#we have one ch left in coil i will not be okay

[kavennnn]

end of ch 32 oh god oh god oh fuck

[reddogf13]

Outlast 2: Deliverance CH 5

Also on A03

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - Dead Dove Do Not Eat This takes place in the Outlast 2 universe after all.

Previous chap: CH: 4 Eucharist

Next chap: CH: 6 Apothecary

_______________

~Ch: 5 Deluge~

The next morning Blake woke to a knock on his door. Grumbling as he got up to answer. “Coming.” Almost falling over before he reached the door in his half awake state.

Meeting Marta standing at the door with a man stood beside her. “I brought you Jacob, the traveler.”

He shrunk under her gesturing toward him looking like a child brought to the principle. He was shorter than most with a completely shaved head. Thin as a twig suffering some sort of jittery tick. One arm randomly flexing its muscle to shut his hand closed. Another twitched half his face to tug his mouth as his eye squinted repeatedly.

“Oh, yeah, very good.” Rubbing his face to wake up faster. “Let's go talk in the hall.” Gesturing in a point for them to head toward the large room. “Okay.” He yawned when they were seated.

“You wanted to s-see me s-s-sir?” His voice stuttered along to his twitches.

“Yes, you used to travel outside? Can you take up the trips again?”

“Sure, but it'll take longer than before. S-s-since the truck broke down.”

“How long?”

“About three and a half days. Here and back. That's if the trail hasn't been r-r-ruined by the storm.”

“How long with a truck?”

“Only two hours.”

“Is the truck fixable?”

“No, since i-i-its axle was shot by hitting a log. Knoth had it stripped for parts. E-e-engines almost gone.”

“Fuckin- “ Blake took a deep breath. “Okay, walking it is. Are you the only traveler left?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you and I need to travel? Food, bandages, rope?”

“Mainly food and space to carry. What w-w-we need most though are weapons. Wildlife isn't the only problem. Heretics took over the east for a reason. I-i-i couldn't get past even if I wanted.”

Waylon felt sick again. “I get that.”

“Heretics are called goats now.” Marta corrected.

Jacobs' extremely confused look cleared by Blake's explanation. “They're not heretics and it seemed wrong to keep calling them that. Goats sounded a lot better and less anxiety inducing. Since they might block our path, what if we bring Marta?”

“That would keep them away, but w-w-what about Temple Gate? Everyone knows the here- goats. Don't come ‘cause of h-h-her.”

“We'll have to take the risk. It's been a month since you've last gone. The generator must be running on fumes by now.”

“Two months. We've only gotten the gas to last this long by disconnecting chunks of Temple Gate. B-b-but like you said, its reaching fumes. Some gallons will buy us a couple days, but to fill it f-f-for even a week we need a truck to haul it back.”

“We got the cash to get a new truck. We get to town and from there we load up on what we need and travel back in a few hours. What do we need to travel?” Returning to the earlier question.

“A few meals each, the money, bandages for emergencies, some rope to climb over anything. Axes to chop firewood for camp. Warm clothing and something to sleep on.”

“Okay. Best if we have James come along. We'll be buying seeds to get farming up and running again. What I also want most are more meds. Knoth's “study aids”, can you still get them?”

“Should be able. Doctor didn't say anything about leaving. He's gotta be w-w-wondering where his favorite patient is.”

“Right, Wait here and I'll gather everything up.” He stood, followed by Marta to fetch supplies and James for the journey.

Spreading the message of the renamed heretics earning Blake looks. like he was the crazy one in this town. Must be if I'm trying to run it. Goats, how fucking stupid. Could've named them something normal. Neighbors would have been easier. Guess the ridiculousness of it is working. Can't be too scared of a man eating group of “goats” on the mountain. Meeting up with James to pass along their plans. Scavenging the pantry for a few “meals” to pack. Rope coiled up in a bag along with bandages packed into Blake's vest. Blake packed as much money as he could into a backpack he found. Gathered back around Jacob he double checked what they packed for approval. Given the go ahead they readied to leave.

“Most of the journeys gonna be rough up and over the mountain. P-p-past that it's easier when we reach flat land.” Jacob pointed in the direction they would head for.

They didn't make it out of town when John came running up. Looking like he had a rough night's sleep. “You're going outside? And you're taking Marta with you? Why, shouldn't she stay here? What about the heretics?! - Ah fuckin'- goats, whatever!”

“We have to reach the outside. Three of us wouldn't last if we're swarmed by them.”

“But the whole town will be swarmed instead. Take me instead.”

“Why?”

“I've traveled all over there to hunt, back around when the goats broke off. I can sneak you by without any trouble and Marta can stay to keep the town safe. Is there really a point to this if you come back to all us strung up?”

Blake didn't have a chance to answer. Marta interrupted with an alert he never wanted to hear. “Val's here.”

“What?!” Looking up at the women tall enough to gaze over the obstructions beside them. “Where?!” After she pointed he ran down the line of blockages to see for himself. Not having the eagle vision Marta had it took him longer to spot Val. Catching the speck of her golden hair at the tree line. Standing to watch the town with her head turning back and forth between its ends. He couldn't see anyone else with her, yet they could have just been hiding back in the thick shrubbery. At the appearance of Marta stepping into the open, Val locked her gaze on her. Stepping back to disappear between the trees.

“See?! She's already looking at how to take this place down!” Shifting his stiff shoulders the more frantic he turned.

Blake heard John shouting, but hardly took in the words. Mind racing on its options. Val would see who left the town. If Marta stayed, Temple Gate would be safe, but he would be an easy target. Despite John's earlier offering to navigate the land by sneaking. Marta may scare them off, but he preferred they all run. Marta's limp coming to the front as a problem causer. Harder to run, defend, and move over rough terrain. If Blake was going to take care of this town he had to make sure everyone stayed safe. “Marta will stay here. We'll sneak by the mountain.”

John looked relieved by his answer. “Thank you, sir.”

Marta stomped on the conversation. “You sure about that? Can he really get you by?”

“Town has to stay safe and you call too much attention. Yeah I'm sure.” Looking to the rest. “Now let's hurry. I rather disappear before Val notices we're leaving.”

One last look given to Temple Gates town sign as they passed. Out of town the sky was filled by gray clouds. Rain falling over them before their journey got anywhere out of Temple Gates view. “Well.” James started. “Gonna be a lot harder to follow our tracks.” Rain filling them with water. Mini streams flowing down hill sweeping away the rest.

“No bears will sniff us out either.” Jacob added.

“There are bears here?” Blake's concern rising.

“N-n-not for a long while. Haven't seen anything bigger than fat raccoon's.”

John grabbed onto a log to help hoist the others up. “If only they were actually fat. Would be a good meal, but it's all fluff.”

“A scrawny meals better than nothin’. Though I'd love to have steak a-a-again. Wouldn't care if I had to chew on it like leather.”

“Best I can do is a squirrel around here. Gotta beat the things to make the stringiness less of a chew.”

James grumbled at the two of them. “Can you both stop talkin' 'bout food. Least not 'till after we've caught some.”

“That's a ways away, old man.” John joked.

Blake after being helped up next glanced back down hill toward the engorged river rushing by. “Hey, we won't have any trouble with the river will we?”

“Shouldn't, we won't be crossing it f-f-from here on. Most we have to worry about is catching a sickness in this weather.”

“Hope it won't rain the entire way.”

“Heh, don't know how good y-y-your luck is. Mine's shit, heh.”

“And you're the one leading?”

“Not at all. That's John's job for the first few miles. If we die you can b-b-blame him. Heh.”

“Fuck off.” John smiled at Jacob. “We won't die long as-” He went quiet at the loud sound of crackling. Head shooting up to watch the tops of distant trees. One by one they sloped down as the loud snapping approached them. Blake, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, turned to see the mountain side sloping away. Whole adult trees that were on their path rode down on moving earth. Those same trees collapsing down on each other to loudly snap themselves to pieces. Grinded down into the earth to make a blended mud sludge. “Run that way!” John pointed toward a more stable land.

Each of them bolted off toward a part not sliding out from under their feet. Clambering over everything that was also on the move. Avoiding trees collapsing in a massive wave of mud. They leapt off a log to a safer part of land, Blake didn't have the same luck. The whole log shoved away by the mudslide he slipped to almost roll off it. He was forced to claw into the log free floating down the mountain. His traveling companions shrank in the distance, unable to keep up. Unable to see them anymore he turned to where the log was going. All the land flying off a cliff edge to slam down into the violent rapids flushed by the heavy rain. He flinched when it was his turn next. When the log hit it spun under the water to toss Blake off into the wild stream. Disoriented, he tried figuring out where the surface was. Spinning uncontrollably in the rapids below the surface. Water pitch black from mud not helped by the many logs rolling around. Bashing into the rocky river bed the air escaped his lungs. Knocked over debris one after another he somehow managed to be knocked to the surface. Clawing into a soaken slick log for dear life. Hacking painfully for air until he was spun back under. Tossed in and out repeatedly he was losing the energy to fight.

Hacking his lungs out on another log while the stream settled. Knocked around more by piling debris rather than rapids at this point. Closing in on a rocky shore line he clawed his way across multiple logs. Reaching land he struggled to get further up on it slipping under him. Its angle extra cruel on his battered body crawling up it to a flat ridge. He laid wheezing in the mud too tired to rise. Shivering soaking wet he shut his eyes meaning to do it briefly. Waking instead what seemed like hours later. Beaten almost to death he was tempted to go back to sleep. Rising enough to wipe his glasses clear he moved to stand. Feeling immense pain from his leg he looked back. A large chunk of a branch speared down the side of his lower leg.

“Fucking, shit. My fucking luck.” Reaching back for it at first then swiftly retracting his hand. “Can't yank it out. Can I keep it in though?” His blood pouring from the wound had him look away. Prepared for the pain he forced himself up. Growling through grit teeth he leaned against a nearby tree to recover. Searching for some-sort of recognizable marker. He couldn't see Temple Gate anymore and the mountains all looked the same. No idea where the others were he was left alone. “Fuck me.” He cursed again. Reaching into his vest for a roll of gauze. “Better than nothing I guess.” Wrapping up his bleeding wound. Trying to at least slow it despite the branch sticking out. Okay. Checking around without a clue on what to do.

“John?” He shouted and waited for an answer. Nothing, he shouted again. Hacking out his stinging lungs he almost vomited. Managing to keep everything down he held off on more shouting. Maybe I can get some place high and find a land marker? Limping forward he forced himself up the steep hillside. A lot farther than what he expected to make on his leg. Resting on a flat area he regretted committing to this. His leg felt both on fire and numb. This is worse than when I was actually on fire. Leaning over to catch up on his energy. Pushing on to make it up a scraggly cliff area he feared slipping off of. One tumble and I might end up back in the river. Or shredded on those rocks. Adjusting his soaken backpack full of cash to stay secure the further up he went.

Resting again at another flat top covered in soaked grass. Patch becoming extremely tempting as a place to fall asleep again. Hearing the underbrush rustling he shot up straight. “John?” Locking up at the sight of a stranger staring wide eyed at Blake's appearance. He was tall and covered by crossing scars. Black Hair cut neatly short parted by more scarring. A big dip marking half his lower jaw like a chunk was ripped away. His vibrant green eyes stood out from the dark circles surrounding them. What was most alarming was his covering of clay and leafage for camouflage. This was definitely a heretic and that meant Val wouldn't be far. The stranger looked away back down his path before finding Blake. Whipping their attention back toward him, locking an intense stare. Body stiffened with both hands tightened to fists. Pure rage filled his eyes moments before he ran out to slam into Blake.

“Fuck! Get off me!” Blake shouted in trying to shove the other off after having the wind knocked out of him. Kicking the other in the gut he fought the stunned other back to their feet. Punches traded between the two until Blake was slammed into a boulder. Swearing he felt something crack his body locked up in pain. Yanked around to be slammed back into the dirt he thrashed to get away. Clawing into the others arms choking him into the dirt. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Was what Blake's mind repeated. Unable to think much else on the lack of air.

“What are you doing?!” He heard a voice shout out of view. It distracted the other enough for Blake to hoist his legs up. Shocked that he managed to throw them both off a cliff edge he didn't realize was so close. Their fall short, down onto the rocks below. Last thing Blake experienced was hearing a thwack at the bottom then darkness.

A pulse in his head drumming along to a thumping migraine was his wake up greeting.

Tuning in on someone roaring a bunch of words. “ -TO STAY ALIVE! NOW LOOK AT HIM!”

Blake squinted an eye open. He was laying on his side at the bottom of the short cliff area. Surrounded by rocks, some coated red in blood. Two blurry forms coming to focus. One had another slammed up against the cliff side.

Verbally ripping into them by their scolding shouts. “ -YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!” He heard them seethe through their teeth. Shoving the other down. “Pick him up, we're taking him to the cave.” When they turned toward Blake his vision cleared enough to see who it was before him.

VAL?! His mind screamed. His eyes shooting open yanked her attention toward him. Caught off guard by him suddenly waking, she didn't have a chance to give orders. He jumped up from his laying position. Someone must've been leaning over him, because when he did he slammed his head into someone's jaw. The clack of their teeth together rattled down through his skull. Knocking whoever it was back into others nearby. Shoving the rest of himself up he ran back down the hillside he worked so hard to climb.

He heard Val shouting orders not far behind him. ��Grab him!” Sounds of separating plants catching up behind him.

“Fuck, fuck, shit!” He let out a chain of panicked curses. Coughing again worsened his wheezing. Hating that his leg was burning and now his lungs were too. Can't stop, can't stop! Mind repeating simple thoughts of escape. Half tempted to jump back into the river where Val couldn't follow. He certainly couldn't out run her with how injured he was. Weighing his chances he headed for the river. Prepared to jump in when he heard a familiar terrifying sound. A howling yell from a raging Marta. Blake, out of old reflex, almost fled back. Forcing himself to rush forward in knowing it was now something safe. When they saw her appear up the bank. Blake collapsed down into an exhausted heap past her. Catching sight of Val slamming herself back into the dirt to stop before Marta. Ripping up the loose dirt under her heels in the process. Scrambling back up away from Marta moving in on her. The other heretics scurried away in various directions. When they were out of sight Marta turned to check on Blake.

“Are you well?”

Blake wheezed, unable to answer from his seated position. Everything catching up he hacked until he vomited what liquid was in his stomach. Fighting to not black out as Marta stood guard over him. “How?” He breathed out.

“I was watching you pass the mountain until the mudslide took you away. When those idiots separated to search I didn't trust them to find you. Came upon Val shouting so much he must've caught you.”

He still couldn't speak, merely nodding to show he heard.

“What happened to your leg?”

He looked down, fearful that he messed it up worse in all that sudden running. Taken aback by his leg having been treated. The branch gone, his wound packed over by a dark green poultice then wrapped in clean gauze. Checking his vest he found another bundle of gauze missing. They fixed my leg? Guess they just wanted all of me to make it back. My dead body wouldn't be too fun to keep prisoner. “Mudslide.” Was his best answer for now.

“Blake?” He heard a familiar voice. John approached down along the river. “What happened, are you okay?!”

“Damned goats almost got him.” Marta answered for him.

“Ugh, can we please call them something else.” Mumbling up to the two. “What about his leg?”

“Mudslide.”

“Can you get up at all?”

Blake shook his head. Marta continued to speak for him. “I wouldn't force him up for a few hours. Maybe not 'till tomorrow.”

“Okay, that's for the best just by lookin' at you. I'm gonna go back out and find the boys. If I don't, I'll return to set us up a camp.”

“Watch out for goats.” Marta warned, smirking at the ridiculous label. Blake would've chuckled if he had the spare air to.

“Can we please call them something else.” John whined again.

Blake thought a bit harder for a name. Remembering a certain book he read that fit the heretics' views. Going against religious suppression and wanting freedom. “Voltaire's?” Catching his breath again. “Big author, argued for freedom against church.” He surprisingly wheezed out in one go. Was also a really good band. He thought back to his school days listening to their music.

“Good enough.” John went off to search.

A few hours passed by the time he returned with the others. Able to get up on his feet they walked Blake from the area. Expecting the Voltaire's to make a night visit if they stuck around. A campfire was made with everyone popping open a can of food for dinner.

“Good news is we got far today. We're already on the other side of Voltaire mountain.” John spooned out some more chili.

“Not far enough, still gotta cross the rest of the mountain range. That'll take m-m-most the day for us. We won't make it outside 'till nightfall. We'll have to wait for stores to open next morning if its t-t-too late.���

“If we manage to get a truck the return journey won't be as long at least. You think the doctors still around?”

“Didn't hear anything about him leaving last I was there.”

“Where is he? Down a back alley?”

Jacob shook his head. “He's in a small doctors office. All legally set up, for the most part. When you go in you say you have a prescription and h-h-hand a piece with our symbol scribbled on it.” Flashing a small bit of tanned hide with the cross entwined by circles branded on. “Doctor takes us in back for business.”

Blake continued to ask questions. Wanting to know how everything would go down. How the doctor himself acted. Whether or not he seemed to be a real doctor at all or a scam artist in a white coat. What he was told by Jacob settled his worry's. The doctor has an honest-ish job. A legal place with all the proper paperwork to back it up if inspectors came knocking. He was just greedy for money and saw more business selling pills out back. Done talking for now they rested down against their bags. Marta stayed up to guard until morning.

[seacee16]

when petals fall | bangchan

bang chan x original female character

prev chapter // next chapter

!! FULL STORY ON AO3 !!

ch. 3 ~ when getting to know you

The soft rap of knuckles against wood pulled Chan out of his bubble, causing him to turn away from his screen to look at the visitor in his doorway. Jisung stood in the entrance, hair tucked neatly underneath a red cap. He had stayed behind a little later with Lee Know to perfect one of the moves they had learnt earlier in the day. But the missing presence in his studio meant that the other member was likely already waiting to leave.

“You finishing up?” Jisung asked him, leaning on the doorframe. His eyes drifted between Chan and his open laptop.

A guilty look plastered itself on the leader's face.

“I wish. The sample arrangement for ‘Thunderous' apparently still needs some changes before we start recording.”

Jisung sighed. “It can’t wait for tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid not. We’re still missing a few tracks, and I promised Hyunjin we’d work on our unit bit tomorrow. So, the sooner I can get this done, the sooner I can sleep.”

“Don’t overdo it. Okay, hyung?” Chan smiled at his friend, his very first kid.

Jisung seemed content with the nod he got in return, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He had faith in his leader. He would get through the work quicker than anyone else on their team, and they all trusted his abilities to do so efficiently.

“Okay, good luck. I’ll tell Felix that you really have to stay tonight.”

“Thank you, Hannie.”

The younger gave a mock salute before disappearing down the hallway and to the car where Lee Know was no doubt waiting for him. Then it was Chan alone once more. He sat for a while in the silence, with the dim light hurting his eyes like they usually did. And there he sat for a few more hours, working to complete the task at hand.

Just as the numbers in the bottom corner of his laptop screen grazed the beginning of a new hour, and the final note of the now perfected track rang throughout the little studio, Chan let out a content sigh. Done at last.

“I should get home,” he mumbled to himself. But deep down, something tugged on his thoughts. He shook it off.

If he were to leave right now, he would get home in time to have a healthy amount of sleep for the first time in a while. The kids’ minds would be at ease knowing that he wasn’t spending his entire night cramped up in front of his screens, and sleeping for short intervals on his semi-comfortable black couch. He could take a shower to take away the remaining tension buried in his muscles. Have a warm meal that didn’t consist of just company coffee and ramen. And then he could sleep. A good, long, needed sleep. The thought alone made him droopy.

So, why did he find himself heading in the opposite direction as soon as he left the building?

Why did he walk briskly along the same route as he had the night before?

And why, the entire time, could he not stop wondering whether or not she would be there?

The latter of Chan’s questions were answered as soon as he made it to the clearing besides the brightly lit river side. And he couldn’t help but smile knowing that she was there. Just like the night before, she had her hair pulled up out of her face. The only difference was that this time she wasn’t dancing. Instead, she was laying down on her back, her hands stretched up to the sky as if trying to touch the stars.

He approached her slowly, hoping that she would be as welcoming as she had been before. And she was.

Chan found himself leaning over her reclined figure. Her eyes were closed now, with her arms crossed over her stomach. The sleek black wires extending from her ears coiled around her face towards the phone that rested on her chest, rising and falling with every breath she took.

When her eyes finally opened, they widened at the sight of the male hovering amongst the stars above her. Once the surprise had settled, she smiled.

“You’re out late, stranger.”

“Aren’t I always?” He asked in response. She chuckled, nodding.

“Fair enough.” Sakura removed the earphones from her ears. “What brings you to this side of the river tonight, Christopher?”

Chan lowered himself to the soft grass besides her and laid down, his shoulder briefly brushing against hers before she shifted away an inch. The act confused him, but he didn’t question it. They were still practically strangers after all. He found himself staring straight up at the few stars visible through the haze of the manmade light around them. She did the same.

“Another song slump?”

“Yes and no,” he answered honestly. “I had to stay late to finish one song, which I did. But I’m still struggling with the other one.”

Chan felt her wiggle in the grass besides him before stilling once more. She then asked, “If your work for the night is done, then why not go home to the kids?”

“Now that is the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” He paused. Turning his head to look at her, he said, “You called my member’s ‘the kids’.” He could feel the grass tickling his cheek as he moved to be more comfortable.

Sakura’s head turned towards him, eyes twinkling in the dark.

“Do I really have to pretend not to know you tonight?”

“That depends, are you going to freak out or tweet about my location?”

“I didn’t realize I was the personified stereotype of a 12-year-old girl still in her One Direction phase,” she shot back. Her head faced the sky once more. “I’m not a child, Chan.”

“Are you sure? Because you look really young?”

She looked at him through peripherals. “Is that your attempt at flattery, or you trying to get information out of me?”

“Can it be both?” He questioned. Sakura gave him no response. Chan let out a stiff sigh. “I didn’t mean to assume you’d react that way. Not to sound conceited, but I rarely meet people who – upon knowing who I am – don’t scream in my presence. Apologies.”

Her eyes scanned his face, before verbally accepting his apology.

“For your information, I’m 22.”

“So, young?”

“While my age may say that, my soul and these old bones surely think otherwise.”

Chan spoke again, before any silence could fall upon them. “Do you really come out here every night?”

A breezy laugh was heard from her end. Chan wasn’t sure why she had reacted that way, but part of him wanted to hear her laugh again.

“You sure are chatty tonight,” she told him, eyes resting on the ebony sky.

A blush rose to Chan’s cheeks, and he went quiet. Maybe she came out in the dead of night for the solitude, to be away from all noise. A breath of fresh air in a city that barely had time to inhale. He’d hate to be the one to disturb her peace, so he waited for her to ask him to leave. To make up some excuse as to why she had to suddenly go back home. But she didn’t. She just kept looking up.

After some time, the silence became unbearable for the male, and just before he could speak-

“To be honest,” she said. “I started coming out here at night because I wanted to be alone. I’ve gotten used to people constantly calling on me, needing me to do small things. But in the dead of night, when everything but the stars and the moon are asleep, I get to relax. I get to feel.” Sakura’s head lolled to one side; eyes on him, the right corner of her mouth pulled upwards. “At least, that was the case until a strangely familiar looking Aussie approached me.”

“Sorry about that,” he confessed. She shook her head, the opposite corner of her mouth pulling up as well.

“Don’t worry about it. Your company hasn’t been all too bad.” Out of her line of vision, a genuine smile slipped onto Chan’s face. He found himself enjoying her company and was happy to know that she didn’t hate his.

“So,” he asked shyly. “How was your day?”

Sakura barked out a laugh, eyes pinching at its corners as she did. Her hair – splayed around her on the grass – wriggled on the grass as she shook her head.

“That was adorable.” Her eyes found his once more, for a moment before he broke the contact. “Why is it that you seem so nervous around me, Chan? Shouldn’t I be the nervous one in this situation?”

“Why would you be nervous?” Sakura’s eyes widened, shocked that he would ask such a thing.

“How could anyone be calm around you? Not going to lie, your rep makes you kind of intimidating.”

“Really?” That was a surprise to him. He had never thought of himself to be intimidating, but rather the opposite.

Her eyes rolled. “You’re the leader of one of the greatest 4th gen groups, and you’ve just won Kingdom. You may have been on the map before, but right now you’re a giant beacon flashing red in the dead of night. Forgive me for not being completely void of nerves in your presence.”

“You don’t seem nervous,” he stated.

“Trust me,” she swore. “If you knew the way my heart was hammering inside of my chest right now, you’d know exactly how nervous I am.” After an uncomfortable cough, she continued, “But this isn’t about me. Why are you so nervous?”

Chan remained silent for a good moment, thinking.

The corners of Sakura’s mouth turned down. She looked down at the missed flecks of paint on the skin of her wrists, scratching at them until they peeled off. “I’m not going to tell anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Her words sounded sad, low.

“No, I know. I believe you. Its just-“ Chan paused, thinking of what to say to her. How to phrase his words. Always cautious. “It’s not easy to make friends outside of the entertainment industry, and, to be honest, it’s not always easy to make friends within the industry either.”

With a taunting grin, she asked, “We’re friends?” Chan glared back at her, earning two palms raised to the sky in surrender.

“I guess, I’m just nervous that this will somehow go wrong,” he finished.

“Then why’d you come back here tonight?”

Truth was, Chan wasn’t sure. He didn’t know why he had wanted to see her again. Or why he wanted to keep seeing her.

“You seemed…different.”

“Not that I don’t love a good cliché, but I’m going to need a bit of an elaboration on that,” she teased, but deep down, she wanted nothing more than to know what he meant. Why she was so different to him.

“Well, for one, you didn’t scream or shove a blinding camera into my face.”

“Again, I am a mature 22-year-old,” she shot back, but there was no hostility this time. It was playful.

“You looked so at peace when I saw you dancing, like nothing in the world could bring you down from the cloud you were on. Unbothered, free. I haven’t been able to feel that way in a long time. Don’t get me wrong, I love my members and the path that I get to walk with them, but it’s not always easy. And yesterday, when I saw you, you looked at ease.”

Sakura’s focus returned to the stars as he spoke, wishing that the things he said were true. That she had been on that high cloud, that she had been unbothered by the world. But, despite his assumptions, he was right about one thing.

“If I’m being honest, yesterday was the first time I’ve felt at ease in a while,” she admitted. Then she shrugged her shoulders and let out a deep sigh. “But that is not a story for today. Or ever really.”

“I’d be here to listen if you ever did want to tell me.”

His sincerity caused her to waver, and for a moment they were just a boy and a girl who had met by chance once night. Who had become friends. Who could do the things that most friends could. And it was a blissful moment.

“Oh,” Sakura suddenly said as she sat upright and twisted to face her company. He watched her, curious about what she would say. “I watched the movie you suggested.” Her hands lifted to play with the end of her short ponytail, picking out pieces of grass caught between locks. “I needed to pass time before my class and both of my roommates weren’t home. So, I decided why not, and watched the full thing. I didn’t realize it would be that long, though.”

Chan’s eyes lit up. She actually watched it.

“Any thoughts on it?” He asked.

“You were right,” she breathed. “It was incredible. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen. At one point I was so invested that I accidentally poured my Sprite into my popcorn bowl instead of a glass.”

He was fulling facing her now. “Did you have a favourite part?”

She shook her head, but said, “I do have a question though.”

Chan motioned for her to continue, eager to hear her thoughts on the film’s concepts.

“Is Cobb’s spinning top really his totem?”

“Yes, but, if I remember correctly, it was Mal’s first,” Chan responded, slightly confused by the simplicity of her question.

“Then what was his original totem? Before Mal died.”

“I’m not sure,” he told her honestly. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“I saw a theory that said the top didn’t really work for him, because it wasn’t his own. And that his real totem was his wedding ring. That’s why you only see it in some scenes.” The gears turned as she spoke, with Chan taking in everything she proposed. “If that theory is true, and his totem is the ring, then that means that the final scene wasn’t real. He wasn’t seeing his kids in the real world-“

“It was a dream,” Chan finished for her, in awe of what he had just discovered. He had watched the movie numerous times since it had been released and not once had he noticed the ring’s disappearance. He sat for a moment, thinking over the legitimacy of her theory. “I’m going to have to rewatch it sometime soon. What if there were other parts of the movie that were just a dream to him too?”

Her smile broadened. “I had the same thought.” Then she sunk, looking guilty. “But it was way too long for me to watch it again. Give me a month and then I’ll get back to it.”

The male chuckled, fully understanding where she came from. It was a heavy movie to sit through, but it was worth it every time. Chan smiled to himself, amazed by her thoughts on the film he loved.

“So, I know your favourite movie, but what else is there to know about miss Sakura Itõ?”

Feeling cliché, she responded by asking what he would want to know. “My life is significantly uneventful compared to your own. But I suppose I can see how, with your lifestyle, you would enjoy the mundane.” Her claim was confirmed by a small nod, his blonde hair bouncing with the movement. “However, I’m going to need you to be very specific with what you want to know or else my brain will quite literally short-circuit trying to think of something.”

“Hmm okay,” he started. “I’ll start easy. You said you’re Japanese. Were you born in Japan, or just raised there? I’m only asking being your fluency in Korean is actually alarming.”

“That’s because I’m actually a spy trained in the art of stealthy infiltration,” she teased, eyes narrowing as her grin widened. Sakura went on to say, “Japan born and raised. Hokkaido, if you want the specifics. My parents have close family friends here in Seoul, so we visited often when we were growing up.”

She abruptly turned towards him, a faint pout to her lips. They were a faded shade of coral, the colour deeper on the fuller centre of her bottom lip. “Hold up, this trade isn’t very fair. You need to give up some information too.”

Chan shrugged. “I was born in Sydney-“

“Doesn’t count if I already know that.” He looked at her with a curious expression, one that bordered smug the longer she paused. “Don’t look at me like when you have an entire Wikipedia page dedicated to you.”

“One, its dedicated to the songs I’ve written and produced, not my life. And two, what would you like to know instead?”

Sakura allowed herself a minute to think. “Three random things about you that I probably can’t find out online. Go.”

A soft hum was heard as he took a moment to think about his answer. It took a while. So much of his life had been documented for the world to see, whether he liked it or not. Eventually, he found his answers.

“Despite all the recommendations from Hyunjin, I haven’t read a book since my trainee years. I once tried to teach Jisung how to play the ukulele, but he didn’t like how small it was compared to the guitar. And my favourite colour isn’t actually black.”

“I don’t know, that last one sounds more like a lie than a fact, but I’ll let it slide.”

With a roll of his eyes, he said, “Your turn, smartass.”

“The first time I tried sushi it was because my friends were peer pressuring me and ended in me almost throwing up in the hallway of our campus’ science building. I have a fear of people dressed as mascots and clowns and would probably cry if I were approached by one. And the sound of Styrofoam rubbing against each other makes me want to drive a screwdriver through one ear and out the other.”

Chan cringed. “You just mentioned the Styrofoam and I felt it go right through me.”

A short period of silence fell between the two as they looked out at the glittering skyline in front of them.

“Tell me about Australia,” she told him, breaking the silence.

“Australia? You’ve never been?”

“To be completely honest, Korea is the only place that I’ve travelled to outside of Japan. I’m curious about what it’s like there. What it was like when you were growing up.”

“Well, you probably already know that I grew up with two siblings.” She nodded, watching him intently as he spoke. He stopped to ask her if she had any siblings.

“Two,” she replied, a trace of bitterness to her words. “One older and one younger.”

“Ah, so you’re a middle child like Hannah. Does that make you the mean sibling in your family?” He teased. To his amusement, she shoved his shoulder lightly, causing not even an inch of movement in the male. So, he continued, “In all honestly, it was a great place to grow up. Sydney is indescribably beautiful in so many aspects. I was the outdoor-sy kind of kid so I loved being in such a naturally rich environment. It wouldn’t have been the same had my family stayed in Korea back then.”

“You would love Hokkaido,” Sakura told him with a sincere smile. “My family loved hiking, so we religiously spent countless weekend in Daisetsuzan National Park. Especially once autumn hit. Its surreal.” Thinking back to those weekends with her complete family made her heart ache. Images of a man laughing loudly as he pretended to climb up a steep rockface and standing above the clouds overlooking a sea of white flashed through her mind, each glimpse more painful than the last. So, she shut it off, motioning for Chan to continue.

“My dad is a swimming coach. Because of that, and the fact that I lived where beaches were in abundance, I practically grew up in the water. And I was pretty damn good at it, if I do say so myself.” Sakura nudged him playfully, causing the male to laugh.

“No need to get cocky there, Nemo.”

“Nemo?” he asked quizzically. “Because I was a swimmer?”

“Well, it couldn’t possibly be because of your unusually small fin.”

“Hey, my fin has a great personality.”

Sakura felt herself choke on the air being pulled into her lungs, cheeks ablaze. Did he just- The laughed coming from besides her only proved her point, causing the girl’s face to burn brighter than before.

“I am just going to ignore that last comment,” she said with a small laugh, looking at the blades of grass she had unconsciously plucked out of the ground. “I loved swimming growing up, but not in pools; the chlorine wasn’t the best on my skin. But the ocean? I would spend hours in the waves.” With him, she thought sadly, the pain creeping up on her heart silently.

“Loved? Why past tense?” He asked, thankfully missing the sudden gloss to her eyes. She blinked away any true emotion and slapped on a grin.

“I get cold really easy these days,” she admitted honestly, to which he nodded in understanding.

The pair of tireless souls continued to talk, with hours passing as if they were mere seconds. Eventually, Sakura’s eyes began to droop and it was time to draw their little meeting to a close once again. However, unlike the previous night, this one didn’t end with a simple goodbye. Instead, the male dug around in his pocket, before suggesting something unexpected.

“Would it be completely inappropriate of me to ask if I could have your number?” Chan asked boldly, hoping that the nerves he felt didn’t show on his face.

Sakura was taken aback by his request. Sure, she had pretended nothing of their encounter the day prior, and had tried her best to be the same when he appeared again earlier that night, but this was something she never would have expected. Why my number? The thought ran through her head like a freight train, along with every possible negative outcome that could occur as a result of this exchange.

She played off her delayed response with a chuckle. “Are you even allowed to give that information out to strangers?”

Of course, he was. But that didn’t stop him from second guessing his actions. She was still a stranger; they’d only spoken twice now. Nothing was stopping her from sharing the information given to her for a hefty price. Her word shouldn’t be trusted easily. So why did he still want to? Why did the idea of speaking to her excite him? Why was he hoping she’d say yes?

“I don’t need anyone’s permission to give you my number, Sakura,” he said to her. “So? Is that a yes?”

She couldn’t lie to herself, she wanted to give it to him as soon as the question left his lips. However, she hesitated, and for good reason. It was easy to admire someone like him from afar, when she had already drilled into her head that anything more than a fan-idol encounter was impossible. But then she met him. And he was exactly as everyone had imagined him to be. And that made it so much harder for her to set the rules that she had in her mind. Because now he wasn’t just some guy on a screen. He was as human and she was. He was real. And that made their encounter so much more dangerous.

But, maybe. If she stayed within the lines and followed the rules, then maybe.

Don’t think.

Thinking is bad. Thinking leads to imagining and imagining leads to expectations. Expectations that would no doubt hurt her when their encounters suddenly ceased. Only a fool would be burnt by the very fire that they created and fueled. And Sakura was no fool.

Don’t feel.

Any emotions she may have felt for him before they met had to be nullified. Those feelings were for the image of him that he put out to the world, the one that everyone knew. He may not be real, but he may be the very person before her. So, she was to treat it as a normal encounter. A normal person. A stranger.

Don’t let him in.

She couldn’t allow herself to get in too deep, to act as if he would be there forever when there would always be a hovering possibility of him being ripped out of her life, or her out of his. Not that the latter would be an issue for him. Chan wasn’t someone she could use to dump all of her issues onto in search for comfort, she knew that. She wouldn’t do that to him. No one deserved the extra weight of her baggage. So, she would draw a line, one that she would never be able to cross if she were to say yes to him.

“Sakura?” he asked again, worry in his voice.

“Unlike some people,” she finally responded. “I do try to get in a good few hours of sleep when I’m not working.” Her hand retrieved her phone from her pocket and pressed it into his open palm, before opening her own. Quickly, he placed his own into her hand, the number pad already on the screen. “Try not to spam me with messages outside of business hours.”

Chan chuckled, mumbling that he would try not to call her too often, as he punched in his number, with her doing the same. When they were both done, they exchanged phones once more.

“You don’t mind if I make a habit of coming out here at night, do you?”

“Not at all,” she said with a genuine smile, one she could not suppress. “I think you may need the quiet more than I do.”

He smiled back.

“I’ll see you around, Sakura.”

“Goodnight, Chan.”

[milfgyuu]

Heart & Seoul | Ch. 14 [M] END

❥ Pairing(s): Jeon Wonwoo x Fem!Reader

❥ Series Tags: Series, Exes to Lovers!AU, Fluff, Mild Angst, Mutual Pining, Humor, Romance, Smut.

❥ Chapter Warnings: [8.5k words] Explicit Sexual Content 18+, smut scenes are short and not super detailed, oral (f) implied, unprotected sex (mxf) implied, language, medical things, lots of tooth rotting sweetness, that should cover it!

❥ Check out the Series Master List here! ~ banners made by @beaniegyu

❥ Summary: Your first love hit hard & fast but it was all swept away in the blink of an eye when your boyfriend is sent away to a Korean University after your high school graduation. Seven years later, work lands you in the heart of Seoul and never in your wildest dreams did you imagine running into the one person who’d left with your heart years ago.

The nurse politely clears her throat to get your attention and smiles at the two of you. “Your test results should be ready so I’ll grab the doctor and we’ll be right in with you, okay?”

You both nod politely though Wonwoo still hasn’t a clue what’s going on and she sees herself out, closing the door behind her with a soft click. “What’s going on, babe? Is there something wrong? I can call Cheol and-”

“Cheol,” you swallow unevenly, “Cheol referred me here. When I was in the hospital, my lab results had shown some elevations that indicate that I could-”

There is a knock on the door and your heart stops. 

Moment of truth.

Wonwoo could count all the times his heart had stopped beating on one hand. 

Once when you’d first kissed under the bleachers outside the school. Another when you told him you loved him for the first time. The day he ran into you outside the coffee shop. When you were laying in the hospital and he thought he lost you for good. 

And, finally, the moment the doctor explained why you where there. 

Each time he was met with a different feeling. The first time it was shock and awe that the two of you could be so bold; two kids who hardly knew one another but saw something within that no one else had bothered to notice. Twin flames who sparked recognition in each other’s eyes and comfort in vulnerable, shaking hands.

 When you confessed he was overwhelmed with joy. The skin of his cheeks pinched, stinging with how insistent his smile had been the moment your words hit home.

The universe bringing you back together left him with hope blossoming in his chest; like a hardy flower coiled tightly, protected within the cage of his heart against a long, cold winter had finally felt the sun upon it’s petals again and begin to open back up, ready to show the world all it’s glory once more.

Watching you lay broken and motionless in the hospital had devastated him. He’d run through every second of your lives together; every touch, every kiss, every petty argument and the love and laughter that had followed. He begged for your return, for you to open your eyes and tell him it’s all okay so you could have a million more little moments to remember together.

Finding out that you were here because there was a possibility your health was in jeopardy made his legs weak, his feet numb. 

Not now…not when you still had so much to look forward to. 

“...now if you look at your values here,” the doctor points to numbers on her computer screen, “...and you compare them with today’s values,” she shifts her finger over toward a different number, “...you’ll see that there is a significant difference in the two and that is exactly what we were hoping for. Seungcheol was absolutely validated in his concern because the numbers on his work-up’s are far out of range for a woman your age but those can be heavily influenced when you’re dealing with a trauma case.”

“So,” your voice is so quiet, merely more than a whisper of hope, “Does this mean I’m…okay?”

“A little more than just ‘OK’,” she grins as she makes a note in your record, “I’d like to repeat lab work in three months but I’m very happy with these results.”

You can feel Wonwoo’s posture slump at your side as you let out a long breath that feels like it’s been waiting to be released for weeks. He must be so angry with you for withholding something this important when you’d not long ago made him promise to never do the same to you again. It makes you feel too ashamed to meet his eyes. 

He doesn’t allow the silence to hold though and when he speaks, his deep voice is soothing. There isn’t an ounce of betrayal or anger or disappointment. 

He sounds relieved and you realize how dreadful the last hour or so must have been for him; getting an urgent call, being rushed to a medical facility, having no clue if you were okay or not. 

“I’m so sorry,” falls from his lips first, fingers curling around your cold hand. “All this time you’ve been dealing with this on your own - I didn’t know…why-,” his brows furrow in that familiar way they always do when he’s thinking before he focuses on your face again, “-why wouldn’t Cheol tell me that something might be wrong?”

Biting your lips, you squeeze his hand. “I asked him not to,” you admit with a guilty whisper, “I didn’t want you to worry anymore than you already were and it wasn’t even a sure thing to begin with…I should have just told you instead of all…this.”

Wonwoo kisses your knuckles, your hand cupped carefully between his. “As long as everything is okay,” he reassures you, “That’s all that matters.”

You wish for nothing more than to cage yourself in his arms and allow his simple presence to soothe the ache in your chest but there is a knock at the door and the doctor cracks it open and a nurse speaks quietly with her for a moment before disappearing. 

“Apologies for the interruption,” she turns and smiles kindly, “I’ll be just a moment if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” you and Wonwoo both speak at the same time and you dip your head politely, “Take your time.”

Her nose scrunches in a personable sort of a fashion and she slips out the door with your chart in hand. The soft click of the door shutting releases another bout of tension in your shoulders. Wonwoo comes around to stand in front of you and he cups both cheeks, eyes darting over every inch of your face. 

“I know I’m being a bit of a hypocrite here but promise me,” he stresses the word, pleading with you to not argue, “Promise me you’ll lean on me for things like this.”

You pucker your lips and he sighs, leaning down to kiss you. “I promise.”

He finally smiles and it’s instantly contagious. He chuckles at the little wink you throw in. “For better or for worse…right?”

Your heartbeat stumbles in your chest. “We haven’t made those sort of vows yet.”

He purses his lips. “I think we should.”

Oh.

Another knock at the door shelves that conversation and the doctor pops back in just as Wonwoo’s phone buzzes for the umpteenth time and he quickly tugs it out with an apology. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he glances over the long list of messages and missed calls, “Big family…lots of worriers.”

You run a hand over his arm with a small smile, “I know you had to run out of the office. Why don’t you head back and we’ll catch up over dinner when you get home?”

He seems hesitant to leave and when he looks up the doctor just smiles.

“Honey, it’s okay,” you reassure him once again with a soft smile. “Mingyu can drive me home when I’m done. Let everyone know I’m fine, okay?”

Another moment of hesitance and then his phone buzzes, yet again, and he sighs. “I am so close to tossing this thing in the river,” he jokes, rolling his eyes in exasperation before turning to the doctor, “Thank you so much for everything and apologies again for my arrival…and my exit.”

She chuckles heartily, your chart clutched against her chest as she bows her head. “No need to apologize,” she says, and then nods in your direction, “It’s lovely to see all the love and support you have here.”

Wonwoo shoots you a wink on his way out and you can’t help thinking about that comment he made only a few minutes before. Talking about vows and such - as if your heart hadn’t been working in overtime already.

You’ll attempt to get something out of him soon but for now - you’ve got far too much on your plate to worry about nuptials anyhow.

Planning, packing, moving - it’s constant and time seems to move in hyper-speed as of late. The best you can do is hang on tight and take life as it comes at you.

It’s no surprise that the next two weeks pass by faster than the blink of an eye. 

You start each day by coaxing Wonwoo out of bed with bribery in the form of sweet kisses and then trying not to trip over Gureum as you’re walking around the house to prepare for the day, talking and purring as he weaves through your moving legs. There had been so much to do that it filled each and every hour of the day until you were nearly crashing into bed come nightfall.

As a result, time slipped by seemingly unannounced because you can hardly believe that you’re already bouncing anxiously in an airport terminal waiting for Sam and JJ’s flight to land. Wonwoo’s hand falls softly to your thigh to still your constant motion but you only stop for a moment before the bouncing picks up again.

“You’re going to bounce right off the bench,” he snickers quietly. 

Trying your best to relax, you stretch your limbs and settle deeper into the padded airport seating. “I just can’t believe she’s finally going to be here. It feels like a dream.”

Wonwoo smirks. “Your brother is coming too you know…”

You flop your hand dismissively. Of course you’re happy JJ is here but Sam is the other half of your whole. She’s also the one person in the world who can take your crazy busy life and break it down into sections, organize it, color code it, and declutter your mind. You had happily handed over the reigns for your big move when she’d offered. 

When the plane’s arrival is announced you jump up from your seat as if she’d just magically pop out of the boarding gate right away. Wonwoo’s hand is steady on the back of your thigh as he sits a bit longer, using your distraction to quickly check his messages, firing off a few quick responses before pocketing it and standing at your side. His hand automatically finds a home against your back and he smiles when you sink into his touch. 

He simply watches you for a few minutes, eyes glued to your side profile as your own search the first few passengers that begin to filter out. His heart aches with how full it feels just seeing you this happy and he hopes to capture many more moments like this in the coming days. 

“Can you see them?” you stand on your toes as the crowd of passengers and the loved ones receiving them begin to crowd the terminal. 

Wonwoo cranes his neck and catches a glimpse of your brother’s hair but before he has a chance to mention it you’re tearing away from him at record speed. He almost has a hard time following your trail but he can hear you. 

...And Sam still gives the best hugs. 

The kind that wrap you in warmth and affection even if you are struggling a bit for air and you feel your back and shoulder crack in two different places it doesn’t matter because your best friend is actually here. The two of you are quietly gossiping and giggling as Wonwoo and your brother share a very casual hug and look of amusement at the two of you practically melting together. 

Sam pulls back and cups your cheeks like an old grandma, squishing them together with an adoring pout. “Your face,” she coos, “It’s real and not inside my phone screen!”

“I know!” you reach up and pinch her cheek too, “Look at your face! You look amazing!”

“Shut up! No, look at you,” she steps back far enough to look you up and down, “You’re glowing! I told you this was the best decision you’ve ever made and it shows. Your cheeks are full, your hair is shining, skin so clear you should be in magazines - tell me, who was right? Let me hear it.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “You were right,” you look over at Wonwoo softly, “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

Sam catches the motion and winks at Wonwoo. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh my god! Wait,” you reach for her arm, ”Let me see it! Let me see it!”

Sam giggles and sticks out her left hand, wiggling her fingers to show off her gorgeous engagement ring. You fall into whispers about the ring and the proposal and wedding talk and then there is a loud, obvious, cough to your left.

“I am also here…in case you forgot.” You look over at your brother in surprise, as if you’re honestly just remembering he’s there. 

You grin and slink over to wrap your arms around him, swaying him side to side and chuckling over his feigned disinterest. “Not my fault you decided to fall in love and marry my best friend,” you sing before he wiggles out of your grip, “You will always be second place.”

At first, you’re too busy bickering and taunting your brother to notice Wonwoo and Sam speaking very, very quietly a few feet away but ever aware, Sam catches you approaching and wraps her arm around your own as if nothing happened.

“Why don’t you show us that fancy new house I get to decorate?”

She pulls you along toward baggage claim and you snort at her desire to jump right into the hard work. Well hard work in your opinion. It’s like Christmas to Sam. 

“You literally just landed and we’re moving in two days - don’t you want to just relax? Aren’t you supposed to be…engagement…honeymooning?”

Sam shakes her head. “Oh, no, I want to see what I’m working with in person so I can make alterations to the furniture Hannie and I ordered in case they’re not going to work.”

“Should have known you and Jeonghan would get along famously.”

“He’s a freaking gem,” she exclaims in a hushed voice, “Wonwoo better watch out before I steal his handler and take him back to the states in my carry on.”

Wonwoo’s voice rumbles from behind you where he’s walking and chatting with your brother. “Keep your mits off my man, Samantha.”

“Fine, fine,” she waves her hand over her shoulder, “Your girl is mine though…” she teases, tugging you closer, “Even when you put a ring on it.”

Wonwoo almost trips over his own foot but he manages to catch himself and not sweat through his clothes because yeah, he get’s sweaty when he’s nervous, ok? 

Thankfully, Sam and JJ will be keeping you occupied well enough for him to finish finalizing surprise party plans without you catching on. 

He survives the next forty-eight hours which he had thought might never end with the constant driving around, phone calls from work, texts from vendors and almost everyone else he knows pinging his phone at all hours, and the wretched quality of sleep he’s been getting. He’s exhausted but he reminds himself of the payoff and tries not to grumble too much when you try to wake him this morning.

Unfortunately, moving day begins with a headache in his temples and ice-cold monster in his hand despite your best efforts to gently rouse him. 

Thankfully, the weather isn’t too warm nor too cold, a light breeze pushing through the trees around your new home to cool the sweat from hauling boxes and furniture inside. He could easily afford to have the entire process handled by the moving company but you and Sam both insisted it was better to be a part of the process and so, here he is. 

Part of the process.

He’s a little envious of Gureum who’s cooped up in your former, and Chan’s current, apartment - lazing about, waiting for the hard work to be completed.

Thankfully, the movers cared for the brunt of the work with Mingyu sneaking in alongside them to help, as if they weren’t a professional moving company, but of course Mingyu makes friends everywhere he goes and they don’t seem to mind the extra muscle. You’re sure he’s invited them all to his restaurant for a meal. 

Jeonghan and Sam are a formidable team, as expected, and make sure everything gets put in the right place - even if that means they need to be moved around a time or two until it’s perfect. They’re almost a bit scary when they’re in the zone of organizing and directing so you mostly stay out of the way, especially when they make Mingyu and Wonwoo shift the dining room furniture twice after the movers left. 

Chan lucked out for the simple fact that you banned him from carrying anything and your brother lucked out when Sam sent the two of them on some errands. They disappeared pretty quickly after that and hadn’t returned since. You were sure they were taking their sweet time and would probably blame their pace on Chan’s foot.

Wonwoo slinks away the moment the design team seems satisfied with the table placement and start talking about linens, Sam’s favorite, and he looks through the still unfamiliar halls, searching for your comfort. You’re not in the bedroom, nor the office, so he wanders back out into the living area and your soft laughter floats out from the kitchen. 

He stops when he sees you and leans in the doorway, choosing to observe for a moment without interrupting. You’ve got Yeojin on the kitchen counter, one arm wrapped around her little legs as you stand behind her and let her help put the dishes away in the cabinet. She can only hold one thing at a time with her small hands but you’re so incredibly patient, smiling as you watch her concentrate on aligning the glasses to perfection.

When Mingyu asked if it would be okay to bring Yeojin he’d hardly squeezed the question out before you told him to stop asking and to just start bringing her along. You loved having the little girl around and Wonwoo…he was quite fond as well. Especially when he watches you together.

He waits a few more minutes before intruding. 

“You girls look awfully busy,” Wonwoo murmurs gently, a wry smile on his face when you turn to him in surprise. 

Yeojin grins delightedly as Wonwoo walks over, wrapping an arm around you from behind and stretching one finger out to poke the little girl’s side, eliciting a trilling giggle. “Auntie Daisy said I could help.”

A little puff of amusement escapes from your nose at the nickname. 

“You’re doing a wonderful job,” Wonwoo compliments her, passing another plate into her tiny hands. He makes sure she’s got a good grip on it before he let’s go and you both watch her very carefully place it upon the stack she’s already created. 

When she’s done, he hands her another.

It’s almost like a borrowed moment in time and he wishes for more and more of them as the days go by. He wishes for a little girl with round cheeks and too-mature vocabulary that he didn’t have to say goodbye to at the end of the day. One with your eyes and his smile. It didn’t even have to be a girl. It could be -

Wonwoo’s thoughts are swiftly interrupted by a saccharine voice that haunts him day and night. Jeonghan smirks, peering over Wonwoo’s shoulder. “What a pretty picture,” he whispers just loud enough for you both to hear before turning his attention upwards, “Jinnie! What a beautiful job you’ve done! I’ve never seen such nicely organized cabinets.”

Yeojin beams down at him and doesn’t hesitate to leap into Jeonghan’s outstretched arms, though the dare devil action makes the breath catch in both yours and Wonwoo’s throat. Jeonghan ignores your disapproving glares and bounces with glee. “Let’s leave the rest of this to the adults, hm? I have a much more important task for you.”

Yeojin’s eyes widen and the frowns melt right off your faces at the sight of her excitement. “I want to help!” 

Jeonghan makes a goofy face like he’s silently cheering and lifts her little arm. “To the back yard!” he shouts and then takes off with Yeojin bouncing and giggling all the way.

You laugh quietly, the sound echoing in the grand, empty room. You drop your head against Wonwoo’s shoulder and his hands slide across your stomach, his thumb rubbing right above your navel. He kisses the side of your face and you smile, humming contentedly. 

“Happy?”

His question is simple. It holds no teasing nor flirtation. He’s genuinely curious. 

He allows you the space to turn in his arms until you're able to face him and bring your arms around his shoulders. He presses you into the counter and looks into your eyes. 

“Happy,” you respond, your breath tickling his lips. “I’m...elated, grateful, exhausted,” you share a laugh, the sound intermingling, “I love our home…and our family,” he understands whom you’re referring to and you kiss him softly before meeting his eyes again, “I love you and honestly…” you glance around the room, “I love this fucking kitchen.”

Wonwoo laughs but he easily receives you when you lean into him and capture his lips. He wastes no time in licking along the seam of yours and bringing his hand up to cup the side of your neck, his thumb tipping your jaw upwards. The granite counter digs into your back, even as Wonwoo tries to lessen the pressure by securing his arm around you. 

“If we were alone,” he says against your lips, “I’d give you reasons to love it even more.”

You giggle in delight - making out with Wonwoo in your new home, all sorts of wicked promises being whispered in your ear, between your lips, and against your throat is something you’d dreamed about once or twice.   

Mingyu walks in only a minute later and stumbles backwards at the sight of you tangled up in one another. “Oh shit! My bad!” he spins around to leave but then turns back, “Wait…where’s Jinnie?”

You cover your mouth, embarrassed at having been caught. “Sorry,” you laugh, “We’re done. Promise.”

“Says you,” Wonwoo mumbles before smirking at his friend. “I don’t give a shit if he stays.”

Mingyu tuts in disapproval. “I’m a chef - fucking in the kitchen is against the rules.”

Wonwoo narrows his eyes with a retort, “You’re full of shi-”

You transfer your hand to his mouth and stop him. “Yeojin was kidnapped by Jeonghan for who knows what,” you redirect back to Mingyu’s original question, smiling at the way his hair is sticking up, slick with sweat. “Damn. Sam’s putting you guys to work, huh?”

Wonwoo snorts, dropping his hand to rest on your hip. Slightly more appropriate than before.

“She’s bossier than Seungkwan and Jeonghan put together,” Mingyu rests against the arched entry and then nearly shrieks when Samantha ducks under his arm, swatting him right in the stomach.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she scoffs, swiftly moving past him into the open kitchen, “The view from here is amazing,” she leans against the double sink and peers out the windows and into the backyard where Jeonghan is animatedly waving his hands around in front of Yeojin. “You can watch the kids from here - kind of like your mom did when we were growing up.”

“Remember your eighth birthday,” she reminisces to the pretty glass window, “We spied through the kitchen windows and waited until your mom left to run in and steal a piece of ca-”

Your sniffle makes Sam slowly spin toward you. Wonwoo glances at you curiously, Mingyu straightens in the doorway because…you’re…crying?

“What’s wrong?”

Wonwoo hugs you a little closer and you look at the three of them in confusion before realizing your face is wet. You hastily wipe your cheeks, laughing it off. 

“Don’t mind me,” you chuckle wistfully, “I just…get a little homesick sometimes. I love my life here, obviously, I just miss our big family. I miss you guys and being able to hang out whenever we want. It’s hard being so far away.”

“Oh, honey,” Sam pouts, walking toward you with open arms. 

You tuck your chin over her shoulder and hug her back as she swings you side to side. It’s true - you’ve been missing your family a lot lately. Growing up you we’re used to being surrounded by your siblings and watching your parents work together to try and make sure everyone was fed, bathed, clothed, loved. There were times you felt lost in such a busy household but you miss it - especially when you’re with your Seoul family.

And maybe a tiny part of you pictured kids playing in the backyard while you made their birthday cake. You mentally note to video chat with your mom, again. You’d be on with her every few nights before Sam and JJ arrived and you were already missing her.

The sweet moment is interrupted when Mingyu joins your hug, squeezing the two of you in his long, bulky, and disturbingly sweaty arms. You and Sam whine in protest and he squeezes harder. “The atmosphere went from horny, to sad, to sentimental so fast in here but man I love you guys!”

“Mingyu!” you grunt, “My face is in your armpit!”

“Did you say horny?!” Sam gags at the feeling of his sticky skin. “Oh my god! Gross! Let go!”

Mingyu doesn’t elaborate. He grins and reaches for Wonwoo but Sam uses the opportunity to slip free which gives Wonwoo the chance to reach back toward Mingyu and pinche his nipple until he let’s you go. You’re snickering at the way Mingyu screeches and he’s about to say something largely inappropriate but a tiny giggle in the doorway makes him stop in his tracks. 

Jeonghan, Seungkwan, and Yeojin look up at him from the entry, the adults waiting with a raised brow for him to continue whilst the littlest one in the middle anticipates an opportunity to collect more coins for her swear jar. Mingyu settles back against the counter and grumbles instead, rubbing his chest with a glare in Wonwoo’s direction. 

If Yeojin could read lips, he’d still owe her. 

Miraculously, JJ and Chan make it back just in time to dig into the to-go bags Seungkwan had come to deliver before running back to the restaurant. Sam shooed the two of them away until the people who had actually done the hard work made their plates - which meant Yeojin was served first - before they were allowed to join in.

A bit worn down, you sit back in your chair at the dining table, quietly smiling to yourself when Wonwoo takes your hand, pulling it to his lips. Meeting his gaze, he winks and you mouth back ‘I love you’. Everyone else notices but they don’t say a word, content to let the two of you share the moment in peace.

“So, Miss Daisy,” Jeonghan grins from across the table, “Your birthday is next weekend. Any big plans?”

Your lips close around your spoon the same time your eyes pop open in surprise. You hadn’t actually thought about it. Everything had been such a whirlwind of change lately that you forgot your own birthday.

Sam reads you so quickly. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“Honestly, it’s been so busy that I don’t know if I’m coming or going anymore.”

Yeojin quirks her head to the side. “Why don’t you know where you’re going?”

The adults giggle and Mingyu pats her hand explaining it’s just an expression. She still seems a little concerned but continues eating and Wonwoo wipes his mouth. “I actually booked appointments for you and Sam at the spa on your birthday and I thought we could have dinner at the house together that night.”

You’re glad he didn’t suggest going out for dinner, drinks, and karaoke. Going to the spa with your best friend and having a quiet dinner with your friends is exactly the way you’d like to spend your day. You smile at him. “You read my mind, baby.”

Yeojin makes another face. “He’s a grown up,” she points out, “Auntie, did you bump your head?”

JJ snorts loudly which causes Chan to cackle, then Jeonghan nearly chokes on his mouthful, and sweet Yeojin just sits there not understanding why all the grown ups laugh until they’re falling over like she said a really funny joke and their belly hurts from laughing so hard.

Yeojin just smiles to herself. Adults are so silly sometimes.

Your birthday starts off with a bang, literally, because when you wake up with Wonwoo’s head between your thighs, dragging an orgasm from your body before you’ve even opened your eyes, there is nothing stopping you from putting your lover on his back and riding him until the sun sits high in the morning sky. 

It’s a memory you both carry throughout the morning - even as you sit across the table from each other in a fancy breakfast spot. Being in public is probably a good thing because had you been alone at home he would have had you right on the kitchen counter as promised but as it stands, you have guests and he also needs to keep you out of the house for a few hours. So, he sits patiently, settling for sending you heated gazes over your breakfast plates and taking long, calming sips of his hot coffee. 

When he delivers you to the front doors of the day spa, Sam is already waiting for you so you can’t exactly tell Wonwoo to take you home instead. Once everyone is back home and you have another quiet weekend to yourselves you’ll talk him into staying in bed with you all day. For now, you kiss him goodbye - one, two, or three times too many until he’s grinning and gently pushing you into Sam’s awaiting grasp. 

He’ll get his hands on you later. For now - there is a ton of work to do.

Speaking of hands on you…

By the time you’re leaving the spa you feel like a buttered up cup of jello, for lack of better words. After facials, massages, manicures, pedicures, the works, your limbs are loose, your back and shoulders are tender but knot free, and your skin is smooth and moisturized. You expect to go right home but instead Hansol shows up to chauffeur you to another location. 

Sam’s gift apparently. 

Hansol drops you off at a nearby salon where you both spend another hour or so getting your hair and makeup done which is as wonderful as it is suspicious because why all the extra effort for a small dinner in the comfort of your own home? Sam evades all your poking questions and tells you to sit back and relax - enjoy your day.

Instead of Hansol, this time it’s Jeonghan who picks you up. His sporty silver BMW greeting you right at the front door where he rolls down the window and lowers his sunglasses, “Hop in ladies, we’ve got an appointment to make by four-thirty.”

You look at the time on your cell phone. “Han, that’s in fifteen minutes.”

“And it’s twenty minutes away,” he revs his engine and smirks, “So, get your gorgeous behinds in the car so we’re not late.”

Jeonghan’s gift, other than his pretty face, was shopping but not your average trip to the mall. Oh, no. In Jeonghan’s world apparently you’re greeted at the front door by name and there’s a private fitting room with a rack of clothing personally hand-picked and waiting for your approval. 

He hadn’t stuck around to find out what you chose - not that it mattered since he’d already arranged to have everything sent to the house after your fitting anyway. Jeonghan was confident that every piece he selected was something you’d choose for yourself. You know, if you didn’t have a budget to take into account. 

Jeonghan is not bound by such limitations. 

The clothing he chose was gorgeous and again…suspiciously too fancy for this small gathering that supposed to take place this evening but perhaps Wonwoo changed his mind about dinner at the house and made reservations somewhere else.

Sam doesn’t seem to know the answer to that when she shrugs and points to an outfit she’d already pre-approved for herself hanging over another dressing room door. She claims to have been given minimal information which again, triggers a little alarm in the back of your head. 

Sam isn’t a ‘minimal information’ kind of girl. 

However, when you squint at her, she squints back which is an indication that even if she knows, she’s not telling. 

You’re four dresses in when your next chauffeur arrives. 

Like something straight out of a k-drama, Mingyu walks into the store and is immediately flocked by woman offering their assistance, their phone numbers, their dignity. 

He shoots them all a million dollar smile and assures them he’s all taken care of before making a beeline for you at the back of the store. Those long, model-esque legs carrying him easily through the crowd of employees and gawking women who’ve abandoned their purchases to catch a glimpse. 

He’s in crisp, fitted grey slacks and an equally tight pressed button down - half the buttons hanging open - and he sends you a wolfish grin that makes you wonder how on earth the idiot is still single. He’s goofball but a very handsome one. “Ladies.”

Sam chuckles at the stupid spin he does to show off his outfit. “Oh, he cleans up! I thought you were just a sweaty meathead who likes to cook. Must say I’m impressed.”

“I am a sweaty meathead who likes to cook but I also know how to follow dress code.”

You snort at their exchange. “And pray-tell,” you peer back at your side profile - still unsure which outfit to choose, “What exactly is the dress code?”

Mingyu gestures to his clothes again like that’s all you need to know.

“Sexy,” he actually explains aloud, “Obviously.” 

He tilts his head in consideration when you show him the dress you currently have on. It’s pretty but you’re not sold on the color, especially when you behold Mingyu and again consider the dress Sam has set aside - it doesn’t seem to be a match. He’s quirking a brow at you in question. “Help yourself,” you chuckle.

If he wants to play dress up, you’re more than willing to let him. 

When his hand lands on the hanger of the champagne colored silk dress, Sam lights up and you realize that even if she had told you a hundred times over the choice was yours, she’d definitely had a favorite in mind. She takes the hanger from Mingyu and runs her fingers along the fabric with a smile. “You’re going to look fricking amazing in this dress,” she grins as she hands it over to you, “Wonwoo isn’t going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.”

You snort, closing the door to change outfits. “Why exactly are we dressing so nicely again?”

Mingyu plops down in a chair, crossing one leg over his knee. “It’s a special occasion,” he answers, seemingly distracted, probably on his phone you think.

“It’s just my birthday.” Even as you say it, the silk glides over your skin and you glance in the mirror, gawking at your own reflection. You feel every bit as stunning as you look. 

“Maybe we just want to celebrate all the wonderful things that have happened since your last birthday,” Sam hollers back from her own dressing room, “Maybe you should just get dressed and hush, birthday girl!”

Mingyu huffs out a laugh at the quiet grumbling coming from behind your door and then you emerge and he blinks one too many times. “Damn,” he coughs, “That looks even better than I thought.”

You roll your eyes though you’re beaming inside because you look and feel really good. 

Sam comes out a moment later and she whistles at you, as if she doesn’t look like a whole smoke show herself. “Um, this dress was made for you,” she circles you, adjusting material at the top with her prettily manicured fingers. “You fill this out like a Greek goddess.”

“Please,” you groan, “Are you saying i’m ancient?”

Mingyu kisses his teeth and offers a half-smirk. “She’s saying you belong in a gallery.”

“I’m saying what ever you’re doing - keep doing it. You look incredible.”

You don’t have a response for that but it’s not necessary because Mingyu is standing and extending an arm out to each of you. “As much as I’d love to sit here and admire the view a bit longer, we’re expected at our final location soon.”

“And that location is?” you attempt, hands around his arm as you bat your lashes up at him.

He winks right back and Sam snorts. “Nice try.”

After all the secrets and surprises and one noticeable loop around the block, you’re confused when you pull up in front of your home, as planned. It’s quiet and nothing is out of the ordinary when you walk up to the front door with Mingyu and Sam a step behind and nothing jumps out when you push through the door and into the entry hall. 

You spin halfway to ask what’s going on when a tiny familiar voice comes hauling through the house toward you. You turn around just in time to catch Yeojin as she throws herself into your arms to give you a hug. “Happy birthday Auntie!”

You squeeze her tight and pull back to look at her. “Oh, Jinnie! You’re dress is so pretty!”

“Thank you,” she smiles bashfully, “Mommy bought it for me!”

Mingyu clears his throat. “Don’t you have something to show Auntie Daisy?”

Boy does she. 

Her little eyes light up with anticipation and she grabs your hand, pulling you through your quiet house until a light flicks on in your living room and it erupts with noise and excitement. Yeojin drops your hand and runs to her parents who are there along with all your other friends; Hoshi, Jun, Seungkwan, Hansol, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Yeri. 

Your parents. Your siblings. Your nieces and nephews. 

Your mom pushes toward you the second you lock eyes and your arms come around her so quickly and so tightly a choked laugh spills from your lips. Your dad wraps his arms around both of you and it goes on like this for several minutes - hugging and laughing and crying because your family is here and you’ve missed them so much your chest feels like it could burst any moment. 

Wonwoo sits back and watches you - patient as ever as you greet your family and friends. The light in your eyes is dazzling and watching you whirl around the room in disbelief is something he’s been dreaming about ever since he’d began planning for this. All the time and effort that went into getting everyone together like this was worth it just to see that look in your eyes. 

You can hardly believe what you’re experiencing in the moment - that your family is actually here and you’re able to hug them and hold them. Your older and younger sisters take turns fawning over you. You’re able to pinch your big brother’s cheek and wrap your arms around his children. What it must have taken to get everyone here together for this moment…

You look around the room and find Wonwoo hanging back with Chan. His eyes are already on you as if he’s been waiting for you to greet everyone else before interrupting but the moment he smiles at you, you’re moving across the room. 

“Happy birthday,” he grins, hands pulling from his pockets slowly. 

You don’t wait for him to reach out to you before your grabbing his face and kissing him. 

The attention garnered doesn’t derail him from kissing you back, nor does it keep him from dipping you backwards to make a show of it. He grins against your lips at the whooping and hollering. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

Wonwoo’s hand glides over the silk material at your back. “You’ve given me everything,” he says quietly, “This is the least I could do. Also had some help.”

He smirks and you meet Sam, Mingyu, and Jeonghan’s eyes. 

It feels so incredibly warm and frankly overwhelming to be so…loved. 

All throughout the night, you bounce from family to friend happily catching up, laughing, talking, eating. Even more so, you love watching your two worlds come together. 

Mingyu spends most his time proudly explaining his dishes to your father and brother. Yeri, Sam, Jeonghan and his handsome friend Joshua all connect over the home decor and some design theory you’re all too happy to let them dish about without you. Seungkwan argues with Soonyoung about something that happened in their youth while Jun and Hansol happily monitor just in case the conversation gets too heated. 

Little groups intermingle and get to know each other - even through language barriers - and all the children play together, their giggles echoing through the halls.

In the midst of conversation with your mother and Mingyu’s sister about the school, the distinct sound of silverware clinking against glass quiets everyone and turns the attention to Samantha near the kitchen. 

“Thank you so much for being here tonight to celebrate with us,” she smiles and you can hear whispered translations as she pauses and looks toward you and Wonwoo, “And special thank you to the man who brought us all together. Wonwoo, I think the floor is yours, if you’re ready.”

Everyone is clapping and cheering and you’re not sure why it sounds like they’re gearing for a big emotional speech when your man is one of very few words but Wonwoo turns toward you with an incredibly soft smile. 

“You know I’m not particularly great at this sort of thing,” he chuckles nervously.

Chan raises his glass. “We believe in you, brother!”

Another round of whooping shakes the edge off Wonwoo’s nerves and he laughs it off. 

“Thank you for that,” he huffs out bemusedly before focusing on you again. “Obviously, I wanted to bring everyone together for your birthday, but I was also hoping to use this opportunity…” he reaches into his pocket and procures a black velvet box, “...to ask you something.��

Tears immediately well in your eyes and you meet Sam’s gaze over his shoulder. She’s smiling back at you, tears streaming down her cheeks, clinging to your brother.

Wonwoo opens the box to reveal a stunning ring, it’s heavy oval shaped stone shining up at you. His hands tremble and he takes a deep breath only finding the courage he needed when you meet his eyes - all the love in the universe staring back at him and he moves his lips, praying the words will come out. 

“I’ve practiced this so many times I was sure I could get through it without messing up but proposing to Mingyu in the gym, or Jeonghan in the office, or Hoshi in the lair is way different than proposing to you right now,” he says and there are watery laughs, “You’re so much prettier.”

Another laugh escapes you, tears rolling down your cheeks. “What the hell is the lair?”

Wonwoo huffs out a short laugh. Of course you’d snag on that detail. “I’ll explain later.”

“Anyways - whatever I practiced is useless because I’m still that socially inept kid who fell in love with you in high school and I can’t form a single coherent thought when you look at me like that.”

Your lip quivers. “Like what?”

“Like I’m really worth something,” he answers softly and then he lowers himself down to one knee and looks up at you with such reverent affection and you brace yourself as he says your name. “I love you in ways I’ll never be able to fully express in words but I’ll spend every day for the rest of our lives showing you, if you’ll let me.”

Your heart swells and your legs feel weak and then he says it. 

“Will you marry me?”

You’re not sure if he fully finishes the question before you answer and then he’s on his feet, holding you and kissing you as everyone celebrates. The rush of emotion when he slips that ring onto your finger hits you square in the chest and you fall against him, face buried in the crook of his neck with your arms wound tightly around his neck. 

Your lover, your person, your soulmate, your future husband. 

The reality of all the hardships you’ve faced to come together again fall from your shoulders. The crushing weight of years lost just evaporate because you’re here now and that’s all that matters. His hand rubs up and down your back, his lips pressing into your hair over and over again as the people who love and care for you both share congratulatory hugs and heartfelt sentiments. 

You only part from your fiance when you hear your mother’s voice. She kisses Wonwoo’s cheek and you bring her into another crushing hug - incredibly grateful to have your family here more now than ever and suddenly, the thought strikes you that this sort of opportunity is going to be few and far in between.

You meet Mingyu’s eyes from across the room and his widen - making sure you’re absolutely certain of what you’re asking from him. Nodding, he slinks off just as you clear your throat, catching everyone’s attention. 

“Please pretend my makeup isn’t ruined,” you chuckle wiping under your eyes, “I really can’t believe any of this is happening but I am so happy you all are here and Wonwoo,” you hold your hand out to him and he takes it, squeezing your fingers, “I…I can’t even begin to say how grateful I am to have you and to share a life together with someone so kind and genuine…gentle and patient.”

You choke on the last few words, and Mingyu reappears at your side with two boxes. 

Taking one into your hands, Wonwoo looks at you curiously - as does everyone else aside from the one person you trusted to keep your secret until you were ready.

You supposed now was as good a time as any.

“I know it’s my birthday,” you smile, gesturing for Wonwoo to take the gift into his hands, “But I have a present for you too.”

Wonwoo cocks his head in confusion but you just smile, urging him to lift the lid.

Everyone watches as he gives you another curious grin but he lifts the lid and peers inside before letting it fall closed, his eyes darting up to your own. “You’re serious?”

“What is it?”

“What’s in the box?”

Everyone is murmuring questions in anticipation and Wonwoo peels back the lid completely, pulling a tiny gray singlet from it’s tissue paper nest. He holds it in his hands, marveling at how tiny and precious and - 

“YOU’RE PREGNANT?!”

Sam’s voice cuts clear across the room and Wonwoo pinches the shoulders of the onesie, showing it to everyone in the room. Sam practically weeps in JJ’s arms and your sisters nearly get bowled over by your mother. 

“I should have known when you wouldn’t touch that mimosa this morning!” Sam shouts, pointing her finger at you in accusation.

Your laughter is met with Mingyu’s reminder of the second box and you quickly grab it, offering it to Wonwoo who is still so struck with the first gift he can’t imagine what else you could possibly give him. He’s got everything he could ever need. 

“What is this?”

You beam at him, hands shaking. “It’s sort of a package deal…”

He falters, eyes growing wide. “You’re joking…”

“Is that a second box?!

“Open the box before we do!” 

“Yeah!”

Soonyoung and Jun are practically hanging off each other waiting for the reveal. 

Wonwoo removes the lid and dips his hand inside. When he pulls out a yellow singlet - identical size and pattern with the first - the excitement is near deafening and you drop the box as Wonwoo wraps his arms around you. 

“Twins?” he breathes in astonishment, “That’s what this means right?”

You nod fervently, so relieved to be able to share your secret with him at last. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out but we had so much going on and I wanted it to be special but with everyone here…I just wanted to share one more thing to be thankful for...well two things I suppose.”

Wonwoo runs his thumb over your cheek and kisses you again, soft and slow. 

The sound of overwhelming love and joy filling the room around you, and he lifts you off your feet but you already feel weightless, like you’re floating and Wonwoo is the rock that tethers you securely to the earth. 

Years and years down the road, when you’re looking back at the photos from this very night, the ones from your wedding, the birth of your twins, and so on, you’ll always remember the way you felt in the moment because with Wonwoo that feeling never wavers. The love, support, acceptance, gratitude - he makes sure you feel it every single day, just as he promised. 

Perhaps the universe was cruel - separating you when you were young and so in love but as time goes on, you learn to have a little faith in that old saying about things happening for a reason and making the heart grow fonder. 

When you take a look around at all the people you’ve grown to love and cherish along the way, you can’t find it in yourself to wish for your life to have gone any other way. 

Not when you sit back and watch your children play with Sam’s in the backyard. Or when Soonyoung and Seungkwan bicker over the logistics and rules of a card game while, as usual, Jun and Hansol tune them out to talk about something too deep to jump into mid-conversation. 

Not when you watch Mingyu’s wife shoo him away from the grill as Yeojin, tall and beautiful, teases her uncle for pouting and getting bossed around. Or Chan, who stops long enough to settle down - marrying his physical therapist after three years of travel and whirlwind romance. Certainly not when you get to watch Jeonghan finally give up and ask Joshua out - even if he still adamantly denies having a long standing crush.. 

You absolutely regret nothing when you watch your husband crawl out from beneath a happy, laughing dog-pile of children just to limp back over and offer you a tired smile and a kiss…

You know without a doubt had you the chance to do it all over again, you’d follow your heart to Seoul every single time. 

Series M.List | Main M.List

→ Please do NOT copy, repost, or translate, any of my works here on tumblr or on any other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, Bubblebeom, 2020. ©️

❥ Tag List: @beaniegyu @dinoshii @smileyjimvn @sdoulc @xavi-in-kpopland @thatbubblecat @w0nuuu @dnylwoo @sandeane @wonhaotrsh @xofanfics @bang-bang-bangtxn @httphimitsu @the1921-monsters @coppertrashi @nc-teen @rjsmochii @anothershorthuman @wonw00t @caratinylyfe @xmessaroundx @dcfiance @sea-gyu @mimaisiomai @ceebunny07 @sacredsebastian @imtotallydef @notscoupy @anythingrelatingtojinyoung @jaywhyypee @shaurenlaw @en-boyz @learnthisfeeling @muselin @travelleratheart101 @meltinghershey @so-da-1 @taestrwbrry

[peninkwrites]

A New Era - Ch 2 of 11

Bad and Ant find this all too familiar.

[CW: referenced past character death]

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 3

Mafia AU masterpost

~ Bad ~

It’s been years since Bad has stepped into that office.  It hasn’t changed.  Unless the signs of a struggle count for something, but Bad can’t actually find much sign of Skeppy having occupied the space.  The dark cherrywood panels to disguise the more brutal shell of the warehouse are still decorated by the same paintings Bad had put there years ago.  Bad would’ve expected something a bit more flashy.  A crystal sculpture, a chandelier, something.  But it seems that Skeppy had left it intact. Bad can’t help but wonder if it was in the hopes of him coming back one day.

Bad rights the fallen desk chair.  It doesn’t change the disarray caused by the blood on the floor.  “Oh, Skeppy, what have you gotten us into…” He murmurs, brushing a hand against the armrest of the worn leather desk chair, knowing less than 48 hours ago Skeppy had been here, in reach.  Maybe if he had never left, Skeppy would still be here.

Antfrost returns, hesitating in the doorway at the sight of his old friend looking so lost.

“Yes, Ant?” Bad says without looking up from the desk.

“I’ve sent out a few vines, just to scope things out.  I haven’t told anyone the details yet.  Just told them to ask around, see if anything suspicious happened around here last night,” Ant enters the room.

“Good, thank you, Ant.”

Ant is finding it hard to read Bad’s expression.  He looks tired, but not much else.  “How’re you… dealing, with everything?”  He asks carefully.

“As well as I can be,” Bad remains calm, unfeeling.  Ant knows him better.

“He’s valuable, Bad.  If they just wanted him dead, they would’ve left the body behind,” Ant knows it isn’t especially comforting, but it’s the best he can do right now.

Bad exhales something almost like a laugh.  “Right.  Skeppy sure is valuable, huh?”  This dry dulcet tone of his is familiar to Ant.  It never means anything good.  Not that Ant is concerned for himself, rather he knows Bad is already slipping in some way.

“Yeah, he is.  And it’s been less than 24 hours.  They want us to get scared before they issue demands,” Ant continues.  It’s a pathetic consolation, but again, it’s all he has to give.

Bad takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, nails digging into the leather on the armrest.  “What if– What if they–“

“What if they kill him to send a message?” Ant finishes for him, cold and sure.

Bad looks up at him, eyes wide, stricken and almost guilty even though Ant had been the one to voice the thought aloud, but they both had been thinking it.  None of this is unfamiliar to them, they had shared the same terrible thought the moment they knew Skeppy was gone, and it had remained present and haunting ever since: Velvet.

Ant continues slowly, carefully, letting the grief that had remained alive and coiled inside of his chest instead unfurl into brutal conviction.  “They haven’t sent a message yet, we can only assume they’re keeping him alive for a reason.”  His words feel hollow and useless on his tongue. Last time, they had all believed it.  They believed it for the days it took for Velvet to be returned to him.  Ant knows they’re on the clock, a timeline unknown and out of their control.  “And it doesn’t matter, because we’re going to get to him first.” Unspoken, but Ant knows that Bad understands: we’re not losing anyone else.

Bad nods once.  “Okay… okay.  We’ll get to Puffy first.  Talk to her.”

“Yeah, I've had one of ours get in touch with someone down at the docks and… we’ll see if she gets back to us,” Ant sighs.

They can plan all they want, they can be as determined as they want, but the city is still big and complicated and full of too many corners to hide in.  Even if someone had seen something, until they come forward the Badlands will remain at the mercy of others.  Until an ultimatum or discovery is made by someone else.

“Until then, Ant,” Bad sits down at his old desk.  “Tell me how things have been going without me, hm?”

“Good, actually pretty good,” Ant will indulge this distraction.  “You know how we got into the police station?  It’s because we… we had an arrangement with– you’re not gonna believe this, Ponk, who works for Schlatt.  I mean, not anymore, the arrangement was so they could stop working for Schlatt, but they were definitely living dangerously already.  Their boyfriend is the Police Captain.  So, yeah, we got you what you wanted, but we also have been hearing everything the Captain complains about,” Ant can’t hold his wry amusement.  “I think you remember the Police Captain, Bad.”

“Mhm, and how’s our old friend Sam holding up?”

“Considering how many favors it took for Ponk to buy protection for them both?  Not as well as he could be,” Ant says with false pity.  “We’ve been driving him crazy for weeks now.  Ambushing officers, changing locations when they were getting too close, figuring out our own rats, fun stuff like that.”

“Hm,” is all Bad says, but it’s clear he’s approving.  “Income?”

“The old classics, money laundering, the occasional blackmail,” Ant shrugs.  “You know, getting that close of a source to the cops was… insanely powerful.  And Skeppy gave it up.  We could’ve broken into the station, you know.  To get what you wanted.  Easily.”

“And you would’ve been caught,” Bad says.  He knows where this is going.

“Yeah.  And the last thing you want is… a certain someone knowing the Badlands are interfering with the police,” Ant continues carefully, circling the room, eyes following the blood on the floor.  “He did that for you, you know.  Skeppy did.”

Bad knows Ant isn’t trying to hurt him.  The opposite, in fact.  Bad still feels like Ant is twisting the knife in an already raw wound.  “I know.”

“I know Skeppy has… pretty much mastered being ruthless in your place–”

“He was always good at that, he didn’t need to fill my shoes, he was always a force to be reckoned with,” Bad murmurs.

“I know,” Ant says not unkindly.  “But, despite all that ruthlessness, he really cares about you.  A lot.”

Bad’s hands are balled into fists in his lap, he almost doesn’t want to speak for fear of his voice shaking and he also wants to tell Ant he is crossing a line but instead he just nods.

Ant is struggling to offer some comfort.  “I know you didn’t want to come back, Bad.  Especially not like this.  But Skeppy knows you care about him too.  And when we get him back, things can go back to the way they were, right?”

“Who said I didn’t want to come back?” Bad says, too calm, too mild tempered.

“Well, you did, right?  You’re the one who wanted to… be better for Sapnap’s sake,” Ant hopes this doesn’t sound like an accusation.

“Exactly.  For Sapnap’s sake,” Bad’s tone remains cool and level.  “I never wanted to leave.  This was my family, my home.  I left because I had to, to get back into Sapnap’s good graces, sure,” Bad exhales a bitter laugh.  “Hm.  That hasn’t worked out so far, right?  It’s only been… what is it now, five years since my retirement?”

Ant says nothing.

“No,” Bad continues.  “Retirement doesn’t suit me, I think.  And at this point, I think I’ll have a better shot of reaching out to Skeppy right now than Sapnap.”

Ant can’t say he disagrees.

Both of them almost go for their guns when the phone still on the desk starts to ring.  They both relax a modicum, exchanging furtive glances.  It continues to ring.  Bad realizes it’s his to answer now.  Bad picks up the phone, but he doesn’t say a word.

“It’s Punz.”

Bad isn’t sure if he should feel relieved or frustrated that it isn’t a ransome.  “What is it?  Skeppy?”

“No, Bad.  I’m sorry.  He’s definitely gone then?”  Punz does sound genuinely concerned, but Bad doesn’t have the patience for his sympathies.

“Yes– What is it, then?” Bad says more sharply.

“It’s… I don’t know how much you know about this, but your cop informant just got taken in.”

“What?” Bad pulls back, nodding Ant over to listen in as well.

“Yeah.  They’re at the station now.  So, if they know something you don’t want the cops to know, might want to get them out.  Looks like it was a rough arrest and I’m guessing it’s not getting any easier.”

Bad sighs.  He doesn’t care about this right now, he knows he should.  “Got it, thank you, Punz.  We’ll… we’ll send a little something extra to your pay, alright?”

“I’ll accept, but you know that’s not why I told you.  The Badlands have looked out for me, just thought I’d return the favor.  Speaking of, I’ll keep an ear out for word on Skeppy,” a pause, weighted by static over the line.  “I’m sorry, Bad.”

“Don’t be.  We’ll take care of this.  Thank you for doing what you did.  Stay safe,” Bad hangs up before he can get any more sympathies.  “So, this informant.”

“Ponk.”

“Yes, our old friend Ponk," Bad continues.  "They’ve been arrested.  I guess Sam's new moral compass is just as sticky as I remember.  What do they know about what we got from the police station?”

“Uh, not much,” Ant thinks back carefully.  “But… they could mention working for the Badlands.  That would be enough to…”

“Get Sapnap to put his guard back up, yes,” Bad feels a headache forming.  He hasn’t missed this part of the job at all.  “Alright, I will stay here, keep looking, see who I can get ahold of.  I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t urgent, but there aren’t many people I trust with this, with getting that close to Sapnap, and…” Bad sighs.  “Would you keep an eye on them at the station?  If they get let out too soon, you’ll know what to do.”

Ant nods grimly.  “How far?”

“Try not to kill them.  Unless it’s obvious they snitched.  Play it carefully.  Let’s not be too hasty, alright?” Bad says generously.

“Got it.  I’ll check back in later,” Ant still hesitates.  “Are you gonna be okay here alone?”

“What?” Bad glances up at him, still surprised.  “Well, if whoever attacked Skeppy comes back for more, that would be ideal, wouldn’t it?  Be nice to know who we’re up against here.”

Ant laughs dryly.  “Alright, fair enough.  Just… take care of yourself, Bad.”

“You too, Ant.”

Bad is once again alone in his– and then Skeppy’s and now his again– office.  All that’s left out of place is still the blood on the floor.  Bad gives himself this moment to press his forehead to the cool surface of the desk.  He forces himself to breathe.

“We’re not losing our best friend, m’kay?”  He speaks softly, eyes still closed.  “We’re going to save him.  And we’re going to destroy whoever did this.”  Bad laughs, his voice almost distorted pressed against the wood.  “Betcha Skeppy will like that part.”

[honeesucker]

Darling, Dearest | Part 3

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x F!Reader (READ ALL WARNINGS)

Word count: 4,307 (Ch. 3 of a multi-chapter fic)

Series Content Warnings: Non-Con / Dub-Con | Drug use | Depictions of violence | Dacryphilia | Unprotected sex | Depictions / mentions of blood | Kidnapping | D/s dynamics | Pet play | Degradation | Multiple partners | Stockholm Syndrome |

Part one ♡ 

Part two ♡

Divider designed by Firefly-Graphics ♡

‘Uhhnfhh!” My voice was hoarse from the constant screams being pulled from my throat so easily. I had since lost the ability to form coherent sentences using real words, my brain muddled from orgasms I long since lost count had resigned itself to baser sounds. My pussy was squelching so lewdly amidst the tireless ministrations of the man between my legs, which were draped over his shoulders. I was surprised my body could still produce any sort of substance after cumming so much but I was continually surprised by how the man brought out one more orgasm, pushing me over the edge again and again with each hungry stroke of the magic muscle currently devouring my sloppy, numb cunt like a starved animal. “Mmfmfhh, p-please! Stop s’too much!”

“Oh, come on now princess,” the deep rasp of a familiar voice sounded from between my legs. I peel my heavy eyelids open, sticky with tears from overstimulation as I glance down, my half-lidded gaze meeting deep carmine eyes shimmering up at me with a mischievous hunger. The soft baby blue waves framed his face unhidden by Father as he tilted his head like a curious puppy, despite his scars and rough patches of skin, he was beautiful.

So beautiful.

“P-please can’t take anymore, please don’t make me cum again,” I was a mewling mess of tears, saliva and heavy sobs wracking my whole body with trembling shakes but it only made Shigaraki glow and smirk, “Tomu p-please, n’more” I slurred as my eyelids fell shut.

“Okay my princess,” Shigaraki whispered, clambering up the length of my body to meet me in a sweet kiss. My eyes still shut but I felt him lean down and nuzzle against my neck gently, applying a soft peppering of kisses along the column of my neck and along my jaw, making me giggle. “I’ll give you some time to rest before the real fun starts,” I sighed contentedly while allowing the feeling of exhaustion to take over my body for a short rest, the elation of finally receiving a reprieve from Shigaraki’s insatiable needs halted by the feeling of my pussy being stretched wider than ever before, my body began to shake in the motions of being fucked at a brutal pace but when my eyes shot open Shigaraki was gone, and the soft pink dream world we shared was starting to bleed into deep hues of blackened blue. It felt like I had been holding my breath underwater for longer than I could, and wasn’t near the surface yet until finally I broke through with a sobbing gasp.

My eyes met almost total darkness aside from the dim glow of a gaming menu left to repeat on the screen of the wall mounted TV. The frantic thumping of my heart took over as mind tried to gather its bearings from being ripped out of a peaceful dream into reality in such a harsh way. I heard huffing and felt wet droplets fall onto my face. Blinking away the sleep in my eyes I watched in horror as Shigaraki, the real Shigaraki, was leaning over me while droplets of saliva from his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth fell onto my face again. His cock was spearing in and out of me without abandon or care for my comfort, feeling like I was being torn apart. I tried to scream but found that there was a wadded-up piece of fabric shoved in my mouth, and secured with a silken gag tied around my head which only allowed a muffled cry to break through the sounds of Shigaraki’s labored breathing. His eyes finally snapped down to my awakening form with a wide smile.

“You did say you’d do anything, right Y/N?” Shigaraki mimicked the way I pleaded with him earlier, the embarrassment of being made fun of heating up my cheeks to a fiery pink. “Why don’t you keep being such a good, compliant cock-sleeve for me hm?” I tried to thrash my body but found that my wrists and ankles were bound to the bed and unable to move beyond an inch. The relentless slap of heavy balls against my ass added a strange sensation that sparked a fire straight into my core while the thrusts of the villain above me began to quicken and stutter before a few final pushes that had the head of his cock slamming up against my cervix over and over, sending full-body jolts throughout my nervous system that had the coil of an impending orgasm ready to snap.

“Come on little cock-sleeve, why don’t you cum for me? I feel you squeezing my cock, ready to milk me for all I have,” Shigaraki was laughing like a maniac above me as he finally let out a loud groan while he pinned his hips against mine, anchoring his cock as deep inside of me as it would go as it shot ropes of hot white cum against my womb, and the coil snapped as he was filling me up. My walls were clamping down around his cock, spasming and sucking him in deeper as my body thrashed against the bindings, my blood felt electric as I cried and drooled against my gag. Shigaraki fell fully on top of me, skin slick with sweat causing us to stick together like half-dried glue. He kept his cock seated fully in my cunt as he caught his breath, and once he did, he slowly pulled his length out of me simultaneously pulling a whimper from my throat with it as the ridges and veins caught every sensitive part inside of my abused hole on the way out.  

“You’re turning out to be more useful than I initially thought,” Shigaraki mused, more to himself out loud than to me. I was left shaking, sweaty and full of warm, sticky cum that was leaking out of my pussy and onto the mattress. Fat rolls of tears were still spilling from my eyes and down the sides of my face as I lay back on the pillow, my limbs ached and I wanted to badly to curl in on myself but my wrists and ankles were still tied to the bed without much give. “I have to go and meet someone about some prospective members for the League, you be a good toy and stay put,” and with that he was gone.

I wasn’t certain how long it had been since Shigaraki left. Ten minutes or two hours felt the same when my mind remained a hazy mess of pain and disgust at myself that I came on the cock that fucked me awake. I was in such a tormented state of mind that I didn’t realize that my quirk had activated and was working itself on my body, I didn’t take notice when the blue tendrils of energy healed the raw skin around my wrists and ankles where the ties dug in... didn’t realize I was pulling my knees to my chest and tucking arms against my stomach in as tight of a ball as I could get after the energy worked itself away at the material keeping me hostage.  

I fell asleep sobbing.

I woke up in a muddled haze of pain and confusion. My body ached like I’d been in the same position for days, and I stretched out and welcomed the sting that came with using the dormant muscles. I sat up and realized I was back in the room that had become ‘mine’ the one I initially woke up in when this whole mess started. I stretched and twisted my body until the ache dulled to a comfortable degree, and walked into the bathroom to shower; well-deserved as my skin felt filthy, sticky and wet with sweat. I turned the shower on and let the steam fill up the entire bathroom before stripping and stepping under the burning spray. I showered until the hot water turned tepid after over an hour of scrubbing, sudsing, conditioning and exfoliating every inch of my body – something in my head telling me to scrub. Scrub until it was gone.

Until what was gone?

I stepped out of the glass door and into the steamy room, enjoying the way the air quick-cooled my skin and left me feeling more refreshed than I had in a while since my arrival here. I was watching myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.

“You said you’d do anything, right Y/N?” Shigaraki’s voice came through the haze of my mind like a wasp sting to the psyche. I spit out my toothbrush and gagged on the memory, slipping to the floor as the night of horror came back to the forefront of my mind, something my restful state tried to protect me from but wasn’t strong enough to overtake.  

I swallowed the thick memory back down while resigning myself to the reality of what happened.

I did say I’d do anything, didn’t I?

Fucking coward.

After a glacial-paced week of sitting and watching Kurogiri take care of the bar with Shigaraki always watching some lesser-known Pro Hero on the TV complete an interview for the most recent villain attack that they thwarted, muttering to himself about the hypocrisy of it all. “Government mandated violence all in the name of the Greater Good... y’ugh,” he’d murmur angrily as his nail dug harshly into the column of his throat where new wounds and old scars comingled. With a sigh I’d stand up and walk over to where Shigaraki was sat, ruby eyes glued to the TV in silent rage as I slowly cupped his large, slender hands in my own as I pulled them down, replacing the scratch of his nails with the soft palms of my hands allowing the liquid glow of my quirk to cool and heal the raw wounds. He was resistant to me touching him in this way at first but it soon became a softened reluctance over an outright disgust.

Sometimes I almost felt him sigh and soften into my touch; and if I caught him on a particularly good day he would let me rub a moisturizing ointment on his neck, around his lips and eyes, and the scarred ridges of his forehead he seemed especially tender about. I’d always thank him for letting me into his personal space without killing me. The sarcastic quip always got me a slight tug at the corner of his lips, not a full smile but close enough in my book.

Being a reluctant (see compelled) member of the Leage of Villains as the go-to feel good girl wasn’t as awful as the first few weeks that compiled a list of horrors I was never exposed to in my day-to-day civilian life. I had a coming-to-self moment with all that had happened and recognized the pedestal I set my standards on didn’t apply here, not when I was doing whatever it took to survive each day as it came... be it an uppity thug with a colt .45 placed between my eyes (he was dusted before he thought about pulling the trigger) or Shigaraki and his hellishly huge cock - I’d take it on. I had to, had to mold myself to this uncertain lifestyle.  

The pain was starting to morph into something I derived a sick amount of pleasure from, body numb from overstimulation and pussy filled and leaking on an almost nightly basis whether back at the bar in Shigaraki’s room, or out somewhere in a filthy backway alley because his temper got out of control and he needed something grounding to reestablish his dominance over – and of course I wouldn’t let Shigaraki come an inch on to knowing I was getting more enjoyment than what reactions he forced from me with his brutal ministrations.  

I was walking shortly behind Shigaraki along the dimly lit street coming back from one of the many meetings with Giran that Shigaraki has been attending, hearing promises of new blood to come for the League of Villains – Giran was set to bring a few new bodies to the bar next week after a failed rendezvous earlier the previous week with Stain, the Hero Killer, hadn’t panned out the way Shigaraki had hoped it would; though he was completely unfazed by the failing of Stain’s recruitment and just moved on to bigger plans that included destroying him instead along the way. It was a miraculous turnaround after the failed recruitment of Stain and a meeting Shigaraki had mentioned with a student that was ‘surprisingly insightful’ - I wasn’t sure what it meant then but Shigaraki had slowly began to morph into a true leader of the League as opposed to the childish brat with an anger problem and disposable resources. He was still angry, still had all he could want short of the collapse of Hero Society at his fingertips... but his demeanor and reactions to certain things shifted and I admired the change in him.

I was pulled from my mindless day dreaming by someone quite literally pulling on me and shoving me hard against a wall behind a convenience store Shigaraki and I had been walking past, though his long legs had meant he was further ahead of me when I was grabbed. A meaty hand that smelt like cigarettes and filth was clamped over my mouth and I looked up to see the stocky form of some no-life thug in a grey wifebeater and jeans looking at me with blown pupils and a sick grin of uneven black and yellowed teeth. There was an indistinguishable press of a dulled knife in my stomach, not quite puncturing into me yet but I felt the tiniest amount of blood trickling down to my navel from the initial push. I glowered at the hunk of fat and ill-intent pinning me to the wall, struggling against the grip that while shaky, was still strong enough to overpower me. I had just gotten one of my legs loose from where his own were pinning them just enough to give a good kick straight up into his family jewels but just as my boot was meant to contact balls his body crumbled and disintegrated to comingle with the other debris and filth of the alleyway where he truly belonged.  

“Fuc-” I was cut off by Shigaraki’s annoyed expression, shaking his hand slightly as it dusting it off.

“You’re an incessant magnet for scum,” he growled, yanking me from my shocked position still on the wall and out back onto the sidewalk toward the bar. He had an iron-tight four fingered grip on my wrist that I knew was going to leave an angry looking mark once he let me go. With his pace set to a brutal haste, we were back inside the bar in no time. Walking quickly past Kurogiri who gave us a questioning look but didn’t push Shigaraki any further, knowing the man was furious and on a mission. We rounded a corner and down a hall to where I knew Shigaraki’s room was, and he opened the door and threw me inside, shutting it behind him and leaning against it with his slender arms crossed tightly across his chest, his gleaming red eyes glaring daggers down at me where I fell on his mattress, his right hand came up to his neck and scratched at it relentlessly, picking at the tender skin and causing pearls of blood to show.  

“May I ask what the hell this is?” I motioned to my bruised wrist and outwardly to the room around us in general. Shigaraki was taking in sharp, deep breaths like he was trying to calm himself down.

“Shut up,” is all he growled out.

“W-” I started and then decided to clamp my mouth shut, thinking better against speaking up like my need for the last word is fighting me to do. I just give a small nod and fold my hands in my lap, waiting; and I wasn’t kept waiting long before slender, pale fingers reached out in front of me and quickly decayed my sweatshirt and the joggers of Shigaraki’s I was still wearing. Knowing where this was going to head, I quickly kicked off the boots I was still wearing and waited, almost afraid to breathe as Shigaraki’s fingertips ghosted over the contours of my body, stopping to press a red mark into an especially soft spot with a pleased hum. He finally decided upon utilizing both his hands pointer finger and thumb to tug and roll my nipples harshly between his fingers with an unforgiving pressure, taking extra pleasure in the pathetic, pained mewls that left my throat when he tugged forward harshly.

“You belong to me,” he said evenly, his deadpan tone and calm demeanor scaring me more than I am during any of his previous outbursts. One hand let go of the abused nipple it was holding onto to rain down a slap that left the room echoing with a deafening silence. I bit into my bottom lip until it bled, holding back the cry as a few tears escapes my eyes. Shigaraki leaned forward and licked up along the curve of my cheek, taking my throat into his hand, leaving his middle finger up in the air as he pressed into my throat with force. “Say it,” he growled.

“Y-yours,” I choked out as best I could from the pressure on my throat, “I belong to you - I’m yours.”

“That’s right, you’re mine. Mine to do with as I please, mine to keep,” Shigaraki leant down and took a long breath in, leaning in further to place a kiss on the top of my head. “Then why do you keep letting the slums of the Earth put their hands on what’s mine? Once or twice might be a coincidence, but it’s happened what, princess, three or four times now? That’s a pattern...” Shigaraki’s tone was dangerous and my heart leapt up into my throat jack hammering like a rabbit caught beneath a wolf’s paw. “A pattern that needs to be broken,” he finishes and the tears are flowing in a silent river down my cheeks, landing on my bare chest and mixing with the remaining ash of my clothes in grey streaks.  

“S-Shigaraki, I don’t... I-I can’t control what others do to me,” I whisper nearly inaudible, “I don’t ask to be touched or threatened, or – or fucking whatever!” I didn’t realize I was shaking until Shigaraki placed his hands on my shoulders careful not to lay all fingers down as always, and pressed down on them until I was laying back on the bed underneath his weight. My body was still trembling beneath the hard crimson stare of the villain above me as he slowly leant down to draw a deep breath against the skin of my shoulder, sending a shiver up the length of my spine. “P-please I don’t mean to draw their attention, I don’t want it,” I was whining weakly as he kept up his slowly ghosting over my body, drawing deep inhales of my skin and hair, tracing a long wet line with his tongue up the column of my neck and the curve of my face... the way you’d imagine a dragon would play with a sheep before it devoured the poor creature. I stopped my pleading quickly when I realized it wasn’t changing his demeanor, or my inevitable fate, of what that was I wasn’t certain, but I had one last pleading question. “W-why am I being punished for someone else’s transgressions?” I wasn’t proud of the way my voice cracked and bubbled with fear, and lost the fight to the threat of tears almost spilling over my eyes.

“You’re not,” Shigaraki breathed, ghosting his against my neck before placing sweet kisses against the skin.  

“Then why-?” I was cut off by the press of his scarred lips to mine, and while it was always an odd feeling blooming in the pit of my stomach at the uncharacteristically intimate act, I allowed him to do as he pleased; and despite the side effects of his quirk affecting his skin, his lips were still warm and welcoming. Shigaraki pressed his body further against mine, lodging a knee between my thighs as he pressed the joint hard up against my pussy causing my cheeks to burn hot and pink with the embarrassment of how turned on I was by the simple action, my arousal evident in the hot pulsations of need aching where his knee pressed and rubbed just enough to frustrate me.

“Is being with me really such a punishment?” He asked, his tone even despite the personal sting the question would bring anyone asking that of themselves. He doesn’t wait for an answer though before his mouth is back on mine, slender fingers kneading harshly into the soft fat of my stomach and hips with a bruising force, dipping down to my thighs as he hiked them to curl up around his own hips. Shigaraki was rutting his clothed cock against my core, already shamefully hot and wet, soaking into the fabric of his pants as he grinded against the slick lips. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against mine, as my lips parted with puffing breaths from the growing arousal of his grinding, wanting more friction, more anything... more of him. “Don’t you see that someone so weak like you, someone so naive and alluring to such pathetic scum needs to be kept and looked after by someone who is able to protect them?” Shigaraki was punctuating his sentences with deep grinds against my bare pussy, the rough seams of his pants bringing me a mixture of pleasure from having just enough friction, and pain from how harsh the fabric was against the sensitive bud. I just nodded, dumb from the aching between my legs. I was always a magnet for trouble, big or small, and I noticed it more and more since having first been taken that night in the alley; it’s been one shitty situation after another with someone trying to take something from me. Shigaraki seemed to sense the change in my thoughts as he decayed his own clothing in a fit of frustrated rage at what was separating our bodies. His pale cock slapped up heavy against his stomach as the fabric fell from his body. The head was red, angry with need and leaking a bead of pearly precum. As if my body decided to move on its own, I was on my hands and knees on Shigaraki’s bed and leaning forward to grab at the delicious looking cock, lavishing the head with kitten licks swirling around the tip in a mess of saliva and precum. His long fingers were tangling in my hair, gentling scratching my scalp with the main four fingers, eliciting a hum from me as I leant into his palm like a cat. His fingers found purchase tangled in my hair on the back of my head as he gripped hard and gave a hard yank that had tears brimming my eyes as Shigaraki looked down at me with a charming smile stretching his lips and his ruby eyes narrowed down at me. “Answer me, princess,” Shigaraki purred and I only nodded along quickly.

“Y-yes I need protecting,” I whimpered out when his grip tightened, pulling at the roots of my hair painfully.  

“You need me,” he stated simply and I nodded fervently.

“Yes, I n-need you,” I let out a breath when Shigaraki released his Titan grip on my hair, plopping onto the bed and rubbing at the back of my head with a series of pitiful whines.  

“What do you need me for, princess?” Shigaraki asked with a wicked grin on his face.

“Mmfmmph n-need you to protect me,” I managed out between the small thrusts Shigaraki made of barely his cockhead in and out of my mouth, teasing me. “Need your coc-” a hard shove had his full length sheathed down my throat as I drooled and gagged around the fleshy member. Sputtering and trying to breathe through my nose until Shigaraki used his forefinger and thumb to pinch my nostrils affectively cutting off all my air which had me struggling against him.  

“That’s right,” Shigaraki stated above me, as cool and collected as ever as I thrashed and struggled for air beneath him, “you need me, my cock. I am the Master of your future, I can give you so much and take everything away,” he said giving one final thrust into my mouth after I calmed down from lack of oxygen and resignation to my fate, and pulled out letting me sputter and pull hungry breaths of air in as he looked on with a sick satisfaction etched across his soft, scarred features. I fell down on my stomach flat like a frog and just let the tears flow freely as my body shook with hiccups and fits of coughs as the ability to breathe came back to me fully.  

Shigaraki leant down until he was face to face with me, his hand reaching out to cut my tear-soaked cheek as he spoke, “You’re going to make such an exceptional player two when I’m done with you.”

I resigned myself to the comfort that came as he crawled into his bed with me, wrapping his frame around mine as I still shook a bit from the sobs that wracked my chest. I fell asleep coming down from the high of fear, sinking into the comfort of no longer being used for the time being having been pushed past a limit tonight.

I felt strong, slender arms grasp my waist tighter in my sleep as I drifted off into a black, dreamless sleep.

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 11

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 11: It’s a Bittersweet Reunion

“Monkey King!” MK quickly stood up as he rushed towards his mentor, “it’s not what it-” he quieted down as he felt Monkey King glint ominously as he stared him down.

“You should probably listen to starlight there,” Macaque tried to say, but he sighed when the stare was directed back to him, but a lot more threatening.

“What have you done to him!?”

“Or you can just ignore me,” he sighed dramatically, but his entire body was buzzing in anticipation for the first strike. He knew how this is all gonna go down whether he likes it or not. So he takes a step forward with his hands out and says, “look Wukong, it’s-” then promptly stops as the Monkey sage takes a step towards him.

“Don’t you take another step forward,” he growled out.

“Look Wukong-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I refuse to call you Monkey King, so Wukong,” he emphasized. He didn’t call him Monkey King back then and he sure as hell is not about to start now. “Open your fucking ears and listen, I’m not gonna hurt the kid.”

“Nice try, but I’m not buying it,” he watched his every twitch, just waiting to see when he would strike.

“But I’m not, you really think I’d hurt a kid?”

Wukong said nothing, but his narrowed eyes were all the answer he needed.

Macaque sucked in a sharp breath and gritted his teeth shut as his nails dug into the palm of his hands. He tried his best to ignore the hushed whispers in his head that begged him to show him real fear. Show how deep our shadows can take him. Show him how to see with one eye like him. Show him painpainpainpain. Then he let the air harshly out of his nose as clenched his teeth as he growled out. “You really think that low of me huh.”

“After what you did to them,” he shifted his foot back and gripped tightly onto his staff, “it does make me question a few things.”

The six eared demon couldn’t stop the jealousy and irritation that flowed through his mind when he heard those venomous words. Didn’t stop his hands from shaking nor his eyes or ears from twitching.

“What were you doing with MK,” he repeated himself.

“Oh some herb gathering, I’m out of stock you know,” he sarcastically said.

“If you're going to lie, at least think of a more feasible story,” Mac really wanted to rip off his tongue at that, “tell me the truth.”

“Or what?”

“But it’s true!” MK tried to say, but it seemed that his words were ignored.

“Or I’ll make you,” he let the golden energy roll over him as he stood in front of his student.

“Just try it,” he taunted as his own violent aura emerged and coiled around him. He knew where this was headed, but at this point he didn’t care, he wanted to vent out all his frustrations to this dumbass monkey for a long time. He sent over a glance to MK, who looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, to stand far away.

He heard it loud and clear as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly before running as far as he could.

Then, in less than a heartbeat, there was a loud sound that blasted out as the two monkeys collided together in a burst of torrent energy.

BOOM BOOM BOOOOOM

They separated as the blow blew them both back, but Wukong charged first once more as Macaque sank into the shadows to avoid the attack. That didn’t deter the golden monkey as he activated his eyes of truth with a quick glance charged at one spot, only to block an attack from a clone emerging while the other followed suit.

“You really think it would be that simple,” taunted Macaque as he rushed in with a swing of his glowing staff.

Wukong easily dispelled the clones and side swept him with his own staff.

Neither side gave him as they instinctively began to run further toward the mountain while still attacking one another.

Both monkeys are opposite of one another in many ways, but those differences seem to not matter when face to face with each other as they both counter each other's moves.

When Wukong became a bird and flew high to drop down into a tiger, Macaque manipulated his shadows to tackle him out of mid air and send him spiraling to become a crater on the ground.

When Macaque tried to grapple him from behind and throw him to the mountain side, Wukong nimbly dodged and sent him a sidekick to the side.

When Wukong sent out a flurry of blows, Macaque easily blocked each strike with his own staff.

When Macaque attempts to kick him to the mountain and pin him there, Wukong jumps high and hurdles him away from him.

When one attacks, the other counter.

When the other strikes, one will block.

It was almost an endless cycle.

It may have been a long time since they last saw each other, but the knowledge and the instinct that was left upon them never failed for a second. So, with both monkeys equally matched it would lead to a stand still as neither side gave in or could push enough.

So how would this end?

With both sides killing the other off with one final blast, leaving the mountain and perhaps even part of the city in ruins?

Not quite. Actually it would end when MK had enough of this stupid fight and recklessly charges in.

“STOOPPP!” He yelled out as he made the final jump and stood in between the two enraged monkeys. He knows this is a very stupid move that he is gonna get lectured on later, but he thinks that this is the only way to stop the two of them from fighting.

And he was right. Both monkeys' eyes widened in horror as they saw where their attack was heading.

“MK/STARLIGHT!” They both screamed as both of them immediately aborted their powered up blast and screeched to a halt before they could run into him.

The sage monkey could feel his heart drilling in his ears as he was so grateful that he managed to stop when he did. Before he could grab his kid, another force beat him to it as he saw Macaque rush over to him. He sprinted over there to stop him from hurting him but it was too late as the black furred monkey grabbed MK, picked him up…and began to examine him frantically?

“Are you okay? Did you get hit? Did the excess release of the energy seep out and injure you? Do you feel any nausea, headaches, dizziness, need to run around and blow shit up, bloody nose?” He began to search not only his physical self, but his inner self in both body and spirit. He may train him and Mei to the ground every session and make them wish they wanted to rip out their own bones, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t take the utmost care of them. Hence why they have never left training with any broken bones or fractures alike, this is probably why everyone calls him a worrywart.

‘…what?’ Wukong blinked at the scene in front of him.

“I’m fine,” he tried to push the hands off him and focus him back on what was previously happening.

“That still doesn’t take away from the fact that you recklessly charged into the fight and almost got yourself killed!” He hissed out.

“Meep,” he lowered his head as he remembered, right, his Dad could care less if the world was burning around them if he was hurt in any way. Though that doesn’t stop the warm feeling in his gut at the thought.

“Ummm, what’s happening?” Monkey King couldn’t help but ask as he stepped forward, only to be stopped by Macaque turning to him, as he pushed MK behind him, and let out a short snarl to him with his eyes burning a bright violet.

He only stopped once he realized just who he was looking at and remembered what just happened not even a minute ago as he slowly eased his posture. But even when his eyes were focused on the monkey in front, he still kept three of his ears to MK behind.

“Wouldn’t you like to know tinker bell,” he couldn’t help grunting out.

“Okay, first off rude and secondly, I just want to know what you're doing with my student?” He rolled his eyes cause at this point he sorta figured out that he may have been slightly wrong about something. He just can’t put his finger on what.

“Oh now you want to talk,” the medicine monkey huffed, “would have been a nice idea before you decided to up and try to kill me.”

“I wasn’t going to kill you,” Wukong immediately said. “Just knock you out,” and that was the solid truth. He may not see eye to eye with him anymore, but he will not take away his life. He refuses to.

“Oh cause that’s so much better.”

“Would you rather you be a hundred feet underground?”

“As if you can manage that, I felt that last punch, it seems you are slacking old man,” he gave him a nasty smile.

“By only a thousand year!” His eye twitched at the age-old insult.

“Keep telling yourself that old man.”

“There may be a standstill but that still won’t stop me from throwing your scrawny ass off this mountain!”

“I would rather not,” both monkeys startled at the sound of MK's voice and they quickly backed away from each other as they just realized how close they were standing to the other. “I rather like my Dad alive.”

“MK don’t do-wait YOUR DAD?!” You can almost hear his neck snap towards his student at his words.

“Yeahhhh,” he couldn’t help but avoid those bewildered eyes as he rubbed his neck.

Wukong could barely comprehend his words as he turned his head to a very smug monkey.

“Surprise mother fucker,” he couldn’t help but say. He was very much enjoying this.

And for the first time, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, finally took a good look at his former friend and noticed that he has definitely changed. He couldn’t decide what to focus on, from his new clothes, his long mane (which really threw him for a loop), his sleek fur, or his very sparkly nails. But he decided it was probably best to focus on the human he is actually willing to protect as he formed up an articulate question in his head out loud.

“Dad?” Nope, he was still very thrown off about this. Macaque is a Dad?!? Are we still talking about the same angst demon monkey that would barely even stand the presence of others let alone a human child?!

“Huh, congratulations. I think you finally broke what was left of his brain no matter how small it may have been,” he complimented his child.

“I really wasn’t trying,” he sighed as he stepped closer.

“Then that’s even more pathetic on his part.”

“I’m still here,” Wukong couldn’t help but announce.

“Oh really I thought you left,” Macaque sarcastically said, “well since you're here then I guess you finally have time to listen or are you just gonna be an impulsive idiot again.”

“Okay, I’ll admit that I may have jumped the gun, but can you blame me for thinking that you would try something to get back at me?!” He shouted back, not knowing the fuse he had lit.

“Excuse me!?” At this point the demon monkey was fed up as he began to march back over to the sage monkey to start round two. He hoped he did not imply what he thought he did.

“I-I mean you used to never do this before,” he quickly said to calm down the enraged monkey, though he probably should have listened to MK frantic hand movements as they all gestured him to basically ‘shut up before you get killed.’

“I ‘used’ to! Past tense you egotistical fool! People-demons-I can change! I have changed, I know I am not the same demon I was thousands of years ago!” He had to stop himself from dragging his hands to that pretty little throat/begging him to understand. “I am not the same.”

“And you just happen to stumble upon a human who so happens to be able to pick up my staff?” He said in disbelief.

“Want to hear something shocking? Yes! I did! I found him and I adopted him cause I could, cause I wanted to, cause I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him alone! So get off your high horse and come down to the rest of us beings, cause the world doesn’t revolve around you Sun Wukong.” Macaque could barely hold in his anger as he spat out his name.

Wukong didn’t even flinch as he held his ground, he knows that people can change, he sure as fuck had, but right now he wants to make sure that the demon in front of him had changed for the better. He knows he is driving a bigger gap between them than before (hurtpainpainwhydontdoithetribematefriend) but he can’t take any chances, especially with the kid involved in their mess. “That still doesn’t mean that you won’t try to use him against me like before!”

And it was that moment that the fuse hit the combustion and Macaque erupted in a glorious and deadly violet light as he smashed his right fist into the mountain side and moments later, that came crumbling down.

“How dare you,” the low voice harshly echoed out.

“Wha-”

“How fucking DARE YOU!” Voices overlapped each other as a pulse of dark violent energy instinctively flared out towards Wukong, who was just able to stand his ground against the wave.

“Mac-” The monkey tried to speak but was abruptly cut off.

“How dare you accuse I would do anything to harm my child! Fuck you, you flea ridden coward! Here’s a fucking clue things change! I can admit I done some shit in the past, I screwed many over, and I damn sure stained red with the blood of innocent and guilty, but don’t you even dare for a goddamn moment that you never done messed up shit fuck face! But how fucking dare you accuse I would do anything to harm my child!” His eyes glowed in pure rage as he locked onto shocked golden eyes. He was done.

“No! No I don’t thi-” He shouldn’t have done this, he shouldn’t have said a damn thing.

“Shut up! Like fuck I know I made my own stupid mistakes and even when centuries have passed I will never make up for some of those, do you want me to say sorry? Cause I fucking am!” He clenched his robes to where his heart was as he gripped it right.

Wukong eyes feel like it couldn’t enlarge anymore as he reached out a hand to him, “Mac-”

“I’m sorry for attacking you and your friends so many times! I’m sorry that I couldn’t change my ways back then! I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep up! I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to stay by your side! I’m sorry for all the years you wasted being my other half!”

He is sorry that he spend all those years with his Sun, he is sorry that he couldn’t help but feel alive when he is with him, he is sorry that he couldn’t help but falling in love with him for all those years, but he doesn’t-will not say that outloud nor will he ever truly regret it.

Wukong feels everything shrinking in on him as he only has eyes for only one as of this moment. He could see the anger in his voice, the frustration in his eyes, and the rage in his stand.

But if there is one thing Macaque has always been good at, it is playing the part, cause he can also see the desperation in his tone, the misery in his eyes and the pure betrayal in how his shoulders are a bit too firm.

“Mac no! I-” He wanted to explain that he didn’t want this, that he was being an idiot.

“Shut up!” He didn’t want to hear anymore.

“Listen!” He wanted to explain it all.

“Shut up!” Not a single word, not now.

“Please, just-” He needs to tell him.

Then his glamor flickered as all of his scars showed on his body and his hazy blind one appeared as he bared his fangs and screeched out.

“I said SAVE IT BASTARD!”

It was dead silent on the mountain trail, no bird was chirping, no leaves were rustling, not even a sound of heavy breathing was heard. If you listened closely you could hear the beating heartbeat of every living thing, which was quite a feat unto itself, but it was suffocating to two demons facing each other on the mountain.

MK was the one who finally broke the silence as he walked up next to him, while making sure his footsteps were loudly heard, and gently spoke. “Dad, your glamor.”

That was what snapped Macaque out as he looked down to his scar filled hands and already instinctively knew the ones on his face, let alone the rest of his body, was prominent. So, he took a long deep breath as he held one hand over his blind eye and released it as he put the glamor back on.

“I’ll be leaving first starlight, yell if you need me,” he quietly said as he lowered his hand to reveal the scarless eyes.

“I will…are you okay dad?” He worriedly asked as he looked at him.

Macaque could only muster up a small smile at his child care as he ruffled his hair, before sinking into the shadows.

Not once looking back to his old friend.

MK could only faintly watch his dad shadow travel and as soon as he knew he couldn’t see him anymore, he whirled around to the Monkey King, who still had a very horrified expression, with a pissed off look, “What the hell was that?!”

“What have I done?” He hoarsely said as he still had his eyes on the traveling shadow even when it had long escaped from the mountain.

“I don’t know, maybe jump to conclusions!” He snarked out to the Monkey King for the first time. He respects him, he really does and that won’t change, but that he cares more for the monkey who raised him and took care of him for all those years. So yeah, he is getting some answers out of him whether he likes it or not.

Monkey King, who hadn't moved since Macaque left, finally pried his eyes away from the moving shadow, no matter how much he wanted to follow, and looked to his student. “I messed up real bad, didn’t I.”

“If you mean by indiscriminately yelling at my dad before he even had the chance to speak then promptly fighting him and then going back to yelling at him once more? Then yeah, you did,” he sarcastically said.

He winced at the harsh, but very justifiable, tone. “…so, he’s your dad?” And he still can’t help but ask, because Macaque raising a child was not even on his list of things he could have imagined.

“Geez, how’d you figure that one out?”

“You get your snark from him don’t you,” he couldn’t help but say.

“Oh yeah,” he unashamedly said, “he did raise me after all.”

Wukong wilted at the reminder, “He did, didn’t he.” It was after he said that was when he squatted down, gripped his hair, and let out a short burst of frustration. He doesn’t know if he can come back from this, if things were bad before, they are absolutely horrendous to the pit of despair now.

The student silently calmed down as he blinked at the monkey sage actions then a few things finally clicked into place. “You still care about him.”

“What, the books don’t emphasize enough of our ‘wonderful’ relationship to each other,” Monkey King couldn’t help but sarcastically say. He has read the book and let’s just say that there are some details so far off that it just makes him want to completely rip all his fur off.

“No, but dad does tell me that you were his first friend,” he plopped down next to him.

The Monkey King, “He talks about me?”

“Ohhh yeah, he told me all the things you guys did together. Like that one time where you tried to trick a corrupt ruler by disguising as a pair of priests.”

“To be fair, the two of us were really hungry and that buffet that he had looked real damn good, it’s not our fault that the man got outed in the end and was left on the cliff…well only a little bit,” he snorted. You can’t blame them for being hungry, but they may have had a rather loud conversation out loud about the extravagant feast they saw to a couple of people…in the market of the common folks….and as they were in the middle of a shortage. Things just tend to escalate sometimes, but can you really blame them?

“Dad just said that what goes around comes around.”

“That too,” he said with a small chuckle as he trailed off and sighed, “he was with me since almost the beginning. When I left the mountain for the first time, I didn’t have my monkey nor did I know anyone, so meeting him was a blessing.”

“He told me the two of you met after you ate a mountain deity offering,” MK said.

“Like I said, I was still new to the world and I barely knew a damn thing, but he was there for basically it all and has to be one of the main reasons I’m even alive today, cause I can be real and admit that he was at least 75 percent of my impulse control.” He remembered all those times he had run off at the sight of the newest shiny objects or the next food and the amount of times Mac had to drag his ass away from there before the two of them were caught. “And I managed to ruin that all…twice!” He moaned out as he gripped his hair once more in frustration.

MK just watched his teacher silently self deprecate himself, he knows what it looks like, and sighed as he patted his shoulder. “It’s not totally over.”

“I essentially attacked him twice! I know some of those scars were made by me during our first battle and his eye,” he stopped short as he could feel the bile rise up as he remembered the hazy honey color eye floating back into his mind. “I made him blind, he is blind in one eye and I did that. Fuck I did that…I can’t forgive myself let alone even think he will forgive me.”

“Dad can hold a grudge, but he can also forgive. By the gods knows how many times I messed up before,” he lightly jokes.

“You're his kid and by the looks of it, someone he cares for greatly.” He doesn’t think he has ever seen his friend that worried before unless it was aimed towards him whenever he got badly injured. There is a painful tug of something weird coming from his stomach at the thought.

“And you're his friend, someone who he also cares for,” he shot back. “The two of you need better communication, but you two aren’t shattered and crushed up by a horse hoof during a race, just a bit broken but it can still be fixed.”

The monkey looked his student in the eye, “You really think so?”

“Mmhmm, Dad has missed you for all those years after all.” If he was any less observant he would have missed his Dad's nostalgic expression whenever he told him a story about them or his sad eyes when he would ask questions about the Monkey King.

“He’s not the only one,” he said as he finally sat down from his squatting position. “…can you tell me more about him?” It was about time he got reacquainted with his friend, they had over five hundred years after all. Maybe it was time to go back in the world again and see what he has been missing out on.

“Well he likes to garden,” he switched positions and crossed his legs together, this was gonna be a long talk.

Wukong's eyes blinked rapidly, “Now that’s new, I remembered that when we needed food we would just go to someone's farm and take some food there, there were so many times Mac took out weeds by accident, but damn it we still ate it just for the laughs.” He gave a small smile.

“He still does that from time to time out of habit.”

“Complains about it getting stuck in his teeth?” His eyes brighten.

“All the time,” he agreed.

The monkey let out a short chuckle, “Is that why you guys were up here? To get more plants?”

“Well no, we were here getting some herbs.”

“Herbs? Like for medicine?” He shot straight up and tried to ignore the growing pit of horror in his stomach. “Are you sick? Is he sick? Are you guys okay?!”

MK quickly shook his hands to dispel the worries monkey, he already had one, he was not looking for another. “No, nothing like that. He’s…well I guess basically a Doctor, I mean no one really puts a name on it, but yeah he usually collects herbs for his supply.”

“I’m sorry, he’s a what?!” Great! And here’s another thing he could have never imagined that Macaque being! “When-how-why did he become a Doctor?!”

“Honestly, he just said he was bored one day and saw Ping making medicine and decided to learn from him,” he shrugged. He should be glad that the Monkey King has come out of his depressive state, despite his over reaction to his dad…though it is quite funny.

“Whose Ping?” He knows that this is not someone the both of them knew when they were still friends, so this must have happened after.

“Ping is the human who-” MK cut himself off as he realized that perhaps he shouldn’t just tell his father personal secrets to someone he just had a fight with. “…who is one of his friends, he can tell you more about it if you ask.” Which will not be any time soon.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he said with deceit dripping from his voice, totally spacing out when he heard the word ‘friends’. “What else?”

“He sometimes likes to do shadow puppetry in the theater.”

“Now that’s something I know he won’t give up, I remember that he was more dramatic than me when it concerns his puppetry.”

“That’s what I said and he still is!”

Now everything still wasn’t fine despite the lighthearted atmosphere that surrounded the two. There was still a bone deep hurt that needed much time to be healed and nurtured between the two immortal simians, but this was the first step, no matter how small this may be. It will take time, patience, and so many apologies before anything can be forgiven, but for now it was the time to learn and let both monkeys calm down. For when it is time to meet once more, it is needless to say that a certain impulsive simian is going to go full force.

The sun was setting by the time MK got back from the mountain, he decided to go to his dad’s place for the night after he called up Pigsy to tell him the small change. When he entered through the front door the whole house was completely dark and silent as not a single light was on nor a single sound was uttered.

‘Oh no,’ he silently thought to himself as he made his way past the living room, passed their bedroom and finally faced a closet where they stored all of their pillows and blankets. He gently opened the door and his heart dropped as he saw his dad there in almost pitch darkness, kneeling with his head almost touching the ground and his hands covering all six of his ears as he methodically tapped the back of his neck with his middle finger.

MK opened his mouth to ask if he was alright, but promptly closed it as he realized just how stupid that question was, so instead he quickly head out to gathered some items before coming back. He placed the bowl of fruit and water bottles on the shelf above, he gently pried his dad hands off his ears and put the headphones on instead, he made sure to wrap the weighted blanket around the both of them, and he gently redirected his dad head to instead lay on his lap after he closed the door and began to groom his dad mane.

And yet throughout this entire process, Macaque had yet to utter a single word nor even shift an inch from his spot.

The boy knew he wasn’t going to respond, but he still can’t help himself but feel a twinge of anger directed at the Monkey King at what he has done.

‘This whole day was a disaster and a half,’ he narrowed his eyes as he numbly threaded his fingers in the fluffy fur. ‘He may be a God, but he’s not infallible…he’s not perfect.’ And with this little thought, he began to really realize that despite status or power, no one can be truly perfect. Not the Monkey King nor any other higher being that claims to be above them all. It’s a cynical thought, but he thinks that maybe it’s more real than he can imagine.

But those thoughts can wait for now. Right now, all he wants to do is focus on grooming this fur and just being there for his dad.

In the forest when the moon was high all were mostly sleeping and all was calm. Though some were laid to rest, there were other creatures, both mythical and not, that were waking up to their nightly routine. Everything was the same as always and nothing had changed enough to really bother any creatures despite.

Not even for a newly planted Plum Blossom seed that lay deep within the forest.

[inkribbon796]

What a Beautiful Wedding Ch. 1: A Sense of Poise and Rationality

Summary: “What a beautiful wedding” says a bridesmaid to a waiter. “And, yes, but what a shame. What a shame . . . 

Nothing bad happens here, I promise.

A/N: The music swells, the curtain lifts. Ladies, gentlemen, and all configurations of being: the show has begun . . .

Titles here are from Panic! at the Disco’s “I Write Sins not Tragedies”.

Okay, so this one’s been a bear to write so this might be uploaded a couple chapters today and the rest over the next day or two.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Eric looked at himself in the mirror as Roman set the final touches on his hair. His dark hair had small braids with tiny beads designed to catch the sunlight. His suit was an off-white color and his wrists were decorated with intricate bangles that kept his nerves from activating his powers and setting things on fire.

Despite the suits and dresses and other formal attire all the heroes were still in their masks. Secrecy was still important and they knew the press would be nearby. The only exception would be Eric, who got glasses enchanted, courtesy of the Host, to protect his identity from anyone who shouldn’t know it.

“And voila!” Roman announced and did a little excited jump, spinning the chair marginally and holding up a mirror so that Eric could see the back of his head.

“Awww, you look so cute,” Patton told him.

“R-eally?” Eric ducked his head nervously.

“Positively radiant, my dear,” Roman boasted, his red dress swishing as he twirled. “Not an eye will be able to look away from you.”

Eric’s eyes widened fearfully.

“Nice going Princey,” Virgil spoke up from across the room.

“They’ll look in a good way,” Roman promised. “They’ll see you and realize that you are the most beautiful man in the world.”

“B-ut that’s Illy,” Eric managed to force out.

Roman paused to think on that, “Well I won’t deny that he’s obnoxiously good looking but now you can give him a run for his money.”

Randall walked in, “How we lookin’[1]?”

Twisting around the chair, Roman grinned as he motioned to Eric. “Marvel at this masterpiece. I dare say Da Vinci nor Monet could have done better.”

“Very handsome,” Randall told Eric, both childhood friends smiling at each other. “Just came from checkin’ on the other groom. We’re just waiting fer a final sweep ‘a the area to make sure it’s alright.”[2]

“Alright,” Eric said.

On the other side of the building, Illinois was fiddling with his bow tie as he checked his hair and suit in the mirror.

“How’s it looking?” Illinois asked, his eyes moving to look at his adopted brother in the mirror.

“Nothing is amiss,” the Host told him.

“Marv still isn’t back,” Chase reminded. “I don’t like it. I haven’t heard a peep from him.”

“The Host spoke with Marvin, he is on his way back to the city with the Blade and the Angel of Death,” the Host took a seat. “While they will be late for the ceremony, Illinois and the attendants will find that they will arrive just in time.”

“Okay,” Illinois took a deep breath. He didn’t touch his lucky coin, he wanted today to be a good day. A perfect day.

He’d been trying to play his safe for months to hoard as much magic as possible. No adventures. No fights. Not even a card game with his siblings.

Because Eric deserved nice things. He deserved to be happy and safe.

After a while Dark checked his pocket watch, and Illinois walked out with him and the Host. The blind seer headed on ahead to wait with the other groomsmen.

Dark waited at one end of a long rug that led to a big outdoor gazebo with a dark wood roof. Chairs led up to the gazebo and had wooden structures protecting it from any accidental rain or glare from the sun. A matching rug was one that Randall would lead Eric down. The two grooms would meet in the middle and then walk up to the altar where Jackie, who had taken the online classes needed to officiate marriages.

The Entity paused, waiting for the signal from the organ that Dark could start walking. But he looked over at Illinois. The young man was looking around, his hand reaching into his pocket and resisted trying to pull out his lucky coin.

In the demon’s mind he thought of little Illinois, barely at chest level, with wide eyes that hungered for adventure but a body too small to take him there.

Dark had never liked thinking about how big Illinois had gotten. It reminded him that Illinois would walk out of his life and become his own person. It’s just . . . it had all been so wonderful while it lasted.

Illinois looked over at Dark and smiled. “Hey, 아빠[3].”

“Illinois,” Dark answered, trying to keep Damien quiet and invisible. Dark had to keep his hands to himself and his feelings out of the way. This was all for Illinois. He took a second to take a deep breath and schooled his features. “I’ll have your portion of the city ready for when you get back.”

“What?” Illinois asked, mostly in confusion.

But then the music began and Dark was offering his elbow. Illinois took it and promised himself that when he could pull Dark away again they’d talk. He didn’t like the tone Dark had taken when he’d said that.

Illinois and Dark stepped in time to the music and all too soon he saw Eric, his hands gripping onto Randall’s arm. He almost tripped when his eyes met Illinois’s.

Then all too soon, they were within arms reach. Illinois reached out to take Eric’s arm and they walked up. To Illinois, Eric looked like an angel he’d somehow snagged out of the sky and convinced to stay with him.

They walked down the aisle and Illinois kept the pace slow so that Eric wouldn’t have a single problem walking down the aisle. Dark and Randall followed them up.

Everything was going perfectly.

Illinois and Eric were looking at each other and Jackie opened his mouth to start the ceremony, when someone else walked down the aisle.

“I’m here!” Someone in a red tux announced. A smile as sharp as glass. “Shame on you, Damien, I almost missed the whole thing.”

Everyone immediately looked at the Actor, Dark got in front of Illinois as the young man was trying to push Eric towards Jackie.

“Get out,” Dark snarled in a furious growl.

“You’d done your job, step aside,” Actor snapped out a dark mass of aura and batted Dark to the side, the Entity slamming into the organ and let out a pained cough.

“아빠!”[3] Illinois called out. Yancy, who was closer, immediately raced to Dark’s side but the Entity shoved him away from both him and the Actor.

“I will admit,” Marc smiled as he waltzed down the aisle, “I didn’t recognize you at first. That’s my bad. But I did try and talk to you, and it’s quite an oversight not to personally invite me.”

Dark pushed himself back up to a kneeling position, his ringing shrill and aura coiling around.

“I didn’t invite you because you’re a piece of shit and you just attacked my dad, so fuck off,” Illinois snarled. He started trying to move over to Dark but the Actor slid into his path.

“Not possible,” Actor smiled, gesturing to himself. “Daddy’s here now and we don’t need . . .”

Actor glared back at Dark, “. . . to be worried about extraneous characters.”

“Get the hell out of here, I don’t want you anywhere near my family,” Illinois snarled.

“Oh, junior,” Marc smiled. “I’m trying to help you. Think of it: father and son. We’d take the world by storm.”

Illinois felt fury, thinking off all the foster homes and awful situations he’d been in, “Even if you were, you can fuck right the fuck off!”

Behind the Actor, Ranboo was trying to inch closer to Dark. He’d been sitting with the rest of the heroes. But he was trying to quietly summon up a portal to get Dark away from the Actor but when he inched too close the Actor spun around and slammed his aura into the young teen, knocking him back.

“If I wanted to take on the peanut gallery, I would have called you up,” Actor snapped.

“Enderwalk!” Virgil called out and raced over to him as the teen slammed against the wall of the gazebo and let out a grunt of pain. Immediately the room seemed to snap out of whatever haze they were in and moved as Marc moved to attack Ranboo again. Tubbo was already the closest.

Ranboo braced for the attack to hit but in the nick of time, there was a shattering of glass and Techno emerged from one of the eye portals. Shield and axe in hand he deflected the shot and blew a hole in the roof of the gazebo.

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there,” Techno smiled. “Come on, kid, I saw you using a weapon before, come on.”

“Boo,” Tubbo moved in as Phil and Marvin raced in.

“Anyone dead yet?” Marvin demanded.

“Bout time yeh showed up,”[4] Chase spat, pulled out his gun, a real one and aimed it at the Actor’s head.

Snarling in anger, the Actor exploded into black mist, making Chase miss his shot and nicked Illinois right in the face by accident.

Actor grabbed Dark and stabbed him with a dragged he pulled out of his black mist. “I don’t like being teased, Dames.”

With a slice, Dark screamed and the Actor pulled out a black day planner. “If you want something done right you should just do it yourself.”

Magic began to swirl around the Actor as bubbles began to form. They swelled in size and began to fill the room.

Bing began to visibly freak out and used his nanites to push Mini and Oliver away with his nanites, throwing them outside the gazebo just as a bubble expanded to snap up the rest of the androids.

In an instant the city rumbled and Dark . . .

. . . . . .

Dark woke up in bed.

He glared at the faintly glowing clock on the distant wall. It was barely a half-hour before he had to get up so there was no point in going back to sleep.

He smiled faintly when he heard Wilford snoring, the man splayed out to Dark’s left. The softer snores were from Chase who was cuddled up into Dark’s chest.

With a smile softening his features Dark decided: maybe he could sleep in a few more minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post A/N: . . . Okay I lied big time.

Accessibility Translations:

1. looking

2. Just came from checking on the other groom. We’re just waiting for a final sweep of the area to make sure it’s alright

3. Dad. Informal, read phonetically as: Appa.

4. About time you showed up

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.4 (BAON)

Summary:  Jeff doesn't know where they are or where they're going, but he knows one thing. It's probably not good.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Established Relationships,  Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags To Come

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

By the time the van came to a stop, Stretch still hadn’t woken up. Not that it mattered very much, there wasn’t a thing Jeff could have done to change their situation. At the moment, they were very much outnumbered, overpowered, and even if he’d had a clue where they were, it wouldn’t have done them any good. Before they dragged him out of the van, one of the thugs yanked a bag over his head. Blinded, he struggled to stumble along as two guys pulled him out, trying not to cry out as they led him barefoot across crumbling asphalt into a building with rough carpet.

He kept as quiet as he could, trying to not only listen in case they said anything useful, but also for Stretch, praying to a God he hadn’t spoken to since he was fifteen and his father threw him out that they didn't hurt Stretch. Jeff could survive a few bumps and bruises, but he didn't know how much Stretch could withstand. Intent was key when it came to Monsters, he knew that much, and these guys seemed to have plenty.

At first, he tried to keep track of where he was being led. An impossible effort when the twists and turns of being dragged along left him too disoriented to know his way up or down. They seemed to walk forever until his captors suddenly stopped and Jeff was shoved down into a chair. Rough hands grabbed at him, rope suddenly binding his wrists and ankles. He didn’t struggle as he was tied, only tried to tense his muscles as much as possible, some shitty internet meme he vaguely remembered reading said that it could help slip free later.

Turned out memes weren’t the best source for escape plans. When they were done, Jeff subtly tried to move and the best he could manage was a painful rope burn. The ropes felt like they were wound through the slats in the chair and unless Houdini decided to make good on his possible return from the other side, Jeff was going nowhere fast.

He could hear their captors moving around, muttering too low to be understood and the other sounds might have been more rope. Tying up Stretch, maybe, he hoped that’s what it was; at least if they were together, that was something, hell, that was everything right now.

The bag suddenly getting ripped off his head made him gasp, flinching from the glaring light pointed directly into his face. Squinting, he could barely see the shadowy figures standing behind it, but he was sure he could see a cell phone pointed in his direction.

“Say your name,” a rough voice demanded.

“Andy—” he began automatically. “No, Jeff, I’m sorry, Jeff! My name is Jeff!” There was nothing else and Jeff shifted, grimacing as the ropes dug in. It was on the tip of his tongue to go on, to blurt that he worked in public relations, that he was nobody important and not worth ransoming. He bit the inside of his lip to keep those rambles from pouring out. Partly because it was probably stupid to tell kidnappers your value or lack thereof, and partly because of Edge. He’d always told them to never offer more information than was necessary and yeah, he’d been talking about board games at the time, but Jeff doubted that Clue was where Edge learned that particular rule. If these assholes wanted more info, they could damn well ask.

Either his name was all they wanted or they already had whatever other info they needed. Jeff didn’t even have a chance to try squinting through the too-bright light when one of them came towards him and yanked the bag back over his head. He sat there, sweat beading on his face and his own breath threatening to smother him as he listened to their captors moving around next to him.

“He can’t talk,” one of them said disgustedly. “He’s still wasted.”

Stretch. That meant he was right next to him, thank fucking god.

The rough sound of a slap made Jeff tense, protests bitten off when the same voice cursed and there came the sound of someone rubbing their head, “What the fuck, man!”

“That’s exactly how we want him, dumbass! He doesn’t need to talk, all they need is a good look at him. Come on, they’re waiting.”

Footsteps and then the sound of a door closing. Jeff strained to hear if anyone was still in there with them around his own breathing loud in his ears, his pulse thundering. There was nothing, no shuffle of feet against the floor or the creak of a chair. Jeff waited a little longer, curling his chilly toes against the rough carpet.

Nothing. Jeff took a long, slow breathing, trying to calm his racing pulse. He needed to be cool right now so he could try to think of something. Even if the Embassy was willing to give these assholes whatever they wanted, they sure as hell couldn’t count on that saving their lives. He was no strategist, his degree was in sociology, for fuck’s sake, but. Stretch always called him Handy Andy and it made him feel like someone different, someone braver who could stand up to a violent asshole on a bus and help Stretch with crazy experiments involving swinging bottles of Diet Coke rigged with automatic mentos dispensers. Jeff might not be the best for this situation, but Andy was sure as hell gonna try.

“Stretch,” Jeff said softly. He waited for someone to shout or a slap followed by a demand that he shut up. When none came, he went on, soft and urgent, “I know you can't hear me, but, just in case you can. It's gonna be okay. I know you're big on promises and I'm promising you right now we're getting out of this. I promise you." If he could glean anything of what Jeff was saying, he hoped he could hear that much. At least maybe he wouldn't be afraid.

"i sure hope so, i didn't get this far in life to get dusted by a low rent group of third rate scooby doo level villains. seriously, they tied us up with rope, were they out of packing tape at ‘kidnappers ‘r’ us’ or were they just eager to try the knots they learned in boy scouts before they got kicked out."

Okay, that wasn’t quite the last thing he’d expected, but it was close.

"Stretch?" Jeff gasped out. He couldn’t see a damn thing through the bag, but he could hear a muted popping sound. Suddenly, the bag was gone, far gentler than before and then he was blinking up into Stretch’s smirking face.

Jeff looked around a little wildly and next to him was another chair, the still-tied ropes hanging from the rungs in loose coils.

“yeah, sorry. i woke up back in the van, didn’t want to tip them off. wherever they buy their roofies must not have given them a dosage chart.” Stretch settled his hands on Jeff’s shoulders. “hold still, this is a lot easier than fighting with knots.”

It was the gentlest and shortest teleport he’d ever felt. Only a brief disorientation and when his vision cleared, he was sitting on top of the ropes that had just been binding him.

Jeff scrambled to his feet, swiping his sleeve across his sweaty forehead. Holy shit, maybe he should take up praying again more regularly, this was the fastest service he’d ever gotten. “Can you get us outside?”

His heart sank as Stretch shook his head. “that's gonna be a no. with the bags on our heads, i couldn't see where we are. shortcutting is tricky, it's dangerous to teleport blind. that's how you end up stuck in walls or halfway inside a table or some shit.” Stretch waved a slender hand at the chairs. “dangerous, not impossible. a few inches above where i was sitting was a pretty safe bet to get out of the ropes, but anything else is more likely to get us dead than on the street.” He frowned, glancing around the room thoughtfully. “plus, i'm not going anywhere without a little intel. they’re fucking idiots, but they knew enough to drug me and how to do it. that's not information you can just look up on a wiki-how.”

“Okay,” Jeff took a deep, steadying breath. "So, what do we do, then?” He glanced at the door. “Can you pick locks?"

"sure,” Stretch said absently. He was looking around the room. It was a storage room of some sort, there was more dusty furniture aside from the chairs, including a rickety desk, and metal cabinets lined the walls. “but i can't do much about the door being barred. i heard something get braced against it when they went out.

"Oh. Right."

“yeah,” Stretch agreed, “at least one of them has a brain cell or two rolling around up top, enough to get them this far. but the road trip is over and it’s time to pay the tolls.” Stretch shook his head disgustedly. "first rule of kidnapping is never leave the kidnappees alone. seriously, i'm getting my cues from netflix and even i know that.”

His eye lights paused in their survey of the room, brightening. Jeff followed his gaze and saw in one corner there was an honest to god old-fashioned rotary telephone pushed into the far corner of the desk, nearly buried under the clutter.

"can't be that easy, can it?” Stretch marveled. He picked it up the handset and held to his skull, then sighed unhappily. “nope. no dial tone, no surprise there, no one has a landline anymore. don’t you worry though, little phone.” Stretch gave it a soft pat. “you’re gonna be real useful in just a minute. seriously, this is just embarrassing. my first kidnapping attempt and they locked us in a room with an entire arsenal.”

“I must be missing the vendor in the corner willing to hand over gear if we do a mission for them,” Jeff joked weakly.

“everything is an arsenal if you’ve got the skills.” Stretch rummaged through the desk and came up triumphantly with…a paperclip? He set it on the desk, adding a pencil, some scotch tape, and what looked to Jeff like an old tube of superglue. “kidnapped by the ebott equivalent of the america’s dumbest criminals, fuck me. edge is going to be up my ass for a month.”

“I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.” It was easier to be calm in the face of Stretch’s ease. “I think six months is the bare minimum.”

“i really wish you weren’t right.” Stretch glanced around the room again, this time directing his gaze upward. “hm, that’ll work.” Tall as he was, the ceiling was still out of reach even for him. Stretch pulled one of the chairs over, ropes trailing behind it like tentacles, and stood on it, reaching for the smoke detector. Jeff could only blink in confusion as he yanked it right off the ceiling.

"You're going to burn down the building?” Jeff asked. Not that he didn’t trust Stretch, but, uh, that seemed extreme for a first escape attempt. “That’d get us out, but I don't think we'll be any more alive."

"nah, just need some parts,” Stretch jerked his head towards the door. “keep an ear on the hallway, will ya, in case they remember that leaving us alone is probably stupid."

“Got it.” Jeff went to the door but before he could press his ear to it, Stretch called his name.

"hey, kiddo, i'm gonna get us out of this." Stretch offered him a familiar, lopsided smile. "i know i don't look like much, but i've been known to keep my head in a bad situation."

"You already saved me once,” Jeff said honestly, "why wouldn't I believe you now?"

Stretch’s pale eye lights flickered with memory, his expression briefly tightening. How did he remember that horrible night in that parking lot, Jeff wondered, what nightmares haunted Stretch’s sleep? He knew something happened after the ambulance took him away, but he’d never heard the entire story. After he’d been released from the hospital, he’d been wrapped up in healing enough to start his new job at the Embassy and as time passed, he hated to ask, didn’t want to dredge it all up again, not when everyone was slowly getting past it. Besides, the others had their own shit to deal with, what with the attack in California and everything happening in Ebott. His trauma was his to handle and that was the end of it.

At the desk, Stretch got to work, humming the ‘mission impossible’ theme under his breath as he dissected the phone and smoke detector with a makeshift screwdriver made from a bent paperclip taped to a pencil. His hands were as deft and easy as any demonstration he’d done for the local kids and Jeff could only marvel at his ease.

“How can you be so calm?” Jeff blurted, wincing even as the words escaped. He hadn’t meant to say it, didn’t want to distract him. Stretch only flicked a glance his way, both browbones raised.

“me?” Stretch snorted, “i am not calm. beneath this gorgeous cookie crust exterior is a honey pie of a person who would start shitting themselves if i could grow the prerequisite equipment. but we're gonna be okay.”

“How do you know?” Jeff hated the faint pleading in his own voice, he shouldn’t be distracting; Stretch was as stuck here as he was and with his HP, it was even worse. He was supposed to be the one helping Stretch, he’d promised, and the best he could do was lookout.

“you seriously think red isn't already on it?” Stretch asked and as terrifying as Red could be, thinking about him right now eased some of the aching fear that was settled in Jeff’s stomach. “all he needs is a clue and we’re gonna get him one. i only hope he can keep edge from razing the city and salting the earth beneath it until then. people might be a little tetchy about that and i’m not even sure you can come up with a press release that’d cover ‘sorry about starting city-wide armageddon, my bad.’”

Before Jeff could think of a reply to that, either an agreement, or a protest that a little chaos could be excused considering the circumstances, he heard footsteps coming from down the hallway. Panicked, he hissed out, “They're coming!”

“fuck, okay, okay.” Stretch scrambled over and set some kind of contraption on the floor near the door that was all waggling wires and circuit boards. He grabbed Jeff by the wrist and dragged him along. “over here, come on, this a harder trick, but you can do it. i need you to hold as still as you can. if you move, they might see you, you get me?"

Jeff managed a hasty nod as Stretch shoved him into a corner, cramming them both in tight, out of the way. "don't move, don't talk,” Stretch reminded him, a low murmur close to his ear. The slim, bony arms around him were comforting and even knowing that Stretch couldn’t physically protect him, having him towering overhead as he caged Jeff against the wall felt oddly safe.

Then something happened. He didn’t know how to describe it. It felt like a heavy curtain fell over the world, everything going distant and muffled, even his vision greying like he was about to faint, only he’d never felt so awake. There was a sudden popping explosion as the door swung open and collided with Stretch’s contraption, but it sounded miles away, the kidnappers’ curses as muffled as if they were speaking from another world.

He didn’t move, held perfectly still even as that curtain slowly grew claustrophobic, nausea starting to churn. Jeff closed his eyes, swallowing convulsively and just went he thought he couldn’t stand it a moment longer, that he either needed to move or he’d start screaming, it was suddenly gone and Stretch was stepping back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Stretch was pale, sweat showing visibly on his skull. "are you okay?" Stretch asked.

“Me?” Jeff blurted. He caught hold of Stretch’s arms to brace him as he wobbled on his feet. “I’m fine, what about you!”

"i’ll be okay.” Stretch wiped his face on the sleeve of the crummy shirt he’d been forced into with a grimace. “i pulled us halfway into the void. it works, but it burns a lot of juice. the assholes booked it out of here, but more importantly, they left the door open."

The door was opened, they could leave, and yet, Jeff found himself blurting out, “They’ll get away!”

“no,” Stretch said grimly. “they’ll look for us first, thinking we couldn’t have gotten too far. these guys aren’t gonna ditch and run that fast, they know too much. think about it. drugs work on monsters but how do they know what kind and how much? lucky for me, skeleton monsters are different. our systems are finicky, we’re hard to drug. whoever tipped them off about how to roofie me didn’t know that.”

His sockets narrowed suddenly, Stretch turning away to look in the rusty cabinet next to them. “oh, honey,” he said gleefully, “jackpot.”

Jeff joined him, peering into the cabinet as Stretch cautiously wrenched it open. “What did you find?”

He held up a bottle of bleach and said, smugly, “just some nice, normal household chemicals. they can be lots of fun if you know how to mix 'em up and i'm a one hell of a bartender. but first.”

On the desk was another little contraption that was mostly wires and tape. Stretch picked it up and walked over to squat next to a wall outlet. Carefully, he pushed it into the socket. There was a sputtering spark and a tiny red light blinked to life.

“there we go.” Stretch stood, dusting off his hands. “i don’t even want to think about how pants-shittingly angry edge probably is right now, but we can’t let them get the ransom that asgore is probably going to pay and we sure as hell can’t let them get away.”

He grinned then, wickedly sharp for all that his teeth were blunt. “so, how’s about we have some fun, yeah?”

Jeff nodded determinedly. Fuck, yes. If he was going to add to his repertoire of nightmares, he was damn well going to make sure someone else paid for it, in spades.

tbc

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Sardines, or Professor Vargas is an Asshole

Another fic from someone who’s only half-read everything. Told in second person, starring a female Yuu.

Content warnings for coarse language, kidnapping, sexual harassment along the lines of Vargas being similar to Gaston, and being deeply, direly self indulgent.

As always, please let me know if you enjoyed it, I live and breathe for positive feedback.

You do not like Professor Vargas, and the feeling is mutual.

It wasn't like the almost amiable vitriol between you and Schonheit, which, while having its ups and downs, was usually at a level of shooting a few insults at each other in between whatever dorm prefect business had you talking to each other, and parting ways with a hair flip on his part and a rude hand guesture on yours. And hell, the other teachers seemed almost fond of you. Trein appreciated you passion for history, even if annoyed at your preference for layman-oriented literature, and would let you sound off about whatever strange bit of lore you'd recently found out, and even once down and listened very patiently as you tried to explain who Emperor Norton was before he said you needed to leave so he could mark papers. Crewel and you had reached an uneasy truce where he did not call you a puppy, and you did not start going "what happens when these go together" in potions class every time he called you that in protest. (You may be a bitch, but he certainly isn't allowed to imply it, even in the most roundabout of ways.)

But Vargas. Vargas hates your soft belly, your unwillingness to push yourself to the point of exhaustion, and most of all, he really, really hates that you're a girl that won't throw herself at his feet. You were trundling along at a swift walking pace on a broom, a mere few feet off the ground, when he stopped yelling at your classmates to pick on you instead.

"Too weak to do better than that?"

"I'm not magic. That I can do this at all is impressive." You're pointedly looking ahead, not looking at him jogging up beside you.

"You can go higher!"

"Professor," you say with barely contained irritation, "I am a beginner, and would much rather have the basics down before I attempt to turn myself into a fine paté from a hundred feet up."

He snorted. "Ashengrotto goes high; you can too."

"Azul's damn near in tears by the time he comes down because he didn't even have legs before a few years ago. He's not a good example."

Vargas, being a wretched asshole who should not be allowed to teach, instead tipped the end of your broom up. Only the broom shot into the air, you merely went ass-over-teakettle onto the grass, and stayed there because if you got up you would attempt to bite his nose clean off.

"Such poor balance! But I can fix that with some private lessons!" Oh, Christ. "You come by here after dark, I know all about teaching a girl how to ride -”

At that, you kicked him in the shin, and while he started back in pain, you shot up and started walking off the field, vibrating with the strength of your disgust.

"You can't hit a teacher! You'll regret this you stupid-" And you've picked up to a jog, because fuck if you were going to listen to that piece of shit try and pick up one of his own fucking students, what the actual fuck.

~*~*~*~

You relayed this whole mess across the supper table, afterwards, and your host was just as grossed out as you were.

"Keep an eye out next class," Azul said to you. "He holds a grudge."

"First hand knowledge?”

His silence was telling.

"You think I could get an exemption? Or like, permission to do a treadmill when everyone's out on a broom?"

"Who do you think you have to ask about all fitness-related things?" Azul had a faraway look that recalled war films. "It's not going to work.”

"What if I start skipping class?"

He gave you a look that could wither an evergreen. "Don't you dare, or he'll start picking on me again."

You shrugged. "Aight. I got three days to figure out what to do, then. You got any ideas?”

He folded his hands and rested his head upon them. "What would you pay?"

"No."

"Come on."

"What do I even have that you want?"

"I can think of a few things. The wave in your hair, or the gleam off your teeth."

"Because you need more curl to your hair."

"Someone might want to contract me for them."

"No. I got three days, Azul, we don't have to resort to your contracts.”

As it turned out, you did not have three days.

~*~*~*~

The next day's gym class was a motley bunch. Idia couldn't miss any more gym days this month, Lilia was doing his stretches, Floyd was... being Floyd, resulting in everyone who wasn't Rook giving him a wide berth, and Leona appeared to be skipping class and was therefore not present for the upcoming bullshit.

"Sorry I'm late!" Cater jogged in, cheery as sunshine though the clouds, and Idia rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't strain. "Laps today?"

"Vargas said we're doing Capture the Flag. Dunno how the teams'll go." Lilia was doing something complicated with his hands as he stretched his arms. "Kingscholar's absent, so they'll be uneven. And," he thumbed over at Rook, who was looking into the forest with the coiled intensity of a greyhound waiting for the rabbit to spring, "he's got an advantage, he knows the woods best."

"Yeah, but I've got unlimited data and a GPS." Cater patted his chest with a smile, the outline if his phone visibly through a pocket.

"Can't count on that for everything."

"Alright students!" yelled Vargas, strolling out of the woods with a bruise purpling one cheek. "Capture the Flag today. Use your brooms to navigate the forest, grab the flag, whoever brings it back gets the flag as a prize."

"It's in the forest, hanging from a pole in a clearing, you cannot miss it! All in white, too..." The professor brought up a little screen, showing off a live feed of his flag.

The flag, of course, was you, trussed up with rope and you legs hanging freely, still in last night's sleep shirt. Your voice came out, tinny from the speakers: "I did not consent to this, asshole."

The students were torn between looking at Vargas in shock, looking at the phone in shock, and muttering between themselves.

"Don't forget to have all the fun you want with the flag before you bring it back to me! When else will you get the chance?"

This just had everyone looking at each other with shifty-eyed suspicion.

"Every man for himself! Go get your prize!"

~*~*~*~

Vargas couldn't rig worth a damn. You're twenty feet in the air with just one rope suspending you, tied at the base with a simple knot. Everything hurt from chafing, you were cold, and you couldn't help but worry over what the hell was going to happen, depending on who found you. Vil still hadn't forgiven you for projecting a gorefest of a film across the walls of Pomefiore, so he might leave you to rot or use the situation to put a particularly vicious curse on you. Idia would probably drop dead of exhaustion after reaching you, leaving you both stuck. Floyd, well. As much as you enjoyed his company, it was like hand feeding a pet tiger; eventually he'll decide your hands tastes better, it's just a matter of when. You're running the numbers on most likely scenarios based on who shows up, when some twigs snap by the meadow's edge and you look towards a small "Hi."

Little ears! Little hands! Little all over, and looking up at you with curiousity as his tail swished. Chen'ya? No, no, other Ch- name. "Cheka! Hi, sweetie, honey, baby, can you get me down?" You'd already been here an hour and your hands were nothing but tingles.

"... Okay! Why're you up there?"

"Bad man," you say as he starts to tug at the rope. "You got it?"

He shook his head. "It's hard."

"Can you go get help, honey? Bring them back to get me down?"

He nodded. This was a big boy job, he could do it. "I'll get Uncle Leona."

Please don't, you thought to yourself, but instead said "Okay, please be quick, Cheka."

He started off towards the school, and you could have sworn he vanished before he actually hit the treeline.

~*~*~*~

He was only gone for a few minutes before you realized that you were starting to move. Turns out Cheka, despite being so small, had pulled enough at the rope before he left that the knot was unraveling.

"Oh shi-" is as far as you got before you're in freefall, and you yelped as you hit the ground feet first, wheezing. Fuck. You can barely move to survey the damage, because a certain asshole had put your hands behind your back, and every move made your ankles wail in pain. The only saving grace was that the ground was soft.

At least someone had landed by you, looking you up and down.

"... Hi, Yuu."

"... Hi, Lil."

Lilia pointed up. "You're supposed to be up there."

"Vargas was too busy trying to get upskirts to secure a fucking knot, apparently." You wince as he worked at the ropes. "My feet?"

"On the right way." You gritted your teeth and hissed as he prodded at them. "Both badly sprained, left worse than right. You're not walking out of here."

"Figured." You sat up and held your arms out. "Come on, old man, you're stronger than you look."

He was, but was too small to leverage you correctly.

"Can't you fly?"

"Yes," He said as he tried to balance you on the broom. 

"Then carry me.”

"You want me to drop you?"

"Nope."

"Do we just wait for the others?"

As if on cue, you heard distant yelling and what was maybe an explosion.  

"Yeah." Lil brightened, and snapped his fingers. "I saw a place, hold on."

Said place was either a nice treehouse or an okay deer blind, wide enough in the floor that you could lay flat out as he surveyed the damage. "This should be a good place."

"What the hell is going on out there?”

"Everyone's looking for you." Lil's settled crosslegged, with an amused smile. "Vargas said you're the prize, so everyone's trying to get here first. Isn't it good I found you? Who knows what they're planning."

You set your arm over your eyes and sighed. "Brave words from someone who's broken into my room more than once."

He shrugged. "You need looking after."

"De-organizing my things isn't looking after, you damned goblin."

He bristled. "I'm not a goblin."

"What is a goblin, Lilia."

"Small little fae who like to cause trouble."

"Exactly."

You couldn't see it, but you could feel the eye-roll.

~*~*~*~

It was five minutes at the most after that before Rook climbed in the door, looking so fresh-faced and joyful to see you it made you want to swat him. "Bonjour, my Trickster! You're living up to your name, hidden away!"

"Salut, Rook." You squinted at him. "You have first aid anything?"

"Hm," He said, prodding at your calf. "I have water, but these need wrapped."

"Give." Lilia took a sip of water before passing it to you. "The uniform denim won't tear easily-”

"Oh, we use this."

"Oh no you do not," You said as you tugged the hem of your sleep shirt from his hand. "No one here gets to see my underwear."

"I don't care about your panties, I care about this," he said as he brushed an ankle, making you jerk back. "It'll get worse if they aren't wrapped. There is fabric to spare.”

You huffed before you told him not to mention it to Vil, and between him and Lilia, you had two wrapped ankles and a dangerously short hemline. At least you'd actually put underwear on before Vargas decided to kidnap you, otherwise this would be a whole other level of distressing.

~*~*~*~

"You have a phone?"

Lilia pulled his from a hidden pocket. "You want to play Sweetie Scrunch?"

"No," You say as you take it from him and start flipping through his contacts. "I'm calling help."

It took him a whole three seconds before he realized who help was. "... Nope, nope, you're not getting Malleus involved, he will eat Vargas alive, we are not causing an international incident."

"Would you rather he find out after? And he knows how to heal." You'd already texted him a brief explanation one handed, the other keeping Lilia away.

"She is not wrong, monsieur... And it would be a delight to see him raise hell."

"See?" You gave Lilia a smile that would be very sweet if it wasn't full of the devil. "C'est bon."

~*~*~*~

Mal hurtled through the window so fast it was a miracle he didn't go clean through the far wall, before he was on top of you, fussing over his precious Child of Man.

"Mal, I am fine, please fix my -"

"Dreadful, simply dreadful." He was already working a prickly green light around your bruises. "And he did that, too?" he growled as he guestured to your ragged hemline."

"No, we did that to wrap my ankles. As much as I'd love to see it, we do not need to turn Vargas into - Mal. Mal. Put your clothing back-" He'd already managed to wrap you up in his green-trimmed uniform coat. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes I do." He already had you cradled in his lap, both arms around you in a vice grip. "You won't heal immediately, I must keep you safe until then.”

Lilia raised an eyebrow at him, but said nothing. You were about to ask, before a dreadful wheezing started up from outside, and familiar pale hands had the bottom of the doorframe in a vice grip. "Help."

"Shit, Idia! Get him in here before he falls!"

~*~*~*~

Idia looked downright grey in your arms as you tried to get him to drink some water. For someone who had the physical fortitude of an overboiled noodle, he'd pushed himself to his limits looking for you, and then some.

"You're okay? Full health?" Idia sounded horribly raspy, and you fussed over his scrapes as you picked half-charred twigs from his hair. He was too tired to protest you holding onto him in much the same manner Malleus was holding onto you.

"Bout three-quarters. Fifty before Mal got here." Idia's eyes flicked to just behind your left ear before he shrank back.

You turned your head around, and Mal gave you his sweetest you're-my-best-friend smile. You looked back at Idia, who was attempting to shrink into something microscopic, and then back at Mal.

"Play nice. He's my friend too." 

Mal turned his face as innocent as he could muster. "Whatever do you mean, my friend?"

"You know what I mean."

"I do not." He wasn't looking at your face anymore.

"Yes you do. And he's you're friend too-"

Idia raised one hand tentatively. "We only play Dragon-Kun with each other."

You guestured down at Idia, still looking at Mal, looking anywhere but you. "You love your Dragon-kun. And maybe," you say as you nudge Malleus's cheek, "If you made more friends than me, you wouldn't have to be jealous when I have other friends?"

Mal's pupils were so narrow as to be barely visible when he glanced out of the corner of his eye at you, but he nodded, and mumbled a very quiet apology as Idia faintly relaxed.

"Impressive. I haven't been able to do that in years."

"That's because you're his dad."

"Do you think anyone else will show up, my Trickster? It's getting cramped in here."

You looked around and considered. "I mean, probably."

~*~*~*~

"Sevens?"

"Go fish."

"And that's when they added a dance emote, but it cause a glitch so the top half of your body started to spin around while the bottom half went normally, which would be okay, but if you collide with a wall then you clip about a mile above the ground and die from fall damage, and when they went to fix that -"

There were eight people in the treehouse, and no room for more. Mal had you in his lap in a corner. Idia was gesticulating wildly as he talked about what you were sure was this universe's version of Fallout 76, tucked against you at an angle. Floyd insisted on you using his lap as a footrest while he, Lilia and Cater played card games with an ancient deck Lilia had produced from another pocket. (You were not certain that Floyd's guesture was innocent, since he kept poking at your toes until you said you'd take them away if he didn't stop.) Rook was skipping this round to keep an eye out the window. There was maybe a half foot total of floor showing. Despite the magic fired and fists swung earlier, as soon as everyone had realized that no one was running to your rescue simply to perform their own indignities, everyone had relaxed.

Overall, it was very cozy, and as long as you could keep Idia talking instead of realizing he was crammed in a tiny room with a whole bunch of people, you could stay here quite comfortably for ages. Your ankles were currently only sore, with twinges of more, no one was at each other's throats, and as long as no one else fucked shit up, you could wait out Vargas, go home, and think about how in the hell you can report a teacher at this school for harassment.

"Trouble's coming."

Ah, shit.

Trouble, unfortunately, had figured out where they were due to the cluster of broomsticks at the base of the tree, flew to the window, and started spewing bullshit.

"What are you all doing? You abandoned the game," and here he guestured towards you, "and didn't come back with the prize. None of you would know what to do with a girl if she begged you!"

What a piece of shit, and he couldn't even read a room with eight sets of eyes glaring murder at him. He was still talking, but you weren't paying attention. Instead, you drained the last of the water, wiped your mouth on your arm, and took a deep breath.

"Get his ass."

~*~*~*~

Everyone scattered after that, not ready to deal with the consequences of ganging up on their teacher, even if he thoroughly deserved it. Everything will be dealt with tomorrow, when you can put weight on your legs without your knees buckling. Mal was walking you out of the woods personally in a princess carry, when he stopped in place.

"See, she's down, you didn't have to bug me."

You'd completely forgotten that Cheka had gone to bug Leona for help. "It's been hours."

He ignored that. "Draconia. What would your grandma say?"

"Mal-"

"I would hope she would be proud of my helping a friend." He held his head high, and brushed by Leona without another word.

"Bye!"

"Bye Cheka." You waved back at Cheka before the two lions were out of sight.

~*~*~*~

"Mal, you know you could just take me to my dorm, right?"

"Someone should keep an eye on you until you are fully healed," he said as he pulled out a pair of silk pajamas.

"Which you could do at my dorm, instead of." You guestured to the hangings on his bed. "Here."

"It's far more comfortable here than your dorm."

"I'm not kicking you out of your bed, Mal."

"You're not in a state to argue." He set the pajamas beside you, before turning to face the wall.

"About that."

He did not move a muscle.

"I'm surprised you didn't just heal them outright."

Silence.

"I know perfectly well that you can. So why didn't you?"

He still said nothing.

"Be that way, Malleus. But you know that's not okay." You flung the remains of your shirt at him, managing to catch it on one horn. "If you want me to stay over, just say that instead of conspiring to keep me dependent for an evening."

He turned, pulling the cloth from his horns, before his eyes nearly popped from his head and he hurriedly turned back to the wall. "I... am not used to this."

"Neither am I. We're going to have to have a little talk about boundaries and healthy friendships. You can turn around now."

He did, you patted the side of his bed, and he joined you.

"How do you want to do this, Mal."

"I do not."

"Tough titty, said the kitty."

He raised an eyebrow.

"I know I'm the first real friend you've had. I've been on both ends of that. You know what happens when you cling real fucking hard to your friend, and try to isolate them because you don't wanna share?"

His face was a practiced mask of emotionlessness. "What is that?"

"They suffocate, and draw away because the intensity is way too much. And then no one's happy."

Mal frowned, but said nothing.

"I do want to be your friend. I like you. You're funny, you're deeply sincere, and you're still the same person I knew when I just called you Horned Boy. But I will cut this off if you try to isolate me. I do not want to, but I will have to. If you can't play nice with others, you don't get to play with me at all."

He's so clearly trying to hide his distress and irritation, but he could not help a sigh. "You are not wrong, Child of Man. And..." He looked away. "You won't live forever. Or be here forever, at that."

"I will not. You won't either, but like, you'll outlive me. Eggs in one basket, and all. Another reason to attempt to make more friends."

"Hm." He stretched out beside you, staring at the ceiling. "With who should I start? My reputation precedes me."

"Well," you smiled, "If I've learned one thing, forced proximity does wonders with forcing Idia to like you, and he's already somewhat used to you."

He smiled at the ceiling. "I do like him."

"Me too. You'd like his little brother."

"The creation?”

"Yeah. Look, I'll network for you with other people. And I'll make sure to invite you places."

"A promise?"

"Of course. Now, are you going to take me home, or put up with the rumours of keeping me in your room all night after beating up Vargas to get at me?"

"... Oh dear."

"Yeah."

After a moment, "... I am alright with the rumours."

You snorted. "You could just ask for a sleepover next time. Don't wait for an injury."

"I will ask."

"Make sure Sebek doesn't eat me in the morning."

"I would like to see him try." He gripped your closest hand and squeezed it.

"Me too."

You lay there a few moments, scary lonely dragon boy and strange lonely human kid, hand in hand.

"Do you have any tales from your home you could tell me?"

"Mostly ones you already kind of know."

"I would still like to hear."

Even a dragon wants a bedtime story, it seems.

[yodawgiherd]

You Were Never Truly Gone ch.6

>>>Read on AO3<<<

More plotting, because I want to finish this before I run out of steam ;< Enjoy! (hopefully)

When Mikasa walked the streets of the city, the tension was thick in the air. It was the same when she was here with Annie, helping her out with wedding preparations. Dark looks, posters, groups of Yeagerists hanging out on corners. Despite herself, Mikasa’s lips pulled into a tight line.

This is not what Eren died for, to have a militaristic group twist his ideals.

It got better when she neared the Hizuru embassy, one of the last bastions still protected by the soldiers from the foreign country. They saluted when Mikasa came close, the captain addressing her right away.

“Lady Ackerman, we were expecting you.”

“Is Kiyomi here?”

A curt nod.

“She is waiting for you.”, he took a step backward, “If you would follow me, please.”

Allowing herself to be lead through the winding corridors, Mikasa was soon ushered into a room with the clan’s crest at the door. Kiyomi was in her office, sitting behind a large table, standing up when they entered. Dismissing the soldier, who gave them a last salute before disappearing, the pair was left alone.

Taking a seat, Kiyomi gestured for Mikasa to make herself comfortable.

“I hope that your journey wasn’t too perilous.”, the older woman said.

“The city is on the brink,”, she replied without any wrappings, “and it’s because of you.”

“Maybe so, but if I understood your letter correctly that will change...”, Kiyomi tilted her head to the side as she studied her, “Am I wrong?”

“No, that’s am I here.”

With that, Mikasa took a deep breath and began laying her cards on the table.

“I have exactly three conditions before I agree to go with you.”

So close. Kiyomi was so close that she could taste the victory on her lips. Four years it took her, but now the Shogun’s blood was agreeing to finally take her rightful place, and the woman would do anything to get her.

Anything.

Hiding her excitement behind a dignified professional mask, Kiyomi gave Mikasa a nod.

“I’m sure that if those are within reason, we can come to an agreement, lady Mikasa.”

“First – you will renew your support of queen Reiss.”, the raven began.

This much Kiyomi anticipated and was willing to agree on.

“Very well.”

“Second – when we arrive at Hizuru, I want to be immediately shown to the people. Parade through the city would be ideal, maybe followed up by a meeting with the ruling council?”

Now Kiyomi had to bite her inner cheek not to frown. Her plan was to smuggle Mikasa in, and then present her at the next council meeting as an Ace. This move that she demanded wasn’t what the old woman wanted but then again…

The most important thing is that Mikasa Ackerman was coming home, and it was her – Kiyomi Azumabito - who brought her.

“Fine, I agree. And the last thing?”

Mikasa tapped her finger against the table.

“Third – I want someone to come with me. A dear friend of mine, who also lost everything in the war and is looking for a fresh start.”

Now Kiyomi got suspicious. A friend that Mikasa had to have with her? As far as she knew, her dearest friend was the blond man, Armin Arlert, and that one would definitely not come to Hizuru. He was traveling all over the world for his diplomatic assignment, chaining himself to one place made no sense. What if….

Mikasa was alone for a long time, she lost someone very dear to her, maybe she found a rebound in someone? A man or woman she could confine in, one she could share things with. Maybe even her bed?

“Tell me, is this friend a lover of yours?”, Kiyomi straight up asked.

Damn, that was fast.

“Would that be a problem?”, Mikasa countered, meeting the older woman’s eyes.

Now Kiyomi was the one tapping the table, thinking.

Was it a problem? The Shogun was expected to have concubines, but his wife….

Then again, his wife would be a war hero and the last descendant of the bloodline. Kiyomi’s triumph was bound to be tainted a little bit if she shipped Mikasa with plus one in a single serving, but it was manageable.

“No, it’s fine.”, she said out loud, “Your husband will most definitely have other women, so It is only fair for you to have someone to take care of your pleasure. As long as you keep certain limitations in mind, of course.”

“Such as?”

“You must appear by the Shogun’s side at any official event, you must never be seen by the public with your lover, and most importantly…” Kiyomi raised a finger, “You must give the Shogun an heir.”

“Is that so…”

“Of course. A boy would be ideal, but we could make even a girl work. You see, I’m not stupid enough to ask you to love the man you will marry, yet I must ask you to share his bed a few times until you get pregnant.”

Kiyomi spread her hands.

“You can spend as much of your free time as you want with your lover, he can sleep with you every night when you are not attending the Shogun’s needs. Your husband must always come first – understand?”

She gave Mikasa something that Kiyomi hoped was an encouraging smile.

“As soon as you are pregnant with his child, I promise that he will leave you alone. If you wish it so.”

“How do you know?”

“I picked the boy myself, he is a son of a very influential house and not a bad man at all. Good-looking, courteous, he will respect you, admire you maybe. You are a hero, after all.”

“I have one more question – is your staff the same you had when you first came to Paradis?”

A strange one indeed, but if Mikasa wanted to know…

“No, I have to change my whole group about once a year. This job is not exactly popular back home, so people do not stick around.”

“I see.”

“Any reason why you asked?”

A tiny smirk appeared on the raven’s lips.

“Not really, I was just curious.”

“So is everything to your satisfaction then?”

“It is.”, Mikasa stood up, “Let me know when the details of my transport are finalized.”

“Of course. See you soon then, lady Mikasa.”

Negotiations done, she left the office with a new hope blooming in her chest. Maybe this thing would work after all.

The packing felt unreal if Mikasa was being honest. She was leaving the cabin where she kind of expected to stay forever in. Instead of that, she and Eren were filling boxes with stuff, deciding what to take and what to leave behind.

Sometimes, they disagreed on these matters.

“You can’t be serious about leaving Yams,”, Eren protested upon hearing her intention, “How could you be so cruel.”

“Babe, it’s a goat.”

“No, it’s The Goat.”

Carefully, she massaged her temples, watching as Eren hugged the animal.

“Just look at her.”

“I am looking, and please don’t forget that Yams is for some reason always watching when we…”, a slight blush entered her cheeks, “do things.”

“C’mon, you know that she doesn’t mean anything bad by it.”, he rubbed the goat behind the ears, “Do you, Yamsy?”

“I…”

Sensing her doubts, Eren let go of the goat and wrapped Mikasa in a hug instead, rocking her from side to side.

“Pretty please.”, he whispered against her hair.

Yams, on the other hand, was saying nothing, simply staring at the pair. As always.

But it felt so nice when Eren held her, and Mikasa couldn’t bring herself to say no to him.

“Okay, fine.”

The celebratory kiss that Eren gave her didn’t even feel that good, because she knew that Yams is watching again, the gaze drilling into the back of Mikasa’s head.

In an effort to conceal his identity a bit, Eren grew out a beard and Mikasa kept his hair in a short undercut. Eren Yeager was most known as a long-haired clean-shaven maniac, so this would help. Far from perfect, of course, as anyone who truly knew him would see right through that, luckily there weren’t many of such individuals in Hizuru.

She gave the cabin keys to Niccolo, who promised to take care of it. They met in front of Sasha’s grave and neither of them held back on the tears, freely spilling and drenching Mikasa’s scarf.

“Don’t forget to visit Sasha for me.”, Mikasa pushed through the tears, “Tell her that I’ll be thinking about her.”

“Of course,”, he nodded solemnly, “I’ll visit Eren too, don’t worry.”

It took her a second and Mikasa had to mentally slap herself for it. Eren was dead to the world, she had to keep the act up, no matter how hard it was considering that just this morning she woke up with his arms tightly coiled around her stomach.

It also reminded her of the strange sickness she felt in the morning, but it was probably nothing serious. The stress, she reasoned, the moving and all were taking a toll on her body.

“Leave some flowers on his grave from time to time. He likes that.”

“Will do.”

They shared a last hug, and then Niccolo was pulling back, a watery smile on his lips.

“Take care of yourself, Mikasa, I’ll miss you.”

The original plan was to leave quietly, disappear from the island one day without any further ado, but this was changed when Mikasa visited Historia.

“Please, make it official,”, the queen was saying, “If you leave like that, I’m sure that the Yeagerists will twist it against me. Something along the lines that I sold you to Kiyomi, that you were forced to go against your will.”

Mikasa, who was rocking Ymir on her lap, frowned, and not because of the child that was trying to eat her long hair. Looking left and right, she made sure that they are alone before dropping her voice into a whisper.

“We can’t exactly have a celebration, you know, not when Eren is…”

“I know, I know, I don’t want Eren to show himself, I just want you to make a show. He can sneak on the boat for all I care, but you – you are important.”

She grasped Mikasa’s hand a bit tighter.

“Do it for me.”

Well, one does not say no to the queen herself.

“All right, your way it is then.”

The boat arrived with a load of Hizurian soldiers, who very quickly took positions all around the city. Walking through it now, the atmosphere was no longer so tense, and people weren’t afraid of being on the streets anymore. The Yeagerists were forced to retreat for now, taking their aggression and posters with them.

As agreed, Eren, or the random “friend” as the others knew him, was sneaked on the board beforehand alongside Yams with no big fuss. Kiyomi was busy with Mikasa and no one else could identify the man, the Hizurians had no idea that it was the devil himself who was now hiding in the cargo hold.

Mikasa didn’t have such an easy exit. Dressed in her old uniform and put on a pedestal, she couldn’t help but feel nervous about all this sudden attention. People were looking at her, cheering or staring angrily. Her exit was either understood as a patriotic act to help the Island or a betrayal and desertion, depending on who you asked.

She had to give a short speech, saying that she will always remember Paradis and the people here, but that she is finally going home. Kiyomi gave one too, talking about how this will strengthen the bonds between Hizuru and the island. Historia had the last one that didn’t say much apart from the classic uplifting words.

She was getting good at being a politician.

Some handshakes later and a teary hug from the queen, Mikasa was good to go. Ymir was crying again, upset because auntie Mikasa is leaving, but sadly the world didn’t care for the needs of one child. A few minutes later the war hero of Paradis, Mikasa Ackerman, was leaving her old home behind and sailed towards Hizuru. The island shore was slowly bure surely becoming smaller as she watched on, hands gripping the railing.

This was happening.

Kiyomi appeared next to her, the smile of a satisfied cat on her face. She got everything she wanted, so Mikasa supposed that the old woman was on cloud nine right now.

“You have to introduce me to that secret “friend” of yours.”, Kiyomi said, “The sailors who helped him board are all saying that he’s a very nice young man. Handsome too.”

She nudged Mikasa lightly.

“Good choice.”

If she only knew.

“Thanks.”, Mikasa replied flatly, “I’ll go get him then.”

She had to stop and ask for directions a few times, as the boat was quite big, yet in the end Mikasa managed to locate and enter the cargo hold. Eren was sitting next to Yams, talking about something with the goat, yet when she appeared he stood up instead, a huge smile on his face.

“We made it.”, he said, but Mikasa shook her head.

“Not yet. Now we must hope that Kiyomi won’t try throwing you into the ocean.”

“She wouldn’t risk upsetting you.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Well..”, Eren reached out, taking her hand, “I trust you with my life.”

Squeezing his fingers between hers, Mikasa returned his uncertain grin.

“Let’s get to it then.”

Kiyomi was still at the place where Mikasa left her, staring into the distance with a dreamy look on her face. In her mind she was probably back at Hizuru already, receiving all the commendations for bringing the Shogun’s blood back. As they drew near she turned towards them.

“Finally I get to see that mysterious man who captured lady Mikasa’s heart. Introduce us?”

Mikasa swallowed, ignoring the hammering of her heart. This was one of the riskier parts of her plan, one where she had to hope that Kiyomi won’t act in an unpredictable way.

“Of course.”, she nudged Eren forward, “This is Aaron, my best friend and partner. Aaron, this is Kiyomi Azumabito.”

“Aaron is it?”, Kiyomi took a step closer, “Let me take a look at you…”

Heart racing to match Mikasa’s, Eren raised his head to meet the old woman’s gaze.

Sun flashed in those green emeralds and Kiyomi stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening and mouth falling open with a single word.

“No.”

[sevenstarsinning]

Summary: Raditz loses his mate when Planet Vegeta is destroyed and finds himself working alongside Prince Vegeta. When he comes to Earth to recruit his brother, he’s dealt another devastating blow when Goku refuses to join and leaves him near death. He’s found by a human and attempts to adapt to life on Earth.

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4

Chapter 5

Morning dew coated the outside of the pod and birds chirped on the tree branch nearby. It was way too cheery for early morning. Being awake at that time usually meant you either couldn't sleep at all or woke up long before you should have.

That morning you woke up too early but it was entirely Raditz's fault and you were more than okay with that.

Sometime during the night he wrapped his tail around your waist and pulled you up to sleep on his chest. That was where you woke up and that's where you remained, listening to him purr while his body heat kept you warm. The rise and fall of his chest was like a gentle rocking putting you completely at ease. That was no easy feat and there he was making you feel safe and content without even trying.

You lifted your head up to see he was awake. It felt like a kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttered in your stomach when you realized something was different.

"You're awake... and you're still purring."

His eyes locked onto yours and the butterfly feeling spread to your chest and throat leaving you seconds from saying something you probably shouldn't say.

"I'm comfo-"

"You're beautiful," you blurted. Your eyes widened and you let out a nervous laugh.

His brow raised in surprise, mouth slightly ajar. For a moment, you expected him to push you over to your side of the pod.

Instead, he smiled and struggled to keep his eyes on yours. He was nervous and you had no idea why.

"I've been called many things but uh... that's a new one," he finally said, breaking the anxiety inducing silence between you.

"Was that a bad thing to say?" You asked, unable to hide the worry in your voice and on your face.

"No, not bad at all. Just new."

When you saw the smile that spread across his face, you realized making a complete fool of yourself in front of him didn't bother you at all. In fact, you were willing to let it happen more just to see that smile. It was like a potent dose of serotonin and you needed more.

"I think I have a solution to our housing problem," you revealed, changing the subject to avoid doing something incredibly stupid.

His tail tightened around your waist and you knew he wasn't letting you up anytime soon.

Later that day, you and Raditz embarked on your first journey away from the house together. He usually stayed back when there were errands to run or groceries to buy. He wasn't a small guy by any stretch of the imagination and walking side by side with him downtown drew the gaze of many people passing by. It wasn't just his size that made people take notice, it was also his gorgeous mane of black hair that nearly touched the ground and his bulging muscles stretching the material of his t-shirt and jeans. It was Raditz in general, all the way down to the way he carried himself and the air of confidence he seemed to be naturally gifted with.

"This is definitely the place," you said, opening the door to a white dome shaped building.

Raditz shuffled in behind you, almost filling the doorway completely. A purple haired girl with the Capsule insignia on her shirt approached.

"Welcome to the Capsule store, my name is Lynn. Is there anything I can help you find?"

Her eyes drifted over to the huge saiyan next to you. He tilted his head, curious about her. Then it struck you, Raditz had little to no experience around other humans.

"Yeah, my house was half demolished when a... plane crashed into it." You knew exactly how ridiculous it sounded but saying a space pod carrying a hot alien crash landed on your house was out of the question.

"Was it a... an alien ship?" Lynn asked, glancing up at Raditz.

"How do you know that, human?" He said, stepping closer to the much smaller human.

"My boyfriend- " Before she could finish her sentence, an alarm blared and red lights flashed overhead. The ceiling opened up but before you could see what was happening, the tail tucked under Raditz's shirt flung out and coiled around your waist, pulling you safely behind him.

"You're supposed to be dead!" A voice called out amidst the chaos.

You peeked around Raditz to see an entire row of artillery from the ceiling aimed at him. A teal haired woman standing on the other side glared, not the least bit intimidated.

"Hey, can you get the insane security to stand down, he's not going to hurt anyone," you yelled back, waving your hand.

"Is that... is that a human behind you?" The woman asked, trying to get a better view.

"Help me out, big guy, your tail won't let me go," you said. Your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest. Everything happened so fast you barely had time to react.

"And put you in harm's way? No, you stay back there, this is Kakarot's friend," Raditz growled.

"Wait... you mean Goku?" Lynn said from behind a shield that went up around her automatically.

"Raditz, calm down. They haven't attacked, we can talk to them," you whispered. It was hard to hide the panic in your voice over the predicament you found yourself in.

"Human, where is Kakarot?" Raditz asked, turning his attention to Lynn.

"Enough!" The other woman shouted. "If you promise to keep him on a leash, I'll disarm security."

"Raditz, please?" You begged, lightly scratching the back of his head to soothe him.

He let out a little growl and loosened his tail. "Fine."

The red lights retracted along with the row of weapons and disappeared into the ceiling.

"All I have to do is hit one button and those will come back out, so don't try anything," the woman said, approaching him without a trace of fear.

"I'm Bulma, I'm assuming you're the one taming the saiyan?" She stepped around him to look at you.

"Trying to," you laughed nervously. Raditz still had his tail around you, protecting you even without an immediate threat.

"Come on, let's go out back and talk. Lynn, close up and go home. Make sure Goku knows about this," Bulma said, giving out orders as she guided you and Raditz towards the back of the dome.

The back door led to a shaded patio with a row of tables and thick, beautiful foliage lining the sides to offer privacy to anyone sitting out there.

"Raditz can sit there," Bulma said, pointing at the first table, "we're going to the back table."

"No, I'm staying with her," he snapped, his tail coiling tight around your waist again.

"It's okay, big guy. I'm safe, this is like the smartest and richest woman in the world," you said, nodding towards Bulma. He eyed her wearily but relented and loosened his hold.

You gave him a reassuring smile before following her to the last table.

"Sorry about the security system in there, it's not even loaded with ammo, it's just a deterrent. What did you come in for?" Bulma asked, taking a seat at the last round white table.

"A house. His pod wrecked mine when he landed. We've actually been sort of living in his pod and it's not very roomy," you explained.

Bulma was unfazed by all of it and that piqued your curiosity.

"You've been sleeping in the pod with him? Has anything happened?" She leaned in and kept her voice low.

"Not really. It was a little rough at first but he's adjusting," you said in a hushed voice.

"That's good. He's definitely a lot less hostile than I remember." She glanced past you at Raditz. You could tell her mind was racing, sorting through the chaos that just came back into her life.

The two of you talked for a while, you filled her in on Raditz and she told you about Goku and the little bit she knew about saiyans. You were looking forward to meeting him at some point and even though it was a long shot given the history, maybe Raditz and Goku could at least talk. That could be a step towards him finding happiness on Earth.

"I'll make you deal. If you keep an eye on him and tell me if anything weird happens, I'll give you a capsule house." She said it like she was giving you a piece of cake as opposed to a whole house.

"Bulma, no. That's way too much, let me pay," you countered.

She reached in her pocket and pulled out a handful of capsules. "How many bedrooms were you thinking?"

"Just one, that's all I can really do at the moment."

She settled on a pink capsule and placed it on the table in front of you. "That's a three bedroom. It's one of the models we used for photos so it's fully furnished and you're not paying for it."

"Bulma, you don't even know me. I-"

"Your saiyan back there came to Earth to recruit Goku. The only reason he's here is because of my friend which means your house is gone because of this. It's the least we can do for you," she said, pushing the capsule closer.

"And remember, call me immediately if anything feels off with him, okay? This is a direct line to me," she said, passing a business card to you with the Capsule logo shimmering on the top left corner and a phone number scrawled across the bottom.

"At least let me pay you something for this, please?" You pleaded with her.

"Absolutely not. Just come to my next party, I’ll introduce you to Goku," she said, refusing to take no for an answer as she headed back inside the building.

On your way back to the car, Raditz remained silent. There was no good way to approach the subject of his brother. That had to be weighing on him.

"What's that place?" He finally spoke, pointing towards the small building on the other side of the road.

"It's a bar. One of my favorites actually," you replied, coming to a stop at a four way intersection.

"What's a bar?"

"A place where people usually drink strong tasting liquids that make them feel funny."

"Strong liquids?" He raised an eyebrow and sat forward just enough to see past his hair which had taken up residence between the two of you.

"We call it alcohol. It's how I ended up in that field the night I found you."

"Libations. That's what we called them."

Instead of continuing straight through the intersection, you made a quick left followed by a right and pulled into the parking lot.

You entered the old, dimly lit bar with Raditz in tow. The evening crowd was starting to trickle in.

Raditz found a table while you ordered drinks. You leaned back against the bar while you waited, watching him mess with the phone you gave him. It looked so small in his hands and he looked adorable navigating what he called primitive technology.

After very carefully walking back to your table, you sat a tray full of drinks in the middle and pulled out a chair.

A big, strong arm wrapped around your waist and the next thing you knew, you were sitting in Raditz's lap. You were already so used to cuddling with him in the pod that you didn't think anything of it.

As the day turned to night, you introduced Raditz to all of your favorite drinks and even some you didn't like just to see his reaction. Aside from trips back to the bar to order more drinks, he kept you in his lap with an arm around your waist.

He required a ton of alcohol to even get a buzz and you were content sipping and never getting totally drunk. One of you had to stay a little sober to avoid bad decisions.

"What is this one?" Raditz asked, holding up a pint glass of blue liquid.

"That is your last drink of the night, big guy." You grabbed it and took a quick sip before handing it back.

"It's called... last drink of the night?" He stared at the glass, confused by the weird name.

"It's called an Adios Motherfucker."

"Say that again but... slower," he said with a big goofy smile. Drunk Raditz wasn't too different from the sober version. The thing you noticed the most was the sadness in his eyes. You watched it slowly fade until it was gone completely. His smiles lit up his entire face and he laughed louder.

"Can I have another one of these?" He asked, holding up his empty glass.

"Dude, I've already had to drag you to my house once, we're not doing that again," you chided.

"Human... sweetheart- just one?" He stuck out his bottom lip and pouted.

"Human sweetheart. That's a new one," you laughed, shaking your head at how ridiculously cute he was.

You relented and bought him one more drink. The expensive bar tab made you feel sick but it was worth every penny to see him finally shed the darkness that enveloped him. Even if it was only for a night.

As soon as the chilly night air hit your face, you regretted not bringing a jacket.

"Saiyan, give me your warmth," you said, ducking underneath his massive arm.

"We not driving?" He asked, lifting you into his arms like a child.

"I've had one too many drinks." You buried your face against his neck and settled in for the walk home. Luckily it wasn't far and you liked getting carried by Raditz, especially with his hands on your ass to hold you up.

"You smell good," he said in a sleepy voice as you neared your half destroyed house.

"You can still smell my perfume? I figured that would've faded by now."

"No... not that," he muttered, burying his face against your neck to sniff you. If it was anyone else, you probably would've freaked out.

"Your scent, the normal one."

You pulled back and smiled. “Wait, do you have some kind of heightened sense of smell that I don’t know about?”

“Yeah, it’s a saiyan thing. We can pick up on scents and changes in scents we’re familiar with. Particularly with females we’re close to or want to be close to.”

He crossed the lawn to the backyard and lowered you to the ground. “How does this capsule thing work?”

You pulled it from your pocket, clicked the small button and tossed it approximately where you wanted your new house to be.

“Holy shit, Bulma,” you said in awe of the beautiful house she gave you. It was far too much and you were already trying to figure out ways to pay her back. You and Raditz explored the house briefly before calling it a night, exhausted from the day.

You tossed and turned even though the new bed was the most comfortable thing you had ever laid on. The temperature in the room was perfect and it was dark enough, but something still wasn't right.

You knew what it was but you didn't want to acknowledge it. Lines had already been crossed on multiple levels with your unexpected roommate. You shared the pod out of necessity, nothing more.

Minutes ticked by and you only seemed to get less sleepy. You finally got annoyed enough to get out of bed and go to the living room, but you didn't make it there. You ran straight into a wall of saiyan at the end of the hallway.

"Holy shit! What the hell are you doing out here?" You stepped back and saw him carrying a glass of water.

"I can't sleep so I got a glass of water. That a crime, you tiny pain in the ass?" He asked with a little smirk.

"No, it's not a crime, you giant pain in the ass," you said in a mocking tone.

"Can I sleep with you?"

You knew he meant actual sleep, but your brain processed it in a different way entirely and it left your panties wet.

"Sure," you said, against your better judgement.

He followed you back to your room and walked around to the other side of the bed while you got back under the covers on your side. He laid down and turned on his side to face you.

"Bedroom not comfy enough?" You asked, scooting closer to him. He draped his arm over you and started to fade right away.

"Not that... just didn't have you," he said before drifting off to sleep.

You were wide awake until he started purring, head rested against your shoulder. It didn't matter how much you tried to fight off the feelings you were having for him, they weren't going away. The last thought you had before you finally fell asleep was the realization that you needed Raditz by your side to fall asleep.

A loud crash outside made the entire house shake. Raditz was up in the blink of an eye checking the window to see what it was. His tail fluffed up and moved wildly behind him.

You scrambled out of bed to look for yourself but there was nothing, just the backyard.

"What's wrong, big guy? Are you seeing something I'm not?"

"I need you to stay behind me and if anything happens to me, run," he said, effectively scaring the hell out of you.

"What? You can't just say that with no explanation! What's going on?" Your anxiety skyrocketed as he moved past you to head towards the living room.

"Raditz- "

"Behind me," he snapped.

Before you could protest, the front door was kicked completely off the hinges and left in a mangled heap on the floor. A tall, muscular guy with short, spiky black hair walked in. One eye was covered with some kind of device you had never seen.

"This is what you've been doing, huh? There's something incredibly wrong about a domesticated Saiyan," the man said with a cocky grin.

A shorter man stepped in behind him, black hair shooting towards the sky like small spires. He also had the same device covering one of his eyes and he somehow looked even more intimidating than the bigger one.

"Prince Vegeta, Turles," Raditz said, giving them each a nod.

[infinites-chaser]

watch the universe expand | mlqc | lucien/mc | a character study disguised as fic

spoilers for ch.13 and random stuff from following chapters

warning for non-graphic discussion of violence and some themes that may be disturbing/triggering re:human experimentation

The call comes as it always does, not quite like  clockwork, in the small hours of the night, when he imagines the stars  have reached their zenith in the sky, done with their rise, ready for  their coming fall.

"Lucien?"

"What is it? Can't sleep?"

"Can you tell me a story?"

The call comes as it always does, not quite like clockwork, in the small hours of the night, when he imagines the stars have reached their zenith in the sky, done with their rise, ready for their coming fall.

"Lucien?"

He chuckles, colors only she can bring out of him warming his tone.

(He thinks her voice at this time of night is what violet would look like, at least as the poets describe it, a light in the dark, the first soft edge of dawn as night gives way to day.)

"What is it? Can't sleep?"

(He wonders sometimes what color his voice is to her. Black, perhaps. Possibly grey.

He can't imagine his voice having any real color, not even to her.

He'd be surprised at the truth. To her, he's more than color, he's light.)

"Lucien?" she repeats instead of a straight answer. "Can you tell me a story?"

It's a routine they've fallen into ever since the first unfinished  one, what he'd told her about the artist and the butterfly that felt too  true to be called a bedtime story but he'd been loath to admit to  himself that it was more.

Every sleepless night, she asks for another story and manages to fall asleep before the finish.

Every night they spend on opposite sides of a shared wall, he  questions a little more of his soul, the feelings that lie within, and  finds he doesn't have any answers.

Perhaps he doesn't want to find them.

Eventually her reactions— quiet oohs and ahhs and gasps and the occasional question— always fade into nothing but quiet,  even breathing, and it's like he's been let off the hook but he never  hangs up, or at least, not for a long moment more.

"Lucien," she'd mumbled once, when the first rays of light had just cleared the horizon. "Is the story over?"

Somewhere between exams and sips of white tea, lulled into a  temporary peace by the gentle rhythm to her breaths, he'd nearly  forgotten she'd been on the line.

Still, he'd managed to keep the surprise from his reply.

"You just missed the ending."

There'd been a long silence, nearly long enough that he'd thought she'd fallen asleep again, and he could hang up, off the hook, but—

"Was it a happy ending? It's okay if I missed it, just as long as it was happy."

"...It was."

She'd made a noise of satisfied incoherence in response, and he'd  taken the opportunity to wish her a good morning, prescribe her a few  hours more of sleep, apologize, then hang up.

(He still wonders about that fuzzy morning, that long night.

If she would've questioned him more if she weren't so tired. About the story’s ending. About the length of the call.

If he would've answered. If he would've lied.)

"A story?" He repeats now, settling in the corner of his living room he knows will be closest to her.

Scientifically, he knows it isn't possible, humans simply don't have the body temperature— but he fancies he can feel her warmth, even through the wall.

Perhaps it's a trait of the Queen's gene, previously unexplored. And, well, he wouldn't be opposed to testing that hypothesis, but we digress.

It's clear as day, or, at least, as clear as a monochrome day can ever be: there's something more.

Something that catches on a corner of his heart when she makes a quiet 'un' of assent and clears her throat, the sound, tinny as it is through the  phone speaker, vivid enough for him to picture. Her hand pressed to her  mouth. Her smile, after. The crescent moons of her eyes.

"Not any story, though. Tell me about Evol again?"

Then, at his silence: "Please?"

(Irrational thoughts rise, unbidden. He'd do anything for that word from her lips. Fight an army. Raze a city.

He'd live by it,

die by it,

and at the end of the day, he still wouldn't deserve it.)

"What do you want to know?" He asks, but to his ears, it sounds like I'd tell you anything.

She hums in thought, a butterfly floating light in the breeze.

"Why do people have the Evol they have? I don't want the science, not really."

Her voice trails off, comes back stronger,

"I want your honest opinion, Lucien. Tell me why?"

and it sounds less like a question, but not quite yet a command.

He chuckles, then obliges.

Time crawls by, soft and slow, a steady seamstress stitching together  unexpected, lingering thoughts. At his words, quiet intense musings  picking at open seams and pulling at loose threads, the universe between them unspools.

Why do people have particular Evols? To answer that question, we have to first understand why people have any form of differing traits.

Biology says, at first glance, chance. A freak gene mutation on a  chromosome of interest: deep within relevant coils of DNA, an A-T  pairing shifts to an A-G. Maybe it’s deleted altogether.

('That's not very romantic,' she comments with a barely stifled yawn.

He chuckles, soft, indulgent.

'You're right. I'm sorry. You did ask for a story, after all.'

He continues.)

But. That’s not all, not when evolution’s taken into account. The  idea of natural selection has been radically transformed by its  representation in popular media to be some strange justification for the  hierarchy of society (in a quite underhanded fashion, he thinks,  keeping the poor down and beaten as if it were their natural place,  allowing the rich to get only richer as if nature and not trust funds  had secured their positions on the top of the pyramid of life. Only life  isn’t a pyramid. Not a tree, either. Not quite. More like a story,  perhaps. But he digresses.) In reality, in biology and in nature, it's  much less simple.

The theory of natural selection, at its most bare bones, is, yes, survival of the fittest. Just that ‘fittest’ doesn’t mean strongest, most cruel or most cunning, doesn’t even mean  kindest or most caring. It means nothing, really, outside of context.

Very biologically speaking, ‘fittest’ implies the organism  reproduces with the most success when compared to others in its given  environment. Traits caused by random mutations that help an organism  survive in a particular environment long enough for it to have offspring  are passed on. And if the environment stays the same, the same traits  will be favored and passed on, over and over again across and through  generations, coming to define a species and the role that species plays in the world.

Clearly, it doesn’t mean much in that sense for humans anymore. What is our ‘fit’? Perhaps we've broken free of the chain of evolution, and now lounge atop the dogpile, above the fray. Triumphant. Stagnant.

Because even though maybe we've been running as fast as we can,  evolution's never more than one step behind. What's a generation of  progress in a millennium? No more than the barest breath caught in the  endless march of time.

No, evolution still very much has us in its clutches and these days,  he wonders what it would take for humanity to realize it, as complacent  as we are— there are certain traits favored, personality and looks, but  beyond that, beyond the biology, even, isn't there more? Something we  want most in the world we live in, our given environment. What a person needs  most, forever strives for, what'll allow them to flourish in their  environment enough to have a legacy and know some part of them continues  to live on.

To meet that need would be to finally surpass evolution, unlock a new  humanity, create a new world. The Red Queen, running rampant, running  free.

(But first, Evol. The key.)

There are three theories on the nature of Evol. This is the first.

The Theory of Superhumans had been put forward by a scientist over a  century ago, through a series of research studies, his articles full of academic terms like intensive accelerated artificial selection, induced heritable genetic variation, changes in gene expression in an adverse environment, followed by the thesis, spelt out in plain words: under the right conditions, a human can develop superhuman abilities.

It had been heralded as a theory for the ages, for the books, sure to  stay with and shape the course of humanity's advancement for centuries to come— only, we know the rest.

Each term, carefully clinical, couched the horror of the truth: the  scientist, name now scrubbed from history, willfully lost in time, had  thought to try to create superhumans— the Evolved, he'd dubbed them— by  gathering unsuspecting participants, then putting them through several  trials meant to push the limits of humankind, to unlock some secret  extra ability, to finish our ode to survival of the fittest, its beginnings scrawled in the letters of our genes.

'The right conditions' had meant mortal peril. The trials had been worse than torture. Almost all the participants had died.

The surviving four (out of over nine hundred, making the success rate  of the experiment less than half of a tenth of a percent) had been sworn to secrecy while the scientist (the madman) had been  sentenced to an execution, his underlings thrown in jail, his research condemned, labelled a crime against humanity and a failure, his papers all burned.

Only, if the research had been a failure, one might wonder, why the burning of the papers? A message? Don't try this again. It was a failure. Why, then the secrecy?

The rumors, the whispers, the festering that spreads under the bandage of a wound left otherwise untreated—the experiment hadn't been a failure, it was a success.

(And maybe a young woman who survived put her hand up to the sky and  let it fade. Maybe a young man who survived let his emotions spill out  and take physical form.  Maybe one of the survivors had placed a hand on  a lost love's chest and willed their heart alive again. But they all  kept their silence, true to their vows.)

His voice trails off. Some part of him wonders if he's bored her, the rest concerned with if he's said too much.

Words he's said to her come to mind now, flashing bright and blinding in the darkest hours of the night.

'Trust your instincts.’  

‘Don’t you ever think maybe I’m the danger?’  

‘Run away while you still can.’  

He can't think of a time where they all apply as fittingly as now.

Perhaps, from afar, they'd seemed like fireworks, dark, mysterious,  alluring in a world with no other light. But this close, they're a  warning, perhaps even a lure— he's tempting her to come closer despite  the danger, he the ravenous firefly cloaked in a bright, warm glow.

Surely she can see the truth of him, as close to him as she is.  Surely, and yet, she stays, takes another step closer.

"You said there were three theories," she says, still awake, still listening. Still seeking out more. "What's the next?"

"I've told you this one before," he replies, and he means to meet  her, to challenge her to press up against the other side of their wall.  "Do you remember?'

There are three theories on the nature of Evol. This is the next. (familiar ground)

(Once, humanity built a tower and would've reached the heavens—

Once, Icarus flew too close to the sun—  

It fell. He fell.

The world goes on.)

Twenty-five years ago, a British PhD student found a book. (Let's call it The Black Swan.)

He read it cover-to-cover, then read it twice. Three times. A fourth.  Again and again, until the book's story, half legend, half truth, took seed in his mind, where it grew anew.

Twenty-four years ago, he tracked down the experiment's remaining  survivor, the woman who could bend light and shadow and fade into the  palest streaks of day.

('Have you come to kill me?' She asked, wry smile  twisting over her age-lined face. She saw his lab coat, his notes, his  eager, hungry smile. She knew them all.

He opened his mouth. She stopped him.

'Apologies. I misspoke. You came here to learn.'

He nodded, too-quickly, still eager. Still young.

'For science,' he said, the same tired argument, old words, old justifications and cover-ups reflected in new eyes. She shook her head.

'Don't say that,' she said, weary amusement lighting her distant gaze. 'It's for humanity. For a new world.'

She held out her hand. He took it.

No one ever saw her again.)

Twenty-two years ago, a hypothesis, not quite yet a theory, was formed. In it, the newly minted scientist put forth a potential genetic  basis for superpowers in humans: one gene with the power to transcend human ability, once activated and expressed. The gene was Evol, the individuals possessing it Evolvers.

In his notes he attributed the name Evolver to the term Evolved used in a decades-old unpublished paper— a single pile of ashes left of rumors and whispers and burned research papers, given new life, reformed.

(The reality is this: the woman and her body on the verge of vanishing on her deathbed, her wrinkled hands thin, wan, shades of grey, beckoning the watching scientist over.

'Let me tell you a story,' she'd said, her voice carrying and strong. 'Once Icarus flew too close to the sun. He fell. But what don't we remember? Daedalus— he flew.'

'Is this another one of your lessons?' The scientist had asked and he was still every inch as greedy, but he'd lost his eager tone. 'I assume I'm Icarus, aren't I, experimenting on and dissecting Evolvers, flying too close to God, growing too arrogant for the unforgiving sun?'

'No.' she'd said. 'Listen.'

But he didn't.

He heard only half a story. But now, the rest of the tale. The truth.

'Let me tell you about Daedalus. Let me tell you about a man like  you who thought he was special. Who thought he had what it took to  change the world.'

Icarus fell, but Daedalus flew. Human progress, but at the cost of what? At the cost of who?

Hundreds of thousands of participants of failed experiments and twisted studies greet her when she goes beyond death's door.

'It's never been for science,' she'd have said if he'd cared to listen, words burning one last time, vibrant and alive, on her tongue. 'This is for our humanity. Our dignity. Not in spite of humanity's love but because of it.'

And love is evol backwards, isn't it? Two sides of the same coin.)

Twenty years ago, the scientist published his research. The study  had been innovative, the findings thorough: each Evolver had in them a  sequence of DNA, a bare few codons that transcended evolution, pairs of A-Ts and C-Gs he dubbed the Evol gene. Its expression varied from person to person, just as one might have brown eyes, and another blue, though  he'd noted there were cases of similarity in awakened Evol in family  lines, within communities, between lovers and sometimes close friends.

These findings suggest a correlation between Evol expression and environment, he wrote. Shared experiences shape an Evol's final awakened form as much as genetics, if not more.

The only question is, what makes an Evolver, if not just genetics? Who gets the gene? Who awakens it?

Then, messier, more frenzied writing. More bold. What if we could create Evolvers?

The reading between the lines: what if we took apart Evolvers so that we could build one of our own?

Six months later, and he'd been stripped of all his accolades and funding, the remaining Evolvers he'd taken in released when they were found.

Crimes against humanity, they'd called it. He'd laughed, said it was for science. For humanity. For humanity's progress. (despite  our humanity. for anything but our love.)

"Lucien," she says, soft but insistent— she's been trying to get his attention for a while now, bringing him back out of his reverie. "You've been silent for a long time now. Are you still there?"

He blinks. Attempts a closed-eye smile, then remembers she can't see him, and covers it with another gentle laugh.

"Just thinking," he replies. "It was a good story. You told it well— better than I would've. I'm impressed."

"I just added on the ending with whatever felt right in the moment!" She protests, making the smallest noise of embarrassment. Then, even softer:

"I liked it when you first told it to me. Just, it didn't sound complete. It didn't have a lesson, really, or any sort of answer."

(Implicit in her words: Your stories never do.)

Silence. Again, she speaks, reaching across their shared void.

"I just wanted to understand it better— the story, I mean." She  pauses, and he can feel his heart pound, just a beat faster than normal.  At her next words, he can practically feel her blush.

"I want to understand you better."

He laughs again, quiet and gentle. With his heart loud in his ears, it's all he can manage to do.

"I don't know if you should."

Another warning. Another barrier, another wall thrown up. Still, she presses on.

"Tell me the last theory," she says instead of answering. "Tell me the theory that's yours."

(He does.)

There are three theories on Evol. Two official, as official as they could be, and the last is his— a pet theory, really, the kind full of conjecture and personal accounts that’d never make it off the drawing  board, much less to the first peer review.

Awakening his Evol had been easy. What came after was what had been  hard. They hadn’t told him what they’d done to him, what monstrous power they’d given, what he’d gotten— but maybe it hadn’t ever been theirs to  give, it’d only ever been his to have.

A thought experiment:

You think your ability is super speed. You take the hand of someone—  say, an old lady, crossing the street— and suddenly that ability is gone. You're shocked. Terrified, even. Maybe all your life you'd thought you were special, and didn't think specialness vanished, it was your trait, your birthright, not a thing as fleeting as an amusement park ride. Later, you pat a friend on the back, and their thoughts come to  your mind, loud and clear. You're shocked again. Almost terrified again. But then you realize: your ability was never one thing. It was  everything. (It was nothing.)

But what does specialness reliant on the existence of other special  people mean in terms of you and your existence? Logically, nothing. Your  genes are random. There's nothing like fate written into them, you have  this ability by sheer chance. Still. You are everything and nothing.  (You’re different from all the others. There’s no one else like you.)

You're a reflection of others, but in the end, what are you? What's a  genius, what’s being special or different or extraordinary, if at the  end of the day, it’s all just a single breath (a pained eternity) away from normal?

Copycat, echo, mirror. Imposter.

(You paradox, you.)

He tries to embrace the power of his Evol. Push it, examine it, test its limits, its potential.

He learns he can copy multiple Evols at the same time. He collapses  the first time he tries invisibility and telepathy together, experimenting with invisibility's time limit, telepathy's reach, ending  up in a sweaty, trembling heap on his apartment floor. For a blinding moment, a moment of stupidity (helpless humanity), he wants to share his  results— but it's just him in his apartment, him and the sound of his  racing pulse.

He strains. He trains. He learns to manage three.

When he feels the pressure in his head build to a point beyond mere discomfort, he releases the one— a forcefield he's grown fond of, the silent glow surrounding him fading to pale unadorned apartment wall. This time, his breaths are even, measured, controlled. He does not turn to share his accomplishment with anyone who might be there. He knows nobody's beside him. He knows he's all alone.

Instead, he stares down at his open palms, then closes them, the  second Evol, x-ray vision, vanishing. Then follows the last, a simple heightened perception, and the rest of his senses bleed back into grey.

(There's one power he tries to copy, one simple talent even his genius can never master. A want more desperate than any other—

He searches. He use any excuse to be around strangers, meet new people, see new faces, shake others' hands.

(Somewhere in the sea of introductions and small talk and conversation, a new personality— the beginnings of what would become ‘Professor Lucien’, polished, calm, smooth— emerges.)

He never finds it. Instead, he finds he can copy countless others, craft dreams, weave miracles, do anything and everything— all except for this one mundane ability, taken forcibly from him.

Seeing color.  

He doesn't know if he just hasn't yet found the Evol or if he has,  unknowingly, and passed it without a second thought, the Evol itself  incapable of being replicated, echoed, or worn like a glove.

He isn't sure which one's worse. He isn't sure which one's true.)

They come back to him in this purgatory— his demons, his saviors, those monsters. Black Swan.

They tell him he's special (he's learned long ago the word means  worse than nothing) that they're like him, together they'll make a  better world.

He accepts their lie. (It feels better, after all, to be somebody's weapon than nobody's anything at all.)

He plays being a killer. Dons the name Ares. Throws coldness up  between him and all the others like one of his forcefields, like a wall.

They speak of the potential of human evolution. They speak of a new  race of superhuman Evolvers taking charge of and ruling the world. All  in impassioned, hateful, dangerous words— they color his world black and  he embraces it.

Anything is better than grey, he thinks early on, perhaps foolishly, over yet another still-warm mangled body.

'Normie,' one of the other men on the mission spits, aiming a  kick at the body, low and vicious, his voice like a bloody oath. He  turns to Ares with a grin. 'We did good. Wanna grab a drink?'

Ares doesn't smile. He thinks, 'What's one more corpse?'

He returns to headquarters alone.

(They don't send him out on team missions, after.)

And now—

her.

His color. His reckoning. His proof.

(In her eyes— her strong righteous savior's gaze— he imagines the  artist's jar shattering, the butterfly soaring high, soaring free.)

"Lucien," she says, calling out to him, voice hovering, trembling on  the edge of a sob. His heart clenches, and he clutches it, wondering how  he should respond.

"Lucien."

He takes a breath, then another.

"I'm sorry— what is it? I'm still here."

Lines like "Are you okay?" or "Talk to me, please." go unspoken. Instead, she says, soft and gentle:

"Have you seen the stars tonight? They're beautiful."

"I haven't."

"Then...come to the balcony with me?"

An almost-eternity passes. But then, he agrees.

(first, a brief tangent.)

There are four men. He's one of them. But what about the other three?

The boy trapped in his past by the memory of the one he couldn't protect, his Evol and him both frozen in time.

The boy who wanted freedom from the rumors, the fighting, most of  all, from his dad, who grew wings to escape them and become one with the  breeze.

The boy who'd never been loved unconditionally and now surrounded himself with it, a part of him rearing its head to demand it.

(all other stories. for other times, other worlds.)

"You know, sometimes I think the stars must be lonely," she says, and though he doesn't dare look at her, he hears her both in real life and through the phone speaker cradled close to his ear. He feels rather than sees her move closer to his side of the balcony, closing the distance,  coming to the edge.

"They're thousands of light years away from each other," she continues. "Maybe they wonder if they're all alone, sometimes, if  they're the only light for miles in an empty, endless dark sea."

"It makes me sad, to think about it. We spend our lives looking up at the stars and casting lines, drawing constellations between them, but in reality, they're just as lonely as we are. Maybe even more."

"I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry— it's been a long day, and it's just  this time of night, it always makes me melancholy for some reason. I can't remember why."

She laughs a little, self-deprecating. In the night's stillness, he hears the shuddering in her next breath. It takes hold deep within him, her fisherman's hook, line, and sinker, gone straight to his heart.

"Don't say that," he says, the words freed from that same place deep within him, and what he means is 'You're not alone.'

"MC."

He's at his edge of the balcony before he knows it— for the first time, it's him reaching back across the ocean between them, it's his question, his unspoken plea.  

His eyes seek hers in the darkness.

She finds him.

(His color.

Her light.)

There's a knock from the doorway, echoed over the phone. He laughs softly into the speaker, then moves in from the balcony and crosses his room to open the door. It's her.

“Lucien,” she says, and his name on her lips holds all the secrets of the universe, stars and galaxies swirling in the space between each of her breaths.

She holds her hands out to him, she, his lifeline, his compass, the one bright color of his life.

He hesitates for a moment, then takes then, gets pulled by them into her, into the warmest embrace.

(he can hear her heartbeats, echoes of songs of legend of stories, intertwined with his)

"Lucien," she murmurs into his chest. "Tell me a story? Tell me yours."

This time, he hears her as he's meant to, the words were never a  command, they were a question. A plea. Another step in his direction,  just like the knock on his door.

(he lets her in.

she stays awake for the rest of the story, stays on the line for the rest of the call.

together, they create their own ending.)

[lo-55]

Tilt The Hourglass Ch. 12

It occurred to Maul only when they were halfway to the mainland that he should probably tell Jango that they hadn’t died. 

Maul didn’t know why he was bothering, exactly. However much Jango might fancy himself a would-be-father for Maul he wasn’t. He wasn’t a father, or a master, or anyone that Maul owed true loyalty to. Maul owed him for patching him up, nothing more. He did not ask to be adopted and he did not need a parent or anyone to take care of him. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He had been for years. 

After this job that debt of his should be paid for, and Maul could go on about his life. He could find Kilindi and Daleen, fetch his brother from Dathomir before the witches could twist him into a tool for their use, and start building his shadow empire. 

That was his plan, wasn’t it?

"Plans are fragile things, and life often dashes expectations to the ground."

Maul’s head snapped around. He’d heard something again. A woman’s voice this time, one that whispered to him from a space between shadows. In his mind it was painted pale purple and white. 

Tiny, pin-pricked claws caught on his sleeve and one of the vornskr’s clambered up to rest on his shoulder, pushing her head against Maul’s cheek before she crawled inside his hood and lay herself around his neck. Her dark body was warm and fluffy with baby fur. 

She hadn’t reacted to the voice, nor had anyone else in the ship of freed slaves. Not even those few who stood close enough to hear a whisper away from him where he sat next to a control panel in the galley. 

Not a real voice then. Not one from a physical place. 

Maul touched his temple, beneath one of his crowning horns, and felt his stomach twist unpleasantly. Was it returning, now, the madness he had spent so long entrenched in? Mother Talzin’s magics had stitched together his fragmented mind with green energy and her own will, and after her death he had been forced to learn to hold it together himself. Sometimes the insanity threatened to creep back in. Sometimes he woke up and it was too dark and he could hear acid rain hissing and see the scratched paintings that a lunatic had put on the wall in fits of rage that kept him living and breathing but not truly there. 

It was a terrible thing, the madness. 

Being not himself, or worse when he was lucid enough to almost grasp onto concepts more solid than filling his mouth with blood and filling his heart with vengeance but could not quite grab hold of the flitting knowledge of who and what he was, or even what he hated so much that it kept his heart beating when the weaker would have perished.

He’d lost a decade of his life to that haze, in the squalor and the garbage and the fire. 

Thrown away like everything else on Lotho Minor. 

His nails dug hard into his thigh, biting into the skin there until it threatened to break and grounding him in the fact that he was not there. He had legs. They hurt. 

Maul took a breath, slowly, and wove the fear in his heart into a latticed shield that he’d been patching around his mind. It had done enough to keep him safe from the Jedi, but they hadn’t really been looking at him. They’d had no reason to prod his mind for more than superficial surface thoughts. 

Sidious had done more damage than Maul wanted to admit, and it would take more time than he had to completely fix it. If he ever could. There were scars in his skull, deep claw tracks that his master had left for him when he lanced through his thoughts and tore them asunder. 

He touched the small muzzle of his vornskr. Her companions, siblings, perhaps, found a place on his lap. 

The voice did not sound like the mad hissing and the frantic, cloying whispers of his shattered self. For one thing, he had never had a woman's voice. For another, it was not dripping with loathing and desperate pain. 

The scars on his palm itched. 

Once he was centered again, and sure of the world around him, Maul input Jango’s comm code. 

He answered a second later. 

“Who is this?” he demanded. His voice was short and sharp and there was the distinct sound of metal being ripped apart in the back ground. What was he doing? Maul had the feeling he’d missed something while he was on the platform with Kenobi. 

“Maul,” was all he said. 

Jango’s tone changed instantly. “Maul! Where are you? Why didn’t you answer the call?!” 

Maul rolled his eyes. Why was Jango so worked up? 

“I used an EMP to kill the explosive charges in a bunch of slave collars on the mine I found Kenobi on. It knocked out the comm along with everything else.” Maul wasn’t sure why he wasn’t just telling Jango that he hadn’t felt like it. 

“... You know what. I’ll ask when you get back. Where did you get the EMP?” 

“I made it.” 

Jango went quiet. Then, “Where did you come from?!”

Maul couldn't help it. He actually laughed. A rough, unused sound. 

“Orsis,” he said finally. “I trained on Orsis.” 

“Orsis. Fuck. That explains a lot. Okay. How did you make the EMP?” 

“Battery, door lock capacitor, wire coil.”

“Kriff.” 

“Why?” 

“Long story short? The di’kut jetii’s wayward student planted a bomb on a timer in the ionite mines. It’s going to blow up the planet.” 

Maul looked up to see Kenobi sitting across from him, horror on his face. “Cursed,” Maul said firmly. 

“Wait!” Kenobi jumped across the gap to slap his hands next to the ships com, nearly knocking his little lizard askew from its place clinging to his ginger hair. It’s tail slapped Kenobi in the cheek. Maul leaned away from him.

“Ionite! Ionite disrupts electronics, especially clocks and sensors. Miner’s are afraid of it,” Kenobi said quickly. 

“Ob’ika!” Jango sounded relieved. “You’re both safe?” 

“Yes,” he said, a strange smile on his face, “But the bomb-”

“We’ll handle it,” Jango promised. “Can the two of you meet us at our apartment?” 

“We can,” Maul assured, shouldering Kenobi behind him. “And Jango?” 

“Hmm?” There was the sound of rocks being thrown against something metallic. Jinn shouted something too far away to be heard. Hopefully he got hit with a rock.

“I have dibs on the dar’jetti.” 

“Absolutely not-!” 

Maul hung up the com and sat back in the seat to shoot a crooked grin at Kenobi. 

“What did you mean by that?” Kenobi asked curiously. 

“I mean that Xanatos has royally pissed me off, and I have no intention of letting him go now. If he was at the mines I have a starting point. Go back to the apartment.” 

“Not without you!” Kenobi grabbed his arm. “We go together.” 

Maul looked at him. His blue eyes were bright and true. Maul’s mouth thinned into a line. It would be dangerous for him but… Kenobi was stronger than he looked. If he had survived this on his own before, he must be. Maul underestimated him. 

“Very well. Together, then.”

Maul inclined his head to Kenobi, and ignored the way he burst into a grin. Force, he was so young. 

Maul had the newly freed slaves drop them off somewhere where Maul could ‘commander’ and speeder for them. Kenobi sat behind him, holding onto his poncho while the vonskr piled into the front of his shirt and Kenobi’s little lizard hid inside the jedi’s pocket. 

Maul turned them suddenly away from the mine. The Force, darkness whispering around his fingers, hissed at him that Xanatos was not there. 

“Where are we going?” Kenobi shouted in his ear. 

Maul didn’t respond. He sped faster, roaring through the crowded streets of Bando. If Xanatos had set a mine to blow up the planet then he wouldn’t still be around, and Maul had found the landing platform that Offworld used for its corporate members when he’d been poking around Xanatos’ files. 

They shot onto the landing platform from the street, bursting past the security teams and weaving between blaster fire until they went tumbling off the bike and directly into the cargo hold of a shiny nubien transport ship. It certain didn’t look like it came through an Ion storm. 

Kenobi landed on his feet and Maul at his side in a crouch. He forced the vornskr out of his clothes and shooed them off to the side. 

They were like him. Fighters, angry and vicious down in their bones, hunters with sleak bodies ready to grow into muscle and danger. Venom coated their pointed tails. 

“Stay,” Maul ordered harshly, pushing them between two boxes for their own safety. He could feel the little female in his mind, upset at being pushed aside. Their bond was already strong. 

Kenobi put his little pet in with Maul’s future hunters and the pair turned around right as the door slid open with a hiss and Xanatos came out, his cloak billowing. He was flanked by two assassin droids of a much more basic model than the CIS had used. He moved with a natural battle prowess, and looked down his nose at the children before him. 

Maul bared his teeth. Good. It would make it that much easier to kill him. 

Maul drew his blaster and fired without warning. Xanatos ripped his lightsaber out of his sleeve and flicked it on with a buzz. The red blade hummed ominous. Maul eyed it derisively. He could sense it from here. The crystal had been bled, but not properly. Xanatos was full of hatred, but not enough. 

Maul fired again and Kenobi ignited his own ‘saber. The little Jedi threw himself at the wash out with abandon. He was vicious and fast, the familiar forms he had used in the future nowhere to be found. 

Maul ignored the off footed feeling it left him with and kept shooting, careful not to his Kenobi while he was at it. The bolts shot back and hit the walls, scorching them and freeing crates from nets to go falling around them. It gave Maul the leverage to climb higher and hit Xanatos in the shoulder, thoroughly ruining his fine cloak. 

Good. It was gaudy anyways. 

The assassin droids came after them alongside their master with electro-staves, forcing Maul and Kenobi to fight three on two. Enraged by his loss of fashion Xanatos snarled and launched himself clean over Kenobi to slash down at Maul, who ducked and rolled out of the way. When Kenobi tried to held the droids intercepted him and tried to cut him down, forcing him on the defensive. 

He had to dodge and weave the slashes and jabs that Xanatos sent his way. He dropped and swept his foot out to knock Xanato’s feet out from under him. 

Maul fired at him twice and had both shots deflected.  

“Have you always had such sloppy footwork?” Maul asked dryly. 

Xanatos rose to his feet. Kenobi circled him on the other side.  Xanatos dodged between the two of them, trying to get them to slip up and strike eachother, but both of them managed to avoid it. The Force curled around Maul as his temper rose and impatience came with it, practically begging to be used. 

Maul shot just over Xanatos’ shoulder and steam erupted in the ship, screaming through the hold. The steam burned Xanatos’ arm, forcing a howl out of his mouth. 

Pathetic. 

Maul caught Kenobi’s eyes and jerked his chin towards the ex-Jedi. Kenobi caught his meaning and abandoned his opponents when he launched himself at Xanatos with a powerful overhead strike. 

Xanatos lashed out with the Force and slammed Kenobi into the wall so hard the metal dented. His lightsaber went out and fell to the ground with a clatter beside him while Kenobi’s body fell limp, just behind Maul. 

Rage coiled through Maul’s body. 

No, absolutely not. 

He didn’t hear the speeder roaring closer. He didn’t hear his comm, recovered from the EMP, going off. All he heard was the echoing of Kenobi’s body and his own blood rushing through his ears. 

“You shouldn’t have bothered with the Jedi,” Xanatos lectured, his voice slick. His Force slithered around Maul’s skull and tried to poke and prod him into listening. Maul snarled. “They don’t care about anyone or anything. They are cruel, and they will betray you in the end. They don’t understand true power.” 

“And you do?” Maul snapped, his voice harsh and echoing through the coiling steam. Xanatos’ smile was a sickening sight. Maul was going to cut his face off and rip the mouth apart. 

“I understand it better than any of them. Let me show you!” 

Xanatos threw his hand out, intending to strangle Maul, but Maul batted the Force choke away. Xanatos was strong in the darkside, for someone who hadn’t been trained in it. 

Maul was born to it. 

Raised in it. 

Suffered and bled and killed for it. 

The Darkside hummed through his veins. 

The ships ramp shook and clattered around the ground and the ship itself creaked as power filled it and pushed outwards, away from Maul. He lifted one hand and squeezed a fist to crush the droids on either side of Xanatos into nothing more than balls of scrap metal and wire. 

The former Jedi stepped back, his eyes wide. Fear flickered through them. 

Good. 

Maul touched the barrels of his blaster. He unhooked them from the base and pulled them free. They swung apart, a hinge in the middle keeping them together until the bases met. 

Red extended from one side, and crimson from the other. Maul held it in front of him, with Kenobi limp behind him and the darkness raging around the pair. 

“You-” Xanatos gasped. 

Maul met his eyes squarely. 

“You speak of power as if you have it. You have barely scratched the surface of the Darkside. So you covet one scar and one loss above all else? You are weak. Pathetic. The Darkside is born of fear and hate and you seek to control all things. But the Darkness can never be truly controlled. You are weak, ex-Jedi. You were never even a Knight. I have killed Padawan’s, Knights and Masters. I will kill you too.” 

Xanatos lifted his ‘saber up to block Maul’s first attack, but he was forced to defend. Each arching strike was powerful and intended to take his head. Each twisted and flash of red launched at his openings and weaknesses. 

Over, under, left, right, Maul came from all angles. Xanatos was good, but not good enough. He was no Jinn, no Kenobi, no Tano. 

Maul dodged and slash aimed at his shoulder and drove the edge of his ‘saber through Xanato’s chest. 

It was quick. Quicker than he deserved. 

Maul stepped back and let him fall to the ground with a hole smoking in his chest. 

He stood over him, his lightsaber singing in his grasp of vengeance and satisfaction. It had met its first blood with a fallen Jedi of the same lineage that Maul had spent a lifetime battling. Maul’s hood fell from his shoulders and he turned at last to his fallen battle-partner. 

He found pale blue eyes watching him. The pupils were dilated and Kenobi only uttered a weak groan. There was blood along his lips and his injured back had certainly been done no favors by the rough treatment at Xanatos’ hands. 

Maul walked towards him slowly. He turned off his ‘saber and folded it back in half just as Jinn and Jango came bursting through the doorway in a clatter of armor and boots. Maul picked up his blaster and carefully clicked the ‘saber back in its place before he joined Jango at Kenobi’s side. The Mandalorian was checking him over, testing his ribs and stomach for broken bones and internal bleeding. He head bled sluggishly from a cut along the back of it. 

“You found us,” Maul said, surprised.

Jango shot him a look. “I don’t know if you know this, but it’s my job to find people on the run. It doesn’t matter if their petty thieves or corporate hot shots. I’m very good at my job, Maul’ika.” 

Jango glanced at Maul’s blaster. So he had noticed after all. He was still acting like everything was the same. Like Maul wasn’t a sith. 

“Come on. Let’s get Ob’ika to a proper doctor. And stop shaking the ship.” 

Maul hadn’t even realized that it was still trembling under the force of his anger. The ship shuddered and the lights flickered when he draw the darkness back inside himself and tucked it carefully into the ocean of his being. 

He spared a glance at Jinn, who was cradling the body of Xanatos as if he hadn’t just tried to kill him and half a planet’s worth of people. 

Had Kenobi held Jinn like that after Maul had killed him? 

An armoured hand on his shoulder broke him from his thoughts. Maul looked up to see Jango standing over him with Obi Wan hefted onto his back. He still looked dazed, but with the weight of Maul’s anger lifted from him he was much more relaxed. 

“C’mon. Let the jetii mourn. I’m trusting you to watch my back on the way to the hospital.” 

Maul personally thought trusting a Sith was a terrible choice, but whatever. He nodded once to the Mandalorian before he went over to the shelter he had left their companions in. He came back holding three vornskr and Kenobi’s varactyl. 

Jango stopped walking when he saw Maul approach with a bundle of tiny animals. 

“... You’re cleaning up after them.” 

Maul scoffed. “Obviously.” 

The pair left Jinn to mourn his fallen apprentice. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Jango left Obi Wan to rest in Maul’s bedroom in their apartment before he made his way out to the kitchen, where Maul was feeding their new little guests. Three small feline creatures with puffy black fur and long tails that pointed at the end in a diamond shape. 

The three were all equipped with tiny, sharp claws and razor sharp baby teeth. 

Jango hadn’t even considered saying ‘no’ when Maul had pulled them out of a small space between crates in the cargo hold of Xanatos’ ship. The boy was a natural born hunter if he’d found the dar’jetii before either he or Jinn had arrived.

Jango hadn’t liked working with Jinn, and he liked even less tripping over him in close quarters combat with a coward who had no intention of fighting them straight. They had done more damage to each other than they had to Xanatos. 

In the end it hadn’t mattered. 

Jango’s kid had cut him down with a lightsaber of all things. 

Jango couldn't say he was surprised. 

The Manda had been very loud about the boy, and Jango had seen him building the strange blaster over the last few days. He’d known he’d been up to something curious, but he hadn’t been inclined to ask right off. Nothing had been put together in a way that looked like it would explode, and Maul had seemed to know what he was doing. 

Now Jango knew why. 

Orsis. Kriff. 

He’d heard of the academy there. The headmaster, Trezza, had recruited a Mandalorian years ago. Meltch Krakko may have been Kry’tsad but he was a formidable fighter. When he disappeared for nearly a decade it had been enough to warrant Jaster looking into it and Jango after. Now he was back with the Kyr’tsad and a royal thorn in Jango’s side. 

Had Maul been trained by Krakko? He’d been back for three years, and Maul looked much too young to belong to Orsis for that long. Yet, Maul was not a half trained student. He was well trained, a frightening thing. No child should be that good at killing. 

It also confirmed… certain things. 

Jango came to sit across the counter from where Maul was wrestling one of the felines with his hand, trying to ‘fight’ it for the small hunk of meat he was holding. The little varactyl that Maul said was Obi Wan’s was stretched out in front of a sunbeam that came through the window. Morning had already come and only Obi Wan had gotten any sleep. 

Jango set his helmet on the counter and ran his fingers through his hair. 

He was too young for this. He was too young for two kids and four animals, and more kids to come. He’d promised to help Maul fetch his brother. That would mean three kids. Four, maybe, Maul had used plural but he’d been vague. 

Jango didn’t know that he could raise all of them on his own. He was only twenty two, and he was Mand’alor as well. He didn’t even have a riduur to help him. How could he give the boys all the attention and care they deserved? 

Maul and Obi Wan were already independent for their age, and given when little Jango knew of them it wasn’t that much of a surprise. Apparently the jettii sucked at caring for their young. While that meant that he probably didn’t have to worry about making sure they got dinner and washed up it meant that he needed to be more present for other matters. 

For the compassion and care they had been denied before. To coax the both of them into trusting him and letting him take care of them when he could. Would it really be fair to ask that they put up with a buir that had so many responsibilities to the Haat’ade?

Jango had been so sure of himself before. And he hadn’t changed his mind. He wanted Maul as his son. He wanted Obi Wan too. 

But he had to think about what was best for the boys. 

On top of Jango’s own issues there was also the matter of the Force. 

Obi Wan had dreamed for so long of being a Knight, and his heart was crushed by the idea that it would never come true. Maul had already proven himself to be powerful in the magic, even more so tonight. 

Jango glanced at his blaster. 

He didn’t know what he’d expected when he arrived at Xanatos’ ship with Jinn, their alliance held together only by the common goal of ‘stop Xanatos’, but it certainly hadn’t been Maul standing protectively over a downed Obi Wan before he sprung into a fight so fast and vicious Jango hadn’t been able to keep up with it at the time. He’d been a blur of red and black rage that took Xanatos down in the time it took Jango and Jinn to cross the landing pad at a run. 

“You are taking this better than I expected,” Maul said suddenly. 

Jango pulled his gaze away from the blaster to look at the boy. 

“Taking what?” Jango asked, laying his hands on the counter. He’d noticed Maul was more comfortable when he could see everyone’s hand around him. It was just the smallest easing of his shoulders. Jango understood. 

“Me,” Maul said bluntly. Jango frowned. His confusion must have shown, or Maul felt it in the Force, because he elaborated. “My lightsaber. And the Force. You felt it there.” 

“Well yes,” Jango tilted his head. “I knew about it already.” 

Maul’s head snapped up and he sat straight, knocking his playmate on his back. The feline chirped angrily at him and snatched the meat. He went scampering over to his litttermates, and ended up getting knocked head over heels by the female. She was a scrapper, and she adored Maul. 

“You what?!” 

Jango’s heart softened. Maul hadn’t known. He’d been hiding it this whole time. Had he been afraid? Had he thought Jango was going to punish him for having such abilities? 

Jango recalled the scars that painted Maul’s body. 

It was very possible that that was what he expected, because that was what had happened in the past. The idea made Jango’s blood heat with anger. 

Jango tamped it down so he could speak calmly to Maul. 

“When I found you on that ship, the one that you were stowed away in, you lashed out when you were hurt. Every light in the ship exploded.” 

Maul grimaced. “I see. Then why didn’t you leave me there?” 

Jango didn’t even try to act like he wasn’t horrified. 

“You’re a child! I wasn’t leaving an ad alone in the middle of space in a dead ship!” 

“You have no obligation to me,” Maul snapped. “I’m not your son, you’ve sworn nothing to me. I’m not a Mandalorian-” 

“But you can be. You know you can be.” 

The weight of his words betrayed the secondary meaning behind them. Jango watched Maul’s breath catch and his eyes grow wide. His skin paled to pink and grey. Jango winced. He hadn’t meant to scare him that much. He hadn’t meant to scare him at all. 

“You saw that,” Maul hissed, scrambling to stand up. Jango made himself stay calm. He made himself stay relaxed, his hands in sight and his eyes open and genuine. 

“I did. It was the future, wasn’t it?” He waited for Maul to give a stiff, short nod. Jango stayed very still. “I heard that jetii sometimes see the future, and sometimes they read minds. Mandalorian’s who are more connected to it can sometimes receive information from the Manda, but it’s mostly feelings and intuition.” 

“Beskar muffles the Force,” Maul said quietly. 

“I didn’t have my buy’ce on when it started. I saw what could have happened, and I saw what you changed it too, with your friends. You’re going to look for the girls eventually too, right?” 

Maul nodded slowly. 

Jango quietly added two more to his growing list of responsibilities. If it took a clan to raise a child it was going to take the entire Haat’ade to raise Jango’s.  

 “You knew the whole time,” Maul realized, looking at Jango with new eyes. One of the barriers between them was starting to dissolve. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t want to scare you. If you wanted me to know you would tell me, eventually. You hate having to make yourself lesser.” 

Maul grimaced. “Yes. I do.” 

Jango leaned closer across the counter. 

“I would never ask you to do that, you know. I would never ask you to pretend to be anything that you aren’t. You’re a feral nexu, and too smart for your own good. You’re a fighter the likes of which I’ve rarely met. Even if I wish that you didn’t have to be. I wasn’t lying, or joking, and I’ve known what you are and what you could be the entire time. I want you as my son, Maul’ika. If you say yes.” 

Maul sat back. He looked lost, and confused, but Jango could see a new light in his eyes. 

“My brothers. If you take me you take them.” 

“I know,” Jango promised. He hesitated. “I wouldn’t try to keep you from family. My buir, Jaster Mereel, took me in. I was a foundling. My parents and my sister were killed by the Kyr’tsad.”  

“Oh.” 

The door to Obi Wan’s room hissed open and they both turned to see the boy standing there, looking pale and shaken but standing upright. Jango waved him over and Obi Wan came to sit by his side. His varactyle came running off and climbed quickly onto Obi Wan’s shoulder. Obi Wan smiled and pet her head, where a crown of messy feathers was starting to come in. 

“It’s good to see you’re up,” Jango said fondly. Obi Wan shot him a shy smile before he sat up straighter. He was far too adult for Jango’s liking. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to inconvenience you like that.” 

Jango’s heart broke. He dragged Obi Wan into his side. His armor lay on the corner, so he didn’t smack the boys head on his breast plate. 

“It wasn’t an inconvenience, but I wish you boys had waited for us, or at least told us the plan. I would have helped, you know.” 

Obi Wan flushed faintly with the simple affection, but he let Jango hug him for a minute more before being released to sit on the stool next to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But we won! Right?” He looked between the pair. “I.. don’t remember everything. It was dark, and cold, and kind of hard to see…” 

“Yes. We won,” Jango assured. “Xanatos is dead. Maul got him.” 

Obi Wan looked to Maul in surprise. The zabrak boy hunched his shoulders. Obi Wan’s eyes got wider. 

“The lightsaber. The red lightsaber, with two blades. It was real. It was yours.” 

Maul nodded, once. His lips curled, ready to bite. 

“Yes. It is.” 

“But, how? You aren’t a jedi, are you? You’re too young…” 

“I’m old enough,” Maul snapped, as he was wont to. Jango privately disagreed. From what he knew of zabraks, Maul hadn’t even hit puberty yet. He wouldn’t have even  been eligible for his verd’goten yet. 

“But you’re right,” Maul admitted. “I am no jedi. I am… I was, a sith apprentice.” 

Obi Wan sucked in a sharp breath. “But the sith are dead!” 

“Not dead,” Maul shook his head. “Hiding. A line of Banite sith have been in hiding for a thousand years, passing knowledge from Master to Apprentice.” 

“That’s- But- We have to tell the Jedi Council,” Obi Wan said suddenly. Maul lunged across the counter and grabbed his arm. 

“No!” He nearly shouted. The lights flickered and Obi Wan’s skin paled. Jango grasped both boys by the shoulders and pulled them apart. Maul spared him a brief glance. 

“No,” Maul said again, his voice low and sharp and urgent. “You can’t tell them. They wouldn’t believe you, there’s no proof of what I say and even if there was there’s nothing they can do about it. My- The Master is too powerful politically to be touched, and a religion is not illigal. The Jedi serve the Republic’s whims.” 

It was a messy, uneven argument, but it wasn’t wrong either. Besides that Jango had personal doubts about exactly how capable the Jedi Council was. Not just for Galidraan, but for Obi Wan too. 

They were fools. 

It was still a problem though. 

“That’s not all, is it?” Jango pressed, squeezing Maul’s shoulder. He frowned, but nodded, slowly. 

“No. It’s not.” 

“We can’t let a Sith Lord run free though,” Obi Wan argued. “The Sith are evil! They’ll hurt people.” He faltered and looked at Maul, remembering that he had just called himself a Sith Apprentice. 

Maul glared at the table. 

“No. We will not let him run free. I will kill him myself. For the pain he caused me. For the life he stole from me. For the people he ripped from my arms and the blood I painted myself in for him. I will kill him for it.”

Obi Wan frowned. 

“Revenge is dangerous. Master Yoda says it leads to the Darkside.” 

“I’m already entrenched in the Darkside,” Maul said irritably. He tilted his head. “Do you even know the Sith Code?” 

Obi Wan frowned. “Well, there’s only ever two of them. And they use that Darkside, and tried to take over the galaxy before. They’d angry and hateful, and evil.”

Again, he winced. Again, Maul didn’t take offense. 

“Peace is a lie. There is only Passion.

Through Passion I gain Strength.

Through Strength I gain Power.

Through Power I gain Victory.

Through Victory my chains are Broken.

The Force shall free me” 

Maul’s voice echoed with the words of a thousand Sith that came before him. Jango could feel it in his bones, the way the air shifted and the shadows lengthened in the corner of his eyes. 

Obi Wan frowned. “That… doesn’t sound that bad.” 

Maul inclined his head. “You’re not entirely wrong. My Master is evil. He’s cruel and vicious. And his own master still lives. He has broken the Rule of Two by teaching me. I will end the line of Bane. There is strength in the Darkside.” 

“Although,” he added, reluctantly. “The Lightside is not without its own merits.” 

“Don’t jetii preach about balance?” Jango wondered aloud. 

“They usually mean only for the Light to be prevalent,” Maul said with a grimace. 

“But, yes. We do,” Obi Wan said. His face fell. “They do. I’m not a real jedi now. And Master Jinn won’t take me and there’s no one else that would.” 

“I told you I would help you, Obi Wan,” Jango reminded him. He hated saying it. He really did, especially given what Galidraan could have been if they hadn’t had the warning from two years ago. “If you really want it, I’ll help you find a teacher too, if you’re willing to put up with us for a while more. There have to be a few Jedi who have less of a stick in their shebs than Jinn does.” 

Obi Wan looked at him with such fragile, heartbreaking hope Jango wanted to burn the Jedi temple to the ground. “Really? You think someone would take me?”

If they didn’t, Jango would. 

Jango nodded at him with as kind of a smile as he could muster. 

“I do. We’ll just have to start looking.” 

Maul made a small sound. 

“Actually,” he began, “I might have an idea where to start. There’s a reclusive Jedi Master…”

[yeojaa]

SUGAR HIGH, chapter i. (w. JJK)

You're not entirely sure when it happened, though you'd come to terms with it. You'd counted the days, waiting for the inevitable. You'd truly thought you'd be okay, but by the broken, half-beating thing in your chest - you knew you'd never really been prepared.

alt summary.  You thought you’d known real love and maybe you had - it just wasn’t with who you thought.

pairing.  jeon jungkook.  mentions/involvement of ot7.

tags.  angst, break up, post-break up, comfort, OT7, slow burn, friendship, moving on, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional bagge, fluff, canon compliant, jeon jungkook is bad at feelings, jeon jungkook is a good friend, jeon jungkook is a sweetheart. 

rating.  general (for now?)

word count.  ~2000

chapter 1.  This Is Not a Love Song

Endings are never easy and rarely are they simple.  But when the person you once loved feels more like a stranger, isn't it better you say goodbye?  You're not quite sure.

Had it been days?  Weeks?  Months?

You truly tried to remember, to recall what the feeling of his hands felt like, the soft ache of his voice in the early morning.  You tried to piece together the memory of his I love you's and attempted to recall whether the emptiness had always felt like this - suffocating.  

Had his stare always been so lackluster?  You'd sworn you could've once been swept up in the depths of his emotion, happy to sink beneath the tumultuous waves.  You would've died happy, curled around the treasure that you'd found there within the cavern of his chest.  You'd found a home in him -- or so you thought.

You wondered idly whether it was normal for this to happen, for love to settle into half-baked embers.  Perhaps this was just how things were.  Perhaps the intensity of your love - like a kerosene rag soaked in gasoline - had skewed your perspective.  Maybe this was okay.  (Not great, but okay.)  

"Soomi-ah, are you okay?"

The concern tore you from your reverie, snapping you back to reality.

Something like a smile arranges itself on your face - but he can tell it's strained.  There's too much weight in the jut of your bottom lip, tension hugging the curve of your small jaw.  He sees it - or the lack thereof - in your eyes, the warmth of your amusement hardly reaching the honeyed depths.  

Though he's miles away, connected only by the quickest connection the hotel can muster, he wonders what your hands look like.  Would they be coiled together, knuckles blown white?

"I'm fine, Jungkook-ah."  Your expression falters, dips just barely, before returning in full force.  Laughter sounds in what's meant to be reassurance and you breath in sharply through your nose, willing the sudden wetness from your eyes.  You silently thank yourself for having gotten talked into a haircut earlier this week, the softened strands at your crown casting a safety net across your features.

"You don't seem fine."

It's not accusatory - only concerned.  

What did you do to deserve someone like him?

There's another inhale, this time masked beneath a quiet clearing of your throat.  Could you lie to him?  Did you even have reason to?  He was your best friend (and you were one of his seven).  You knew you could tell him anything.

And so you did.

"I think... things are over.  Or they're going to be over.  I don't really know.  It's like I'm all alone."  You're rambling, tripping over your own words in your haste to get them all out before they're steeled once again behind the cage of your teeth.  "I mean, I know I'm not. I have you. I have Minji and Yejin and... everyone else, but he feels so far away."

You want to explain how you'd thought you'd be together for- no, not ever, but a long time.  You thought you'd have years ahead of you, two puzzle pieces haphazardly thrown together that somehow worked despite the awkward edges.  

You thought you'd loved enough for the both of you.

"We haven't spoken in days."  This draws a noise of surprise from the figure on the screen, whose arms fold neatly over his drawn-up legs, bottom lip bruised under the ministrations of his teeth.  He says nothing more though - simply nods and continues to listen.

"It's like I'm living with a roommate.  A really, really quiet roommate."

"I wish mine were quiet."  You know he's trying to cheer you up and it works - a flutter of laughter dropping off your tongue.  

Then silence returns, filling the spaces you don't know how to, and he sees more than hears the way you squeeze your fingers in your lap.  You've always done this - some sort of defense mechanism in place to prevent you from feeling too much.  You'd adopted it from him, honestly, so he couldn't fault you.  When you spent so much time with someone, you were bound to steal the best and worst of them.

"I'm here for you,"  he finally breaks the quiet, leaning forward in his chair, head cocking to the side in that way you love so much.  "I'll be home next Wednesday and we can figure things out together."

His words carry weight to them, as if he could anchor you there with him, keeping you from drifting under the current of your sadness.  And maybe he can.

"Okay."  

You'd promised you would let him know if anything changed, wiggled your pinky finger at him through the FaceTime screen as he'd done the same.  He'd laughed when you'd rolled your eyes, aware that deep down these little things were what helped get you through the harder days.

You'd lied - but you were sure this was for the best.  After all, he was busy.  It came with the territory of being an idol.

He didn't have time for all of your little problems.

(He did - you knew he did.  He'd drop the world if it meant anything to you.)  

So you packed your things with the help of Minji, carefully tucking clothes into boxes and stripping all indications of you from the slate grey walls.  You smoothed the faded pink fur of your Cooky plush against your cheek, breathing in the familiar scent - a mixture of his cologne and something distinctly him.

Across the room, Minji hums as she slips yet another pair of shoes into a box.  "Do you really need this many?"  

You tear your attention from the handful of stuffed animals on the edge of the bed, Cooky still snuggled happily in the crook of your elbow.  A hand flies to your throat, feigned affront evident in the width of your stare and garbled gasp.  "Of course I do.  What else will I wear when..."

There are a pair of Converse staring you down, what was once pure as snow now a muddy off-white.  They're identical to the other pair in Minji's hands, though significantly more dirty.

"I wore those to DisneySEA!  Namjoon-oppa nearly broke my ankle in them.  I can't throw them away!"

You were a dreamer, a romanticist, someone who held onto everything from ticket stubs to sticky notes.  You kept every stuffed animal you won (or was won for you).  You never threw away anything so long as they held some sort of sentimental value.  Even if it hurt, you held onto it.

Minji had noticed this when you packed up the photos of you and Seunghoon, meticulously arranging the frames within the brown box.  She would've thrown them against the wall and left it for him to clean up, if it had been up to her.

She knew not to push you, though.  She knew this was hard enough already.

"Okay, okay," she relents with a pronounced roll of her eyes, hands none-too-gently shoving the second pair of sneakers away.  "But you seriously have too much stuff.  I've put away at least fifteen white shirts and they all looked the exact same!"

You say nothing in response, a small little smile quirking the edge of your mouth as you tape the box closed, inspecting your handiwork.

"Yah - I'm serious!  We're roping the boys in and Marie Kondo-ing your apartment."

"Good luck with that.  Kookie will vote to keep all the shirts."  After all, it was his fault.  Another habit borrowed from your best friend - collecting a million plain tee shirts.  "And none of the other boys will care enough to make me toss them."

Behind your back, Minji scowls albeit playfully and tosses a pair of fluffy white slippers at your head. "You're the worst."

"And you love it," you singsong back, setting the slippers in question back into the box she's working on.

"I do."

"I'm sorry."  

You're not quite sure why you're apologizing, why the words trickle off your tongue like tears.  You'd meant to stray strong, to bury the sadness among the cobwebs and forget about them.  You believed you'd be able to ignore the gaping, Seunghoon-shaped hole in your chest.

He's sitting by the front door, ankle resting casually against his knee.  Fingers curl together and you fight the desire to interrogate him - ask him why he seems so unaffected.

(You know the answer.)

Still, you can't help but feel what you imagine is the second breaking of your heart.

What you'd thought would be a golden happily ever after is anything but, sunshine giving way to a dull Sunday afternoon and rain that comes heavy enough to drown you.  

"It happens."  The words are like a jagged edge, slipping between your rattling rib cage and slotting itself exactly where your heart shudders.  The way he meets your gaze, stares right through you, is like a twist of his hand, and you momentarily forget how to breathe.  How could this be so easy for him?

In, out.  Just in and out.

You stand feeling small in the massive doorway, hands balled into fists at your side.  You can feel Minji's eyes on your back as she waits by the car.  You know if she made any indication, she'd be there in a moment, gathering you up in her arms and whisking you away.

But you need to do this by yourself - for yourself.

When you turn away from him, from his half-empty expression, you can feel the remnants of his love buried beneath your skin.  They're little splinters of better memories, of rose-coloured glass.  You know they'll leave scars.

"Goodbye," you muster up the courage to murmur the words before you're gone, taking the steps as quickly as you can.

You try not to wish, to hope - but you do anyway.  Just one sign this is tearing him apart like it is you.

He says nothing.

You've made the right choice.

In your old bed, with your old sheets, you drift.  You're not sure what time it is or when you last ate, but you remember.

You remembered coffee after you'd left what was no longer your home, wrapped up in the comforting embrace of your friend.  You'd felt the way she'd come apart alongside you, holding you as you'd cried yourself hoarse in the parking lot.

You remembered the way she and Yejin had appeared on your doorstep the next night, an assortment of goodies carried between three bags.  Among other things, they'd brought pickled radish and mandu and a giant bottle of your favourite lemon tea.  They'd hugged you when you'd started sobbing quietly, shoulders curved inwards as you attempted to stifle the noise.  (They'd regretted choosing a romcom to watch.)

You remembered last night when Jungkook had called, clearly concerned by the lack of response to his adorable selca and short video of Jimin wrestling a half-asleep Taehyung.  He'd sounded tired and you could tell by the way he exhaled and the rustle of blankets that he was settling in for the night.

You'd felt bad, guilt gnawing at the column of your throat, when you told him you were fine.  "I'm just tired," you'd murmured, cheek pressed to the cool silk of your pillowcase.  You'd tried to still your breathing, regulate the ache that weighed in your chest.  He always knew when you were lying.

"Me too," Jungkook had returned with a yawn.  You'd imagined his big doe-eyes in the dark, the little mole beneath his lip in full view as he pouted.  Such a little bunny.

"Then hang up."

You hadn't meant it as dismissively as you're sure it had come across but you'd certainly felt it when he exhaled, the sound amplified within the quiet of his room and the cocoon of his blankets.

"I just wanted to check up on you."  He'd spoken softly, as if he was the one hurting you, and your vision had blurred.  The heaviness on your shoulders had twisted and turned, coloured this time by shame, sinking into your spine and drawing you deeper into your bed.  

You were such an asshole.

"I'm sorry, Kookie."  

He'd hummed in response and then you'd drifted into silence - the quiet bringing comfort in the still night.  You'd continued to lie there, un-moving, phone screen a dimmed light as you thanked your lucky stars for someone like him.  

When his breathing had evened out, you'd remained on the line until sleep came calling.  Only now could you happily drift beneath sandman's dust, finding solace in your best friend on the other line.  "Thank you."

notes.   thank you for reading! 

this is my first fic in... forever, and i haven't written anything in about 3-4 years. please bear with me on this journey.  i was inspired by the incredible people on this site (and AO3, where I'm @makotako) and couldn't help jumping in. 

i wasn't really sure what this story would be like, so i apologize if it's a bit all over the place. this is largely based off of (recent) personal experience, so i'm hoping i've conveyed all my emotion the best i can. lauv's "who" really inspired me to put everything into words and honestly, listening to the song on repeat (and screeching about JK and jimin) was the easiest task in the world. 

i would really appreciate any and all feedback. <3

[inkribbon796]

What a Beautiful Wedding Ch. 7: The Show Stopper

Summary: The heroes and Illinois go in to face up against the Actor.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

When Ranboo’s portal opened up they were in some theater house, and the first thing that the group saw was Logan and Janus over Thomas’s unconscious body. Remus and Joan nearby.

“Logic!” Jackie raced over.

Logan started, almost hitting Jackie with one of his batons before the speedster jumped out of the way and Logan realized who it was. The logical Side visibly sagged in relief.

“Oh, good,” Logan commented, “you are all doing well.”

“Fookin’[1] relative,” Chase spat angrily, he wasn’t sure if it was being near Logan, or if he was just becoming more and more agitated the longer he spent without knowing if Dark was okay but his skin felt like it was trying to actively climb off of him as he got closer to the Sides.

“You three okay?” Silver flew over.

“No,” Logan admitted. “I do not know where the other Core Sides are, we lost sight of everyone else when we came here, and he won’t wake up. It is my estimation that something happened to the Core Sides and the shock knocked him out.”

“It must’a[2] been the Actor, he’s been doin’[3] weird stuff all day,” Jackie reported.

“Then the other Sides must be located before he can do any harm to them,” Logan decided.

“Go, I’ve got this,” Janus told Logan, summoning his staff and using his magic to pick Thomas up.

“We’ll keep him out of the line of fire,” Joan promised.

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks, not even for yourself,” Logan told them, looking straight into Joan’s eyes.

“Same goes for you, A.I Asimov,” Joan told him and he ran off with Janus and Remus. It left Logan with the others.

The logical Sides looked at the minors. “Unacceptable, what are you two doing here?”

“The bastard took Bomble an’[4] we weren’t just gonna[5] sit around with our heads up our arses[6], now were we?” Tommy glared at him as Ranboo looked around nervously.

“If splitting up weren’t terrible of an idea, I would demand it immediately,” Logan told him.

“Hey, Lo,” Jackie called out and a good sized green mechanical sphere flew out of Jackie’s suit. The large camera on the front shuttered open and closed before flying over to Logan.

“We can use him to scout the place out,” Jackie offered, motioning to SAM. “Figured he could keep takin’[7] pictures in here.”

“Good idea,” Logan told him, and connected to the orb, sending it around to look for any traces of a disturbance. The only nearby doors were the ones that lead to the main stage.

A set of double doors that Chase was already moving towards. Once he reached them, the marksman could hear faint mumbling from inside the auditorium. He began to creep in, Sam moving in slowly with him, but the instant Chase saw who was on the stage, all subtlety flew out the window.

“I don’t why you insist on throwing these tantrums,” Marc spat as he stood on the stage with Dark. “I’m giving you a leading role and still you want more?”

“Let go of me,” Dark spat, trying to twist himself free from the smoke that Marc was trapping him in, and trying to stab him at the same time. “I won’t be your villain.”

“Come on Dames, you’ve burned down an orphanage,” Marc chuckled as he threw Dark to the side. “Let’s not pretend. Besides, the bubbles you made were weak, they fell apart the instant someone poked at them. So give me the anomaly and I’ll make everything so much nicer.”

“I don’t have it,” Dark told him.

Marc glared at him furiously before he slapped Dark across the face, his claws out and so he left deep gashes in his face.

Dark became equally furious but when he moved to retaliate, Marc elbowed him sharply in the gut and his body dropped.

The Entity coughed up black, inky blood, the body he was inhabiting was screaming in pain. His souls screamed in rage. He wasn’t running out of aura but the body he was in was starting to reach its limit.

“Dames, we play the scene after we set the stage, so give me—” Marc snapped before he was pegged in the back by one of Chase’s TASER rounds. Ripping a scream from his lungs.

Jackie quickly raced in and snagged Dark, snatching him away and back to the group. Illinois almost immediately pulled Dark out of Jackie’s arms.

“Pass him ta[8] me,” Chase ordered.

“You need your hands to fight, I don’t,” Illinois spat at him, aura and magic coiling around him, ready to strike out like a whip.

As Logan entered the room after them, the logical Side looked around and saw one of the nearby pillars and froze in horror. He raced towards it. “Morality!”

The pillar was just a giant stasis tube where Patton was floating inside, unconscious and energy coursing around it. Logan looked around with SAM to see that the other three pillars contained the two other missing Sides, and Tubbo.

Logan felt rage come over him and Ranboo’s eyes tracked around the room as he portaled over to the other side and was at Tubbo’s pillar, the young boy’s radioactive iris symbol glowing faintly as his eyes were half closed in his torpor state.

“No! No!” Ranboo scratched at the pillar and started opening up a portal to pull Tubbo out.

“Get away from there!” The Actor threw a spear of black smoky aura at Ranboo and knocked him to the side, his aura pinning him down. “I’m not done with the brat yet.”

“Let go ‘a[9] him,” Tommy spat, Logan had to use nanites to pull Tommy out of the way.

“I am using them,” Marc scoffed. “They weren’t doing much good in their own stories so I pulled them into mine. Just give me the real anomaly, Dames, quit playing around. We can quit wasting our time with these garbage stories and do something better. Something airtight that isn’t subject to such impermanent and sudden change.”

“Stay away from him, yeh fookin shitestain!”[10] Chase shouted. “An’ yer gonna give e’eryone else back too.”[11]

Marc just stared at Chase in confusion before he held a finger up and pulled a couple papers out of nowhere, skimming through them for a very specific character description. “Who the fuck are you again?”

“Wait!” Actor paused before laughing. “Wait! Shit! When did that change? That’s right Ink said that kid had changed my script again for the thousandth time.” The last two words had been spat out bitterly despite his suddenly humored mood.

Then Actor smiled at Chase, the marksman keeping himself in-between Marc and Dark. “Well, well, like sister, like brother. Ruining one man’s life isn’t enough for you, so you grab for another? Thought Wil was supposed to be the whore of the relationship.”

“Shut the fook[12] up!” Chase took out one of his guns and just shot at him in a fury, he didn’t miss the way Dark flinched at Marc’s words, and felt even more fury boil inside his soul. The demon turned into smoke and the round went right through him, jumping down from the stage.

“You just into trigger happy gunmen or something?” Actor smiled. “Because you’re now two for two, at least, if you don’t include that French sword thrower I know you were fucking in university.”

“What part ‘a[9] “shut the fook[12] up” didn’t yeh[13] hear?” Chase demanded angrily.

“Oh, I know the perfect place to put you in my story, it’ll be perfect,” Marc said, his tone laced with threat and promise all in the same breath. “Illinois, bring him over.”

“No!” Illinois took a step back, he could tell that Dark was starting to nod off, his body dropping off into exhaustion and the last thing Illinois wanted was for this lunatic to put his hands on him again.

The denial seemed to actually make Marc angry, “Illinois. Junior. Get over here and give him to me.”

“I’m not your fucking kid, I’ll take your head off before I let you touch him,” Illinois couldn’t see Logan or the minors, but he didn’t know if Marc had done something to them or if they’d slipped off to carry out some kind of plan.

“Let’s not waste our time,” Marc stepped forward, he snapped his fingers and the room flickered back to the wedding gazebo. “Give him to me, we can go back to the wedding, make it look amazing, and then we can start this story off right. Come on, I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to.”

“Illinois is right to be suspicious of the Actor’s claims,” the Host announced from the stage. He had appeared there and spotlights snapped to look at him as the room darkened just a little bit. Dark roused a bit at the blind seer’s voice and he began weakly struggling a bit in Illinois’s arm.

“No, no, get away from him,” Dark whimpered, trying to open up a portal to drop the Host into but the Host was able to dispel it. “Not again.”

“You again,” Marc sneered. “Thought we agreed that you were going to be heard and not seen?”

“The Host agreed to no such terms, the Actor is insane and imagined words the Host never said,” the blind seer snapped. “The Host is a part of this story, just as much as the Actor or the Entity is.”

“An oversight, and a waste,” the Actor told him firmly.

“If the Actor minds,” the Host snapped. “He should stop digging his own grave and listen to the Host, before his time runs out.”

“Your monologue needs work, kid,” the Actor chuckled, but motioned for the Host to carry on.

“The Host would like the Actor to know that he will never successfully get any of the Entity’s children on his side,” the Host warned. “Even if he was a half-decent uncle, his track record speaks for itself. There is no one in the Actor’s family that he hasn’t harmed? A wife pushed away and sacrificed? A brother-in-law strangled to death? A brother the Actor helped drive insane? And a son, cast aside because the Actor was careless.” At the last one the Host smiled and gestured to himself.

Marc’s eyes narrowed, he looked confused. “What?”

The Host’s smile became a little more smug, and Illinois realized something that he only could have realized after meeting the Actor. Host and Actor had the exact same sharp, toothy grin. “Illinois is not the Actor’s child, he has no claim to Illinois, and even if they were related, it is abundantly clear that the adventurer wants nothing to do with him.”

Host’s aura coiled around him. “Jackie saved the Author from the Actor when he was thrown forward, the homes he had been in would have paled in comparison to the Actor’s sloppy and neglectful parenting. Had the Actor been subtle, had he known who his biological child was and tried to manipulate him, he might have been successful. Instead, he was careless and his son died.”

“Oh fuck,” Actor sighed overdramtically. “That makes sense.”

“The first mistake the Actor made, while the Host has existed, was targeting the Entity,” the Host warned.

There was a sudden explosion from one of the pillars and everyone turned to look at it. The Host finally was successful in distracting the Actor from what everyone else had been doing.

“No,” Marc realized before glaring at the Host. “What did you do?”

The Host smiled, “Well, the Actor insisted all the Host was good at doing was talking, and he was not wrong.”

Logan, who had been invisible suddenly surged out of the wiring of the system. Skeppy, Ponk, and Marvin had been invisible and working in the background to help Logan and the two minors work the four heroes free. The first one they were able to free was Roman who was immediately grabbed by Logan and passed off to Janus who was racing to bring Roman over to Thomas.

The illusion of the theater house began breaking down, looking half like the destroyed wedding scene, and the theater house. Marc looked over at Logan in a wild fury before he burst into smoke and as Ranboo was trying to get Tubbo out. The teen was kicked to the side.

“Hey!” Ranboo shouted in distress as the Actor embedded his aura into Tubbo’s pillar as Patton and Virgil were both dropped out of their stasis tanks.

“I don’t think so, I have worked too hard for all of this to go down the drain,” Marc spat at him. “If you all get the other ones, I get this one.”

“Give him back!” Tommy shouted.

“Drop the kid before you get dropped.”

Ranboo turned at the sound of that voice and saw someone he didn’t expect. It was Eret who was standing with Puffy and Foolish. He’d rushed to the scene when Quackity and Foolish had reported that Tubbo had gone missing.

“Who the hell are you?” Marc asked

Eret flipped her hair, they adjusted their sunglasses and gestured to herself, “Eret’s the name. An’[4] my dear, you are going to release Tubbo or my boot will be the last thing you see.”

“I don’t think so,” Marc said, noticing the guy in a white hoodie with a sniper rifle trained on him. He started summoning up aura to rip a portal open. “This kid’s got more aura than half of you combined. He’s no anomaly, but he’s powerful enough to do what I want.”

“Wrong answer,” Eret summoned a sword, Sam creeping closer with a trident in his hands. “You see Tubbo might be staying with the heroes, but we all are rather attached to him.”

“Well too bad,” Marc said smugly, “you two-bit villains couldn’t beat me if you tried.”

Punz released an arrow, Virgil had made his way over to him and laced the arrow with his magic. It phased through Marc and hit the stasis pillar.

“Hah!” Marc gloated. “You can’t hit shit! You villains are nothing compared to me!”

A bubbling started forming as Virgil’s magic infected the magic of the stasis pillar, Tubbo starting to have a nightmare as the liquid inside looked like it was bubbling.

“You haven’t heard, asshole?” Virgil grinned weakly. “Everyone loves the villain.”

The pillar cracked and Ranboo raced in, immediately teleporting Tubbo away behind the rest of the Server members, scoping him ever so gently into his arms. He made little hissing and vwooping noises of distress. “Tubbs‽”

“Hghnnn,” Tubbo groaned, mumbling. “Put me down, you fuckin’[1] giraffe.”

Ranboo let out a relieved laugh as he gently touched his forehead to the side of Tubbo’s head. “Let’s go home, Bo.”

“Tub-man,” Quackity raced over. “You hurt?”

“Oh my goodness, Ranboo, gimme[14],” Puffy demanded, racing over and setting her forehead against Tubbo’s. “Gimme.”[14]

Tubbo made little groans of complaint as people fused over him.

Foolish and Sam pulled out their tridents and forced a defensive wall in front of the pair. They let Tommy through with barely a nod in his direction.

“You okay?” Eret asked.

Tubbo nodded.

Eret turned to Ranboo, “Make sure he actually gets some rest, the poor thing takes after Sam too much.”

“I will,” Ranboo stood up as his eyes turned purple and he opened up one of his portals and left for the attic room in the Bee ‘n Boo. He immediately set him down on the bed to let him rest.

As Actor was preoccupied with Tubbo getting away, Host opened up a portal to bring Illinois, Chase, and Dark to stand behind him.

“Illinois should move the Entity closer to the Host, the Entity can feed off of his aura long enough to revive himself,” the Host ordered, taking a step back.

Illinois nodded, “He’s not going to fracture again, right?”

“No, the Entity’s soul is tired, but not drained,” the Host told him, his aura sinking into the Entity. Dark was trying to open up a portal to take Illinois and Host away.

“아빠[15] come on, we’re trying to help,” Illinois had to move in to disrupt the portal several times. Dark was slowly getting stronger and Illinois doubted if he couldn’t convince Dark to calm down, that he’d hurt himself.

Marc took one angry step towards Illinois and Dark, opening his mouth to say something, but Silver flew forward and punched Marc in the face. “I think you’ve been talking long enough.”

Jackie sped in to force the Actor back against the wall as Dark ripped a portal open and he alone slipped inside of it. The Entity emerged from Jackie’s shadow as he surged up and pulled something out of the Void with him. The Entity moving quickly and without mercy or hesitation.

Dark smiled at Marc as a soul splitter embedded in Marc’s chest. “That’s for what you did to Average.”

Then Dark forced more aura into him and Marc’s soul violently discorporated. The demon had drawn in too much aura for Dark to snap his soul in half quite so easily.

But he was gone and Dark just stood there, the body he was in burning and a sense of triumph slowly bubbling up inside of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Accessibility Translations:

1. Fucking

2. must have

3. doing

4. and

5. going to

6. asses

7. taking

8. to

9. of

10. Stay away from him, you fucking shitstain!

11. And you’re going to give everyone else back too.

12. fuck

13. you

14. give me

15. Dad. Informal, read phonetically as: Appa.