What—“

“People get uncomfortable when they around couples who kiss.” He says quickly as he hears the elevator come to a stop, as the doors open to the second floor he pulls whiskey into a kiss, wrapping an arm around his neck as he feels whiskey kissing him back in return.

Their target cringes at the couple and groans, stepping away from the elevator as he decides to wait for the second elevator.

The doors slowly close on the kissing couple.

Y/n was too distracted to even notice the feeling of the elevator moving, the two were still kissing, whiskey had placed his hands on his hips as he pulls him close, licking his lips as y/n lets out a small breathy moan.

He’s the first to pull away, clearing his throat as he licks his own lips and looks away. Avoiding whiskeys cheeky grin, “Don’t Shy away from me darling.” He feels whiskey wrap an arm around his waist and pin him against the elevator wall.

Y/n gives him a soft glare. “Not now.”

“Later?”

He groans and shakes his head. “Maybe.” He mumbles out as whiskey let’s him go. The elevator arrives in the lobby as the two exit the hotel in silence, approaching their car as y/n gets in the passenger seat. He takes the time to go through all the data that they have collected before placing them in a file and sending it to ginger. “I sent all the information to ginger so by the time we arrive to base she’ll have an explanation to the blue prints.” He tells whiskey.

“Does that give us time to finish what we start?” Whiskey wiggles his brows as he drives the car.

Y/n groans. “Baka.” Idiot.

“Sorry darling but I don’t understand, Japanese.”

“Good, that way I can keep insulting you in front of your face.” Y/n gives him a sweet fake smile as he turns his attention back to the road.

“Maybe you can continue speaking like that while you scream my name out tonight.” Y/n’s face heats up at whiskeys words. He leans his head back as he stares at the ceiling.

“Watashi wa nani ni muchū ni narimashita ka?”

What did I get myself into?

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Impending Paternity

Word Count: 3900+ (oneshot) [AO3]

Genre: Humor/Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Peter B. Parker/Mary Jane Watson

Characters: Peter B. Parker, Mary Jane Watson, Spider-Man Noir, Peter Porker, Gwen Stacy, Peni Parker, Miles Morales

Summary: The closer the birth of his first child gets, the more Peter’s old fears of fatherhood resurface. Fortunately for him, he now has universes of parenting advice to call on and prepare him.

Written for the @dimension-zine.

~0~

Waking up in a cold sweat wasn’t something at all new to Peter B. Parker. That didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

What was new to him was registering the feeling of MJ’s arms around his waist as they slept, the flat press of her chin by his shoulders. Once again, they shared a bed: small, but more than enough room for them to lay pressed up against each other, legs entwined, skin on skin. It was almost enough for Peter to forget what had caused him to sleep more restlessly than he had in a very, very long time.

Even in the dark of the bedroom, the damn pregnancy test is staring directly at him from the mesh metal wastebasket, with its solid pink eye. He’d stared down monsters, mobsters, and maniacs of all sorts without blinking, and yet this damn near ignites his old “curl up in the shower and hide” instinct. MJ’s stomach doesn’t show any signs of change yet, doesn’t feel any different against his back...But there’s going to be a tiny person in there very soon. A person that he helped create. A person that he’ll have responsibility to.

MJ can’t stop smiling about it — this is what she’s wanted for a long time — and her joy is very nearly infectious. Peter had agreed to this, of course he had. It was time for him to quit hiding away from the fears that he couldn’t dodge or punch away so easily. But still, he isn’t sure if he can say he’s wholeheartedly looking forward to it, and still be telling the truth.

He’s never had younger siblings or cousins. He has long since lost Uncle Ben and Aunt May (knowing that other versions of them exist, even meeting them, doesn’t erase the sting). MJ hasn’t said a word to her own parents in years, and Peter has never had any problem saying flat out how unhelpful he’s sure they’d be anyway. So he has nobody to fall back on if he has questions or confusions or fears — aside from MJ, and while he loves her and trusts her judgment in all things, he can anticipate there may be times when an uninvolved third party will be invaluable. 

All of a sudden, Peter freezes, eyes going wide. He has the sudden impulse to jump out of bed that always used to come with a brilliant idea, which he feels are too few and far between nowadays. Obviously he can’t do that now, at fuck o’clock in the morning with his wife’s arms securely around him. It’ll have to wait until the morning, but oh, he can’t wait to explain to her over breakfast what he’s planning to do when he grabs enough free time over the next few months. She still hasn’t heard everything he’s had to tell about his little dimension-hopping adventure...

~0~

“So!” Spider-Man Noir slams this finished egg cream down on the table just as fiercely as he has the past eight glasses. “You’re finally becoming a daddy!”

“How...are you doing that through your mask?” Peter asks hesitantly, sipping on his one half empty glass of the drink. 

“I remember my childhood fondly,” Noir goes on as if Peter hadn’t spoken, gazing nostalgically out his window. He had wanted to take Peter bar-hopping, initially, but a guy walking around all in color attracted too much attention on the streets, and they had agreed that Noir’s apartment would be best for a private conversation. “Don’t remember my own mother or father, but my Aunt May says that she and my Ma used to trade parenting tips out of pamphlets when I was just a grub.”

Peter perks up slightly. “What kind of tips?”

“Well! First one’s for your future mama...Ah, how’s your place looking?”

Peter blinks. “It’s...fine. Better than living alone, no offense to you, but — ”

“No, no, you don’t get it. Is it all pretty?”

“Huh? Pretty?”

“Somethin’ Ma and Aunt May picked up from my granny,” Noir explains. “If a mama with an unborn baby sees ugly things, that ugly beams itself into her brain and straight down into her womb, and gets right into your baby. So you gotta be sure to keep her around pretty things to look at, you see? You want a nice kid, don’tcha?”

“Uh...Y-Yeah! I sure do!” he says, trying to keep disappointment off his face. Noir talks with absolute conviction in his beliefs, but what Peter had forgotten was that these were the beliefs of 1933. Even earlier, if he’s getting this stuff from older relatives. None of it’s going to do his twenty-first century self any good.

So the first chance he gets, Peter slurps down the last of his egg cream (surprisingly tasty, he’ll have to look up a modern recipe to compare sometime) and leaps up from his chair, sauntering back over towards an opening portal. “Thanks so much, Noir, but I gotta run! No telling when I can catch the next portal, y’know?”

Noir waves, unperturbed, pouring another drink. “Stock up on lard! You got to give baby’s first bath with it, get all that scum off ‘em!”

“Sure! Lard! No problem!” Peter calls over his shoulder, nearly diving into the portal.

~0~

Though Ham assures him that the natives find him much stranger and more unsettling than he finds them, Peter never quite gets used to being a real guy in a cartoon world. The lurid colors hurt his eyes, things move too fast and sound is constantly blaring, and for some reason he’s very, very suspicious about the contents of those hot dogs. But the veggie wraps are surprisingly good, and he chows down with one hand while typing at breakneck speed with the other. 

“Hot dog, you’re fast enough to kick some butt at the Daily Beagle!” Ham bounces up and pats his head happily. “Granted, we’re more story-ey than sciencey over there, but you get the point! That file-hunting stuff’s really not giving you any trouble?”

“Nope,” says Peter through a mouthful of tomato and lettuce. MJ’s newly emerging cravings were much less of a pain than either of them had expected: they consisted mostly of something rich stuffed into something bread, and he wished he could bring something from here back for her. “The rules are pretty different from the re -- uh, from my dimension, but surprisingly easy to memorize. I should be able to retrieve what you’re looking for in...maybe two minutes?” 

“Faaaaan-tastic!” 

“Can you keep them busy that much longer?”

“Sure can!” As he speaks, Ham is already whipping a comically large wrench out of his pocket and hurling it at the helmeted boar goons trying to break through the barricaded door. “Take that, you @#$%^&*!”

Peter still isn’t sure how Ham manages to make those sounds instead of swearing, but no matter. As far as he’s concerned, no questions equals smooth sailing. 

Well...of course he does have one. 

“Hey, Ham, this might be a weird thing to ask, but...what would you call ‘good parenting?’”

“Huh, I’m not sure. My parents passed before I was hatched, but Mom made sure her sac was settled in a nice place! My web was in May Porker’s lab for months before I transformed! Good thing, too, I was coming up on the tail end of my lifespan!”

“Oh...Y-Yeah, real good thing,” Peter stammers, fingers momentarily freezing on the keys as he processes that whole spider-turned-pig thing one more time. He’s privately quite glad that he’s never seen what’s under Ham’s mask. 

“I consider myself real lucky, actually!” Ham laughs. There’s a crash, and the metal door starts to squeal off its hinges, the enemy scrabbling to all get through the cracks at once. Ham promptly yanks out a machine gun and lets fly at them. Peter chokes down a laugh at the toy rat-a-tat-a-tat noises it makes. “Aunt May’s the best aunt a Spider-Ham could ask for! Bakes a mean apple pie, talks my ears off about her tech, supports me in all my endeavors. And you know, I can barely even see the bite scar anymore!”

Peter chokes on tomato. “The what?”

“Oh, Aunt May was the radioactive pig that turned me into Spider-Ham in the first place! My memories are slightly muddled around that time, but oh well! Doesn’t matter! Though neither of us had any idea it would do that, soooo...maybe just be extra careful about where your teeth go?”

Peter huffs, right-clicking the elusive file he’s found and downloading it to Ham’s flash drive, which is unsettlingly shaped like a bacon strip. “Yeah. Great advice. Don’t bite my kid. Next you’ll be telling me to keep my window open for the delivery stork to fly in with ‘em.”

“Well, sure, that’s just common courtesy! If ya really want to be nice, you give your stork a nice big tip!”

Peter swallows a groan from the deepest depths of his being, along with the last of the wrap.

~0~

“Six months and I still can’t believe you’re going to be a dad!” Gwen shouts, gracefully backflipping over another laser beam. “Like an actual dad!” 

“Almost seven, actually! And yep! Can’t believe it either!” Peter answers somewhat breathlessly, through his own leaping and punching of the armored thugs rushing in through the legs of the gun-toting robots. “Any ideas for names? Because MJ and I are way out!”

He hears Peni’s thoughtful humming through the speakers of her newest prototype: SP//dr, Mark Three. “Hmm...I don’t know much about historical naming conventions, but I also don’t think they’ve changed very much...Chief Stacy, what do you think?”

Safeguarded inside SP//dr’s cockpit from the onslaught targeting him and remaining remarkably calm about it, George Stacy considers it. “Hm. My daughter’s name is Gwendolyn. I’ve always thought that was the nicest name.”

Peter smirks under his mask, and gently elbows Gwen as she passes him. “Whaddaya think, Spider-Woman?”

He physically feels Gwen rolling her eyes. “It’s fine. Why don’t you just name him after you?”

“There’s millions of me! Maybe more! And besides we don’t even know if it’s a him, yet!”

“What about Ben? Or Benjamin?” Peni suggests. “To honor your uncle!”

“Oh, come on! Doesn’t anybody have an original idea!”

Gwen wrenches a robot head off and lobs it straight into a goon’s chest. “You know what, those will probably be a little easier to come by after we finish getting shot at!”

“Agreed, ma’am,” Chief Stacy says. “Excellent throw, by the way. Hey, Man-Spider, machine gunner at three o’clock!”

No matter how short and no matter how many people fight beside him, Peter’s various battles always seem to last forever as they happen, but the memory of them only lasts a blink of an eye. So it’s slightly dizzying when just a couple hours after the attack has been dealt with, Chief Stacy secured, and a plan for Gwen to hunt down whoever had ordered it outlined, the three of them are sitting on the roof of a skyscraper, eating cheeseburgers while the sun rises before them.

“I can’t even imagine eating a burger with pickles on it,” Gwen says. “You’re really telling me that’s the common thing instead of chili peppers where you’re from?”

“Yep,” Peter confirms, washing a large, hot bite down with a quarter of his soda. “I mean, I’ve had jalapeño burgers before, but they’re like a specialty thing.”

“We eat pickles on our burgers, too, but they’re all deep fried,” Peni puts in. “Crunchy.”

Gwen laughs, the breeze blowing her hair back. After hearing the story of how she’d acquired her undercut, Peter always finds it funny that she’d gone ahead and kept it after all. “So weird.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he says. “Entirely unrelated, if you need any more help with your dad, you just let me know.”

“And me!” Peni adds, SP//dr waving a leg in agreement. 

“Thanks, guys.”

“Hey...Speaking of dads...” Peter pauses a moment to think before continuing, “What would you call your dads’ best qualities? Like, as a dad?”

“You’re looking for advice again?”

“A little template would be nice, sure!”

“All right, then...” Peni taps a French fry on the burger box. “I always loved how smart and loving my dad was, and that he had faith in me to continue his work when he was gone. Dad always believing in me helped me to believe in myself, when I might not have otherwise.”

Gwen nods. “I feel pretty similar about my dad. He doesn’t know about me being Spider-Woman, and he doesn’t really get the whole rock band thing. But he makes sure I know that he loves me no matter what, and that he’ll support me in whatever I decide to do. Provided I’m not, like, becoming a supervillain or anything, but I’m doing the opposite of that, so...”

Peter feels the urge to start taking notes. “Sounds good, sounds good, and...don’t take this the wrong way, but is there anything they do, as dads, that makes you not like them sometimes?”

Peni giggles. “Of course there was! I didn’t like when he’d work late and not get home on time, or when he’d make me stop reading comics and go to bed, or something like that. I’d get annoyed with him, but I still loved him.”

“My dad kind of runs the house like he does the police station,” Gwen adds. “He can be super strict, a bit like Miles’ dad. Ironclad rules and curfews for me and my brother, endless lectures when we break them. If I were a normal girl, it’d be pretty stifling, but since I have this life that I have to keep secret from him...it can be really hard sometimes.”

“Yeah, I...I can see that. I don’t really know if I should keep who I am secret from my kid, though. Would it keep them safe, or...just make them resent me? Or both?”

Gwen sighs. “There’s really no right answer, I don’t think.”

“You’re worried about being perfect.” Peni pats his shoulder. “But you don’t need to be. Just use your best judgment.”

Peter looks glumly at the street below. “I wish that was something I trusted.”

~0~

There’s a hollowness inside his chest. 

The only light on the wide, empty street are from the street lamps, ghastly white against the pitch black. He moves as if underwater: swinging, roundhousing, throwing his barely-pulled punches. His heart is pounding, but the rest of him and the world feels numb. Cold sweat soaks the inside of his mask, and heavy dread washes over his skin. 

Peter’s fighting shadows, human-shaped pillars of darkness. His strikes go right through them, when he can reach. But everything they land on him feels like being pummeled by a cannonball, and he’s not sure how long he can endure it. 

The end comes out of nowhere. One spectral arm flashes up, there’s a glint of silver, and a soundless explosion that makes the whole world ripple. It hits his chest like a tidal wave, slams him into the concrete. He can’t get up again. In the world of muted, swimming colors, the gushing of blood from his shot-open heart is sickeningly vivid. 

“DAD!”

Everything in him jolts. He lifts his spinning head to see a kid sprinting towards him, as fast as they can but not fast enough to reach him. He can’t tell how old the kid is, or whether they’re a boy or girl. But he recognizes MJ’s bright red hair and blue eyes, and his own expression of utter, gut-wrenching horror and heartbreak. 

“DA-A-A-D!”

He tries to say he’ll be okay and coughs up blood instead. His rib-punctured lungs won’t let him speak. Panic engulfs him: his death is going to be burned into his kid’s eyes forever and there’s nothing he can do, nothing he can do, nothing, nothing, nothing —

“Peter! Peter, wake up, it’s okay!”

The darkness is blue, striped by the thin gold light through their bedroom blinds. His eyes fly open and he grabs for his bare chest: intact, bloodless. It’s soft and safe around him but he still can’t catch his breath. MJ is awkwardly rolling over in bed to stroke his hair and try to hug him. 

“Peter, you’re okay. You were dreaming. Just dreaming...”

She’s no stranger to dealing with him like this, and the guilt stabs deeper. “I...s-sorry, I...”

“Deep breaths. Slow breaths. I’m here.”

“I won’t be,” he chokes out.

“Peter — ?”

“I-I dreamed that someone shot me, killed me, r-right in front of our kid. It...God, it terrified them, ruined them for life, I could feel it, and it was all my fault!”

He rolls over to look at her face, to anchor him to the real world. He half-expects to see irritation in her eyes at his weakness. Instead there’s love and sympathy. 

“It wasn’t your fault. It was just a dream. That doesn’t mean it will happen.”

“It happened to every parent I ever had. It happened to me. What if I do that to my kid? I can’t — I don’t — ”

Trembling, Peter places his hands on MJ’s belly. Their kid, determined to make sure that their mom sleeps as little as possible, kicks a drumbeat against his palms. They don’t know what fear, pain, or loss is yet. How can he be the one to bring it into their life?

“I’m not running away again,” he assures MJ, as her fingers run through his hair. 

“I know you won’t. Don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to leave our kid. I never did. I want to be there for you for the rest of my life,” Peter forces out through his tightening throat. “B-But that choice could end up not being mine, after all of this. The things I do, the people I fight, I could die anytime! I’d leave you again. Both of you.”

MJ cups his cheek, leans in to kiss his forehead. “I can’t tell you that nothing bad will happen, Peter. But I can tell you you’re not alone. Like, I worry about the same thing happening to me that happened to my mom. Dying before our baby can even remember me.”

Peter’s heart lurches; he’d forgotten about that. “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t —“

She cuts him off with another kiss. “We’re both afraid, Peter. Your job is probably the most dangerous one out there, but you don’t have to go through this alone. All we can do is what every parent has to do: our best.”

“What if my best isn’t good enough? What if I fail, and they hate me?”

“It’ll be more than enough for the people who love you. Always.” MJ smiles. “And they would never hate you. I never could, no matter what.”

Tears slip down his cheeks. He wants to tell her thank you, but he can’t seem to speak, only hug her as close as he can.

~0~

He has one place left to visit. Something he hasn’t been able to face until month nine.

Aside from this world’s MJ, Miles is the most common visitor to Perfect Peter’s grave. After the first time, he’s never surprised to see Peter B. here too. 

“Hey,” he says as Peter walks up, morning dew soaking his sneakers. “How’s it going? Is MJ doing okay?”

Peter nods. “Her due date’s in two weeks. All smooth sailing so far as the doctors say.”

“Awesome.” Miles half-smiles. “So...you had a question for me?”

“Yeah. I just need...one more hope boost before this thing really gets started. Feel free to tell me to kick rocks back to my own dimension if you don’t want to talk about it, but...” He gestures to the gravestone. “This Peter. Your uncle. What was it like to lose them, because of their line of work? I’ve made my life so damn risky, am I doing something wrong bringing a baby into it with me?”

Miles is silent for a long time. “I don’t have a solid yes or no to that. I...I’ll always wish things were different for them both. That there was something I could have done to save them. If I let myself think about it too hard, or too long, I’ll lose myself in it.”

Peter winces. But then Miles goes on.

“I’ve just got to tell myself, what happened, happened. Can’t change the past. The best thing I can do, for them and for me, is keep moving forward. I miss them like crazy and I wish they were still around, I always will. But more than anything, I remember the lessons that they taught me. That they were good men, that they cared about me. It’s the same with you and your uncle, right?”

“I...I do remember him that way. Yeah. But I was going into college when Uncle Ben died. I wasn’t...just a kid. I chose this life, MJ chose to stay with me, our kid didn’t ask for this kind of life.”

Miles shrugs. “I worry about my dad every day. He’s worked a dangerous job in a dangerous city since before I was born. I don’t hold it against him, because I know why he does it. I’m one of the people he’s trying to protect, after all.”

“Yeah, but — ”

“Peter. Come on.” Miles turns to look at him then, with a knowing smile. “You don’t know all of what you’re doing. No one does. What matters is that you’re a good man, and that’s what’ll be most important to your kids, whatever happens: that their dad loves them and would do anything for them.”

Peter feels the same rush of pride and affection for him that he had back at the reactor, along with a sense of security around his heart. He’s surprised to find himself laughing. “You’re the best, kid, you know that?”

Miles’ grin broadens cheekily. “Oh, I know. I try.”

He wraps an arm around Miles’ shoulders and pulls him in for a hug. “Yeah, just keep trying, future godfather.”

It takes a second for the word to hit Miles, and then he spins around to stare at him with huge eyes. “I — their godfather?! Me?”

Peter laughs. “No one out there’d be better than you. Only the best for my kid.”

~0~

After the twenty-seven most stressful hours of their lives, Mira Penelope Watson-Parker emerges into the world with a long, indignant screech. 

Illuminated in the noon sun, in the soft yellow hospital room, both his wife and daughter look like angels in Peter’s eyes. He doesn’t even care that he’s about to cry. “You did amazing, hon.”

MJ grins. “Helps to have a husband whose hands I could squeeze as hard as I needed. C’mere and hold her. I’m sure she wants to meet her dad.”

Peter tries so very hard not to tremble as MJ passes their blanket-wrapped daughter into his arms. He’s never felt anything so delicate in his life. 

“She’s...so tiny,” is all he can manage.

Mira’s hair is her mother’s bright red, just like in his dream. But the dark hazel eyes staring curiously up at him are all his own. 

Peter smiles at her, cradling her close. He really would do anything for her, he knows that already.

“Hey, sweetheart. Hey. Dad’s here.”

[mxvirani]

hate me, | self para

tw: depressing as hell, addiction, overdose, suicidal ideation

This is your mother, and it's 2:33 on Monday afternoon I was just calling to see how you were doing You sounded really uptight last night It made me a little nervous, and a l... and... well... it made me nervous, it sounded like you were nervous, too I just wanted to make sure you were really OK And wanted to see if you were checking in on your medication

the answering machine beeped off in the distance as he stared at the ceiling, his fingers intertwined in a ball of elastic bands. he remembered them bounce across the ground at george’s feet when they were still preteens, that was the day that they had first locked eyes. all of the memories in darkwood were interlaced, cropped together and turned into a never ending reel. it was never the story of his life, it was always the story of george’s, the story of nina’s. mx had never been a main character and now in the shadows where he lay, he wished he could erase himself from the reel altogether. 

his mothers voice was not enough to pull him from the darkness that engulfed him, it had been one year since the fire and as he sat up, he stared at the pictures he splayed like posters across the walls. there they were, laughing. they were always laughing. mx didn’t laugh anymore, somewhere deep inside there was a pain that was tearing him apart and the only light he had ever known had been torn right out of the world.

barefooted he walked to the wall and he tore down a picture, a lighter from his pocket aflame as he watched george’s face burn out from the surroundings. they weren’t laughing anymore, now there he was, just him alone and next to him a burned void where someone used to be. that was all it was, him and his void. together forever, unchanged and alone. that was all he wanted it to be.

I have to block out thoughts of you so I don't lose my head They crawl in like a cockroach leaving babies in my bed Dropping little reels of tape to remind me that I'm alone

a night out with dean but dean never really saw the end; he saw the legendary parts, the laughs and the excitement. he saw the mx that had once been so bright as a burned out star and god, mx laughed and it shook every part of his insides. it racked his ribcage until it felt it would fall apart. he laughed so hard with dean that he thought one day his head would spin off and the world would finally go dark (or maybe that was what he wished for).

when the door slammed shoot to his studio apartment, his ribs cracked open and his body sunk to the floor. when he knew nobody could hear him he would scream in the middle of his kitchen until he fell to the floor like a scene from a horror movie. he would feel that pain in his ribcage and want to tear himself in two to make it stop. he would realise that all that laughter was never real and every part of him ached for a life that no longer lived. 

he would lay there until the next evening as if he was dead and when the phone rang about another night out he would answer and laugh. but dean didn’t know. dean didn’t know because nobody did.

An ounce of peace is all I want for you. Will you never call again? And will you never say that you loved me, just to put it in my face?

then there was that night. he stared in the mirror, opened and closed the cabinet. his anti-depressants stared back at him through his blurry gaze. they shimmied and moved and when he grabbed the bottle he poured six or seven or eight or twelve into an unsturdy hand. the walls were covered in newspaper conspiracies now, a long running joke that mx talked shit well known all around town. he never made sense. why would he? he was strung out to high hell one hundred percent of the time. 

“what are you doing?”

the voice shook him and pills spilled over the bathroom tiles, a strange clattering sound as he backed into the sink. at first he could barely figure out who was standing in front of him or perhaps he just couldn’t believe it, “nina?” he blurted, “nina? what the hell? what are you doing here? this ca-- you’re dead. you’re dead,” he’d finally done it, he’d finally blown the lid on his own delusions. he felt sick to the pit of his stomach.

“you’re acting kind of funky,” the girl replied.

when he blinked again she was gone and his head was spinning, his anti-depressants lay unswallowed on the ground and he wondered if he should take them at all. he had made two discoveries in that exact same moment, the first was that there was a sweet spot right between being high as hell and wanting to die where his brain released some kind of delusion to make him want to stay and the second was that maybe more than being addicted to being numb, he was addicted to the knowledge that he could find a place where he would see his friends again. where they were more than a burned out picture.

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made And like a baby boy I never was a man

"leave me alone, please,” mx cried, backing into his kitchen cabinets, his knuckles white against the countertop as he backed into the corner. once he had thought that this was the way he wanted to live but now he was haunted in his waking hours by his own thoughts; people that weren’t really there. people he could not get rid of because they were a part of him more than they had even been while alive, “george, i can’t do this anymore. you have to go.”

“you’re the one who keeps bringing me here.”

it wasn’t a haunting, he knew that and yet he couldn’t make it stop. he couldn’t make his brain stop throwing out these images like clockwork. he didn’t want to get better. the drugs had been there to make him numb but now he was being daylight haunted, the flickers of a life that had never existed at all right before his eyes. 

“i can’t do this anymore, i can’t fucking do this,” he ranted, his eyes screwed shut, his hands over his ears. “go away, go away, go away.”

Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand And then I fell down yelling, "Make it go away!"

when rachel came over she didn’t see what was happening to him, he never told her that when she sat at his kitchen countertop she had a dead friend on either stool. she didn’t tell him that sometimes he caught himself pouring an extra portion of cereal. he didn’t tell her that he hadn’t left the house in three weeks, that he had thrown his mobile phone out the window or that he hadn’t seen his mother in over a year. he didn’t tell her any of that because she didn’t ask. 

instead he told her about something he found on reddit with his words jumbled, he explained how his tv didn’t seem to be recording episodes (not that he’d forgotten what day, week month it was). 

he didn’t tell rachel a damn thing because when he looked at her and remembered how her eyes had been scorched out by flames, he thought, she must be a better person than me. he wanted her to stop coming. he wanted them all to. he wanted to stop seeing it again and again, hearing the voices. he wanted to be numb again and laugh with dean in a bar until his ribs cracked then cry himself to sleep but now he stared absently for hours at a television that was turned off and saw an entire show as george and nina passed popcorn over the top of him.

but the popcorn bowl was empty and there was never a move, there was never even a sofa, just a towel on the floor where he spent hours sweating off highs trying to get clean. he wanted to get rid of them so badly that it seemed like the only choice. he’d make them stop, he’d make it all stop. he’d find a way to get back out of this and get back to numb or something else. nobody had to know. nobody really wanted to; sometimes even he didn’t know if what he felt was real or fake but it crippled him all the same.

he locked everything that was left in a box and flushed the key down the toilet.

nina and george seemed pleased.

Hate me today Hate me tomorrow Hate me for all the things I didn't do for you

he never quite made it, for six days he sat inside his apartment going through a pain so crippling that he thought that his insides were going to shut off. yet, it was nothing compared to the pain he had dulled after the fire. all those memories flooded back like a sea and they took him whole, enveloping like an old home. he felt like he never slept but he was never awake, he was just in a living nightmare, not quite sure what was real or what wasn’t. a hazy descent into hell surrounded by two ghosts who promised they would see him through it; that was when he finally cracked. he realised that they were just ghosts, they were just him and he had never seen himself through a fucking thing. he had never fared a storm, he’d never been through it without breaking down. if there was one person that always let him down it was himself. 

he found the box and he tried to crack it open. he used a nail file but his hands were shaking, eventually he found a novelty mug and smashed it through the wood. later his mother would return the broken pieces of a mug with dean and mx’s faces on to dean in a signed for mailed box. 

the end of his story, it wasn’t sad, it wasn’t numbing, it wasn’t even glorious. it was just about a man who knew he’d never find a way out of his own self inflicted darkness. the ghosts were gone when he stuck the final needle into his veins. in those final moments he finally saw his studio apartment as it really was; EMPTY, CHAOTIC and LIFELESS. he didn’t feel his life flash before his eyes, he didn’t see a single scene, he just stared at a torn piece of newspaper he had taped to the wall and let out a gentle laugh as he finally passed over into the darkness for good.

he hoped when rachel found him that she realised that he had never been worth saving to begin with. he had never WANTED to be.

[lovedcult]

happy birthday to the bestie @summerlost​​ 💗💭 !!!!!!!!!!!!!  jia. 🙈 what a crazy year it's been. all these memories we've made together. girl you crazy 😫but im not even about to put all that on tumblr 😂. congrats on another trip around the sun, im so proud of you ❤ love u girlie see u at the club LMFAOO😂❤❤❤🎉🎉🎉🎉 

( jk ur real bday message is under the read more ilu HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABEY )

literally me preparing this message just hours before ur birthday but i was determined to have it ready by the time it hit midnight for u so HERE I AM HELLO 🤍 going to try and make this letter heartfelt and cute because we never say things like this to each other but u really have become such an important person in my life in such a short time u just mean very much to me and i really do want you to know just wonderful and special u are to me !! we have only known each other ?? like 5 months ? is that right ? girl idk but within those 5 months we have managed to talk to each other like every single day except maybe 2 days isn’t that so crazy ? so i want to thank u for always keeping me company and crying over txt with me and just being such a warm source of happiness in my life, it really has been so wonderful to get to know you and to be ur friend 🤍 

going to list some things that you’ve done for me that maybe you don’t know you’ve done for me but you deserve to know .. i know i said i was gonna get mushy here but good ness .. anyway it’s so nice to wake up to messages from u everyday and to go to sleep after talking to u all day and knowing that i will have a friend whenever i need it like fr i don’t know how we do it because i am usually so bad at communication rip ..... it has just always felt so easy to talk to you and we clicked right away and there was never a moment of awkwardness like there can be when first meeting someone which thank god .  i’m more comfy with u than i have been with some friends i’ve known for 5+ years and i think that says a lot about our friendship as well as you as a person. we talk literally all the time and it just makes me so happy, i look forward to talking to u every day 💗 whether its about our ships or personal lives or random shite or my godson pumpkin it never matters to me, i am just so happy you are here and that i get to know you

did you know i like never listened to taylor swift before meeting u ? apart from that one time i saw her live in concert when i was like 12 but i don’t even remember that NSNSNSN but i’ll have you know the songs you’ve showed me are special to me now and i enjoy listening to them and she will now forever remind me of u! i have a tendency to try to get into things and like what my friends like so just know whenever you show me stuff i will file it in the heart shaped jia folder in my brain and keep it there forever. literally no matter what it is. tht goes for pacrim too that was so random but i became obsessed with it right after u showed it to me and i’ve actually watched it twice more after we watched it together <3 speaking of, i hope we can have more movie nights together or just cute lil kosmi dates in general because they are so fun and we have a watchlist piling up already so we should crack that open when we can … whenever ur nawt busy being a doctor or whatever

reminds me; do u remember that time i panicked because i ate burnt chicken nuggets and u told me i was gonna get c*ncer ? girl fun times NMDCNBJSAKFJSFJSDV just so you know i WILL be directing any of my future health concerns to u because i might just break otherwise bc i don’t know how to survive and we don’t want that i don’t think so glad i have a smart sexy big brain friend like u in my life

i hope you have a wonderful wonderful wonderful day today which you just might because it’s also txt comeback today ( u fuckin lucky bitch i cant believe they are obsessed with u ) you deserve it so much !! you work so hard all of the time and i know school can be stressful as well as life but i really am so proud of u because u are doing great things and it will all pay off. u are never alone through any of it either so when it gets too hard u will always have me beside u !!! promise !!!! i love u lots !!!!! even tho ur a gemini !!!! but ur my gemini !!!!!!!

also want to mention how just WONDERFUL it has been writing with u omg ??? we have 11 official plots going on rn as well as a bunch of unofficial ones and it has just been the loveliest experience getting to write and ship with u with every single one of them and it’s just been so fun. u are such a talented writer and u put so much effort and thought into all of ur muses which i immensely applaud u for. you should know this already though considering i am vocally in love with all of them ( when jungjae finally d words i will be coming to sweep up sooyeon i really dont care what u have to say its out of ur hands ? let it go ) … jia best rp partner .. i’ve never had a writing partner that gets so involved with our plots the way you do with me and shows the interest that you do and it means so very much to me, i feel very lucky and im forever thankful u messaged me the day u did and introduced urself because i am a scared bitch and probably would have just admired u from afar on the dash instead <3 i hope we can have 327234 more plots and ships in the future because u have managed to make each of them so special. 

i feel like this letter is so all over the place but am i gonna go back in and make it prettier ? naur because im a mess writing it so ur getting the full heidy emotional love spill experience .. this is the first bday im spending with u so i had to write u this & let u know just how much u mean to me . literally thinking abt u all the time and am always hoping u are happy and having good days on the other side of the world <3 ur just that wonderful. thank u for being my friend beyond the rpc and i hope the future can bring us even closer together !!!! i love u so much stinky ( with affection ) stay sexy ......... <33333

us btw

[paradise-creator]

OwO when u have time,, can I have a haven box for BNHA?? But just when you’re free and not working on prior works!! >:( I’m watching u bish

You can use my name in the result if you want to lol I already know it anyway!!

She/her, Taurus, INTJ, slytherin (pretty freakin’ queer but I usually lean towards boys/enbies more)

Personality: the first thing people notice about me is that I am less of a feeler and more of a thinker. I do have an IQ of 125, but my emotional intelligence is quite low, so I have trouble sympathizing with others. But I learned through experience, so I don’t SEEM emotionless. I can (and will) help my friends through tough times if they need me. I’m pragmatic, so I always go for the facts instead of the feelings during decision making or tough situations. I hold a lot of perfectionist traits that make it really hard for me to be satisfied with my results if they aren’t higher than the norm. I also have a slight issue with saying no, so sometimes I’ll offer my help or enrol myself in long-term projects while knowing I legit do not have time for more stuff on my schedule. Being a bit smarter than average, I sometimes feel like I’m obligated to help others so that they can do good too (however, I do like helping people with their hw to a certain extent). I’m working on those issues though!! I’m also an introvert, and I can get rlly tired if I have to be interacting for more than four hours straight with people, especially if their persona isn’t rlly compatible with mine.

However, when I’m surrounded by friends (or generally people who aren’t my superiors), I’m very energetic, loud, silly and I have a sharp tongue. I’m also insanely competitive, like someone please stop me?? My sense of humour goes from absolute nonsense to almost mean spirited sarcasm, but it all depends on who I’m talking to. I’m a MAJOR memer, I have a bunch of files filled with them, and I couldn’t bear be with people who didn’t understand my meme references. When I start liking something, I can get easily obsessed. I’m stubborn, therefore very passionate about the things I care about. I also have a slight case of the Endorphin Junkie, meaning that I really, really like the high you get after sports so I do crossfit training like five to six times a week. I’m unapologetically myself, and I will not ever change who I am to fit within the norm. I’m sometimes told that (that I’m odd, I mean), but I usually thank the people who tell me. I have a really, really big love for music and I have a tendency to break into song sometimes when people say a line from a song I know. I also cry sometimes when music gets really good ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whoops

Appearance: I’m around 5’6”, with hazel eyes and brown hair that goes around to my shoulders. It gets curly out of nowhere. I can either wake up with straight hair or wake up with a freakin perm, it’s funny. My body isn’t exactly the lean type, I’m somewhere around the buff area of the scale instead, but as long as I seem visibly strong, I’m satisfied. When I’m not going anywhere significant, I usually just wear sport shirts and sweats, but I have a penchant for Dark Academia so I like /looking/ like I’m smart sometimes. And I have glasses bc apparently my eyes are assholes and they work too hard and it hurts my brain all the time

Likes: music (DavidBowieDavidBowieDavidBow-); I have a really wide range of music that goes from early 2000’s pop to 1700’s requiems(my faves are Bowie, Queen and Pink Floyd). I enjoy studying theoretical fields, reading, and I like talking about Absurd Theories About Reality That Make Little To No Sense. I like sports, and I love joking around with friends in the most exaggerated ways. I also love the colour green and I’m more of a cat person

Dislikes: dogs (they’re cute but keep them away pls), ignorant people, irresponsible people, spiders, things I’m not good at from the beginning, having to deal with strangers being upset, crying (me. I don’t like crying; I mean me, I’m fine if my friends cry)

Other fun facts!!

- my goals for the future are all over the place; I want to work for Disney, I want to get a musical composition degree, I want a biomedical engineering bachelors degree, I want an astrophysics doctorate, I want to study languages, I want to be a foreign English teacher... I can’t ever decide.

- I have a long history with getting crushes on guys who turned out to be gay. It happens so often and I HATE IT, it makes me feel terrible.

- I!!love!!70’s!!music!!so!!much!! I was raised on that stuff, my dad wouldn’t let us listen to anything else

- Lol my favourite playlist name is Drugs Playlist But I Don’t Even Do Drugs it’s just a bunch of Pink Floyd and David Bowie songs

- My favourite movies are 80’s or 90’s comedy classics!! Like Wayne’s World, or Airplane!, or Night at the Roxbury. I keep quoting Wayne’s World and no one understands :(

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Flashes of memory

- Truth or dare gone wrong

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Sero Hanata, Cellophane

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

The reasons I paired you

- It me awhile to think about who to match you up with

- I was thinking of either Bakugou or Denki

- BUT THEN I REMEMBERED SERO

- Sero is such an underrated character smh

- BUT THIS DYNAMIC IS WHAT I LIVE FOR

-At first, you might be annoyed at his lack of knowledge but you over past that

- His EQ can help you grow as a person as well

- You have the IQ he has the EQ, BALANCE!

- You two would often have laughing sessions at class

- No cap tho, you two would be the most interesting couple

- You guys would have a matching necklace or a Keychain (IDK why but I feel like it-)

- You get along well with Denki, (IT TOOK A LONG TIME)

- But you would rather hang out with Bakugou (He tolerates you more than the others).

- BRO, please give him love. He craves your attention

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Flashes of memories

Sero: Hello there hot stuff!

Eve: Hello there Soy sauce

Sero: NOT YOU TOO

Eve: Just kidding, Hello babe

Sero: ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?

Eve: Yes, killing you with love

Sero: Dang that's smooth

-------------------------

Sero: He-

Eve: I didn't take your Pocky, Denki did

Sero: How-

Eve: You've been yelling about it for the past few minutes

Sero: Oh-

-------------------------

Sero: Can you help me with studying?

Eve: Struggling again?

Sero: Yes...

Eve: Why did I date you again?

Sero: Please?

Eve: ...

Also Eve: Fine

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Truth or dare gone wrong

The class 1-A were all gathered in their common room, even Bakugou was present. The class was having a truth or dare session, it seemed interesting. “Sero, my man! Truth or dare?” Denki asked as he looked at Sero. “Truth! I choose truth,” Sero said. “Who have you been talking on the phone to this past weeks? The one I keep hearing is my pumpkin?” Denki asked. Sero’s face then turned a light shade of pink. “O-Oh- ummm,” He started as he looked away. “Does our Cellophane have a girlfriend?” Mina teased as she poked Sero. “Y-Yeah,” He stuttered. “OI THAT’S NOT FAIR?!? WHY CAN YOU HAVE A GIRL BUT I CAN’T,” Denki sulked as he placed his head on the table. “If you weren’t such a perv then maybe you can get one!” Hakagure responded.

“Don’t be shy. Tell us more,” Mina said. Sero’s blush darkened and he looked away. “We are playing truth or dare! It’s my turn to ask,” Sero then said. “Actually, I am quite curious as well. We can always continue later,” Momo said as she smiled. Everyone agreed and they then looked at the nervous male. “C’mon now guys, this is unfair,” Sero said as he looked at everyone. “But you have a girl and we want tea,” Mina then said as she sat in front of him. “I- um, you guys really want to know about her, huh?” Sero said as he chuckled. Everyone nodded and stared at Sero intently. “Just tell us already, Soy sauce,” Bakugou growled as he glared at Sero. “Don’t listen to him, bro. He is just jealous,” Kirishima said. “WHAT-“ Bakugou was about to counter but was silenced. “Fine! Fine! You got me in a corner,” Sero then said as he chuckled. “She should be coming here,” He added as he looked at the door. “Three, two, one,” He then said as he pointed to the door.

“Hello, is Sero Hanta here?”A feminine voice said. “ARE YOU A PSYCHIC?” Denki said as he looked surprised. “I’m right here pumpkin!” Sero then said as he smirked. His nervousness melted away as he saw the 5’6ft girl. It was his girlfriend, Eve, and he was overjoyed. “Hey there babe!” She then said as she smiled. “DANG YOU GOT A FINE LADY!” Denki then yelled as he checked her out. “Keep your eyes above for I’ll gorge them out,” Eve then said as she glared at Denki. Soon enough, Mineta tried to touch her as well but his efforts were at vain. Sero used his tape as to stop Mineta from getting closer. And Eve kicked him away, far away from her. “Get your filthy hands away from her,” Sero said as he stood up. He then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Woah, that was so manly!” Kirishima said as he smiled.

“GIRLS! GET HER-“ Mina said as she tackled the girl. They didn’t fall down but Mina was laughing and hugging her. “Girl! How long have you been together?” Mina asked as she pulled away. Eve was a bit uncomfortable but she merely had a stoic face. “A few weeks,” She responded bluntly. And soon enough, the truth or dare session was forgotten. It was replace with the class 1-A trying to pry out the tea from the couple. Did they succeed? No, not really. Though the class seemed to love Eve and her antics. The class even tried to make them forget about the date they have planned. But either way, Sero and Eve got manage to get away to have their small movie date at his room.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

Hai bb! I'm sorry it took so long. But thanks for requesting again~

[rorykillmore]

posting up a birthday gift fic for @alula !!! aka i decided to ambush them by not telling them i usually do this for my friends’ birthdays until like yesterday, but it’s the same idea! this is basically just like 1000+ words of gay introspection for our one villaneve rp verse, but one time they attacked me w something they wrote re: eve trying to tell villanelle she loves her while the latter was sleeping and i guess i just filed that away in the back of my brain until i could find a way to get revenge.

anyway a few nice words: i hope you have a great birthday scully!!! and. this might sound like a very low bar bc 2020 has been awful for all of us i’m sure, but meeting you and becoming friends has genuinely ended up one of the brightest highlights of my year and i’m so glad we stumbled across each other bc we both wanted someone to yell about ke with.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! 

‘Feelings that can’t be put into words’ has never sounded like anything but a challenge to Villanelle. There are 6,500 different languages in the world. It stands to reason that if you can’t find the words you’re want in one of them, you just have to look somewhere else. 

The problem is -- she knows the words she wants to say to Eve. She has them. They exist in all 6,500 of those languages.

She’s already said them once.

She wonders to herself, over and over:  if she said them again, would they ruin everything a second time?

The textbook definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. So Villanelle tries - in every way she knows how - not to be the same person she was before. Not to make the same mistakes.

“I want to tell you something,” Villanelle murmurs, catching Eve by the hand. It’s late, and they’ve just dropped Jin Ling off at his new apartment and packed it full of food and clothes (Villanelle had wanted to make sure he had clothes) and dog toys in preparation to move him in. Eve looks as tired as Villanelle feels when she turns back towards her, but the look in her eyes is as alert and questioning as it always is when she’s giving Villanelle her attention.

I’m listening. I’m usually listening when it comes to you,  Eve had told her once, and, I spent a ton of time listening to you before you even talked to me, and Villanelle had tucked all of those words away somewhere close to her heart.

They make Villanelle hesitate now, on the verge of something not for the first time.

(The first time had been the first night they’d spent together, in between the heated kisses Villanelle had trailed across her skin and in the contented quiet afterwards. Or after that, the night Eve had spent curled up in her lap after Villanelle had wiped away the tears she hadn’t quite understood in the moment.)

She deludes herself, in those few seconds in which Eve’s eyes meet her’s, that she’ll say it this time. But her throat starts to feel dry, and instead --

“I think I am starting to enjoy it.” Villanelle swallows and offers a crooked smile. “This... helping people?”

It isn’t a lie. So that’s something. It’s not the rush or the elation she remembers she used to get when she was hurting people -- it’s more like a quiet, contemplative sort of ache in her chest. She doesn’t know why she likes it. Maybe it’s the novelty of it all. 

Maybe it’s the way Eve looks at her now, the way she almost seems to soften at the edges. It wasn’t what Villanelle wanted to say, but the unguarded way Eve smiles back at her and doesn’t let go of her hand, it makes Villanelle decide that maybe it was worth it anyway.

It’s not as though she doesn’t have plenty of other chances.

She and Eve see each other nearly every day now. Most mornings start with them waking up together, and most evenings end with one of them outside the other’s door (or window, when it comes to Villanelle’s preferred method of entry). Villanelle starts to wonder how well she’d sleep in an empty bed, she’s gotten so used to tucking herself against Eve’s back, slinging an arm around her waist. She wouldn’t dare call it domestic, or normal, or any of the things Villanelle knows she can’t have and would never try to force Eve into.

But it’s... them. All the heat and passion and intensity Villanelle already knows so well, but also all of the smaller things that she is still learning that somehow feel equally a part of whatever they are. 

So it’s not as though the opportunities aren’t there. It’s just that it never feels like the right time.

She doesn’t want to scare Eve off or bring all their memories of Rome back into the forefront, and above all else, she doesn’t want to lie to her. Or to herself. And no matter how certain Villanelle is that she’s never felt this way about anyone else in her life, or that she wouldn’t have thrown her life as an assassin away and risked the terrifying reality of not knowing who she is for anyone but Eve, or that she might actually choose to die before ever hurting Eve again, she... can’t be sure that any of that counts as love. Because she doesn’t know what love looks like, or what it feels like, she doesn’t know if she really was wrong the last time she said it and she doesn’t know who to ask.

You don’t understand what that is. 

I want to, Villanelle thinks she should have said. I’m trying. I’m sorry. I’ll find a way to make it better, just know that I’m trying.

But that hadn’t been how Rome had ended. And since then, so much has happened, and Villanelle has had to ask herself so many unpleasant questions that she once would have preferred not to ever think about at all, but... 

Maybe that’s a part of it. Of trying. Because after she’d gone home to her family, to her mother, she’d almost forgotten that it was worth trying at all, and Eve had reminded her so effortlessly just by showing up here, in this strange, dreamlike alternate reality. And that has to mean something, doesn’t it? That Eve always makes her want to try?

That Eve takes her coffee black (sometimes), that she raised venus fly traps as a kid and loved a girl in college, that she had a chicken for a pet and loves cute newborn kittens and scrawny stray cats, and that she thrives on the arguments she pretends to hate, that she cares about people even when they’ve done very bad things, that she’s fighting all the time to figure herself out, to know herself, that it scares her all the time but that she does it anyway. All of that means something to Villanelle. She wants to find the words for how much she cares about every part of Eve that Eve ever lets her see, and they’re right there, Villanelle knows that, just --

She never knew that ‘knowing’ and ‘saying’ could be such complicated different things.

So what’s there to do, Villanelle decides, shying away from paralyzing nerves that don’t at all become her, except keep trying? 

“I want to tell you something,” she murmurs again a few days later, this time into the place where the slope of Eve’s neck meets her shoulder, where Villanelle can hide her face.  She knows that’s cheating, though, and eventually stretches out and lifts her head and props herself up on one elbow, smiling languidly down at Eve in an effort to pretend that her heart isn’t nearly beating out of her chest.

This time, it’s the morning after they’ve officially defined their... relationship. Villanelle has tried to play it cool, really - she had laughed and was appropriately incredulous when Eve had confessed she’d been texting Hanzo about them, of all people - but she’s also spent the last twelve hours (or what she’s spent of them awake and coherent and not preoccupied by Eve herself, anyway) tossing around the word girlfriend in her head like some giddy teenager.  

Eve, perhaps hoping Villanelle is about to reveal a similarly embarrassing story about someone she has consulted for advice about their relationship, raises her eyebrows expectantly. “Don’t hold me in suspense.”

“I...” Villanelle falters again. Swallows. Tries to fight off an inward surge of frustration at herself, because that will definitely ruin the moment. And maybe some of it shows on her face, in her eyes, some vulnerability or fear or just how much she feels for Eve, because Eve’s bemusement softens into something more like concern.

“Villanelle --” Eve reaches up, and Villanelle feels the warmth of her hand against her cheek. She remembers the first time, what feels like so long ago back in Eve’s kitchen when this very same gesture was used to disarm. Now it feels... different, and Villanelle leans into her touch without even really thinking  about it. “ -- It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Villanelle knows Eve too well not to sense her nerves. Maybe she’s already guessed what Villanelle wants to say, or maybe she hasn’t and it’s the uncertainty that’s killing her, but she waits for Villanelle anyway, tells her that it’s okay anyway, doesn’t prompt or push her or try to deflect. 

And inexplicably it’s not a big fireworks moment, but this small, singular instance of selfless, uncharacteristic patience that makes Villanelle certain. Or maybe she always has been, and it’s just that she needs Eve there in front of her, both their guards dropped, for it to feel tangible. 

Villanelle doesn’t know what she is or isn’t, whether her mother and the Twelve and everyone who’s ever told her what she’s supposed to be were right or wrong, but she knows that she loves Eve. If there was ever a person she was capable of shattering every expectation and defying all the odds to love, it’d be Eve. And if she can’t quite bring herself to say it yet... that doesn’t make it any less true.

She covers the hand resting against her cheek with her own and turns her head just enough to press a feather-light kiss to the inside of Eve’s palm, barely able to hide a smile when some of Eve’s quiet apprehension seems to melt. Then for good measure - and because she can’t stop herself - she leans down and kisses Eve properly, slow and somehow unhurried despite every feeling she is determined to pour into it.

And she hadn’t meant to linger, but Eve kisses her back without hesitating, and Villanelle’s always found it difficult to resist getting lost in her. So she gives in, doesn’t resist, and like always with Eve, finds there is something strangely grounding in letting herself get lost. She hopes Eve feels it too. She hopes that - for right now - it’s enough.

“I’ll tell you later,” Villanelle murmurs against her lips once she’s just barely pulled away, and tries to make it sound like a promise.

[thewnchstrs]

Broken Halos: Chapter 3

Pairing: JensenXDanneel, JaredXGen, MishaXVicki

Summary: Y/N attends her parent’s funeral 

Disclaimers: funerals, mention of death, mentions of car accidents, ptsd

Word Count: 3.7k

S E R I E S  M A S T E R L I S T

buy me a coffee?

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I felt the truck before I saw it, slamming into the side of us. I felt the backdoor crumple inward, my head banging forcefully against the window. I watched in slow motion as the car flipped, watching my dad’s hands hit the ceiling, mom covering her head. The car kept turning and turning, the impact sending us flying down the road with so much momentum I thought it would never end.

My seatbelt locked, keeping me tight against the seat even as the car finally came to a stop upside down on the road. My arms dangled under me. I blinked twice, my eyes wide as I mentally checked my body. I felt okay, but as I looked down at my leg, I could see the blossom of blood pluming on my jeans, trying not to look too long at the odd angle it was bent into.

My eyes traveled up to the front seat, dad slumped over the steering wheel, his head bleeding. Mom was crumpled against the dashboard.

“Dad,” I tried, but it felt like every time I tried to speak or even breathe my ribs were jutting into my lungs. “Mom!”

The pain began to grow, starting at my leg and then traveling all the way up my body but I didn’t care. I tried to unbuckle myself to get to them, but it was no use, I couldn’t move my arms.

“Mom!” I screamed again, my body screaming at me to stop. “Dad!”

“Y/N!” Jensen yelled, shaking me awake. I shot upwards in bed, clutching his forearms as I looked frantically around the room, my chest heaving. “It’s alright, it’s alright. You’re here.” I looked to Jensen now, my eyes wide as I gripped him tighter, feeling the sweat on my clothes. He watched me in concern, “You’re here.”

I slowed my breathing, looking past his shoulder and seeing Rocco standing at the end of the bed on high alert. I fell into Jensen as he held me close, his chin on the top of my head as he sighed deeply, running a hand up and down my arm. I kept my eyes wide open, scared that if I closed them again I would see them…like that.

After awhile, he looked down to me, “Are you okay?” I couldn’t find the words I needed so instead I nodded slowly, laying back down on the pillow. Jensen moved my hair back from my sweaty forehead. “I’ll go get you some water.” Jensen stood, pointing to Rocco, “Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere, alright?”

As if understanding completely, Rocco laid down close to my side, his head resting my chest. I watched as Jensen left the room, smoothing down Rocco’s fur on the top of his head as I willed my nightmare out of my head as I laid in the dark. I tried not to think about the way the metal sounded as it crumpled or the way the sound of shattering glass was the loudest thing I’d ever heard.

Almost immediately Jensen was back, sitting next to me on the bed. I sat up on my arm, taking two long gulps from it before shakily handing the glass back to him.

“Thank you,” I said. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be sorry. Besides, Rocco was the one to come and get me,” he said, patting Rocco’s back as his eyes worriedly scanned my face. “Do you have nightmares a lot?”

I averted my gaze to the wall next to me, “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“They’re just dreams.”

“Those didn’t seem like just dreams.”

He was right, they weren’t, they were memories. Ones my brain tried so hard to block out but for some reason they snaked their way back in, bits and pieces from that morning filtering themselves back into my head.

I pulled the blanket tighter around myself as I settled back against the bed, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Jensen hesitated. I knew he was battling with whether or not to prod me to open up on the subject or to leave it at that. However, as he looked at the clock on my bedside table that read nearly three in the morning and then over to my tired face, he chose the latter as he nodded slowly and patted my leg softly, “Let me know if you need anything.”

He left the room, keeping the door open just a crack. I listened as his footsteps went to the kitchen, the resounding sound of the glass cup in the sink, his feet shuffling across the living room and up the stairs to his room.

I turned on my back, using Rocco as an anchor so I wouldn’t spiral any further than I already had. I stared up at the ceiling as I tried to think about anything other than the dream, the crunch of metal that sounded so real I could’ve sworn I was back in that car, the sight of my parents as they laid lifeless in front of me.

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The snow fell steadily around us. I kept my eyes trained on the two oak caskets hovering over the open graves, not paying any attention to the eulogies of those family I didn’t even know we had, family that only ever showed up into our lives when something bad happened.

“They were great people, and even greater parents,” a woman, who I had assumed was a distant family member ended, smiling sadly as she folded up her piece of paper that was wetter than her eyes had been.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me from my thoughts as I realized it was my turn to speak. Jensen gave me a reassuring smile, helping me to the front of the group, the snow not a friend to the crutches I was still lugging around.

I looked up to the faces standing in a half circle around the caskets, trying to focus on the few that I could recognize: Jensen, Danneel, Jared, Gen, Misha and Vicki who were all off to the side. I pulled out a small folded piece of paper from my pocket, my hands shaking slightly, either from the cold, or knowing that this was my last chance to say something meaningful to my parents.

My eyes scanned the first of the words on the paper, reading and rereading them until they were just a useless jumble of letters. I felt the eyes of the people around me, staring me down as I folded the paper back up, stuffing it back into my pocket as I took a deep breath, “There’s a lot I could say about my parents and what all they did for me, but I know I don’t have that much time.” I looked across the group to Jensen who nodded softly, encouraging me to keeping going.

“My dad always used to tell me that everything happens for a reason, that no matter what life threw at you, there was always some…deeper meaning to it all. That one day, we’d look back and see all these little strings that connected one event to the next. For the longest time, I accepted this as fact. I thought, if something were to happen, then surely there would be good reason behind it. But, if I’m being honest, I’m having a hard time seeing the reasoning behind this one,” I swallowed roughly, large snowflakes collecting on my eyelashes.

“So, instead of trying to make sense of it all and driving myself crazy, I’ll focus on all the things I do know: that my parents loved each other more than anything in this world, and that I wouldn’t be who I am now if it weren’t for them.” I squeezed my hands together in front of me, willing my tears away in an attempt to keep myself together.

“My mom was my best friend, the one person that I could go to for anything, no matter how big or small, mom would always be waiting at home with open ears,” I thought about how much I wished mom could be here now, how I would do anything to just be able to talk to her. “But don’t be mistaken…mom was a badass.” A chorus of small chuckles came from the group. “She was the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, blinking back tears, “Dad was my superhero. He taught me everything I know, from changing a flat tire to showing me firsthand never to put dish soap in the dishwasher.” More laughs came from the group and the memory of watching the kitchen fill with bubbles pouring from the dishwasher and dad eventually giving up trying to clean it up.

“Together, they were inseparable,” I said. “Whether it was watching the same movie thousands of times because it was just so awful they couldn’t help but make fun of it every time, and finding it just as entertaining. Or spending every Sunday together going grocery shopping because it was the one day neither of them had to work, and they spent every waking minute together.”

I wiped at my cheeks, knowing that now was no different. Even now, they were together. “So I choose to remember them like that. I choose to remember them the way they were: singing songs too loudly in the car, dancing in the middle of the kitchen while making dinner…” I smiled softly to myself at the memories. “Those are the moments I’ll always carry with me.”

I picked up two flowers resting in a large bin at my feet, laying one on each of their caskets, touching the oak with my fingertips and letting them linger before slowly walking back to where I’d been standing.

One by one, the rest of the group added a flower to the pile while I stood in front of the open graves as people began to file back to their cars in silence. I acknowledged the hugs and the attempt at the encouraging words from attendees, but my main focus was on the two caskets laying next to each other, six feet under.

I was pulled from my thoughts as an older woman approached me, standing a few feet away as we both looked down into the open graves. She wore a long black fur coat, her gray hair hastily thrown to the top of her head and secured with a large clip. My eyes darted over to her, racking my memory for who this woman might be, but coming up short.

“That was a beautiful eulogy you gave,” she said. Her voice was raspy as if she hadn’t used it in a long, long time.

I tightened my grip on the crutches, “Thank you.”

Silence enveloped us again, the only sound coming from car doors being closed and the crunch of snow under shoes. I tried to focus on them, to really engrain this moment in my head as the last time I’d be in physical proximity to them, but my focus instead was on the old woman lingering next to me.

“You remind me so much of him, you know?” the woman said and this time, I looked over to her, her eyes already on me. “You look like her too, of course, but…you have so much of your father in you.”

I began to feel uneasy, my gut instinct telling me this lady was bad news, no matter how harmless she looked. “Do I know you?” I asked, sounding harsher than I meant for it to.

The woman looked slightly hurt, looking down at her gloved hands folded in front of her, “No, I suppose you don’t.” I watched as she turned to leave, hobbling through the multiple inches of snow. I was glad to finally be alone again, but there was a pull of something inside me that made me reach out to her again.

“Wait,” I said before she could get too far. She turned around, looking to me over her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I’ve seen so many people here today I’ve never seen before. I never knew how close they were to so many people.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” she said. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, waiting for her to go on. “There’s so much they never told you. Things you deserve to know.”

I narrowed my eyes, “I’m sorry?”

A look passed over the woman’s face, one I could almost pinpoint as triumph, “I should get going, dear.”

“No,” I said, making her stop again as I made my way in front of her, blocking the way to the street. I scanned the woman’s face in confusion, trying to understand. “What do you know about them that I don’t?”

A slight grin danced across the woman’s face, a devious glint in her eyes when Jensen’s voice called out behind me. I ignored it, continuing to stare down the lady as she looked past my shoulder toward where the voice was coming from. She looked back to me, “Your family is calling you.”

“Y/N!” Jensen called again.

“Who are you?” I asked, ignoring Jensen. I took a step toward the woman who continued to stare into my eyes, something so deep and hateful behind them I could hardly stand it.

Footsteps came from behind me, followed by Jensen’s voice, “Hey, you ready to go?”

“We were just saying our goodbyes,” the woman said, not taking her eyes off of mine. “I’ll see you around, dear.”

I watched as the woman stepped sideways from me and retreated to the street. I turned around, leaning against my crutches as I watched her, confusion, anger and a hint of fear boiling inside me.

“One of your family members?” Jensen asked.

I continued to watch as she pulled open the front of a black car with tinted windows, doing nothing to ease my concerns, “I don’t know.”

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That night, Jensen and Danneel planned a small get together for me; a dinner just with our closest friends in order to take my mind off of the day. We all sat around the dining room table, talking, eating and laughing. Even though I was slightly unsure as to whether or not I wanted this, I was glad I’d agreed to it.

My first mistake was vocalizing that I was hungry enough for seconds, sending Jensen running into the kitchen and piling more food onto my plate, the rice becoming a mountain before I tried pushing him away, a smirk painted over his face.

“I can’t eat all of this,” I said, raising my eyebrows when Jared stuck his fork into the middle of the rice pile, transferring it to his own plate.

“Yeah, Jensen, she can’t eat all of this!”

“Give her her rice back!” Gen said, nudging Jared playfully.

“No, keep it, it’s enough to feed a village,” I said as I scooped a small amount of it into my hand and held it out to Rocco who sat patiently next to me.

“There’s more in the kitchen, Jared,” Danneel laughed.

“Will you bring the dessert out here?” Misha called to Jensen who retreated back into the kitchen.

“Go get it for yourself,” Vicki shot to him.

“I got it, I got it,” Jensen said as he came back to the dining room, balancing his own plate and the dessert in his arms, sliding them onto the table.

For the first time since the accident, things were finally starting to feel normal again. As normal as they could be, at least. I smiled at the sight in front of me: being surrounded by people who genuinely love and care about me.

Danneel nudged me, “You alright?”

I smiled and nodded, “I’m good.”

The high pitched sound of the phone ringing from the kitchen was what made Jensen set down his fork and knife. “I’ll get it,” he said, pecking Danneel’s cheek before standing from the table and into the kitchen. I looked over Jared’s plate, stabbing my fork into a piece of his chicken and stealing it away before he could take it back.

I nodded as I chewed, “This stuff is amazing, Vicki.”

Vicki smiled, motioning to Misha with her wine glass, “Misha made it, actually.”

I widened my eyes slightly, looking to Misha, “You made this?”

“Impressed?”

“Scared, actually,” I joked as Jensen came back into the room, looking slightly confused and less cheerful than he was before.

“Everything okay?” Danneel asked, but he didn’t sit down, only looking down at his phone before looking up to me. “It was the police. They need us to go into the station first thing tomorrow morning.”

The clink of forks and knives stopped. I paused mid-chew, furrowing my eyebrows, “For what?”

“He…he didn’t say, just that it was part of the case.”

“Case?” I said. “What case?”

I could tell Jensen was hesitating, trying to decide whether what he was about to tell me would put a damper on things or not. “The car accident. They’ve opened an investigation on it.”

I swallowed the chicken that now felt like concrete as it slid down my throat, “The crash was an accident. Why did they open an investigation?”

The look I got from Jensen told me he had as much of an idea as I did.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The ride to the police station the next morning was quiet, the only sound coming from the radio. I watched the buildings pass by, slightly grateful for the thoughts racing through my head keeping my mind off of how fast the car was going and how much worse the snow seemed to be today.

The police station was stuffy on the inside. The smell of old books, dust and old coffee filled the small area. Jensen and I waited in the lobby, trying anything to keep our minds off of what could possibly be the reason for us having to be here.

“What do you think this could be about?” I asked, twisting my hands together in my lap after Jensen tried for the third time to get me talking about the news playing on the TV mounted on the wall.

“I don’t know…rob any stores lately?” Jensen joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Just the hardware store.”

“Hm,” Jensen nodded. “Good choice.”

It was then that a man came from the back behind the front counter. He was an older man with a graying beard and stern features, “Miss Y/L/N?”

Jensen and I quickly stood, following the man into a small conference room with a long table and numerous chairs.

“Go ahead and take a seat,” he said. “I’m detective Eric Lotz, I’ve been assigned to your parent’s case. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”

“What are we doing here?” I asked, ignoring his question. “Why is there an open investigation?”

“Miss Y/L/N, I know you must have a lot of questions,” he said calmly. “But there are a few things I need to go over first.”

I didn’t like it, but I knew I wouldn’t get any of the answers I wanted if he didn’t get any from me. Detective Lotz sat down across from Jensen and I, his hands folded on the table in front of him. “Miss Y/L/N, do you remember what the weather was like the day of the accident?”

The question caught me off guard but I racked my brain nonetheless, “It was snowing, and icy. It was one of the coldest days this year.”

Detective Lotz looked as if he were about to tell me something I wouldn’t be able to handle, “Miss Y/L/N, it wasn’t snowing at all that day. It was the day before you’re thinking of. The day of the accident was the first time Vancouver had seen the sun in three days.”

“What does this have to do with the accident?” Jensen asked, sounding slightly irritated.

“What I’m trying to tell you, is that there wasn’t any ice on the highways that day, specifically near the crash.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, sitting up a little straighter, “How is that possible? The truck driver he- he hit a patch of ice and the truck spun out.”

“That’s what we’d assumed,” he said. “Miss Y/L/N, does the name Brian Kemper mean anything to you?”

“No,” I said, the shock of what he’d told me still no processing.

“Think as hard as you can-”

“She said the name doesn’t mean anything to her,” Jensen said, his voice rising angrily.

“Why are you asking me this?” I asked, clenching my jaw when he hesitated. “Please. My parents are gone, and if something happened to them that I don’t know about…” I paused, not trusting myself to not break down if I kept talking.

Detective Lotz hesitated, watching me carefully before he stood, grabbing a folder from a filing cabinet in the corner of the room, sliding it onto the middle of the table. Jensen and I glanced down at it before looking back up to him in confusion.

“I don’t know how to tell you this,” he said, making my heart pound even faster. “We don’t think the crash was an accident.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “What?”

“We have a team of investigators working the case now-”

“What do you mean you don’t think it was an accident?” I asked, feeling like everything was moving in slow motion.

Detective Lotz rested his hands on the top of the folder between us, opening the front cover, “We think there may have been foul play involved.”

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[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (11/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : Graphic descriptions of violence, Viewer discretion is advised (short paragraph)

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 11/? (2247 words)

Author’s notes : The end of the second act draws nigh ! (also, I see some new followers, if you wanna be added to the taglist, feel free to ask !)

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“Eris, anyone home ?”

Leah's soft voice dragged me out of the void I'd been staring into for the past... Well, Gods know how long. I raised my head to meet her slightly worried gaze.

“Yeah, sorry. You wouldn't believe how many of those can't make the difference between a century and a millennium, it's appalling.”

She didn't seem that amused at my sorry excuse for a justification.

“Have you seen the bags under your eyes ?”, she reprimanded me in a hushed voice. “How long since you had a decent night of sleep ? You're so pale, you look like a damn vampire.”

I had a dry laugh. She wasn't wrong, to be fair. For the past four days, I barely got any sleep, any noise waking me up in a cold sweat, when I just didn't lay frozen in bed, unable to close my eyes, for hours on end, until the sun got up. Mostly, I only stayed up because of a carefully thought-out blend of coffee and anxiety.

“I'm fine, Leah. I just didn't put on any makeup this morning. That is my face”, I told her, trying to sound offended.

“Don't bullshit me. Go. Home.”

Her tone didn't invite arguing about it. She reached across the table, and took my hand in hers, smiling. She proposed calling me an Uber, but I figured walking would clear my head. I put away my stuff, leaving her to her books.

The library was almost entirely empty at this hour, and the normally automatic lights didn't even turn on as I passed through the halls. I slapped my badge on the door to get it open, and was welcomed by a gush of freezing air from the outside. The sun had only just set, and the orange lamp posts had everything seem grey, except the deep red of the sky, near the horizon. Everything was quiet, save from the intermittent cawing of a crow, or the rustling of leaves, in the light, but biting breeze that had set in with the night.

I started walking. The sound of my boots echoed in the empty campus' streets. At this time, there was about a tram every twenty minutes. If I walked fast, I'd catch the next one. As I started walking faster, I couldn't help but feel followed. That feeling, once it crossed your mind, could only set, seeping into every pore of your being, until you... I turned back. Nothing. Not even a shadow at the corner of a building, a suspiciously flickering light. Nothing. Even so, my chest felt too tight to breathe. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I kept on going toward the tram stop. Focus on that, the tram stop. Breathe in. I stopped, pushing my back against a post. Breathe out. I turned my head, trying to relax my tense muscles. In the corner of my eye, a shadow. I screamed, jumped back.

“I dream of a day where your first reaction to seeing me won't be that of a deer in headlights.”

He stepped in the light, as elegant as always, in his long, dark coat. He looked exceptionally well, about as much as I had to look dreadful. He took a step forward, and I instinctively took one back. He stopped, a look of disbelief painted on his features. He looked almost hurt by me pulling back.

“Is something wrong, Eris ?”, he asked, concerned, but equally demanding.

I tried to find an answer. Yes. Yes, something's wrong. Everything is goddamn fucking wrong.

“I'm gonna miss my tram”, I muttered.

I turned back to the way I was going, and in a second, I felt his hand on my arm stop me. My heart sank to my stomach, and I broke free of his grasp. My heart beat so fast I was almost gasping for air.

“Did something happen while I was gone ?”

“It's just- I don't- Nothing hap-”

My words came stuck in my throat. I didn't even know what to say. Where to start. He placed both his hands on my shoulders, calmly asking me to look up at him.

“You... You are shaking, what on earth... Am I causing this ? Do I scare you ?”

I raised my head to meet his gaze, jaws clenched not to have my teeth chatter. He looked so genuinely confused, I was finally able to take a deep breath.

“Can I trust you ?”, I managed to whisper.

He didn't answer a moment, seeming less ton consider his answer, than what prompted the question.

“Without question.” He was looking straight into my eyes, the intensity of his gaze leaving no place for a lie. Fuck, I wanted to believe him. The weight of his hands on my shoulders made me feel safe. How could it make me feel safe ? Wasn't that just another trick ? Another way to make me trust him, just to make the job easier ?

Tears I didn't notice building up burned my cheeks as they rolled down. He moved a hand to my face, and erased them with his thumb, softly.

“What happened ?”, he asked again.

If we are to stop this creature, we need your full support. For some reason, he trusts you more than most. You cannot tell him about your knowledge of this place.

I gently pulled myself from his grasp, and stepped back, forcing a smile.

“Nothing happened. I'm just tired”, I told him. “I really have to catch my tram, Vlad.”

“Nonsense, I'm bringing you home”, he insisted. “You are very obviously distressed, and lying to me. Get in the car.”

The authoritative tone had me shiver. I knew I didn't have any choice, in the end, and nodded. He opened the door for me, as always. I sat down, buckled up. Focused on the line of led lights, moving in a slow, red wave.

“If you refuse to talk to me”, Vlad began as he started the car, “I can only assume this has something to do with me. Now, understand that I could take a minute and find out, but I meant what I said, when I told you you could trust me.”

He kept focused on the road. I could tell him everything. That would be a risk. If he really was who MINA said he was, if he did... If he did what they said he did... That would most likely be my death warrant. If he started being too suspicious, he could just read my mind, and given how deeply those images were engraved into my brain, it wouldn't be too hard. I had no idea how to go about this.

“I found out the reason why Stephan was putting me off.”

“And that is ?”

“We looked into his family tree, and his mother is a Mary Van Helsing, from the Murray Institute for the Neutralization of Abnormalities.”

I said that on a single breath, and awaited his reaction. His face didn't betray any emotion, but his silence was speaking volumes.

“They found us out pretty fast”, I continued, figuring I was on too deep already. “We were taken to their headquarters, or whatever that bunker was. They were suspicious that I was acquainted with a vampire, posing as the respectable professor Vlad Balaur.”

“And what did you tell them ?”

His tone was frighteningly neutral. “For some reason I still can't explain, nothing”, I replied. “I had them believe I had no idea such things existed, less so that you were one.”

He had a short hum, but remained silent.

“They told me you were posing as a vampire they killed in 1896, Count Dracula, who apparently is quite the messiah in the Vampire World”, I jabbed at him. “That you probably manipulated my memories, my emotions, just so I'd end up like the others !”

Tears were streaming down my face, and despite my best efforts, my voice was shaking in anger. I couldn't help but think he could pull over and snap my neck at any moment. Might as well make the best of my last moments.

“Would you please clarify what you mean by 'the others' ?”

He sounded so calm, so composed. I tried not to think on the implications.

“They showed me the pictures, Vlad.” My chest hurt so bad. I barely was able to keep taking. “In retrospect, you were pretty clean with the horse. I guess he deserved better than human beings do, right ?”

“Eris, I don't understand-”

“Don't fucking lie to me !” My voice broke. I had no way to remain calm, the taste of bile going up my throat. “I saw it, I fucking saw the- the-” I slapped my hand over my mouth, desperately trying to catch my breath.

Vlad had the turning signal on, and pulled over. I couldn't stop crying, my face buried into my hands, unable to form any coherent sentence. The car stopped. He didn't say anything. At any moment, I thought I'd feel his hands around my neck, or his teeth. Instead, he only called out my name, softly, barely audible through my sobbing.

“Eris, please.”

I dried up my face as best I could with my scarf.

“You promised. You promised you wouldn't hurt anybody”, I managed to stammer between hiccups.

“I have not-”

“I saw the pictures !”, I repeated. “They showed me- So much blood-”

I turned my head to his. He slowly raised a hand to my face, hesitantly, waiting for a rebuffal. I did nothing, and he pushed strands of hair off my forehead, and cupped my cheek. His touch was so soothing. Not a bad feeling to die on.

“And you believed them ?”

“I- I- Of course, they just- Who else ?”

“I have no idea”, he admitted, his voice soft, and calm. “Eris, I have not, not a single time, done anything contrary to our agreement. I have not taken a life since our second meeting.”

I wanted to believe him, so bad. I wanted to believe he wasn't the monster responsible for the contents of Mary Van Helsing's case-file.

“How can I believe you ? How can I be certain you're not lying to me ?”, I breathed out, still resting my head onto his hand.

“You can't. You can only trust me.” He leaned in, placing a light kiss on my forehead, as was his habit. He pulled away, keeping close. “Do you trust me ?”

“Yes”, I replied, without thinking about it.

I did. As stupid, dangerously stupid as it was, I did. What else could I do ? What was the better option ? Were the MINA guys that much more trustworthy ? Well, if you took into account the fact that they didn't try to kill me yet, probably.

“As for the fact that I would be my own usurper, I don't know how to argue for it, to be honest. I have rarely been faced with the task of proving my identity.”

He sat back behind the wheel, and started the car.

“You would do well to remember that MINA was founded by people who were so terrified of me, they left without assuring themselves of the success of their mission, which led to accounts of my death being greatly exaggerated.”

I couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

“There, I like that better.”

The rest of the ride was mostly silent, which was still arguably better than crying. Vlad finally pulled over in front of my building. I got out of the car, took a few steps, but didn't go further than that. Behind me, I head his door open.

“Should I wait for you on your balcony ?”

I took a deep breath. “No.” I turned on my heels to face him. “You're taking the stairs, for once.”

“I... Beg your pardon ?”

“Just follow me, will you ?”

He shut his door, and I went to open my building's door. I buzzed us in, holding the door for him. Guess he didn't need an invitation for the whole building, huh. What the hell was I doing ? There's a difference between not thinking someone does gruesome murders in his spare time, and inviting them over for a cup of tea ! Especially if their drink of choice isn't your damn Russian Earl Grey !

Well, too late to turn back now. I tried to keep a sense of dignity as we climbed the stairs. It didn't seem to put any strain on him, all the while I'd been living here for years, and was still dying inside. Catching my breath as gracefully as I could, I unlocked my door. Zardoz came running at me, agressively rubbing himself agaisnt my boots, screaming bloody murder, or, in that case, famine.

“You have a... cat”, Vlad stated.

I had a short laugh as I picked up the protesting beast. “What, are you allergic ?”

“They... Don't like me.”

He looked at the animal with some sort of defiance.

“Well, this one hates everyone, don't feel like it's personal.”

He stood at the door, nearly taking up all the space of the frame. Holding the cat in my arms gave me courage, as I felt his low purr against my hands. I took a few steps back, and had a curteous bow.

“Voivode Vlad Dracula Tepes, me and this cat welcome you into our home.”

He smiled, and stepped in.

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